The argument between Boscun and Kaad heated up. With a grimace, the giant rose up to snatch the bag, but Kaad skipped out of reach. He was only ten yards away from me, and I found that I’d drawn my stilettos. It was a strange experience to realize there were unintended knives in my hands, and that I was prepared to use them. I didn’t want to make an irrevocable decision without knowing more about the situation, though.
Kaad danced around the campsite, teasing Boscun with the bag’s contents. He poured something into his hand and pretended to offer—I enchanted my eyes for a closer look—the glossy black flakes to the giant.
Back in my old world, I would’ve guessed it was obsidian, but here I recognized the material as darklight. It was the remnants of broken cores, but somehow treated so the darklight didn’t dissipate.
Boscun gestured at the children. He seemed to want to use the darklight on them. Kaad shook his head, the tone of his voice mocking. They appeared to be at an impasse, but that was a misunderstanding on my part. As time passed, it became clear that Kaad held the advantage. The longer Boscun chased after Kaad, the more blood seeped into his bandages. Eventually, he grew tired and had to sit.
Kaad’s voice took on a more conciliatory tone. He walked toward one of their packs and pulled out a small pouch, which he threw to Boscun.
The giant caught it and listened, a mulish expression on his face. He didn’t look happy and wasn’t afraid to let Kaad know it. Eventually though, he began to nod along, and the two men came to an agreement. Boscun poured a white powder from the pouch into his hand and swallowed it. A few minutes later, he was sound asleep.
Kaad shook his head, like a man forced to work with imperfect tools. He climbed up into the walnut tree to watch over the area. Once Kaad was out of view, though, Boscun opened his eyes and glared up at where Kaad sat in the tree. The giant threw the white powder he’d palmed aside, along with the pouch, before going back to pretend-sleep, his eyes half-lidded. He lay on his side, his back to the fire, to keep an eye on his partner. The children were safe for now.
The uekisheile asked, Question-hunger-satiation? Hunt-hunt-hunt?
Were the children slaves? If so, did I need to kill the slavers in order to free them? Uncertainty-uncertainty-uncertainty, I replied.
I gripped my stilettos, thinking fast. The craziest scenario I came up with was that the children were, in reality, criminals of a race that only looked like children, and that they were being brought to justice by Boscun and Kaad. Except… the kids still had Meliune’s Blessing, which meant they weren’t even Level 1 yet. They’d stopped struggling now that the argument between Boscun and Kaad was done, and sat on the ground, dispirited. No, the simplest and most reasonable explanation was slavery.
I’d wondered about it during the quiet nights by the fire in the Glen: about the unknown realities of this world. How would I respond if there was slavery? Human sacrifice? If I saw a parent beating their children, and it was perfectly within their rights to do so, what would I do?
I hadn’t arrived at any answers then, but I had one now. The sight of the children in chains made it real—I wouldn’t allow a child to be hurt, not if I could help it. If there was an opportunity to intercede, I would. If not, well, I didn’t have an answer for that yet. In this case, though, I had an opportunity.
The uekisheile asked again, Question-hunt-question?
Hmm… there was a way to save the children, but the plan required caution-quiet-stealth.
The uekisheile sprouted tufts on my hands and face to sense what was happening, but I gently asked them to hide-hide-hide when anyone else was around. I wasn’t sure how I’d even begin to explain the colony of intelligent lichen living inside me to people. Maybe it was the kind of thing that happened all the time, but I didn’t think so, and I definitely didn’t want to risk scaring the kids.
I eased back and circled around the campsite. Fortunately, Boscun had thrown the pouch of sleeping powder into the bushes behind him, away from where Kaad sat in the tree. I found it under a fern, the drawstrings still tight. The powder inside was grainy and smelled of ammonia. It wasn’t a strong scent, and I hoped it’d be overpowered by the corn, sage, onion, and game meat in the stew cooking over their campfire.
The fire was to the left of Boscun and a little behind him. He’d have to crane his head around to see anything in that direction, but any sound would instantly give me away. I scanned the ground in between to plan the quietest route, and checked the breeze to make sure he wouldn’t smell me either. Only once I was ready did I gently push through bushes and out into the open.
Step by slow step, I crept toward the fire.
The children were chained to the walnut tree, and they had an unobstructed view of the camp. Their eyes went wide when they saw me approach. I gestured for them to keep quiet, but something about the way they moved caught Boscun’s attention. He looked their way. The children quickly glanced down and huddled together for comfort. Boscun snorted at their antics, then resumed pretending to sleep and surreptitiously watching his partner instead.
My heart beat a thousand times a minute, but I had a firm grip on one with the land.
I dumped the sleeping powder into the stew and carefully gave the pot a stir. Mischief managed, I edged back toward the bushes. The children didn’t say a word; they only snuck peeks in my direction.
Now, I had to wait until the two men ate their meal. Once the sleeping powder took effect, I planned to find the key to the chains and escape with the children. I circled back around the campsite, so that I could keep an eye on both Boscun and Kaad.
After a while, when nothing happened, I entered a light meditative trance, and that helped occupy the time. The uekisheile enjoyed it too.
The sun was almost directly above us when Kaad finally clambered down from the tree. He checked the children’s chains before squatting down by the fire to pour himself a bowl of stew. I thought he might try to wake Boscun to eat, but he didn’t. Kaad let the giant ‘sleep.’ That is, until he went to take a bite of the stew.
Kaad sniffed at the bowl, then looked at Boscun in surprise. The expression passed in an instant, replaced by hardened eyes. Kaad nodded to himself, and muttered something… innocuous, the tone at odds with his body language. He made blowing noises, as if to cool the stew. Meanwhile, he carefully set the bowl down and drew his knife.
Horrified, I almost stood up and yelled that Boscun didn’t do it. My clever solution had turned out to be not so clever, and the only way to stop it from devolving into murder was to expose myself. But I didn’t. I gritted my teeth and let the events play out uninterrupted.
Boscun must’ve sensed something was wrong, because he flipped around, his own knife in hand. Suddenly, they were on each other like dogs rolling on the ground. Their knives flashed without hesitation, and their unfettered will to kill left me stunned.
They grunted and strained against each other, but neither yelled out, even as blood stained the ground under them. The fight only lasted a vicious handful of seconds, but in the end Kaad’s armor made the difference, turning the point of Boscun’s knife away from vital organs.
When Kaad stood up, Boscun stayed down, his torso covered in new stab wounds. Not that Kaad got away scot-free. His left arm hung limp—the brigandine had short sleeves—and blood ran down his neck from a cut above his left eye.
Kaad wiped his eye clear and kicked Boscun’s body. Once. Twice. He spoke angrily to the dead man, and kicked yet a third time. Then, still furious, he knelt to cut into what was left of the big man’s chest. He slid his hand in between the ribs to pull out the core. It was the size of a large marble, glistening with blood and darklight, and flecked with bits of silver.
He stomped back to the campfire, set the core aside, and rummaged in his pack for first-aid supplies. There was a kit that unrolled to reveal bone needles, pouches of medicine, and a stoppered clay bottle. Kaad poured the contents of the bottle onto his shoulder.
If there was a time for me to attack, it was while Kaad was injured and distracted. I was thinking about it when—between one moment and the next—Kaad appeared in front of me, his knife plunging toward me.
I didn’t have time to react, or to say anything or do anything. The knife slid between the links of my armor, through the jacket under it, and into my chest. My breath caught—he’d pierced my left lung.
Kaad grabbed me by the neck to lift me up. His face distorted—at first in anger, but then in surprise when he saw me bleed red. I kicked and struggled, but he was too strong. I couldn’t breathe.
His confusion cleared—I could almost see the gears turning, the dots connecting, as he realized I wasn’t a little plant horror and that I could’ve been the one responsible for putting the sleeping powder in his stew. His face twisted in rage. He’d been crying; there were tears mixed in with the blood around his eyes.
Inside me, the uekesheile’s qi rang in alarm. Their tufts sprouted along my face and arms to defend me. They surprised Kaad, and gave me a moment to recollect the land, to steady my emotions, and to bring focus to my thoughts. The mana rushed through me like a bitter wind, and I Cold Snapped his eyes.
He screamed and let go. Clawing at his eyes, he didn’t see me draw my hunting knife. His brigandine didn’t cover his lower body, so I stabbed him in the crotch. Like a door suddenly slammed shut, he bent over. His neck came within reach and was unprotected, so I cut into his carotid artery. Hot blood, tasting of iron, sprayed my face.
Kaad grabbed at me, but I slid away. Having missed me, he clamped the wound in his neck with his hands to stop the bleeding. I wanted to stab him again, but the world began to spin around me.
Conditions Bleeding (3), Lethal Wound (*) |
I cast Healing Water onto my waterskin and poured the contents inside my shirt, both before and after I pulled the dagger free from my chest.
Conditions Bleeding (1), Lethal Wound (*) |
I took a breath, but coughed up blood. It took the whole of the waterskin’s contents to breathe again and for the lethal wound entry to disappear from my Status. Kaad, in the meantime, stumbled back toward the first-aid kit. I didn’t think it’d help him, but I wasn’t prepared to take the chance. I picked up my spear and went after him.
Even as injured as he was, Kaad was fast. He heard my approach and spun around to knock my spearhead aside. That meant letting go of his neck, though, and blood sprayed out, staining the ground under the walnut tree. He tried to grab the spear, but his vision was still impeded. I continued to harry him and kept him too busy to stop the bleeding.
Eventually, he stumbled, falling to his knees, and he stayed that way until, moments later, he bled out and died.
