As you’d imagine, it’s hard to explain why I was vacuuming up copious amounts of the congealed reptilian gunk that powers the lamps and looms of Haverbark.
I stood at the end of the processing station, keeping an eye on Adam and the guild leader while they gabbled about the internal politics of the GTA, like how ‘the Ripping Warriors would be punished this time’ and ‘the GTA couldn’t harm a hair on their heads.’
I wanted to point out that Adam had left a dagger-sized hole in one of their chunkiest members, but my mouth was too full of a new sample of Combusto-Gunk to bother.
Priorities.
I had to stop when my stomach protested with strange gurgles, and my throat began to close in on itself. At this point, the amount of gunk stuffed in my squirrel-cheeks could’ve warmed a small home, assuming the product was as efficient as Adam claimed and as high-grade as it tasted.
And you don’t have to tell me — I know — Adam said not to get too caught up in the thrill of experience and levels, but at the time I didn’t think a five-minute stab at some lizard gunk would let me shoot fire from my fingertips with the [Venta] skill.
I took another scoop to-go and approached Adam, who was finishing his debate.
“Good gollywobbles, Marcus, I can smell it on your breath — you might be riding with the beasts on the way back.”
I can smell it on your breath…I’d heard that before.
The guild leader — her name turned out to be Veronica — waved us off as we stepped into our carriage, and Adam threw his tools into the corner before heading back out to the beasts. He yanked the reins, turning them toward Haverbark.
When he reentered and shut the door, light filtered through the wire mesh in diamond-shaped dots, spreading out over the stained floor. Adam settled into his cushion and stared at me.
“Not a bad trip, eh? Quick and easy. You must be starving. Keen for lunch? There’s an all-you-can-eat rolled pork place on the edge of town. They serve haschernut soup that is to die for. That is unless you’ve eaten already?”
Heat rushed up my neck and spread over my face.
Busted. Or just a coincidence?
“I — I had a large breakfast, I’m still full. And that little taste of Gunk tipped me over the edge, I think. Thank you though, I’ll have to go sometime.”
Adam gave me another of those exasperating grins that encouraged me to resort to violence.
“That little taste, huh? So, the gob-fulls of stuff you were shoving down was just ‘a little taste’?”
By no means did Adam shape up at all to Ralph Palagroo, but right now, I was far more concerned about being caught by him than if I’d — I dunno — sent some of Ralph’s money to the wrong gangbanger. My right knee had the shakes, and I could feel sweat gathering on my spine despite the mild temperature in the carriage.
“Sorry Adam, I...err...I liked the taste.”
“You liked the levels.”
“...Yeah.”
Adam sat and looked out the window — it was hard to tell if he was trying some sort of long-stare-contemplative-power-move — Elon Musk-style — or if he was just indifferent to me stealing from taxpayers. I folded back my sleeve and opened my Navigator, flicking around without really seeing anything. Strength, yep, standard. Magic, fine. Intuition, okay.
Adam drew his dagger and tossed it around, catching the hilt in two fingers just before the blade slipped down into his thigh. Definitely a power move. He looked up at me again, continuing his parade.
“You know, when I started at the GTA, I had a manager that specialized in some funky types of alchemy — you know, wishy-washy stuff that sometimes fizzed and bubbled down to nothing, but other times created potions and poultices powerful enough to turn a bedridden granny into the First Tank of the Royal Army.”
Where is this going?
“Anyway, my second site visit with this manager was at a guild headquarters called Bejeweled. They’re big — consider yourself lucky if you ever get put on the audit team — and they specialize in extracting magical jewels and other valuables from high-difficulty dungeons. At their headquarters in Carringhal, they carve and shine and cut the jewels before selling them or using them in their own weapons and armor.”
Get to the point, get to the point.
“I was tasked with testing the quality of a sample of rubies — beautiful red pieces of magic — and I pocketed one. When the manager found out, he melted down the ruby, made a potion out of it, and forced it down my throat. I’ll spare you the harsh details, but I was out of action for weeks. The worst pain you could imagine for days on end, and I swear I’ve had a blue splotch in my vision ever since.
Now, I don’t really do potions, I’m more Strength-based, but I do believe that the punishment should fit the crime, so taking my manager’s example...”
He rose from his cushion, balancing as the carriage jolted. I could see his intention even before he clenched the hilt of the dagger and stepped forward, leaning over me. I don’t know if he expected me to just take the hit, but I’d seen the damage he did to the big guy from the Ripping Warriors, and I wasn’t looking for the same treatment. When his fist started its unpleasant journey to my jaw, I remembered the spell I’d learnt from leveling up my Flame Magic. I shot my palm out, fingers upturned to his face.
[Venta!]
The carriage exploded, splinters of redwood timber and smoke filling the tight confines in moments. Adam fell on me, his strike glancing off my ear and bursting through the weak layer of fabric behind my back. It hurt like hell, like the bastard had ripped my ear off, but I didn’t have time to slap a hand to my head to check.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I slumped to the ground and scraped along the floor to where the door used to be, coughing and spluttering as the thick smoke rushed around my head and wafted out the nearest exit.
I rolled out, kissing the dirt and raking my elbows on the gritty road. Fire crackled and licked up the ropes tethering the beasts, and they took off, bumping through the trough on the side of the road, continuing through the fence and hedgerows beyond that.
Adam flopped out just before the cart dashed itself into the trough, half-running, half-stumbling into the ditch where he lost his footing and went headlong into the gooey muck left there by recent rain. I could hear him swearing from the moment he escaped the burning cabin, interspersed with shouts of terror as burning bits of wood and curtain bashed into him, leaving embers nestled in his coat and hair.
When he pulled himself out from the muddy depths, he stood on the road, staring at me like a crackhead outside a Krispy Kreme outlet. I couldn’t be sure if the devilish look on his face was a desire to kill me, kidnap me, or praise me, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out.
I had about a fifty-meter head start and the fear of death of my side, so I turned and bolted down the road back towards the Ripping Warriors. I heard Adam shout, and I pumped my arms harder, willing my legs to carry me faster and faster to speeds which I hadn’t achieved on Earth since gaining my beer-gut back in ‘04.
I was flying along, and my Navigator dinged out its ‘Level Up!’ noise, but mere seconds into my escape I felt a hand on my shoulder, then came a rough shove that sent me careening into the dirt once again, unable to keep my feet.
Adam stood over me once I stopped sliding and rolling, then reached down to my shirtfront, hoisting me to my feet.
“Marcus! Chill the hell out! I’m not going to kill you, you lunatic. I think you’ve learnt your lesson, for goodness' sake, man!”
You’ll have to forgive me for this next part, because it’s going to seem rather foolish, but you must understand — I was freaking the fuck out. This guy had the capacity and apparently the motive to shatter my jaw, shiv me a few times and leave me in the dust, never to be seen again.
There was no doubt that no one in Haverbark or the GTA would go searching, not for a first-day graduate with less power than the shit on their shoes. So, in my struggle and fear and desperation, I tried something that had worked before, something I knew would give me another brief opportunity to run.
My trusty Destruction spell.
“VEN—”
Thump!
###
I awoke.
Headache.
I was in a room — white walls came into focus like ghosts closing in, and while my brain adjusted, they bent and folded over my head, nauseating me further. I shut my eyes and waited for my other senses to come on board.
Next, I found I was in a bed. Not quite the crisp hospital sheets I expected, but more like a half-made guest bed with scratchy blankets and drool stains on the pillowcase. I attempted unshuttering my eyelids and this time the walls kept back and stood upright.
I was right on the edge of comfort — one more light blanket and I would’ve been warm enough to stay there much longer, but as it were, I was too cold to sleep.
Instead, I decided to work out where I’d been stashed away. Swinging my legs over the floor, I stood and stretched, marveling that my back felt so great — not even a single crack or the usual jolt of old-bloke pain.
The room was bland. Just a bed, a set of drawers (nothing in them), a coat rack and a swirling red and white banner pinned to the wall. The door was too small for the doorframe, leaving a two-inch gap between the floor and the base, then again at the top. It made no noise when I opened it, but it was a useless piece of luck, because Adam and an older woman — perhaps the Genevieve woman from earlier? — sat at a round table in front of me, as though they’d been waiting a while. Four empty mugs and a shot glass sat between them.
“Gooood morning, sleepyhead.”
Again, the urge to say that V-word came to my lips, but some sixth sense told me it would go even more poorly than last time. The way the older woman stared at me made me feel like I wouldn’t have the fortune of waking up if I tried any more circus tricks.
“Morning, Adam. Did you...uhh...hit me?”
“I did. You were being a fool, trying to blast us both to hell.”
“So, you aren’t going to kill me?”
“Not if you get your paperwork done once we get back to the GTA.”
I swallowed the little knot of apprehension in my throat and looked at the woman. She seemed familiar, but I wasn’t sure if she was ‘old-world’ or, well, New.
“I don’t believe I’ve formally had the pleasure, but are you, Genevieve?”
She cackled. Her laugh sounded like stones swirling in a metal bucket.
“You ruffian! Already trying to charm me. You’re almost correct though, Genevieve is my daughter.”
Lovely old lady, I’m a pro at these.
“Your daughter! My word, you could be twin sisters as far as I’m concerned.”
Adam shook his head and smirked, then rose from his seat and cleared the cups. While rinsing them out in a large pot, he spoke over his shoulder.
“As I was saying, Marcus here appears to have some magical affinity. I thought you might be interested in—” he paused for a second, “—measuring him.”
I was astounded that measuring was the least creepy word he could come up with, especially after that pause, but I remained curious. The woman scratched at marks on the table and cracked her fingers.
“And what do you say, boy? It’s easier for me to do my thing if you don’t harbor any resistance to it. Just a quirk of magic, I suppose.”
Adam didn’t seem perturbed, still scrubbing away at the dishes as though submitting myself to the whims of a magical old witch was as simple as attending my once-a-decade dentist appointment.
“Will it hurt?”
“No.”
“Will you take my power?”
“No.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
“...Yes.”
Almost gotcha.
“Fine then, I would like to be measured.”
The lady bounced in her chair like an eager child, and I stepped forward, ready for this magical dentist to measure whichever mystical cavities and preternatural plaque she could find. She pushed me back, swishing her hands and gesturing for me to back up against the wall.
“No no, you can stay away. I need you to cast that Destruction spell for me please. Any time you like.”
I looked at Adam, who was now standing with his arms crossed, a blank look on his face. I had been asked to cast a spell that would destroy this house and raze it to the ground, but he couldn’t care less.
“Are you sure you want Ven— the Destruction spell? It makes this really big explo—”
“Yes, boy, yes! Hurry on now, you’ve already held up my day with all that snoring.”
I took one last glance at Adam — one last opportunity to save this place from the same fate as the carriage. He shrugged.
Fine then, see if I care. Not my fault when this goes bad.
I raised my palm, facing my fingertips at the space between Adam and the woman. I felt — and hopefully looked — like Iron Man.
[Venta!]
Light and heat exploded from my fingertips, and for an instant, I felt the power of the blast pushing me into the wall at my back. Then the woman yelled something, and a blue orb appeared before her. It made a noise like a vacuum, and I could only watch as it sucked up my magic, slurping it into its swirling center until it gave a light ‘pop’ and snapped shut.
The woman twirled her hand and the sphere landed in her palm, a storm in a bottle. She closed her eyes for a while, and only now did Adam seem interested. He quietly pulled his chair from the table and sat down, watching her.
She frowned, then twitched her nose, then a strange smile crept onto her face.
“Oh my...you said he has magical affinity?”
Adam sat up straight.
“That’s right.”
The witch sat a while longer, her eyes still closed. She swallowed constantly as the storm in the sphere dissipated, like she was drinking the contents.
“You’re right, but not completely.”
Adam shuffled forward, squinting at the last tendrils of magic.
“He has an affinity for everything.”