Chapter 1) A new world
The world tree stirs and empires fall – Ashkanian proverb
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I rolled to my side, drool hanging from the corner of my mouth and pooling on the cold stone floor below me. My head was ringing and I struggled to gather my thoughts into some semblance of awareness.
“By the Gods, Nathlan! You said you knew what you were doing this time.” A sharp voice called out, recrimination clear in the woman’s tone.
“She’s right son, ‘triple checked em I did’ I seem to recall you saying.” A second person chimed in, the gravelly voice taking on a high pitched mocking tone half way through before cutting back to the masculine brogue it held to begin with.
“I did! It worked perfectly, there’s nothing wrong with the ritual. Just let him wake up and have a little faith in me for once.” A third voice pleaded, clearly desperate for the approval of the other two.
“How can I have faith when you continue to cock up any task given to you?” voice number 1 demanded.
“That’s a little harsh Vera, he saved your ass back in Storm’s Harbour didn’t he?” The gruff voice of number 2 interjected, talking over the whiny reply of Nathlan with practiced ease. “Although I do have to admit, I’m having a hard time seeing this lad before us as a calamity scale threat. You sure Demetrius hasn’t messed up on the location again?”
The voices continued to swim in and out of focus for me, reverberating through my head before fading to the background as darkness claimed my thoughts once more.
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Sensation suddenly intruded onto the empty surface of my mind, jolting me awake like a hot cup of coffee splashed directly into my face. I screamed pathetically and flailed my arms in reflex before I could look about properly.
Three figures loomed above me, staring down with varied expressions, a mostly empty bucket of what I fervently hoped was water rolling on the floor near their feet.
One was a thickset woman, with forearms reminding me of nothing so much as a slightly smaller gorilla. Or a baker. It was bizarre to put them in the same sentence but I’d never met a baker who hadn’t looked like they could bend a steel pipe in one hand. Had I met many bakers?
I shook my head, vision blurring worryingly from the movement. It was safe to say my thoughts were running away from me, and so with a considerable effort of will, I stopped my wondering mind and focused on what was in front of me.
The woman – Vera I assumed – was standing with arms crossed and an expression somewhere between icy and frozen. I was not ashamed to say I was thoroughly intimidated by her, especially considering her dress. With a heavy leather jerkin, plated greaves, wrist guards and shoulder pauldrons, not to mention a solid looking helm, I was half convinced she’d win in a headbutting competition with one of those old dinosaurs famous for headbutting each other.
Hoping for a more friendly reception, I examined the other two. An older man, well into his 50s if the silver in his formally dark hair and beard were to be believed, flanked a spindly man with deep green robes.
The spindly man was waving his arms about in jerky, dramatic gestures and the older man appeared to be arguing with him. The sounds of their voices slowly drifted back into focus again and I could finally make out what was being said, if not understand the context.
“Enough Nathlan, we can see plain as day this is a mistake. Leave it with the magic for a minute and just fuckin’ look at him – he’s harmless.” The silver haired warrior – if his knives and spear were any indication at least – gestured towards my crumpled form as if to underline his point.
By this point I had rolled onto my back in my quest to get a solid look at my surroundings, but my body seemed determined to foil any attempt at movement. I flopped bonelessly over, but once my back hit the floor I lost all response from the neck down. I blinked up at the ceiling, noticing the extravagant stone-work and stained glass windows at the back of the building – likely a chapel based on my narrow view.
I flailed about in panic but my limbs wouldn’t respond. The helm of the heavily armoured woman appeared in my vision, as she spoke; “Now now fella, no need to be moving about just yet is there? We’re still worrying that you might just be an eldritch abomination summoned from beyond the realm of nightmares to destroy this mortal plane. Its making us a little twitchy, you understand?”
I forcefully stilled my limbs, remembering as I did that they weren’t moving anyway, and blinked up at the woman threatening my life. I took a deep breath and tried to speak but it came out in a desperate rush anyway.
“ahpleasedon’tkillme,I’mnoteldritchIdon’teatnightmaresoranythingIpromise!”
She removed her helm, unleashing a nest of dark hair. As she brushed a strand from her sticky forehead, she raised an eyebrow at my outburst, so I tried again.
“Sorry sorry, I’m just scared and I cant feel my legs and I don’t mean you any harm and I don’t know where I am. I can’t even move my arms!” Being honest it wasn’t all that much more cogent the second time around either. Third time lucky?
“Please help me” I said simply.
The woman’s face softened slightly at that, and I thought I saw the ghost of a smile. Or a frown, it was hard to tell with her appearing upside to my view after all. She disappeared and I heard footsteps recede, before a hushed conversation was held in a different language. A language I understood all the same, which was a weird coincidence because I only spoke the one language as far as I was aware.
This was all starting to take on a dream-like logic where everything just kept chugging along despite how little sense it made. After a short conversation where just as much was left unsaid as explicitly stated, but the idea of “just killing me and being done with it” was floated at least twice, the three figures walked back towards me.
“Stand up, lad” a voice said, presumably belonging to the grey-haired warrior.
I was about to retort that I couldn’t, I was unresponsive from the neck down, but as soon as the thought entered my mind I realised it was no longer true. I groaned as I folded myself off the floor, getting my unsteady feet beneath me and feeling my knees protest every single minute adjustment until I was standing at more or less my full height.
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“Who are you?” I asked at exactly the same moment that the warrior asked me the same question.
He chuckled and looked back at me deliberately. I nodded sheepishly and offered an olive branch. “Please don’t kill me, I’m not a threat.”
I could hear the smile in his voice when he asked “Is that how you greet everyone you meet?”
“Only the ones I overhear discussing whether they should kill me.” I replied evenly. There was a short silence after that before the man spoke up again.
“You could understand us, huh?” His two companions reacted in surprise at this pronouncement and I nodded in assent. The woman cut in at that point, demanding to know how I could speak ‘Ashkanian’.
I had no answer so I simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only ever been able to speak one language before now. This is all new to me.” That was an understatement but I was more in control of myself than when I first woke up, and I wasn’t planning on any more flailing or screaming if I could help it.
“You’ve never heard of the Ashkanian Empire and yet you speak their long dead language?” The grizzled man asked with a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.
I shrugged again and sighed. “Cards on the table, I’m scared, completely out of my depth and overwhelmed, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on or where I am and why you have fucking melee weapons, or how you can disable my entire body without saying anything or…”
I trailed off after a few seconds. “I can’t even think of all the things I don’t understand right now so just tell me what you want and I’ll do whatever I can to not be killed. Please.” I must’ve looked appropriately pitiful in that moment, because both the warriors relaxed their stances slightly, hands drifting away from the weapons they had started towards before my short plea.
The spindly robed one, Nathlan I think it was, raised his hand and started tapping the side of his head rapidly. He started muttering to himself, seamlessly switching between multiple new languages in the same sentence. I didn’t know how I could possibly understand what he was saying, let alone recognise the distinct languages he used, but understand him I did. He asked me a few simple questions, which I answered, and then he asked a final one. When I answered that one as well, his eyes widened.
My panic was starting to return at the innocuous questions and the outsized reaction to my answer at the end, before Nathlan turned and started speaking directly to the others. “He’s god-touched.”
“You’re sure? How?” the woman asked.
“He understands at least 7 distinct languages without issue based on his reactions. Speaks a few of them too with no accent but doesn’t pick up dialectical shifts at all. Scholar’s tongue that is, and if his words are to be believed, he’s never studied it.”
The imposing woman nodded along with him as he stated his reasoning. “Only way to get such a skill so quickly is a bestowal, and language comprehension’s a big one if its universal. Any way we can test its scale?”
“I’ve only got the 7 I’ve already used, but they aren’t common. Ashkanian is understandable, but the Mer-tongue? I’m betting he’s got all major languages in that skill, no exceptions.” Nathlan seemed confident in his assessment, nodding to himself at the end as he spoke, as if his physical agreement would make him any more convincing to somebody who wasn’t already convinced by his words alone.
The woman returned the nod before speaking again. “Well then, I’m thoroughly convinced. Jorge - it's your call this time, but I vote we take him back to Demetrius and see how this plays out.”
The grizzled man – Jorge it seemed – shook his head at that. “You know what’ll happen to him if we bring him back with us – there’s only three ways this ends, and my money’s on the first.” It wasn’t a question, and from his tone I could tell he didn’t like what he was saying. I doubted it involved inviting me to play with a litter of happy puppies for an hour before a spa day and dinner date.
Vera nodded her no doubt impressively thick skull at that as well before replying. “Its worth the risk. He’s weeks away anyway, so we don’t need to decide for certain yet. For now, are fyou happy taking up your crook once more?” She smirked as she said this last part, no doubt an inside joke between the two.
“Aye, best get to it then.” Jorge clapped his hands and looked back at me. “Nathlan says your God-Touched. Seeing as he’s one of the smartest lads this side of the North Wall, I’m inclined to trust him on that, so we’ll be treating you as if you’re God-Touched for now before we can get proper confirmation.”
It was a fine title – God-Touched – sounded snazzy and important and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it a little, but hearing the way Jorge was saying it, with that small twist of his mouth every time he uttered it as if chewing a particularly rancid portion of meat, was making me a bit concerned.
“If there’s one thing that all Gfftgerrrrrrrrrtod-Touched I know of have in common, and I won’t deny it’s a small sample, its that they all start out confused as all fuck.” He looked at my shocked expression with a grin.
“Aye lad, you’re not as unique as you might think, there have been others in the same ill-fitting shoes you now inhabit.” I glanced down at that, seeing my bare feet before looking up at him in confusion.
He coughed and continued. “It’s a metaphor. You…do understand what I’m saying right? This hasn’t all been wasted breath?”
“Errr yes I get what you mean now. Sorry, as I said, I’m very scared and very confused and its all a bit much right now you know?” I was repeating myself again but seriously, how was I supposed to keep my composure and follow a conversation right now? I didn’t know whether he was talking literally or figuratively when he talked about shoes and gods.
Glancing at his companions briefly, he squared his shoulders and valiantly continued his explanation. “As I was trying to say, and you have pointed out a few times yourself, you’re a bit lost. I’d like to try and answer all your questions but we’re on a bit of a time-limit right now, so you get the bare-bones and we’ll process it all later, alright?”
He nodded, as if answering his question on my behalf – so kind of him – and then continued on. “We were sent here to prevent a stupid wizard-“.
It was at this point that Nathlan jumped in, leaning forward to interrupt before backing away again apologetically after saying his piece upon seeing the glare shot his way. “Mage, he was a mage, not a wizard – there's big difference.”
“Right, either way, we were sent to stop a stupid mage from summoning a dangerous creature and dooming an entire domain. We got here in the nick of time, fought our way through the horrible dungeon and stopped the bad guy before he could complete his ritual. You then appeared out of thin air – restarting the ritual I might add – and then we spent a while searching the room for any details that could explain the situation. You started screaming when we tried to wake you up and here we are.”
Vera had started walking around the perimeter of the inside of the chapel at this point, staring at each door as she passed for a few moments before continuing on. Nathlan was pulling a small ring from the dead body in the centre of the room and holding it up to the light for inspection. Jorge moved his head to the side, catching my eye again and raising an eyebrow.
“You’re obviously not taking much of this in right now but the long and short of it is you’ll be coming with us till we reach Storm’s Harbour and see what Demetrius has to say about you. I’ll try and keep you alive, but I need you to do as I say alright?”.
He waited for me to acknowledge him, so I nodded dumbly. He didn’t say anything further so after a few seconds I shrugged and spoke up.
“Sounds great, count me in. What shall I do, just follow behind you or…?”
“Well to start with, get some clothes on.” He said, pressing a bundle of cloth and a pair of boots into my arms with a grin. “Lucky this mage was well-stocked aye?”
I quickly pulled on the surprisingly well-fitted trousers and cloth shirt, before donning the heavy cloak and supple leather boots. I then found a pair of rough-spun thick socks in an inner pocket of the cloak and had to take the boots of again to pop the socks on first.
Feeling instantly a bit more confident and a lot more comfortable, I stumbled over to join the others who were gathered around an iron-banded door recessed behind the alter of the chapel.
Jorge turned at my approach and spoke in a friendly manner. “Looking much better, good work. I know it might seem like a good time to check your status but i’m gonna need you to focus and…fuck I lost him. How many times am I going to make the same mistake?”
I completely missed everything he said after ‘check your status’. The instant I wondered what status he was talking about, a flood of information appeared in my mind. The persistent ringing in my head ceased suddenly, and I realised it had not been a concussion but rather the various alerts I had been unable to view for not realising they existed.
System integration beginning.