Liam slept like a baby despite the rocking carriage. Blissfully unaware of Blackwood’s raging hate that whipped every single horse and rider within Blackwood Castle and sent four hundred men after him. With his lightning wounds his body was too damaged to stay conscious for long, especially considering the mnemonic chaos boiling within his skull. Two lifetimes were mingling themselves, battling to remain the dominant id, leaving Liam to suffer migraines along the road home. Throughout it all, Nyota made it bearable, whenever he woke, she would be there, cradling his head with her soft thighs as she gently stroked his hair. Singing a tender lullaby.

“Close your eyes, my little one,

Underneath the storms and clouds.

Dream of places, full of fun,

Know you’re loved by everyone.”

He groaned, feeling like he had drunk an entire bottle of whiskey the night before, and forgotten to eat anything with it. Nyota’s soothing presence eased his discomfort and for that he was grateful; but the maid’s sudden change in demeanor niggled at the back of his mind. He had kidnapped her, yet here she was caring for him.

Why be so compassionate? Blackwood is an asshole… Maybe she thinks I will protect her from now on.

It was a rational assumption, one that was critically flawed in ways Liam could not yet fathom, but it was enough justification for him to accept. Nyota’s attentiveness increased as they journeyed. Though the carriage had little for a maid to do, she found methods to make herself useful, preparing small meals for him and Arlet. They were little more than hard bread and dry cheese, but to the wounded baron and his captain they were precious gifts.

Since Arlet refused to stop the carriage for any reason, driving the horses through the night and into the next day. Only stopping to exchange the horses with spares he had hitched to the carriage’s rear. Their pace concerned Liam, but Arlet’s half-understood reasoning for traveling through the dark was beyond Liam’s fuzzy intellect. In a moment of clarity he remembered Arlet saying—

“If Taloc favors us, the man you killed won’t have been found until the shift changed, once his body is discovered the castle would be sealed and a headcount would begin. However,” Arlet was careful to hang on his last word, “Only a fool would count anyone before you and I. Even the son of Nepo ought to be competent enough to think of that before counting maids.”

Liam sorted through his mental fog, contrasting Baron Green’s understanding of this world with Arlet’s suppositions. Not that it was a difficult puzzle, in truth it was closer to a tic-tac-toe than calculus. Soon after they had fled, be it minutes or hours, Green’s absence would be discovered, then mounted cavalrymen would be dispatched to retrieve him, violently. Viscount Blackwood held the banners of a dozen Barons, and the seemingly excessive army would be given a purpose, providing more than enough lusty manpower to hunt him down.

Nyota’s collar could also be tracked by a dark affinity mage, meaning the enemy knew which road he had taken, assuming Blackwood wasn’t a complete idiot and kept such a mage on retainer. Add that factor into the equation and their prospects looked grim. With a three hour head start —the best possible circumstance— it would take Blackwood’s fastest outriders seven or eight hours to catch up. Arlet could easily best four or five of the lightly armored outriders or gilded hussars, but twenty or more and there wouldn’t be a fight—

—And Greenwood, safety, was three days away.

Driving through the night was their only other hope, since it created opportunities for misfortune, circumstances where one rider might fall in the dark and be injured, weakening the individual warbands or better yet, breaking them into smaller groups, with some heading back to the castle and others pressing forward. It made Liam sick to hope for injury to others, but what else could he do? This was not a kind world, families starved every winter, without exception, nobles lived comfortable lives until they were betrayed by the king or their peers.

Pacifism was not an option, Liam’s death, no, Baron Green’s death would spell the end of Arlet and Nyota. That couldn’t happen. Green had ordered many deaths, had even taken a life in his younger days, a memory Liam recalled vividly. Green had slept with a commoner, and the woman’s husband had found them together, resulting in Green stabbing them both to death. As a noble he had escaped judgment, since there were none to accuse him.

That was the status-quo in this land. This borrowed body did not deserve to live, and it would kill to maintain that ideal.

I shouldn’t have to kill anyone, Captain Arlet is a champion, a blessed soul who is the greatest of ten thousand warriors. Not a bureaucratic captain. Ah, how did a pig like Green earn his respect?

For the first time since entering this world, Green’s memories retreated, retreating from their conscious mind to a dark recess. Is Arlet special to Green? You’ll show me you murdering a couple for your own lust but not the source of Arlet’s loyalty? Exhaling loudly, Liam let it go, survival came first.

He leaned back, resting his head on a sack of potatoes and drifted away, dreaming of Arlet. The champion was always there, had always been by his side, just as Arlet’s father had protected the previous Baron Green, hundreds of duels flashed before his eyes. Testimony of Arlet’s abilities, and of his devotion.

Nyota moved with purpose, her hands deftly adjusting the sacks of potatoes around Liam, and tucking him into a starchy cocoon. Her touch calmed his racing heart, making the journey bearable despite the lumpy nature of their vehicle.

Liam had done nothing to deserve this, female servants normally scattered when he entered a room. Maybe Blackwood was onto something with felinid maids…

Another wave of memories bore down, plunging him into an abyss of sleep and darkness. Hours or days slipped away for him. Waking from his fitful sleep as the eye of the storm passed over him. A brief lul in the maelstrom of Green’s memories.

Nyota was always there, checking his blankets, or feeding him small morsels to sustain him. Never allowing him to go hungry or cold. He watched her from beneath half-closed lids, marveling at how she seemed to anticipate his needs.

She sang melodies as she toiled, occasionally singing fairy tales and snippets of legends. A history of this other world that was so familiar to Baron Green and so foreign to Liam. The disparate memories jockeyed for supremacy within the confines of his mind. Throughout it all, her benevolence and empathy shone brighter than ever, providing him solace.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

In a realm where thunderstorms clashed,

A lightning mage, harnessing bolts and flash.

With magic untamed, he conquered the gods,

a mortal ascended, defying all odds.

A God-King crowned, but his glory did wane,

for humans betrayed Perun with deceit and disdain,

The humans who honored him, with words so sweet,

In their hearts, secrets they chose to keep.

Lightning mage, with a throne so high,

His rule weighed heavy on every sigh,

For the humans, they whispered, a dangerous deceit,

In a kingdom divided, where darkness did meet.

They enslaved their allies, turned hearts to stone,

In their thirst for power, they stood alone.

The lightning's brilliance began to dim,

In the shadow of betrayal, a world so grim.

But the son of the King, with a noble heart,

Felt the pain and anger, knew where to start.

To free their allies, break the chains with spark,

He'd restore the balance, bring back the dark.

With Champions and sage, he'd stand up tall,

For in his veins, the lightning would call.

To end the suffering, the darkness he'd defy,

With a thunderous roar, she'd paint the sky.

In the darkest hour, the storm would rise,

The lightning mage's son, with healing in his eyes.

To mend the world torn by deceit and greed,

Young mage, with hope in his heart,

He'll bridge the divides, though the path is dark,

In a world scarred by betrayal and strife,

He'll bring forth a change, to unite every life.

Hmmm, her songs are strange, more like poems really. Maybe that is the oral tradition of this world? Actually, that makes sense, Homer’s Odyssey was written with epithets and a meter to help poets keep the story consistent, if you missed a beat then you missed a line. Ultimately that heritage led to Shakespeare’s Iambic pentameter… I think, at least that’s what was on the test in my Ancient Greek literature class. Weird how some things stick around in your brain, thought Liam.

Nyota’s songs seem to quiet my mind, I don’t get hit by any of Green’s memories when she sings either. So very strange, did he never hear this oral tradition? That seems unlikely, he was a degenerate but an educated one, any poem important enough to be remembered should have been performed in front of him at least once…

Liam drifted off to sleep once more, poetry wandering through his dreams. When he awoke once more he found it was early morning, the dawn sun casting its first rays across the world, and a low mist hanging over the road. Green’s memories had finally settled within his brain, freeing his mind of the migraines that had troubled him since his death. Peaceful bliss. Liam opened the front window, really he slid aside a chonky wood block so he could speak directly to Arlet.

“Morning Captain, did anything happen while I was asleep?” Liam asked.

“Did anything happen?! Lord Green, how could you sleep through that riot?” Exclaimed Arlet.

“Ahem, I'm sorry that my duel with a lightning bolt has inconvenienced you.” Said Liam, meaning it as a sarcastic quip.

Arlet nearly fell off the wagon, spluttering as he mistook the jest for a subtle condemnation.

“Bah! M’lord forgive me! Tis not what I- uh, your health is my my greatest priority, I would have dueled, that lightning—”

Liam’s laughter interrupted Arlet, preventing him from saying even more foolish words.

“Dueled the lightning? Very impressive, tell me more,” Liam winked, making beads of sweat appear on Arlet’s brow, “About last night and the road ahead.”

“Yes sir! We are another day and a half out, you can thank Blackwood’s finest clydesdales for our speed. Tis a shame we had to avoid Mont St Michel, there were torches on the road ahead so I pulled off and let them pass us by. They were Blackwood’s outriders alright, and they have the city surrounded. We would have been discovered if not for that bear… thing…” Arlet paused, trying to find the words.

“Twas like a bear, standing on its hind legs while it sundered man from mount. It was too dark to be certain, but the way it moved, I think the beast was hunting the cavalry. Killed two horses and dragged them into the woods. Did you really not hear anything at all m’lord?”

Liam swallowed, joining Arlet in the growing crowd of concerned citizens. “Not a peep. Truth be told, I slept like a baby, my injuries must have drained me completely.”

A minute of silence passed between them, both men’s duty growing in their minds. Cavalry hunting bears were not something either of them had ever imagined, but they knew such a creature would need to be killed. It was harvest season in Greenwood, farmers would be reaping the final crops before winter, preserving everything they could to avoid starvation during the snowy months. A futile exercise; every year Baron Green had sent Arlet to tally those who starved to death, and each year the tally grew. This wasn’t Europe, or the medieval era, this was a land where stealing bread earned the death penalty and people cheered for justice.

The look on Liam’s face ended further conversation, it was the face of death, of a ruler weighing who should live and who should die. Hours later the carriage came to a stop.

“We’ll stop here for a few hours, the horses must rest.” Arlet explained as he untied the trailing horses and led them to the nearby stream.

Surveying their surroundings, Liam could not help but smile. Densely packed thickets surrounded them on every side, with a cart path running alongside a clear brook. Cart path? Back home that would be a bike trail! How in the world did Arlet drive a carriage through there? A closer examination exposed the method, Arlet had simply gritted his teeth and taken hits from the overhanging trees. His armor largely protected him, but his face and arms were covered in sappy cuts and welts.

They ate in silence, Arlet resting while he could. Meanwhile Nyota watered the horses and rearranged the carriage’s supplies to give them more room, somehow producing real blankets and proper pillows for the group to savor. All sundries bore an embroidered emblem of Blackwood’s house, leaving Liam to wonder exactly where and how Arlet had procured them. Probably best if I don’t ask, swiping Blackwood’s bed sheets only adds insult to injury…

Tonight became now, and the party set off once more, horses maintaining a casual trot as they returned to the proper road. To aid their unavoidable collision with Blackwood’s riders, Liam joined Arlet on the driver’s bench, propping himself up with a pair of purloined spears. They were infinitely less comfortable to a modern aluminum crutch, but he made do.

Around midnight, Nyota’s ears detected something in the distance. Swiveling to aim forward long before Liam heard anything. He watched her closely, mentally noting how her spine shifted subtly and her normally slender tail fluffed with apprehension, swaying too and fro with anxious jerks.

“Are you alright?” Asked Liam, concern writ large on his face.

“I hear howling. Similar to wolves... Deeper…” Her ears flicked and her voice trailed off. Too busy listening to finish her thought.

“I can’t hear anything at all. They must be a long way off. Let us hope they find easy prey in the woods and do not linger on our path.” Said Liam, reassuring no one besides himself.

Great, as if getting hunted by men wasn’t enough, we have bears and wolves, what’s next? Lions and tigers? On the other hand… It would be cool if Nyota could put in a good word with those cats… Actually, does that make any sense at all? Can felinids talk to actual cats or am I just being a raging speciest?

“Let us hope so m’lord.” Answered Nyota, humoring him.