Chapter 4: A Friendly Face

Day 2

I went stiff. My eyes darted up.

A man with stripy hair and a scraggly beard sat on the other side of the outcropping, arms crossed. He wore a roughspun tunic with one sleeve, a pair of blood-specked breeches, and tall leather boots. An unstrung bow and a quiver full of arrows leaned against the rock by his side, and a sword lay across his legs.

I rooted for the dagger among the moss, found nothing.

“Don’t bother,” the man said. “I took the opportunity to relieve you of your weapons.” He patted a cloth bundle at his side.

“Shit,” I hissed. Mind careening, I forced myself to take a few deep breaths. “Alright, don’t kill me. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh ho! Whatever I say, huh? Tempting offer. You’ve already met the slavers, then, I take it.”

Sensing this man wasn’t quite like the others, I nodded. “Not really in the asking business, those ones.”

The man chuckled. “Just spawned in? What, yesterday?”

“Spawned?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Making out my sheepish expression, he rolled his eyes. “You fell from the sky, right?”

“How did you know?”

“That’s how things work around here. Everybody falls.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not about to give you a history lesson. Suffice it to say, on Ard, people aren’t born. They spawn.”

That took a minute to sink in. The man gave me time, made no move.

“So, the reason why I can’t remember anything…”

“Is because you have no memories to begin with,” the man finished. “Congratulations.”

“But… I feel like there’s something in the back of my head. Like there’s something I’m forgetting. And I know all these things without having to learn them. How’s that possible?”

The man sighed. “By the Architect, you’re a real thinker, huh? Let me give you some advice. Don’t think about it too much. The ones that spend their time worrying about where they came from or what it all means tend to go mad pretty quick.”

I licked my lips and eyed the gleaming sword in the man’s lap. “You fell too, then?”

The man grunted in acknowledgment. “About a year ago.” He looked me over, boredom in his eyes. “You’re still naked, so you must have spawned in a couple days ago, at most.”

“Yesterday,” I said. “Morning of.”

The man laughed. “You’ve made a fine mess of things in such a short time. Seems the goblins almost took you out.”

“The little green men?”

“Yeah. Them.”

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I couldn’t muster the bravado to tell him otherwise. My injuries were plain to see. I wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight if he decided to kill me.

Unless…

I glanced down at my arm. The crystal had lit up, winking at me.

“Already figured out your basics, have you?” the man asked. “Whatever you’re thinking, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He held up his right arm. The forearm was adorned with a similar mark to my own, a circle with a knife inside. Below it, five blue crystals sparked.

I let my arm drop. “Oh. Is that…?”

“Everyone’s got one, yeah.” The man pulled out a bundle of dry bark from a pouch around his neck and stuck it in the back of his mouth, chewing. “It’s called a Class Mark. When you spawn in, you get one of four. I’m what’s known as a Rogue. Show me your mark, and I’ll tell you what you are.”

Hesitantly, I held up my right arm.

The man whistled. “Damn. You’re a Cleric. Rarest of the bunch. King’ll pay you a good salary if you head into any of the major towns.”

“What about the slavers?” I asked. “They tried to catch me.”

“Don’t worry about them. They go for the fresh spawns, ones too disoriented to protest. Mostly Fighters, since they make for good laborers. You’ve made it past the rough bit, son.”

“From what you said, you’re only a year older than me,” I remarked dryly.

The man wagged a finger in my direction, chewing loudly. “Seniority still applies.”

I chuckled at that.

A long silence stretched out between us, each sizing up the other.

“Since you’re telling me all this, I assume you won’t kill me,” I said.

“Will you give me a reason to?” the man asked. His hand inched onto the sword hilt.

I shook my head.

He let his hand drop. “Good. The name’s Branch.”

“Branch?”

“Don’t ask. Embarrassing story.” The man got a thoughtful look in his eye, his chewing slowed to a rhythmic motion. “I think I’ll call you… Crow.”

“Why Crow?”

“On account of your hair. All black. I’m guessing you haven’t had the time to get familiar.”

I touched the short shock of hair atop my head. “Not really.”

“So, what do you think? About the name.”

I shrugged. “Good as any.”

Branch nodded sagely. “I’m good at names, you know. Lots of fresh spawns come through here. Most don’t make it, so I’ve gotten good at digging graves, too.”

“That’s bleak.”

Branch shrugged. “You get used to it.” Returning the sword to a leather sheath on his belt, he stood. He was tall and gangly, forced to stoop under the stone ledge. “Now, let’s set about fixing up those wounds of yours.”

I frowned. “How?”

“You’ll do it yourself. Clerics are the only class with healing abilities.”

“You mean I could have healed my wounds this whole time?” I asked.

“Pretty much.”

I sighed.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Branch said. “Learning about your basic abilities takes time.”

“Everyone has these… abilities, I assume?”

“Mmhmm. You start with three basic abilities, all based on class. Yours are Bind, Scry, and Lay on Hands. That last one is what you want right now.”

Branch came over and squatted down next to me. He unwrapped the small bundle containing my weapons, gave me a meaningful look, and handed them over.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Now we’re both armed,” Branch said. “Do you mind if I show you how to do this?”

I nodded.

He unwrapped the improvised compress from my leg, heavy with blood, and guided my hand to the wound with both of his.

“There. Now say the words. Picture something soothing.”

“Lay on Hands.”

Golden light shone between my fingers. The throbbing in my thigh muscle slowly eased up. Whole leg relaxing, I let out a relieved sigh. When I took my hand away seconds later, only a small bruise remained.

Branch rocked on the balls of his feet, grinning. “Attaboy. Now you just have to wait for your mana to recharge so you can do it again. You’ve been through a lot, it seems, so I’ll let you rest. I’ll make sure the area’s clear.”

He picked up his bow, strung it with a single motion, and shouldered his quiver. He pulled the spruce branches aside, letting in a wash of morning sunlight.

“Wait,” I said.

Branch glanced over his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

The scruffy man grinned. Turning back to his task, he headed outside.