Jack was glad he hadn't left the safe house. It had a spyglass mounted in the attic, with which he spotted the glinting armor, spears and swords of soldiers on the horizon.
There were at least three battalions, maybe four. The one on the front took position, slowly spreading thin around the forest. Jack realized that, if he didn’t take action soon, he would be trapped and slowly smoked out from the safety of the woods.
He had, just a few hours ago, found a hidden stash of health potions. He took a risk by consuming more than he was supposed to. So far, he felt fine. He had found some bread, and a magicompass.
The safe house reassured him slightly. He had discovered a bunker beneath the carpet downstairs. If he had no other option, he could hide there.
Stop it. Don't think like that. You’ve gotten this far, you can’t give up.
But he wasn't giving up. Not yet at least. He needed a plan, just like he always did.
Obviously he wasn't going to try and fight the brigade that approached. He would either have to go around, or he would have to sneak past.
He sighed and pulled the periscope back down. Turning around to face the hoards of materials behind him was a brand-new anvil, bronze chainmail links, several spears and swords, and finally, a…
Camouflage cloak.
He grabbed it off the wall and observed how it looked on him in a mirror nearby. The cloak used a passive spell to mask the presence of whoever wore it.
Jack carefully inspected it. Obviously, he wasn't fooled by it. He could almost clearly see himself, especially the more he looked.
He looked away, then looked back. Interestingly, the cloak seemed to work now. Also, he noticed that the effects of the cloak would weaken the longer you looked at it.
Jack averted his gaze and took one last glance this time.
He saw nothing in the mirror.
He let out a breath of surprise. But after a few moments, he began to see himself again.
The cloak also fit him perfectly.
Great, he thought, as he tossed it into the anvil. Let’s see what enchantments this thing has…
The properties revealed themselves after a moment of being on the anvil. Passive cloaking, Blade resistance II, Haste I, Frost Resistance II Heat susceptibility I…
He gritted his teeth when he saw the next one.
Water deactivation II.
It meant that the cloaking wouldn't work when he came into contact with water. To what degree, he did not know.
He checked the periscope one last time. It creaked as he swiveled left and right, searching for the locations of the oncoming troops. Two battalions forged a line. He noticed one of the battalions entering the forest.
Great, now I must be able to slip by them as well, he thought to himself. If the cloak were to work, he supposed, it would be most likely to work in the already dark forest.
He took another glance at the soldiers. Even if he could make it past the small army that stood between him and the nation of Keywark, he would have to keep his guard up for any summoned-for-hire’s sharper eye.
As he wrapped the cloak around his body again, and slipped his shovel onto his sticksnag, he couldn't help but think of how well Bel’s plan had worked. Whether or not her plans tactical ingenuity was that of her own or lucky gambit would never be known if he were to scrub it now.
He lowered himself from the ladder, he felt fresh from the healing of the potions. If Bel had been here she would have surely scolded him. The sound of his boots hitting the planks filled him with enough confidence to drive away any thoughts that would haunt his success.
His quiver was filled with real metal arrows and the nasty glass-tipped variant as well. He carried now, not the weapons of a hunter, but the weapons of a Summoned.
He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, then, he whipped out his flame blade. It ignited in a brilliant orange and yellow. He swore he could see the red of the sunset as well.
He smirked at his reflection, sheathing the knife once more. The sheath disappeared as well. He had indeed followed the advice of Hans, the knife was only barely visible to him. Just the thought of using it would reveal it to him. He brushed his cloak over.
The fog outside only decreased his visibility. The clanking of armor as they marched through the thicket. He laid crouched in a bush.
He saw a corporal bark orders. The soldiers fanned out.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
You will not find me. He thought to himself.
He marched past squads of soldiers, they carried spears and swords, polished to a gleam. They flashed even in the light of dawn.
He robbed them very easily. Stopping at a lantern every now and then to grab a bite from an unsuspecting guardsman. The bread and the chicken filled his stomach.
“Oi!”
He froze. Had he been spotted?
“Ay, ay! Look alive men, we have an intruder amongst us!”
Jack dropped his bread and headed to the trees.
Dammit, I've pushed my luck too far again! He thought. Arrows flew past him. A spear pulverized a stone near him. He stole a glance behind him.
He wished he hadn't.
An older man glared at him dead in the eyes. He wore several medals and decorations on his uniform. The pointed his bow dead at Jack. He narrowed his eyes as he aimed.
He finally released his grip on the arrow just as Jack turned his head.
Jack felt pain erupt as something tore through his shoulder blade.
Can't you bastards aim elsewhere? He thought. But he knew that it would be nothing short of a miracle to have such a powerful shot hit him only in a non-lethal area.
Such a powerful shot, yet such poor aim? Nonsense! Jack realized something right then and there: They were trying to capture him alive.
But why?
Jack pondered this as he sprinted through the woods.
Damn! Do these trees have no end?
The shovel moved on his back, making its position on the sticksnag extremely uncomfortable.
He stopped running momentarily to adjust it, and to take a sip of a bubbly green health potion. But as he slipped it back into his sachel, he noticed he was only inches away from death.
The ravine dropped to an unknown depth. Jack certainly would have died if he had taken a single step too far.
He heard whispering in his ears.
Enter… if you dare…
Not now, Jack thought. He had stumbled upon another dungeon.
He darted across the edge of the ravine. It closed like a zipper beneath his feet as he traversed.
A spear flew by his head. It pierced a tree trunk near him. A dead tree, it seemed. The rotted trunk crumbled from the hole. Crows flew away.
He stopped eventually. He was no longer in the forest.
Jack was surrounded by stumps and dead trees.
It was a Keywark lumber site. Furnaces and piles of coal, freshly cut logs too.
Jack zigzagged through the litter of branches and tree stumps, as Wyatt's voice rang in his mind.
Jack grimaced at the thought of the warrior. He kept having regrets, things he could have done differently. Wyatt was a man who, although appeared to be a low level swordsman, had a plethora of useful tips on the art of, not just swordfighting, but combat in general.
Jack couldn't help but wonder if Wyatt had been a teacher before the branch. He certainly gave the aura of a teacher, but there was no way of knowing it now.
I wonder how many students he had. Where are they now?
His thoughts were interrupted by a javelin splitting a rotted log next to him. He grunted, leaping over the log that could have been him. They were still on his tail.
Even worse, the dense fog was clearing up.
Suddenly, a blade sliced past him, narrowly missing his face.
He cursed. What the hell was that?!
Another blade, further away cut through the air.
Mills!
He dove at that moment, just in the nick of time too. A blade grazed his hair beneath the cloak's hood, cutting a slit through the top.
He skidded on his knees though the mud. An arrow ricocheted off of the massive fan behind him.
I just need to get out of their sight! Just for a moment
A river laid ahead of him. It crossed over a small stream. Normally, a river such a size wouldn't demand a bridge to cross it, but as Jack approached it, he saw why.
The first thing he noticed were the logs floating down the river. The second thing he noticed was that the river's current was incredibly fast. And the final thing he noticed was the giant blade at the end to the river that narrowed to a small exit.
Another arrow whistled by. It pierced the low fog now. Jack leaped over an ax that had been carelessly left with the blade pointed up.
Just as he was about to get to the bridge, the man came out of the fog an slammed his fist into Jack's face.
Jack rolled up. He swiped his foot under the man but he jumped over it and jabbed his spear forward. His medals jingled as he leaped.
He drew his new bow and rolled to the side, firing a shot at the soldier. The arrow ripped through his leg. He winced, but didn't fall. He picked up his spear and threw it.
It impaled Jack through the chest.
Pain shot through his body, as the spear penetrated his right chest, and burrowed itself into the log behind him.
His vision blurred around him. He looked down. The spear had indeed went through his body.
Upon seeing the spear, his vision began to blur. Shit, shit, shit! Not like this!
The man shouted something. Then he leaned down over the defeated Jack. Jack tried to ignore the pain, but his initial adrenaline effect was slowly fading away, transforming the brief sharp pain into a burning sensation. He tilted his head slightly. To his right, was his bag with the potions and other over-the-counter elixirs that he looted from the safehouse. There were of course, health potions, that is, if he could reach it…
The soldier followed his gaze to the bag. He immediately kicked it away, killing whatever plan he could have made.
He began to black out, as the soldier barked orders, seemingly distant, and far away. The last thing he saw before he went out was the man’s face, and a bag being thrown over his head.