The bed creaked as Darian rolled over. His whole body hurt, but his head and leg were the worst. The last thing he wanted to do was get up, but he figured night must have fallen if he was awake.
Gorm had shoved him into the room right as the sun rose. It came as quite a shock to Fria, who was surprised to see them back so early. Darian told her what had happened to Carver as Harper helped bandage the group’s wounds. She never said anything, just kept nodding. Darian had fallen asleep before the entire battle with the necromancer could be recounted. But Gorm or Jorg probably filled her in. He grunted, his eyes slowly opening.
There came a thumping on the floor as he rolled his good leg off the bed.
“Well, look at you,” he said, grinning.
Zan’s tail bounded up and down, the wolf raising his head as Darian pressed his foot to the cool floor. He was still too injured to walk properly, but Darian grabbed the walking staff by his bed and limped over to his four-legged friend.
He scratched him between the ears before he settled down on his bed. Surprisingly, Fria was gone. Her bed sat in the opposite corner, but the archer was nowhere to be found. With her wounds, he didn’t figure she’d be able to move. Speaking of wounds…
Darian worked his toes, the giant hole in his calf tugging at what muscle remained. Lifting his bandage, he was relieved to find some of the flesh and muscle had already begun growing back. While his passive regeneration had healed other injuries, he wasn’t sure something that severe could be healed. Still, it would probably be days until he could walk normally.
“But I’m alive.”
The battle played out in his mind. It had been short, but decisive. Though they’d also been lucky. Their opponent wasn’t in her right mind, and she’d even sent her most powerful undead to chase Oliver. But they probably still would have won in the end. Though with more casualties.
His thoughts turned to Carver. The boy had come despite his own weakness, and his arrows had proved useful during the battle. But a nagging guilt tugged at Darian. Perhaps Jorg was right, and the boy should have stayed behind. But without him, Darian didn’t know if he’d still be alive.
Carver was the first human Darian encountered in the new world, and he would endeavor to carry on his memory.
A mechanical beeping went off in Darian’s ear, a small screen appearing to remind him he had an unspent class point. Defeating Victoria had given him enough class XP to nearly level up twice. He was about to open his class menu when the door creaked open.
“Figured you’d be up,” Fria said, limping into the room, her hands gripped around a thick walking staff. “You always rise as soon as the sun falls.”
“Surprised you can walk,” Darian said. Her broken foot was tightly bound in bandages with two lengths of wood on either side operating as splints.
She closed the door behind her. “Jorg used his healing magic on me. That should knock a couple weeks off my natural recovery. Plus,” she grunted, settling into a chair beside Darian’s bed. “Some goblin healers have arrived from their village. They’re using their spells on the wounded from the battle, but the chief has ordered them to see to our wounds as well.”
“Positive energy hurts me,” Darian said. “I leveled up my race during the battle and it appeared as a new trait. Guess that means I’ll have to wait until my regeneration does the work.”
“Guess so,” she said.
A quiet moment passed between them, then Darian leaned forward. “Where are the others?”
“Jorg left a few hours ago,” Fria answered. “Said he had to return to Ulsfel and inform the Justicars there of the necromancer’s defeat.”
“He took an arrow to the leg.”
“I know. But he healed me, then limped his way north. He didn’t look well. Emotionally, I mean. I think Carver’s death got to him.”
“And what about you? I know you weren’t best friends, but he was from your village.”
Fria fidgeted with her hands. “I hated him, a little bit. For running.” She looked toward the door, old memories passing before her eyes. “As soon as he realized we’d been ambushed, Carver bolted. The fact he lived while the others died…it didn’t sit right with me.” She straightened her back. “But it sounds like he died well, in the end.”
“Died well,” Darian mumbled. “Is there such a thing?”
“Not sure. My father used to talk about it with his old adventuring buddies. Said it was a dream to have a good death. Guess that dream didn’t come true for him.” Her eyes met Darian’s. “The warg, Gershank…he lives, doesn’t he?”
Darian nodded. “Did Gorm tell you about the battle?”
“He did.” She smiled, but there was no joy in it. “I suppose some part of me should be thankful he helped. By the way Gorm tells it, he wasn’t sure you’d reach the necromancer before she roasted you. That warg saved you, even if he did it by accident. But Gershank killed my father.” Her hands balled into fists, her knuckles whitening. “And I will see that warg dead.” She stretched out her leg, her broken foot thunking as she laid it on the floor. “But that will have to wait.”
The door opened, Gorm entering. He was wearing a thick coat of fur, his ruined eye already covered by a cloth eyepatch. Harper slipped in behind him, the woman moving with some of her previous grace.
“How’s the leg?” Gorm asked.
“Better.” Darian rotated his foot, then winced. “But it’s going to be awhile until I can go anywhere.”
“Winter is near,” Harper said. “You have maybe a few weeks before the snows arrive. I suggest you be gone by then.”
“Still leaving tomorrow?” Fria asked.
“You’re leaving?” Darian sat up. “Already?”
“The artifact.” Gorm said. “It’s gone.”
Darian had almost forgotten that Harper’s team had come for an item and not the necromancer’s head.
“It’s probably buried.” Darian shook his head. All of that, just for them to go home empty-handed.
“The artifact was not with her,” Harper said.
“And how do you know that?”
“I just do.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Oliver, you saw him flee, yes?”
“I did. He ran soon after we arrived.”
“And there were no bodies in the tunnel,” Gorm said, shifting on his heels, his mouth drawing into a frown as he remembered their flight from the undead. “We think he stole the artifact, and we’re going after him.”
“When the sun rises, we will be off.” Harper relaxed as she spoke, then she smiled, genuine warmth in it. “But we both wanted to thank you. Even if we didn’t retrieve the artifact, we would have died without your assistance.”
Then, much to Darian and Fria’s shock, Harper bowed.
“And I wished to present you with this.” Harper reached into her coat pocket and produced a gold coin. “Show this to any member of The Society, and they’ll know you’re a friend.”
Darian took the coin and turned it, inspecting it in the dim candlelight. It looked like an ordinary coin, the kind he had seen in over a dozen video games. But there sat at its center a tiny purple gem, one that was warm to the touch.
“That thing is rare,” Gorm said. “Could always sell it if you need to.”
The half-orc grunted as Harper elbowed him in the gut. “Trust me, with the kind of trouble you’re sure to get into, you will need it.”
“And know you will always be welcome in Vizzera,” Gorm said. “The Society can be a handful, but they take care of their own. You ever want a job, come check out the office in Rend and tell them I sent you. They’ll help you out.”
“I might do that.” Darian relaxed. “But to be honest, I’m not sure what happens from here.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
With the necromancer dead, he was free to do as he pleased. With his race level increased, even a beast like Gershank would have trouble killing him. There was no one to stop him now. But all he knew for certain was that he looked forward to leaving this forest behind. There was a whole world out there for him to see, and that prospect sent a jolt of excitement through his heart.
“Whatever you do, know you have made friends of The Society,” Harper said. “I will make sure they know you are a trusted ally.”
Gorm pulled a chair over from the corner, grunting and scratching at his eyepatch as he sat down. “Been a wild last few days.”
“Indeed.” Harper dusted the cobwebs off a nearby stool and sat beside Gorm. “But we deserve a respite, and I believe the chief mentioned something about wine.”
“He did,” Gorm grinned. “I’ll go see if I can’t find it.”
As Gorm left the room, Fria frowned. “Should we really be drinking? I know the necromancer is defeated, but still…”
“You must learn to enjoy moments like these, despite their bitterness,” Harper said. “For they are rare.”
People had died, it was true. But the necromancer would have killed many more if she hadn’t been stopped. Though it felt odd to celebrate, it was better than wallowing in misery. But Darian felt rather cold about it all. He wasn’t sure if it was his race changing from lesser vampire to vampire, but his emotions were muted. Sorrow and regret still stung him, but not as deeply as it would have only days ago. For now, he decided to put his emotions out of his mind.
They sat and chatted about mundane topics until Gorm returned, two bottles of wine and glasses in hand.
Harper took one of the bottles and inspected it, her brow upturned in surprise. “How did the little green ones manage to procure such a fine specimen?”
“Apparently some rich lord used to rule here. He had a rather fond love for the stuff. Chief told me there’s wine cellars scattered all over the place.”
Gorm filled the dirty glasses one by one, Darian’s nose filling with the strong earthy scent of the wine. When he was handed his share, he stared into the dark liquid.
“Something wrong?” Fria asked, sipping.
“I’ve never…” He almost didn’t want to say it. “Drank before.”
“Truly?” Gorm asked.
“I’ve refrained from asking, but you really must tell me where you are from,” Harper said, gulping down her glass with her pinky turned up.
“Maybe someday,” Darian said. I wonder if I can even get drunk in this body?
Would you like to temporarily disable the trait [Poison Immunity]?
Sure. Darian flicked his wrist and a strange tingle spread out from his stomach. Then he took a sip of wine.
“Gah!” he nearly spat it out. “This is terrible!”
Harper laughed, Fria snickered, and Gorm frowned.
“It tastes better the more you drink,” Fria said, doing her best to hold back her laughter.
“I’ll take your cup if you don’t want it. More for me.” Gorm reached for Darian’s glass, but he pulled it away.
He raised the cup back to his lips, his nose twitching. How am I even smelling this when I don’t breathe? He sipped again, frowning. Does my perception increase my sense of taste? Harper kept grinning at him, and so he took the biggest swig he could.
“My my, getting brave now, are we?” she said.
“Want to have a little competition?” Gorm asked. “See which one of us can drink the most?”
“Very brave, challenging the man who just said this was his first drink,” Fria said, tilting her glass at the half-orc. “But I want in.”
“And I will be but a neutral observer.” Harper scooted back, the wood stool groaning. “One glass is enough for me.”
Darian’s face felt warm, like someone was pressing a heated blanket to it. “I’ll take you both on,” he said, taking another swig. Fria was right, it does taste better the more you drink.
***
“And then his head just…exploded!”
Darian and Fria laughed, Harper shaking her head as Gorm continued his story.
“Ah, I’m dry,” Fria said, her cheeks bright red. “Can our fair lady scrounge us up some more?”
Harper clicked her tongue. “That is the third bottle. And as the bartenders in Vizzera often once said to me, ‘you’ve had enough’.”
“Weren’t we having a competition?” Darian asked. His head was fuzzy, but he thought he remembered something they were supposed to be fighting over.
Gorm shrugged, then he gripped his stomach. “I think…I may need a break.”
Harper clapped the orc on the back. “And I think it’s time we head to our little hut on the other side of town. We have an early morning.”
Gorm shook his head, then groaned. “Fine.”
Something about the way the big man stumbled for the door made Fria burst into laughter. Darian found himself smiling, a pang of loneliness hitting him as Harper opened the door.
“It has been a grand time,” Harper said.
“I thought you were a heartless wench,” Fria said. “But maybe you’re alright.”
Harper smiled. “I will endeavor to continue being ‘alright’.” Then she bowed.
“And you,” Gorm said, pointing at Darian, his legs wobbling. “Don’t forget to keep training. Remember to use feints.” He raised his fists and threw two sloppy punches, Harper gripping him by the arm once his little display was finished.
Then the two of them stood in the doorway, the darkness outside full of croaking frogs and the thrum of mosquitoes.
“Goodbye,” Darian said, finishing off his wine. “And may we meet again.”
“May we meet again,” the two said in unison.
Then they stepped through the door.
***
Blood Squire Lv. 2
* Dexterity: +3
* Perception: +5
* Arcane: +4
* Skills: [Crimson Daggers]
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Crimson Daggers
Uses: 5 (Daily)
Range: 20 Feet
Damage: 15 + (1/4th) Arcane modification
* This skill creates three floating daggers made from blood. The Daggers will float around the skill user’s head until fired. You must fire the daggers at a target before using the skill a second time.
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Darian swiped the screen away. He’d been on the fence about putting points into Blood Squire or Necromancer. His divine skill gave him stronger undead summons, and the trait he gained after defeated Victoria [Summoner’s Gift] made all his summoned creatures have a massive amount of extra HP. But Blood Squire unlocked the advanced unique class [Blood Knight] after five levels, and it intrigued him.
He inspected the Divine Essence he received next, still not sure if he should use it now or wait.
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Divine Essence
Divine Essence has three possible uses:
* Instantly advance your Divine Skill Rank by one.
* Dismiss a living or dead companion from your party.
* Set your class level back to zero and refund all class points spent.
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Touching the third option expanded its effects.
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Setting your class back to level zero will refund all class points spent, but will keep all advanced classes you have unlocked available. Note that attribute gain from class levels will remain, and you will not gain attribute points from reassigning your refunded class levels.
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That meant he could put the early points he put into Mage into something like Necromancer or Blood Squire if he wanted to. But he figured it was better to wait a bit, since he could unlock more advanced classes in the meantime.
Maybe I should have started leveling Necromancer in that case. It does unlock a few advanced classes. Instantly raising his Divine Rank was another appealing option. But he decided to leave the decision for later.
Today was finally the day he would be leaving the forest.
He tested his foot, grinning when he was able to put his full weight on it. Then he pushed the door open.
“Ready?” Fria asked, poking her campfire with a stick, Zan sitting beside her.
“I think so.”
They had stayed in the goblin town for nearly three weeks. In that time, the goblin priestesses had continued to heal Fria and Zan. Because of that, it ended up being Darian who slowed everything down. Since positive energy hurt him now, he had to wait until his regeneration fixed him up.
But the three of them weren’t quite fully healed. Zan still walked with a limp, and Fria winced each time she put too much weight on her bad foot. But they were good enough to travel, and so they set out the previous night, stopping at the hunting cabin for the night.
“You really think we can reach your village by morning? I thought it was further away.”
“We should get close, at least. And I know a few caves we can stay in if we can’t quite make it, so don’t worry.”
“More caves,” Darian smiled as he turned, the night full of chirping insects and rustling leaves.
He was going to Fria’s village, then was heading south. Fria told him of a road he could take to reach Vizzera. He would be safer there, and it didn’t hurt that Harper and Gorm could be there.
There was an odd tugging at his heart as he realized he was leaving this place behind. In the time he’d spent here, so much had happened. Trials and failures, friends and enemies, life and death. But he was strong now, he could tell. No one would be able to control him now, and even if other Aspirants came for his life, he would ensure they would be the ones to fall.
“Well,” Darian said. “Guess we should be going.”
Fria stomped out the fire, Zan’s tail wagging as she gave him a pat on the back. “You ready to finally see the world?”
Darian smiled, the future stretching out before him. “I am.”
Together, they left the forest behind, Darian’s cave, the fort, and all that had happened fading into memory.