But he wasn’t alone.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Gilbert’s cry broke the despair in Zayne’s head. He saw the blur of his massive blade crashing against its side, nudging it away ever so slightly that its bite missed Zayne’s head, filling its jaw full of cut grass instead. Zayne wobbled his way to an unsteady stance, stumbling over more than once as he fumbled his way to safety.
His eyes attempted to spot his lost daggers, yet, they were hidden beneath the rustling plains with grass taller than his waist, so all he did was sigh in defeat. His eyes darted to this only other findable arsenal—the spear swaying along with the giant warg’s head.
A few arrows zipped as Gilbert parried the sluggish swipes and bites from the wounded warg, lodging their way into its furry skin. “Wyne! Heal him! We need the buffs! We can’t hold anything back here!” Oswul turned to Wyne behind him, chugging what appeared to be a mana potion. Those sold for a gold coin for a bottle—an extravagant item Zayne could only dream of having.
“You don’t have to say it…” Wyne’s eyes stiffened, then shimmered from the magic circle enveloping her staff.
“[Minor heal]” “[Fortify Brawn]”
Light show emanated below Zayne’s feet. A refreshing surge flushed his mind, and his once wobbly vision stabilized into a clear picture. His body convalesced and… he felt… way, way stronger. Her magic's awesome, “Thanks…” he muttered over to Wyne, whose tired smile greeted his sight.
“I’ll soften its limbs, prevent it from gathering its footing.” Oswul yanked his bowstring, “Help Gilbert, he’ll draw its attention, and you’ll deal the finishing blow. There’s a spot between its eyes that it is weak at,” He pushed on the spot between his eyes, “Go!”
Zayne grimaced at the massive warg nearing the end of its life, then with a giant push of his feet, he rushed to aid Gilbert. Arrows trailed and passed through his advance, landing square at its limbs. They buckled lightly every time an arrow found its mark, but the monster shrugged it off, using aggression as a mask of its true condition. A few paws clashed against Gilbert’s shoulders, but he kept his stance. This guy is stronger than I thought. Way stronger.
“[Poison strikes]”
He sprinted, using his momentum to slide past the warg’s nasty swipe. Upon reaching its dying stare, he leaped high enough to grasp his spear and yanked it off its head. The warg cried, recoiled itself back, retreating, whining, crying, showing signs of a hazy languor. Zayne twirled his downright dilapidated spear, noting Gilbert’s advance, then rushed alongside him. The warg bellowed—its eyes glinted red with a final outcry—then shouldered Gilbert’s blade, stopping his swing before it reached its maximum momentum; a downright suicidal act, but doing so allowed it to keep its head up to meet Zayne’s spear. It opened its maw in an attempt to swallow Zayne whole.
A rush of adrenaline flooded Zayne’s blood vessels. His heartbeat pounded. His eyes took in everything there was to see. The chaos overwhelmed him, yet his mind was as clear as the sky above. He halted his advance, stepping back just enough to avoid its crushing bite. Empty air blasted his hair back as he stared it straight in its eyes, then, with a grunt, delivered a final thrust to its eye sockets.
###
“Thanks for helping us!” Gilbert thanked Zayne as they reaped the rewards from killing the warg pack. “We wouldn’t have survived had you not intervened. They came out of nowhere in the middle of our hunt, then circled us to prevent our escape. We’d killed about five of them before you showed up, but our resources and stamina had run thin.” A dark shadow cast the bags under his eyes, “We… We got impatient. Ran a little too close to their territory.”
Zayne kept his head high, smiling, “It’s fine. We’re all alive in the end, that’s what matters.” He recalled the dangerous risks he took in that lake, and their situation came from unforeseen circumstances. “Is everyone alright?”
Wyne and Oswul were busy extracting the gems of the little ones; they left the large one for Zayne as a show of gratitude. The three siblings carried a disturbed look in their eyes; the realization that death nearly swiped their necks lingering in their thoughts. They had to familiarize themselves with it regardless, so for it to happen this early might not be such a bad thing.
“You’re really strong!” Gilbert said, amazed, “I thought you were a goner after taking such a brutal swing on the face... But here you are… Thank goodness.”
Zayne watched his solemn expression, unable to conjure the right words to speak, “No, you’re right. That swipe nearly killed me.” Zayne replied, recalling the period of numbness and disorientation with a frown. “Without proper healing, I don’t think I’ll even be conscious right now.” In his grasp was a larger monster gem nearing the size of a pebble. It snarled with an ardent heat. “Is it just me, or is this way bigger than usual? And… shinier?” Elite monsters’ gems were bigger, he knew that, but this one was different. It had the same feeling the panther’s gem carried—and Zayne huffed to dampen his excitement from the possibility of another essence gem.
[You obtained a monster gem : [White-Plains warg alpha]]
Gilbert cocked his eyes, regarding his find, “Yeah… It is. And look at that, it’s so clear like it’s transparent!” With a smile, he tapped Zayne’s shoulder, “It must sell for a lot. You should get that gem appraised. Congrats, you totally deserved it.”
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Zayne’s eyes followed the other two as he pouched the giant warg’s gem. “What are you going to do next?” He asked Gilbert as he brandished his sword, scanning for nicks and chips. “I have no choice but to head back, unfortunately, all my weapons are done for, save for these daggers.” He tapped his waist where the daggers dangled. His spear snapped in half from his final thrust, its blade curled in a way no sane men deemed it usable.
He hollered at the others. “What do you think? I believe we’ve had enough for the day, ahaha…” his laughter couldn’t be any more strained, the pressure hadn’t quite left their tongues yet. Oswul and Wyne nodded eagerly. Then Gilbert continued, “You know what? As a thanks, how about we treat you for a dinner? Also, I have spare blades you can use. Think of it as… compensation.”
“Spare blades? I-“ Zayne took another peek at his gigantic, almost unwieldy sword.
Zayne was about to refuse, but Gilbert held his hands high, “I’m not open to any discussions, Zayne. If we didn’t do this, we’d be complete assholes. You’d saved us, so let us do this one small favor. And relax, my other swords are smaller, I believe someone speedy like you preferred that instead.”
With his fervent insistence, Zayne had no choice but to sigh and follow along.
Gentle wind cruised the plains as the four hopefuls regarded the previous encounter in their minds. The siblings appeared rueful for having involved Zayne in their own mistakes, but Zayne affirmed to them he chose to help himself, and he alone must suffer the consequences. “Besides, I couldn’t just sit still and do nothing.” He muttered in a low voice, rubbing his arms, “I’ve been given the chance to help before, and I failed.”
Wyne and Oswul kept their words to themselves, and the walk, as silent as it seemed, was rife with discord. For Zayne, his biggest deliberation would be the pebble-sized gem in his satchel, from his limited experience, its strange glimmer bore a chance of an essence gem. But he surmised it’d sell for a lot too, so…
Shades of orange permeated the gates when they entered, and inside, a bustling crowd paced their way around the guild buildings. The four newbies strolled past, heads deep in their minds. Oswul mentioned the incredible building owned by one of the guilds, and Wyne told of her wish to join a strong guild after her license test. Gilbert kept his lips shut, appearing to be in deep thought. Their Violet eyes drew a light attention from the buzzing horde of men, or perhaps Zayne’s ragged appearance contrasted their dignified look just a pinch too much. Either seemed to be right.
They went past the commerce district, went a few steps lower, then took a sharp turn right; Zayne had entered what he considered the ‘taverns and inns’ street. Rows and rows of multifaceted buildings with bright and dim hues painted the absolutely boisterous setting. People of different faces and types roamed about as if the streets belonged to them. The smell of mead, meat, and the occasional stench of sweat permeated—nearing a pervasive odor Zayne exuded himself from days of hunting. They waded through the dense crowd with utmost precision, stopping once they reached the Sparrow inn.
It was slightly smaller than the others, made of timbered walls and cobblestone, appearing older than the street itself. Inside, a warm, humid glow of orange from its hearth bathed them as they entered. To their right, a dining hall quite similar to Kate’s was filled with half-drunk and half-asleep individuals. Jaspian was right, there was a certain charm to this place that Zayne sorely missed.
The grumbles of an old woman welcomed them when they found a cozy spot near the corners. Here, the windows only existed on one side. Across it were the walls and the occasional painting and decorations. Beams of strong wood slashed the ceiling; the once-white plaster had weathered with age, the cracks and holes dotted the inn’s solid walls. The scent of firewood and food filled Zayne’s nostrils as his stomach rumbled; a look in the eyes of the others told the same story.
“Uh… how about steak for the four of us? And… Mead? Can we?” Gilbert asked, and the old woman sighed.
Zayne studied her look; she was almost an identical copy of Kate, aged twice older, and shorter. Her eyes, as quarreled with wrinkles as they were, displayed the liveliness Zayne dreamed of having. She wore a simple long dress thicker than her gaunt self, with a rag tied across her waist. “No mead for those unlicensed. Is that all? What about this dirty as hell boy?” She pointed at Zayne, noting his state of hygiene. Zayne’s cheeks flushed from the sudden discernment at himself but found no words to rebut her statement. She clicked her tongue, reaching to a pocket on the side of the dress, and tossed four bronze-tinted coins on the table. “Here. A bath token, use it to bathe yourselves. You know where it is-” she pointed opposite where Zayne sat, “Get yourselves clean, then eat. I’ll save this spot for you.”
She left with a grumpy huff.
“Don’t mind her rudeness,” Gilbert grinned, “She’s a hard soul, but she has treated us with nothing but kindness.” Oswul and Wyne nodded along, sharing a knowing look.
“I can see that,” Zayne followed his smile. “So… are we bathing first?”
“Well, you heard her.” Gilbert rose from his seat, “Come on, the water’s warm, and the bathhouse is hugeee!” His ardor was infectious, “-way bigger than the bathroom in our estate.”
###
Gilbert wasn’t lying. The public bathhouse spanned an entire block.
A fragrant scent wafted from within when they stood a few heads away from the entrance. The giant, wooden doors opened; damp from the humidity and warm from the near-scalding temperature of the water. Stoned flooring, coarse to provide solid footing, jabbed their soles as they ventured inside. Boxing the sea of wet—and arguably clean—adventurers and the common folk, were walls erected of bricks and cobblestone. Tough, aged, wooden beams stood uniformly, extending to the ceiling with a hollow box above, providing much-needed space for the heat to escape. They turned left to a large, sparse counter manned by sweaty men, handed their coin, and were given a clean-looking towel set, “Weapons here.” The man said, extending his arm. Once Zayne handed his daggers and Gilbert’s sword clanked against the hardwood, they headed inside.
Two openings led to two different sections; one for each gender. Wyne went to the women’s section, opposite where the boys headed. Inside, a smoking pool with an open space on its side welcomed them. Rows of tiny stone boxes were arranged in a line, each housing a small faucet for personal use. A large space near the corner of the bathhouse allowed them to store their armor.
Zayne performed his usual cleaning duties—he wasn’t uncomfortable with nudity inside a bathhouse—and enjoyed a nice warm bath, soaped himself, and once he was clean enough, he entered the pool. With all the smoke and ruddied bodies, he’d anticipated smoldering heat, and while the temperature was high, it didn’t discomfort him.
“Cool, right?” Oswul said, “Having a core dampened most extreme temperatures unless they begin to harm you, then your body will definitely let you know. It’s a strange balance, sometimes you feel chills from a mere breeze, but stuff like this-” he cupped a mouthful of water, letting it pour gently from his hand, “-it’s just awesome. It’s also why you don’t see all strong adventurers destroying doorknobs when they opened doors, the extra brawn only applied when we exerted our muscles.”
Gilbert joined them soon after. They found a calm spot near a quiet corner, settling into their comfortable spots while gazing at the blissful scene.
“We almost died today,” Gilbert spoke after a period of silence. “I know Wyne’s not showing much of a reaction about it, but she’s…” He sighed, scratching his damp scalp, “Well, she’s not taking it too well. The license test is commencing very soon. You kinda know how she feels from a glance if you lived with her your entire life. None of us had ever been in such a dire state before, and we certainly didn’t expect mere wargs to put us into that position.”
Oswul kept his head low. “We’ll grow past this.” His eyes shone with a violet fortitude. Zayne knew him to be sheepish, but now, he knew Oswul simply kept most of his speech to himself, and let Gilbert do most of the talking. “You know what our father said; Strength is earned. Courage begets might.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Gilbert let his head cook under the water, then re-emerged as he blew a large breath, “We’ll be fine. As long as we’re together… Nothing will break us.”
Zayne knew little about having siblings. But from the gossip and the constant fight for power within royalties and noble households re-told by the rumors and news, he understood the bond these three siblings had was special.