Interim Growth

Stats

+30 points to Strength.

+20 points to Intelligence.

+20 points to Wisdom.

+40 points to Dexterity.

+50 points to Agility

+60 points to Endurance.

Skills

Skinning has advanced to Rank B

Detection Magic has advanced to Rank B

Teaching has advanced to Rank B

Hefted over his shoulder, he carried the corpse into the clearing that became their new camp not long ago. Heavy, it must have weighed more than a war horse in full kit, easily enough to crush a normal man to death several times over.

Alden plopped it down a ways from the campfire, then produced a knife from his inventory and began his work.

Holding the furred corpse in a single hand, he used the other to work the knife just beneath the skin. Razor sharp, it sliced through easily, separating the fur neatly from the deep red flesh underneath, and in no time at all he was finished. Standing, Alden held the fur before him, arms outstretched, and grimaced.

Bear Pelt

Quality: A

Price: 600 impera.

“A decent pelt, Sir,” Uhtric said reassuringly. “Don’t you think so, Gosfrid?”

“Aye,” came Gosfrid’s reply. The archer’s back was turned to them both, his hands busying themselves with a quiver of arrows. He had not so much as looked Alden’s way.

“It’s not the quality that bothers me,” Alden said. The pelt was decent work, he had to admit. Above acceptable even. None of the pelts he had seen at market compared, nor did any fetch such a high price.

“It’s the killin’, innit?” Caldwell asked. He winced slightly as Alden looked at him, and Alden realized he was staring too intently. He could not help himself. Since days before a gray thread had sprouted from Caldwell, a thread that slowly slipped its way through nearly everyone in the camp, before finally resting with Alden. And each day it grew thicker and thicker, and now was near as thick as a spear shaft.

Alden shrugged. “Something like that.”

Killing the bear had been necessary. The beast had lumbered upon Alden and a handful of others just after breakfast, during a hunt for what would be that day’s lunch; a giant creature, it was muscle and teeth and claws that stood twelve feet tall on its hind legs, and not an ounce of mercy existed in its mind. Roaring loud enough to wake the dead, it charged down at them from atop a short hill. It would have killed the men with him, had he not intervened.

He tackled the beast head on, grappling it in an attempt to subdue it, only to be twisted around in its great paws and pushed face down into the dirt. It bit into the meat of his shoulder, tearing a painful chunk from him then biting down once more to do the same again.

With a roar of his own, Alden rose up from the ground, pushing the bear off of him. It tumbled over and over, then uprighted itself and sprung forward once more.

But Alden was the faster of the two. Wrapping his arms around the bear’s neck he forced still, his muscles bulging and straining so much they threatened to break through his skin as they fought against the beast’s desire for freedom. Tightening his grip, he bided his time as the beast thrashed about, then, when the moment presented itself, twisted and broke its neck.

“I did as I had to,” Alden said.

Uhtric was not convinced. “Didn’t have to grapple with the fucker. Could have used magic. Quick blast through the head, over in an instant. I’ve seen you do it.”

A possibility, Alden thought, but…

“There’s no risk in it,” he said. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“That so?” Uhtric asked. “And there was risk fighting it by hand? Truly?”

The question stung him. No, he thought, there was no risk at all.

His wounds had been superficial, and even had they not been it wouldn’t have mattered. With healing magic his wounds disappeared without a trace and leaving no scar, as if they never happened to begin with. And the bear, whilst strong, was slow. It never stood a chance.

“You’ve killed humans before,” Gosfrid said, having turned from his spot to now face them. In his hands were his arrows, each finely fletched and ready to soar.

“I have,” Alden replied. He already knew where their talk would go, and he did not like it.

“Won’t eat meat, don’t like killin’ animals, but killin’ people’s fine by you? That how it is?”

“It’s not like that. I don’t like taking life, any life, especially unnecessarily.”

“But if it is necessary, they die. And then you mope about it for a few days, and after that it’s all forgotten, like it never even happened. Can’t seem to pick a side, if you ask me.”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Alden did not reply. Life was not some sacred thing to him, that taking it was an unredeemable sin. Death was as much a part of the natural order as life was. But to be the one to end life, to bring death, was a feeling he greatly disliked. In the moment, at least. He never dwelled on a killing for long. He couldn’t, he told himself time and again. There was always more important work to be done.

Before the conversation could continue, he tossed the pelt and the corpse into his inventory, then made his way to the river north of their camp. The river’s water weaved through rocks large and small, the water itself as clear as glass, so clear that he could easily see the sediment at the river’s floor.

Dipping a hand into the coolness of the river, Alden could not help but give into temptation. The day was hot, and his blood was still boiling from the fight.

He stripped down to near nude, saved only by a thin strip of undergarments that did not fit as well as they once did, then eased himself into the refreshing water.

Footsteps interrupted his leisure after some time, and when he turned he saw the figures of Caldwell and Aerin. Sheepishly, they approached and halted by the river’s edge, waiting.

“What is it?” Alden asked. He walked out of the cool, refreshing waters into the warm sunlight, planting himself on a large, flat rock. Still in his undergarments, the two did not look at him directly.

“I have a question. About the siege,” Caldwell said. “I don’t know why Aerin’s here.”

“Out with it, then.”

Caldwell scratched at his face, searching for words. “How do you plan to take the city?”

Alden shrugged. “With force, I imagine.”

“They’ll have ten thousand men at least,” Caldwell protested. “Not to mention Gods know how many knights and mages.”

Alden shrugged again. “Then I shall use a lot of force.”

“How do you plan to get past their magic barriers?”

“With my own magic. With enough power they’ll break.”

“What of their walls? Do you even know how tall they are? How thick?”

Alden shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If their walls are short enough I will climb over them. If they’re two hundred feet tall then I’ll tear them down with magic, and if they’re two hundred feet thick as well then I’ll pick one or the other and keep at it until I’m on the other side. The walls can only slow me down, they cannot stop me.”

“And you can do this? Break their barriers, break their walls, and fend off an entire army, all by yourself, without even knowing what’s there?”

He shrugged again. He knew he could. The gray rope that sprouted from Caldwell was not the only thread Alden saw. Ever since enhancing his Wisdom he saw dozens of threads, perhaps hundreds, a tanglework of colors coming from every direction. And in the direction of Grensfield was a thread of purple and a thread of gold, each as thick as a finger.

Alden stood, hovering over Caldwell. “You don’t think I can do it,” he said, looking down.

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“Then allow me to prove you wrong,” he said, smirking. The boy did not seem appeased. “There’s nothing to fear,” Alden continued. “You’ve seen some of what I’m capable of, but there’s more to the story. More than I dare speak of. Just know that what I was capable of a month ago is merely a fraction of what I can accomplish now. The city will fall, that is certain.”

“But can you take the city without taking life?” Caldwell asked.

Alden paused, thought. ‘Maybe’ was the only answer that came to mind. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Does killing bother you, or does it not, sir? You take life as readily as the rest of us, but you and you alone mope about afterwards. Even then, it only bothers you for a short time, until the faces of those you’ve killed are forgotten. Then you’re right as rain, and ready to take the next life.”

“What of it? My feelings on the matter are my own concern, not yours. I’ll damn well mope if I want to, and I’ll damn well kill if that’s what I decide.”

Caldwell shook his head. “You just don’t get it.”

He clenched his hands, then opened them. He was done with whatever this farce was. “I don’t get it? What, then, is it? Explain it already, else leave me in peace.”

“Do you expect us to follow you?” Caldwell asked.

“What?”

“Do you expect us to follow you?” he repeated. “We were assigned to you, true, but we’ve failed in our mission, and by all rights should be making our way back to Commander Dhatri. Yet we stray off towards enemy lands, planning a siege, all by our lonesome. That’s not the way things ought to go, but we’ve followed anyway, despite the fact that if we fail this we’ll be called deserters or worse. Because of you. That won’t continue for long. Not with you as you are now. Too many died in Coalben, and the rest of us are having a hard time following you when it might mean our death.”

Caldwell quieted a moment, suddenly saddened. “I talked with them, you know. Before you found us. Some of them were planning on leaving, when they could. Uhtric talked them down. So did I. But they’re angry, Gods damn you. Good men died in Coalben. My fault, I know. It was my idea. You can’t be blamed for their deaths, and none of them do blame you. But seeing you mope about death, in the middle of a war no less…it’s not good for morale, is all I’m saying. Hard to follow a leader who isn’t fully certain in his own actions.”

“Don’t follow, then,” Alden said. “I do not need you to take the city. I’ve said as much before.”

“But you want us there. You want us to come with you, to keep you company, to witness you in action and congratulate you when all is said and done. Above it all, what you want is to lead us.”

Alden pursed his lips but said nothing. Caldwell was right. He couldn’t even try to deny it. He wanted to be a leader. Wanted to take on all the responsibility so that, at the end of the day, he reaped all the rewards for a job well done, and took all the blame if things went poorly.

“If you want us to follow you,” Caldwell continued, “then you need to be a man worth following. And a man who mopes about after killing something or someone, after doing nothing to not kill…well, I for one won’t follow that kind of man. Same’s true for a lot of us. All of us, maybe.”

Exhaling deeply, Alden relaxed his fists. “Fine. No more killing.”

Caldwell nodded, accepting the answer. “I’ll pass it along.”

“And her?” Alden asked, pointing to the patiently waiting Aerin.

“Don’t know. Followed of her own accord, but she doesn’t talk. Not to me, at least.”

“I’ll handle it, then.”

When Caldwell was gone, and Alden was dry enough to clothe himself once more, he sat across from Aerin, who had planted herself on the softest looking rock since she had arrived.

“What is it?” he asked. The two looked at one another for a time in silence. When he could take it no longer, he said “This is about your brother.”

She nodded, then made a motion with her hand that meant ‘sort of’.

He took her meaning. “You got stronger suddenly. Him, too. A big surge of power that let you do things you couldn’t even imagine doing before.”

Aerin nodded.

He knew it was coming. This topic was long past due, yet despite the time given him, Alden did not know what to say. The truth? Impossible. Who would believe him, that he was foreign to this world, plucked from another life and tossed to this one with grand powers he still didn’t fully comprehend? No, he decided, the full truth wouldn’t do.

A half truth might.

“It was my doing,” he admitted. “One of my strange abilities. I don’t quite understand if fully just yet, but I can strengthen those who follow me, when the conditions are right. And on that day the conditions were right. Other than that, I cannot say.”

Aerin stared at him from behind the black cloth that covered her face, her features hidden. A question lingered between them, unspoken and yet easily heard.

Can you bring my brother back to life?

No, he wanted to say, but didn’t. And when it was clear that he would say no more, Aerin left him, and in the lonely silence Alden wondered how one took a city without bloodshed.