James peeked from behind the tent, his eyes scanning the area ahead.
“Anything?” Bjorn asked, prodding James with a poke from his ax.
“Hey!” James hissed, waving away the dwarf’s ax, rubbing at his side as he frowned. “Careful with that thing,” he complained, sighing as he peeked back at the camp. He could see some movement by the flaming part of the camp, his eyes making out the silhouettes of panicking goblins, buckets in their hands. James could see how more of the brutes joined the initial group of goblins, carrying what looked like barrels.
“They’re using water to snuff it out,” James muttered.
“Oof, terrible choice,” Bjorn commented, the dwarf peeking from the corner below James. “Water is fine for normal fires, but judging from those flames I see… It’s definitely magical.”
“Wait, water can’t snuff out magic fires?” James asked. He raised an eyebrow as he recalled the fires of Yorktown, which were caused by a combination of the torches and Fireball runes those marauders brought. The fires were only quelled by the rain that came later that night.
“Not really, just very difficult. Fireballs are a prime example of this since they’re made to be waterproof. Only a certified spellcaster can snuff any fire caused by a Fireball spell. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait for the flames to die out. But when it’s mixed with regular fire, it can be put out,” Bjorn explained.
James looked back at the dwarf, who was now moving out to the next tent, doing his best to remain unnoticed by the orcs ahead. James followed Bjorn’s example, running crouched to the next hiding spot.
“So, how can you tell it’s a magical fire?” James continued the conversation. He could feel how the temperature in the air continued to grow, making the man sweat under his steel helm.
“Look at the flames, kid. It should be obvious,” Bjorn replied, slowly moving to the other side of the tent’s exterior. James looked back at the initial fire he spotted, squinting as he focused on the flames. James could make out the small blue sparks at the edges of the flames, subtly hiding within them.
“Huh,” James muttered before feeling his cloak pull him back.
“Quit your gawking and get moving,” Bjorn voiced, letting go of the young man’s cloak. “I think we’re getting closer,” the dwarf added, sweat dotting his brow as he turned back to the next section of the encampment. Both men were nearing Haggard’s initial destination, which was supposed to be at what Bjorn assumed was the tribe leader’s base tent. James could see the nearby flames, which were growing closer to the forest west of the encampment.
“You think the fire will spread to the trees?” James asked in a whisper, turning to the dwarf.
“Not sure if I’m honest. Maybe it’ll burn some bushes and leave the trees alone. Then again, magical flames burn much brighter than regular fire. Good chance that a vern tree might ignite. If on the off-chance that one catches flame…” Bjorn trailed off. “Best we don’t find out,” he muttered. The dwarf peeked his head out of his hiding spot to check for any orcs. “We’re ready. Let’s move.”
The two hurried to the next group of tents; there was no sign of any orcs nearby. James felt the heat increase, the cold, hard snowy ground of the island now closer to sloshy mud. James was about to check for more of the green brutes before he was suddenly jerked away by the end of his cloak.
“Hey!” James complained before suddenly hearing voices.
“Where is he?!”
“Hell, if I know! Bastard disappeared around the tents!”
“Blood-Irk is going to have our heads! Dammit!”
“Maybe he left for the forest?”
“He couldn’t. We have other orcs defending the walls, no way for him to escape!”
James could hear the orcs arguing with each other, panic clear in their fading voices as they moved through the camp.
“They’re looking for him,” James spoke out in a low voice, turning to Bjorn. The dwarf seemed to ignore him, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear.
“We’re going to have to hurry before these bastards find us,” Bjorn muttered, his hand clenching onto his ax.
“We just have to find Haggard, and we can get the hell out of here,” James assured the dwarf, who sighed in response.
“Let’s just hope that the bastard doesn’t get himself caught before we get to him,” Bjorn murmured as he moved on through the group of tents, carefully hiding behind the orc’s makeshift barracks. James followed behind, making sure to keep himself low enough so as not to be spotted by any nearby orcs.
Before crossing another dirt path, James noted one of the huge steaming cauldrons he had seen from their vantage point earlier that day. The fire was still boiling its contents, steam rising from the cauldron. Upon squinting, however, he spotted something red by the edge of the pot. His eyes widened at the sight of a human-looking hand. It rested on the cauldron’s lip, the skin red and raw as it sizzled against the iron. James felt himself freeze up as he caught the view of it, his mind going blank as he felt his blood run cold.
“Have you had a look over here?” a voice suddenly called out, followed by a response.
“Not yet, but I am still checking these tents. You can check it out if you like.” The orc’s conversation snapped James out of his stasis, his feet forcing him to Bjorn’s position.
Once arriving, James could feel how his palms secreted with sweat, his heart beating through his chest as he rested against the tent. He felt like vomiting again, but his body refused to react, deciding only to send cold shivers throughout his body.
“Are you alright?” Bjorn asked, watching as James slid down to the ground.
“I’m fine,” James managed out. He could feel how his body surged with cold, undeniable rage.
‘They’re all going to die,’ Faust spoke out, his voice a terrifying calm. James’ body suddenly lost heat the next moment, a freezing cold surging throughout his insides.
“James?” Bjorn inquired once more, his voice gaining a sense of confusion as James shivered from the sudden change of temperature.
“I said I’m fine, Bjorn,” the young man wheezed out, almost as if he was out of breath.
‘Calm the hell down!’ James mentally shouted. He felt how the fingers on his left hand grew numb, more cold spreading throughout him.
‘I’m going to kill them all!’ Faust reiterated, his emotions seeping into James’ own.
James grabbed at his chest suddenly, feeling how anger and shock mixed, causing sharp, familiar pains that coursed through his heart.
“Fuck!” James hissed, gritting his teeth as his left hand suddenly grabbed at his short sword’s hilt, almost as if another entity was controlling it. James noted how his brain felt as if it was being stabbed, a feeling he recognized immediately.
‘No… Not now!’
This wasn’t a good time for another memory episode, especially with the orcs nearby. James fought against the spirit, more pain coursing through his mind as he clashed with Faust. He held back the urge to scream out in pain, his right hand clenching at his left arm as he fought with himself. He could hear Bjorn say something but couldn’t catch whatever the dwarf had said.
James felt his mind clash with Faust’s for the third time, his jaw clenching so tightly that it sent sharp pains throughout his skull. His body was in a limbo of hot and cold, the sudden changes making him sick as he struggled with the spirit.
‘If you’re going to be in my way, so be it! I’ll take over your body and kill them all myself!’
Faust was more than pissed, his anger alone making James physically recoil in surprise.
‘I’m not going to let you kill us all! We’re here for one thing! Don’t be an idiot!’
James felt his body drop to the ground after the fourth clash. He couldn’t even see right. His vision blurred and doubled. James fought with himself, trying his hardest not to pass out and give control to Faust. Another clash, this one making James grab at his head on instinct. The pain was getting unbearable, almost to where James would have to allow Faust to take over. Almost.
James slammed his fists to the ground, his fingers digging into the soil. He grabbed fistfuls of dirt as he fought with the pain and heat emanating from his eyes and left hand. Despite his eyesight being next to useless, he could still make out a tall figure coming up to him, the dwarf nowhere in sight. James could feel fear mixed into his bags of emotions as he knew the orcs had caught him.
He couldn’t even muster the strength to speak as he looked up at the figure. His mind gave up as the biting cold spread up his arm and into his body, Faust’s spirit seizing control. However, before the spirit could even throw James into the mindscape, the figure suddenly moved in on James. The last thing James saw before he went unconscious was an incoming fist.
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James was back in the mindscape, on his hands and knees, as blood dripped onto the water that covered every inch of this plane. He was currently bleeding from his nose, something he never expected to be possible in this place. James slowly picked himself up, wiping his nose and mouth as he looked at Faust, who was in the same position. James swallowed, blinking as he focused on the other man in this mindscape.
“Are you fucking insane?!” He shouted, feeling how his anger echoed in the infinite plane.
“I… I lost myself…” Faust muttered as he slowly stood up. “I didn’t mean to take over–”
“You killed us! You actually killed us!” James shouted, walking up to the Centurion in front of him. Without much of a warning, James punched Faust, the blow sending the other man back onto the floor. The water splashed in response, pain coursing throughout James’ own face. Still, James wasn’t focused on the pain.
“You goddamn idiot! There’s no way our little struggle didn’t catch the attention of an orc! Now we’re knocked out, awaiting some painful fucking death all because you couldn’t—!”
A kick to his leg interrupted James, forcing him to drop to his knees. Faust tackled James to the ground, water splashing all over as they struggled and fought. The fight started out with both sides getting in their fair amount of hits, but it soon turned one-sided. The young man had forgotten he was fighting a veteran Centurion with years of experience.
James could feel how Faust kicked his ass, the Centurion’s blows landing in his exposed areas and weak points. His defense was good enough for James to miss any meaningful punches, and his counterattacks were more than enough to nearly blind the younger man. There was no doubt that both parties were feeling the same amount of pain as each punch landed was felt by both men. Still, it didn’t stop Faust from beating the young man to a bloody pulp, each blow to James’ nose speckling more dark blood onto Faust’s armor and face.
James had given up at some point, letting the blows hit his now numb face. After a while, Faust had stopped, the Centurion panting heavily as he held James by the collar. James watched as Faust dropped him, the Centurion catching his breath as James lay back on the water, which was tinted with his blood.
“I’m sorry,” Faust managed out, his breathing slowing down as James slowly moved to sit up. “I’m so sorry…” the Centurion panted out once more, looking at James with a look of shame.
James spat into the dark waters, wiping his mouth as the pain slowly eased away. He could see how the blood in the water slowly dissipated, along with the blood on his sleeve. James touched his face, feeling his broken nose slowly mend itself. Both men caught their breath as the blood between them slowly dissipated.
James could still feel his anger towards the spirit, his hand clenching tightly as he held back the urge to start the fight over again. Despite his need to fight back and express his rage to Faust, James instead took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down.
“It’s not your fault,” he suddenly expressed, his eyes breaking away from Faust. “Your memories took over again… Just like last time…” Although James couldn’t see the Centurion, he was sure that Faust was staring at him. “Still, I can’t help but keep blaming you for it all. No matter how hard I try, I can’t help but be absolutely pissed.”
The Centurion was silent, the only sound between the two men being the heavy breathing they emitted.
“I’m sorry,” James suddenly muttered, breaking the silence. “I know you can’t control your emotions sometimes, and I have no right to blame you for the things you saw.” The young man touched his face again, the familiar feeling of blood gone from his skin. It had fully mended itself, his face now the same as it was before. “But I still can’t ignore the fact that you had put us at risk. Right now, we’re out there, passed out for god knows how much longer.”
As much as the young man wanted to retake his body, it was nigh impossible. He couldn’t force himself to wake, no matter how hard he tried. It was all left to Bjorn to drag his body to safety and hope for the best.
Both men were silent once again, with James looking down at his hands. He clenched them hard enough to feel his nails digging into his palms.
“It’s strange how we can feel in this mindscape,” James whispered, recalling how real the scuffle between him and Faust felt.
“Everything feels real here,” Faust responded, sighing as he looked up at the dark sky. James frowned, his head raising as he looked over at Faust. The Centurion had been stuck in this place ever since James and he fused, which had resulted in a battle of wills that ended in a truce.
“You’ve been stuck here for days. Possibly longer in your perspective,” James thought aloud. He recalled how time in the mindscape was weirdly warped, the time in here passing much more quickly than out there. The fact that Faust hadn’t completely broken and tried to take James’ body much earlier was a testament to his mental fortitude.
“It’s less lonely than you think,” Faust replied, brushing back his hair as he sighed. “I have my memories to keep me company.” The Centurion had his eyes cast downwards as he spoke, his hands resting on his knees. “I have the view of the outside world through your eyes and access to your memories from before you came to my world,” Faust admitted, a slight pause in his words as he looked at James. “Of course, I also have you to speak to.”
James was silent, unsure of what to think or say. Or both, since he couldn’t really think in this place.
“You really got the short end of the stick.”
“We both got short ends. The difference is that your end is longer than mine.” Faust waved off James’ words as if they meant nothing to him. “Still, I’d rather have you at the wheel. Even if we switched places, I would still be an outsider. I barely recognize this world now compared to what it was centuries ago.” The Centurion shook his head.
“No, I already had my chance at a full life centuries ago. You’re still young, with new friends and a new home. An entire person with his own soul. I’m just a shadow of Faust Desimir, destined to relive his memories.” Faust slowly stood up, groaning to himself. “I just hope my outburst didn’t doom us to a useless death.”
Faust then did something unexpected. He put his hand out to James, whose eyes stared at the Centurion for a good few seconds. The young man sighed before accepting the extended hand, moving to pull himself up.
“I’m still pissed at you,” James muttered as he stood back up. Despite their fight and current state of bad terms, James still had to deal with Faust for as long as he lived, lest he and the spirit end up killing each other.
“I wouldn’t expect less,” Faust responded, a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips.
Suddenly, the mindscape shook, a distant voice sounding out in the oblivion that was the sky.
“James? James, can you hear me?” The young man raised an eyebrow, doing his best to pinpoint the familiar voice. As the distant voice grew louder, James could sense how his body felt again. It was a feeling that subconsciously told him he could easily retake control again. He took one more look at Faust, who waved for him to go. James went towards the voices with no departing words, retaking his body once more.
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James slowly came back into the waking world, groaning softly as he looked around. His vision blurred as he sat up.
“There he is. Are you doing alright now?” A familiar voice sounded off, which caught James’ attention. James blinked a couple more times as he squinted at the source of the voice. It was the same tall figure from before, the one that had knocked him out.
“Haggard?” James muttered, his eyesight finally clearing as he looked up at the naturally grinning man.
“It worked, somehow,” a disgruntled voice spoke out, making James turn to see Bjorn nearby, guarding the entrance of a tent. James blinked once more, looking at his surroundings. They were currently inside a random tent, rags and cots spread out on the dirt ground.
“What… What happened?” James managed out, his hand touching a sensitive spot at his temple, right where Haggard had punched him.
“I had heard your babbling and commotion from my hiding spot, so I went to see if I could help. However, instead of finding a fight, I found you thrashing around, seizing up, almost like you were fighting yourself,” Haggard explained. “And your eyes…”
“They were glowing,” Bjorn finished with a mutter, the dwarf looking at James with a curious look. “I guess the shaman wasn’t bullshitting when she said you were trapped in with another spirit.”
“Another spirit?” Haggard asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a long story,” James groaned, moving to stand as Haggard snapped his eyesight between both men.
“So no one clued me in on a secret? Especially one like this.” The older man turned to James, his eyes looking down at the young man with a glint of curiosity. “I knew there was something different about you, but this is entirely something else.”
“I can tell you the entire story when we leave,” James reiterated, his eyes looking for his missing steel helm.
“Leave? Have you not seen the orcs guarding the walls? Besides, we can’t retreat yet,” Haggard pointed out, causing confusion in James as he looked towards Bjorn. The dwarf blinked, realizing that he hadn’t clued in Haggard about the ship.
“Right. Forgot to tell him about it,” Bjorn muttered.
“Tell me about what?”
“We secured ourselves a longship with the help of some prisoners. It’s waiting by the docks,” James explained, his hand picking up his steel helmet, which he found on the ground.
“Longship? You crazy bastards!” Haggard laughed, his palm impacting James’ back with some force.
“We’re crazy?” James managed out, arching his back as he felt the sting of Haggard’s slap emanate across his back. “Weren’t you the one who nearly blew the northern encampment to kingdom come?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.
Haggard raised his hands in defense. “Wasn’t me. Well, not exactly. I was trying to cause a fire with one of their oil barrels, but one of those bastards found me out. To make a long story short, we ended up setting all of their barrels aflame.”
“And you’ve been hiding here all this time?” Bjorn asked.
“Yes and no,” Haggard responded, turning to face the dwarf now. “I’ve been trying to kill these brutes’ leader, Blood-Irk.” The older man raised his cloak, exposing a cut in his chainmail, a half-bandaged wound underneath it. “Bastard is smarter than he looks and a lot stronger than I had expected,” Haggard muttered, his joyful demeanor replaced with that of contempt. “He’s been hunting me since before the sun disappeared over the horizon.” James stared at the wound, unsure if they really had a chance of taking on this orc.
‘Sometimes, it's alright to run away from a fight,’ Faust’s voice muttered.
‘Should we?’ James asked the spirit, his primary worry being that the orc would surely harm more.
‘Blood-Irk will kill even more people if we die fighting him. Not to mention that we’re running out of time before the longship leaves us behind,’ the Centurion pointed out.
As much as James wanted to stay and fight, he took the spirit’s advice.
“We’re going back to the ship and getting the hell out of here,” James stated, moving to grab his shield, which was resting near the tent’s canvas.
“What? We’re just going to leave this asshole here?” Haggard asked. “After everything he did?”
James sighed as he strapped on his shield, tightening it onto his left arm. “Haggard, have you ever backed out of a fight you know you can’t win?”
“Of course I have, but this is different! We can take him on together! We can—”
“James has a point.” Bjorn interrupted, scratching at his beard. “As much as I want to bash in that bastard Blood-Irk’s skull, there’s a good chance we’ll die. I think it’s best we retreat to the ship now and come back later.”
“Haggard,” James started, his gloved hand pulling his cloak off. “You have two choices right now. You can try to fight Blood-Irk, possibly be killed in the process… Or you can come with us and get off this island. Whatever the choice, just know that Bjorn and I are going to the ship, with or without you.”
James didn’t really mean the last part since Haggard was the entire reason they were there, but he didn’t have enough time to argue with the other man while the longship back at the port was preparing to leave in mere minutes. Haggard seemed to mull over his options, clear hesitation painted onto his face as he silently cursed. James watched as Haggard brushed back his loose black hair before a long, tired sigh came out of him.
“Fine. The second choice.”