Talk?

Blood pounded in Ted’s ears, but he nodded. “Sure,” he said, pretending his entire being wasn’t twisting in knots.

Cara looked to Ted and paused. He gave her a nod. It didn’t sound like it was going to be a fun conversation, but if Gramok wanted to kill him, Ted was pretty sure he’d have just done it already.

She headed out, leaving the two of them alone.

For a while Gramok stared at Ted, his face scrunched up. What was going on with him?

Eventually, he spoke up. “Normally, I wouldn’t say anything, and you did save my life. Still, if we’re going to be traveling together, it has to be said.”

Huh? This didn’t sound like it was about him being a Hero.

“You need to learn to fight.”

Ted blinked. “I… know how to fight.” I’ve killed people. “I saved your sorry ass, remember?”

Gramok nodded. “You did. But we were several blows deep into the action before you even moved. And you’ve got that telltale hesitation, every time you hit someone or get hit.”

Anger and guilt twisted and knotted together in Ted’s chest. “I did the best I could.”

“Yeah, yeah you did. And you did well—for a novice. No doubt the wood elves did a good job teaching you to hunt, but battle is something else entirely. Watching your notifications will get you—or, worse, me or Cara—killed.”

Did he watch his notifications in battle? Ted cast his mind back. The information was useful. Maybe he did pay too much attention it.

“It’s not something to feel bad about. You clearly weren’t raised for this.”

The memory of Cara fighting off the orc thugs clawed at Ted’s mind. It could easily have gone so, so much worse. “No. You’re right. I was slow off the mark, and the notifications…”

Ted trailed off. He was still getting used to the numbers, what they meant. How much damage he could take. Sure, he could feel it, but even the scuffles he’d had growing up had nothing on being stabbed.

He needed to learn. He needed those instincts, instincts he could only get one way.

The words struggled to come out of his mouth, but it had to be done. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Cara and he hadn’t done all he could have. “Will you teach me?”

Gramok locked his eyes with Ted. His gaze was intent, piercing right down to the depths of Ted’s soul. “You understand what that means?”

Ted bit his lip, phantom aches already imagining what was to come. “I have healing magic.”

After a long pause, Gramok nodded. “Alright. You should go warn Cara, first. I’d rather not get an arrow to the face.”

Ted chuckled, and did so. He explained it to Cara. At first, she didn’t see the point. Wood elves didn’t train like that, so it couldn’t possibly be needed.

But he wore her down. He wasn’t a wood elf. He didn’t have her Dexterity to dodge and weave. He needed to know how to take a hit and keep going.

She gave in, and Ted returned to Gramok. “Alright, I’m ready. How’re we going to do this?”

Gramok smiled. “Excellent! Before we begin…” He walked up to Ted, and punched him in the face.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Glancing blow! 35 bashing damage received!

Ted flinched away, clutching his face. “It’s going to be like that, huh?”

“Lesson one: always be ready. Let’s go.”

They fought, round after round, breaking off only long enough for Ted to heal up their damage. Mostly Ted’s damage—even after taking off his armor, punching Gramok was still like punching a brick wall.

With each battering, his instincts about how much damage he’d taken grew more accurate. It was a slow process, and he still glanced at the notifications every time they popped up, but more and more his focus remained on the fight itself.

“That’s enough,” Gramok said, after an eternity that couldn’t have been more than half an hour. “You need your rest.”

Gasping for air and clutching his side, Ted nodded, and slumped down to the floor. “Rest sounds pretty good about now.”

“Feeling more confident?” Gramok asked, sitting down beside him.

“Yeah, yeah I think so.” This better be bloody worth it. “I guess you went through all this too, huh?”

“In a way. It’s easier when you start young. No bad habits to get in the way.”

“How… how young?”

“Young. Not like this, no, but it was a hard schedule. Father wanted me to be trained, and what Father wants, he gets.”

“This wasn’t your choice?”

Gramok tilted his head and paused. “The adventuring? That’s my choice. Drives him up the wall, but I’m not even the spare, so I get away with it. The training?” He shook his head, apparently about to say something else, but nothing came.

What else was there to say?

“What about you?”

The question came suddenly, out of the blue, catching Ted off guard. “Me?”

“Every time I mention my father, you have that look. Yeah, that one.”

Ted’s face scrunched up even more. “Mine… wasn’t around. That’s all.”

“That’s rough, sorry. Do you remember him at all?”

Ted’s fists balled up. Fleeting memories, fragments best forgotten. “A little. He could get a bit obsessive about problems. I remember one time he spent all day trying to get this stupid game working for me.”

“Did he manage it?”

The world closed in around Ted’s chest. “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

Gramok placed his arm around Ted, and patted him on the shoulder.

Ted clenched his eyes shut, willing away pointless tears.

***

They travelled another day and a half before leaving the sky behind and heading beneath the not-forest.

Underground! Cara kept glancing up at the ceiling, reminding herself that the tunnels had been stable for millennia. They weren’t going to collapse now just because she was in them.

Yet her pulse raced all the same. Rock, rock, and more rock. If she kept moving, it would all be okay. There wasn’t anything to worry about.

Why would anyone willingly live their lives underground? No sky, no trees, no grass. She breathed deeply, but ugh, all she got was stale air.

And so many sharp little rocks! Everywhere they went, sharp little rocks, declaring war on her feet.

She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and ran her finger down the worn wall. Had the stone been smooth once? How many years ago had the dwarves crafted it? Would they have bothered if they’d known the eventual fate of Tarkath?

Tiny stones rattled ahead, kicked by clumsy feet. Oh, Ted…

Ted, Ted, Ted. He’d been so quiet the last couple of days, subdued even.

“You okay?” Gramok asked, towering over her, his brow wrinkled in concern.

She nodded. She could handle it. Her poor bare feet, though… “Yeah. Just all these stupid little stones!” She kicked one away, but that only made it worse.

“I have some spare boots, if you need them.”

“I’ll be alright. Thank you, though.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

That little twist in her gut clenched, just to drive how stupidly easy a fix it was. There were already boots in her pack. Anytime she wanted, she could pull them out, put them on, and make Jeremy right all over again.

She growled and wrenched her pack off her back.

“It’s not a weakness to wear boots, you know. Hell, I wear sabatons sometimes!”

Cara snorted. “It’s not that.” She pulled out the stupid boots Jeremy had insisted she take. He’d even put bloody socks in them.

Metal armor clanked against stone as Gramok leaned against the wall. “Oh?”

She sat down, dusted off her suffering feet, and pulled on the socks and boots.

Gah, of course they’d fit perfectly.

“Who is it you don’t want to be right? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Her chest tightened. “That obvious?”

He gave a half-shrug, and another of his stupidly infectious grins. “I might have made a mistake or twelve not wanting old Lord Kadora to be right.”

“Jeremy.” The world pulled down on her limbs. “My mentor.” He wouldn’t have let pride get in the way. She bit her lip. She’d never be half as good a Ranger as him, but they were stuck with her. “Are we going to die?”

He chuckled. “Of course we are.”

Her heart sunk, and she stared up at him. How could he grin about that?

“But not today.” He pulled her to her feet and clapped her on the back. “I’m going out old, wrinkly, and full of tindovarg—and you damned well better be singing at my funeral.”

Laughter forced itself out of her. “Didn’t you say I butchered your language worse than a monk organizing a party?”

“We can fix that. The real prize, though, will be getting Ted to join in.”

The idea of Ted singing brought a smile to Cara’s face. “Let’s see what we can do.”