This was the last scout and salvage Kodak had to do this season. He’d been riding Dice hard and himself harder. The clopping of Dice’s hooves on cobblestone road was soothing, but soon he would be resting in the field by his small house, eating warm stew. Going into the village proper for the weekend's bonfire and a beer. Rest, before the winter snow began to coat the surrounding hills.
It was his first season without his father. He hadn’t appreciated how much the stern but frail man did. How hard he’d pushed himself. He’d been in his fifties and in no state for riding, let alone salvage. Not that it ever stopped him.
Kodak smiled, his father had been a small frail man by the end, but in his mind he remembered a huge back, shoes so large they couldn’t be filled. A man who never complained about his work, who never stopped, never tired and never failed. He had been a hero to the village. Their only combat mage.
It was a big legacy. He would live up to it.
Dice slowed into an easy trot as they approached the treeline. This was the last bit of brush to inspect but it was also the busiest. The cobblestone was relatively new, put in fifteen years ago to reinforce the main road into the village, the only one that was more than a dirt path. It was also the densest woods, the most lively. If there were bandits or wolves this is where he’d find them.
His father had told him of other roads, things he’d seen in larger cities. Massive pools of what he called gravel that would be dumped into gaping paths that ran as deep as rivers. Kodak could believe in gravel, but his father also told stories of strange smooth gray slabs, things that were many carriages wide and seemed to have been just one piece but now had small twisting plants pushing through them, creating wild cracks in an impossible wonder.
Kodak laughed to himself, patting Dice on her well kept black mane. Dad always was a storyteller. He’d say ‘it doesn’t matter what's true, what matters is what you believe.’
A sharp snapping sound cracked out from ahead of them in the woods, interrupting the warm thoughts that had been running through his head. Dice stopped instantly, the routine familiar to her. She flicked her mane back and forth as if to say see how good I am? Before staying still and silent.
From here Kodak would go on foot, quietly. That sound had rung out like the snapping of bone. It was all too familiar to him now, he could place it anywhere. He didn’t know what was up ahead, but he’d be methodical, and he’d be prepared. Just like he’d been taught.
He dismounted carefully, lifting himself down to the ground slowly to muffle the sound of his boots. He patted Dice gently on her side twice before whispering,
“Good girl. Wait here.”
The gradual creep forward through the woods was painfully slow but not boring. The tension of the moment made it impossible to relax. He could feel every muscle tighten, as he considered each step. Careful to avoid anything that would make noise, whatever was ahead of him - predator or man, he wanted the advantage of surprise.
Finally a small clearing opened up in the trees, centered around the path. He saw the side of a medium size caravan. Good for four and not small, but unlikely to be a merchant either. Odd, who could this be?
The sound had gotten clearer now, he heard squelching and snapping and panting that was all unmistakable to him. Wolves. They were feasting on the far side of the vehicle, and he was pretty sure he knew what was on the menu.
Years ago when he’d first started his stomach would have turned, he would have rushed out to see if there was someone to save, to fight off the beasts. He knew better now.
He crept slowly around the edge of the clearing, careful not to move upwind of the wolves and not to make a sound until he was in position. As he saw the pack come into view he muttered under his breath:
“System mute.”
It was a habit his father had painstakingly passed onto him. The system notifications during a fight were distracting, or even enthralling at times and his magic demanded full attention. Every mistake had consequences, he’d seen that far too often.
“Directed pressurization.”
He gestured with his right hand to indicate the direction of the spell, and felt something build up in the air beside him, as if an unseen corridor filled the space.
He knew from experience that it would block him if he tried to move right, many young mages made that mistake with this spell element. Either walking into the invisible barrier and harming themselves, or worse damaging the spell piece… the mages who did that almost always died, caught in the rampaging madness of their own magic.
He had to work quickly now before the wolves noticed him and realized what he was doing.
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“Open the channel.”
The familiar smell began to spill out into the air. Almost sulfur, almost rot. It was a strange dangerous scent that felt heavy and filthy to him, clinging to everything with a cloying wrongness.
“Ignition.”
The world erupted into flames, they consumed the air, gobbling it up with a voracious appetite. The orange violence spread across the clearing, directed by his construct to leap toward the wolves while avoiding the wreckage of the vehicle at the side of the cobblestone road.
He smelled the burning of flesh and fur and heard the howl of an animal in pain. He narrowed his eyes, ‘good, now run you beasts.’ His hopes were answered as he heard skittering claws against stone, and when the flame in the air faded, he saw the backs of the pack as they fled, leaving behind the two scorched and smoking corpses he’d caught in his magic.
“Close the channel.”
He sighed in relief.
Wolf packs were deadly without a fire mage, it was one reason his father and the village elders had pushed him so hard to learn. Even with the risks. He winced, thinking of his fathers hoarse voice as he withered away. Thinking of his yellow fingers and black tongue, the way he weazed, and his breath caught, too short to ever satisfy. Not me, I won’t go that way. I was taught right, and I’m careful. I haven’t made his mistakes. He shook his head, driving the thoughts out.
Other forms of combat rarely broke wolf packs, rarely made them flee. Usually when one was wounded they would fight fiercely, the pack enraged by the loss.
Lucky after all, that I’m a fire mage then. Kodak began to whistle to himself, a smile spreading as he began his salvage, walking up the cobblestone road to approach the vehicle.
The horses, he assumed they used horses, had long left. One wheel had been badly splintered, it was hard to tell if that was what had first downed the carriage or if it was something else. The green paint and gold trim that adorned the wood looked expensive, but chipped. Expensive, but neglected.
In the doorway on the side of the vehicle he saw a man’s body. His gut torn open by the wolves, they had been in the process of a feed he was sure. His clothes looked fancy, more expensive than anything Kodak had seen in the village. Salvaging was a dirty job, he would strip the man down and take everything from him before the cremation. Still, the resources he found were important to the village and his fire magic meant that he was the only one who could do this job. At least until he taught someone else.
Struggling to derobe the body was always a painful process. He focused on cutting undamaged cloth off the body and searching for the coin purse. When he finally found it, It felt heavy, the weight of it and the sound of clinking coins was satisfying. A sly smile spread across Kodaks mouth, warm lines setting in next to his twinkling eyes.
After picking the man clean Kodak sighed, he hated this part. Or no, he had hated it. Now it was routine and that was somehow worse, he had done this so often it meant little to him, the unfeeling calmness of his stomach and heart felt like a strange void, a strange emptiness. Still, he would do it right.
“Bounded pressurization.”
He held his hands out over the body. This particular starting incantation was strange, it would only work up close and was difficult to cast on a living form, but was very useful when it could be used. It allowed the fire to consume what was inside it, it would burn incredibly briefly but more intensely.
“Open the channel.”
With the bounded field, there was no smell. Every bit of the strange scent was trapped within, it was comforting because it made it obvious when you made a mistake. His father had started him with these incantations to minimize risk.
“I commit this body to flame. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of transmission.”
“Ignition.”
The body disappeared in a bright orange flash, with flecks of blue flaring up within the stunning light.
“Close the channel.”
Kodak sighed, a pressure seemed to lift from his shoulders now that he felt truly alone in the clearing. He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, the lines of tension on his forehead smoothing out as he centered himself before opening the carriage door.
Poking his head in, he saw a huge swath of blankets and expensive cloth in a pile to one side, amidst a shockingly empty space. The bench to the right that the man must have been sitting on seemed to double as a chest so perhaps there would be valuables in there. Seeing no other people inside relieved Kodak of the last pressure that had been weighing on him, and he muttered:
“System unmute.”
The rolling notifications scrolled past his eyes in the corner of his vision.
Warning: combat engaged Wolf killed: exp granted Wolf killed: exp granted Wolf pack broken: exp granted calculating... calculating... Thank you for your patience! Exp gained: 732 Transmission requested Transmission approved Exp gained: 4110 Level Up!
Kodak’s eyes bulged, the transmission had been huge. Laying someone to rest granted a small portion of their exp but this was absurd. The man had clearly been incredibly high level. Unease crept into his heart and tension coiled around his spine. The small space of the carriage suddenly felt ominous and hostile, every shadow in the clearing outside loomed larger. Fuck! What killed him? And more importantly, is it still here?
He would search the caravan quickly before escaping. Very quickly. He picked up the bundle of cloth, hoping to rush back to Dice with some expensive materials.
He grabbed messy reams of silk and felt something in the cloth, something struggling slightly, pushing with almost no force. His heart started to pound ferociously, its pumping filling his ears with a chaotic thrum before his eyes were drawn to the corner of his vision.
Congratulations, acheivement unlocked: Lost, now found Congratulations, title earned: Surrogate
He unbundled the cloth ever so slightly to peek inside and a tiny human face stared back up at him, scrunched up in a noiseless cry. Sobbing without sound. Just a child, a human baby.