I had slept by the fire on some furs Kril had given me. I woke up before him and stretched quietly. I hadn’t felt any fear of being vulnerable in the night. Kril and I had talked for a while after his interrogation about my dream or vision or whatever it was. He was a true follower of Aresk, a worldly man among his people and would be a valuable ally in the days to come. I felt a strange kinship with him. He was a different breed to the rest of his tribe, as I had been to my own back on Earth. Perhaps the mark also made me more open to Aresk’s followers? Did it work both ways and tie me to the god's people while it made them more likely to trust me? I did not like the idea of being robbed of my freewill.

My head still throbbed faintly and my shoulders continued to ache but I quietly set a fire and lit it with a cast of summon fire. I kept the fire small and set up a wooden tripod over it. A clay bowl dangled over the tips of the flames that I carefully filled with water from a barrel just outside the tent.

Gedrik farted noisily and twitched in his sleep under the wagon behind Kril’s tent where he slept in a pile of rancid looking furs. I went back inside and tipped the water carefully into the suspended pot to heat through. I went quietly over to the shelves and began to assess their contents.

Vials filled with viscous liquids meant nothing to me, I opened a few to sniff them but stopped as the acrid odour from one seemed to burn my nose. Poking at the clay pots with various powders and seeds in them revealed nothing of interest beyond demonstrating Kril’s penchant for herbalism. I left my bear’s teeth alone and picked up one of the books. It was a leather wrapped tome, written on crude, thick paper. It seemed so out of place in this barbarian village. Papyrus or hide scrolls I would have been able to understand and a few of those were scattered on the shelves as well but this was paper, or at least a crude precursor of true paper. It had obviously been read many times judging from the smudges and small tears on many of the pages as I flipped through it.

The writing was alien but I was happy to find it was an alphabet of some sort. If it had been hieroglyphs or ideograms like some eastern scripts on Earth I would have faced an insurmountable barrier to becoming literate in this world. Going back to the beginning I carefully turned a few of the brittle pages and scanned through them properly, hoping I’d get a notification saying “language blah unlocked” but I wasn’t that lucky. With a sigh I put it back and turned to find gimlet eyes staring at me from where Kril was sitting on his bed.

“Not your native tongue?” he asked, getting up to examine the boiling water.

“No. I don’t recognise the letters.”

“I can help with that. They're pictures of sounds. Once you understand the sounds for the picture you understand the writing.”

“I know how an alphabet works,” I laughed. It was the first time I’d laughed since… I couldn’t remember when I’d last laughed. Kril gave his signature cackle in reply.

“So you aren’t a humourless construct! That’s written in Crathan. The language of the archipelago. They’re a weird bunch,” he muttered. He passed me and took a clay pot off the shelves and went to sprinkle some of the contents into the almost boiling water. “You should add the Ched in before it starts to bubble, it helps the flavour come through.”

“What is Ched?” I asked. He pointed at the pot and I moved to carefully sniff the contents. It smelled like black tea to me.

“Do you need to let it steep afterwards?” I asked.

“Of course.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “As soon as it roils you take it off the heat and let it rest for ten minutes. After it’s poured it has to sit for five more so that the leaves settle. You can drink the leaves but it makes the whole process unpleasant. Watch the water.”

He left me by the fire and stuck his head out the door flap.

“GEDRIK! You’re on household duties today! I’m taking my new slave herb gathering!” he bellowed. The boy was about six feet away and the volume was completely unnecessary.

“Yes, master,” came a groggy response from under the wagon.

“Are you fit to travel?” Kril asked, taking over monitoring the pot as he returned to the fire.

“How far?” I asked.

“Should have asked how long!” Kril chuckled. “All day. We’ll leave after we eat and be back at sundown. You’ll have to carry my baggage. We have to keep up appearances for the peasants. Apologies.”

I flexed and stretched again, just enough to gauge my range of movement and to catch any lingering aches. My shoulders were still sore and my head throbbed if I moved too quickly but otherwise I was feeling a lot better.

“I can manage that.”

After a delicious cup of Ched which I found was indeed similar to black teas from Earth, we ate a brief meal of dried meat. I filled a pair of waterskins, recognising them as the ones I had paid Souls for in the Shop, from the barrel by the tent. Kril gave me a pair of large canvas sacks, thankfully empty for now, that I hung from each shoulder with a slight wince. He gave me two walking staves that came up to my chest and we made our way to the palisade, skirting around the centre of the camp that was still quiet, none of the bustle and chatter having begun quite yet but the first stirrings of the camp wouldn’t be far off.

“Dreamer,” said one of the watchmen politely while shooting an angry look at me.

“I need a pony. I’ll take that one!” His voice was back to androgynous, wheezy and high pitched again. Kril pointed at the last horse on the line, a sorry looking beast in need of a good brush and probably a few bags of oats. The guard bowed his head in respect and fetched the horse for Kril. The other guard spent the time walking slowly around me, eyeing me like a diseased animal.

“Dreamer, shouldn’t you take an escort in case you have to drag that filth back? I’d be happy to volunteer,” guard number two asked.

“This slave is no threat to me. He knows full well what you men will do should we not return by sundown, don’t you slave?” I nodded. I was really starting to hate this society.

“I would prefer-” guard number one began but Kril cut him off as he took the reins.

“Oh shut up Jytik,” Kril muttered as he mounted. I eyed the guard. This was the slinger who had damn near killed me? He must have sensed something as he flicked his head my way.

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“What are you staring at, slave? Bow your head in my presence!” he barked. I glowered but slowly nodded my head, not breaking eye contact with the man.

“Come along, slave,” said Kril blandly as he trotted his pony between us. I turned and followed, using the body of the pony to break eye contact with the guard without backing down. It was petty but this slinger was almost at the top of my immediate shit list. I owed him one hell of a headache at the bare minimum.

Once the encampment was considerably behind us Kril kicked his heels into the horse and took off at a canter. I sighed and picked up my pace. My long strides quickly ate up the lead he had gained and I ended up pacing the horse comfortably. My head was pulsing at the exertion but I wasn’t going to be left behind by the only person who could ensure my safety in town.

“You shouldn’t be able to do this,” Kril called as he urged the horse into a gallop and increased his speed. I sped up matching him for a minute or so before slowing down and falling behind. He pulled on the reins and brought the horse back so he was facing me. As he brought it to a stop he let the reins fall and slid off.

“Have a drink,” he instructed, voice back to normal, as he began looking around in the undergrowth nearby. I took a long gulp from a waterskin and held it out to him. He glanced up and shook his head, turning back to sorting through various grasses and shrubs.

“Not possible. When Aresk gave you the mark, what did he say?” Kril asked absently.

I opened my mouth to say that he had called me foolish and told me I was unharmed but my voice wouldn't work. My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, Kril glanced at me and snickered.

“A geas of silence. Are they really playing these games again?” he muttered without looking up. He began picking clumps of grass and sorting them. “Bag these up, boy.” I was told and I obeyed, slowly filling the sacks I’d brought with us. Once we were halfway through loading the second sack, having scoured an ever widening area of plants seemingly selected at random, Kril stood back up and glared at me.

“You can fight?” he asked. I nodded. “Killed some men I reckon?” Another nod. “Good. Let’s see what you can do against an old man like me, hmm?” He picked up the staves I’d dragged along and tossed one to me. Each staff had one end crudely rounded to resemble a blunt speartip.

“Well boy, let’s see it,” he said, assuming a fighting stance, staff held loosely in his forehand and tightly in his left by the base.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea. Should I just do some stances and forms?” I asked. I didn’t want to hurt the old goat.

“Pah. You’re from the east? They have all that fancy shit. There’s some sense in it but you can’t get a feel for someone by watching them dance about like a woman.” He lunged, driving the blunt tip towards my stomach. I reacted without thought, batting the spear to one side and swinging a leg up. My shin stopped an inch from his balls. He looked down and grunted.

“Thanks for pulling that.” He sat down cross legged and laid the staff across his knees then gestured for me to sit as well.

“Too strong, too fast,” he muttered, then his eyes almost glowed as I failed to hide my reaction to that particular choice of words. “Not the first time you’ve heard that. Graben?” He read the answer in my face and nodded. “You know he was a bastard?”

“Graben?” I asked, surprised at the change of subject.

“Yes. The name, boy!” he snapped.

“His name didn’t start with Haku?”

“Not completely tapped in the head then. Yes boy. Graben was Hakubin’s favourite child that he shouldn’t have had. There are other bastards in the camp. Hakubin likes to put it around and he isn't the only one. Being King has its rewards and his arms men take a poor view of people criticising him for womanising so he gets away with it more than is decent.”

“Understandable, a man like him lives or dies by his reputation,” I replied.

“The little shit who pelted you with aurox dung. Can you guess his name?”

“Does it start with Haku?”

“Hakudan. His mother, who styles herself ‘queen’ like some shit-sitter, is one of your biggest fans in the village, believe it or not. Graben was popular with the men since he was small and Hakudan is at best tolerated. When Graben came back from Koryolis he was going to be trained to lead the warband.” Kril shrugged and reached for the waterskin. After a pause to drink he glared at me. “How did you start the fire?”

Shit. If he saw me light the fire with a thought, and based on that bloody phrase of Graben’s he’d repeated… I figured I was rumbled.

“I have a few tricks.” It wasn’t a lie. Magic was handy as a surprise but I could only cast five fireballs then I needed a ten hour break before I could do it again. The heal spell was more useful but again; it didn’t make me unstoppable.

“Tricks. Did you bury the Koryolis? Burn them?” he asked.

“Graben and his friends? No. I cremated my friend that they killed.” The word friend felt right for Wilson, despite our short acquaintance.

“You weren’t alone? There was another like you?” he asked, sharp eyes locked on my face.

“A wolf I befriended while I was at the cave. There weren’t any other people with me there.”

“But you didn’t come here alone. How many of you came?” he asked sharply. The man was too smart for his own good. “I’m not a threat to you. I can probably be of more help than you realise, Shikrakyn.”

“Do you know what it means? Shikrakyn?” I asked.

“I know you're not of this world and that others came through at the same time. How many?” he repeated.

“Five more.”

“Did Aresk tell you how to find them?” I did my goldfish impression again. I was pissed about this geas, whatever it was.

“Kind of then. How strong are you?”

“Much stronger than I was before, back home,” I replied with a shrug.

“You were fit, on the other side?” I nodded.

“What did you do? Within your tribe I mean.” he asked, eyes still boring into me.

“I killed people.” I sounded almost sad when I said it but I relaxed as he simply nodded and smiled slightly. It felt strange that my murderous past didn’t even raise an eyebrow among these people.

“A good pick for my God.” He nodded decisively. “You are beyond what a human should be capable of. Perhaps you might stand a chance.”

“I assume the others all have the same… tricks as me. One of them is a soldier, a warrior who fights as part of a team,” I clarified.

“I know the difference, boy. Crathan militia troops are not to be underestimated in formation. They’re pussies one on one though. How do you get stronger? With your tricks I mean.” he asked.

“Ah, I have to kill. How do you know about this?”

“An honest answer.. I’m a wise old man who’s travelled the world and spent a lot of time in the greatest libraries in existence. Kill only men?” he said quietly.

“No. Anything. Aurox, bears, wolves, rabbits, as far as I can tell anything with a spark of intelligence.” I explained about the traps I had set up to farm Souls from rabbits and mice.

“So the larger the beast the more Souls? And Vilis - Vile - variants yield even more?” he asked when I’d finished.

“Vilis… Vile. Fucks sake I should have worked that out. Yes, Viles gave more Souls.”

He smiled wickedly at me and rose to his feet.

“I swear to serve Aresk’s Champion for the rest of my days.” His voice was solemn and I felt a brief touch of Aresk’s aura, feeling like Kril was one of the men in the phalanx next to me, locking me in place. “How long until you’re back in condition?” Kril asked as he walked back to his pony that was still happily cropping grass to one side. I shrugged as I picked up his bags of plants.

“A few more days for the aches and pains to fade? Why?”

“I’ve got some things you can kill. Big things!” he chuckled. He kept the pace slow as we made our way back to the village for which I was grateful.