Baldy ushered me beyond the unsettling encampment until we reached a cul-de-sac of tents sat upon a raised section of the forest. These tents were slightly larger than the previous ones, not much in terms of luxury, but enough to tell that whoever slept in these tents were held in a higher regard.

Behind them were large, wooden wagons, made of the natural material right down to the wheel, much like the ones that were used to transport goods back before cars and advanced metal work were developed. I would have thought these were those live action role players readying up for their next campaign had I not just walked through the camp.

“Orion, why have you brought him here?” A man, clearly around his fifties, rose from the campfire. His face adorned with a gruff and greying beard but the crows feet around his sharp green eyes spoke of better times.

“‘E looked like ‘e were about to run off, Soran.” The bald man, Orion, spoke, pointing the sword at me.

Soran’s wise gaze scanned me, and he gave a weary sigh before retreating into his tent. He came back seconds later with a handful of neatly folded cloth.

“It’s freezing. Use my tent, put some clothes on your back.” The old man said, placing the clothes in my arms and guiding me to the tent he just came out of.

“Yer giving him clothes?” I heard Orion protest.

“He is not one of them, Orion.” Soran’s voice was weighted with great exhaustion. I recognised it all too easily.

“Not yet! Who knows what he could do!” The bald one exclaimed. He had a deep rooted hatred for something, and I was not quite sure I wanted to find out what it was.

“So freezing him and hitting him is the way we should go?”

“The empire would do much worse to one of us!”

The conversation faded as I entered Soran’s tent. The inside was scarce of everything. There wasn’t even a bed, just a roll of fur sprawled out on the ground. Around the edges were a couple of rucksacks and one lone crate with a simple golden pocket watch on top of it. Soran kept everything tidy, but he was still carrying light.

I shifted to the side of the opening, hiding around the corner to conserve my privacy as I pulled myself into the clothes. They fit loosely around my legs and torso and were clearly for someone with a heavier or stockier disposition yet they certainly were not Soran’s size. At my full six foot two height, Soran came up to my nose, but these clothes sagged. They were not the typical fabric that I was used to, feeling coarse against my skin and I never knew that I could miss the feel of cotton or polyester hoodies more than I did in the moment. I did rejoice when the shoes, albeit a size or two too big, gave my feet much needed respite.

After donning the clothes, I emerged back into the clearing to find that Orion had left the area and Soran was the only one sitting beside the fire. Something I was thankful for.

“Thanks…” I said, sitting across from the old man. I had a million and one questions buzzing about but none of them wished to enter the conversation. Or even start it. Not that this surprised me, I never could talk to others very well. Aimy did all of the talking most of the time.

The thought of my best friend brought my mood down, and I unconsciously shrunk into myself. I had no idea to tell if she was okay or even alive. Had she been lucky enough to survive the crash? What about the rest of the course? I wasn’t exactly friends with them but I would not have wished that upon anybody, not even Saxon. As much as punching him would have given me great pleasure nobody deserves to feel that amount of pain.

“They were my son’s. He was a big lad. Good, hard worker too.” The old man spoke, and I noticed the solemn droop to his eyes as he prodded the fire. “Take care of them for me, it’s the last piece of clothing of his I have left.”

A silence stretched between us, broken periodically by the crackling of twigs in the fire. The sight of the fire was somewhat relaxing. It didn’t calm my racing mind or the thoughts that encircled and entwined within. But the familiarity of a burning flame was a soothing sight.

“My apologies about the whole naked thing.” Soran began. “We retrieved you that way and with the current situation, we just set you where we could. We had asked Orion to clothe you, but he has his reasons which you no doubt heard.” He spoke with the disposition of an elder who had just about ran out of excuses to remain living.

I nodded in response. Whatever those reasons were must link back to the group trying to recover. It didn’t add up though. Why hold me in a tent that was a few tens of yards away from the encampment? Although, when I thought back on the disdainful looks I received, it was more than obvious why.

“We couldn’t take the chance of having you close to the rest of the group.” Soran explained as though he had read my mind. “It took a lot of us to retrieve you from that location and we lost many lives in that attempt alone.”

“What do you mean?” He definitely said ‘retrieve’.

“What is your name, son?” He asked, clearly avoiding the question.

“Thomas,” I said after a moment's thought.

“Thomas, huh?” Soran looked up at the rustling leaves. There was a resignation on his hunched shoulders. Any energy the old man once had had been stripped from him, down to the last fibre of his being. Whatever weighed heavily on his mind must have been a huge burden.

“There was once a story my grandfather used to tell me as a child, it helped me sleep at night. I guess you could call it a comfort story to get me to doze off.” Soran began, going back to prodding the fire.

“It told of great warriors, ones who could lead thousands of men into battle and wipe out ten times more just by themselves. They were incredible, excelling in the arts of swordplay, strategy and Willpower.”

So the old man was told bedtime fairy tales?

He chuckled, feeding the flames another tasty twig. “Bear with me a second here.”

“Sorry.” I mumbled.

“Your face told the truth, do not be sorry about that.” Soran laughed, and the joy relieved some of the tension. It was a hearty laugh and one that was a rather nice change to the screams running around my mind. “Anyway, these stories were filled with those warriors and mages, granted power from the gods themselves and they used it to ensure that the races of the world were safe from the natural dangers and even worse, each other.

“However, no one from this world had access to such power. This power was only bestowed upon those who were chosen. Chosen to wield great strength and protect the world that they were brought to. At first, they were like babes, struggling to navigate on their feet and always tripping and falling over the slightest bump. But their growth? Exponential. They rise and rise until the skies are no longer the limits but a goal to burst through to aim for the realm of the Gods.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Soran returned his gaze to the clouds. “As a child, I wished and wished. Prayed to the Goddess Natura herself, to grant me such a power. I wanted to keep my whole family safe at all costs from the tainted beasts that plague this world as well as those with corrupted souls but I was never granted much. The most I could do was a simple trick like this.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Soran reached his hand into the flame without hesitation and withdrew a swirling ball of orange deadliness. The fire in his hands flickered and lashed out in flares like a small sun burning on his hand, but neither the heat or the flames themselves seemed to bother the old man.

“How-”

“In this world, there is Willpower or Will as we call it. The ability to manipulate the world around us. Fire is an affinity I have had since I was a boy.”

“Wha-”

“Imperials…” A soft, sultry voice echoed in my head.

“Imperials?” I said aloud. Soran glanced at me, his eyebrows raising and the fire in his hands flowing back into the tiny fire.

Then came the unmistakable vibrations of two metals colliding. The sound bounced off the thick trunks and rang as though it was beside us the entire time. The old man's head swivelled and a burning intensity radiated from his being.

“No!” Soran said, “Stay in my tent, and don’t let anyone see you!” He demanded, shoving me into his tent and strapping a great sword around his waist before sprinting through the forest with a speed that did not match his appearance. Seconds passed and the screams began. Just like the ones that still reverberated in my mind, these screams were filled with fear and desperation.

I was not about to try and get caught up in whatever shit was going on outside. Besides, Soran’s words rang in my head like a police siren. He said ‘in this world’ as though we weren’t on Earth. That was impossible. There was no way that I could be in a different world, it just did not make sense. Yet, the way he reached his hand into the flame and brought out a ball of fire, that had to be some sort of special effect or gadget. Technology was great at creating illusions like that one. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that what Soran had said was true. There was a sense of urgency in his voice that I don’t think even the greatest of actors are capable of. If I truly was in another world then I was completely out of my depth.

Even still, my entire being shook with indecision. I couldn’t just sit here even if there was a reason for me to stay hidden, not when I had some way of helping no matter how miniscule. I tore away from the large crate I was behind and slunk down to the encampment. As I approached, the fighting drew closer with the all too familiar cries of agony. It was a sound I would never get used to. I shrunk into my space in the shadow of a tree and tried to fight off the nausea threatening my balance.

I should have stayed in the tent.

A wave of silver rushed through the encampment, slashing at everything in its way. Many of the ones who had glared at me were cut down with an ease that was unnatural. With no armour to parry or protect them from the curved blades of the knights, they were just sliced open and left to allow the blood to soak into the once green ground. Row upon row of armour-clad warriors stormed into tents, dragging out those who tried to hide and cower only to be killed without hesitation. I had watched plenty of movies that involved these kinds of scenes; the way the sword pierced through the body and stabbed out of the back, or the way the blade carved through bone like it was butter. None of that compared to the real thing. To the iron stench that permeated from the ground, the screams and cries of pain and anguish that tore into my ear drums. The nausea returned tenfold and I could no longer hold it back.

Me retching out whatever contents had been stored in my stomach brought attention to the closest of the knights. A maniacal cackle came just as I saw them crush someone's sternum with a club covered in small, sharp spikes.

“Oh? Is there another rebel shit here?” I had never felt fear like that before. The deranged voice delighting in the bloodshed.

A hand clasped upon my shoulder and Soran’s sweat covered face appeared in front of mine as he hauled me to my feet and thrust me back towards his tent.

“Get him out of here!” Soran said to Orion, who threw me further.

“I guess that is the Summoned One we are after?” The Knight said, spinning the mace in his hand. “I found him!”

The attention of the entire contingent of knights turned on me in an instant and though they all wore helmets, I could feel the smiles forming. I was their prize and the reason that they were tearing up this encampment. Why did they want me?

Orion dragged me by the scruff of my neck like some lost kitten to speed me up. We reached the tents quickly and the bald man threw me inside the one Soran had allowed me to get changed inside of. I was by no means a small man but Orion towered above me like some raging goliath. He paced back and forth by the entrance of the tent, his chest heaving as he glanced over at me with every other step.

“Come on out! We have your leader with us now. If you do not, his blood will douse the fire.”

“They would not…” I shot up from the ground, looking around the entire tent for the woman that spoke. That voice echoed in my mind as clear as day. It was like they were right next to me but not there at all. Orion took that moment to charge at me. My scared arse froze to the spot. The bald man was covered in fresh, crimson blood. It splattered over him like some expressionist had flicked a brush at a canvas. The smell radiated and the thickness of the iron burned as it entered my system. It was a miracle that I kept my body functions stable, even when a blood-tainted, calloused hand gripped my throat. His strength was unlike anything I had felt before as he literally hauled me into the open.

“Orion, don’t!” Soran pleaded.

“Fuck you, Soran!” His grip tightened around my throat. I kicked and clawed but this bastard had me in a vice grip. “We shoulda gotten away but you decided to interfere with that fucking ritual. It damn near killed us all!”

The old man’s eyes were a pit of rage; like staring into the eternal flames of hell. His hatred shone right through and it was aimed at me. I sucked in what air I could but his hand closed around my larynx and prevented any reaching my lungs.

“You cannot do this!”

“Do what? Let the Empire have their little fucking experiment? They already have a fucking army and half of the continent. At least, if I kill this one, there will be one less for the rest of the continent to think about!”

I couldn’t flail any longer. Orion had managed to lift me off the floor just by my neck. The kicking and scratching only served to waste energy and oxygen all at once. My vision dissipated in a snail's pace and before long everything merged into one large blur. I was really going to die now… I guess I used up all of my luck escaping the bus.

“No!”

“NO!”

A fluorescent blaze of blue scorched through the shroud of darkness that had encroached in my sight. The hard ground was unforgiving as my body smacked against the roots and dirt. Air swept into my lungs as I hacked and coughed but was desperate for more. I didn’t have time to recover when a set of hands grasped at my shoulders. Instinct had me lash out, push away whoever was grabbing me. If there was a chance of experiencing that again, I would try my utmost to avoid it.

Attempting to talk caused a sensation akin to swallowing drawing pins so I remained silent. Unlucky for me, as I could not complain about the acidic stench that emitted from the crisp corpse of my strangler. Whatever those flames were, they had singed my arms, leaving them bare of hair but that was nothing when compared to the barbecued human in the corner.

“That stubborn bastard.” Soran swore.

The old man was on his last legs, crouched by the knights and finding it harder than I am to regain his breath. His greying hair was stained with blood whether it was his or not I couldn’t tell. The clothes on his back were tattered from the battle and there were multiple open wounds still leaking blood though if they bothered him, it did not show. Soran turned, glaring at a knight larger than Orion with a fierce venomosity.

“So, what happens now then?”

“You will come with us. There is no point in you resisting anymore,” The armoured man said, “Besides, you are the only one left.” He chuckled.

“No…” a pang of sadness resonated deep within me. It was foreign, like I was feeling someone else's emotion at that moment.

A knight arrived, took a quick scan of the area and stood back upright with practised professionalism. “All forces have been eliminated. Is this the missing one?”

Did they mean me?

“It is. Chain that one up,” The larger knight commanded, pointing to the defeated Soran before turning back to me. “You don’t look like much… You better be worth the effort.”