I probably should have rested before I made my way out into the canyons. By the time I had made it a couple of miles, my stamina was already flagging. If anyone had been in the area, they likely would have thought they were being visited by an ancient ghost. Dressed in my motley, with a once again shredded tunic and covered in bloodstains, I made my way out of the small unassuming rent in the land.
The path rose until I was standing on a stony plateau. It was too dark out to really determine where I had come out, but I knew I was stuck in a maze of canyons. I also knew that this escape route would have, at least at one time, headed out of these badlands. After all, what good is an escape route if it doesn’t allow one the means to escape? Of course, the intervening years may have changed things quite a bit. The best laid plans of mice and men and all of that.
I sat shivering on top of that rocky expanse until the sun rose. Even though I dozed off a couple of times, it wasn’t very restful. I had become habituated to the silence of the underground complex and the little sounds of nature would startle me, causing me to jerk out of my fitful doze.
Finally, there was enough light to see. I found that the mesa I had ascended was one of the higher points in the area. Based upon my poorly developed dead reckoning skills, I thought that I had moved away from the complex parallel to its entrance. Of course, since I wasn’t completely sure where the road was from the entrance, that didn’t tell me much.
I spent quite a bit of time studying the landscape. Eventually, I started seeing some features that I recognized. Based upon the direction of the rising sun, I was able to determine relative directions. Straining my eyes, I peered to what I dubbed south and could vaguely see what I thought was the road descending from the mountain pass to Sleetfield. I remembered that although the road twisted and turned due to the meanderings of the canyon it ran through, it headed mostly to the north. I reckoned that the road was east of my position. Now, how would I get there?
I started surveying the canyons below me. After studying them for a bit, I determined that I could exit this plateau to the north and intersect a canyon vaguely headed to the east. I set off to do that.
It took me a day and a half to find my way back to the road. Getting into the initial crevasse was easy, but finding my way through the maze of dead ends and side passages was difficult. I eventually did end up climbing the sides of the canyons a couple of times but never more than ten or fifteen feet. I did fall again once, but the drop was only a few feet and I healed quickly.
By the time I reached the road, I was really starting to run short on supplies again. When I reflect back on those early days, I realize just how lucky I was to survive. I was overmatched and overwhelmed. I did come across a couple of pools of water but it was undrinkable, brackish and alkaline. Once I made it to the road, however, I started making good time. Before long, I was leaving this hellhole behind, hopefully for greener pastures.
When I exited the canyons to the north, the change in topography was less sudden and much more incremental. First, I found myself in rolling hills, still largely barren. After a couple of hours of travel, though, things started greening up a little. There were more shrubs and grass began dotting the landscape. Mountains started to rise again on the east and west, and the distance between them narrowed as I continued onward. More wildlife appeared, some curiously familiar and some just curious. Finally, I came upon a small stream, a rivulet really, and I was able to drink my fill and replenish my water.
After another day of travel, the mountains began to widen once more and I found myself in a fertile valley. Isolated farmsteads dotted the landscape and I could see people out with herds of animals. I was hungry and the animals looked delicious, but there was no way I was going to make that mistake again.
As night closed in on my second day in the valley, I saw movement on the road up ahead. A couple of human men astride horses were driving a herd of rangy cattle-looking creatures towards me. The one in the lead spied me and rode up to investigate.
“I take it you found some trouble on the road, stranger,” he said when he had made it within shouting range. He was a small older man with graying hair and skin that had been leathered in the sun. He sat atop his horse as if he had been born there.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Nobody told me that there were undead in those canyons.”
“Undead? Like skeletons and zombies and the like? You are lucky to be alive. Why are you dressed like that?”
“All my travel clothes were destroyed fighting,” I replied. “These are some things I picked up as costumes. I am an actor and I had hoped to catch up with a traveling troupe that I heard was headed to Sleetfield, but when I got there I found out they never arrived. Either my information was wrong or they fell to the perils of the road.”
“An actor,” he snorted. “You too soft for honest work?”
“No, sir. I spent the last few years working in a warehouse, but the stage has always called to me. I guess that dream is dead for the time being. I just need to get someplace to purchase or trade for some food and I’m headed back to the capital.”
I thought I heard him mutter something about city folk.
“Son, you are in a sorry state. I have some chores around the place that you can do if you want to earn some food, and some old work clothes that don’t make my eyes water just looking at them. What do you say, do you want to earn your keep?”
“That would be great!” I replied. I followed him a short distance back the way I had come from until we reached a narrow dirt track headed to one of the local farms. Ranches might be more accurate. With the exception of a large garden most of the land was dedicated to grazing.
The man’s name was Dato. He lived with his two sons, Meliton and Aleksandr and his wife, Yelena. They had a couple of other children as well, but they were all married off and had places of their own. They gave me the most genuine welcome that I had received since I came to this world.
I was given some old clothes from one of the couple’s sons that had moved on. They were tight on me, and the pants were a little short, but they were much less conspicuous than my “costume” clothing. They fed me well, meat from the herd and those things that were in season in the garden. They also worked me hard. I helped brand some calves. I weeded the garden. I mucked out the horse corral. I worked from just before the sun rose in the morning until it was setting again in the evening. I slept in the barn on a comfortable, if itchy, stack of hay and I regained my strength.
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They seemed like they were friendly, honest people, but I had a hard time letting my guard down. I kept to myself, reticent to initiate conversation. After a couple of days, Dato let me know I had repaid my debt and was free to leave.
“You can stay longer if you want,” he said, smiling. “I think I could make a decent ranch hand out of you.”
I laughed at that, touched by his acceptance. Reaching into my pocket, I palmed one of the ancient pieces of silver that I had liberated from the redoubt.
“Dato, you and your family are fine people, but you work too damn hard,” I said, reaching out to place the coin in his palm.
He glanced down at it, a shocked look appearing on his face. He started to hand it back but I held my hands behind my back and wouldn’t accept it.
“Thanks for your genuine kindness. Your willingness to help a stranger is all too rare from what I’ve seen. Take it and buy something for Yelena or your kids. Although I was hoping that I could get a couple of days of supplies from you for the road?”
When I left, I was carrying a sack full of provisions, Dato and his family seeing me off as I walked back out onto the road.
I guess there are good people everywhere. Sometimes, you just have to look pretty hard to find them. Sometimes, they find you.
As I moved along the road to the north, I began encountering more individuals. Some of them appeared to be traders, working their routes to the south. Others were locals, country folk going about their daily lives. I looked like I could be one of them. I was much less reluctant to talk to them. Many of them were guarded, but by and large they warmed up after I engaged in a little small talk and made my peaceful intentions clear.
Finally, after several days of relatively uneventful travel, I was approaching a crossroads. A sign indicated that a settlement of some kind named Shroud Hallow was located to the east. That name didn’t seem ominous at all. Initially, I considered walking on by and just continuing towards the capital, but the idea of some clean clothes and a couple of good meals beckoned. Ignoring the creepy name, I turned and headed down the road that direction.
After traveling for a couple of hours, I crested a hill. Below me, a pleasant looking, unwalled town spread across the flatland below. Far off in the distance to the west, I could see the water of a vast ocean glistening in the sunlight. I started hiking down the hill towards town.
Halfway down the hill, I was forced to step off the road to make way for a caravan of marching people. Led and surrounded by well-armed orcish guards, a chained together coffle of what appeared to be prisoners trudged wearily behind them. As the procession got closer, I could see that all of the prisoners were human. When they started shuffling past my position, I realized that all of the humans were five-fingered. They weren’t prisoners, they were slaves, and there were at least two dozen of them.
Taking a risk, I engaged one of the orc guards, a stout looking female, in conversation.
“Are these for sale?” I asked.
“Fresh from the island and headed to the market in Westfield,” she replied. “If you want to bid on any of them you’ll have to go there.”
“The island?” I asked.
“What, you don’t get news out in the country?” she replied, taking in my appearance. “Some sailors got blown off course and came upon a large island out in the sea. The place is teeming with monstrous creatures and five-fingers pop up there all the time. Lots of companies send expeditions out there to capture what they can. Hell, they are so short on people they would probably even give you a job. I think business is going to dry up, though, because the military is looking to move in.”
Then, she spat to the ground at her side and started yelling at the slaves to keep moving.
Was this the dimensional leakage that Rocky, my interdimensional travel agent, indicated happened naturally all of the time? My heart sank as I watched the slaves march up the hill. That could have been me. Some of those people might even be from my version of Earth, and I was powerless to do anything about it.
Sure, I was tempted to follow the slave caravan and try to free them, but let’s be honest. My combat skills were still fairly rudimentary and there were a lot of orcs, at least ten or twelve. As much as I wanted to go out and unleash one of the Johns on them, Wick or Rambo, I knew that wasn’t practical.
But that didn’t mean I was powerless. Although I probably couldn’t save all of them, I might be able to save some of them. My power wasn’t in the weight of my strong left arm, it was economic. I still had a ton of jewelry and a couple of essence crystals. I didn’t know how much slaves sold for, and I didn’t know how much I could get for all of my stuff, but I could save a few at least. Quickly, I turned and ran after the slaves, rapidly catching back up to my former orcish interlocutor.
Arriving slightly out of breath, I signaled for her attention. She scowled at me.
“You again. What do you want?”
“When’s the auction?” I asked.
“This lot will probably be up in about thirty days,” she replied. “You don’t look like you have a pot to piss in. Why do you care?”
“Just curious, I guess.”
Then, I turned and headed back towards the village.
Since there were no walls, entering it was easy. Just before I entered the town proper, I noticed what appeared to be a military encampment to the north of the road. The orcs that guarded its entrance were much more disciplined than any I had seen to that point.
Thirty days. I had thirty days to liquidate my wealth and make my way to the capital.
As I entered the town, I noticed a variety of mercenary or adventuring companies had recruiting stands on the side of the road. Many different types of people were lined up in front of the booths, talking to the recruiters. Several of them were dressed similarly to me, country kids who wanted off the farm. Since I was part of their target demographic, I wasn’t surprised when some of the recruiters propositioned me. They asked me whether I was looking for a life of riches and adventure. If they only knew.
I ignored them and walked onward into the town. It was larger than Sleetfield, and much more bustling. I saw neither a shroud nor a hallow, and for that I was grateful.
As I wandered through the settlement, I noted a variety of businesses. There were plenty of the normal type – blacksmiths, tanners, coopers, tailors, general stores, inns and the like. But, my eye was captured by one out of the way business. The sign on the side of its door only had some sort of squiggles or runes on it that I couldn’t decipher. I stood and observed the people entering and exiting, and they appeared to be pretty upscale. If I changed into my town clothing, I wouldn’t be too out of place, I decided. Although I would have to find some new shoes, as I shredded my old ones manufacturing my femur axe.
I found a cobbler and paid dearly for a used pair of dressier shoes. Then, after bathing in a public bathhouse and changing my clothes, I headed back to the business. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and entered.