Chapter 53: A Horse is a Horse, Of Course, Of Course
Six horses had been recovered, and three confirmed dead; with nine left to go, the search continued. As we continued due East, signs of life began to make an appearance. Far from the emptiness from before, field mice, rabbits, voles and more scurried by, paying little heed to the threat we posed as they scurried through the grass, close enough that I had to watch my step so as to not accidentally squash them. Pumpkin eyed them from my shoulder, tilting his head as he considered the potential pros and cons of an impromptu hunt
“Don’t do it,” I whispered. “We have plenty of food on hand, and even more back at the caravan. Don’t risk it all for a bit of bush meat.”
“Eh, alright then.”
Seeing the wisdom of my words, or perhaps just not feeling very hungry, Pumpkin pressed his head against the crook of my neck, laid his head down, and began to snore. I must admit to being rather envious of him, as sleep never came so easily to me, whereas he was able to knock himself out in seconds.
[Pumpkin the Cat stored.]
It was probably for the best, as I’d rather not get into a fight with Pumpkin hitching a ride on my shoulder; I was fairly good with a knife, especially after getting my Proficiency, but it was still unwise to tempt fate like that. Granted, I wasn’t expecting one at the moment, since the return of the wildlife was most likely a sign of safety; they’d been absent before, which made a lot more sense now that we knew there was a pack of wolves still on the prowl. The archer in front of me stopped abruptly, pulling me out of my thoughts as well as bringing me to an equally sudden halt, lest I bump into him from behind.
“What’s wrong?” Harvey asked, coming to a stop beside me as well.
The Archer didn’t answer, merely continuing to stare straight ahead, a vacant, gormless look in his eyes. Following his gaze, my own eyes narrowed as I saw three horses come into the picture. They were much like the six we recovered earlier, brown, large and busy eating grass. A good sign, certainly, since they were what we came for, but also a strange sign, because the Archer should have been familiar with horses, and certainly wouldn’t freeze up upon seeing a few. The hairs on the back of my neck rose; there was something wrong here, I realised.
That realisation, and my heightened caution likely saved my life, as the Archer spun around, his bow tossed to the side as he pulled a hidden knife from his sleeve and took a swing at me. I threw myself back, falling to the floor with a painful thump, as my lower back protested. It was for a good cause though, as it caused the aforementioned swing to pass over my head rather than open up my neck, so I had no regrets, even as it left me out of position for a counter strike.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
[Padlock withdrawn.]
For a counter strike with my knife, at least, as my arms simply weren’t long enough to make it count. The palm sized padlock I stole during my night of theft, on the other hand, had no such restrictions, as I duly made full use of my newfound Proficiency with throwing weapons to nail him in the family jewels. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with the Archer, but despite whatever had possessed him, a nut shot from solid steel couldn’t be ignored. He doubled over, clutching at his gonads and giving me precious seconds to get off the floor.
[Knife withdrawn.]
Now upright, it was simplicity itself to pull my own weapon, and unlike his earlier attempt, my swing of the knife didn’t miss the neck. A severed head flew past me; notably not belonging to my own opponent, who was very much dead with his neck sliced open, but not all the way through to produce such an effect. Turning around, I found Harvey with his own weapon drawn, and two more dead Archers next to him, one missing his head and the other cut in half at the waistline. They’d both gotten rather close for people allegedly watching the perimeter, which only deepened my confusion at what just happened.
“More charms,” Harvey spat, fixing the last Archer standing with a gimlet stare.
Said Archer seemed to have possession of his faculties however, as he stowed his bow over his shoulder and put both hands up in the air, in the universal gesture of surrender. Seeing as Harvey had the situation under control, I chanced a look back ahead, and now, I saw no horses. Three piles of powder, only vaguely recognisable as bone dust littered the ground up ahead, while a shimmering butterfly hovered overhead, a wing pressed over its face as it appeared to giggle at our misfortune.
[Mirage Butterfly - Level 3]
Slightly annoyed by the attempt on my life, I picked up the padlock and chucked it at the creature. I wasn’t sure if it would do anything, but cold iron was often considered a weapon against the fae back on Earth, and it wasn’t as though I had any better idea. It might even have worked, if the butterfly didn’t know how to dodge. As it was, I could only watch as it fluttered away, still giggling all the while as it vanished over the horizon.
“Leave it be,” Harvey sighed, kneeling down beside one of the two men he’d slain. “Illusionist monsters are opportunists by nature; now that it’s fed, and we’re wise to its tricks, it won’t be back any time soon.”
I nodded, happy enough to hear that, given the mounting losses our caravan had suffered. I was about to offer my help with the funeral rites, however reluctant, when Harvey touched a hand to each of the men, just once, and made an unfamiliar, clenched hand sign. All three bodies burst into flames, eating everything down to the bone in seconds, until nothing remained.
“Are you sure you’re a Thief?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.”
“I’m a part-timer,” Harvey joked in reply, without elaborating any further.
Oddly enough, I had the distinct feeling that he was telling the truth.