Authors Corner
Like always, I'd love feedback.
Specifically, feedback about my writing style. I've had to modify it slightly each chapter to achieve the effect on plot and voice that I've wanted, and once again heavily for this chapter.
I think basic is best, so I want to know if it's confusing or hard to follow.
That or any feedback is welcome.
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Chapter 5 – Thanks for the Save, Sav.
Wilson.
Hanging around.
Time: ?
I'm just hanging around.
Haaa.......
I'm literally hanging by my hands right now.
I can only sigh because I'm forcing myself to joke around. I don't think that it's funny, but that isn't the point, I'm trying to lighten my own mood. I'm just not very successful. My sense of humor is waning.
It's harder to find comedy now that clarity has overcome me. From the time I met Sav to now I've had a steadily growing sensation that the previous couple months were a dream. Despite me wishing otherwise, those months did in fact happen, but I can't imagine what I was thinking.
I don't need to stretch to make a guess; my mind is working properly now. I've had time to sober up since I've been taken prisoner.
Something had been effecting my mind.
My lucid state now is due to these manacles I'm wearing. Every day since the day I was forced to wear them, slowly but surely, my fervor had died a little more. As of yesterday, I think I'm the same person I was on day one of this new life. Unfortunately, there are leftover effects.
I have a twitch in my right eye which is usually followed by the overwhelming impulse to hit anything near me.
I've confirmed this from the many times Sav unexpectedly uncovered the back of the wagon and yelled at me to keep my “Tricks” to myself before letting me out for a break. His yelling is certainly annoying, but I don't think a rational person would kill a human over it. The threatening sentiment is mostly gone by the time he unfastens my manacles from the roof of the wagon. I was close to the limit of my self-control a few days back. He had kept poking me to “Get moving” with his spear.
I think he had realized it wouldn't have been a good idea to continue poking when he had had a look at my face. I was barely stifling a snarl.
Outbursts of anger aside, these manacles must be cursed. They are definitely made of an unusual metal and have markings all over them. I can't be sure, but I think I remember them changing size to fit me when I put them on.
With all this time to think, I've observed that they are cursing my body along with whatever was poisoning my mind. The poisoning being my urge to run around with a death wish. Ever since I've put them on, I've had to feel hunger and thirst again. I don't want to get into specifics, but my plumbing is all hooked up as well, which is relieving in it's own way.
Oh, a pun. I'm guess I'm doing better.
Anyways, the curse, if it is one, isn't complete. My ridiculous strength remains, although when poked with the spear, I did bleed a little, not that that was entirely new. My hunger and thirst are mild. I can deal with eating only one meal a day. I only require a nap to feel rested. Of course there are still occasional wild outbursts too.
I think it's the fact that I have a mind clear of rampage, along with knowing that my body can break free at any time, that makes me play along with my imprisonment.
Sav isn't too bad, he has far more teeth than I had previously made out. He's only missing two. He's dirty, but then again, he doesn't have an auto-clean function on his clothes like me. Fortunately he doesn't smell.
From this distance, anyways.
I've been trying to get as much information as I could out of him since he first threw these manacles at me to put on. I'm just so thankful that whichever whim I was entertaining at that time included wearing these in the first place. I can just as easily imagine my past self throwing the manacles towards the horizon, laughing spontaneously, and then smashing this poor man into a mist.
...
A small shiver just ran down my spine.
So... Sav has been treating me with suspicion, and I think he is right to do so. Not that I'll tell him that. I was worried about my stuttering when I was first talking to him, but after a few days of harassing him, it has since disappeared.
Aside from quiet grumbling, Sav hasn't said much, other than his name, that I'll “Not be getting his spirits” and that he'd like to see some man's face when I become that man's problem. It sounds like I'm being taken to a warden, but I don't really feel like a prisoner, and Sav isn't a guard or anything. I think he might be a hunter, looking at the contents in the back of this wagon. He has inferred that I am a “magekin” or something, but since I have no idea how to cast a spell, I have no idea how he got that impression. He won't say anything on the subject. He could have at least called me “wizardkin”.
Jerk.
Insults aside, it's my current belief that I'm not truly a prisoner. Sav's concerned about my health. He's asking if I have had enough food and water and if I'm managing to sleep when he unfastens my arms from the wagon at the end of each night. I'm currently lifting myself up and hanging from my hands to get a better view of outside, but I normally sit on a barrel that Sav put a cushion on. Not exactly how you'd treat a prisoner, right?
The food and water were a nice change, but the food tasted incredibly bland. It was the same sort of gruel every day. There were fatty chunks of meat in it, but I couldn't taste the meat over the gruel. Probably for the best, I want my first real taste of this life to be a good memory, not a bad one.
I had the idea that he might be trying to fatten me up, which led me to think I might be sold as a slave. I was worried, so I had asked him while watching for a guilty reaction, but his confusion about the subject was evident. Instead, I discovered yet another strange fact about my new life.
My language has been changed, and not in a way that makes sense to me. I don't know what languages I can understand, or the language I'm using to speak. I hadn't even thought about it until now.
I found out when I said the word “slave”. In my head it feels like the same language I normally speak in. When I said the word out loud though, Sav turned around and repeated it back to me questioningly, as if he didn't recognize it.
It sounded nothing like the language I'm used to hearing. So different in fact, that it was undoubtedly a word from a different language. What is causing me a headache is that it is in the same language the same as the word “slave” in my head. It's as if my natural dialect is a perfect blend of other languages.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I recall that the beings that brought me here did more than just mess with my memories, but I didn't know that their work extended to my language. The language that I use inside my head was even replaced by a mixture of different languages. That's incredibly thorough.
I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around the thought. I've been questioning the sounds of all my words against anything I can remember. It's no use, there is nothing to find.
I don't want to go mad, so instead I'm currently negotiating better accommodations. I've been stuck in the back of this wagon with only a tiny bit of light coming through the hole in the front that Sav keeps watching me through.
Ahh. I want a view other than his face.
“Sav, please. Let me have just a small window back here to see the land, I have nothing else to do.”
“Shutup. You won't be foolin' meh.”
“All you have to do is tie this flap up, you can even close it when it rains, I won't complain.”
“...”
“Some light would be nice for my eyes, what would you do if I was blind by the time we got to this man you're bringing me to?”
“...”
“What if I promise to stop talking to you?”
“......Just the flap, y'said?”
---
Sav.
Here.
Now.
I ain't never seen a Magekin like 'at one before. Wearin' that weird Ethul. The Ethul ain't got proper colors, neither.
He almost bashed 'is own teeth in tryin' to bite my feet when I first saw 'im.
Spirits-be, how 'is eyes were wild.
Heram, I know you ought be too busy to be listenin' to simple folk like me, but please keep the home of this here heart safe from the Magekin. The things they be doin' ain't for me to know, but they be stealin' from all the Spirits they can. I know that, certain.
Them Magekin are a tricky lot. This one just put on the Sealers without a complaint, which sure is strange. He probably is playin' at some strange game or just plain tryin' to rob me. Can't trust thieves o'course. I've kept 'is hands up so I'll've time to run in case he tries somethin'.
One day, I was getting him moving, and he nearly tried bitin' meh. All fangs, his lips were curled back in a way I ain't see a person be doing before. He be savage inside, I know it.
I think he knows he can't fool these eyes, I know what I saw in him. He's been quieter now, given up yappin' away tryin' to get my guard lowered.
But I been around. Everyone knows Magekin aren't to be trusted with, even when they quiet. Can't just bang 'em up, neither. They're like a pack of wolves, they are.
Now he's tryin' to strike a deal with me. He says he'll stop pesterin' me with all these damned questions if I leave part of the wagon uncovered. Says he just be wantin' to see where he 'is.
As if I'd be believin' 'im. He's here, ain't he? 'ow he not know where he went wanderin'? I'll play with 'is tune, because if it means he'll leave me be, less chance my Spirits get thieved.
He can be playin' all the tunes he want to.
Because I'll keep my eyes on 'im, right up until I force 'im onto that Merchant.
---
Wilson.
Close to a city.
A few days later.
My earlier negotiations were successful. It was enjoyable suddenly being able to watch the landscape as we slowly traveled along. After a couple days though, with barely a peep out of Sav, and not wanting to lose my scenery privileges, I was getting so ridiculously bored that I started practicing with my bubbles. They was really the only skill I could work on with my hands all tied up.
I still want to be a wizard, of course, but now that I can think it through, there is no reason to ignore tools at my disposal.
I've stumbled into another revelation. The bubbles I can make now number 1,174. Just counting that high was hard enough, but trying to figure out the reason behind the change has been even harder. I can make them far smaller and far larger than before, although they don't come larger than my head or smaller than my thumb. It's easier to control them, too. I just have to think of certain parts of them as a group, then those groups as a part of other groups. I can even create them with the groups in mind.
It's all very fascinating, but I think that a few months ago, even though I was doing stupid things, I had made a good decision by not relying on these bubbles. I can't study them too obviously without making Sav suspicious, but they still don't have to seem to serve any specific purpose. I suppose I could make a large batch of them and wrap it around myself to distort my features. I'll keep that in mind if I get in trouble in the upcoming city.
Speaking of which, I can get a better look at it now we're closer, it's a city in two sections, or two sister cities, but since the two parts are so close, only separated by a small bay, it looks like two parts of a whole. The city's smaller section rising above the ocean looks to be an island.
The aura of the city feels amazing, but antiquated. I don't mind. I can't remember any particular city from my past life, so this city is technically the first one I've ever seen.
The sections look like fraternal twins, with how they're situated on the water and how different the sections are. The section we're coming to is of course the one on the mainland, and has light gray stone walls surrounding it, but it doesn't compare to the section of the city sitting on a small island.
Built like a fortress, massive black walls span the ocean side. The side that's facing inland has walls almost as large, with the exception of the middle third, where it looks like docks have taken over.
Large wide buildings painted various bright colors pepper the docks. Without any windows that I can see, I'm assuming they are warehouses. They climb all the way up the small slope of the island until they stop at another heavily walled area which is probably the... castle. Fort. Whatever it's called, it's undoubtedly where the ruler lives.
The splotches of colors mixed in with the austere fortifications make the city look lively and orderly at the same time.
I think my reformed self will fit right in.
Though I do hope I can get rid of this twitch.
---