James was at the lake once more, the black waters beckoning him again to submerge. James didn’t want to, however, his fear gripping him as he stood in its shallow end. He couldn’t find a reason, but he was afraid to fully submerge into the waters for fear he would never return.
“Do not fear the unknown, my little kvitravn…”
A soft female voice sounded out, easing the tensions in James’ body. The voice was so familiar, so distant in James’ memory. James watched as a white raven glided from the heavens, landing on the slab which stood in the middle of the lake, its runes pulsating softly. The raven’s blue eyes looked into James’ as if it knew him.
“Do not be afraid, James…”
The voice rang out again, with no visible source.
“Even when I am not with you, the ravens will always be there. They will look out for you. No matter where you are.”
James’ eyes widened as he recognized the words, as they were the same ones his mother had spoken out to him on her deathbed. Before James could speak, darkness overcame him, his dream coming to a close as he woke up.
----------------------------------------
James Holter groaned as he awoke. He blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts, his strange dream still lingering in his mind before he pushed it to the back of his thoughts. He stared at the roof of the hut, unsure of how long he had slept. Hell, he was unsure of what day it was.
‘How long has it been since I’ve arrived here? Seven, eight days? Ugh… Does this world even have a calendar?’
James slowly sat up, groggily rubbing his eyes from sleep.
‘Depends if you’re using the old world calendar or the new one.’
The spirit named Faust suddenly spoke, his ethereal voice filling James’ mind.
James raised an eyebrow.
‘Old world? New one?’
Was the question James asked to the spirit.
‘The new world calendar was the one I remember using before I died. I’m not sure what’s being used now,’ Faust answered.
James scratched at his scruffy beard in thought, which had grown a bit since he had been summoned to Valenfrost. Before he could ask the spirit more about the calendars, Dahlia’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Finally awake?” The shaman asked, the smell of stew reaching James at the same time as her voice. James turned to Dahlia, who was stirring a pot of what looked like last night’s dinner. He could feel his stomach rumble, hunger already rearing its head.
“Yeah. Please tell me that the stew is ready,” James asked with a nervous chuckle.
Dahlia laughed lightly, smiling as she grabbed a nearby bowl.
“Don’t fret, here.” She poured the stew into the wooden bowl before handing the bowl and a spoon to James. James took the bowl carefully, like it was a fragile and expensive work of art. He looked down at its contents, seeing the herbs and stray bits of meat floating around, as well as a piece of a jagged leaf. Without hesitation, James ate spoonful after spoonful, doing his best not to spill as he ate. It didn’t take long before he was done, the bowl empty and void of food.
“I really don’t know what came over me,” James said, embarrassingly as Dahlia refilled his bowl. James was still starving, his appetite enough to eat an entire cow. Dahlia handed his bowl back, a small smile still on her lips.
“It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be starving too if I had slept for two days straight,” she casually mentioned.
James nearly choked on his stew, surprised as he looked at the shaman.
“Two days?” He managed out. He knew he had been sleeping longer than usual, but this was ridiculous. Dahlia nodded, pouring herself a bowl of stew. James was confused, but realization slowly dawned on him as he looked down at his fresh bowl of stew.
‘I guess two spirits in one body require a lot more energy than I thought…’ James thought as he took a spoonful of the stew.
While they ate, James took notice of how much better his body felt since before his long slumber. He could breathe normally, without his lungs sending volts of sharp pain. His injuries didn’t hurt as much, if at all. Once he finished breakfast, he stretched a bit, with no sudden pain or sore muscles plaguing his body.
“How are you feeling?” Dahlia asked as she watched, curiosity on her face.
“Better. Most of my body’s healed, I think,” James answered, rotating his arm before he slowly stood up from his cot, still only dressed in his warm wool pants. Parts of his body were still covered in bandages, but James knew that most of his wounds were healed now, somehow.
‘Faust?’
James knew it had been around a week since the raid, but he wasn’t sure if that was really enough time to heal naturally. The spirit must have had something to do with it.
‘Don’t ask me, I can’t explain everything…’ Faust responded.
James decided it was probably not a ‘special’ healing factor and chalked it up to Dahlia’s herbs and medicine. The young man looked around the hut before he grabbed a long-sleeved shirt to slip it over his bandaged torso.
“Where’s Seamus?” He asked once he pulled down his shirt. He noticed that Dahlia’s cheeks were a flushed red against her light brown skin, her amber eyes focusing on the fire. James wondered if she was too close to the fire’s heat, but thought little of it.
“Oh, he went off to help the townsfolk with the rebuilding,” she answered, her voice cracking a little. James frowned, sitting down on the cot. He knew Seamus had constantly been helping the rebuilding, probably from the guilt of bringing the marauders to Yorktown. No one but a select few knew about Seamus’ fault for the raid.
As far as the townsfolk knew, Seamus was a stranded merchant who had washed up onto shore on a lifeboat. That was all they had to know. Otherwise, things would turn up ugly for Seamus. Regardless, the town council had suspicions about the three newcomers who had come to the island around the time the marauders did.
Haggard had apparently arrived in town around the same time James did, which put him onto the list of suspects, along with the otherworldly man and Seamus. The problem for James, however, was that he didn’t really have much of a cover story. Dahlia had told others that James was a foreign adventurer from Azurvale, but it didn’t seem to do much since James knew next to nothing about the world. He didn’t even know what year it was.
James blinked, remembering his talk with Faust in the morning.
“What’s the date?” James asked Dahlia, who perked up with curiosity.
“It’s Jöntuhn. First month of Frost,” she answered.
“I mean the year.”
Dahlia raised an eyebrow. “It’s the year 560 last I checked… Why?”
James scratched at his beard. “Is that the new calendar?” He asked, genuinely curious about something that had crossed his mind multiple times. Dahlia raised an eyebrow.
“It’s been the standard for hundreds of years. I don’t even remember what year the ancient calendar is on,” she muttered.
‘560?’ Faust suddenly asked, a hint of disbelief.
‘What year was it before your… death…?’ James asked carefully to the spirit.
‘Have I really been dead that long?’ Faust said. He didn’t even seem to listen.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
James decided not to press it.
“Why do you want to know?” Dahlia asked before realization slowly dawned on her. “Oh… The spirit?”
“Yeah… I guess he’s older than we’ve thought,” the young man answered, noting how the spirit had gone silent. “I’ll ask him about it later… I doubt he wants to talk about it,” James added as he stood up again.
“Makes sense,” the shaman responded, placing her empty bowl to the side. “So… since you’re feeling better, do you think you’re ready to go to town?” Dahlia asked as she stood up again, reaching for a cloak that she hung nearby.
James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Dahlia was talking about the meeting James had with the town’s council, who had tried multiple times to talk to him in the past week. He was bedridden then, therefore unable to talk with them. Now, however, he was up and able to move normally again. Most of his wounds healed as well. Still, James didn’t look forward to it at all.
“I guess. I’m still not sure if our cover story is enough to convince them,” James pointed out. He moved to put on a second layer of pants as protection against the bitter cold outside.
Dahlia handed him a blue tunic, which James accepted.
“They have no reason not to believe you, especially since Haggard and I covered for you,” Dahlia said.
Haggard had already met with the council, telling his side of the story. He even added some extra details to help support the cover story Dahlia had come up for the otherworldly man.
“I’m still not sure they’ll care about that. Don’t forget, I’m still a foreigner.” James pointed out as he slipped his tunic over his long-sleeved shirt. Being from another world had its downsides, one of them being the uncanny feeling he emanated. Everyone could feel it whenever they looked at him. James was out of place and didn’t belong, regardless of whatever story or excuse he came up with.
“They don’t have good reason,” Dahlia repeated. “You’re just a lost traveler, one that somehow found himself in the southern edge of Valenfrost by accident.”
“Let’s hope that holds up,” James sighed. He looked around for his work boots, not spotting them anywhere. Dahlia tapped his shoulder, gesturing to the fur boots nearby.
“No Earth clothes, they’re not really the best thing to wear when you’re trying to convince people you’re not a foreigner. Besides, most of them are still covered in blood,” Dahlia explained as she handed a burlap cloak to James. James looked at the cloak, frowning as he felt the material. It wasn’t going to do him any favors in the freezing cold, but it would protect him from the wind, at the very least.
Soon enough, both James and Dahlia stepped out of the hut, ready to go to the small fishing town below.
----------------------------------------
The wind blew against Seamus’ clothes as he worked on the ladder, his grip on the roof tightening as the ladder shook slightly.
“Need help up there?” One man from below asked.
“No, thanks, I’m almost done anyway,” Seamus called back as he shook his head. He looked back at the rooftop he was working on. Seamus had been helping the owners of this building, whose roof had set aflame during the battle’s conclusion. Thankfully for them, the rain had saved their home from being completely burnt to the ground, so the repairs weren’t as difficult as the houses before. Seamus hammered in the last of the planks, something he had learned to do in the past week, thanks to some of the townsfolk.
Seamus climbed down with his hammer and spare nails, giving them back to one of the men who were helping with the rebuilding. Most of Yorktown was still damaged, however, even with the efforts of most of the people in Yorktown. They had been mainly helping repair the parts of town that didn’t burn down but did actually help rebuild and clean up around the area of destruction. It surprised Seamus at how much damage the battle did, even visiting the scene where James and Dahlia had fought for their lives.
‘Fireball runes really are more destructive than they seem…’
Seamus yawned, feeling how exhausted his body felt.
“Another sleepless night?” Someone behind Seamus asked. Seamus turned to see Haggard, carrying lumber for the rebuilding.
“Yeah… Couldn’t sleep,” Seamus admitted. He decided not to mention the night terrors that were the cause of it all.
Haggard chuckled, walking alongside Seamus as they headed off to the next building that needed repairs.
“Have that shaman friend of yours brew tea? The last one she gave me knocked me out well,” Haggard suggested. Seamus shrugged. He had tried Dahlia’s tea, and they worked as intended. Still, the problem wasn’t that Seamus couldn’t sleep. It was that he was afraid of sleep, ever since the day after the Siege of Yorktown.
Nightmares would await him, reminding him of the day his clan fell, whispering that he was a failure and that he would die a painful death. The terrors also called him a murderer and freak, reminding him of his actions. Seamus didn’t like to sleep.
“Is something weighing on you, perhaps? Anything you want to talk about?” Haggard asked.
The young man shook his head.
“It’s nothing… really,” Seamus answered tiredly, waving off the problem. Haggard frowned a bit but didn’t continue as they approached the next building, the roof of which had caved in.
Haggard had been helping Seamus the last week and had at first seemed interested in Seamus’ actions during the battle. Of course, Seamus didn’t tell him much besides what everyone already knew. Still, Haggard had pressed the matter all last week, but Seamus always kept quiet about it. He didn’t want to think about it, nor recall it at all. It was a terrifying experience and a horrible one.
Seamus had told the storekeeper Kate that he was unconscious during the entire ordeal, that he didn’t remember a thing. It was sort of the truth. Seamus had passed out, and he had virtually no control. The thing was, however, Seamus had remembered the event. Sort of. Seamus recalled bits and pieces like a shattered and fleeting dream.
The worst part of it all, however, wasn’t that he knew what he was doing. It was that he had no control over it.
----------------------------------------
James shivered as he and Dahlia descended the path, his cloak flapping as the chilly winds hit him and the shaman.
“God, I hope it doesn’t get colder than this,” James commented as he tightened his cloak. He noticed a sly smile on Dahlia’s lips.
“This is definitely not the world for you if you already can’t handle the first week of Frost,” she responded in a laugh.
James groaned.
“Seriously? How cold does it actually get here?” he asked, the shaman hurrying up ahead of him as she dodged the question.
“Best not to know the answer to that,” she answered.
‘Sometimes, I’m glad you’re in control…’ Faust commented. ‘Better that you take on the cold instead of me.’
James could swear Faust was smiling as he spoke into his mind. The young blond man raised an eyebrow.
‘Can you even take control of my body anymore?’ James asked, knowing that the spirit had only ever tried twice since their fusion. Both times had failed, mainly because James was more in control of his body than Faust. Despite this, Faust could still control James’ body to an extent, an act that saved his life during the Siege of Yorktown.
‘It’s possible, perhaps, but I think it’s best I stay in your head, far from the cold and the awkwardness of you and that shaman,’ Faust teased. James could feel his face burn hot, hurrying up as he decided not to ask any more questions.
Yorktown was visible up ahead, the sky above the town still a dark gray from last week. James frowned, as he could now see the aftermath of his actions from then. There were more burnt and charred buildings than actual standing ones. He could spot some of the townspeople cleaning up the cobbled streets, which were still littered with ash and burnt debris.
The fire’s spread was much more severe than what James had initially thought. He could feel a shift in the mood, a serious tone now in the air. Dahlia had slowed to a walk as James caught up, a slight frown on her face as she looked at the town ahead.
“How long do you think until the town is fully recovered?” James asked.
Dahlia shrugged. “Maybe weeks or months… no one has come to the docks since the raid, so we’re going to be on our own for a while.”
As they entered the town, James looked around. He could see how some of the townspeople watched them both. James swore he spotted some malice in some of their gazes, almost as if they blamed him for this raid.
‘In a way… I am responsible for all of this.’
James felt a pang of guilt hitting him as he tried his best to focus on the path ahead.
“Not all of them blame you,” Dahlia said, noticing James’ shift in mood. “Some of them even say you’re a hero.” Dahlia’s words were comforting, but James knew he wasn’t a hero.
Dahlia had saved him from Havor, Seamus had taken down a group of marauders all on his own, and Haggard had saved Felix and Harald. All James did was get Thomas killed, whose death repeated in James’ mind, along with Havor’s.
‘You also destroyed that creature, the thing that had killed Thomas,’ Faust spoke out.
James frowned.
‘I guess, but I can’t help but feel as if that thing was our fault. It even knew my name.’
James was more than a little freaked out by the creature back when he had first seen it. The connection he felt with it reminded him of when he and Faust merged for the first time. The pain was definitely a call back to that night. It even seemed like there was more than one soul in its head. The desperate voice that came from its throat haunted James.
> “Kill me! Please… I can’t take it!” It had pleaded. “The voices… stop the voices, please!”
>
> “What do you mean voices?” James had asked the thing.
>
> “I… I’m supposed to be dead! The voices brought me back, but they forced me to kill people and... eat them. I just want to die, please!”
The voices had brought him back. That was what he had said to James. James shivered at the memory before burying it deep within his mind, not wanting to think about it any further. Dahlia’s shoulder then gently nudged him, nearly making the young man jump as he snapped away from his thoughts. They had stopped walking, Dahlia’s hand gesturing towards what looked like a longhouse, wood and stone supporting the structure.
“There’s the town’s hall, where the council is. Just walk in and ask for them. I’m pretty sure they’ve waited long enough for you.” Dahlia patted James’ shoulder, urging him to go. “I’ll be at the tavern while you’re in there.”
James grimaced at the idea of talking in front of the council, but decided that it would be better for everyone if he just got it over with.
“Any tips?” He asked the shaman.
“Just be respectful. Some of the council’s elders can be a little… Overbearing.” Dahlia looked as if she was recalling a memory, a hint of disdain on her expression. James sighed, deciding that he should get a move on before he backed out. He left the shaman where she stood, heading inside the longhouse through its large wooden doors.