James was met with oblivion, the experience akin to the mindscape he was used to. Yet now, there was no troubling spirit nor an infinite plane of water. He was floating in the void, faced with many stars that speckled the plane. Despite his absent knowledge of them, he recognized these constellations. From where, he did not know.
“Such an interesting outcome,” a voice called out. James could not respond and couldn't turn his direction to the source.
“Danger and death, flame and ice, what a varied fate you bring,” the voice said. It was that of a female. No, a male? James couldn’t tell. It almost sounded like a cacophony of sounds that resembled voices. A legion of noise that was somehow sentient. He couldn’t comprehend it.
As James tried to make sense of what he was experiencing, he noticed something off about the stars in front of him. One by one, the stars disappeared, engulfed by a darkness that was creeping closer to him.
“You disturbed the nature of life and death, son of Holter,” the voice murmured. “You are at grave risk, one caused by the hand of the shaman and yourself.”
James wanted to ask what the hell they were talking about. Grave risk? Wasn’t he already in danger? The marauders were enough, no? As he contemplated this, James noticed that the darkness had snuffed out nearly all the stars, its presence ever so closer to him.
“Take my warning and get out of this alive,” the voice called. “Otherwise, you’ll become something worse than you can imagine—a fate worse than death and infinitely more agonizing than the depths of hell.”
“Who are you?! Why do you know this?” James forced himself to call out. “What do you want?”
The voice was silent for a moment. As he waited for an answer, James felt the darkness reach him. Its icy touch was enough to make him lock up and gasp for air. The darkness gripped at his heart, reminding him of the stiff embrace of death once more.
“All I want is for you to live,”
James could only be silent as he was whisked away, sent back to the waking world.
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James opened his eyes, his lungs sharply taking air. He stared at the tent's roof, unsure of what he had just experienced.
‘It’s just a dream. Just another fucked up dream,’
Yet even he knew it could be more than that. Judging from what he had seen in his previous night terrors, anything was possible. James forced back a yawn as he sat up in his sleeping roll. His back ached painfully as his roll wasn’t really the most comfortable thing.
‘Still, it’s better than sleeping tied up in a chair.’
He looked around the inside of his tent. Seamus was snoring lightly on his side of the tent, sprawled into a position that looked very uncomfortable. James shrugged and looked to his left, where Dahlia had rested the night before. She was nowhere to be seen, her bedroll empty and her blankets shoved aside.
James reached for his torn jacket and slipped it on before crawling out of the tent. Despite a cloudy morning, the daylight was enough to make him cover his eyes. Once his vision returned to him, James could see how the fire from last night was relit. Right beside it was Dahlia, drinking what looked like steaming tea from a tin cup.
“You’re up late,” she commented before taking a sip out of her cup.
“Late? The sun’s barely up,” James commented. He sat beside her, his hands extending to warm themselves by the fire.
“What time do people usually get up on earth?” Dahlia scooted closer to him before offering her tin cup to James.
“Depends, really, but I usually get up later than this… That is, if I can get up in the morning,” James said. He carefully took the heated cup, sniffing the tea before taking a sip. It tasted like medicine, but it warmed him up nicely.
“Your world sounds strange,” Dahlia commented with a chuckle.
“What’s stranger is that we somehow understand each other,” James pointed out. The simple fact that his English was somehow understood had bothered him since his summoning. He never really had the chance to bring it up earlier. “How is it we both speak the same language?”
Dahlia raised an eyebrow at that. “You mean you haven’t noticed yet?”
“Notice what?” James asked with an equal amount of curiosity.
“You’re speaking Azuran right now,” Dahlia revealed. “The most common tongue in this part of the world.”
“Wait, what?” James couldn’t help but feel even more confused. He almost didn’t want to believe her. James could have sworn he had been speaking English this entire time. Hell, it felt like he was speaking it. Was she messing with him? Was Azuran somehow similar to English? “How? I don’t… what?”
“The ritual,” Dahlia answered simply. She turned her gaze to the flames of the campfire. One necessity of summoning demons is conversing with them to understand what they’re speaking of. To bypass that barrier, summoning rituals involving demons force their native tongue to that of the summoner. Since I summoned you, you were given the ability to speak Azuran, my native tongue.”
“Azuran…” James muttered. He looked down at his tin cup of tea, his thoughts circling back to when he had been summoned. He didn’t remember a point in time where his words had sounded weird out loud or felt strange after speaking. “This is so weird.”
“It is strange. You sound like a native despite the weird accent your words bring,” Dahlia admitted. “It’s not noticeable unless you speak out your strange sayings.”
“Strange sayings?” James asked.
“Yes, sometimes you’ll say things that make little sense,” Dahlia gently pried the tin cup from James’ hands. She took a sip before continuing. “Like when you told me you were made of all ears, or when you ‘bit the bullet,’ as you said. I could understand some of them, but others are…”
“Confusing,” James finished.
“Yes, Exactly,” Dahlia sighed. If you want to keep your status as an outlander secret, refrain from saying such things.”
James pondered on what the shaman was telling him. She was right in a lot of ways. He needed to be careful about what and how he said things. Dahlia had already told him what this world thought of outlanders. They were either plagues upon Azura or messages from the gods. Neither sounded good to him.
‘The last thing I need is a witch hunt on my ass. Or a group of cultists thinking that I’m their savior. Best if we keep my summoning a secret between all three of us,’
As James considered changing his way of speaking, he noted the shaman's gesture towards the pot in the middle of the fire. The pot steamed and shook, and the smell of its contents reached James’ nose.
“There’s some porridge I started making earlier. It should be ready now,” Dahlia pointed out before handing the man his wooden bowl from last night. James looked down at his bowl, which still had bits of stew from last night. Still, his growling stomach didn’t care much for a dirty bowl, so James ignored it.
Soon enough, both the shaman and the otherworldly man were having breakfast. Both were too focused on eating to notice Seamus joining them by the fire as he took their lead and grabbed himself a bowl.
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Havor watched as the ship burned, its deck nothing but flames as it slowly sank deeper into the sea. It reminded him of Serpent’s Bane when it sank, except this time, there was no live crew trapped in the burning ship. Havor sighed, turning away from the sight as Helen walked by, her face pale and guilt-ridden.
‘You can try to hide it, but I can tell you really didn’t want to kill anyone on that ship. You only attacked that mercenary to get on Deimos’ good side,’
Havor was more than bitter at her involvement. He had such high hopes for that fight, but she had ruined it because she didn’t want to kill any of the defenseless crew members. Havor hadn’t had a good fight in ages, not even during that Halvorson raid they did weeks ago.
‘I won’t find a good one, either, by moping about it. Besides, Deimos showed up just when she did. He would’ve made quick work of the mercenary even if she wasn’t there.’
The marauder turned his head to the man himself, who was on the Bloody Mary giving orders to his crew. Deimos looked calm and orderly, far from the man he had been the night before. Havor had seen Deimos do many things throughout the years, but he had never seen him be as brutal as he had been recently.
‘First, that poor bastard back in Yorktown. Now, that mercenary on the ship.’
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Havor recalled how personal Deimos had gotten with both of them, how he stared into their eyes as their souls left this world. Havor shivered, knowing that this newfound brutality had started around last month when they had raided and killed most of the Halvorson Clan.
‘Did killing Yorn do something to Deimos? Or is it something else?’
Whatever it was, Havor almost didn’t want to know.
“Havor!” Deimos’ booming voice reached the bald marauder, almost making him jump.
“Yes, Deimos?” Havor asked as he turned to the Bloody Mary.
“I’m going to leave you in charge of Frostbite and her crew,” Deimos stated, his hand stroking his beard.
“Why is that?” Havor asked, wondering what Deimos had in mind. In response, the marauder chieftain gestured towards Eli, who stood next to him with his crow familiar on his shoulder.
“Eli has informed me of someone who had escaped last night’s skirmish. They had been on the move in a rowboat and had recently gotten in contact with another merchant ship. I’ll be going to intercept them, make sure they don’t escape,” Deimos explained. “I’ll take the other marauders, so I’m leaving you and Helen to deal with the town. We’ll also leave you the other… rabble,” he gestured towards the deck of Frostbite, where the rest of the bandits argued over loot distribution.
Havor grimaced at the sight but turned to Deimos, nodding. “Yes, sir, we’ll make do with what we have.”
“You better. You’re only dealing with a small town that’s already scared of us. Don’t fuck this up, Havor. I’ll come back when we’re done with the runner. Hopefully, by then, you’ll have Seamus Halvorson on a silver platter and the town in flames. Otherwise, it’ll be your head,” Deimos warned.
Havor nodded, which Deimos took as confirmation. Soon, the marauders parted ways, the Bloody Mary sailing off into the distance as the Frostbite floated placidly in the black waters. Helen walked up to Havor, a confused look on her face.
“Where’s he going?” She asked, sitting on the railing.
“He’s going to tie up some loose ends. We are going to deal with the townsfolk tomorrow,” Havor explained. Helen looked at him quizzically.
“What if they give up the target willingly?” She asked. Havor didn’t look at her.
“We’ll still burn the island to the ground,” he said simply. His blunt answer caused the other marauder to stand up in protest.
“What? And kill all those innocents?!” Helen was braver now that she wasn’t under the watchful eye of Deimos and Eli’s raven.
“Deimos said to burn it down, so we’re burning it down!” Havor gritted his teeth and turned to the blonde woman. “Unless you want to deal with Deimos, I suggest you shut up and do your job!”
Helen opened her mouth to say something else. A second of silence followed, and instead of arguing, she wisely shut her mouth. She stormed off right after, her hands clenched into fists. Havor knew she was scared of Deimos, as any sane person would be.
Havor didn’t want to admit it, but he was also scared. He had no doubts that Deimos would gut any of them without hesitation. There was a reason why there were no ex-marauders. Havor swallowed his fear of the man and turned his gaze back to the open sea again, where the Bloody Mary sailed off into the distance.
“Just do your job,” Havor murmured again, not to Helen but himself.
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James slung his rucksack over his shoulder, his lungs breathing a breath of relief. Thankfully, packing up the camp wasn’t as difficult as he had expected. He attributed his newfound strength and stamina to one simple answer: honest to god sleep.
James had been without rest for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to sleep fully. Even in a raggy tent on rough ground, his body never felt better. It almost felt as if the gods themselves rejuvenated his body.
‘Or me.’ Faust chimed in.
‘Oh, fuck no, you cannot take credit for that.’ James angrily thought back. ‘I have been sleeping like shit for the past month, and last night was the first time I actually got to sleep a full eight hours.’
That prompted a response from Faust.
‘Say what you will. Just remember that I’m a part of you now and control how your body recovers.’
With that, the spirit went silent once more. James had already gotten used to these little banters with Faust, which had felt more normal as time passed.
“Are you two going to stand there all day, or are we going to keep moving?” Dahlia called out. “We only have one day until those marauders return, and I’m not keen on wasting it.” The shaman had her arms crossed, impatiently tapping her foot.
James sighed, remembering the whole reason they were out there. It was a grim reminder, but he knew they had little time to prepare.
“All right, then, let’s get a move on.” James gestured for Seamus to move, who responded with a tired groan. The trio would embark on their long walk, leaving behind the remnants of their campsite.
They walked through trees and steep hills for a while, avoiding getting caught up in deep snow banks and frozen creeks. James lost track of the time during their trek, his right hand instinctively rubbing at his left wrist.
‘Really wish I had bought myself that new watch.’
His old wristwatch had died on him a few weeks before his summoning. Getting a replacement was a task he had pushed to the back of his mind. James regretted not buying a new one. Having a digital timepiece in this techless world would have been useful.
Regardless, James could always look at the sun’s position for a rough time estimate. It wasn’t ideal, but what could he do? The tired man craned his head to look up at the sky… Which was covered in gray clouds.
“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “Does the sky ever clear up?”
“Sure, only when it’s not snowing, raining, or hailing,” Dahlia answered. There was a hint of a smile on her face as she glanced at James.
James knew very little of Valenfrost, but he doubted he would ever shake off the depressing atmosphere of this part of the world. It was getting hard to believe that anyone would actually want to live in the North. James gave a defeated sigh at the thought of never seeing the sun again.
“I think we’re almost there,” Dahlia said from the front of the group, gesturing towards something. James raised his head to see what she was looking at. He stopped in his tracks, his blood running cold.
“Are those…is that what I think it is?” James asked slowly. He stared at what looked like animal skeletons, every bone hanging from a branch in the tree line. Accompanying them were whole wolf corpses, strung up in full view as they decayed slowly. Some bones looked old, while others still had fresh blood staining them.
“What kind of person is this guy, Dahlia?” James asked. He felt Seamus bump into him from behind. As a result, the younger man snapped awake, his tired gaze groggily looking around.
“What? Why’d we stop?” Seamus asked. He looked around in confusion before he went still. “Are those bones?” There was a hint of fear in his voice, his words shaking slightly.
"As I already mentioned, he's been isolated for a while now," Dahlia muttered. She turned to the two men. “James, are you sure you want to ask for his help?”
James took another look at the bones and gulped. They needed this hermit’s help. Even if he had a couple screws loose, this guy was their only hope of finding a solution to their predicament.
‘What other choice do we have?’
James refused to give up Seamus to those marauders. It was something he never wanted to consider. He wasn’t much of a good person himself, but James would rather go through another fight with Deimos before he sent an innocent man to certain death.
“We came this far. Let’s not waste our only chance,” James said. With his choice made, he took a deep breath of the cold before walking again. Dahlia and Seamus followed behind, despite the latter's hesitation about moving forward.
The trio would walk through the unknown woods, which were now littered with hanging wolf carcasses and the remains of other creatures. James couldn’t even recognize some of the animals he spotted. After what seemed like an eternity of slowly walking through what seemed like Ed Gein’s art gallery, they all finally arrived at a snowy clearing.
James could see a wooden fence and gate ahead, which looked old and was clearly falling apart. He slowly approached the gate, both Dahlia and Seamus following close behind. James peeked over the fence, spotting a large wooden shack. It looked the same shape as the fence and gate, albeit without looking too dilapidated. James gently pushed the gate, which swung open with ease.
“That’s far enough,” a gruff voice stated behind the three.
‘Ah, shit.’
James tensed up, his head slowly turning around to the source of the voice. He came face to face with a man who was roughly his height. He was an older man, around his late fifties, if James had to guess. The stranger had his graying hair tied up behind his head, revealing a long scar on the left side of his face that was partially covered by his gray beard. He wore a rough brown shirt, ripped and frayed in spots.
The most important detail, however, was that this man had a bow trained on James, the taut arrow aimed right at him. James was still, his eyes wide as he tried his best not to make any sudden moves.
“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Dahlia explained, her hands up as she tried to de-escalate the situation.
“The blood on his clothes isn’t doing you any favors,” the man pointed out, prompting James to slowly look down at himself. His jacket and pants still had blood stains from the wolves they had fought last night.
“We encountered wolves last night,” James explained, hoping it was enough. The old man seemed to think for a bit, but his aim never faltered, causing James unease. He could feel Faust struggle uncomfortably inside his body, as if he wanted out.
“Why are you here?” The old man asked.
James took a deep breath, hoping that the next words out of his mouth wouldn’t end up with him getting an arrow pierced through his skull.
‘You could probably try to dodge it,’ Faust suggested.
‘Doubt I can dodge an arrow from this distance. Besides, I won’t survive a beating from this guy if I move fast enough.’
James looked at the man’s arms, which were much bigger than his own.
‘He could beat me to the pulp with little resistance.’
“We’re here for your help,” James slowly explained, keeping his hands visible and still. “Marauders came to Yorktown a day ago and threatened to kill everyone there and burn the island to the ground. We need help fighting back or somehow finding an alternative,” he quickly finished his explanation, hoping the man would soon lower his bow.
The old man muttered something before putting away his bow and arrow. He spat something brown onto the snowy ground before walking past James and to his shack.
“Follow me,” he grumbled, not saying another word as he walked off. James looked at Dahlia and Seamus. The latter of which was still seized up in fear.
“Let’s go,” he said simply before following the old man into his shack.