“If I survive,” I repeated, with a snort. “Why does everyone keep saying that? One of the quests told me to stay in the courtyard until I got strong enough to--“

“Quiet!” Oksar cocked his head. “Trouble’s coming.”

I understood the words but not the meaning, not really. So I just blinked at him while he paused for two heartbeats. Then he leaped across the clearing, his spear already in his hands.

He thrust toward a shadow that shot toward him between in the low branches.

There was a thunk as his spear hit the target. But apparently it didn’t do much, because Oksar dodged and pivoted, then lowered himself into a ready position.

A thornspider landed near the campfire, then raised to its back legs to show its red patches.

The same thornspider that had followed me through the gate.

I grabbed the hot, greasy skillet.

As Oksar lunged, the spider jumped sideways and landed on the tree trunk. Oksar twirled and thrust again and the spider dodged then leaped at me.

I swung wildly with the skillet but missed--and a moment before the spider landed on me, the spear’s shaft batted it away.

“Get your back to the tree!” Oksar yelled. “Stay out of the way!”

The spider scuttled at him, impossibly fast, but he blocked a thorny leg that lashed at his face. I almost threw the skillet but was afraid I’d hit Oksar so I just scrambled to the tree trunk and stood there with the skillet held defensively in front of me.

INTUIT: Thornspider, Level 3

The spider circled Oksar and he adjusted his spear again--then the spider attacked.

The spear thrust and the spider dodged and attacked again and again, trying to get in close. Trying to hug Oksar with its barbed legs and slicing thorax, before sinking its fangs into his blue flesh.

Oksar danced around the attacks, using his spear more like a quarterstaff than I expected, spinning and blocking, and only occasionally slashing with the blade.

The thornspider’s exoskeleton was tough, but after what felt like a full minute of fierce attacks, Oksar was untouched and one of the spider’s legs was broken.

“There’s a net in the lean-to,” Oksar told me, as he parried another attack. “I’d like to take this thing alive.”

“Got it,” I said, and slipped toward the opening.

The spider immediately reoriented on me, sidling around the fire--then leaping.

I swung the skillet wildly and only managed to bat away a few of its legs. Shit. Shit! It was going to hit me!

I expected to feel a face-full of thorns, but the spider slammed to the ground at my feet like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds.

Oksar’s spear had pierced it from above. He’d jumped high, then stabbed his spear downward, impaling the monster.

The spider writhed for a moment, then fell still.

“Or we could kill it,” Oksar said, striding closer.

“Goddamn,” I said, panting.

“So that’s a thornspider?”

“Goddamn,” I repeated.

He glanced at me. “You okay?”

“Just scared. Damn. Okay. How’d you know it was coming?”

“I’ve got a ward. An enchanted back bead. Nobody could survive out here alone without one.”

“I don’t know how you survive out here with one.”

“Eh, a spider’s not as bad as an mandrill or a puma.” He frowned down at the corpse. “I wonder what those thorns are worth.”

Loot corpse?

I confirmed.

TREASURE! 4 foam beads.

Huh. No mention of pearl beads that time. Did the messages change based on my current knowledge?

“Uh,” I said. “I don’t know about thorns, but there’s four foam beads.”

I accepted the foam beads into my domain then offered them to Oksar.

He didn’t take them. “Wh--where did those come from?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“The thornspider.”

“We haven’t opened the spider.”

“Yuck. You gut them for beads? I just ... I took the beads into my domain.”

He blinked at me, suddenly almost wary. “What the hells are you?”

“Friendly guy you found in the woods? Great conversationalist? Awesome at arts and crafts?”

“That’s good enough for now, I guess.” He pulled a knife and apron from a pack hanging beside the lean-to. “You want to help me butcher this?”

“I’m not eating spider.”

“Not butchering for food, butchering for parts.”

“Oh. No, I’m good. I’ll, uh, watch.”

He tied the apron over my shirts and started carving at the spider like it was a Thanksgiving turkey. He inspected the organs he extracted, then set them aside or tossed them into the fire, moving with complete assurance.

“Is this what you do?” I asked. “I mean, you’re a hunter?”

“Mostly a trapper. I hunt the smaller game, but nobody ungemmed should fight something like a dire puma without traps. At least not alone.”

“What else is out here?”

“You mean that nobody should fight alone?” He delicately removed the spinneret from the spider’s ass. “Glass boas and mandrills, mostly.”

“A mandrill? Like a regular mandrill?”

“Like a regular six-armed monster ape. No offense.”

I blinked at him. Why would I take offense at that?

“The big beasts usually stick to the canopy,” he continued. “That’s where their prey is. Usually. If a herd of deer is pushed into the forest, or you leave unwarded food around, it’s a different story.”

Six-armed apes. Unwarded food. I didn’t say anything for a while, watching him work. I didn’t know where to start with all my questions.

But eventually I asked, “So you, uh, crossed a landbridge a few years ago?”

“And didn’t get back in time, yeah.” He raised his yellow eyes to look at me. “I was stranded in Waldhill. Which is this island.”

“Now you’re hunting and trapping and hoping Waldhill drifts back to your home again? Where are you from?”

“Prenzin Isle. And when I get back, I’m bringing a sack full of black beads with me. Enough to buy a plot of land and build a big fancy house.”

“Black beads? Like your ward?”

“Yeah. Black is worth ten times as much as gold. I’ve been out here a long time, collecting beads. If I make it home to my family, I’ll come with gifts.” He smiled faintly. “Of course, most of us, we don’t get beads at every single kill. We sure as hell don’t get them without bloodying our hands.”

“So beads are for healing?”

“And wards and currency.”

“Oh. But if you don’t spend them, you can combine foam beads into pearl beads?”

“Right. Ten or fifteen foam will give you a pearl.”

“And pearls heal.”

“Only the gemmed, and only a little. But if you combine pearl into gold, those heal anyone--and they heal far better. They heal the gemmed immediately, at least of most injuries. You combine golds into black for truly miraculous healing. One of those is worth almost a year’s wages. Or!” Oksar ripped the thornspider’s thoracic plate from its flesh. “Or you get a human to carve runes onto the black bead and make enchantments like my ward.”

“Damn,” I said, looking at the gore.

“Yeah, you humans aren’t that bad. Weak and sickly, but you’ve got uses.”

I snorted. “We’re great with design.”

“What’s life without beauty?”

“Asked the man absolutely swimming in spider guts.”

He laughed. “C’mere.”

“Do I have to?”

“Just get over here,” he said.

So I went, and he pulled at a heavy cord around his neck to show me a black bead that had been dangling against his chest. “My mother gave me this. She was a trapper, too.”

“Another boba,” I said.

He ignored me. “You see the runes carved there? That’s the enchantment. After I make camp, I walk a perimeter while trickling mana into the bead. That establishes the ward. Which keeps away most wildlife. And if a danger breaks the perimeter, the bead hums. Almost inaudibly for something weak like this spider, but loud enough to hear from a few feet away if it’s a dire puma.”

I wanted to ask him about mana, but my mind was already reeling from the firehose of information. From being in an entirely new world. So I just watched as he finished his butchering. Then I cleaned the campsite when he went to the stream to wash. The thornspider fight had made a pretty big mess.

I added more wood to the fire, trying not to think about dire pumas and glass boas. Instead, I thought about what Oksar had told me. Not the story of a hundred islands floating on a mana ocean. That was clearly bullshit. I mean, I didn’t doubt it was the truth, but it was still bullshit. What kind of world had floating islands and gem-wizards?

No, I thought about his reaction to my character sheet. His reaction to attributes and levels and boons and quests. And my domain. I’d figured those were default experiences for this world, but clearly not. He’d never heard of them.

I didn’t know what that meant, though. Maybe they were racial traits for ‘Anomalies?’ I still felt human, and clearly I looked human, but that made as much sense as anything. Which wasn’t saying much. I hadn’t told Oksar that my sheet called me an anomaly, though ... or an archmage.

I’d bring that up later. I mean, why not? I’d clearly won the lottery when I’d met him: a blue demon-guy who’d not only saved my life but didn’t want to take anything from me other than my sneakers.

I threw another branch on the fire and watched the bark curl and blacken. For the first time since I’d arrived, I felt ... okay. Not safe, exactly, but safer. I trusted Oksar. Mostly because if he’d meant me any harm, he could’ve just done it. He was a good guy.

Sure that quest had said I’d die if I left the courtyard before I got stronger, but what I had instead of strength was a friend. Fuck you, quest notification!

Except now that I felt safer, I also felt more unsure. Like ... what should I do next? Try to find my way home? How?

I strongly suspected that a quest would eventually tell me. Like I needed to follow notifications from point to point. First clear the courtyard. Then get stronger. Then a million other things. And finally, return home.

* * *

Oksar wandered back from the stream. Just your average blue-skinned ranger demon in cargo pants and sneakers. He rummaged around in his packs then tossed me a chunk of candy that tasted sweet and floral.

“Yum. What is this?”

“Honeydew.” He popped a piece in his mouth. “So you’re even more lost than I am, huh?”

“I’m more lost than anyone. I win.”

“I can bring you to one of the towns, if you want. Or you can stay with me for a while. There’s a bridge currently linking Waldhill to Six Coves. Which is ... trouble.”

“This is the political stuff you mentioned?”

“The political trouble, yes. Six Coves is a vassal of Krelv. Which is a continent. Long story. There’s fighting here now. Six Coves invaded, they’re taking over, gonna chain Waldhill to their home. It’s ugly. Getting worse, too.”

“Oh,” I said.

“You’d probably be okay in town, nobody cares about a human keeping his head down. Still, staying in the forest is safer, if you know how to survive out here.”

“Which I don’t. But, conveniently, you do.”

“Right.”

“Then I’ll stay if you’ll have me. I’m good at gathering beads and, uh, hiding waterskins in my domain. And don’t forget design. I’m going to Human Eye for the Demon Guy this campsite like you wouldn’t believe. ”

He snorted a laugh. “No idea what you’re talking about, but don’t call infenti ‘demons,’ it’s an insult. Like calling ollies ‘elephants’ or crachen ‘crabs’ or humans ‘apes.’”

“We are apes,” I told him. “Great apes.”

He squinted at me. “That’s a good opinion to not share.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I’ll keep evolution to myself. What are Striders? And Traguld?”

“Striders are a created race, and prickly like they’ve got something to prove. Which I suppose they do, if you think about it.“

I almost asked what ‘a created race’ meant, but I couldn’t. Between Waldhill and Six Coves and Krelv, between infenti and crachen and traguld, I couldn’t take in any more information.

So I said, “I’m not ready to think about it. I’m not ready to think about anything. What, uh ... can I do? Give me chores. Honeydew harvesting, spider cleanup, I don’t care. I need to stay busy.”