NEW PATH

My waking in the real world was a little more traumatic than the peaceful meditation vibes in Avihs’ yoga inspired heavenly glade.

What I knew of the Earth based Hindu God who Avihs so remarkably resembled, wasn’t much, but I did remember he was considered the Supreme Being; Lord of Celestial Energy, Yoga, Meditation, Arts, Time, Dance, and Destruction. Also considered the Supreme Destroyer of Evil; Lord of all other Gods of the Hindu Pantheon. In short he was someone you wanted to stay on the good side of. But it did allude to some thoughtful questions, like; Did this mean other Hindu Gods were represented in this world, making anagrams of their names? Or was this place only Avihs backyard playground? Was he the real Shiva or another world’s representation?

Before I could continue with this stream of thought I felt a sense of unease and then giddiness, and the missing sensation I had had when my shadow was ripped from me was suddenly restored, like a cavity in a tooth suddenly filled and whole. My exploring tongue suddenly confused that the hole no longer existed. Its very presence, more disturbing than its absence.

I tried to access my stats page and check out all the data, starting with the character screen. All I got was a buzz of static and a feeling of vertigo each time I actively thought of it. Avihs had said my abilities were damaged but that both myself and the nanobots could recover. I really hoped so. I was beginning to rely on the info dump it gave me and all the abilities I could monitor with it. After I got used to the idea, it had become part of me, something I had never really considered as a separate entity, but Avihs’s reference had made sense and I was beginning to see the changes and augmentation from the Absinthe in a whole new light.

Since waking and emerging from the Scalar Science facility I had been using the internal map ability almost constantly as well as trying to build up different skills like Archery and Hunting that you don’t often get to practice back on earth, but which I had used a lot while trekking to the city. I figured if I was going to be stuck in the wilderness then both those skills and a few others besides would come in handy.

Now as I lay here on the ground. Still getting my bearings from my recent visit with Avihs, a movement intruded on my senses. My limbs were being moved. Constrained.

“Gurzit!, dreguts sepmen while he unconscious!” The voice dragged into my tumbling mind. It was a whining voice. Obsequious and yet commanding. A merchant's voice. A voice full of hopeful opportunity and wheedling pleading. It didn’t help that my laser sharp mind, so attuned to the world around me, didn’t translate into razor sharp reactions at this juncture, because as my eyes opened, I felt the ropes drawn taught and the experience of being hog-tied filled my awareness. And then that voice, wait, what had he said? The words didn’t make sense.

Befuddled, I tried to blink my view into focus. Several shapes were all around me. Stout burly creatures. Some were bearded. The more slender and sinewy of them were clean shaven and wizened looking, like crack-addicts on the prowl. They were in the process of pushing a pole between my bound hands and feet. Dammit! When will I ever wake up before I’m caught?

I tried to wriggle free. But it was already way too late.

“Gurzit! Gabbit the arms, flu pen the pole. Gurzit, gurzit.”

I creased my brow as I tried to make sense of the words. Clearly my ability of Lucid languages didn’t extend to this one. At least not completely. I played back the words in my mind and came to the conclusion that it was a dialect of Dwarven. Was I finally going to meet the Dwarves?

I was trussed under the pole as two of the burly shapes, one on each end, began dragging me across the landscape. My loincloth clad butt and lower naked back scraping along the ground. Even though I could see the pole was mounted on their shoulders, I was not high enough to enjoy a smooth ride.

I lifted myself up, using my arms and legs to carry my weight upside down and tried to speak reason to them.

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“Wait, I am a friend. You don’t need to tie me up. I’m with the Absinthe.” I used my commanding voice. the one that stopped recruits in their tracks. I also spoke in Dwarven. I might as well have eaten sand for all the good it did me.

They continued to tirelessly drag me hog-tied upon their shoulders to whatever destination they had in store. I tried to look around and figure out how many of them there were, I tried to get a bearing, but the jouncing and strain to hold myself off the ground made things difficult. I could feel the sting of roasties and blood leaking from my back where the ground rubbed me raw.

This day just couldn’t get any better. They had removed my boots and my cloak, but for some reason had not removed the ring. Oh, I remembered Avihs said that only I would be able to see it. A good thing too, because I had some cool stuff in that Ring of Storing.

In all, I discovered more about them when they decided to stop for the night. I counted twenty of them. The majority were dwarves, although they were bigger and sturdier than I had expected dwarves to be, while others had a goblinoid appearance. Maybe gnomish but without the friendly bearded garden variety outlook. They were instead the slender, clean-shaven, ugly types and it seemed they were the ones in charge. I hadn’t heard a single dwarf speak, but they seemed to use sign language to communicate with each other and the Gollum looking fellows used that strange dialect of Dwarven to command the dwarves to do their bidding.

The dwarves did it without protest nor any sign of willingness. Like automatons, they did everything asked of them with exacting precision. Not a single facial feature betrayed their thoughts, not a frown, nor smile. Not even a grimace. The sparkle in their eyes was just a dull sheen. As if life had no meaning and they lived but to wait for the next command.

There were five of those emaciated goblin fellows. Each had a stave and one of the fuckers was wearing my boots and another had my cloak. They were magic users if I had to guess, and they must be using some type of spell on the dwarves under their charge.

I kept trying to access my magical abilities, or any of my abilities, and each time a static splurge would render me senseless for a few seconds. I was starting to realize that I was on my own in this and I had no special powers to call upon besides the skills that were innate within me. At least for now. I just hoped that Avihs had been right when he said it would all heal in time.

The day had been exhausting. I had used almost all my energy just on trying to keep myself elevated and prevent my back from scraping along the ground. If I hadn’t done that, then most likely I would be spread across all of this Scalar world, like a tomato jam trail. When they put me down they removed the carrying pole, only to insert it in the ground and tie me to it like a leashed beast, tethered. I leaned against it sideways, gingerly, careful not to let my raw back touch it, and quickly succumbed to my exhaustion.

A splash of water across my face disrupted my meandering thoughts and I looked up to see what I owed the pleasure. The water was a blessed relief and I sucked my lips and scraggly beard to savor every drop. It was one of the gnome who had thrown a cup of water at me.

“Gretn quest. What have name you?”

I looked up from my parched predicament and frowned. Was he asking my name or asking a quest name?

We were camped out on a plain, with a few trees as cover from the sun. The red glow was low on the horizon, but the heat baking up from the sparsely covered ground had not abated. I stuck my tongue out, around my cracked lips. It felt leaden and dry, like a stump of wood.

“Gretn quest! What have name you?”

The words this time were sharp and fierce. He was clearly losing patience with me. I tried to say something in Dwarven.

“I am a friend, there is no need to treat me this way. I will cooperate, undo my bindings, let me free.” I croaked.

He raised his staff to hit me when I quickly blurted out “Petros Arkansas is my name. I don’t know what quest you are talking about?”

This seemed to mollify him and he turned and made for the campfire being set up in the clearing. I saw his lips twitch in a wicked smile. Clearly he thought I was a beaten cur. Well good for him, I was dehydrated, hungry and sunburned. My back was bruised, raw of most of its skin, and I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet from the bindings. My fingers were like purple slugs, completely unresponsive to even the mildest of commands. I doubted I was in any shape to face up to anyone, never mind twenty of them. But I had to escape. I had to find a way.

I shouted after him. “Hey wait, let me free. I am no threat to you!” the last part came out a croak, but if he cared, he certainly didn’t show it. The water had revived my flagging spirits and I tried to talk to others who came near, I tried to get someone's attention.

No matter what I said, how I said it, or to whom I said it, no-one seemed to care. It was as if I didn’t exist for them any longer. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this and had to reflect on what I had witnessed, what had been said to me. and what I was going to do about it.

I was exhausted. The trek, hanging from that pole, had lasted hours. My back had been dragged through half the country. One thing I did notice is that the ground color had changed as we moved from the area affected by the Void Crystal explosion. Everything within that area was dead or scorched a dark color in some way. Everything pointing away from the epicenter. Now in this unaffected area, sticks, branches and shrubs pointed in every direction and the ground had a more natural unblemished sort of appearance.

I eventually gave up trying to elicit sympathy or any form of recognition from my captors. I slumped back to rest my side against the pole.

Perhaps they were right. I was a beaten cur. My head lay back and I slept the exhausted sleep of a man already dead. A place from which unwelcome memories in the form of dreams sprang unbidden and raw.