The sudden acceleration caught the two by surprise. The once easy-going ghost tumbling across the back and launching him over the side. His past-life reflexes took hold as his hand instinctively grabbed the side. Ryland held onto that wooden material with a full death grip, each of his muscles bulging with power as he pumped mana into his body. It was necessary as a simple bump would turn him into a skipping stone once again.. Pulling hard, he reached out and anchored in a second hand. Holding tight, his lightweight body flapped in the winds like a waving flag.

“OH GOD MAKE IT STOP” Ryland screamed out, his pool of energy rapidly burning from the effort.

It wasn’t so much that he was worried about being left behind, he’d already been dragged for miles before. But it was such a terrible experience and one he’d not like to experience a second time. But time was working against him. Finally his thoughts settled onto a simple plan. Closing his eyes, he focused on that feeling of ethereality. Shifting the power from his fingers, the ghastly appendages sank into the wood. Satisfied with the depth, he quickly reactivated his skill and solidified them once more. Just like that, Ryland had bound himself to the wood. While he still needed to pump mana into his fingers, the rate drastically decreased from before. One problem solved, now to deal with the attack.

Glancing around, he tried to survey the situation. Screams and shouts echoed in the dark forest, various critters fleeing their burrows from the commotion. Torches and other lamps cast deep, flickering shadows against the large trunks. It was a full raid as the bandits leapt out from the woods to stop the rampaging cart. Arrows rained down and dug deep into the wooden sides. Strangely, the cargo seemed protected from the driver’s skills. Various munitions harmlessly bouncing off the containers via an unseen force. At least his body was safe for now, it would be to have a living pin-cushion. For now, Ryland was stuck and could only hope that the two up front had some sort of plan.

Steve felt his neck crack as the rapid acceleration slammed his head back. His skull smashed into the headboard with a hard THUNK. A pounding headache scrambled his thoughts while his vision filled with flashing stars. Blood rushed into his nasal passages as the impact reverberated throughout the bone. He’d need to see a healer after this to check for any brain damage. After a few moments, the stars faded and he attempted to stabilize himself. Twisting his head forward, Steve felt the intense g-forces press into his body. What the hell was this driver? Even still they were accelerating far beyond any normal horse. The winds transformed into a vicious, scything mess. His skin forced back into deep wrinkles, tears rolling down his cheeks, and lips parting revealing his pearly whites. Even breathing was an ordeal, each breath short as the ribs pressed into his lungs. It all happened so fast and the world turned into a blur as they sped onwards.

“Aruaghg” horrific gags and spittle flew out of his mouth from a bug smashing into his throat.

“KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! YOU JUST SPIT ON ME!” Ryland cried out.

But Steve didn’t care, he was too focused on the road before him. Rapidly blinking, he cleared the tears from his eyes and prayed to every deity known to man. (but not Deas that bastard). At these speeds, each bump launched him into the air. Butterflies filled his stomach as gravity lessened, his ass leaving the seat briefly before slamming back down. There was no way this rugged cart could keep up like this. It was a basic, wooden contraption that seemed to crack and groan on every impact. Skills were one thing, but physics was another. Each wheel was training against the axles and he swore they started to smoke. Shifting his eyes, he glanced at the older driver.

“WOOOOOO. FEELS GOOD TO GO ALL OUT” The drive was standing, reins in hand. His voice was loud and powerful as he chained various skills together.

The man was crazy and what level was he? Whoever that assistant booked was far beyond a backwoods level. Why did Steve keep running into these powerful people? Unfortunately, those skills seemed to protect him and his cargo. As the arrows rained down, they curved around the driver before smashing into the wood beside him.

“Holy!” An arrow clipped his cheek before shattering a piece of the headboard.

Steve needed to move, forcing blood to his muscles. He crawled along the seat and ducked behind the driver. He wasn’t cargo, but he’d use that man as a meatshield. Thankfully, they reached the top speed and Steve regained a bit of control. Peaking out, he watched as a group of bandits tried to form a barricade in the road. Swords were drawn and boxes were stacked, but the cart didn’t stop. Only a few seconds later, the driver smashed into the group without a care in the world

“HAH ANOTHER TO ADD TO THE TALLEY! DON’T MESS WITH ROADIE BOYS OR YOU’LL END UP ROADKILL!” He adjusted his path to run down any that tried to flee.

“TWO POINTS!” He cheered with a sadistic glee.

While Roadie was enjoying himself, Steve was struggling to stay in the cart. That first impact sent him flying high, his body tumbling over the headboard and crashing into the cargo behind. Scrambling to his knees, another crash had him rolling towards the edge. He didn’t even notice Ryland screaming as he fought the cart. Grabbing the cargo, he pulled himself forward. Thank the gods for his skills, they didn’t move an inch.

“RUN RUN” Steve braced for impact, his fingers digging into the wood till they bled.

Once more he was launched skyward, but this time he was prepared. Holding tight, he slammed back down onto his stomach. He choked down some air as the wind was knocked from his lungs, but he couldn’t stop. If he fell off that cart, he was beyond dead. He swore that he’d come back to haunt this man for eternity. Pushing the muscles to the limits, Steve pulled himself forward and back over the headrest. He rolled onto his back as he worked off the exhaustion.

“SAY HI TO DEAS FOR ME”

Steve lurched forward and smacked into the front boards.

“HEY DON’T BREAK MY CART OR I’M CHARGING DOUBLE!” He heard the driver yell.

Honestly, at this rate he might as well jump over the side. If this kept up, he’d be dead from the various bruises. Pulling himself back up, Steve glanced over the side. The ambush had turned into a full-scale retreat as the bandits fled the rampaging man. Roadie alongside his horses were stained from blood. Bits of bandit flesh sticking to the fur as they were torn apart from the impacts. A man screamed as the cart made impact, the force turning the bandit into a bloody mist. Chunks of meat smashed into Steve while the whipping winds spread the various guts along the skin.

“Oh god, I’m gonna throw up” Steve mumbled

It was one thing to dissect a body, it was another to be splattered with the warm flesh.

“NOT IN THE CART” Roadie yelled

Steve turned to the side and hurled. Between the massacre, the motion sickness, and exhaustion it was far too much.

“DAMMIT STEVE GET YOURSELF TOGETHER” He heard Ryland call out. The ghost disgusted as the puke passed through his flapping frame.

“LET IT OUT, I REMEMBER MY FIRST AMBUSH. THEY JUST GET…..OH FUU…” Roadie was too busy taunting Steve to see the leader up front.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Unlike the obstacles before, the group had felled a few trees and dragged them into the dusty path. With their massive trunks stacked a few feet high, it was quite impressive. A few lingering were adding to the mass of wood as Roadie charged forward. They clearly misjudged the speed of the cart and Roadie showed no signs of slowing. It wasn’t as if he could stop at this point anyway. Roadie did his best to swerve, but it was far too late. Pulling out his knife, he cut loose the horses allowing them to leap over the mess while his cart smashed into the barricade.

Roadie used every skill in his arsenal to lessen the impact. Yet, once again physics beat The Will. It was a deadly explosion of wood. Lumber splintering from the tremendous forces and radiating outward in all directions. The nearby bandits were skewered from the flying limbs while the two lackeys were crushed between the cart and trunks. Strangely, the cargo somehow was fine. Roadie’s skill kept them intact even as they turned into makeshift projectiles.

Roadie wasn’t as lucky, he was launched out of the cart and smashed into the ground with a sickening THUD. Steve had a bit more foresight and lept from the cart before impact. However at these speeds it was still extremely dangerous, his body kept its momentum and tumbled across the grass for nearly two dozen feet. As he skidded to a stop, he was afraid to move. His clothes were torn to shreds and blood leaked from hundreds of wounds. Little scrapes and gashes covered his skin and he could have sworn he had a fractured rib. Yet, he was alive. Strangely enough, he still felt closer to life now then when confronting that crazy priest. Taking a moment, he wiggled his toes and fingers–at least his spine was intact, working through the rest of his body he heard the leader screaming at his lackeys.

“27 men, TWENTY-FUCKING-SEVEN goodmen were killed!”

He was the most stereotyped bandit Steve had ever laid eyes on. Big, bulky, face-covered, and armed with various knives and daggers. His face red with rage as he berated his crew. The others could only cower as his voice rang in their ears. The man paused briefly to calm himself. What’s done is done and he’d worry about the consequences later.

“Boss man, we tried out best to stop him. How did we know he was…”

“SHUT…IT. I Taught each of you dodge roll, DODGE THE FUCKING CART NEXT TIME. I swear, if ANY of you try that shit again. I will PERSONALLY sent you to Deas with a custom greeting card.”

Honestly, Steve kind of agreed–minus the profanity of course. That was a sailors tongue and they were far from the water. Besides, it was stupid of them to try to stop a rampaging cart. What did they think was going to happen? Especially after seeing their friends splatter from before. If it was him, he’d have dipped out and dealt with the consequences later. At least he’d live another day. A few more shouts and the group began looking for the goods. They may have lost most of their men, but that just meant a larger split for the rest. Each tore open the various boxes and scoured the insides. Each hastily filled their own bags and pockets with merchandise. After reaching the main city, they could pawn it off to a decent fence.

As they looted the wreckage, Steve took a mental note on how many remained. Their leader was clearly in good spirits as he tallied the spoils. Surrounding him were four lackeys and one wounded. Honestly, for the size of their starting party, the driver did well. He’d be called a hero in most spots, but it would all be for naught if they died in the woods. If that man lived, Steve would be sure to drag his body to the next outpost. With care, he began to formulate a plan of escape, only to hear the clanking of chain and metal as one of the men approached.

Two options played through his brain. He could either ambush the man, get a clean kill, then try to escape in the woods. If he was fast enough, he might lose the rest in the escape. However, without the road to guide, he’d be lost in the forest. Besides, he had enough time in the woods already and wanted to get back to civilization. Not to mention, if any of those bandits had tracking skills it would be a pointless move. He’d be dead before morning. Realizing that was a bit stupid, he decided to play dead. Or well unconscious. It didn’t matter, he just needed to convince the bandit’s he wasn’t a threat. Holding his breath, he still his muscles, and hoped his ruse would work.

“Let’s see what ya got for me” the nasty breath of the thief washed over his face.

Steve wasn’t sure what was worse. Dealing with that halitosis or the grubby hands ruffling through his clothes. Each calloused finger leaving a trail of grimy sweat across his dainty skin. While he may have lived in the woods for a while, Skincare was the key to looking young. It only took a few seconds for the bandit to find his coin purse.

“Jackpot” The man stood up and began counting.

Steve took a short breath while the man was distracted. He could do this. Moments later, the thief was back at it. Not a single inch was left unscathed as he got a full body pat-down. Soon his hidden dagger was found and he felt the weight leave his body.

“Oi. This is some good work” The bandit held the dagger to the light and tracked the filigree with his eyes.

“Some sorta runework. Might keep this for myself” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others didn’t see him pocket the knife.

The man kicked Steve onto his stomach and kneeled onto his back. This wasn’t good, it was nearly impossible to hold his breath as the weight pressed into him.

“Come on, come on. Go back already” Steve wished in his mind.

But the thief took his time. He checked the back pockets and found nothing of interest. Adjusting his stance, he took a seat on the “dead” body and began to rummage through the satchel. Reaching inside, he felt for any treasures only to recoil in disgust. There was a wet, squishy sensation that sent chills up his arm. Pulling out his hand, he saw fresh blood coating his fingers.

“What the hell” He took his knife and slashed off the satchel. Opening it up, he glanced inside and froze.

“Boss! You might want to check this out!” He called out.

“Dammit” Steve cursed.

He found the meat pocket. It was a simple bag enchanted with a basic refrigeration spell. While not as strong as his original backpack, it did keep things cold, fresh, and filled with flesh. A great tool to grab interesting materials for future creations, but now it was giving away his class. One by one the bandit pulled out more pieces of zombie chow. Hacked off fingers with congealed blood oozing from the stub. Three ears of various species, one of which was partially chewed. One gooey eyeball with the nerve ending still connected to it. (Something zombies really loved as a gummy treat). He couldn’t even identify the rest, just bits and pieces of flesh piled together.

“Don’t care! We got loot to loot” The larger man called back..

“I get that boss…but this is some weird shit. Really think you should check it out” But his calls were ignored.

Damn this man and his language. What was with bandits and cursing. Speaking of curses, Steve was in the process of cursing this man’s left nut. His body was nearing the end of its air reserves and his lungs burned for clean oxygen. He could feel the slight tremors as the muscles begged for air. But he couldn’t give in, forcing back the spasms he cut out all thoughts and entered a state of meditation. Just a few more seconds and this would be all over.

“Whatever…” The man said as he gathered the remains and tossed them into the bag.

Once they gathered around the campfire, he’d show off the body parts. They’d take it to the local priest and see if it was tainted with necromancy. If so, they’d get a nice bag of gold for their troubles. The priests of Deas didn’t care what side of the law people were on. They wanted to stamp out any death magics and rewarded those who further their cause. He’d show them off later. If this guy was a real [Necromancer] they’d get a good bounty whether dead or alive. Gold flowed freely to those that furthered their cause. Satisfied with his goods, he stood up and stretched a bit.

Once more Steve gasped for air. This was getting to be a bit much, he was regretting not killing the man and running. But he committed to the act and had to see it through.

“Hmm might need a piece of ya for evidence” The bandit said and pulled out his dagger.

Piece? What did he mean by that? Steve noticed the man reach out for his hand. He shifted between the fingers and held out the pinky. Raising the knife into the air, he went for a quick cut.

CRACK

He paused and turned.

“What the hell…”

Instantly, a high-pitched scream filled the air. The other survivors began to panic as their leader tried to restore order. The man abandoned Steve and rushed towards the commotion. Steve finally rolled onto his back and let off the biggest sigh of relief. He was so close to losing a finger or worse. His moment of respite was shattered as Ryland’s voice screamed out.

“YEAH GET HIS ASS”