~Tanrin~

Tanrin felt himself slipping down off of his bed and instinctively grabbed onto the frame to steady himself.

“Are you okay?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

Who the hell is in my bedroom? He tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t convey his response.

“No, I’m not okay. That damn horse shit on me!” a second voice slurred.

“Quiet, Aldwin, or I’ll make you muck up the mess. There’s more vomit than manure! These three need our help, and I won’t have you making it more difficult.” The first voice was firm and serious. The second was a jumble of unintelligible mumbling.

“Do you need help off your horse?” The first voice asked.

Horse? I’m trying to get some sleep! Leave me be. What did I drink? This is a messed up dream. He thought, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a groan.

He felt a pair of hands grip the haft of his war axe.

Thorben needs you.

Instinct and training fought to overcome his delirium. His eyes snapped open, his dagger seemed to leap into his hand, and he drove it towards the throat of the man gripping his axe.

The man’s eyes widened. Tanrin felt a grip as strong as a stone lock around his wrist. His dagger was a hair-width from breaking skin. If Tanrin hadn’t already pushed himself beyond his physical limits, then the man wouldn’t have been able to stop him. “Peace young man. I want to help. My name is Alfred Miller, owner of this inn. Let me help you.” Tanrin was too tired to break the man’s grip, and let his blade clatter to the ground.

That name was familiar. His battle instincts calmed. Tanrin met his eyes. “Help Thorben.” His grip on consciousness faded, and as he fell, someone guided him to the ground.

He awoke an undetermined amount of time later, lying in a bed. Trying to take in his surroundings to better understand his situation, he saw Mia was across the room in another bed, still asleep. Thorben was not with them. Where is he? He stumbled out of bed desperate to find him and discovered he had nothing but his small clothes on. Locating his clothes neatly folded on a chair by the door, he dressed as he heard steps approaching. He glanced around the room but couldn’t find his weapons. Grabbing the jug of water off the small table, he prepared for his next actions. Anything could be a weapon, a lesson his mother had hammered into him. Though he was still feeling weak, he crouched into a fighter’s stance.

A soft knock sounded on the door. “I thought I heard you awaken. May I come in? Or would you like to come out for a hot meal to help you regain your strength?”

Tanrin needed to gather more intel before he acted.

“The other young man is in the room next door. My wife is doing what she can to treat him. Your weapons and gear are downstairs behind the bar. I will return them to you after we talk. You are in no danger. I will wait downstairs.”

Tanrin placed the jug back down. It doesn’t seem as the man means us harm. He might lure me down into a trap, but if that was the case, he would have bound me while I was still unconscious. I might as well scope out the situation.

He opened the door and stepped out. The worn wooden floorboards creaked underfoot as he entered the hall. Immediately, he noticed that the door next to his was open a crack. Tanrin guessed someone did it to ease his mind. He glanced in and saw his brother being tended to by a middle-aged portly woman who radiated concern and tenderness. His gut told him he could trust her, so he continued downstairs to gather more information and retrieve their weapons, just in case.

“Good afternoon, young sir,” a small mountain of a man greeted him. He was sitting at a small table with two plates of food. Tanrin’s mouth watered at the sight. “Have a seat and eat. You’ve been sleeping just shy of two days. Your body needed it. You needed it. The young lady ate this morning and returned to bed. The other man hasn’t gotten up yet. My name is Alfred. Would you like to tell me what brought you to my inn in this condition?”

Tanrin sat across the table, keeping his eyes on Alfred, ignoring the food for now. There was another man on the other side of the room, sitting at the bar. “My name is Tanrin. Thank you for helping us. Is there a temple nearby? Thorben, my brother, needs a priestess.” The ears of the man at the bar seemed to pick up at the mention of this, and he chuckled, ‘brother,’ but he settled back into sipping his tankard.

“Sorry, son. There isn’t a priestess anywhere near, nor will your brother be able to withstand the journey to the closest in Eleytol.” Alfred said, a great weight of sadness behind his eyes. “My wife apprenticed with a traditional healer many years ago, and is doing what she can, but she is not hopeful. This is well beyond her skill level.”

Silence settled into the atmosphere. Tanrin slouched over. “I must help him. He’s my brother.” His mind raced, yet he couldn’t come up with any fresh ideas. Mechanically, he ate the food as he struggled with what to do next. The carrots tasted divine. When had he started eating? He looked down and saw the plate was empty. Alfred pushed the other in front of him without a word. Tanrin ate.

“Tell me what happened. Maybe we can figure something out,” Alfred said. Not seeing another option, Tanrin began talking, hoping to the gods that this man could do something.

~Aldwin~

All Aldwin wanted to do was finish his ale in peace. A horse had defecated him on and he’d his nose broken. After which, they’d forced to help carry the three NPC travelers upstairs. Alfred even had the gall to insist that he help play nursemaid the past couple of days. The almighty savior of Baherune reduced to fetching buckets of water and clean bandages.

This has got to be a cosmic joke. Repeatedly saving the digital world of Baherune wasn’t enough! Now I have to nurse minor wounds for these digital programs.

He continued to vent in his mind as Alfred talked to the dwarven youngster. Occasional snippets of the conversation drifted over his way.

“Thorben needs a priestess… words across his field of vision… mumbling about skills gained… over-level casting…”

Wait! What was that? No, it couldn’t be. They promised. They promised not to integrate any more people’s souls into the game.

He marched, well some might say floundered, over to the table with anger warring on his face. “What did you just say?!” He knew he should calm down and have another drink, but they had promised. He needed to know.

“I said that my brother has had something weird happening to him the past few quarter moons. He told me he sees visions of words. After collapsing into unconsciousness, he has been mumbling about skills and over-level casting,” the dwarf said, turning back to Alfred. “Is there nothing you can do, Mr. Miller?”

There was a time when he would have had to convert the units of time from moons to the Earth standard, but after being here for multiple lifetimes, it was automatic. The boy had been like this for weeks. “Don’t look away when I’m talking to you!” Aldwin shouted. “Where are you from?”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

The dwarf, known as Tanrin, looked over at him with incredulous disbelief etched on his face. “Are you serious right now? My brother is on the brink of death, and you want to know where I am from?” He rose out of his chair and turned towards him. “Get away from me, you drunkard!”

Alfred interrupted before things could get out of hand, “Tanrin, the easiest way to make him move on is to satiate his curiosity. He means no harm.” Directing a glare towards him, Alfred continued, “or else he’ll need to find a new bar stool to occupy.”

“Fine, we are from the Langwin Highlands,” Tanrin said between clenched teeth.

“I didn’t ask where your characters were from,” Aldwin stated, a hint of danger tinged his voice. “I asked where you are from. Don’t think of lying to me.”

The dwarf locked eyes with Aldwin. “Mr. Miller, I would hate to cause damage to your inn after you have helped us, but this babbling drunk is making no sense, and I am past wanting to entertain him.”

“Aldwin, let’s go. I’ll grab you an ale on the house,” Alfred said.

How is this be possible? They can’t be NPC’s. NPCs don’t have HUDs or skills. A ported player should be obvious to a player at his level.

“Alfred, my friend, we both know I am more than a simple drunk. Any other time an ale on the house would be all it took. Show me to the elf.” Aldwin demanded, his old heroic demeanor creeping back.

Persuasion Check- Success

Alfred looked at Tanrin with uncertainty. “Aldwin served with me back in my soldiering days. He’s always kept his distance and has shrouded his past in mystery, but I’ve learned to trust him.”

To Aldwin’s surprise, the dwarf simply shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the stairs. “Let’s go. It can’t hurt anything.”

The trio ascended the stairs and entered the room. Alfred’s wife Martha was sitting in a chair by Thorben’s bedside, wiping his forehead with a cloth. “I’ve been able to get some tonic down, which has strengthened his body a bit. It’s made him a bit more comfortable, but it’s a temporary measure. I’m sorry, I can’t figure out what is wrong.” She stood and gave Tanrin a warm embrace.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tanrin said, choking up. His emotions warred within, causing his voice to catch in his throat.

“Please call me Martha,” she said.

Steeling himself, as falling apart wouldn’t help anybody, he straightened his back and forced his voice steady. “Thank you, Martha.”

“Aldwin would like to look,” Alfred said, sharing a look with his wife. A look that, after so many years of marriage, could convey far more than words.

“I’ll step out for a few minutes,” Martha said with a nod. “Call for me when you’re finished. Don’t wake him,” she warned Aldwin.

Aldwin almost fired off a sarcastic retort, but not even he was drunk enough to speak back to Martha. So instead, he nodded his assent and stepped over to the bed. Hesitantly, he peeled Thorben’s eyelid upward. Multi colored lightning raced back and forth in his iris.

Holy shit!

Aldwin reeled backwards, colliding hard into the wall with his back, and fell back onto his ass. He stared in shock at the unconscious boy, his mind reeling. After a moment, his mind could process what he’d seen.

What the hell is going on here?! How did this NPC sustain soul damage from over-casting? I need another fucking ale.

Aldwin sat stunned on the chair next to Thorben’s bed. Tanrin and Alfred had set him in it after he collapsed to the floor. He was mumbling to himself about NPCs.

Moments passed until Tanrin could stand the incoherent babbling no longer. “What’s wrong with my brother?” Tanrin asked, shattering the mumbling of his musings.

“He’s sustained soul damage,” Aldwin said with a shocked expression.

“Soul damage? What’s that? Can you fix it?” Tanrin asked.

“Its impossible is what it is,” Aldwin replied. “In the world of Baherune, there are different types of people, and his type doesn’t have souls. Therefore, they shouldn’t be able to sustain soul damage.” Aldwin said.

How do I tell these servers generated entities about souls? They lack any frame of reference for comprehension.

“His type?! That’s some prejudiced bullshit right there,” Tanrin said, glaring at him. “Elves aren’t that much different from you.”

Oh jeez!

“No, not like that!” Aldwin huffed in frustration.

How do I explain they are essentially digital gingers? He thought with a chuckle. I can’t just come out and say “you are nothing more than a digital code created to entertain children and introverts. You lack a soul and are following a set of pre-programmed parameters.”

“This world… no, this universe… differs from your current understanding. There are fundamental variances inside us that make us different. These differences have nothing to do with race or class.” Aldwin tried to explain. He paused, trying to gather the words. “Some individuals have what are called souls. This is the immaterial essences of who the person is. Souls can be both strengthened and damaged. Somehow, your brother seems to be stuck in a mixture of both.”

Tanrin was silent for a moment, confusion and desperation clear in his eyes. “Can you fix it?” Aldwin perused his inventory pouch. This character upgrade acted like an invisible, secure backpack that kept everything in stasis. Ah, there they are.

“I can try to help, but there are no guarantees,” stated Aldwin. He then pulled a Grand Soul Stone from his inventory, placed it in Thorben’s hand, and closed his fist around it, where it crumbled into a wisp of light and sunk into his palm.

~Thorben~

How long had Deepiron floated in this vast nothingness? He had no recollection. The only thing he knew for sure was he was Deepiron. He couldn’t let go of that. He chanted that phrase on an endless loop.

As he began the mantra again, a thin tendril of ethereal light shot out from his palm into the vast distance of endless darkness. Deepiron was a bit puzzled by this fresh sensation. It was an enigma. The purplish haze forming the light rope seemed fragile, nothing more than a smoky wisp barely holding together, but it felt as solid as the finest steel in his grip. He felt a tug within his core. This light resonated with something deep inside him.

He had no physical body in this form, but somehow still pulled himself along. With that first pull forward, he felt a tingle in his mind. Tanrin. He pulled again. My brother. As he pulled himself forward, something pulled the fragments of his soul closer and closer together. Hours passed, or was it years? Time had no meaning here. It could have been mere seconds or millennia. He had no control over that. In the end, it didn’t matter as the result was the same. He remembered. He was Thorben Deepiron, and it was time to wake up. Just as he was about to make the last pull to consciousness, a large brown rock slammed into his incorporeal side and lodged deep into his core. With a scream of effort, he pulled himself free of the void.

His eyes fluttered open. “Tanrin?”

“I’m here, Thorben. How do you feel?” Tanrin asked.

“Do you remember that flower urn mom got for her birthday? The one we broke wrestling in the house?” Thorben asked.

“How could I forget? We spent a quarter moon straight putting it back together and repainting it!”

“I expect I feel an awful lot like that urn.” His brother sat with him and listened intently as he conveyed his experiences. He found out he had been unconscious for approximately a half moon, and heard the lengths that his brother had gone through to save him.

After they had caught each other up, he noticed a man sitting on the floor in the room’s corner, unaware of everything going on around him. “Is that him?” Thorben asked as he struggled to push himself up.

“Yes, it’s me, kid. What, you think I’m some random groupie tagging along for your show? Stay laying down. Soul injuries take time to bounce back from and I don’t feel like saving you again,” the ill-tempered man said.

Tanrin shook his head, “Thorben meet Aldwin, Aldwin meet Thorben.”

Thorben glanced over, mouth agape, but stayed laying down. “Thank you for saving me. I don’t know what you did, but I am pretty sure I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m absolutely sure you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my intervention. Tell me, Thorben, where are you from?” Aldwin said.

Thorben looked over in confusion. “Where I’m from?”

“Where you were born? Where did you start to be alive? Where did your parents knock boots and 9 months later you arrived? Where are you from?” Aldwin said in an exasperated tone.

“Umm… the Langwin Highlands… not sure where my parents conceived me,” Thorben said as he turned to his brother. “Is he always like this?”

“From what I hear, it is this, or passed out drunk,” Tanrin said.

Thorben turned back to Aldwin to see him pale as a ghost. “Why do you care where I’m from? And what’s a groupie?”

Aldwin said as he crept closer. “Let me look into your eyes.”

“Listen, I’m thankful that you saved my life, but you are really creeping me out,” Thorben said tiredly. “I’m not sure I want some guy I’ve never even had dinner with gazing into my eyes.”

“You insolent little shit. I need to verify something!” screamed Aldwin.

“It’s still there,” Tanrin chimed in. “Relax Thorben. It’s your eyes. They have some kind of rainbow lighting dancing in them.” Tanrin passed his brother the hand mirror Martha had left.

Thorben glanced into the mirror before slamming it down on the mattress and closing his eyes. “What the hell is going on with my eyes?!”

“Do you feel anything? Is your vision any different from it was before?” Asked Aldwin.

Thorben opened his eyes. “My vision is the same as it has always been. I have some pressure behind my eyes, a bit of a headache, but isn’t that being expected from a guy who just came back from near death?!”

“How long have you been pushing off, leveling up?” Whispered a visibly shaken Aldwin.

“What are you babbling about? What’s leveling up? And what the hell is a groupie?!” Thorben blurted out.