"Aaaaaaaah!" A scream resounded.

Cohl slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurred and shaky, his ears were ringing. A familiar feeling. He tried to steady himself—“Urgh!”—but suffered a sudden, yet expected, headache.

Suddenly, an object appeared within his vision. He focused as much as possible in his state, and recognized it. An army bat in motion. He could not see the handle, so he didn't know whether it was thrown or swung. But the bat was definitely moving, towards his head nonetheless.

Cohl reacted quickly, using the remainder of his strength to roll away on the ground and dodge aside. Even though his body pained him, he managed to roll a few times to his left. It didn’t work. The bat continued to follow him as if it was drawn to him. Swung!—he thought.

Cohl clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the incoming blow and pain that would follow...

He lied down like that for seemingly ages, but the pain never came. Ringing finally left his ears and silence took its place. His headache remained, though. Just like before, he opened his eyes slowly. This time his vision was clear.

The first thing he discerned was his left arm, which was definitely not a bat. There was no bat at all. Cohl shook his head—memory—he thought. It was a part of the many gruesome things he would like to forget. Things that kept him awake at night, and gave him nightmares while he was sleeping. Things that made him see danger in every shadow.

But remembering kept him alive, because for him, the danger was often real. Not the first time he’d gone through these motions for naught, but all of the episodes had felt like reality. Only in his safe place could he truly relax and calm down.

Lying down on his right side with his left arm stretched out in front of his head, realization dawned on him. Although he could see the arm, he couldn’t feel it. He tried moving it a few times, but got no response, not even pain. This, was not familiar.

Is it numb from my weight? Was I lying down on it before I rolled?

Unsure what the problem was he decided to check on his other arm. He couldn’t feel it either. Cohl turned his head around, checking if it was behind him. It wasn't—his right arm wasn't there. Cold sweat slid down his back. It can’t be—he thought, worried—did my luck finally run out?

There was however, a sensation of something throbbing his ribs from beneath, warranting his attention. He was lying down on something covered by his robes.

That should be my arm. But what if it’s not, it could be a rock? Do I have to fight with only one arm from now on? I can’t feel it. But I can’t feel the left one either. Numbed from lying down pro— shouldn’t it have already recovered by now?

He definitely was lying down on something, Cohl was sure of that. And he also had ribs, he was sure of that as well.

"Aaaaaaaah!" Another scream resounded—snapping Cohl out of reminiscence and back to reality. He rolled on his back. Using his abdominal muscles, he rose to a sitting position with legs stretched out and arms on his sides. Sparing it a glance, he saw his right arm, confirming its presence. All five of his limbs were still attached, albeit not all were functional. The arms—just—the arms.

Worried about the scream, he finally started taking note of his surroundings and subsequently organizing his thoughts.

Trees, vines, prans. Cohl was surprised. The information was wrong?! This was supposedly a simple job. It wasn’t what he had expected.

These weren’t ordinary trees. Their body thick enough for six men to combine their reach and still not grasp it, their height reaching more than 200 feet—some even 300—trying to grasp the sunlight. As well as devoid of branches until then—Kolan trees.

In-between the trees, long vines interweaved with curly prans. The prans' flowers blossomed, a pleasure for any pair of eyes. Their petals were purple of color and sweet when tasted. Well known for their healing properties, they were often used to make tea. As a contrast to that, both inside and outside, their stamens were a fiery red, a warning to those around them. The Lantrea's stamens were highly poisonous if eaten. At best paralysis, at worst death. That explains my hands, he thought.

It was a jungle. Cohl pulled out a small, rectangular piece of wool from an inappropriate place. It had four different color marks lined up on it. He tore a small line at the second one and put a finger in it. The metal inside was cool to the touch. A single night, he thought. As he pulled out the finger, the wool latched back together and the tear disappeared.

It was an expensive object. Cost him a sword wound on his back and 2 arrows through his right arm, all scars now. It was worth it, though. For Cohl, especially so.

Only one jungle had been in the reach of a night’s walk before he had lost consciousness. Knowing his approximate location, he was more worried about the screams he’d heard and decided to carefully investigate. Before that, he needed to get out of the wooden cage he was currently in. An easy task for him, so easy he hadn’t even regarded the cage’s existence.

It had most likely been built just for him. Although it was small and wooden, it served its purpose well. It wasn't tall enough for someone to stand in and take charge, and the paralysis would take away their arm strength. Even without those limits, breaking the sturdy vines or the boards they held together, for a barehanded person, was impossible.

But waking up in strange places, tied up, put in cages, hanging down from trees, carried in bags, in the process of being buried alive... That's how Cohl’s working days usually started.

Information was mostly reliable, but full of holes. Things that happened during those holes made him permanently on guard, even after the job. The information he’d gotten this time was almost perfect and the situation was simple.

Small-time bandits stole something out of their league. They also dealt with illegal slavery, which was his way in. Get kidnapped, free himself, kill the bandits, and recover a richly decorated box—“You’ll know when you see it”. A simple job.

Maybe they aren’t small-time bandits after all, the pay was a bit high. There could be dozens of them, I have to be careful. They could even be severely armed, should I just bail it? I need the money, though.

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Cohl put his legs into frog stance and pulled himself towards the cage. He stopped once his feet were next to the vines, and—with his feet again—took of his shoes. He put his naked feet on to the vines and exerted strength, pressing at them.

He started concentrating. His eyes were narrowed, staring at his feet. After half a minute smoke came out from the vines, they took fire. Cohl was still deeply focused, stomping the fire out as soon as the vine burned out or really thin, easy to break. He didn’t want the wood to catch fire as well, too much smoke would alert his kidnappers. Escaping then would be farfetched.

Pressed with feet, put on fire, stomped out. The same process was repeated several times. It was only a little bit of magic, barely scratching the surface. For one of the prestige magi it would be a joke. For Cohl however, it was this tiny bit of magic that made him sought for. A secret that allowed him to do what others couldn’t. He wouldn’t tell a soul about it.

Cohl put his shoes back on and displayed his partner—the frog stance—again. He got to the distance in which he could exert the most strength, and started kicking at the wood next to the knots he previously put on fire. With their resistance severely lowered, it didn’t take long before they broke loose.

He kicked the wood away and crawled through the opening created. Cage breaking basics 101, he thought. They were hardly basic though, even magic was involved. Magi were revered people, and magic was a tough and secret art. The chances of someone who knew magic getting stuck in a wooden cage, in a jungle, in the middle of nowhere.... It was as high as shagging a Paleti whore and not picking up a disease. Cohl knew just enough to—well he knew a few things about shagging a Paleti whore as well—to burn his way out of that wooden cage in the middle of nowhere.

He crawled his way out and, with difficulty, finally got into a standing position. Need to fix the arms first, he thought. He walked up to the prans and started eating the Lantrea's petals. Nature's balance they say—the Lantrea countered its own poison—a dozen of them should do it.

Cohl stopped and stretched out while waiting.

A couple of minutes passed and he finally felt sensation from his arms again; tingling came first, then weakness, and finally full capability. Now the hard parts. What am I dealing with?

He carefully moved towards the direction the screams echoed from. Going through the vines and prans with difficulty, even more so trying to be quiet. If he got tangled up, magic would free him. Although it was troublesome, he found a path. Nobody would put prisoners too far, it was barely more than 40 feet. Cohl steadied his breathing and continued forward in a half crouching position. The path lead deeper into the jungle, thinning in the process.

Cohl followed the path to its end, where he hid back into vegetation. Suddenly exiting it could lead to a disaster which would cost him his life.

Natural clearings were rare in jungles, and this one was completely man made. Only a few tree trunks in sight. It had been an area full of vines and prans before. That was probably been the reason it had been chosen. Trees were hard to cut, hard to move. Axes made out of Anor metal could do it, but they were very expensive.

A wooden shack stood in the middle of the area, made from the cut Kalon tree. There was no sense trailing other wood if Kalon trees were here. The door faced into his direction, there were no windows on this side. This? The sight confused Cohl. I was expecting dozens of them. What is going on here? He waited a bit, trying to catch a sign of someone moving or hear another scream.

A while passed and nothing happened. No screams, no talk, not even any sound of walking came from the shack. Did they leave?

Unsure whether anyone was there, Cohl silently—and reluctantly—moved towards the shack. Moving towards the center increased the difficulty of his escape if he were to be found.

There was only five more feet left, yet still no sign of activity from inside the shack. Cohl’s uneasiness was rising as the distance was closing. He made the final few steps and pressed against the wall, slowly circling around. He had to peek through the door—the most dangerous way—because the shack had no windows. Making his way to the door he noticed a faint light inside. A lantern?

He took a few deep breaths. It was time to peek, to find out his luck. He moved his head towards the door and slowly—bit by bit-looked inside.

The closer corners were hidden by design. The light from the left illuminated the right—empty—side. Moving his head further outwards gave him vision of the other side.

There, a single table hugged the corner. On the table was one lit candle, almost fully burnt. Finding a burning candle instead of a glowing lantern in the jungle was weird, but Cohl ignored it. There was no box.

Empty? But the screams? Was I heard?—his breathing accelerated—A trap!

Suddenly, Cohl jumped into the shack, ducking in the process. While in the air he glanced at both sides expecting an ambush. A person sat on the chair to his left. From the stature Cohl judged it to be a man. His body faced the wall—and with the chair blocking illumination—his details were indiscernible.

Sitting? The sight puzzled him—Crossbow!—but not for long.

Cohl hastily dropped to the floor to dodge the predicted arrow. No arrow came, but Cohl wasn’t offset. He was already in his next motion. He pounced towards the chair like a raging tiger, aiming to topple the man. Without a weapon, turning it into a ground combat was the best option. The chair struck the ground and two entangled bodies rolled of it.

Cohl perceived the position of the men’s arms on his sides. He raced to grab them. He firmly locked both of the arms down, which put him in control of the fight. Cohl looked up at the man’s face, for the first time able to see it.

!  

With a blank expression on his face, the man was already—Dead?!—lifeless. Just what is going on here?