“What the hell was that?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
Angela and Gypsy were interrogating Jackson after he released them. They were all still dressed in their nightgowns, all shaking slightly at his strange behavior. Jackson had recovered and wanted to forget about it. He didn’t even know how to explain what he’d been going through.
“Jackson, what is going on with you? You’re waking up most nights in a cold sweat, disappearing for hours to clear your head, and you look pale. The mere idea of sleep is clearly causing you pain, and your drinking has increased. What is going on dear?”
Gypsy spoke slowly, pointing out his changes. Jackson shook his head, bit his lower lip and paced.
“It’s nothing.”
He started to head for the door when his path became blocked by a rather large sword impaled into the wall. Barbara had thrown it from across the room, a slightly, out of character, irritated look covered her face. He didn’t need her to speak to know she wanted answers as well. Jackson rubbed his head and paced some more.
“Jackson, just answer the question?”
“Bad dreams.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Yes, really, really bad dreams.”
Jackson tapped the desk, still pacing as he thought of the best way to put it. Gypsy and Angela looked confused, yet Barbara for once did not. Jackson guested she might have a similar problem as him.
“There not normal dreams. It’s the Berserker. It keeps coming to me in my dreams, saying we’re the same. Sometimes we fight, sometimes it shows me things, things best left forgotten.”
On the word Berserker, Gypsy looked to Barbara. Her face was cold, but again she didn’t look clueless. Jackson noticed her gaze and shook his head. They couldn’t bluntly talk about her with Angela in the room.
“Coming to you in your dreams? Like some sort of PTSD?”
“No, yes, maybe. It feels so real. It speaks to me, says things. Show me things I can’t know and has killed me several times.”
“Speaks to you? What does it say?”
“It says the word: Same. It likes to say we’re the same.”
“Okay, calm down. Let’s say the Berserker’s in your head. How would it get there, is it psychic?”
“No, no it not. Its madness incarnate. Madness and death. You should hear its true voice.”
“It must all be in your head. It took your arm and leg, not to mention left you looking like you lost a fight with a blender. And, even if it not, how would it get into your head?”
“Wurms.”
Barbara said the one word, and Jackson almost collapsed as he remembered.
“Wurms?”
“The Wurms. Of course, the Wurms! Damnit!”
“What happened with the Wurms?”
“When we were attacked by Wurms, the Berserker appeared.”
“You told me, it killed five Wurms in a few seconds.”
“Yeah, after it… fused with Jackson. It was strange. I was scared out of my mind, he was almost in a coma, beaten half to death by those giant beasts and then…”
“I forgot. I didn’t even think about it. Right after the Wurms is when it started.”
“Are you telling me, him and the Berserker became one and the same?”
“Yeah, they did.”
“How is that even possible?”
“My magic and the Berserker’s might be similar or the same. Also, I think it wants something from me. Sadly, it won’t say what.”
Barbara gulped, turned slightly red, then hid her face. Her inability to talk annoyed Jackson at that moment. She must have known what it wanted, what it was pushing for. Whatever it was, it embarrassed her which only made it more annoying.
“Okay, what do we do about it?”
“I’m going to get medicine. The kind that stops dreams. That’s how it is attacking, so I’ll cut off that route.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know yet. I need time to think.”
Angela was growing red in the face, Gypsy kept shooting Barbara nervous glances, and Jackson was reaching the end of his rope.
“Before we go any further, is there anything else I should know?”
Angela said, fighting back the need to strike Jackson. She felt like fusing with what was considered a natural disaster to be something a little too important to forget. Angela didn’t want any more surprises.
“No.”
Jackson said flatly. As a hero sent to kill the Berserker, telling her she been sleeping with it might end very badly. If the Berserker was unleashed fully in town, more than likely it would level it before Jackson could stop it. So, for now he’d keep it a secret.
“Okay then, let’s go get the medicine.”
Angela started to lead the way. Jackson moved over to Gypsy and whispered in her ear.
“Take a knife and get her outside of town. One cut should do it. If the blood turns to armor, rip it off and stop the bleeding. That should stop the Berserker before it starts running wild.”
“If it doesn’t?”
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“Come get me. I need to know if she still has it or not.”
Gypsy nodded and took Barbara’s hand as Jackson followed Angela. As they headed out into town, Jackson saw Kevin sitting with Scarlet again. He been coming every day and wasting all his money on her. Jackson remembered that noble that charged up to her in twin peaks and wondered if Kevin would follow suit. If so, Jackson had to be there to protect her.
Gypsy brought Barbara into the forest on the southern side of the town. If it went badly, she figured tree would make it easier to flee. She had explained in simple terms what they were going to do, and said she believed it would help Jackson. Barbara, most reluctantly followed.
“Okay, now dear, give me your hand.”
Gypsy spoke kindly, hoping to not piss her off before the Berserker possibly started to rampage. Barbara snatched the knife from her and slit her own wrist. Gypsy moved too slow to stop her and watched in amazement as the blood started to turn into armor. Following her instructions, Gypsy ripped it from her skin, which was not an easy task. It took all her strength to stop the glove from forming, and Barbara didn’t seem to want to help. Instead she just watched her friend struggle. Once the armor was off, she wrapped the wound in tight bandages, hoping that would stop it. After waiting for ten minutes, she concluded it did work and they set off to report back to Jackson. Barbara looked once to the bandage and felt the wound close and the beast return to its rest. She gulped down her worries and hoped this information would help in some way.
“…What’s the Berserker’s weakness?”
“Where did this come from?”
“Well you seem so scared of it, and everyone freaks at the name. So, I want to know how to fight it. How come you survived? What’s the secret?”
Jackson paused to think about Angela’s question. Part of him didn’t want to reveal something that could get Barbara killed, but as a hero could help battle it if it ever went out of control again. Barbara’s healing was also incredible, making her almost immortal.
“The Berserker is the scariest thing I have ever faced. It turns the area around it into a living hell. I survived because the need to live kicked in full force. That fight, when I lost my arm and leg, I wasn’t scared. My mind had gone numb, all I cared about was killing it. In a way, I became just like the Berserker. However, there is a trick to fighting it.”
“Like a weakness?”
“No. The Berserker doesn’t have something so convenient, but there is a trick to it. First, you must remove the armor. That is the hardest part. It stronger than iron and is almost unbreakable for a normal person. I barely can, using every ounce of strength I have with body strengthening. It also regrows over time, so even if you chip away at it, if you take too long all your work will be undone. If you can get the chest plate off, that’s a big if, you need to cause so much damage it stops healing its armor and focuses on its body.”
“So, if we keep it in that state, we can kill it?”
“I don’t know. I ripped its chest open and grabbed its heart. The Berserker’s still kicking. I don’t think it’s possible to kill it.”
“If it bleeds, it can die!”
“What if it doesn’t bleed?”
Angela stopped walking and stared at him. Jackson was hiding the fact the armor and blood were one and the same. That meant the Berserker bled a lot, but the wounds would all healed and the main body would be protected. The more he thought about the Berserker, the more he realized how lucky he was to have survived.
“Mine!”
The crazed Barbara’s word came back to him in that moment. Maybe it wasn’t luck. Then, what was it? Could it have been planning something from back then? The thought of that insane thing being able to plan scared Jackson more than the fact he was seeing it in his dreams. How could a ball of madness think so clearly?
“Hey, hurry up!”
“Right.”
Jackson snapped at Angela, trying to get the medicine as fast as he could. The sooner he put this behind him, the faster he could start focusing on the fact they were to head west to another empire. Not just to any other country, but the beast men country. The small nerd that still existed inside Jackson was looking forward to seeing what real animal people looked like. He wondered if they had human ears, or maybe two sets. Another part of him wondered if they’d have tails. How much animal was there versus how much human. And, a part of Jackson wanted to learn the history of the beast men, to learn of their origins.
Jackson found it slightly irritating that he had been in another world for over three months, yet he hadn’t seen a single beast man or woman. Mostly because the brewing storm, they kept to their borders and rarely ventured out. Merchants had to travel to the beast men’s border just to acquire goods, making them more expensive in land. It was also a crime to try and venture into their territory without an invitation. Some had bought invitations in order to travel and sell their wares deeper into that land, while others snuck their way in. Had Jackson been a traveler instead of an adventure, he’d done just that. The different would have been, unlike the sneak and cunning merchants whom managed, he would had had to fight anytime he was discovered.
The herbalist was taken back by one of the heroes walking in with what he considered his best customer. A rather small, and meek looking old man with large glasses making his eyes triple in size, the herbalist looked to have been the unholy child of a goblin and an elf. His ancestry made him adapt at performing magic and creating potions and medicine. This was not to mention the years he committed to learning the art, and the trials overcome for his passion. It was one of the greatest shames that such a determined man, whom over come so much now only owned a shop on a border town due to the circumstances of his birth. No matter how beaten down the herbalist might have become, he still continued to do what he loved and had earned the respect of the town’s people whom called him family.
Jackson explained he was suffering nightmares, lying about it being a result of losing half his limbs to the herbalist. He asked for medicine to help him sleep and prevented dreams. The little half goblin nodded and went to the back. Jackson looked to his lost arm, the greatest reminder of how hard this world was and how cruel. It was also hard not to have self-pity while looking to such a thing. Even in this shop, without the dreams, it still felt like yesterday that he battled the Berserker for the first time. He could still feel the rain dripping down his bloodied body, the pain as he refused to die a pathetic death, the rage of watching so many decent knights die, and the fear he’d soon join them in a nameless grave.
“Here you go sir.”
“Thank you.”
Jackson passed several silver coins to the herbalist and looked at the two bottles. They were each about a gallon, one a rich honey color while the other a deep, dreamy silver.
“This one will stop you from dreaming, and this one will make sleep easier. No more than one cup of each a night.”
“Yes sir.”
“Wait one moment lad.”
Before Jackson could leave, the goblin disappeared to the back again. Jackson waited, taking in the different plants for sale around the room. Each kept in a nice glass jar, and clearly labeled, with a price right below the name. Books on healing magic, herbalism, potion making, and prayer books were piled on the floor. Jackson had once thought about buying some of them, but his low magic affinity would have made it more of a pain than learning the old magics.
“Here you go, free of charge.”
The old man returned, lugging two, one-gallon jugs of red healing potion. It was slightly deeper color than Jackson was used to seeing.
“Made a slight mistake to the batch, then remembered how much you bought over the past few weeks. It a little stronger than normal, but the side effects are also stronger. If you’re planning on fighting, wait at least an hour after taking a sip. If you’re lucky, it won’t paralyze you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jackson was taken back; the surprise was shown on his face. Angela moved to take the two new jugs in one hand. Being a hero, her strength was almost unequal, except by other heroes and high-ranking knights and adventures. Jackson struggled for a moment to get the handles for his medicines but lifted them a moment later. Jackson didn’t know how to express his gratitude for such a gift. Not that long ago, Jackson had been bed ridden and it was the Herbalist’s potions that had sped up his recovery. To receive it for free, even if it was an off batch, was like receiving life itself. The old man just smiled, taking all he needed from the expression that had overcome Jackson’s face.
The herbalist watched as Jackson left, and wiped a tear from his eye. He had met many men, some greater than others. He’d healed many, supported others, was betrayed by some and failed to save a few. He considered himself an expert on people due to all this combined experience. He sometimes scolded himself for how conceded he could be, but at this moment he could tell. He could tell that Jackson had barely started his journey, and his suffering was a long way from off. The half-goblin had met a few men like Jackson before, men who gave so much to the battlefield and continued to return to it no matter the price. The herbalist knew, that if Jackson didn’t change, he’d die on some nameless field, fighting a battle he could never hope to win for people who he’d never know. It happened so many times before, it hurt the old man to watch it happen again. It was that reason he gave Jackson the healing potion, in a final hope of slowing down the tragedy.