Daniel’s first night in the foreign world was relatively peaceful, all things considered. He tried to stay awake to ensure Arnica didn’t change her mind and slit his throat while he slept, but exhaustion soon overcame him and his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open.
Birdsong announced the new dawn, and Daniel was glad to find his neck intact. Taur left early to gather firewood, leaving Daniel with the sorceress Arnica. Daniel watched as she pulled herbs and dried meats from her bag and began to prepare their breakfast. Realizing that she had no plans to initiate a conversation, Daniel took it upon himself.
“Can I help?” he asked. She looked up from her work, startled. She began to protest but stopped herself, pressing her lips together in a thin line before nodding her assent. Daniel realized that as a lord such duties would likely have been outside Telann’s scope of responsibility in such a party. Daniel’s place with relation to her was still ambiguous, but he was certainly not Telann, and for the moment she seemed to have eased up on the notion that he was an abomination to dispense with. As far as what his role would be with these people, one thing Daniel was sure of was that he wanted to be help out as soon as possible. He could ill afford to be a burden while wearing their late friend’s face. He moved to Arnica’s side, gritting his teeth through the aches that had still not completely subsided. He followed her lead in preparing a stew, but soon realized that the vegetables had a habit of rotting in his hands when they had been fresh just moments before. More evidence that the world itself was rejecting him. Daniel shifted uneasily under Arnica’s gaze when she noticed.
“Maybe it would be better if you just tended the fire,” she said. “From a distance.” Daniel nodded dejectedly, doing so in silence for a few minutes before he gathered the courage to ask her a question.
“What’s the plan? Your plan, I mean. Are we going somewhere, doing something?” She snorted derisively, but answered anyway.
“Our plan has recently become impossible. Taur and I are… undecided as to the next course of action.” Chagrined, Daniel realized that she was referring to his placement in Telann’s body. Then, a knot of anger began to boil in his chest as he realized that he was not responsible for the present situation. Without this woman’s meddling, her ritual, he would be back at school in his own body, studying to become a doctor.
“What happened?” Daniel asked. “Telann was a duke, right? And you’re a mage, what are you doing in a dirty cave along some caravan route? Something must have gone wrong.” A spark of rage came alight in Arnica’s eyes at that, and the thought crossed Daniel’s mind that he might try harder not to antagonize her while she held a cooking knife, which he now realized was the very same instrument as she had threatened him with the night before.
“Many things went wrong,” she said. “Our home is to the North, in the mammoth steppe. It has recently been overrun, and our people live in exile, as do we.”
“Overrun? By what?”
“Something old,” Taur declared, entering the cave with an armful of firewood just in time to hear the question. “Something from the ice fields, frozen for hundreds, or thousands of years. We don’t know. But the ice melted, and they woke up.”
“Global warming?” Daniel asked incredulously. “We’re in a pre-industrial world and there’s still global warming?”
“The phenomena is localized, not global,” Arnica retorted, scowling at him.
“In any case,” Taur said, dropping the firewood and easing his bulk down to sit by the fire, “they were not keen to share their old territories with us.”
“So, your people are in exile. Why aren’t we with them?”
“The survivors couldn’t stay together,” Taur lamented, “no one community would be able to sustain our whole population, they would deny us outright. Lord Telann gave the order to disperse, so we could more easily find shelter.”
“What killed him then?” Daniel asked, leaning forward. Taur averted his eyes, blinking away an upwelling of tears. Daniel realized how distressing that question must be coming from him of all people, in Telann’s body.
“We were pursued,” Arnica replied, expressionless, poking at the fire. We turned about and gave battle to the hunter. "Telann was hurt and several others were killed." She made a mocking, extravagant gesture around the cave. “Behold what remains of the ducal retinue of Lord Telann of Rhud.”
“Telann fought off the pursuer, but was poisoned, or cursed, or something. Arnica tried a ritual to bind his soul to his body so he could fight it off, but, well…”
“Me.”
“Yes, you.”
Daniel considered this. He stared down at a pair of hands that were not his, ran his fingers along scars whose stories he didn’t remember, and callouses he’d never developed.
“Who was Telann’s boss?” Daniel asked. “His sire, liege, whatever. Is there a king? Someone we can go to for help?” Arnica barked a laugh, to which Taur responded with a glare.
“The imperial court,” he said. “They have neglected our plight, but the duke wanted to bring the matter before the lady regent himself.”
“And now we have no advocate.” Arnica said.
“What about allies?” Daniel asked. “Did Telann have important family, or friends we could go to?” Arnica shrugged.
“Mostly in other territories to the North, which are in a similar situation to our own. The imperial court officially blames us for failing to protect ourselves, and they seem content to let us fall as punishment for that failure.”
“Then what do we do?” Daniel asked, frustrated. Arnica and Taur exchanged glances as an awkward silence fell over the cave.
They don’t know, Daniel realized. Telann had been their leader, they’d tried everything they could to save him so he could make these decisions. But now he was gone, and they were left with Daniel possessing his body like a puppet.
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That tension hung in the air as the trio ate their breakfast. Afterward, they broke camp and Taur announced that there was a decent sized town only two days’ travel away. Regardless of long-term plans, that was a step they could agree on at least.
As hard as he tried, Daniel hadn’t yet recovered enough strength to carry any of the group’s gear, not without holding back their pace. Taur carried the bulk of it while Arnica shouldered an impressive pack herself. It was odd, walking in a body that was not his own. Moving around was easy enough, but the stride was just a little different. The body’s instincts persisted, even though the mind and soul which governed it had changed.
As they walked, Daniel found that his eyes kept drifting to the weapons Taur had carefully wrapped and placed in his load that morning. Among them were a massive unstrung bow, a spear, and a sword in a beautiful wooden scabbard, which had now been hidden by an oilskin cloth to protect it.
“Do you use all of those?” Daniel asked as he grew tired of the silence between them, gesturing to the weapons. Taur shook his head.
“Just the bow and spear. The sword belongs to the duke.” Daniel wondered whether the body’s persisting instincts would remember how to wield the weapon. Of course, any deliberate high-level knowledge would be lost, but perhaps some familiarity remained. He would have to ask Taur later if he could try it.
Daniel found that the rigors of travel actually helped his pain. Like exercising after a few days of being sore, working the muscles loosened and invigorated them. It surprised him how quickly he grew accustomed to this new body’s rhythms as well. Telann’s proportions weren’t dissimilar from his own, but if Daniel had to guess the duke had been more physically fit than he had been back on Earth. He’d competed in several sports, sure, but the daily rigors of life in this place and age must have posed a different order of challenge, even for someone as well off as a duke.
Dense underbrush loomed to either side of the well-worn traders’ track, obscuring the forest hills and more distant mountains. Beyond those mountains—Taur had told him earlier—lay the mammoth steppe, Telann’s now-abandoned homeland. A variety of birds flew overhead, from darting forest jays to soaring eagles. Even a curious raven followed the group for quite a ways, likely hoping to steal something edible.
Staring at the underbrush, for lack of other entertainment, Daniel grew curious as he remembered the vegetables from that morning and the blanket from the night before. He plucked a leaf from a cranberry bush, spinning it between two fingers. Several minutes passed, and despite his expectation it didn’t wilt. He let the leaf drop from his fingertips and picked a wildflower instead. Taur saw this, raising an eyebrow.
“Fond of flowers?” he asked.
“No,” Daniel replied, “just experimenting.” Taur cocked his head in confusion.
“On flowers?”
“On myself. The world itself rejects my presence, right? That would include flowers.”
“Evidently not,” Taur grinned, gesturing to the bloom whose petals remained bright and full. “Maybe you’ve found a part of the world that accepts you, eh?”
“Not likely,” Arnica called out from ahead without turning to look at the two men. “You are anathema to existence itself Daniel. Even if you don’t notice, your presence pervades all of it. Like a stench.” Taur winced before patting Daniel on the back with more force than he likely intended, betraying the substantial strength of that large frame.
“Don’t mind her. Our dear mage is a prickly sort, but you’ll get used to it.”
Arnica’s explanation intrigued Daniel, and he quickened his step to walk beside her.
“Anathema to existence, got it, but why did the food rot in my hands before, and not the flower? Why did I destroy the blankets, and not everything else I’ve touched?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I expect it isn’t an easy thing to define. The forces that govern the world around us are not clockwork mechanisms. They live, and they can be fickle. You may learn the pattern of their moods with time, if there is one to be found. You were a scholar, yes? I’ve gathered that you are no mage, but did you ever study any arcane theory?” Daniel started to laugh but cut himself short as he saw a dangerous glint in Arnica’s eyes.
“My world doesn’t have mages,” he explained to his companions’ surprise. “I was studying to become a doctor, a healer.” Taur made an approving grunt from behind them.
“A noble profession.”
“But without the aid of magic?” Arnica scoffed. “Did you peddle herbs like some village matriarch?”
“Not exactly,” Daniel said. “We have ways to create useful components like the ones from wild herbs, only much more potent, and they can do all kinds of things. Numb pain, sanitize wounds, fight infection. We also know how to perform surgeries to fix internal problems.”
“You were to be a cutter!” Taur exclaimed, “And without the aid of magic? That must be bloody work indeed.”
“Sometimes, but we’ve become very good at it.” Daniel rubbed his neck, cheeks reddening. “Well, real doctors have. I’m not one yet, but someday…” he’d said that phrase many times before, but this time the words died on his lips as he realized that he might not have the chance to achieve that “someday” anymore. He cleared his throat, anxious to move the conversation to a different topic.
“What do you to do? For work, that is.”
“I was the house’s master huntsman,” Taur said, and Daniel could hear the pride in his voice. “Arnica was.. well, she—”
“I’m a necromancer,” Arnica interrupted, deadpan. “Graves are shallow on the steppe, and the dead far outnumber the living. No lord governs there without a cadre of us to keep the spirits in check.”
“It might be best to keep that detail to ourselves though, lad. Attitudes toward the profession are a little more strained here South of the mountains,” Taur said. Arnica shrugged, as if it made no difference to her.
A little stunned by this revelation, Daniel was content to walk in relative silence for what remained of the day, mulling over what he’d learned about Telann’s comrades.
Necromancy was evil, wasn’t it? At least, it always seemed to be portrayed that way in fiction. There was something taboo, something deeply unsettling in the notion of disturbing people’s final sleep. There was no fairness in life, no guarantee of rest, but death was the one great bastion of equality. Its embrace spared none, and though some people lived longer than others, everyone spent the same eternity in death. However, Taur seemed accepting, and he’d been nothing but kind since Daniel had met the man. Daniel hoped this magnanimity meant the huntsman’s moral compass could be trusted, but even he was not naïve enough to believe that the two qualities were always shared. What if duke Telann’s retinue had ideals Daniel could not abide? He would have to strike out on his own then, wouldn’t he?
These were Telann’s friends, and he did occupy Telann’s body, but he couldn’t fill the duke’s shoes. He was Daniel, and he would need to decide his own course of action. The thought terrified him.
Even if he did decide to leave these two’s company, he wouldn’t have the chance until they got to civilization. Once there, he would revaluate. As would they, Daniel imagined. With their home gone, their leader gone, and no clear path to restoring either, the dilemma facing them was little better than his own. Daniel thought he could sense this distress in Taur. The big man had no mask, he wore his expressions clearly on his face. Often, Daniel caught him staring off toward the mountains, forlorn. Arnica was more difficult to read. She’d expressed hostility to him on a few occasions but had revealed little besides that. Perhaps those experiences really were the depth of her emotions, or perhaps not.
The trio made camp in a small clearing some ways off the beaten path. They hadn’t seen other travellers on the road—because of the season Taur had said—but the possibility remained that bandits could wander this way, and this way they would be harder to discover. They’d made good pace, and would arrive in the sizeable town of Konti early the next day.
Clear skies meant they could sleep under the stars, and Daniel marvelled at the brilliant display in the clear night sky. There were no artificial lights here to distract from the universe’s raw, primordial beauty. The constellations were unfamiliar, but comforting. Since he’d been torn from his own body and brought here, Daniel had been constantly overshadowed by worry and confusion. In that great wheel overhead though, illuminated by thousands of brilliant, distant lights, he felt comforted, somehow sure that he could find a path forward.