Rise of the Isekai Hero

A LitRPG Fantasy

Jason Marino

Copyright © 2024 by Royal Guard Publishing LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Chapter 1

Games and Gateways

The door smashed open, and three more bugbears barreled in—hair, muscle, and hardened leather armor—brandishing massive, spiked clubs.

“That makes five of them!” Alaric backpedaled, eyes wide. “Should I fireball them?”

“Cast anything!” Lissandra screamed, fury blazing in her eyes. She swung her two-handed axe at the nearest bugbear’s head. It ducked, dodging the blow, then retaliated with a crushing swing of its club.

Lissandra had no armor to absorb it, and the sharp retort of cracking bone echoed through the chamber.

But she didn’t stop; she couldn’t. Lost in uncontrollable rage, she charged, muscling the bugbear backward. Yet now she was surrounded by the newcomers, and her left arm hung limp from the blow.

Then everything happened at once.

Dave’s healing spell flashed, striking Lissandra’s shoulder with soothing green light. Some of the bleeding stopped, but her arm still dangled uselessly.

Lissandra swung her axe one-handed, burying the blade into the chest of a bugbear. Blood sprayed across the room in a crimson arc.

Alaric finally finished his spell, hurling a fireball into the midst of the bugbears. It exploded, engulfing them in flames … and catching Lissandra in the inferno.

The fifth bugbear rushed the wizard, its club slamming into Alaric’s head and sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.

Dashfoot seized the moment, leaping from the shadows and driving both daggers into the exposed back of the bugbear. He rode it down as it collapsed, dying.

The remaining bugbears beat out the flames licking at their armor and stepped over Lissandra’s smoking, motionless form.

Dave and Dashfoot backed away slowly, outnumbered and outmatched, and the door through which they’d entered had sealed behind them.

“Let’s call it there for tonight,” I said with a sigh, leaning back in my chair.

“Total party wipe again?” Samir asked, disgusted, then he drained the last of his Mountain Dew.

I nodded. “Yep. Sorry.”

I sympathized with Samir; he was one of the more competent players around the table. But that wasn’t saying much.

Derek leaned in, looking at Mike. “Why’d you run in when I was about to cast my spell?”

“Barbarian, dude. Full-on rage queen, right?” Mike shrugged. “Just playing the character.”

“You don’t technically have to be where the fighting is fiercest,” Harry said, neatly tidying away his dice into their box, each in its own little slot based on shape. “You could’ve gone for any enemy and still stayed within the rules of a barbarian.”

“Exactly!” Derek said, exasperated. “If you’d just attacked the one that hit me⁠—”

“It was already too late,” Mike protested. He turned to me. “Nigel, how are we supposed to deal with five bugbears?”

“You’re not,” I said, pulling down my Dungeon Master screen to see them better. “But when the party rushes in without doing even basic skill checks first…” I trailed off with a one-shouldered shrug.

“…We get wiped again,” Harry finished for me.

“Doesn’t help that the wizard wasted a full round wondering which spell to cast,” Samir muttered.

“Doesn’t help that the thief didn’t even do a simple listen check before we went in,” Derek shot back.

I raised my hands. “Guys, guys. It’s just a game, okay? Let’s reset next week and go back to the start of this dungeon. Maybe have a think about your tactics?” Maybe—just maybe—develop some tactics.

“Alright, Nige.” Harry gave me a smile, standing up and swinging his backpack onto his shoulder. “Thanks for hosting.”

“Yeah, thanks man,” Mike added. “Are we getting better at least?”

No, not really. “Sure.” I nodded encouragingly. “Just try to … picture what’s happening, and go with what your characters would do.” Not what you would do.

“Cool. Good tip, thanks.”

Like I hadn’t given it to them every week we’d played.

The guys traipsed out, still arguing amongst themselves, leaving me with the detritus of empty pizza boxes, beer cans, and Mountain Dew bottles.

Man, this group was a lot of work. They were getting worse, not better. It was like they were stuck in some loop of poor decisions and frustration. No one ever listened, and no one ever seemed to care about tactics, which was the whole damn point. Maybe I needed to take them back to basics. Encourage the occasional search roll. I might entertain the fantasy of replacing them with competent, tactically minded players who didn’t need ten minutes to figure out how many dice to roll, but … D&D just wasn’t that popular these days.

Maybe I was wasting my time trying to teach people who didn’t care. But then that was the story of my life—spinning aimlessly like a hamster in a wheel. Was this all I had going for me? Living alone in a small apartment. A mind-numbing job. Friday nights spent with pizza-stuffed, beer-breathed amateurs who couldn’t even strategize their way out of a paper bag?

Was this all there was? Was it really worth it?

I sighed and started cleaning up.

The surface of the polished table started glowing with a soft, purple light.

That was … weird.

I stopped, staring at the swirling reflection, an empty pizza box still in hand. The light was growing brighter by the second. But where was it coming from? I didn’t own any purple bulbs.

Glancing around the room, my brow furrowed. Twisting shadows filled my small apartment as the purple glow glinted off various surfaces as I turned: the lamp on the side table, the screen of my brand-new, very large television, and even a clear patch of wall opposite me. But that could only mean…

Oh. I looked down at myself.

A white-and-purple spark of … something hovered before my chest, blinding in its brightness.

I stepped back in reflex. It didn’t so much follow as keep its relative position as if I hadn’t moved at all. I retreated another pace, panic rising, and swatted at the light with the pizza box. It passed right through it. Of course it did; it was just a light. What had I expected?

Then the purple glow darted inside me.

I froze, breath catching, eyes wide, staring at where the light had just been. It was inside me. Was I imagining this? Had I finally OD’d on Mountain Dew and started hallucinating? I spun. Had it come out the other side?

A wrenching, visceral tug shot through my core as if unseen hands yanked at every muscle, twisting and pulling me in directions my body wasn’t meant to go. Not just in my chest but everywhere—my gut, my head, my arms, my legs.

I gasped, the breath strangled in my throat. Invisible hands seemed to clamp down on every part of me. The force wasn’t human. It wasn’t natural. My muscles strained, but I couldn’t fight it. It felt like I was a marionette on the end of a puppeteer’s string, jerked all ways at once. There was no clear direction. A sickening wave of helplessness washed over me. My body wasn’t mine anymore; I had no control.

My heart slammed against my ribs in a wild rhythm, each beat louder and faster than the last. The ice of pure terror spread through my veins.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

My back snapped into an arch as I was yanked upward, legs trembling, the tips of my toes barely in contact with the floor. My arms stretched wide, fingers clawing at nothing, the pizza box spinning away. I hovered there, suspended, too long for any human body to resist gravity's pull, some impossible force keeping me locked in place. Panic swelled, pushing past the pain. This was beyond me. Beyond anything I could understand or prevent.

Purple light exploded from within me, illuminating my entire apartment. The table where my Dungeon Master screen rested loosely next to my best set of dice. The small kitchen, cluttered with dirty plates and glasses. My cheap Ikea sofa and chairs.

For a moment, everything was bathed in vivid, pulsing purple light.

The Dungeon Master screen slid off the table and hit the floor.

And then everything went dark.

I was lying on something hard and cold.

It wasn’t my floor. That had a carpet—as thin as it was.

No, this felt more like stone.

My eyes were heavy, refusing to open, and my body felt sluggish, too lethargic to move.

There was a voice chanting softly nearby. A pleasant voice, feminine, though I couldn’t make out the words. They sounded foreign, strange. Latin, maybe? Some ancient language?

Wait … that couldn’t be right.

The burst of adrenaline was enough to crack my eyes open.

I was in a vast room, a white ceiling high above. Four perfectly circular pillars of white stone were around me, each mounted with sconces holding dormant torches. I stared at them. They weren’t flashlights, nor bulbs, but the real deal: wood wrapped in cloth, dipped in tar or something, ready to ignite like the torches from my D&D game.

Who even used torches like that anymore? What about fire regulations?

Where the fuck was I?

The chanting stopped.

“Oh, my God, you’re awake!”

I turned my head, which took considerable effort.

Beside me stood a woman in a white robe, elegantly draped over both shoulders and open at the front. The fabric was spotless and luxurious, suggesting a softness that was almost tangible. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her strikingly beautiful green eyes stared down at me. Beneath the robe, she wore a two-piece tunic: the bodice was tight across her full breasts, tied at the front with laces that revealed quite a lot of cleavage, while a short skirt rested low on her hips, leaving her smooth stomach bare. I blinked, my gaze irresistibly drawn to the expanse of her creamy, alluringly curved skin.

“How do you feel, my God?” she asked, her voice full of concern. “Are you in pain?”

“I …” I tried to speak, coughed, then swallowed hard. I tried again. “I’m okay … I think. A bit tired.” Exhausted, more like, as if I’d recovered from a debilitating illness. Is that what had happened?

She nodded, her large, expressive eyes watching me intently.

“Um … who are you? Where am I?” Once the questions started, they didn’t seem to want to stop, spurred by a rising sense of panic. “What happened? How did I get here? Where is here?”

I pushed myself up, feeling a bit stronger now, or maybe it was the panic. My muscles protested like they would after a heavy workout. Or, at least, what I imagined that might feel like. It wasn’t like I had first-hand experience.

“Oh, my God,” she said, as if that was her go-to phrase. “I’m Lira, your High Priestess.”

Sitting up, I took in more of the room. A lot hit me at once. First off, I was naked, sitting on a stone table that was covered only with a thin white sheet. I quickly cupped my hands over my groin despite it being a bit late.

“I summoned you, my God.” Lira’s voice softened, trembling slightly as her hands pressed together in a gesture of devotion. Her gaze met mine, intense but full of unspoken hope. “As your High Priestess, I’ve brought you to Corthos. I prayed for you, and now—" She inhaled deeply as if gathering her strength. "You are our answer, our only hope in these desperate times.” Her fingers twitched, betraying the anxiety she tried to hide behind her reverent words.

I was only half-listening, my brain working overtime as I took in my surroundings. Everything felt surreal. I couldn’t really be here, could I? It was impossible.

The place was massive, with polished marble everywhere. The stone was veined with black and gray streaks. My eyes were drawn to a weapon rack standing against the wall nearby. Swords, axes, even a morning star—straight out of the weapons section in my player’s manual. They looked too real to be replicas. Next to them were suits of armor displayed on posts: leather, some type of chain mail, a set of full plate. Beside those was a table holding a variety of clothing, folded in neat piles. High windows let in bright sunlight, and I could see glimpses of cloudless blue sky and distant rooftops through a huge doorway behind her.

Despite the furnishings, the room was large enough to have a spartan feel to it. Add in the pillars and the marble, the mention of a priestess, and the stone table that might be an altar … Temple, suggested my brain.

I didn’t have much use for temples or churches. Or religion, for that matter. Pointless waste of time.

“…And this is Norathil.” The woman was still speaking. “Well, its outskirts, at least.”

“Who are you?” I asked, still struggling to process everything.

“Lira, my God. Your High Priestess.”

Right. She’d said that. “Where am I?”

“In Valorah,” she answered patiently.

Where the hell was Valorah?

A small frown creased her perfect brow as she noticed my obvious confusion. “On Corthos?”

“Corthos?” She’d mentioned that too, and in context, it sounded like a world. But that was impossible.

“Yes, my God. Surely you know of Corthos?”

“Corthos?” I repeated numbly. It seemed hard to string coherent sentences together, but then a lot had happened in a short space of time. I was doing my best.

Her expression faltered briefly before brightening again. “It’ll come back to you. Maybe the summoning has disoriented you. Yes, my God, that’s probably it.”

“Summoning?”

“Yes, my God.” Lira’s hands clasped over her heart, her brow furrowing in sincerity as she nodded. “I brought you here, summoned by my deepest prayers, in our darkest hour.” She stepped forward, her smile radiant, full of hope and expectation.

“Uh-huh.” I was just about keeping up despite feeling sick. This was too real to be an elaborate practical joke or a hallucination. The obvious question was on my lips: “Why?”

“To face Drakos, my God.”

I tried to place the name but came up blank. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. “Who is Drakos?”

Her eyes widened as if I’d just asked her to explain what fire was. “Surely you know of Drakos, the scourge of Valorah? The warlord who slaughtered our army … took our cities … taking freedom from our people … bringing ruin to our lands …”

I nodded faintly, hoping there was an explanation somewhere. Drakos. Warlord. Corthos. Valorah. Nothing made any sense. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Lira spoke again. “You’re our only hope, my God, and I’m so grateful you’re here. Now you can defeat Drakos and save us all!”

I blinked twice, the words taking longer than usual to travel from my ears to my frontal cortex.

And then they did.

“Say what?”

Chapter 2

Hope and Heroism

Nothing seemed to faze Lira.

Her smile and optimism held strong despite my obvious bewilderment, and she continued talking as if everything was perfectly normal, explaining the world, her people, and their belief in me.

It was quite a lot to take in after waking up naked on a stone slab in the middle of a temple in another world. I let the pleasant music of her voice drift into the background, too stunned to really focus on her words.

She fetched me a shirt and a pair of thin, white shorts, which were very welcome. Then she seemed to want to help me dress, which wasn’t welcome at all. She didn’t appear offended when I gently brushed her hands away, taking the clothing from her.

I swung my legs over the edge of the altar. Lira was fetching more clothing from a corner of the room, and while her back was turned, I took the opportunity to pull the shorts up and cover my nakedness. Lying on a cold table had meant I was hardly at my best. Nude, cold, and shriveled … Not the ideal way to meet a beautiful woman for the first time.

Lira returned with a padded gambeson, leather trousers, and a sturdy pair of boots. “…And then, three months ago, his army defeated ours. It was a slaughter. By the end of it, Valorah had no army left…”

I pulled on the trousers, then the boots. They fit perfectly, like they’d been made for me.

“…We’ve lived in fear ever since…”

I stood up, my legs weak and shaky. The simple shirt she’d brought was some kind of hemp, crudely designed yet surprisingly comfortable.

“…Drakos rules with an iron fist, and his men take what they want, wherever they go…”

I frowned at the gambeson and left it lying on the altar. I couldn’t imagine I’d need it, anyway.

“…We’ve resisted, but all rebellions have been … mercilessly crushed.” For a moment, sadness clouded Lira’s voice. Then she brightened, her tone hopeful once again. “But now you’re here, my God! I wasn’t sure my ritual would work, but it did!” She beamed at me.

Rituals. Gods. Tyrants. Her words reminded me of tales from my world, of cruel rulers and desperate rebellions. But what had this to do with me?

I had a growing suspicion that Lira expected me to play a significant part in all of this. If that were the case, both of us were going to be sorely disappointed. I needed to tell her it was all a mistake before this horrible charade went any further. But she’d put all her faith in me; it would crush her.

What a fucking mess.

“I …” I coughed again and tried to clear my throat.

“Oh my God, how foolish of me! Let me fetch you a drink.”

A drink sounded like a great idea. Whisky, tequila … hell, even vodka would do. Anything that might help me make sense of this nightmare.

Lira returned with a crystal glass filled with a ruby-red liquid. She offered it to me with a demure smile, her eyes lowered.

I accepted eagerly and drank. It was wine—watered down—but I was so desperately thirsty, it tasted like nectar, cool and refreshing.

Wiping my mouth, I cleared my throat. Maybe the blunt route wasn’t the best idea. Best to check, first, that I hadn’t misunderstood. I was hoping I somehow had, though she’d been awfully clear. “Let me get this straight. You’ve summoned me to defeat a man called Drakos who leads an army that has conquered your city and is oppressing your people.”

“Yes, my God! I knew it would all come back to you,” Lira said, her smile lighting up her face.

So I hadn’t misunderstood. “It hasn’t come back. You just told me all that.”

“Oh.” She looked briefly crestfallen. “Well, um … yes, that’s right, my God. He’s here in Norathil, and he hasn’t just conquered the city. He’s conquered our whole country.” Lira gazed at me, utter faith in her expression. “But once you kill Drakos, we’ll⁠—”

“Drakos is a fighter, I assume? Someone capable of leading such an army is likely to be well-trained?”

“Oh yes, my God. He’s a formidable fighter. A giant of a man. He stands seven feet tall, broad of chest and shoulder, frightening of visage, fast as⁠—”

“Yes, yes. I get it.” I didn’t need the images her words were conjuring and shook my head as if to wipe them away. “I just have one question.”

“Yes, my God?”

“Why do you think I stand a chance against him?”

Lira blinked. “Because you’re … you’re … a God!”

I nodded slowly, fighting a rising surge of panic. I’d picked up on the subtle clues suggesting Lira’s thoughts on that subject, so her reaction wasn’t a complete surprise. Disappointment loomed just beyond the horizon. Fuck, it was like every phone call I’d ever had with my dad. “Just out of curiosity, why do you think I’m a God?”

“When I sought help through the powers of my divination, I sensed how you controlled everything around you. How you created whole worlds with just a thought, summoned creatures and all manner of horrors, and how they did your bidding.”

“Pardon?” A horrible suspicion was creeping in.

“Why, only yesterday, I saw you dispatch four capable fighters with an army of hideous, hairy, man-like creatures!”

“Bugbears,” I said weakly, as my fears were confirmed. “They weren’t that capable,” I muttered.

“Yes, bugbears!” Lira shuddered, her body moving in a way that really drew the eyes. I quickly looked away. “Horrible creatures they were. Such power you have, my God!”

“And … er … just hypothetically, if I weren’t a God, what do you think would happen if I faced Drakos?”

“Oh, he’d absolutely slaughter anyone less than a god, my God! He’s killed dozens in duels. He’s a tribal warlord from Saromir, and fighting is their way of life. He’s the fiercest warrior Valorah has ever seen.”

“Right.” I was done. Out. Adios, amigos. “Well, er … it was very nice to meet you, and thank you for the clothes and the drink, but I think I’ll be off back home now.” I smiled awkwardly. “You know how it is—worlds to run, creatures to control. I really should be going. If you’d be kind enough to…?”

“Yes?”

“You know. Put me back?”

She frowned. “Put you back, my God?”

“Yes. Un-summon me. Return me. Do the purple swirly portal thing and … send me back where I came from.” Get me the fuck out of here. Now, ideally.

“Oh!” Lira’s face fell, like someone had just canceled Christmas. “You mean … you mean you don’t want to be here?”

How to let her down gently. Or, if not gently, then … well, it really wasn’t my fight—or my world. It was giving me a whole new lease on my life for my boring job, small apartment, and pointless future. “I’d just simply love to help you with your little problem, but alas, with great power comes … er … great responsibility.”

“Oh.” A very definite pout was forming. “Yes, my God, I understand.” She sighed, her chest rising and falling enticingly. “It was foolish of me to assume our problems would interest you.” Tears welled up in her beautiful green eyes, but she blinked them back. “Please, forgive me for disturbing you.”

“It’s quite alright,” I said generously, trying hard to ignore her distress, even though it tugged at my conscience. I had to remind myself that I had no part to play in this. “If you could just…” I gestured vaguely.

“Yes?”

“…Do the magic? Now, perhaps?”

“Oh. Er … I can’t send you back, my God. I couldn’t possibly manage magic as complicated as that. Bringing you here is one thing, but sending you back? The ritual could send you anywhere.”

That was disappointing, but anywhere would be better than here. I imagined returning somewhere in the middle of Europe, with no passport or money. Still, I’d figure something out. I could claim I’d been kidnapped—it wasn’t far from the truth. Weren’t there embassies for situations like this?

“Couldn’t you at least try?”

Lira frowned. “Why don’t you do it yourself, my God?”

“Er … I’m not sure all my powers have … er … awakened since I … er … awakened.”

“Oh.” Lira nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. A period of discombobulation was to be expected. I should’ve anticipated it.”

“So, if you wouldn’t mind doing it for me?”

“I meant it when I said the ritual could send you anywhere, my God. The chances of you returning to your realm are infinitely smaller than me sending you somewhere else.”

“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. Not Europe, then.

“It would be far more likely you’d emerge somewhere in the middle of all the stars…” Lira added helpfully.

“Ah,” I said, thinking about the vastness of space.

“… Of course, that wouldn’t be a problem for a God like you,” she continued, "but you’d still have to wait for your powers to fully return."

“True.” I supposed being here was, on balance, marginally better than floating in a vacuum. Where there was life, there was hope, and all that. Maybe some divine deliverance was at hand, or maybe I’d let Lira’s talk of gods get in my head. “Well, perhaps I do have time to help you out, after all.”

Lira looked up, tears in her eyes once more, though this time they shone with gratitude. “Oh, thank you, my God!” She launched herself at me, her slim arms wrapping around my neck as her body crashed into mine, knocking me against the table. “Thank you so much!” She placed little kisses along my jawline.

She was warm and soft, and the bodice she wore did little to hide the feel of her. Neither did my thin shirt. Every baser instinct I had was screaming, but I somehow found my voice. “Er … Lira …”

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” She quickly stepped back, blushing, clasping her hands behind her back as if to keep them from touching me again. It made her breasts push forward. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just so happy, my God.”

“I understand.” The ‘my God’ thing was, by God, getting a bit tiresome, especially since I wasn’t a God. And didn’t believe in them. “Would you mind calling me something else?”

“Of course, my God. How would you prefer I address you?”

“My name would be fine.”

Lira beamed, her eyes sparkling. “It would be an honor,” she breathed. Then her expression faltered. “But … I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, of course. It’s …” Nigel. But I had always hated that name, and it certainly wasn’t a god’s name. I was in a new city, on a different world, and that was the definition of a fresh start if ever I’d heard one. “Call me …” James. Peter. Riker … Anakin. Geralt? Aragorn. “… Kaelan.”

“Kaelan …” Lira breathed, tasting the name, staring up with adoration. “Thank you, my G—Kaelan.”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s better.” I felt a surge of strength. The new name really helped, as did Lira’s faith. Maybe she knew something I didn’t—very likely, in fact. Perhaps I did have secret, god-like powers in this world. Maybe I could defeat this villain, save the people, and win the heart of the beautiful Lira. It was a hope to cling to, for the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. “So, how do I find this Drakos of yours?”

“Oh, there’s no need to go and find him,” Lira said, smiling as if delivering the best news imaginable. “He’s waiting for you.”

“He’s … what?” I froze. That newfound confidence I’d been nurturing, the fragile sense of being in control, evaporated like mist on a summer morning.

She turned toward the doorway, gracefully gesturing as if this revelation was no more alarming than a mid-day stroll. “He’s right outside the temple.”

My heart sank. Right outside. As in, within walking distance. As in, very likely about to burst in here and crush me like a cockroach. I swallowed hard, staring at the doorway as if expecting Drakos to charge through at any moment. My legs wobbled.

I might need that gambeson after all. And a shield. There had to be a shield, right?

Chapter 3

Swords and Sacrifice

I blinked in the bright sunshine, squinting as I stepped outside. The longsword in my hand felt foreign, a weapon I had no clue how to wield. On my other arm, the round shield sagged, heavier than I expected.

There had been three sets of armor to choose from: full plate that would leave me immobile, light leathers that offered little protection, and scale mail—weighty enough to feel secure but flexible enough to move in. I’d chosen the latter. Lira had helped me don it, gambeson included, and the touch of her small hands had given me the courage to keep going.

Not that I had much of a choice. I couldn’t exactly hide in the temple for the rest of my life—Drakos knew I was here. And going home? That would mean taking a one-in-a-quadrillion chance that Lira could get the portaling right.

Limited options.

But maybe I wasn’t powerless here. Maybe, by some grace of magic or sheer dumb luck, I’d unlocked something extraordinary. Maybe Lira’s magic had granted me something God-like, or maybe merely being from Earth, and not Corthos, might awaken some secret heretofore latent abilities. Like Superman.

If not, this would be the fastest duel in Valorah’s history.

The temple was shaped like a layered pyramid, its sides formed by staggered steps of marble, each one taller than me and tinged green with moss and algae. It looked ancient and timeless. Ahead of me, a long stone staircase descended to a sandy courtyard, but the steps at least had been swept clean as if they were regularly used. Navigating it was daunting enough in the weight of this armor, without having to worry about slippery moss beneath the steel-reinforced boots I wore.

The courtyard itself was flanked by two buildings, and even I could see the temple was constructed of different stone from a wholly separate era. Part of me wondered how it had come to be.

Ringing the courtyard on my left was a stable, with intricate carvings of horses etched into its stone. Opposite stood a monastery—arched windows, cloistered walkways—a solemn, imposing structure. Both buildings ran up to the pyramid and curved inwards, blending into its lower layers and enclosing the complex.

The only way out was through the open gateway across the courtyard, taunting me with the illusion of escape.

It wasn’t a viable option. The courtyard was encircled by stands—temporary platforms with staggered, high benches like an amphitheater—and they were full of Norathil’s citizens.

Spontaneous cheers erupted as they noticed me, the sound building to a roar. I hadn’t known there’d be an audience. Oh well, it didn’t really make much difference.

From my perspective, the temple complex seemed less like a sanctuary and more like a prison with an arena built in.

Lira had said something about being on the outskirts of Norathil. From this height, I could see the city wall less than a mile away, with houses and buildings beyond. A single broad road stretched from the temple complex to the city, while in the distance, fields blended into forests.

If I needed any more proof that I wasn’t on Earth anymore, that stunning view was it. And I was stunned. I wasn’t sure how long I stopped at the top of those steps, but it had been a lot of shocks in a short space of time, and my usually keen intellect didn’t seem to want to function at full speed.

It took effort to ignore the unfamiliar scenery and roaring crowd and focus instead on the sandy courtyard below. Which was conspicuously empty.

“Is he here?” I asked without turning around. My voice came quieter than I’d intended.

“Yes, my God. He’s been waiting since yesterday.”

“Call me Kaelan,” I muttered, feeling the weight of my mortality more than ever. After this, she could call me whatever she liked. I’d be dead.

“Of course, Kaelan. Forgive me.”

It seemed churlish to go out without a word to Lira. She’d done her best, after all. I turned to her, my stomach roiling. “Thank you … for preparing me. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” The words felt hollow, but my mind was too focused on keeping the nausea down to say anything real.

She gave me a reassuring smile. She really was very beautiful. There were worse visions to see on the day I died.

I started slowly down the staircase. The scale mail wasn’t exactly agile, and if I slipped and fell from this height, it wouldn’t just be my pride I injured. My slow pace gave me time to think. To reflect on the foolishness of what I was about to do. On my utter lack of options. On my impending death.

On the sliver of hope I clung to, that there might yet be some power that would manifest and save me.

I am a God, I told myself. Positive thinking had to help.

The Nigel of old was an atheist, but I—Kaelan—was a God.

I felt a rush of power, my nerves subsiding.

“Come out, Drakos!” I bellowed, my voice surprisingly strong and bold, ringing out above the noise of the crowd. “Come and meet your doom!”

The crowd hushed, staring in awe. Then they erupted again into roars and cheers.

I took another step. There was no sign of this Drakos. What were the chances he’d fled, rather than facing a God?

A man burst out of the monastery that edged the courtyard. No, not a man. A giant. Easily seven feet tall, though he seemed to loom larger. Dressed only in boots and leather trousers, his torso was bare. Muscles rippled in the sunlight, and dark hair matted his massive chest. In one hand, he held a sword nearly as long as I was tall; in the other, he carried a shield the size of a table, banded with steel.

“At last!” Drakos shouted. “Come, Champion. Come and be killed!”

I swallowed, almost stumbling on the next step.

Drakos strode unhurriedly to the center of the courtyard, casually twirling his sword as he loosened up. He sneered as he waited for me.

I reached the bottom of the steps, fighting the urge to throw up. I stiffened my spine, lifted my heavy shield, and briefly considered whether it would be a good idea to swing my sword like Drakos.

Best not. I didn’t want to risk dropping it.

“Champion! Champion!” the crowd started chanting.

Drakos’ face darkened as he heard them. He threw back his head and roared, a sound so loud it made the crowd falter.

I took another pace, feeling the grit of the courtyard beneath my boots. Every sense was heightened, awash with adrenaline. The air smelled so fresh, unsullied by pollution. The sun beat down from high overhead, and beneath my armor, gambeson, and leather trousers, sweat trickled over my skin.

My palm was slippery, and the sword was so damn heavy.

I took another step, but Drakos had tired of waiting.

The giant of a man broke into a run, his long strides devouring the space between us.

I tried to raise my shield and take a guard. The intent was to drop into something that might look like a readied crouch, but I wasn’t used to the weight of the shield. It was effort enough just to raise it.

Drakos roared again as he charged, his enormous sword lifted high. He brought it down in a brutal arc.

There was no subtlety in the move, and I lifted my sword to parry. But when our blades met, mine was batted aside like a twig.

His blade kept coming. Nothing stood in its way. The edge met the top of my head. I had a fleeting instant to realize how futile my chance had ever been before his sword drove on down and through.

There was blinding pain — then nothing.

I was lying on something hard. It felt like stone.

Oh, fuck.

I opened my eyes. The marble ceiling of the temple was overhead, pillars ringing me, the torches still unlit. Sunlight streamed through the windows.

“My … my God?” Lira’s voice carried a note of fear I hadn’t heard before. “Are … are you well?”

I was alive. That was something, I supposed.

A surprise, for one.

Hadn’t Drakos killed me? Hadn’t his sword smashed mine aside and passed through my head, into my brain? That wasn’t the sort of thing one normally awoke from.

I could remember the feel of it and the blinding pain. Mercifully, it hadn’t lasted long.

I reached a hand up. My head was still there, which was comforting. No injury, not even a scar.

“My God?”

That was getting irritating. “Call me Kaelan.”

“Yes, Kaelan.” She sounded relieved. “Are you well, then?”

No, I’m not fucking ‘well’. “I’m fine.” But incredibly pissed off. I was still disoriented by the whole dying thing. My mind was fixated on the memory of the pain, like the world’s worst hangover, even though the pain itself was gone, too. It was unsettling, to put it mildly. “What happened?”

“Um … Drakos killed you.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought happened. “Why am I back here, then?”

“You’re a God.”

Hmm. So I did have God-like powers, after all. Immortality was pretty cool. Assuming it didn’t … run out.

I opened one eye and looked up at Lira, who was standing nearby, her beautiful face reflecting her anxiety. “Will I always come back to life if I’m killed?”

“Of course. You’re a God.” She paused, a pretty little crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Although … I didn’t know you could die.” She looked worried. “Did it hurt?”

Fuck, yes, it had hurt. But at least it had been over so fast.

“Not really.”

“Oh, good.” She smiled. “Are you ready to try again?”

I blinked up at her. “What?”

“Drakos is outside, waiting for you.”

“What?!” I sat up quickly. And crap, I was naked again. I covered myself, but not before Lira’s gaze had flicked down over my body.

“He’s waiting for you when you’re ready.” She paused, then added helpfully, “I retrieved your boots and sword and such.”

I sighed. I must’ve lost all my equipment when I died, given that I was once more naked. And now I had to go through all of it again. What other choice did I have?

I opted for the leather armor this time. The scale mail had been too heavy, and the shield was useless—I didn’t have the strength to wield it. But there was a broad-bladed rapier and a dagger, and that gave me some hope. The former was lighter than the longsword. Thin enough to thrust but with an edge sharp enough to cut, it was a weapon suited more for agility than strength. Just what I needed.

Drakos had come in like a lumbering ox; maybe he was too big to be fast.

It was much easier to run down the steps in the lighter armor. Drakos was still standing on the sand, his large sword splashed red.

With my blood.

“Hmm,” Drakos grunted when he saw me. “That priestess is a powerful necromancer. You look almost alive.” He hefted his shield.

“I am alive, you bastard.” And he couldn’t kill me—not permanently, anyway.

At least, I hoped not.

This time, I moved out to meet him, my lighter rapier held ready, my dagger poised in my off-hand. If I couldn’t parry his blows, I’d have to dodge. If Drakos wasn’t that fast, perhaps this was the way to win.

The first blow came in, and I danced back. But Drakos was fast. He took a step forward, easily brushed my rapier aside with the edge of his shield, and the point of his sword pierced my chest.

I barely time had time to gurgle on my own blood before the world went dark.

Chapter 4

Tables and Temptation

I awoke on the stone table, naked.

“Damn that motherfucking son of a bitch!”

“Welcome back, my God.” Lira stood nearby, holding my leather armor. As she waved her hand over it, a faint green glow traced the fabric, and the hole Drakos had made with his sword was repaired as perfectly as if it were new. “He … um … killed you again.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.”

You have gained a new skill: Dodge. Dodge is now level 1.

I blinked. The message had appeared right in front of my face, then faded away after a second.

What the fuck?

Was this a game? Was it not real? Was I not here at all, but in some kind of virtual reality experience somewhere?

Hell, that actually made sense. A lot more sense than being brought to another world by a hot High Priestess.

Then that would mean…

I reached up to my head, feeling for a visor of some kind. If I could just pull it off, maybe I could escape. Quit. Log out. Go back home.

I sighed. There was nothing there. Nothing to feel. Nothing to remove.

Besides, I had to admit to myself that it wasn’t a dream. The feel of everything, the smells, the details. Lira. All of it was too vivid, too real, to be a dream or a hallucination. I was really here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

“Are you well, Kaelan?”

“Just dandy. Thanks for asking.”

“‘Dandy’?” she echoed with a note of confusion. “Are you ready to go again?”

I sighed. “Why not? Today is a good day to die.” Because I didn’t have anything else to do.

It took a while for Lira to help me get into the plate armor, but its weight was reassuring. At least it would stop Drakos’ sword. I chose the morning star, giving it a testing swing. The spiked ball whistled past Lira’s face, missing her by a hair, and her eyes went wide.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

But it turned out the plate mail was a mistake. Every step was awkward, my coordination non-existent. Yet, if it allowed me to take some blows from Drakos until I could hit him with the very lethal morning star, perhaps it was the secret.

First, I had to get down to the sand, where Drakos waited. The steps had never looked so intimidating. I lifted a foot, lowered it gently … and the weight of the armor pulled me over.

“Fuck!”

I tumbled down the first few steps, my momentum accelerating as gravity caught me. Armor clattered against stone, dents appearing in the pristine plate mail. A heavy knock forced the air from my lungs, and one leg got caught beneath me. There was a sharp crack accompanied by shooting pain, making me cry out.

Left leg disabled. Agility -3. Armor Class -5. Speed -10. Dodge -10.

Health -5.

“How are you back again?” Drakos seemed puzzled as he stared. I wasn’t sure if it was my return that had confused him, or the graceless manner of my arrival.

He leisurely wandered over and placed the point of his sword at my throat, beneath my helm, where there was minimal protection. I tried to squirm away, but there was nothing I could do.

Drakos grinned down. “Let’s see her raise you after this.”

Then he slowly leaned forward.

I awoke again, clutching my throat. I could still remember the sensation of his sword sliding in, my breath and blood gurgling around the tip, unable to move as he took his time killing me.

I really hated that fucker.

But the messages I’d been getting surely meant something. Was there some way of accessing them?

“Welcome back, my God.”

“Kaelan,” I said in reflex.

There must be some way to check the information, even without something happening to cause a message to appear. What usually worked in these sorts of situations?

“Sorry, Kaelan,” Lira said, sounding abashed. I ignored her. “I won’t forget again. It’s just … um … habit.”

Nothing usually worked in these sorts of situations, because this sort of situation just didn’t happen.

“You know,” Lira continued, “it’s because … um … you’re my God.”

Still. Here I was, and I had to try something.

“Show statistics,” I tried. Nothing happened.

“Sorry?”

“Display attributes.” Maybe that would do something.

“I … um … of course, my God. If you think that would help.”

I glanced at Lira. Was she the answer all along?

The girl was pulling her robe off, letting it slip to the floor. I frowned. Why was she doing that?

Her fingers came up to the laces of her bodice, pulling loose the bow.

My eyes widened. What was she doing?

Lira pulled the strings open, revealing much more cleavage, then grasped both sides of the bodice in her hands.

“Wait, stop!”

Her hands stilled. Slowly, her beautiful green eyes raised to meet mine, a blush tingeing her cheeks. “Did you not wish me to …?”

I swallowed. That hadn’t quite been what I’d meant when I’d said ‘display attributes’, but how to tell the girl without hurting her feelings? “Thank you, Lira. Your devotion is admirable,” I said graciously. “However, I’ve decided upon a different course of action.”

You have gained a new skill: Etiquette. Etiquette is now level 1.

I raised my hand, trying to poke the message with my finger. But while my finger jutted forward in mid-air, it was evident the message wasn’t there. It seemed to be printed directly on my eyeballs. Then it faded away.

Lira was watching my hand, confusion on her face. Her laces were still untied, a lot more of her alluring curves on display.

I averted my eyes. “I really do appreciate all the help you’re providing.” My voice was surprisingly calm. “Please feel free to refasten your clothing now.”

“Of course, Kaelan. Anything I can do to help, you need but ask.”

That was kind of her—so long as I chose my words carefully. “Wait … do you know anything about … status messages?”

Lira paused in the process of refastening her bodice, her blush deepening. “No, Kaelan. I don’t understand what you mean by ‘status messages’. Regretfully, I am ill-informed of the workings of Gods.”

That hadn’t been what I meant by ‘wait’, either. “Thank you, Lira. Please carry on.”

There was a gentle rustle of clothing, which I tried very hard to ignore.

Willpower has gained a rank. Willpower is now level 6.

“I need to concentrate for some moments. Is there somewhere you could…” Go where you’re not so distracting.

“Oh, of course. I’ll … I’ll wait outside.”

“Thank you.”

I watched her leave. She’d left her robe on the floor, and that skirt was so short it barely covered her ass. A very distracting ass.

I swallowed hard, turning my gaze back to the ceiling.

“Display character sheet.”

Nothing happened.

“Query character: Kaelan.”

Nothing.

Perhaps it didn’t need a verbal command. Lira had been oblivious to the messages; perhaps they were all in my mind.

I concentrated, willing my information to display itself, and a screen of text flickered momentarily into view, disappearing quickly. What had I done? Could I do it again?

Show my information, I thought, focusing hard.

A table appeared, floating before my eyes.

It was almost a fucking D&D sheet! That couldn’t be a coincidence. I stared at it for a long while, thinking various thoughts.

Strength ten? Bullshit. I’m stronger than that!

Intelligence … okay, that makes sense. I wonder how high it can go?

Charisma only fourteen? Should be eighteen or twenty, surely!

Luck three? Figures.

It had worked for me. Could it work for Lira?

I focused hard. Show High Priestess Lira information.

Another table appeared.

Well, that explained a great deal. And it made a certain sense, given that Lira was convinced I was her God.

I’d have to be careful. The ‘Devotion’ thing bothered me, and the Charisma modifier only made it worse. Maybe it was natural for her to have a bit of a blind spot when it came to me, but it complicated things. I’d have to tread lightly.

There was no other information, no character sheet like I’d expected to see.

“Lira, could you come here a moment, please?”

“Of course.” She walked back in, giving me a smile. Her gaze drifted over my body. Then she blushed again and lowered her eyes.

“Pass me your robe, please.”

“Of course.” She passed it to me, taking furtive glances as she did so.

I draped it across my lap, as much for her sake as mine.

“I need to check something. Stand still for me a moment, please.”

“Yes, Kaelan.”

How to show her information … if such a thing was even possible.

I narrowed my eyes at her, focusing hard. Show Lira. It was a good thing I hadn’t said that out loud. No telling what she would’ve done.

Her status table flickered up.

That was a lot to process. Pretty good attributes, too.

Heh. I’d come this close to seeing her attributes, and that really wasn’t how I wanted our relationship to start. The Devotion was definitely a problem. The Attraction … well, that was flattering. I guess I didn’t need Attraction points on my own sheet to tell me that Lira was stunning.

I raised an eyebrow at her, letting the table fade away. “Are you glad I’m here?”

“Oh yes,” Lira beamed, her eyes earnest. “It’s wonderful to have you here.”

It was tempting to bask in her praise, even though I knew it wasn’t real. It was just her blind Devotion, and I hadn’t earned it.

Yet.

I would, though. I’d prove to her I was worthy of her Faith.

For now, I settled on giving her a grateful smile.

But Lira hadn’t finished. “I just know you’ll defeat Drakos and save everyone. You’re so magnificent, helping all the people of Valorah like this.”

I felt my smile slip away faster than it had come.

“Back to it, then,” I said, grimly. “Let’s try the leather armor again … and perhaps twin daggers this time.”

Maybe I could get my dodge skill up.

Chapter 5

Evolve and Evade

I bounded down the steps, stopping just shy of the sand.

“How many times do I have to kill you?” Drakos thundered when he saw me. “Your necromancer is powerful indeed! Still … she can’t keep this up all day long, and I can!”

I ignored his words, focusing to bring up his info sheet. Show information and weaknesses.

That was it? Everything was ‘None found or insufficient knowledge’? I’d been hoping for so much more.

How come I could see all of Lira’s sheet and hardly any of Drakos’?

But then the answer to that was obvious. Lira was my devoted companion. Drakos … not so much.

Drakos had picked up his sword, but left his shield leaning against the wall. He was confident he wouldn’t need it; I couldn’t blame him for that.

“Come then, puny Champion.”

Resigned, I walked forward onto the sand.

I awoke on the stone table. This was getting tedious.

“Welcome back, my God.”

Dammit. Nothing was working!

The crowd had even started cheering for Drakos and not me. Fickle bastards … or maybe just good diplomacy. It was obvious I wasn’t going to save them.

I’d lost track of how many times Drakos had killed me, but the big man didn’t even seem tired. I’d been at it all day. Through the temple windows, the sky was oranges and reds as the sun set.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 2. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills.

Well, that was new.

“I’m so sorry he killed you again.”

I was aware of Lira speaking, but ignored her as I eagerly opened my info sheet.

I grimaced, staring at the decrease in my luck. That notification hadn’t pleased me when it had come, but after the number of times Drakos had killed me, it kind of made sense.

Dodge had gone up, though, and I’d gained points in Endurance, Resilience, and Speed. Each new status message had given me a flutter of excitement. But the grim truth was that I was now level two, and Drakos was level eighteen.

This was hopeless.

“It’s my fault, my God.” Lira was still speaking. “I had hoped … I had hoped you would be able to defeat him.”

I could buff a skill by three points, but it wasn’t likely to make much difference.

Buying a new one seemed to be more interesting.

Show available skills.

A scrolling column of text appeared, moving too fast to quickly read. Wow, there were a lot of them. Some caught my eye as they went past, both mundane and interesting:

Arcane Knowledge

Archery

Begging

Crafting

Fencing (Stolen goods, Jewels)

Jousting

Leadership

Sex (with females)

Sex (with males)

Sex (other)

Weapon (Flail)

Weapon (Sword)

Wilderness

Zookeeping

There were a great many more besides. There must have been a few dozen weapon skills alone. It wasn’t my fault the sex skills had caught my eye.

And how did I not already have some of these skills? I was 28 years old, definitely not a virgin. Surely, the three people I’d slept with were worth a skill point or two? It was a worrying reflection on past performance that I didn’t have any.

But then, I’d snuck around my stepdad more than a few times and learned to avoid some of his blows, with no points in Stealth or Dodge to show for it.

Maybe that was just the way it worked.

How many skill points was I going to be able to get?

“I wouldn’t have called you here if I’d known you would have to die, again and again.”

If I only had six when I leveled … but then, my other skills had raised as I’d used them. That made sense, too. If I was prepared to spend the rest of my life fighting Drakos, maybe one day I could get strong enough to kill him.

“I’m so sorry, my God.”

If the constant dying didn’t snap my mind first. I shuddered at the memories of our last fight, where he’d chopped off my sword arm at my shoulder, then taken my head between both hands and squeezed until it had popped, grinning all the while.

Fuck, I hated that guy.

Stealth wouldn’t help at all. Drakos could see me coming a mile off. A weapon skill would make more sense. I’d mainly chosen daggers and rapiers, but as I was yet to land a hit on Drakos, they hadn’t leveled at all. Still, a single point in either would hardly help me defeat a level eighteen boss.

I sighed. It really was hopeless.

It was time to admit it.

“You’ve tried so hard,” Lira said, and she sounded so despondent I glanced at her at last. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “I so hate watching you get killed. It’s only knowing that you come back each time that has let me keep my faith.”

“What if I can’t kill him?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Her lips quivered for a moment. “I know you’ll find a way. Perhaps, when your God powers return to you…” She gave me a small smile, more tremulous than usual, then turned to walk to the small table where the food and wine sat. But not before I had seen the tear that had slipped free, running down one beautiful cheek.

I couldn’t bring myself to open her character sheet and see if her Devotion had lost any points, or if her Faith was shaken.

Dammit, I felt so helpless.

If only I did have some God powers—beyond immortality. If only I was powerful and could swat that bastard with a single blow … the way Drakos had done it to me so many times.

I froze.

That was the answer!

I’d leave. I’d go and find a dungeon, level up, gain some skills. Get some powerful magical items—such things must exist in this world—and then I’d come back and kill that fucker.

I’d toy with him. I’d chop him up, a bit at a time. I’d make him beg for mercy before I killed him.

But the people of Norathil would suffer in my absence. Lira would suffer most of all, and that pulled at my heart. She was the only one in this whole God-forsaken world that supported me.

She’d understand … eventually. When I came back and blasted Drakos with powerful magic and danced around him with expert swordsmanship. When I at last saved all the people, I’d be able to look Lira in the eye and finally see how high her Devotion could really go.

First, I had to escape. There was no way out past Drakos, and the courtyard was ringed with buildings. I’d need to find another route.

Lira was lighting the torches. It had grown dark enough inside the temple to warrant some extra light.

I glanced up at the windows of the temple, high up in the walls. The sky was gradually shifting to a deep navy blue.

They were just open holes in the wall. No glass, no bars, and large enough to climb through.

Could I do it? Could I somehow get up there?

Could I leave Lira behind?

It was only temporary. I’d be back; that was a promise. Both to her and me.

Buy new skill: Climbing. It had to be on that list somewhere.

New skill will cost 3 skills points. Proceed? Y/N.

Good, it was. Yes.

You have gained a new skill: Climbing. Climbing is now level 1.

Spend skills points: Climbing.

Climbing has gained a rank. Climbing is now level 2.

Spend all skills points: Climbing.

Climbing has gained a rank. Climbing is now level 3.

Climbing has gained a rank. Climbing is now level 4.

I didn’t feel any different. Was four points in Climbing enough to reach the windows?

Now all I needed was the chance to try it, and that meant finding a way to distract Lira.

“I think I’ll try the leather armor again,” I said vaguely, wondering how to give myself enough time to try for an escape.

“I couldn’t bear you going out there again,” she said mournfully. “I’ve requested a respite. We’re to resume in the morning.” She gave me a small, sad smile.

Well, that was easy. I’d have all the time I needed.

“Fine. I’d still like to get dressed.”

She finished lighting the last torch, then fetched clothing and my leather armor that she’d again repaired for what seemed like the hundredth time. Leather trousers. A tough hide jacket. I’d be able to climb in it, and it would give me some protection for the days ahead.

“Do you have a home to go to?” I asked as I dressed.

“I have a house in the city,” she said, watching me. “But my place is by your side now.”

My heart gave a little tug at her sincerity, but that would only complicate things.

I felt like a bastard for what I was about to say. “You should go home tonight, Lira. I need to reflect on my powers, without distraction.”

“Of course, Kaelan.” She bowed and took a few steps toward the doorway, then paused, turning back to me, her kicked-puppy expression returning. “I’m sorry I distract you. I’ll … try to do better.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Then I don’t distract you?” The hope in her eyes made me feel even more like a bastard.

“You do distract me,” I said, honestly. “But it’s a distraction I like.”

Etiquette has gained a rank. Etiquette is now level 2.

She beamed. “Until the morning then, my God.”

She spun on her heel, her short skirt bouncing merrily against her ass as she left.

I was pretty sure both the ‘my God’ and the bounce in her step had been for my benefit.

Dammit, was I really going to abandon her?

I was if I could ever get up. This. Damn. Pillar.

Evidently, a climbing skill of four wasn’t enough. It had ranked up a couple of times while I’d been trying, a now less-than-impressive six, and it still wasn’t enough.

It didn’t help that I’d loaded myself down with a rapier, a set of throwing knives, two daggers, spare clothes, an unlit torch, a crossbow and bolts, and a satchel with the rest of the food and wine. But what good would it do to escape, only to be killed by the first bandit I encountered?

I’d end up right back here. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

I sighed. The throwing knives were heavy, the spare clothes unnecessary. The crossbow weighed even more, and the moon was so bright, I could manage without a torch. And only one dagger.

Far less encumbered, I leaped once again for the sconce. Braced my legs against the pillar. Pulled. Climbed.

That bit was working out okay, but I couldn’t reach the windowsill. I’d managed, once, by climbing onto the sconce and leaping for it. The other times I’d tried, I’d fallen.

Still, it was the only way.

I pulled myself up onto the sconce. It was easier than the last time. Perhaps the extra climbing points were helping after all, and the lower weight certainly made a difference.

Bracing myself, I leaped for the windowsill, my hands slapping against it. Now all I needed to do was a two-palm pull-up.

I wished I’d used my gym membership while I’d had the chance. It wasn’t that I was out of shape, I was just a long way from being in shape. That, plus a few too many pizza-and-Mountain-Dew nights.

I slipped, sliding down the wall and crashing to the floor a dozen feet below.

Blunt force trauma injury: left leg. Blunt force trauma injury: right leg. -1 Health.

That was a message I’d seen far too many times tonight. Could I die in this world from repeatedly twisting my ankle? That didn’t seem very fair. I checked my character sheet: twelve Health left. A dozen more falls, and I’d be dead … only to wake up on the stone table again, fully healed. Being a God had its advantages.

Climbing has gained a rank. Climbing is now level 7.

Oh, good. That would help.

It took three more tries and a Climbing skill of eight before I was finally able to hoist myself up to the window. It was late into the night, the moon almost full. The stars were out in force, though I recognized none of the constellations. It wasn’t as if I were an expert, but I knew enough to pick them out on a night like this. The familiar ones just weren’t there.

As if I needed confirmation this wasn’t my world. Well … it wasn’t Earth, but I was going to make it my world.

Just as soon as I’d gained enough power to kill Drakos.

I climbed down the back of the pyramid. It was like a giant’s staircase, tiers of stone, each taller than a man. I gripped the edge of each level, hanging and dropping to the one below until the ground was finally beneath my feet. To the east lay a forest; to the south, snow-capped mountains reflected the moonlight.

Behind me stood the temple, the walls of Norathil a mile beyond.

I was free.

The world was mine to conquer.

If the world didn’t conquer me first.

Chapter 6

Forest and Fur

Guided by the moon, I headed east, walking through the night and far into the next day.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d walked so far. If ever at all.

Thank fuck for decent boots.

The surrounding forest stretched endlessly, a mix of towering pines and gnarled oaks, their branches twisting overhead to form a thick canopy. Beneath my boots, the ground was soft, with layers of fallen needles and moss muffling my steps. The scent of pine and leaves filled the air, along with the occasional musk of distant wildlife.

My food had long gone, and I’d drunk the last of the watered wine hours before. I was deep in the forest, most likely surrounded by berries, fungi, and animals to hunt. But without the skills and knowledge, none of it did me any good.

And I’d seen no one. No towns, no villages, not even another traveler.

Just how big was this world? How populous?

At least I hadn’t spent the day being chopped up by Drakos.

Maybe that was what the big bastard had expected. Me, giving up, running off, and handing him Norathil for good. Hadn’t Lira said something to that effect? In the highly unlikely event Drakos won (her words), his claim to Norathil could no longer be contested.

Except by me. I’d be back. At least, as soon as I was strong enough. It was a promise I’d already made, but I reinforced it now. That bastard was going down if it was the last thing I did.

Not for the first time, I wondered what Lira had thought when she found me missing. Did she assume my powers had awakened enough to get myself home? Probably.

Did she hate me now? Most definitely.

The thought of Drakos hurting her almost made me turn back. But, if I was ever going to get strong enough to kill him and save her—save Norathil, save Valora—I had to keep going.

It was the only way.

I could do without food for another day or two, but I needed water. I knew enough survival to know that much. There must be a stream somewhere in this forest, and with any luck, it would be fresh enough to drink.

At least some of my health had regenerated. I was back up to fifteen.

The sun was low, casting deep shadows through the trees, when I finally heard the tinkle of a brook. Following it, I came to a small stream, the water cool and inviting. I eyed it warily. I had nothing to boil it in, even if I managed to start a fire.

It was a tradeoff: slake my thirst and risk poisoning myself or stay thirsty and suffer. How did they even treat infections here? Lira might be able to heal me, but she was miles away.

I crouched beside the stream and cupped the cool water in my hands, drinking deeply. What was the worst that could happen? If I died, at least I’d see her again.

When it became too dark to see, I flopped down between the roots of an enormous tree. My stomach growled, but there was no helping that. Besides, I could stand to skip a meal or two and lose a little belly. I had a warrior to fight, and I needed to become one myself.

Still, it was a long, lonely, and hungry evening before sleep claimed me.

I awoke.

It was still dark, the moon high in the sky and casting long shadows.

A stick was poking into my side, and a stone was digging into my hip. But that wasn’t what had woken me.

Perception has gained a rank. Perception is now level 7.

Luck has gained a rank. Luck is now level 3.

Oh, cool. Also, that meant something was out there. I reached for my rapier, the handle a comfort in my hand, and quietly drew it from its scabbard.

I listened hard.

If it were a human, there’d be noises. An animal? Maybe not.

But something had woken me.

The forest was silent. Not even a breeze to stir the leaves.

Well, I wasn’t going to wait here and be attacked—or worse, eaten.

I pushed myself up, then froze in mid-motion.

A wolf stood only a few yards away, moonlight reflecting in its pale-yellow eyes. It was the biggest damn wolf I had ever seen. Bigger than any dog. As big as the sofa in my apartment. Slowly, its hackles rose, its lip curled, and it snarled. The sound filled the forest, chilling my blood.

This was a primal creature, a predator of the highest order, and I was a level two classless … nothing.

What did I know about wolves? Should I run or freeze? Could it detect me if I didn’t move? Could I scare it off?

The wolf leaped, teeth bared, paws thudding as it crossed the gap between us in a heartbeat.

I was on one knee, unable to dodge—for what good that would do. But the rapier was in my hand. I raised the blade just as the wolf lunged for my throat.

Some primal instinct kicked in, and I threw my arm up reflexively. The wolf’s jaws clamped down, biting deep, even as it yelped. The rapier was pushed back hard in my hand, and a wet, slick squelch marked a lucky hit.

Bite injury: left arm. -7 Health. Agility -1.

My arm felt like it was on fire, the wolf worrying at it and digging its teeth deeper. I shoved the rapier forward, and again the wolf yelped. This time, it released my arm … and then it slumped down to the forest floor, blood pooling around the rapier embedded in its chest. I scrambled back until I was pressed against the tree, and I watched as the life slipped from the wolf’s eyes.

You have gained a new skill: Weapon (Sword). Weapon (Sword) is now level 1.

You have gained a new Secondary Attribute: Attack. Attack is now level 1.

You have gained a new Secondary Attribute: Defense. Defense is now level 1.

Luck has gained a rank. Luck is now level 4.

It was a bitter victory. The wolf was a beautiful animal, just trying to survive. Hunting deer or clearing kobolds from a dungeon was one thing, but a lone wolf? That wasn’t the stuff heroes were made of.

Funny how I’d never thought of myself as hero material before. A day with Lira had maybe changed my mind.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 3. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills.

Even that felt hollow. But survival was the name of this game, and I was out to win it. I knew what I had to do.

Buy new skill: hunting.

New skill will cost 3 skills points. Proceed? Y/N.

Yes.

You have gained a new skill: Hunting. Hunting is now level 1.

That might help me find some food, but it wouldn’t be enough alone. But I still had three skills points left, which I spent to purchase Foraging.

I pulled my rapier free and wiped it on the wolf’s fur. I wondered if I could skin it. The pelt had to be worth something, but I didn’t know where to begin.

What did I know? What could I actually do? I had an apparently high intelligence of seventeen, but in that moment I’d never felt more stupid. A lifetime of skills, nearly all useless here. I didn’t know how to make gunpowder or to invent a printing press. Hell, I’d never even rubbed two sticks together to make a fire. Fortunately, it was warm enough to not need one.

I did know untreated wounds were bad news, and my arm was throbbing like hell. Out here, an infection might lead to gangrene, even amputation. Would my arm grow back if I died and woke up again on the stone table? But then, Drakos had chopped me up enough times, I knew the answer. It was some comfort.

I eased off my leather jacket, ripped a strip from my shirt, and tied it tightly around my arm, using my teeth to pull the knot as tight as I could.

You have gained a new skill: Healing. Healing is now level 1.

Well, that was an encouraging affirmation. I’d done all I could. Only time would tell if it was enough.

I glanced at the wolf again. I didn’t want to sleep next to its carcass—it might attract scavengers. Another fight wasn’t what I needed right now.

But waste not, want not. I cut off some lean meat with my dagger. I wasn’t foolish enough to eat it raw, but surely I could learn to start a fire.

Wait … I had blades. Wasn’t a flint and steel basically any old flint and some steel? If I could make sparks, I could light some kindling. The forest was full of dry fuel. Surely, I could manage a fire.

I needed a proper place to rest, food, water, and a way to clean my wound. For that, I needed to be elsewhere.

The sky was lightening, promising sunrise in an hour or so. I skewered the wolf meat on sticks and tied it to my pack. No doubt it would taste good … when I got hungry enough.

Still heading what I hoped was east, I started whistling a little tune as I walked.

Endurance has gained a rank. Endurance is now level 5.

And that was grand, too.

Chapter 7

Herbs and Healing

Three days later, I stumbled out of the woods toward a small hamlet. I’d been lucky enough to find a track, cartwheel ruts still fresh in the mud. Luckier still to have raised my new Hunting skill to four, courtesy of a particularly dumb pheasant and a brace of rabbits that had carelessly fallen into my ill-made snares one night.

It was the little things in life that kept the joy flowing.

I’d even unlocked a new skill: Wilderness. It was already up to three, and I could now make campfires. Turns out, I’d been right about the flint and steel, though it had cost me the sharp edge of my dagger.

Yet despite these triumphs, I was in a mess. My arm was infected, I was sure of it—puffy, red, and oozing stuff I really didn’t want to look at. And my stomach was cramping, probably from the rabbit I’d eaten the day before. Maybe I hadn’t cleaned it thoroughly, even though I’d roasted the hell out of it. Or maybe it was the water I’d drunk.

Either way, I needed help.

Hopefully, this hamlet would offer me a few days' rest, some healing, and a plan. As I staggered past a couple of folks working in a field, they paused to straighten up, watching me with wary eyes. A boy ran ahead toward the collection of houses, barely sparing me a glance. By the time I arrived, a group of residents—seven men and five women—were waiting for me. No kids in sight. Not a great sign.

I forced a smile. “Greetings to you all.”

“Afternoon,” one of the men responded, chewing on a blade of grass as he ran his eyes over my battered leathers, pausing on the rapier at my side. “Passing through, are yer?”

In other words: fuck off.

I nodded, doing my best to keep my tone calm. “I’m not looking to stay long, have no fear.”

All the men tensed, and the leader sniffed. “There’re seven of us, an’ one of you. ’Ain’t no fear ’ere.”

I shrugged, wincing as my arm twinged. “I meant nothing by it. Merely an expression, where I’m from.”

He gave me a long look, then nodded toward my arm. “Nasty wound yer have there.”

I glanced down at my left arm. There was no doubt it had got worse. I’d been wearing my jacket over one shoulder, unable to get my arm through the sleeve. “Well, a day or two’s rest and a few healing herbs, and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I tried another smile. “Do you think you could help me with that?”

He spat the blade of grass to the ground. “One of the women’ll give yer some ’erbs. But you can’t stay ’ere.” He shook his head. “’Ain’t a good time t’ ’ave strangers aroun’.”

The message was clear enough. "I understand. Some herbs would be appreciated. Maybe one of you could show me what plants to gather so I can manage on my own." I added a little incentive. "Then I'll be on my way."

The man narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “We could see to tha’.”

“Thank you.” Knowledge was more valuable than the herbs, but both were a gift.

A young woman stepped forward, sizing me up. She had a pretty face, though not a patch on Lira’s beauty. “I’ll do it, Grif. And I’ll give our visitor a meal, too. He looks like he could do with one.”

“Thank you again.” I bowed my head, grateful for more than I’d expected when I'd seen them arrayed against me. "I’ll leave you in peace afterward. You have my word."

Grif snorted. “A stranger’s word carries little weight around ’ere, but we’ll be grateful to yer if yer keep yours.”

Etiquette has gained a rank. Etiquette is now level 3.

I followed the girl to one of the huts, a rough structure of interwoven branches with a grass roof. Inside, it was simple but clean. Two sleeping pallets lay beside a small hearth, where an elderly man was snoring softly.

“My father,” the girl said, noticing my glance. “He’s not been well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The girl cocked her head. “You speak funny. You’re not from around ’ere, are you? What’s yer name?”

“Kaelan,” I smiled. “And no, my home isn’t anywhere close.”

“Fran. Nice to meet yer, I s’pose. Don’t mind Grif and the men; they’re just jumpy ’cause of the news about Norathil falling to that bastard Drakos.”

“Do you get much news around here?” I asked guardedly. Was my name known? No, it couldn’t be … I’d only ever told it to Lira. My description, though … that was a different matter.

“Not much. Only when someone passes through, which ain’t often.”

I relaxed. But then, I’d come directly here. The chances someone who had seen me fight had also wandered this way so soon were remote. I’d been worrying for nothing.

“Thank you for helping me,” I said instead.

Fran shrugged and placed a pot of water on the hearth. “No bother to help someone in need. I’m sure you’d do the same.”

It was like every girl in this world was digging the knife in and twisting it. “I will do, just as soon as I’m up to the challenge.”

Fran shot a look my way, frowning slightly. “That’s a funny way of phrasing it, but … I s’pose the sentiment is true.” She nodded as if deciding I was acceptable to her. “Take your jacket off, then. And that shirt.”

Shrugging the jacket off my good shoulder, I draped it over the empty pallet. The shirt was trickier, and I winced as my injured arm protested. It was definitely worse than a few days ago.

“Will this stop the infection?” I asked.

Fran studied my arm. Her brow creased in concentration. Her touch was gentle, yet every prod sent sharp pains through the wound. “Hmm,” she murmured. “I’d say the chances are good. The bone looks unharmed, and your leather armor probably kept it from being worse.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s great to hear. You really know your stuff.”

She smiled warmly. “I’ve always enjoyed healing. Most folks here come to me when they’re hurt. Broken bones, farming injuries, you name it—picks through feet, spades through hands…”

Fran busied herself near the hearth, tossing herbs into the boiling water from her stockpile. While she worked, I couldn’t resist the urge to pull up her character sheet.

I blinked. That was wholly unexpected … and flattering. But I also felt guilty; it felt a bit invasive. Who knew being a god came with these morally gray moments?

It was irritating that I lacked the knowledge to see her Secondary attributes. Also, given that she’d agreed to show me medicinal herbs, she must have the Herbology skill, yet it wasn’t showing. My understanding of the system was still patchy.

After a few minutes, Fran pulled the herbs from the pot with a ladle, transferring them onto a muslin cloth. “This poultice should pull the infection out in a day or two,” she said, securing it to my arm with another strip from my long-suffering shirt. “I’ll show you the herbs so you can gather more if you need to.”

“I’m in your debt,” I said sincerely. “Thank you.”

She gave a shy smile. “It’s my pleasure.”

We headed into the forest, Fran pointing out plants as we went. “Yarrow,” she said, gesturing to a feathery green plant. “Stops bleeding and treats wounds.”

You have gained a new skill: Herbology. Herbology is now level 1.

I smiled. “Perfect. Just what I wanted to know. Are there others?”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Dozens.”

We continued, and soon she stopped again. “Chamomile,” she said, showing me a flower that looked like a daisy. “Good for an upset stomach. And here’s Echinacea,” she added, pointing to a wild pink flower. “That’s in your poultice—great for infections.”

Fran stuffed a few more herbs into her dress pocket before moving on. “Comfrey,” she said, pointing to a weedy shrub with purple flowers. “It’s for cuts and scrapes, and also in your poultice.”

She gave me a sidelong glance. “Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” I replied, genuinely fascinated. “This is really helpful.”

Fran smiled again, clearly pleased. “Thyme,” she said, showing me another plant. “It fights infection and helps clear the lungs when you inhale the steam from the boiled leaves. And here, wild garlic—you can eat the leaves.”

It was a while before she’d finished showing me all that could be discovered in the forest. My Herbology had risen to four, and Foraging had gained two ranks. Out of curiosity, I pulled up Fran’s info card:

So, she did have Herbology, just as I’d suspected, but it hadn’t shown up until I had enough knowledge myself—and maybe because I’d seen her use it. Attraction had risen as well, even though my shirt was still on.

Was it really wrong to gather this kind of insight? I wasn’t creating feelings that weren’t there … just seeing what already existed. Still, it was a little unsettling.

Besides, Fran was a lovely girl, but it was Lira that filled my thoughts.

“Thank you,” I said to her when we returned to her hovel. “You’ve been more helpful than you could possibly imagine.”

Fran smiled softly. “It’s no trouble. Most folks here already know this stuff.”

An idea struck me. “Do you know much about the area?”

“A fair bit. Why?”

“Are there any dungeons nearby?”

Fran cocked her head, looking confused. “You mean like in castles?”

“No, I mean places where monsters are found—crypts, tunnels, caves … that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” Her expression shifted as she considered. “Not around here, no. But I’ve heard of a place to the northeast. Goblins and kobolds. Rats as big as dogs.” She shuddered. “Awful place.”

I grinned. “Sounds perfect. Could you give me directions?”

She frowned. “Why would you want to go there?”

“Just doing what I can to help.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “I’d be very grateful.”

“Oh, alright. Travel northeast for about four days. Look for a village called … er … Fernwick. I think that’s what the traveler said.”

I left that afternoon, wanting to keep my word to Grif and not inconvenience Fran further. Besides, it was warm enough to sleep outdoors comfortably, my arm felt much better, and I was eager to start the journey.

A village near a dungeon? It was exactly what I’d been hoping for.

Power and wealth awaited.

Chapter 8

Forge and Friends

Fernwick was a modest settlement—to put it mildly. It consisted of a collection of simple houses, a blacksmith, and a tavern called "The Old Cask." A stream ran along the perimeter, and at the center, where the roads met, stood a sturdy stone well.

Thanks to Fran’s poultice, my arm felt as good as new. With my Hunting skill up to eight and Foraging at nine, I’d quite enjoyed the walk through the forest. I felt stronger, fitter than I had in … well, ever. My Endurance had increased by two points, Luck had gained a rank, and Healing was up to four from changing the poultice each day. Wilderness had hit seven. I’d even leveled up, but I was holding off on spending skill points until I knew what challenges lay ahead.

So it was that I strode into the town with a carefree smile and a confident air, keen to find the dungeon and begin my rise to power and glory.

The only problem? I had no money, which ruled out the tavern. Maybe the blacksmith would be friendly; it was as good a place to start as any.

I followed the clanging of metal striking metal, finding the forge in the center of the village. The blacksmith was a large fellow, broad of chest and shoulder, with a round belly to match. He preferred to work shirtless, which made sense in the warmth of the day and the heat of the forge, clad only in a leather apron over coarse hemp trousers.

The walls were rough-hewn thick stone, reinforced with timber beams that lent the building a sturdy, rustic charm, while the roof was made of wooden shingles. Many nearby buildings had thatched straw, but I reasoned that might be a fire hazard for the blacksmith’s shop. An overhanging roof provided welcome shade as I propped myself against a post, watching the blacksmith work.

“You want something?” the man grunted, not looking up.

“Just arrived in town,” I replied. “Still finding my way around, and thought I’d come and say hello.”

The blacksmith jerked his head toward the bellows. “Want to make yourself useful?”

“Sure.” Helping out was a good way to make a friend, and any opportunity to increase my skills or attributes was welcome.

I dropped my pack on the ground and laid my jacket on top, then took a grip on the bellows. “Just pump away?”

“Yeah, just pump away.”

It was surprisingly hard work, and the heat of the forge soon had me working up a sweat. My arms and shoulders soon began to ache, and I looked forward to the respite I got when the blacksmith quenched his metal. Then the bellows would need to be worked again to bring the fire back up to temperature.

“That’ll do,” the blacksmith said finally, wiping his forearm across his brow. He looked up at me for the first time since I’d arrived. “Thanks, friend. You’ve saved me a heap of time and effort.”

“My pleasure,” I said, stepping back from the bellows and easing my stiff shoulders.

Endurance has gained a rank. Endurance is now level 8.

Endurance has gained a rank. Endurance is now level 9.

I smiled. “Worth it, too.” I wandered over to the water barrel, dousing my head and washing away some of the sweat.

“How can I return the favor?”

“I’m not after much,” I said, wiping my beard. I hadn’t grown a beard before, but without access to a razor, it wasn’t like I had much choice. “Some information. Maybe a bit of local knowledge about the area.”

“I can help with that,” the blacksmith said. He jutted his chin toward my rapier, which I’d left propped up against my pack. “That looks like a fine blade. Mind if I take a look?”

“Of course.” I pulled it from its scabbard and turned it, offering the hilt to the blacksmith.

The big man stepped into the sunlight, examining the blade with a practiced eye. “Fine work,” he said, tilting it to examine the edge. “Very fine work.” He turned to me. “Where did you get a blade like this?”

“It was a gift for helping a lady,” I gave a small smile. Reminders of Lira never seemed far away.

“Well, I doubt I could improve on the edge,” the blacksmith said as he handed it back.

I took it, sliding it back into its scabbard. “I used my dagger to start a few fires,” I said, pulling the smaller blade. “I’m afraid it didn’t like that one bit.”

“No, I can’t imagine it did.” The blacksmith didn’t seem too impressed with my misuse of the weapon. He examined it like he had the rapier. “Another fine weapon, but you’ve worn it to crap. Let me see what I can do with it.”

“That would be very kind.”

On a whim, I tried something new. Show dagger stats.

Weapon: Dagger. Quality: Fine. Attack 3 (-2). Speed 12.

Wow, it worked. Excited, I tried the rapier.

Weapon: Rapier. Type: Sword. Quality: Masterwork. Attack 6. Speed 9. Keen edge, crit +10%.

Hmm, a masterwork blade. That was good to know.

The blacksmith took a quarter of an hour on his grinding wheel before he was satisfied, then spent another ten minutes polishing the blade and checking its balance. “That should do you,” he said, handing it back.

Weapon: Dagger. Type: Dagger. Quality: Fine. Attack 3 (+1). Speed 12.

“Perfect,” I said. “I regret I have no money; otherwise, I’d buy you a drink at the very least.”

“Let me,” the Blacksmith said, pulling off his apron and grabbing a shirt. “You worked the bellows longer than I worked the grinding stone, and we could both use a tankard.”

That was a good way of looking at it. “I’m Kaelan,” I said, offering my hand.

“Rolf.” The big man grasped my forearm with considerable strength. It made me curious.

“Strong fellow,” I murmured. It was the first time the status had shown a strength score for anyone other than Lira or me. Endurance, too. I was getting the hang of this world.

Rolf shrugged. “Need to be in this job.”

Together, we made our way across the road to the Old Cask tavern, where Rolf leaned on the bar. “John, a tankard for Kaelan here. He’s just arrived.”

The barman gave Rolf a nod and poured the drinks. “Welcome to Fernwick,” he said to me.

“Thanks to you both,” I replied. The beer was rough but tasted good after days of nothing but water from streams.

“What brings you this way?” John asked.

“Just in search of adventure.” I gave what I hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “I have no money, and I’m in need of supplies. Looking for work, or something I can do to help. I heard rumors of some monsters in nearby caves.”

The two men exchanged a glance. “Fancy yourself a monster hunter?” John said.

“I do my best.”

“He has the weapons for it,” Rolf muttered into his tankard.

John, the barman, nodded. “There’s a mine, about a half-day west of here. We used to take iron out of it before a pack of goblins moved in. It’s hurt the village badly, truth be told.”

“Aye,” Rolf added with feeling, then took another swig.

“How many goblins?” I asked.

“A score or more,” John said. “More than any single man could handle alone, no matter how good he is with a blade.”

“I’d heard Kobolds, too? Giant rats?”

Both men shook their heads. “Just gobbos, far as I know,” Rolf said.

It was likely the tale had grown in the telling. I pondered a moment. “Would you be willing to trade me a few items if I give it a go?”

John raised an eyebrow, but it was Rolf who answered. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too extravagant. A cooking pot, a flint and steel, and a bow.”

Rolf nodded. “I have a spare pot and a flint and steel I’d be willing to give you for your work today. Got no other use for them. As for the bow … Therin is the fletcher around these parts. I expect he could be persuaded.”

“If you somehow manage it, the village would be very grateful,” John said, placing a platter of bread and cheese on the bar between us.

“Would there be a reward?” I asked delicately, biting into the food. It was the best bread I’d ever tasted, the cheese tangy and delicious.

“We haven’t got much,” Rolf said, “but we could scrape together a purse of silver and gold for you.”

“Sounds good to me.” It was the experience I wanted, but the money would be a bonus. “I get to keep what I find, and you get your mine back.”

Rolf banged his empty mug on the bar. “That’s a deal then, and one worth another drink. John?”

It was more than a few drinks before Rolf and I staggered out of John’s bar some hours later.

“You’ll be wanting a bed,” Rolf said, swaying a bit. “I’ve slept by the forge on more nights than I care to admit. It’s warm enough, and I can lend you some blankets to make it comfortable.”

“Very kind,” I replied, my words slurring. It would be a significant improvement over sleeping wild in the forest.

“And in the morning, we can call on the mayor. It would be good for him to know of your venture.” Rolf narrowed his eyes. “I know you’re a trustworthy man. I have good instincts on people, so I have no issue in getting you a decent bow off Therin. But, my friend, what you propose to do is dangerous. I can’t say I have much faith in you pulling it off without getting yourself killed.”

I had expected something like this. “Don’t worry about me, Rolf. I have a plan. Just be aware it may take me some days to put it into effect. Even if you don’t hear from me for a while, I give you my word I’ll be back victorious.”

Even if I only killed one goblin for each time I died, I knew I could do it. The challenge was reawakening in Lira’s temple and having to escape. Plus, there was the travel time.

Still, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do, and it was as good a way as any to rank up.

“Bold words, my friend, bold words.” Rolf hiccupped. “Let’s turn in and see the mayor in the morning.”

The bed by the forge was a long way from the comfort of the good mattress in my apartment on Earth, but it was an improvement over lying between the roots of a tree, and I went to sleep happy. I’d made a friend or two, and found a quest to complete.

I was eager to get started.

Chapter 9

Practice and Perfection

Rolf was as good as his word.

The following morning, I met with Bjorn, the mayor of Fernwick, who was eager for me to attempt my mission.

“A pack of goblins is no trivial matter,” he warned. “They’re vicious little bastards. Killed three of our men. Skewered right through, they were.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about them? How many there are?”

Bjorn glanced at Rolf. “What did the miners say? I can’t remember, it was a few weeks back. Twenty?”

Rolf nodded. “Yeah.”

“What’s the bounty on twenty goblins?” I said. It didn’t hurt to ask.

The mayor looked uncomfortable. “You have to understand … we’re a poor village, and without the mine …” He shrugged. “What would you be seeking?”

That was a tough question to answer, not knowing the cost of anything in this world. Was a gold piece a lot, or a pittance? Rolf hadn’t paid for their drinks. They’d gone on his tab, giving me no clue. “A fair wage is all I seek.”

The mayor nodded. “Five gold a head, then?”

No doubt they were undercutting me severely, but I had an idea. “How about five gold a head, and a house here in the village? Do you have one that’s not in use?” It was always good to have options and a place to stay.

Bjorn’s eyes glimmered. “Yes, with the loss of some men, we have several. Clean out the mine, and you can take your pick. You can even have one of their widows if you want.”

I blinked at that, but it wasn’t my place to judge their culture. “Er … thanks, I’ll think about it.”

Thanks to Bjorn and Rolf’s presence, Therin the Fletcher needed little persuasion to part with a short bow and a quiver of twenty arrows. With Rolf’s pot and flint and steel in my pack, I headed off west, toward the mine.

The forest thinned as I traveled, transforming into rolling hills and grasslands dotted with scattered trees, shrubs, and the occasional copse.

Therin had mentioned an old hunting hut just a few miles from the mine, but finding it took much of the afternoon. Eventually, I discovered it in a valley nestled between two rolling hills, with a small stream running nearby, just as Therin had said. It was peaceful and quite picturesque. The hut itself was run-down, little more than a shack, but it had a hearth, a rickety table, and even a couple of chairs. The bed was a simple affair, mostly straws and sticks on a palette raised on short wooden legs to deter creepy crawlies, but it was larger than I needed. There were even two or three blankets and a thin hemp sheet. This was luxury after sleeping on the ground.

With a couple of hours of daylight remaining, I had a plan. I had six unspent skill points, but rather than buy the bow skill, I pushed two sticks into the ground and retreated thirty paces.

How difficult could it be to learn to shoot a bow?

Harder than it should be, I had to concede an hour later. My fingers were sore from pulling the string, and few of my arrows had landed near the targets. Some of them hadn’t gone anywhere at all, merely falling off and landing at my feet as the string twanged in derision.

But my perseverance was awarded a short while later with the message I’d hoped to see.

You have gained a new skill: Archery. Archery is now level 1.

I grinned to myself and shot another quiver of arrows, just to see if there was much difference. Only one of them was a misfire, though none landed near the two sticks I was aiming for.

I gathered them up, then spent three skill points leveling my Archery to four. Perhaps I could’ve saved myself an hour by buying the skill instead, but time was one thing I had in abundance.

Now to see if it made any difference.

The first arrow passed directly over my target stick, and the second clipped it.

By the time I’d fired the whole quiver a few more times, the ground around my target was peppered with arrows in a satisfying concentration, and my Archery was up to seven.

I was a long way from challenging Robin Hood, but it was a promising start.

I went to bed content.

The following morning I spent training my Archery. I could now clip my twigs with every other shot, and I was sure my speed had improved. But my Archery took a long time to raise to eight, and after another hour or two, it seemed stuck at nine. Perhaps twigs weren’t an aggressive enough foe from which to gain further experience. I had anticipated as much and switched to my rapier instead.

Killing the wolf had granted me a base point in this weapon skill, and I wondered if it would be possible to see some gains merely practicing against the air. Surely getting a better feel for the weapon and learning the most effective way to lunge would be worth a point or two?

By the end of the day, my Weapon (Sword) skill was up to four. It was progress, but it had been hard, slow work. I dumped the last three of my unspent skill points into Sword and went to bed hungry.

The mine was only an hour or two by foot, but I didn’t want to chance it until I’d practiced my skills a little more. Tracking down a deer or some rabbits would allow me to level both my Archery and my Hunting, and that was my goal the following day.

But by the end of the next day, I’d failed to get close enough to any prey to have a chance of shooting it. Hours spent tracking deer led only to them hearing me and fleeing well before I was in range. I stood no chance on rabbits—the little bastards were way too fast. My Hunting skill hadn’t risen a point, and all I had to show for it was a rank in Foraging, and an uncomfortable stomach from eating too many berries.

I sighed. If I couldn’t find a deer to shoot, I’d have to practice on goblins instead, but that was a higher risk.

The next morning I checked my weapons, slung my quiver on my back, and set off toward the mine.

As I walked, I had time to reflect. The worst that could happen was that I’d get killed and have to explain myself to Lira when I came to. Yet that thought was enough to motivate me to stay alive.

It felt strange to be so desperate to avoid death, even though I was effectively immortal and had already met my end at Drakos’ sword more times than I could count. Apparently, facing Lira’s disappointment was a scarier prospect than death itself.

How to empty a mine of goblins, armed only with a bow I’d spent a single day practicing with and a rapier I’d only used to skewer a wolf that practically fell on it? I’d invested my spare skill points into both weapons, but would that be enough? Just how tough were the gobbos?

I reviewed my stats:

It seemed I now also had too many skills to fit on the first page. I scrolled down, using the ‘more’ function. Yep, Dodge and Etiquette were still there, just too low to make it onto the main sheet.

But the harsh reality was that I was a level four classless human with basic proficiency in Archery and Sword, versus a mine full of vicious goblins.

I’d be lucky to get through this without arriving back on Lira’s table.

Almost two weeks ago, I’d been lamenting the complete lack of tactics and strategy deployed by my D&D group. Now, here I was, my strategy consisting of entering a dungeon alone and heavily outnumbered, searching for a tactic that might lead to progress and keep me alive, far from Lira.

Had it really been nearly two weeks? It felt like less, though I’d accomplished a lot. I’d gained three levels, and a bunch of skill points. But Drakos had been level eighteen. It felt like a mountain to climb, especially since it was becoming harder to level up—as evidenced by my Archery skill. In games—if this was indeed some sort of game—the first few levels always came faster. Two weeks to reach level four might translate to months to reach eighteen.

And that would only put me on equal footing with Drakos.

I wanted total dominance. I wanted to toy with him like he had toyed with me.

But I could only take one step at a time, and the entrance to the mine was just ahead.

It gaped like a maw in the side of the rock wall, with broken carts lying abandoned outside. There was no sign of movement.

Were goblins nocturnal? Perhaps I could find out…

Show information Goblins.

Nothing happened. Maybe I needed a target to get a status page.

I waited, hunched behind a rock as I watched the mine entrance. But after an hour with no activity, my patience began to wear thin. If they weren’t coming out, I’d have to go in.

I crept forward, moving as quietly as my boots would allow over the dirt and loose stones.

What were the chances of sneaking up on the goblins and dispatching them with my dagger? There was likely an ‘Assassination’ skill somewhere, though I couldn’t recall seeing it. ‘Backstab’ would work, too.

As I reached the mine entrance, I paused to listen. But it was the stench that hit me first. The mine reeked. There were sewers that smelled better.

Taking a slow breath—through my mouth, not my nose—I edged inside.

Chapter 10

Shadows and Stabbings

It was dark—no great surprise there—and I’d forgotten to bring a torch. In fact, I didn’t have one at all.

What. An. Imbecile.

Intelligence score of seventeen? It didn’t feel like it at that moment. Just two weeks ago, I had been blaming others for their lack of tactics, yet here I was on a dungeon run without a light source. Well, there was still some light coming from outside; I’d just have to see how far I could push my luck.

I crept in farther, stopping to listen with each step, an arrow nocked on my bowstring. The tunnel burrowed into the rock, its walls rough and jagged, with dampness clinging to the air, leaving a musty scent that filled my nostrils. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some ancient beast, glistening with moisture. The tunnel descended sharply, the incline steepening as I ventured farther into the unknown. Another step, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.

With each cautious step, I listened intently.

This wasn’t a game. I might not be able to die, but this was real. Real hurt. And ‘real’ could put me back on Lira’s table, the last place I wanted to be until I had something to show her.

It was getting dark faster than I’d hoped, and the steep angle of the tunnel didn’t help. I wouldn’t get much farther without it becoming pitch black.

But there … far down the tunnel … was that a light?

I crept on, my palm growing sweaty on the bow’s shaft. It was truly dark now, but there was definitely a light ahead. The mine opening was far behind me, obscured by the tunnel's slope, and the light was a small speck in the distance. Every step was in total darkness, feeling my way through a passage filled with loose rocks and potential traps for the unwary.

This was foolishness, but I was too stubborn to turn back with nothing accomplished. Instead, I took another step, then another, drawing slowly closer to the light.

Now I could see it was a torch mounted in a sconce on the wall. Perfect, I could use that. It was burning low, almost spent, but it would be enough to guide me through the darkness. And where there was one, there would be more.

Then I spotted him: a goblin, propped up on a spear right in front of where the torch was mounted. This was no cute green creature with a potbelly. He might not be much taller than my chest, but he was vicious-looking, like something out of Lord of the Rings. With green skin, long pointed ears on a scaly head, and leather armor reinforced with bands of steel, he had wrist guards covering his forearms and well-defined muscles where his skin was exposed.

But he was asleep, standing up, draped over the spear for support. Either that or so drowsy as to make no difference.

A solitary guard? It was likely no one had challenged the goblins since they’d moved in. Had they grown complacent?

The goblin was thirty paces away, the same range as I’d been practicing with my bow, and silhouetted against the dim torchlight. I could hit him from here, of that I was sure. But the armor was daunting. Would my arrows penetrate?

I checked my nocked arrow and took another step. The goblin didn’t move.

Get as close as I can, then shoot as soon as it stirs.

I would need to kill him before he could raise the alarm. I needed to reach that torch. If I failed, if the goblin was able to call for help, I’d need to flee from the tunnel in the dark … chased by goblins … and that was not likely to end well.

Another step. No response. Another step. Nothing. Another step … and a small stone rolled beneath my foot.

I froze, drawing my bow, but still the goblin hadn’t moved.

My heart pounded in my ears.

Another step. The goblin was only twenty paces away now. Surely, I could hit him from here with enough force to penetrate the armor?

His head was bare. Could I risk a headshot? Was I accurate enough?

Another step, bow at the ready, feeling the strain in my arm.

And the goblin twitched.

I let loose the arrow, holding my breath as I watched it fly, even as I reached for another. The first flew through the tunnel, striking the goblin just beneath his chin. I’d been going for a headshot, but I’d take a throat hit; there was no armor there. The arrow sank deep; the goblin slumping to the floor with little more than a gurgle.

The spear fell, first clattering against the stone wall, then landing on the ground with a thud. It sounded very loud in the silence.

Was that it? Had I done it?

Had anyone heard the spear, or the twang of my bow?

Archery has gained a rank. Archery is now level 10.

You have gained a new skill: Stealth. Stealth is now level 1.

Stealth has gained a rank. Stealth is now level 2.

Stealth has gained a rank. Stealth is now level 3.

Did that mean it was dead?

Show information Goblin.

It was dead! I had done it!

It was tempting to rush forward and loot the corpse … which sounded more fun in my head, or in a D&D campaign. The reality of the task was far less thrilling. I approached slowly, still listening hard.

As I carefully frisked the goblin, I held my breath. Not out of any sense of trepidation or hope, but because the creature reeked so badly. If he had pockets, I couldn’t find them. There was the spear … that was probably worth taking. The arm guards, too. And the torch, though that would mean I couldn’t use the bow.

It took me several long minutes to wrestle free the buckles holding the arm guards in place and affix them to my wrists. They fit well, given how small the goblin was, but his long, thickly muscled arms helped compensate.

Show information Arm Guards.

Armor: Arm Guards. Quality: Poor. Armor Class +1.

Better than nothing.

A sound came down the tunnel, the quietest scrape of feet growing louder as it drew closer. A light source, too, moving toward me; I could see dim illumination reflecting on the walls.

A single goblin? More than one? Had they heard the spear fall?

I hesitated. Should I grab the torch and flee or try to take them on?

The steps kept coming, and there was no choice. I readied my bow.

A goblin emerged from around a bend in the tunnel, carrying a small torch in one hand.

I let fly my arrow, the range just over thirty paces. The arrow flew true, striking the goblin in his upper chest. But the creature took a step back and didn’t fall, dropping his torch to the ground as his hand went in reflex to the arrow. Long, thin fingers closed around the shaft, and he raised his head. Torchlight reflected from large, black eyes as he stared at me.

“Hu-man!” yelled the goblin, its grating, raucous shout echoing loudly through the tunnel.

Oh, shit. So much for tactics. I reached for another arrow, even as the goblin drew his blade.

Another goblin appeared, running around the corner, its blade already in hand.

The first goblin was rapidly approaching.

I needed to get out of here, and I needed to do it fast.

I nocked and fired, but I’d rushed the shot and the arrow went wide. Slinging the bow over my shoulder, I drew my rapier just as the goblin arrived. It leaped forward with a jagged blade that curved to a wicked point.

I dodged to the side, barely avoiding its stab, and swiped at the goblin’s head. The ugly green creature ducked beneath my blade, sharp teeth bared in a grimace.

But my goal had been the torch, without which I’d never escape in the dark. Now I was beside it. I reached up, grabbing its shaft just above the sconce, and yanked.

Just as the other goblin arrived. A sharp pain stabbed into my shoulder, and I almost dropped the torch. The little bastard had stabbed me! Fuck, that hurt. I spun, my shoulder screaming with the pain of it, the torch sputtering concerningly. If it went out, I’d be in real trouble. I sliced my rapier through the air, and both goblins jumped back.

“Hu-man good eating,” one goblin hissed, crabbing sideways as he looked for an opening, his jagged blade held ready.

From down the tunnel came the noise of many feet, and I took that as my cue. I swiped again, keeping both goblins at bay, then turned and ran for the tunnel entrance. My shoulder throbbed in protest, and it was an effort to hold out the torch, keeping the flames away from my hair.

“Hu-man escaping!” a goblin shouted in his squeaky, scratchy voice. I could hear their clawed feet scratching on the rocky ground as they pursued me.

How fast were goblins? Were they gaining on me? I strained my ears. It sounded like they’d fallen back. But I wasn’t done with them yet. If I was ever to make any progress, I needed to do more than take them out one at a time. I slowed my run, letting my breath come in pants, pretending to stagger as I went.

I had to time this right.

I could hear them behind me, the pounding of their feet dull thumps on the dirt. A second passed. Then another.

I spun, lunging forward with my rapier, and the lead goblin took it right in the face. I’d been aiming for his chest, but I’d forgotten how short they were, and I was on relatively higher ground. It didn’t matter. Dead was dead. Blood splashed over my blade, dark green in the light of my torch, and the goblin just stopped, my sword wedged several inches into his skull.

Heh. Green blood.

Then the other goblin arrived, the stub of my arrow still protruding from his shoulder. I’d wanted to kill at least one more, but if I could take both of them, then maybe this first trip would be worth it.

I yanked my blade free, and the stabbed goblin crumpled to the ground.

The second goblin stabbed his sword forward, and I parried, the shock of the blades meeting jarring my arm, running through my body, and twinging my injured shoulder. But I’d parried! I’d done actual sword-fighting!

High on elation, I swiped back at the goblin. The goblin blocked the blow, its wide eyes reflecting the dancing flames of the torch, but I pressed forward. I rained down blow after blow, using my height advantage to pressure the goblin, and attacking from the side of its injured shoulder. I beat back his blade, my own slicing across the goblin’s arm, then ran it through as it howled.

Two goblins dead, but now I really had to leave. The noise of more approaching goblins was rapidly growing louder.

I ran for the exit, but the torch was getting heavier, and the pain in my shoulder grew with each passing step. Just need to get to the light. Surely, they wouldn’t follow me outside, would they?

A stone turned under my boot, threatening to twist my ankle, and I stumbled but ran on. The torch sputtered, casting flickering shadows, making it harder to see what was flat earth and what was loose rock. Then a glimmer of light appeared at the top of the tunnel.

I dropped the torch with a gasp of pain, clutching my injured arm to my chest as I ran. There was barely enough light to see, but it grew with each step. Behind me, the goblins were still coming.

I burst out of the mine, running down the path toward the grassland and the shelter of trees, and the brightness of the sun had never been more welcome. I chanced a glance back, and to my relief, the goblins had stopped. They weren’t chasing me anymore.

I’d done it. I’d escaped!

My shoulder throbbed hard, and status messages filled my vision. Sword up to nine. Dodge up to four. Congratulations, a level gained.

But it was the last ones I focused on.

Piercing injury: left shoulder. -8 Health. Agility -2.

Status: Bleeding. Endurance -2. -2 Health/min.

Great. 30 Health left. If the bleeding didn’t stop, I’d be dead in fifteen minutes.

Chapter 11

Analysis and Attributes

Why hadn’t I collected healing herbs before venturing out? That was an oversight I’d never make again. Now I had to try to find some before I bled to death.

At least the goblins weren’t chasing me. Maybe the sunlight was too bright for them.

I held my arm to my chest as I staggered to the nearest copse of trees. I hung my bow on a branch, then pulled my jacket off, wincing as it wrenched at my shoulder.

I needed to stop the bleeding, and all I had was my shirt. Well, it had already had two strips ripped off it. Why hadn’t I acquired bandages, too? It was amazing that my intelligence hadn’t dropped several ranks.

But I was still alive. Lessons could be learned.

I pulled at my shirt, the thin material tearing easily. Ripping it into strips with teeth and my other hand, I carefully bound my shoulder as best I could, wincing all the while.

Status: Bleeding. Endurance -2. -1 Health/min.

Okay, that was an improvement. I now had twice as long to live.

Comfrey, yarrow, St John’s Wort … any would do, all would be better, and they could all be found in the grasslands.

Wait … how did I know that? Fran had shown me some of those plants, but they’d been in the forest! My Herbology skill was bestowing knowledge I otherwise didn’t know! Wow, that was cool.

I slipped my good arm into my jacket, letting it drape over my injured shoulder. With a grimace, I picked up my bow and went searching. Long grass where yarrow might grow. There, the distinctive white flower. And there, yellow, St John’s Wort. I needed to work fast to stop the bleeding before it was too late. I pulled both, chewing them to soften and moisten before stuffing them beneath the bandage. It wasn’t as good as a boiled poultice, but it would help. I pulled spare flowers and stuffed them into my pack.

Herbology and Healing both gained ranks.

The hut. It was an hour or two away. Maybe three, if I stopped to rest.

I checked my status sheet. Twelve Health left, and the bleeding hadn’t stopped.

All I could do was stagger on and hope. Otherwise, I’d be seeing Lira in thirteen minutes.

I pushed forward, checking my status every few steps. Nine Health. Six. Five … and then the bleeding stopped.

Well, that was something. Now, all I had to worry about was only having five Health remaining, an injured shoulder, and a two-hour hike.

I made it an hour before the pain drove me to my knees.

Each throb in my shoulder beat in time with my pulse, a deep, rhythmic ache followed by sharp stabs of pain. Even the slightest movement sent agony through my arm, and my shoulder had swollen, burning like fire.

“Just an hour,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “I’ll just rest for an hour.”

I slumped beside a tree, lying on my uninjured side, but no position was comfortable. Cradling my arm against my chest, I whimpered at the pain.

Back home, I’d be pumped full of drugs, sitting in an Emergency Department high on morphine and surrounded by doctors. Here, I was alone in the middle of a field, miles from the nearest soul—small green goblins not included. At least my medical bills would be cheaper.

The bleeding might have stopped, but I felt so close to death it would almost be welcome to wake to Lira’s face … if it weren’t for the shame. That would hurt more than any injury.

I’d abandoned her. And not just her—the people of Norathil, maybe even all of Valorah.

How could I ever look at her again?

I couldn’t. Not until I was strong enough to take down that bastard Drakos once and for all.

I didn’t know if it was shame or anger that pushed me to my feet, but I stood. How long had I rested? An hour? Two? The sun had drifted past its apex. It was early afternoon. At least I’d reach the hut before nightfall.

A hut that had no food, and the only medicine I had was the herbs in my backpack.

How had I managed to fuck this up so badly?

I checked my status page. My intelligence was still seventeen. I used to pride myself on my brains. I knew I was sharp, knew I picked things up fast. So how had I made so many mistakes?

Then again, intelligence wasn’t common sense.

I wondered how much use intelligence was in this world. Wasn’t it really my actions that decided what happened? Hell, half the attributes on my sheet were vague. Take Endurance, for example. What did that even mean in practical terms?

Endurance: long-term stamina and ability to bear physical exertion. Higher endurance allows greater activity before fatigue sets in.

I blinked. Had it been that easy all along? But then, no one had handed me a manual.

Excited, I looked through my sheet. Define Willpower. That one was pretty vague.

Willpower: mental fortitude and strength of will. Resistance to spiritual or magical attacks. Affects strength of spells.

Okay, useful. Define Resilience.

Resilience: emotional fortitude and inner strength. Resistance to negative effects, including poison, disease, and some magic.

Resilience was more physical and emotional, while Willpower was magical and mental. That kinda made sense.

I circled back to my original thought. Define Intelligence.

Intelligence: primary attribute. Modifies learning, memory, reasoning, and problem-solving. Affects spellcasting and skill acquisition, especially Arcane.

Okay, so intelligence was useful after all. And spells were something I really wanted—I’d have to figure out how to get some. Were there spell books in this world? Meanwhile, leveling intelligence—somehow—would accelerate the rate at which I gained ranks.

There was one more to check. I was pretty sure I knew what it did, but might as well verify while I was at it. Define power ‘God’.

God: power of Kaelan. Reincarnation upon death at the closest blessed altar. Companions receive accelerated skill and level gain. Activation: once per day. Accelerated experience gain. Accelerated skill gain. Duration: 5 minutes.

I blinked. I did have a power! And I hadn’t been using it! I’d thought it was just reincarnation.

And the boost for my companions was cool. Or it would be, if I hadn’t left my only companion behind.

Damn, I could have been a powerhouse by now. Five minutes a day. With careful planning, that was a game-changer.

Could I use it to boost my healing?

Before testing that, I checked if healing was worth it. Define Healing.

Healing: proficiency in injury management. A high healing score can reduce the time it takes for injuries to heal.

Time wasn’t my issue. But regeneration … that would be useful. Define Regeneration.

Nothing.

It had been worth a shot.

I had six skill points to spend from my recent leveling up. What if I used them when I activated my God power? Accelerated skill gain wasn’t quite the same as spending points … but it was worth a test.

But as I walked, I was learning. And I realized that I’d covered several hundred yards while messing with my sheet, and my shoulder had hardly twinged. Must be an Endurance thing.

Maybe Fortitude was the secret to unlocking regeneration. Define Fortitude.

Fortitude: overall physical health and life force. Affects health regeneration, resistance to fatigue, and ability to resist the effects of significant injury.

Perfect. Now, how to level it. It wasn’t a skill. Could I use the points? Buy Fortitude.

Primary Attributes cost twenty skill points to level. Insufficient skill points available.

Twenty points! That was expensive, but it was something to consider for later.

I sighed. I wouldn’t likely derive any benefit from my God power while slowly walking along injured. The use would be lost, and the day wasn’t done. Perhaps there’d still be a chance to take advantage of the power, and if not … at least I now knew I had it.

With any luck, I’d be home soon. Well, back at the hut, at any rate; it wasn’t really ‘home’. These rolling hills all looked the same, and I could really use a compass right about now. I couldn’t be too far away. Didn’t that copse of trees look familiar?

But as I crested the final hill, the hut wasn’t the first thing I saw. It was the trail of smoke that rose, pencil-thin, up into the air.

I knew I hadn’t used the hearth. I’d had no reason to.

I crouched lower, trying to ignore the way the pain in my shoulder spiked, creeping forward until the hut came into view. It lay in its valley, as peaceful as could be, save that there was a horse tethered to a nearby tree, a saddle propped against the wall.

Therin, maybe? He knew about the hut, but I couldn’t think why he’d come and visit.

What were the odds of a stranger stumbling on it? Low.

For a moment, I considered abandoning it and striking out for a quiet spot in the wild to rest and sleep. But I needed the hearth to boil water and make a proper poultice. Too, the hut was the best place from which to launch attacks on the mine, and I was loath to give up that advantage.

What if my house guest was hostile? In this world, that was more likely than not. I was down to five Health, injured, and couldn’t even draw my bow.

But I could still use my rapier if I was fast and lucky. If I wasn’t … I’d be seeing Lira again.

That assumed the occupant was a threat. I could talk first and attack later, but it was best to be ready.

If I were quiet, I could get close to kick open the door and surprise my visitor. Did that count as stealth?

I had nothing else to use my power for today. Activate God Power. I hoped it was as simple as that.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

Good. It was as simple as that.

I inched forward, each placement of my feet as quiet as I could make it to maximize my stealth. The door was twenty yards away. Ten. I could hear movement in the hut. Five. A shadow behind the small window. I was at the door.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I yanked open the door and dashed in, dropping to a crouch, my rapier ready.

I stared in surprise.

It wasn’t Therin. It wasn’t even a stranger.

It was Lira.

Chapter 12

Healing and Hearth

Lira spun around, shock written all over her beautiful face.

Gone were her priestly robes, bodice, and skirt, and in their place were rough-hewn peasant garb: hemp trousers and shirt, her feet bare on the floor of the hut. Her hair was tucked beneath a cowl, the hood framing her face. But nothing could hide the shape of her body or the beauty of her face.

Her eyes widened as she recognized me. “Oh, my God!” Then her gaze fell to my shoulder, and her eyes grew even wider.

I straightened slowly, lowering my rapier. “What are you doing here?” That didn’t come out right. I tried again. “How did you find me?”

“I’m your High Priestess, my God. I can track you wherever you go.” Her gaze dropped, a flush of color creeping into her cheeks as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, unable to meet my eyes. “I apologize for taking so long. Drakos prevented me from leaving for several days.”

“Drakos?” I had taken a step toward her before I’d realized I’d moved. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

“Oh … um … no, nothing too bad.” Lira glanced away, her fingers fidgeting as her shoulders tensed. “A slap here and there.”

I was going to kill him. Rip out his entrails and make him eat them. I was going to snap every finger off the hands he’d laid on her.

It was an effort to keep my anger from my face as I reached within her hood to gently cup her cheek. “Where did he hit you? Does it hurt still?”

“It was nothing my healing magic couldn’t fix.” For a moment, she pressed her cheek into my palm as she gazed up at me, her eyes wide and bright. Then she stirred, her cheek slipping away from my touch. She pulled off her cowl, letting it fall to the table nearby, and shook out her long blonde hair. “Would you like me to heal your shoulder, my God? It looks awfully painful.”

“Can you?”

“Of course.” She gave me a smile. Then it faded as quickly as it came, and she looked unsure. “It … it would be easier if I touched you. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice husky. I cleared my throat. “That would be fine, thank you.” I shrugged the jacket off my other shoulder, letting it drop to my hand, then threw it on the bed behind me.

God Power Deactivated. Stealth has gained 2 ranks.

Guess that was my five minutes. Not a bad gain for creeping up on a hut.

Lira raised her hands, touching my bare shoulder so gently, but it still made me flinch.

“Sorry,” she murmured. That delicate crease of her brow returned as she focused, and her hands began to glow with a green-white light.

It was a strange sensation, like pouring ice-cold water on a burn. Except Lira’s magic caressed my skin, penetrating within, and wherever it touched, the pain subsided.

“All done,” she whispered as the light faded.

I glanced down at my shoulder. Even the dried blood had been cleansed from my skin. I flexed my arm, and there was no pain at all. “Thank you, Lira.”

She looked up at me, giving me one of her trademark smiles. “My pleasure.”

I stared at her, standing so close. Her face was inches away, her lips curved into that alluring smile, her wide, expressive eyes locked onto mine. I wanted to kiss her, to take her in my arms.

Instead, I stepped back, turning away. I had no right to touch this woman—certainly not while Drakos still lived. Hell, she probably was only here because she had to be, in her capacity as my High Priestess—whatever that meant. She should be disappointed in me. She should hate me.

I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to check her information window and see how much her Devotion had fallen, how shaken her Faith had become.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” I said, instead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.” I turned back to face her, hoping my sincerity showed in my eyes. “Please understand: I left because I wasn’t strong enough to fight Drakos. I left to grow stronger so that I could come back and finish the task for which you summoned me. I won’t let Drakos live a moment longer than I need to. I’ll kill him, just as soon as I can. I’ll save the people of Norathil, I promise you, Lira.”

She stood there, gazing at me, as lovely as the first day I’d seen her. Even such coarse clothing couldn’t detract from her beauty. Her skin was as flawless as I remembered, her eyes sparkling, her smile captivating. She was perfect.

“I know, Kaelan,” she said, her voice as gentle and as serene as I’d ever heard it. Gone was the light-hearted optimism and the eager-to-please fluff. There was nothing but sincerity in the simplicity of her reply.

“You … you know?”

“I wasn’t always sure,” she said. “At first … please forgive me for this … I doubted. I wondered if you’d fled because you thought you couldn’t win. I wondered if you might not ever want to return. I was weak … I’m sorry.

“But as I followed after you, I met some of the people whose paths you’d crossed. The girl, Fran. She spoke of your willingness to learn, and your respect for the hamlet. Rolf, the blacksmith. He spoke of how you offered freely, without expecting anything in return.” Lira smiled, her eyes gazing up at me with the passion of her faith. “And I knew. I knew you were here for the purpose for which I summoned you. That every day, you were striving toward it.” Her brow furrowed with that small line, making me want to reach out and smooth it away. “I don’t understand why you don’t merely use the powers I know you’re capable of, but,”—she smiled again—“I don’t claim to understand the ways of a god.”

“I’m not—” I stopped myself. I’m not a god. But was that even true? My character sheet said I was. I was immortal. I had the powers of a god. Maybe not the powers Lira hoped I’d have, but still … powers. I could learn. I could learn everything with the powers I’d been granted.

Perhaps this was my purpose in this world. Perhaps killing Drakos and freeing Valora was my way home. If I learned all I needed, if I mastered the magics of this world, maybe I could even send myself home … once Drakos was no more.

“You’re not what, Kaelan?” Lira’s voice brought me back.

“I’m not going to stop until I’ve done what you summoned me to do.”

She smiled again. Then, abruptly, her face fell. “Oh, no!”

“What?”

“The stew!”

She rushed past me, brushing against me in the small confines of the hut, and pulled the ladle from the pot above the hearth. The savory aromas of hearty broth assailed my senses, and my mouth began to water. How had I missed it? I’d been so focused on Lira. That was how.

She bent over the pot, the material of her trousers tightening distractingly over her rump. I couldn’t help but run my eyes over her. She glanced back, and damn, she’d caught me checking her out. But she only smiled before turning back to stir the stew.

“It’s fine. A little drier than I’d intended. I can add some more water.” She looked at me again. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Mmm,” she said. “I thought you’d lost a little weight.”

I glanced down at myself. It was true that my stomach didn’t bulge as much as it had before. Hell, I was feeling fitter than I had in a long time, despite the lack of decent meals. A week of walking, hunting, and subsisting mostly on berries had worked wonders. But I would need my strength for what was to come, and a bowl of Lira’s stew sounded delicious.

Except I didn’t have any bowls. “I’m sorry, I’m a little under-equipped. I only have the pot. I don’t even have a spoon.”

“Oh, I have enough for both of us,” she said, crossing to where a brown and dirty travel robe lay folded in one corner of the hut. Beside it sat a pair of well-used and dirty boots, and beneath was her pack. Lira rummaged until she withdrew pewter bowls and plates, knives, forks, and spoons. Two of everything. “Shall we eat outside?”

I carried the chairs outside, and we ate before the hut in the tranquility of our small valley. Lira’s horse barely glanced at us, enjoying its dinner of long, juicy grass. Afterward, Lira collected the bowls, and we watched the sun dip slowly behind the hills.

“It’s very pretty here,” Lira said. “Peaceful.”

“Yes, it is.”

“That stream is convenient. I thought I would bathe before bed.”

“Good idea.” After fighting in the mine, I needed to bathe, too. “I’ll go after you.”

“I only have one towel,” she said. “I should have brought a second.”

“That’s fine. You go ahead and use it.”

“What will you use?”

“It’s not cold out here. I’ll air dry.”

“You’re such a gracious God.” She lowered her eyes. “I’ll sleep on the floor, of course. Or outside, if that would be preferable.”

“No way.” I shook my head. “You have the bed. I’ve grown quite accustomed to sleeping in the wild.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly sleep in the bed while you’re on the ground.”

I glanced away, my heart racing. All this talk of bathing and beds was distracting me in the most awkward way, and there was far too much potential for the abuse of power in our dynamic.

“We could share?” Lira suggested tentatively, and I whipped my head back around toward her. Did she mean…?

She looked down to where her hands were fidgeting in her lap. “It is the obvious solution, and … the bed is big enough for two.” She glanced up. “If you want to?”

Boy, did I ever want to. But I still had some self-respect.

“It’s fine. I’d prefer you to take the bed. I’ll be quite comfortable on the floor.”

“Oh.” She sounded despondent. “Well, if you think that’s best.”

The silence lingered. Was she waiting for me to say something?

I swallowed. “I … er … well, it probably is for the best.” That didn’t sound right. I tried again. “I’ll be just fine. Quite comfortable. Really.”

She gave me a small smile, like she didn’t believe me. Then she rose. “I think I’ll bathe, then.”

I was glad the water would be cold. I’d need a cold bath after this.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 13

Turing and Torture

Lira stood before her chair, just a few feet away.

“I’m glad it’s warm this evening,” she said, grasping the hem of her rough shirt and pulling it over her head. There was a flash of bare skin before I averted my eyes. “I do so dislike being cold. It’s a weakness of mine.”

I turned my head to study the silhouette of the hill on the far side of the valley, reflecting that it was indeed a very mild night.

“I don’t suppose you have weaknesses, do you?” she said. Her clothing rustled, then landed on her chair with a soft thump.

“Many,” I muttered. I could perhaps have legitimately turned to her when I answered her, but the prudent thing to do was to watch the grass waving gently in the wind on the distant slope. She’d taken her shirt off, after all, and I doubted she had anything covering her breasts beneath. Whether she wore any undergarments beyond that was, frankly, none of my concern.

“I didn’t know Gods could have weaknesses,” she said, and there was movement in the corner of my eye. As if she’d pushed down her trousers and was tugging them off her legs.

“Well, I have loads.” I’m only human. I glanced at the glow of the evening sky, wondering if any stars had begun to appear.

“I can’t imagine what they are,” she said, with another rustle of clothing. “You seem perfect to me.”

I had no answer to that. Instead, I looked down toward the stream, as it was in the opposite direction to Lira. It was only a little stream, cold and barely up to my knees when I’d washed in it the night before. It flowed between a few rocks, worn smooth with time.

There was another quiet rustle as Lira gathered her clothing, then stepped behind me into the hut, only to emerge a moment later, presumably with her towel.

Though there was plenty of space between my chair and the hut, for reasons I didn’t understand, she chose to walk in front of me, not behind. She had her towel—a small thing, barely adequate—draped over one arm instead of wrapped around her. Whatever undergarments she owned were clearly folded with her clothes somewhere in the hut.

I swallowed hard, looking at the ground as she walked by, but I still couldn’t help but see an expanse of curvy, creamy, smooth skin.

“I won’t be long,” she said as she passed.

“Take your time.” My voice was croaky, but then my throat was dry. I wished I had some wine, or maybe a whisky.

I watched Lira’s horse awhile. It seemed oblivious to my torture, not even casting me a sympathetic glance.

The splashes and gasps of Lira’s bathing reached my ears. Evidence that the water was still cold. Good; that would help when it came to my turn.

Damn, it was going to be a long, torturous, frustrating night. The most beautiful woman I’d ever known in my life was bathing naked a couple dozen feet away, and she’d be sleeping in my bed.

Surely, she still couldn’t find me so desirable after I’d abandoned her to Drakos’ tender care. I’m going to kill that fucker if it is the last thing I do. Surely, her Devotion had taken a hit, and her Faith was down.

I pulled up her info card—an act of self-flagellation that might help curb the heat of my raging blood:

I was betting she hadn’t gained nineteen points in Restoration off one single spell. Maybe the sheet was only showing it now that I knew she had it; I hadn’t before. But that was incidental.

She’d gained two levels since I’d seen her last. Maybe my companion-boosting God power was to thank. Both Faith and Devotion were up by six points each. If she had six points, like I did, had she put three in each time she’d leveled? That would mean that she could control it. Perhaps not as directly as I did, with numbers and character sheets. Maybe she simply chose to be more Faithful and more Devoted. The Attraction, I had to assume, was growing organically.

The point was, even though I’d abandoned her, she’d chosen to tie herself even more strongly to me.

Was that free will? Or was she, effectively, an NPC? Programmed to follow this path?

Was she even truly human?

I needed to know. I needed to be sure that she had the right to choose.

How could I test her?

“Would you like to use my towel?” Her voice snapped me out of my reverie. She’d snuck up on me, barefoot on the grass, as silent as could be.

I turned to her in reflex, without thinking.

The towel was wrapped around her, low on her breasts and high on her thighs, barely covering her. But before I could answer, she let it slip, catching it in one hand and holding it out to me. It might have been dusk, but there was light enough to catch the smooth curves of her pert breasts, her nipples raised and pointed. She must be cold.

“Thanks,” I said automatically, taking the towel. It was damp from her body.

She gave me a smile. “I’ll wait for you inside.”

Again she walked in front of me, giving me another smile as she slipped inside the hut.

Dammit, I’d watched her. Stupid Willpower.

Cold bath first, and then I’d test her. I needed to know how much of this she was in control of.

I stripped off, leaving my clothes on my chair, then walked down to the river. It was brisk, to say the least, and I washed quickly.

What if the way Lira was acting was just the way she was?

What if she didn’t actually want me at all?

Easy with the smiles, because such was her nature. Casual with nudity, because that was the simplicity of Valoran culture.

Here I was, assuming she didn’t have the choice, but maybe she did have the choice, and her choice was to be just my High Priestess. Nothing more.

Yeah, that had to be it. I was making assumptions about things that simply weren’t there.

But that didn’t explain the Attraction stat, along with the ‘it applies only to Kaelan’. It had ranked up since I’d first seen her, too.

Dammit. That wholly undermined any argument of indifference. Back to square one.

I doused my head in the cold water, trying to get back some control. It still wasn’t enough. I lay down, letting the stream wash over me, holding myself in the water until I was shivering.

Then I got out and strolled back up to the hut, the thick grass soft under my feet.

Her towel was on the back of my chair, where I’d left it. I picked it up, intending to use it to dry myself, but instead, I held it to my face, inhaling the scent of her. A sweet, fresh fragrance, with just a hint of musk. It warmed me from within.

Shaking my head, I donned my thin shorts. She might be naked in there for all I knew, but I was damned if I was going to walk in nude. I had enough worries without that.

How could I test her?

I stepped into the hut, closing the door behind me. The embers of the hearth cast a low light that lit the single room well enough. It was warm, too. Welcome, after my prolonged submersion.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the bed with me?” Lira asked. She was lying on one side, facing me, her head propped on her hand. The sheet was up only to her waist.

I swallowed hard.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course, Kaelan.”

I sat on the floor beside the hearth, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows that danced across the rough-hewn walls of the hut. The orange glow illuminated Lira’s form, accentuating the curves of her body, the sheet barely covering her hips. I forced myself to focus on the glowing embers instead of the enchanting figure just a few feet away.

How to do this. I could just ask ‘did she want me’, and her programming could answer for her. If indeed she was a program, an NPC, an automaton … or whatever. I needed some kind of Turing test.

I thought hard. What would she say if she weren’t truly human—or if she didn’t know she wasn’t?

How would a computer game character respond to philosophical questions? Poorly, for sure. In denial or with deflection, most likely. It was a place to start.

“Have you ever wondered if we’re part of something bigger? Like … something might be watching us or controlling us?”

“Hmm.” The noise was half-amusement, half-contemplation.

“I’m a High Priestess. My life has been spent wondering that very thing. In fact, it may be the reason I chose this path.” She paused, as if contemplating her own journey. “It’s the search for truth, isn’t it? The search within all of us to balance who we are against the forces that seem to pull us this way and that.

“Religion … that age-old question … did God make man, or did man make God? I admit, it was one about which I’ve often had my doubts … until you.”

Damn, but that was a good answer. And somewhere within it, I’d turned to stare at her. Just listening to her voice … watching her speak.

The sheet was still lying only across her hips. She was so beautiful. It was an effort to look away. But I forced myself to.

Willpower has gained a rank. Willpower is now level 7.

Helpful, thanks.

Alright, so she’d passed the philosophy test. What else?

The direct approach.

“Are you free to make your own choices?”

“I’m not sure any of us are truly free,” Lira said, her tone thoughtful. “I suppose we’re all products of our upbringing, our culture, the world around us. We might like to think we’re in control, but are we not just responding the way we’ve learned to respond? I don’t know, truth be told.”

Wow. Okay, now I was doubting whether I was even free.

But Lira hadn’t finished. “If you’re asking whether I choose to be here, choose to be a High Priestess, then the answer is yes. With all my heart.”

Her answer should have reassured me, yet my heart raced not just from her beauty but from the uncertainty she represented. I was drawn to her, but that very attraction made it harder to accept her claim of free will. Was I falling for a woman or a well-crafted illusion?

She’d passed both tests so far. Perhaps what was needed was something more … obscure.

“In a town, there’s a barber who shaves everyone who does not shave themselves. Does the barber shave himself?”

Lira gave a laugh. “What is the purpose of that question?”

“Just to see how you answer it.” But her response was already my answer. Her humor, the way she’d seen straight through it. Could a computer do that?

“Well, it’s a paradox, isn’t it? There is no answer.” She smiled. “Maybe the barber only trims.”

She’d passed everything I could throw her way, but I had one last idea. Surely, a programmed NPC would only have the knowledge they needed for their role in this world. But would Lira have a sense of her past, her childhood, her reasons for her life choices?

“Why did you become a High Priestess?” I asked, bracing myself for her response. This was the critical moment that would either confirm my doubts or shatter them completely.

Again she smiled. “I became a High Priestess because I found you.”

It was the first test she’d failed, the answer so obvious and predictable. I turned my gaze to the hearth and stared at it in dismay. The other replies had been so good, I’d almost come to believe⁠—

“Before I found you, I was actually a priestess of Sharlath. But when Drakos came and slaughtered our armies, I knew we would need help from another god. I knew Sharlath wouldn’t aid us.”

I looked back at her. “Why?”

She gave a short, mocking laugh. “Sharlath is a Spider God. If I’d somehow managed to summon her, she’d have probably eaten me. Then Drakos, and everyone else, too. A bit like curing the patient by killing them.”

“You’re not a priestess of Sharlath anymore?”

“No, I’m not.” She gave a small shrug, her breasts reflecting the dancing light of the fire. “It’s no great loss. The priesthood of Sharlath comprises … um … well, they tend to be quite old, rarely open to new ideas, and a little … um … reluctant to do anything to upset the status quo.” Mercenary, selfish, power-hungry old men. But Lira was too gracious to say so. “I gave up on Sharlath when my Divination magic blessed me in finding you. That’s why I’m a high priestess. I’m afraid I’m your only priestess.”

“Fine by me. I don’t need more than one.”

And it actually made sense … from her perspective. It didn’t address why her Divination magic had perceived my dungeon mastering as God-like powers, but maybe that was an error ascribed to the complexities of looking across realms. If she’d somehow been inside my mind, then … yes, it could’ve appeared like I’d controlled the world, just like she’d said when first we’d met. That still didn’t address how I’d actually gained God powers when she’d summoned me, or the strange interface that apparently only I could see. Maybe it was a consequence of the magic she’d used or a feature of the mysterious pyramidal temple I’d woken in. Or maybe I’d never know.

But I couldn’t deny her responses had been as human as I could possibly have dreamed. There was a strength in her conviction, an unwavering belief in her choices that captivated me. I found myself admiring her resilience.

I wasn’t sure I could’ve done better myself.

So Lira was human. Fully, thoroughly, human. I was convinced of that now. She was a living, breathing soul, and likely everyone else in this world was, too.

It made it all the more important to save them.

If I didn’t rid Valorah of Drakos and his men soon, all her people would be vulnerable to tyranny and abuse, just like Lira could have been.

I turned to gaze at Lira once again. She was beautiful, she was devoted to me, and she was so very nude in my bed.

I hesitated, my eyes lingering on her for a moment longer. “We should … get some sleep,” I finally said, forcing the words out. “Busy day tomorrow.”

Willpower has gained a rank. Willpower is now level 8.

That was getting irritating.

“Alright, Kaelan.” She lay back down, drawing the sheet up over her. “Good night.”

I pulled my blanket over me and lay down beside the hearth. The floor was hard, but that was the least of my problems. I had a lot on my mind.

“I hope I answered your questions to your satisfaction.” Her voice sounded uncertain.

“You’ve never been anything but perfectly satisfactory,” I said, with feeling.

“Oh. That’s good.”

Silence lingered for a few minutes.

“If you’re uncomfortable or change your mind … just slip in here with me whenever you want.”

Dammit. Now, I really wasn’t going to get any sleep.

Chapter 14

Deer and Daring

I must’ve finally drifted off, because Lira woke me when she rose.

The sun was up, bright light spilling through our solitary window. It was more than enough to see her as she padded by, perfectly naked.

I lay still as she pulled on her trousers and shirt, no undergarments, then grabbed a pot and went outside.

By the time she returned, I was dressed, my rapier, bow, and dagger leaning against my pack. I was going back to the mine. There were more goblins to kill, more levels to gain. Work to do. Drakos wasn’t going to kill himself … more’s the pity.

“Good morning, my God.” She flashed me a smile as she came back in. “I was going to make some tea. Would you like some?”

“No, thank you. I need to get going. It’s a bit of a walk to a mine near here, and I’ve been hunting goblins there.”

Her eyebrows raised. “That sounds dangerous.” Then she blushed. “Not for you, obviously.”

“Well, it’s good to know that you’ll be here, should I get injured again.”

“Don’t you want me to come with you?”

Hell, no. “It’s dangerous, just like you said. I wouldn’t be able to protect you, and I can’t risk your safety.”

“But I don’t mind⁠—”

“Lira. I want you to stay here and stay safe.”

She looked down. “Yes, Kaelan. Of course.”

I stepped outside, looping my rapier and dagger into my belt as I did. Then I checked my quiver was secure on my back, with its seventeen remaining arrows, looped my bow over my shoulders, nodded to Lira’s horse, and headed off west.

I didn’t go directly to the mine, but wandered broadly in that direction. I’d learned from my mistakes, and I wanted to be properly prepared this time.

It didn’t take long to find a dry, sturdy branch, and I took out my dagger and split and frayed the tip as I walked. A copse of trees provided resin, which I used to coat the top third of the branch, soaking it deeply into the cuts I’d made. A dead log provided bark, which I cut thin and wrapped tightly around my branch, holding it all together with plant fibers that I tied around it.

I held out my new torch, examining it critically. It wasn’t a Maglite, but it would serve.

You have gained a new skill: Crafting. Crafting is now level 1.

Damn right.

I wedged my torch into my pack, then went to gather healing herbs. Lira might be back in the hut, ready to use her Restoration magic, but if I was cut and started bleeding again, I’d need to heal myself to get back there. It would do no good to die now, only to wake up in the temple a week’s travel away.

Some berries provided breakfast (point in Foraging), but I wanted to try hunting again. I had the whole day, and my Archery was a lot higher. But after creeping up on the hut the night before with my God power activated, so was my stealth. The deer didn’t stand a chance.

It took an hour to find a small herd of deer, and I crouched low in the grass, my bow in hand. I crept forward slowly, inch by painstaking inch, determined not to miss my chance this time.

But they kept moving. They would graze awhile, then amble on a bit before stopping again, then trot a short distance as another patch of juicy grass appealed. Each time they moved, I had to creep that much farther. After an hour of this, I wanted to run at them screaming and machine gun down the whole damn herd. But I gritted my teeth, checked the wind direction for the thousandth time, and inched forward once more.

At last, I got close enough to a young buck to draw my bow. The range was about forty paces, longer than I was used to, but I aimed carefully and let fly. My arrow hit him in the shoulder, and the whole herd took off as one.

Stealth went up two, Archery gained a point.

I hadn’t really expected to kill him with one shot, but now I had to track him down, not least to put him out of his misery.

It took me another hour to follow the trail of his blood through the grass, and when at last I found him, he was lying on his side, breathing bubbles of blood. Grimly, I took my dagger to his throat.

It was a far cry from ordering pizza.

Hunting has gained a rank. Hunting is now level 9.

Hunting has gained a rank. Hunting is now level 10.

I figured I was still a few hours’ walk from the mine, so I built a fire with moss and dried grass for tinder, twigs for kindling, and logs for fuel. Then I crafted a spit (crafting gained a point), and cut strips of venison from my kill.

The smell of roasted meat filled the air as I sat on a rock, idly turning the spit. I’d successfully hunted a deer, and it marked a significant point for me. I’d raised both my Archery and Hunting skills up, used my Stealth to get close enough, tracked it after the first shot, and built a fire on which to roast it.

It might not seem much to some hardened survivalist living in the south of the USA, but for a marketing executive from Boston with a D&D hobby, it was a pretty major accomplishment.

I gazed out over the rolling hills of the grasslands as I ate my lunch. The scenery was beautiful, the air as fresh as I’d ever breathed. I had Lira waiting back at the hut for me, roasted venison to bring her, and I couldn’t die.

I was a god. A fucking real-life god.

Did it get much better than this?

The entrance to the mine lay ahead, and I’d screwed up again.

It was late afternoon. I was against the clock, for the simple reason that if I kicked the gobbo hornet nest, they could come after me as soon as it got dark. And it would be getting dark in only an hour or two.

I wouldn’t be able to run to the safety of bright sunshine if the sun had gone down.

I’d left it too late. The crafting, the hunting, the foraging—it had all taken too much time. Especially those damn deer, ambling on a half-dozen paces every time I was about to take my shot.

Either I called it a day and went back to the warm smiles and pleasing curves of Lira, or I got off my ass and went to kill some more goblins. I had a date to keep with Drakos and only one choice if I wanted to pay him back for daring to lay his hands on my High Priestess.

I still hadn’t spent the skill points I’d been sitting on from when I leveled up after the last run, and now I dumped two into Archery and four into Sword, keeping a balance between ranged and close combat. It seemed sensible to focus on weapon skills while I still had goblins to kill. That brought both Archery and Sword to thirteen.

The tunnel was as empty as before, but the reeking stench of goblins seemed stronger now. Fuck, it smelled like a tannery and a sewage plant had an illicit love child.

That darkness closed in, but I held off on my torch. First, I wanted to use my bow if I could, and second, as soon as I lit it, I’d be seen. What I really wanted was to pop whoever was on guard duty, then run for it again. I was in no rush; one gobbo at a time worked for me.

I crept on down the passage, feeling my way with each step. I’d had practice at this now, and hunting the deer had helped. It wasn’t fast progress, but it was steady and quiet, and that was good enough.

They had their torch burning again, brighter than before. But as I drew closer, I saw they’d learned, too. There wasn’t just one guard on duty; there were two of them.

Fine. I could manage two, especially if I could take the first one down with a single shot. Kill one with an arrow, take the other with my rapier if I had to, grab their torch again as it was faster than lighting mine, and hightail it out of town before reinforcements arrived.

It was the kind of tactics any dungeon master would be proud to see from his players.

But they weren’t asleep this time. How far could they see in the dark?

I’d soon find out. I crept closer, an arrow nocked on my string, my bow half-drawn. Sixty paces. Fifty. They hadn’t seen me yet, but they were silhouetted against the torchlight behind them. Forty. I’d hit deer at this range, but he hadn’t had the advantage of armor.

Thirty-eight … and a loose stone skittered along the passage.

Both goblins swung around, their eyes widening as they spotted me. I cursed under my breath, my stealth not as stealthy as I’d hoped.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

I let fly my arrow, and it took one of them in the chest. He staggered back but didn’t fall.

“Hu-man!” screamed the other goblin, then ran at me.

This wasn’t going to plan. This far from the torchlight, it was too dark to fight him effectively, and it would take too long to light my torch. I quickly nocked another arrow, shooting it off at the dark figure running toward me. The goblin jerked; a hit, but I had no idea where or how bad. I looped my bow and pulled my rapier, my dagger in my other hand.

Then the goblin was on me.

Another problem. He could see in the dark, and I couldn’t. I quickly realized that fighting him in the gloomy passage was a fast way to get killed, so I swiped my rapier toward him, then dodged around him and ran for the torchlight.

New plan: kill the injured goblin, and then turn and deal with the one behind me.

It all sounded so good in my head. Right until my boot snagged a rope the goblin must’ve known was there. The trap went off, and the net fell from fuck knows where. I was entangled in thick rope, heavy with weights tied to its edges.

“Hu-man now ours!” the goblin behind me hissed.

I turned as best I could, stabbing my rapier through the net toward him. The little shit parried my blow, and the other goblin stuck his sword into my thigh.

Puncture wound: left leg. Agility -2. Armor Class -1. Speed -4. Dodge -4. Health -8.

Grimacing at the pain, I tried to turn my rapier to defend myself, but the net made it impossible. The first goblin leaped on me, and I screamed as his teeth tore into my wrist. The rapier dropped from fingers I could no longer control, but I still had my dagger, and the fucker was right there. I sunk it into the side of his neck, pulled it out, and stabbed him again. The goblin went limp, his weight dragging me down.

Before I could think of a way out, a spear point appeared just an inch from my throat.

“Stop moving, hu-man, or die.”

I froze. If he killed me, I’d have a long walk back and a lot of explaining to do to Lira. I was probably fucked anyway, but while I was still alive, I might as well learn what I could.

Bite injury: right wrist. Agility -3. Right hand disabled. -7 Health.

God Power Deactivated.

Attack has gained 3 ranks.

Defense has gained 2 ranks.

You have gained a new skill: Weapon (Dagger). Weapon (Dagger) is now level 1.

Dagger has gained 5 ranks.

Archery has gained 2 ranks.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 6. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills. You have gained a Perk.

Cool, a Perk. Whatever that was. And that was a lot of ranks for a short flurry of activity. My God Power was awesome.

The goblin snarled at me, pushing the spearpoint forward until it pricked the skin of my throat.

I let my dagger drop to the floor and lay still, entangled in the net, the goblin I’d killed leaking green blood all over my leathers.

Fuck, my wrist hurt like hell.

Chapter 15

Capture and Crates

There was a sense of freedom in being resigned to my fate.

The mission had changed from ‘kill gobbos’ to ‘learn what I could before they ate me or stabbed me to death’. I just hoped the latter came before the former, not least because my body disappeared when I died.

I was pretty certain of that. Otherwise, I’d have been knee-high in dead Kaelans by the afternoon of the first day.

Besides, it was an added fuck you bonus to the gobbos. You can kill me, boys, but you don’t get to eat me.

My wrist throbbed like hell—a painful reminder they’d already taken a bite.

The sound of a dozen feet echoed down the passage, and a moment later, a half-dozen more gobbos arrived.

“Hu-man!” Heh, I’d just realized what they reminded me of: they sounded like Ferengis from Star Trek.

“You kill Gat! We kill you!”

“Eat you and roast you and put you on spikes!” Presumably not in that order.

Four of them grabbed the net in which I was entangled, and I bodily lifted into the air, hanging between them like a low-slung hammock. Very low-slung. Short-asses.

We set off down the tunnel, but after a dozen feet, the movement jostled Gat—or whichever dead gobbo it was—off my body. He slipped to the floor where they left him, but progress picked up after that. Lighter load, I supposed.

As they walked, I tried to examine the wound in my wrist by the light of passing torches, but it was too dim to see clearly. I could tell there was a chunk missing. I wondered why it wasn’t bleeding. I mean, it was, but I wondered why I didn’t have the bleeding status, with the drain on my health. Perhaps the steady drip, drip, drip wasn’t life-threatening in the same way the deep wound in my shoulder had been. It hurt a hell of a lot more, though.

The passage wound deeper into the mine. We passed off-shoots and encountered forks; the gobbos didn’t hesitate in their path. Torches were mounted on the wall every thirty paces or so, offering brief patches of brightness, enough for me to examine the net for a few seconds, then dim light, and then near-darkness until we reached the next torch. It didn’t faze the goblins; their pace never changed or faltered. They had low-light vision, after all, and were managing just fine.

We passed areas where the gobbos lived or, at least, hung out. Piles of blankets and broken wooden crates, with some shifted into arrangements resembling tables and chairs. Bones littered the floor of various sizes, some distinctly human-looking.

These areas stank like fuck—an acrid mix of sweat, rot, and unwashed bodies that clawed at my throat. Scattered remnants of their meals littered the ground: gnawed bones and some foul stew left to sour in the corners. I had to cover my nose and swallow hard or risk throwing up over their nice net.

Our little procession came to an abrupt stop.

“What have you there, Assk?”

“Hu-man. Assk capture hu-man.” There was a distinct note of smugness in the goblin’s scratchy voice.

A new goblin walked into view. He looked bigger and meaner than the others, and his armor was noticeably better. He pulled a wickedly curved knife, and before I could react, he stabbed it into my arm just for the hell of it. Fucker. I glared at him, clutching the wound as blood dripped down over my fingers.

Puncture wound: right arm. Agility -1. Attack -1. Health -3.

Status: Bleeding. Endurance -1. -0.5 Health/min.

Great. Now I was bleeding. But at that rate, there was a good chance it would stop naturally before I bled to death.

“Put hu-man in cage. I go tell Manchee.”

“No! Assk tell Manchee! Assk capture hu-man!”

The goblins hoisted me up and tossed me into a wooden crate, still tangled in the net. They then fastened the lid, plunging me into darkness. The air quickly grew stale, and the crate reeked even worse than the gobbos. What was I lying on? Bones shifted beneath me—some still connected, others loose. It felt like most of them formed a ribcage, with bits of flesh and sinew still clinging to the skeleton. The stench of putrefaction made it hard to breathe.

Assk and the vicious goblin argued, their voices growing quieter with distance as they wandered off, presumably to go and tell Manchee—whoever the hell that was.

I sat in my ‘cage’, watching my bleeding status on my info window, and wondering if the prior occupant was dead before he went in or had been left to starve.

It was hard to gauge time in the total darkness of my cramped crate, but it must’ve been at least an hour—maybe two, possibly three—before I heard their voices again, still arguing as they came back up the tunnel.

My bleeding had stopped within minutes, and I’d been static on 22 Health ever since. But I hadn’t been idle. I’d managed to wriggle free of the net and shoved it to the bottom of the crate. If I could just get my fingers around the throat of one more goblin before they killed me, it would be one less to worry about when I next came through this stinking mine.

“Assk take hu-man to Manchee.”

“Tark take hu-man to Manchee.”

“Assk take hu-man to Manchee!”

There was the noise of fist meeting skin, a crunch, and then a squeal. Then the voice I’d attributed to Assk came again, this time as a whimper. “Tark take hu-man to Manchee.”

Sounded like the argument had been resolved.

They pried the lid off my crate, and I looked up to see the vicious goblin who had stabbed me in the arm. Him, I was particularly looking forward to killing. “Hi, Tark.”

“Manchee see hu-man now,” he growled.

“Yes, so I gathered. Are you going to carry me, or do I get to walk?”

He snarled. “Hu-man not so talky when we eat you.”

“Goblin not so snarly when I kill you.”

His fist came down, knuckles wrapped in a leather glove with raised, spikey ridges, and I felt my cheek split, blood gushing down my face.

“Ow! You fucker!”

Blunt force trauma injury: left cheek. -1 Charisma. -3 Health.

Tark grinned, the flickering torchlight reflecting off rows of sharp, pointed teeth. “Hu-man get out. Hu-man walk to Manchee.”

“Fine, fine.” It was where I wanted to go, anyway. I was done with this place for now. I wanted to see what defenses they had, and then I wanted the comfort of waking up nude on a hard stone table.

Then all I’d have to do was evade Drakos long enough to make the week-long trip back to the hut and Lira.

Visions filled my mind of Drakos catching me and killing me in an endless loop of helpless reincarnation. That would be an unpleasant way of spending the next few years. But hopefully, the temple was empty, and I could slip out one of the windows before anyone noticed.

Climbing out of my crate wasn’t easy. I couldn’t use my left wrist, my right arm was sore, and my stabbed leg barely took my weight. It all hurt like fuck, and boy was I ever going to enjoy getting my revenge on these little green shits.

The gobbos circled me, each holding a spear with the business end pointed right at me. The message was clear. I was quite happy for them to stab me to death when the time came, but given how sadistic they’d been thus far, they’d probably just pinion me and then start eating.

I followed Tark down the passageway, each step sending jarring agony through my leg, sharp and unrelenting, a reminder of my current frailty. The dull throb in my wrist intensified with every jolt, and I cradled it to my chest, desperate for any relief, however mild.

A whimpering goblin walked alongside, no spear in his hand, clutching a bruise on his face that matched mine. They all looked the same to me, but logic suggested that one was Assk.

“Manchee! Manchee!” Tark started yipping, just as the passageway opened up into a natural cavern. It was brighter in here, though the light was different. A green, ethereal glow stretched throughout the space, making the many rocks and stalagmites seem darker. Somewhere there was running water, every surface was slick with damp, and there were large patches of algae enjoying life. That was the source of the green light: a natural bioluminescence, adding to the flickering torchlight.

“Manchee!” the vicious little bastard called again, and there was a scurry of feet as a dozen more goblins encircled us. How many was that now? Sixteen? Seventeen? “We caught hu-man!”

Another goblin appeared from behind some rocks, dressed differently from the others I’d seen. His helm was the top half of a rat’s skull, his armor mostly rags and fur. In his hand was a staff, human-sized and far too big for him, the tip of which was a glowing, jagged crystal. It pulsed with a white-blue light, and it wasn’t bioluminescence. It sure the hell wasn’t batteries.

It was magic. My first sight of a real magic item.

Despite my agony, I grinned when I saw him. A little goblin shaman with a magical staff. And I was going to pry it from his cold, dead fingers.

The goblins circled around him like a pack of overexcited dogs, yipping and chattering in their guttural language, arguing over who had captured me and who deserved the credit. I stood still, drawing steadying breaths, gritting my teeth against the radiating pain of my wounds. The shaman shambled closer, his green skin wrinkled with age. The crystal on his staff emanated a steady rhythm of pulsating light, playing merry havoc with my eyes and casting erratic shadows across the cavern walls. I had a migraine coming on, my head pounding in beat with each pulse.

Just a few more seconds. I just needed to hang on. I could almost feel his throat in my hands.

I shifted my weight, subtly testing my balance. My legs ached, and my body screamed with every injury, but none of that mattered. Not now. The goblins were distracted, unaware of my intent, and the shaman was edging closer with every step. He finally noticed me, and his voice rose in a high-pitched chant. The surrounding goblins quieted, watching us both with eager anticipation.

A few steps closer, and I’d have the chance I needed.

I let my shoulders slump and my head droop. The very epitome of a dejected, beaten, captive hu-man. His staff thudded into the dirt with each step he took until at last the pulsing light was right before me.

I lunged toward him, fingers of my good hand outstretched, gripping the shaman’s throat and squeezing with all I had. His eyes went wide, and he gave a strangled little glurrk.

“Stop him!” Tark yelled, his voice high with alarm. “Kill him!”

I never believed I’d take him with me. It was never going to be that easy. I was in so much pain, I knew I wasn’t strong enough to finish the job. I just craved the comfort of oblivion, and this was both the fastest and the most satisfying way of getting there.

Their spears jabbed into me, and I welcomed them. One stuck my side, and another stabbed agonizingly into my leg, but I poured all the strength I had into my one-handed strangle grip.

A spear pierced my back, and my vision filled with darkness.

My last thought was that Tark would have some explaining to do for letting me get this close to their precious shaman.

I hoped the little shit got it in the neck big time.

Chapter 16

Hesitation and Heat

There was a surprised yelp very close to my ear, then, “Oh, my God, you’re back!”

The stone table had been replaced by something soft and comfortable.

When I opened my eyes, the roof of the hut came into view.

I was in my bed. All the pain was gone, which was a blessed relief. Still naked, though. Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. All my gear … my leathers, my pack, my bow and weapons. Fuck.

Lira shifted next to me, and it was suddenly very obvious that she was naked, too. Her thigh rubbed against my hip, and her bare breasts pushed into my arm.

She’d clearly decided to go to bed. I had no idea what time it was, but night had fallen while I’d languished in my crate. Through the hut’s small window, the sky was black, stars twinkling.

I turned my head to see her, propped up on one elbow, gazing down and smiling. Damn, but I’d never get tired of seeing that smile.

“I thought I’d wake up on the stone table in the temple.”

“Oh … I blessed the bed, just in case. Did I do the right thing?”

“Do the right thing?” I echoed. “Lira, you’re a genius! You saved me from having to escape Drakos again, and avoided a week-long trek to get back to you! I could kiss you!”

“All right,” she said demurely and leaned forward, catching me by surprise.

Her lips were as soft and as sweet as I’d imagined, and for a second, I was stunned. Then I slipped my arms around her, pulling her to me. Fuck it, I said to myself. She was naked, I was naked, we were in bed, and she clearly wanted me. It was just a kiss.

And it was better than being stabbed by sadistic little goblin bastards.

I licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, her tongue finding mine. I pushed inside, tasting her, feeling her body pressed against the side of mine, one soft breast pushing into my chest. Lira moaned, her eyes closed as she kissed with enthusiasm, as though she needed this more than I did. I trailed my hand down her naked back until my fingers encountered the swell of her ass. She gave a soft little whimper in her throat, and her hips rocked against my thigh.

There was still something holding me back from going all the way with this beautiful woman. I’d established to my satisfaction that she was human enough to make her own choices, but I couldn’t shake the nagging voice at the back of my mind. I was her God. Our power dynamic was so ripe for abuse. Did she really want me, or did she just feel obliged? Did she even know what she wanted or was she blinded by my supposed majesty and power?

That was a laugh. I was only level six. What God was out-powered by his own priestess?

Besides, I’d just said a kiss. We hadn’t discussed anything further.

I pulled back, and she took the hint, slipping to the side and again propping herself up with one arm. But her leg stayed draped over mine, and her lower body pushed against my hip.

That cute little crease was back between her eyebrows, just discernible in the glow from the hearth. The embers cast a soft, warm light around the room, flickering shadows over the wooden walls.

“Why did you stop? Did I not kiss you well?”

She’d always struck me as being confident and capable, taking everything in stride. She’d been the one to find a solution to fight Drakos, to find a God and summon me—even if it hadn’t yet panned out exactly as she’d wanted. She hadn’t hesitated in following me, alone, into the wilderness. And she met every setback with a smile.

But when it came to me, she was often unsure, like she didn’t think she was good enough.

How wrong she was.

“Lira, I don’t think you could do anything badly, even if you tried.” I lifted my hand, brushing a stray curl back from her cheek. My wrist was intact again, whole and well, and even though I knew it would be, it was a relief to see. “You kiss beautifully.”

She smiled down at me. “It’s such an honor to be able to share a bed with my God. How many High Priestesses can say that?”

But that was exactly the problem. She was a High Priestess. Married to her religion. Vows of chastity and celibacy. She was already far too willing to do whatever I asked of her; I couldn’t ask for this.

It would be taking advantage. It just wouldn’t be right.

She seemed to sense my discomfort.

“Is something wrong, Kaelan?”

“I was just thinking …”

“Yes?”

“I … I wouldn’t want to … impugn your honor or anything.”

She smiled softly. “Oh, we’re very liberal in Valora. Anything goes if folk are willing.”

“But you’re a …” I swallowed.

“Yes?”

She wasn’t making this easy. It was like she didn’t understand.

“You’re a High Priestess,” I blurted out. “My High Priestess, no less.”

“Yes?” She waited expectantly.

“Doesn’t your religion prevent you from …” I gestured, encompassing both of us, the bed, our naked proximity.

“Oh. Oh!” Her eyes widened. “Were you thinking that I didn’t want you to kiss me?”

That was pretty blunt. Right on the money—as usual with Lira. “Well, I just … didn’t want to presume …” I was blathering like an idiot. I took a breath, forcing myself to slow down. “I wasn’t sure if your religion had rules about intimacy, or even if that’s what you wanted.” I met her gaze, this time making sure to enunciate clearly. “You have the choice, Lira. It’s your life, your body, your choice.”

She smiled again. “I understand.”

I needed to be certain. “What exactly do you understand?”

“I understand that you want me to know the choice of intimacy is mine. You’re such a gracious God. So many just … take what they want.”

The thought had crossed my mind, more than once. But I clung to the shreds of my self-respect. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

There. I’d said it as clearly as I could.

I waited for her to smile again, to pull away, gently disengaging so as to not cause offense.

She didn’t. Instead, her hips pressed subtly against my thigh. “Some religions practice celibacy,” she said softly. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen the appeal. Besides, I’m the High Priestess of this one.” Her smile turned playful, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s my religion. I get to make the rules.”

That was a good point. One I hadn’t considered.

Did that mean…?

“What …” My voice was husky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “What are the rules?”

“They’re simple,” she said, that playful smile still teasing the corners of her lips. “To serve and please my God, in any way that he might desire.” Her hips rocked against me again—an invitation if ever there was one.

I stared up at her, letting it all sink in. She waited, her beautiful eyes reflecting the glow of the fire. “Are you sure? You’re not just saying this because I’m … well … your god?”

“You are my god, Kaelan, but does that mean I can’t desire you as a woman? Tell me not to touch you, and, of course, I will obey.” She lowered her eyes, looking down at the bed between us. “But you said it’s my choice, and I choose you.” She chewed her bottom lip with small white teeth, then raised her gaze again. “Even if you weren’t my God, I’d choose you. You’re kind and gracious, and you give so freely of yourself. All I want to do is⁠—”

I drew her down to me, covering her mouth with mine. She kissed me back hungrily, letting slip a small whimper, and she shifted her body until her breasts pressed into my chest, and her hips ground against my hardness.

She moaned as she felt it, her small hand slipping between us to close around me. “Please, may I touch you, my God?”

She already was, and it took everything I had not to buck my hips against her hand. “Yes,” I breathed. “Touch me in any way you wish.”

She smiled again, her eyes dancing with devilry. “Any way?”

My cock throbbed in her hand with the emphasis she gave the word. “Any way,” I confirmed. I’d let her do anything to me. I was completely at her mercy.

“Thank you, my God.” She bent to kiss my chest, her lips and tongue trailing along my skin. “You can touch me, too,” she murmured, then trailed her tongue down lower. “Any way you want.” She placed small kisses on my stomach, then licked on lower, her breasts rubbing against my thighs. “Anything you want.”

I pushed my head back into the bed, staring up at the roof of the hut, lost in the feel of her and the seduction of her words. “Any time you want.” Her voice was full of heat, and I couldn’t stop the involuntary buck of my hips. Her hand squeezed me. “I’m yours, my God.” Then the wet warmth of her mouth enveloped me.

Lira moaned softly as she tasted me, taking me deeper. Her lips sealed around my length until I could feel the head of my cock press into her throat. I nearly lost it right there, gripping the sheets tightly to hold on to whatever control I had left.

Her mouth slid up slowly, sucking and licking, her tongue swirling around me before she took me even deeper. My cock pressed into her throat, and it gripped me tightly.

Fuck, I wasn’t going to last long if she kept doing that. It had been ages since I’d been with anyone, and Lira was more than I’d ever hoped for. She was more beautiful than the girls of my fantasies, sexier than my wildest dreams. More eager than I had the right to experience, and I fucking loved it.

“Lira,” I gasped, shuddering beneath her mouth. It had only been a few seconds, and already my orgasm was approaching the point of no return. “I’m going to⁠—”

If I’d thought she’d pull away, I had a lot to learn about my High Priestess. She gripped the base of my cock with her small hand and pushed down again. My hips jerked involuntarily, but she rode my thrust, her tongue swirling over me. Then her other hand slipped between my legs and caressed my balls, and it was all too much.

My hands fisted the sheets as I came hard, my back arching as I spurted into her mouth. Wave after wave of pent-up release. She took it all, her lips sealed around my shaft, and I felt her swallow even as I spurted again.

I slumped back into the mattress, spent but still hard. How could it not be with Lira?

You have gained a new skill: Sex (women). Sex (women) is now level 1.

There was a time and a place for those status messages, but now wasn’t it.

Lira let me slip from her mouth, licking softly. “Mmm,” she said. “Delicious.” She kissed my tip one last time before sliding up my body, resting her head on my shoulder. “Thank you, my God.”

Thank me? If I could’ve found the words, I’d have thanked her.

And I wasn’t done with her.

I rolled her onto her back, kissing her as her eyes widened in surprise. My cock pressed against her hip, still as hard as mahogany. She moaned softly, her eyelids fluttering as she reached for me.

I wanted to taste her, to do for her what she’d done for me, and so I eased down her body, pausing to lick and suck at one dusky pink nipple. She moaned, her body squirming beneath my mouth, and her hands slipped into my hair.

Placing a kiss on her pert breast, I pushed myself down off the foot of the bed until I was kneeling on the floor. Where I’d expected to see a thick thatch of natural hair, her beautiful vulva was topped with a neatly trimmed bush. A surprise in this medieval world, but a welcome one.

I slipped my hand beneath one thigh, and she lifted her leg in response, opening herself to me. She was so fucking beautiful and already so wet. I kissed her thigh, trailing the tip of my tongue along her skin as I licked my way closer, and she moaned again. It was all the encouragement I needed.

She tasted fresh and just a little musky, and I loved it. I pushed my tongue inside her, then trailed it over her clit as her fingers tightened in my hair. Her breathing grew short and rapid. But it wasn’t enough just to taste her. I wanted to make her come like I had, exploding over my tongue.

I slipped a finger within her, and she was so tight, so warm, and so wet. She gasped at the penetration, but her thighs spread wider, drawing me in. I curled my finger, seeking that little slick, bumpy area just inside her pussy, and teased it as I licked and sucked at her clit.

Her moans grew higher until she was making cute little gasping noises, her hips writhing beneath me. Then her fingers tightened almost painfully in my hair, and her thighs clamped around my head, wetness gushing over my finger and into my mouth. I licked her through it all, satisfied that I’d pleased my High Priestess.

But I wasn’t done with her.

My cock was still hard. How could it not be with her spread open before me like this? I’d come so fast when she’d used her mouth, and now it was a matter of pride. Rising over her, my knees pressed against the back of her thighs. The way she looked at me—wide-eyed, breathless—it was adorable.

“Oh, my God…” she murmured, and I felt no inclination to correct her.

I pushed inside her, and she welcomed me with a gasp, her knees pulling back, thighs parting wider. She was warm, slick, and tight. The effort not to thrust right away was real, but I wanted her to adjust and grow used to me. When she gave a small whimper and her hips rolled up to meet mine, I pressed deeper, shifting my weight onto my arms.

Her hands roamed over my chest, lingering on my shoulders before sliding down to press against my pecs. Her gaze stayed locked on mine, adoration in her eyes that I wasn’t sure I deserved. But there would come a day when I did. I promised myself that.

She felt so good beneath me, so open and eager to please me, kissing and licking at my chest as I moved over her. We moved together in a rhythm, her hips rising to meet each slow, deliberate thrust. Her small, breathy cries grew sharper, and I felt her clench tighter around me, her thighs squeezing my hips as she came again. Yet I still wanted more.

She was tighter still after her orgasm, whimpering each time I drove inside her, yet so slick and warm that I wanted to keep going all night.

“Yes,” she murmured breathily. “Harder, please … Take me.”

I was only too happy to oblige. I braced my arms and picked up the pace, my thighs slapping repeatedly against her ass, but she only lifted her knees more, rolling her hips to meet my onslaught. It helped me drive deeper, her slick sex welcoming me.

Lira shuddered beneath me, her eyes closed, her lips parted as she drew her breaths and returned them in gasps and cries of pleasure. I felt my own release approaching, and she must’ve sensed it too, for her body began to tense as she neared her own peak. Her thighs gripped me, her hands sliding up over my chest to my shoulders.

I was losing control. Each thrust deep within her, shorter, faster. She clutched at my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I lost myself in her completely. I came as she cried out, her head pressed back into the bed, her pussy clenching again, and then my arms gave way, and I collapsed over her.

She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close like she didn’t want to let go. The only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire and our ragged breathing as we came down from the high together.

“You really are my God,” she whispered into the quiet.

Sex (women) has gained a rank. Sex (women) is now level 2.

Sex (women) has gained a rank. Sex (women) is now level 3.

Sex (women) has gained a rank. Sex (women) is now level 4.

Heh, that was better, but I wouldn’t be happy until it was well into the twenties. I wanted Lira as fulfilled as she could be. She deserved no less.

It was an effort to move off her, but she nestled into my arms, pressing herself close. In minutes, her breathing had deepened, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Watching her, I felt a shift, a question rising to the surface that I hadn’t allowed myself to entertain before. Did I still want to find a way home? What was stopping me from staying here forever?

I was a God, wasn’t I?

Surely, I could do whatever I wanted.

Chapter 17

Perks and Progress

I was having a dream, and it wasn’t one from which I wanted to wake up.

It was a good dream. A very good dream. If I didn’t wake soon, I was going to make a mess.

My eyes flicked open to see Lira’s head bobbing up and down, and her tongue swirled around me. I groaned. The sight of her naked body crouched on the bed beside me, combined with the feel of her mouth, sent a shock of pleasure through me, and my hips jerked as I came.

She licked me clean, then snuggled in against my side. “Good morning, my God.”

“Gnn,” I managed, still lost in the throes of pleasure, my brain not fully awake and now swamped with endorphins.

Lira giggled—a sound I’d never heard from her before. It was light and musical, matching the positivity and playfulness she so often exuded. “You did give me permission to do what I wanted,” she teased. “I recall you being very specific about it.”

“No complaints,” I said, when I could find my voice. “No complaints at all.”

“Good.” She nuzzled closer, her warm, nude body pressing against my side. “Morning has arrived, but I don’t want to get up.”

My thoughts drifted back to the goblins and the mine I still needed to clear out. Those little bastards had my stuff, and I owed them payback, too.

“One of us has to,” I said reluctantly, “and I’m afraid it may have to be you. One of the problems with respawning naked is that I now have nothing to wear.”

“Respawning?” she said, placing a kiss on my shoulder. “Interesting word. I can see what you mean.” She pushed herself up, unashamed in her nakedness as she padded around the bottom of the bed and fetched her clothes.

I propped myself on one elbow, watching the pleasure that was Lira first thing in the morning. “What are you going?”

“Back to Fernwick,” she said, wiggling more than was strictly necessary as she pulled on her trousers. It made her breasts jiggle enticingly. She smiled as she saw the direction of my gaze, then slipped her shirt on, pulling her cowl over the top. “Either I go, or you do. And while I’m sure many of the folks in Fernwick wouldn’t mind seeing you naked, it’s probably better if I go.”

She had a point.

“You have a point.” I sighed. “Problem is, I don’t have any money. The gear I need won’t be cheap.”

“No matter,” she said, sitting on a chair as she pulled on her boots. “I have money.” She smiled, then grabbed her pack and cloak. “I’ll see you soon, my God.”

“I’ll pay you back!” I called after her as the door latched. I wasn’t about to let her pay my way.

Besides, I had a hundred gold pieces coming for clearing out the mine, and I would get to that just as soon as Lira returned with new weapons.

She hadn’t asked what I wanted, but I shrugged it off. Lira was nothing if not resourceful. I trusted her judgment.

Which left me the day and nothing to do. I could hardly go out hunting, weaponless and naked. But I wasn’t about to sit around idle, either. Maybe I could train up my stats. I pulled up my sheet and took a look:

I’d forgotten about the Perk. Lira had been quite distracting. But first, my skills.

I’d dumped the skill points from my last level up evenly between Archery and Sword. I now considered the Attack stat.

Define Attack.

Attack: a measurement of overall ability to deal damage. Higher Attack increases damage with weapons and unarmed combat.

I didn’t have unarmed combat, but I didn’t think I was likely to need it, either. I wanted to focus on Sword and Archery for now, with Daggers when I had the spare points. But was it better to level a weapon skill or level attack?

Define Weapon (Sword).

Weapon (Sword): subset of the Weapon skill. A measurement of proficiency with swords. Higher Weapon (Sword) increases damage, accuracy, critical chance, and finesse with swords. Higher scores allow for advanced techniques such as parrying, riposting, precise strikes, and disarming.

I could use some of that. It seemed focusing on a specific weapon would be more advantageous than a general Attack, while Attack would help when I used weapons where I had limited skills.

But I wondered how it worked in practice. I’d gained some insights in Herbology automatically. Would Sword work the same way? The only way to find out was to pump the skill and then kill gobbos. I was okay with that approach.

My Archery was fifteen and Sword was thirteen, so I dropped four into Sword and the other two into Archery, keen to keep both skills equally useful.

Now to address my Perk.

Show Perks.

Available Perks (Level 5):

Combat-Oriented:

Quick Strike: Increases attack speed with light weapons by 10%.

Shield Block: Slightly increases the chance to block incoming attacks using a shield.

Precise Aim: Small accuracy boost when using ranged weapons (bows, crossbows).

Battle Awareness: Slight chance to evade attacks from behind.

Second Wind: Gain a small boost to Endurance after a successful dodge or parry.

Non-Combat:

Keen Observer: Increases perception, allowing better identification of hidden items or traps.

Barter: Get a slight discount when buying from merchants.

Herbal Knowledge: Ability to identify common herbs for simple healing remedies.

Locksmith Apprentice: Ability to pick basic locks.

Traveler’s Endurance: Decreased Endurance drain during long journeys.

Some looked more useful than others, but after my experience with the goblin net trap, there was one obvious choice.

Buy new Perk: Keen Observer.

You have gained a new Perk: Keen Observer.

With my Skills boosted and Perk selected, I pulled up my sheet again. My gaze settled on my Strength—only a 10. Not great for a world like this. My high Intelligence would be an asset if I ever trained as a mage, but I had to survive long enough to get there. Could I train my Primary Attributes?

I didn’t know, but I had a whole day to find out. Lira would need at least that long to get to Fernwick, buy my gear, and return.

Buoyed with new enthusiasm, I stepped out of the hut, and for pretty much the first time in my life, I went to the gym.

It was hard, boring work. What did people see in this? Only my motivation to get stronger, to kill goblins, then Drakos, and become what Lira needed kept me going. Then again, a girl like Lira was motivation enough for anyone—maybe that was why other people went to the gym. It made sense. She had a way of motivating me that nothing in my previous life could ever come close to.

I found the heaviest stones by the bank of the stream and practiced lifting them, careful not to drop one on my bare feet. A sturdy branch on a nearby tree served for pull-ups. Push-ups followed, though I wished I could Google proper form and technique. I had to make do with what I remembered.

I kept going all day, stopping only when my arms, chest, and back were too sore to continue, then resting and pushing on.

My Endurance gained a couple of ranks, and even Resilience went up one, but my Strength stayed stubbornly at ten.

A progress bar would’ve been handy. Something to tell me if I was making any headway. But even if my Strength wasn’t benefitting, ranking up Endurance was almost worth the effort.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

It was late afternoon when the creak of leather and the thud of hooves signaled that I was no longer alone. I rose from where I’d been lying on the grass, forcing myself through another set of pushups.

Lira was sitting on her horse, a large bag behind her stuffed with new gear, watching me with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“I brought you some clothes,” she said, blatantly running her gaze over me. “But now I’m regretting doing so.”

I laughed, glancing down at myself. It was nice to hear her making jokes, and without any ‘my Gods’ or ‘Kaelans’ in the mix. On a whim, I brought up her info card, looking to see if the events of the previous night had made much difference:

I blinked. Somehow she’d gained a level since the day before, and looking at her skills, I had my suspicions how. Again, her points had gone into Devotion and Faith, but unless I was very much mistaken, Attraction had risen further. Divination appearing on the sheet made sense because she’d told me she’d used it.

But it was the new entry in at number three that drew my attention. Love.

I stared at it for a moment. It wasn’t just some stat—it meant something. Something fragile, yet significant.

I gazed up at my High Priestess, sitting on her horse with that teasing smile. Her devotion had always been there, plain and obvious, but this … this was new.

A two. Small, fragile, and vulnerable.

Another reason not to let her down.

Chapter 18

Gear and Gratitude

“Did anything happen while you were out?” I asked, testing my theory on why she’d leveled up.

“No, not particularly,” Lira said, swinging her leg over her horse and dropping lightly to the ground. “I just rode into town, bought some gear, and came back.”

I nodded, her answer expected. She’d leveled because she’d slept with her God. I wondered if I could level her again the same way.

She led the stallion to the same tree she’d used before, tying him up. Then she walked over to me, her eyes lingering on my nakedness. “Sorry I was so long,” she said as she came right up to me. “The leathers had to be adjusted to size.”

“No problem,” I said, staring at her the way she was staring at me. She was so damn beautiful, and though I still hadn’t come to really believe it, she was somehow mine.

She stopped inches from me, then gave me her playful smile. “I was going to press myself against you, but you’re awfully sweaty.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed me. “Don’t get me wrong, I like you sweaty,” she added, waggling her eyebrows, “but the clothes I brought you are clean.”

I laughed and turned toward the stream. Maybe she was checking out my ass; she was welcome to do so. I had nothing to hide from Lira. I washed off quickly, then dunked my head and pushed back my wet hair. It was getting noticeably longer, and so was my beard.

Lira had untethered her horse and walked him down to the stream while I’d been bathing. No doubt the stallion needed a drink after his long ride, but I didn’t think that was her main reason. Her eyes were all on me.

She waited until I was finished, then gave me one of her smiles. “Do you want to see what I got?”

What I wanted was to take her into my arms, but her enthusiasm was obvious. She clearly wanted to show me, and I wanted to see.

“Sure. Let’s take a look.”

She tied the horse back up, this time with enough slack to graze, then hefted the large bag from his back. It looked heavy, and I stepped forward to help.

“I can manage,” she said, lowering it to the ground with a small gasp of effort. Hell, even her gasp was sexy.

A bow protruded from the top of the bag, and she pulled it out first. “A new short bow, Therin’s best.” She held up a coil of string. “Two strings, just in case one breaks.”

Smart thinking. I pulled the info card on the bow.

Weapon: Short bow. Type: Bow. Quality: Masterwork. Speed 8.

I’d never examined my previous bow this way, so I had nothing to compare, but this one looked better made, and it was masterwork.

“Perfect,” I said.

“A quiver of arrows. Also his finest,” she said, unstrapping it from the side of her saddle. It was wrapped in oilskin for protection.

Weapon: Arrow. Type: Arrow. Quality: Masterwork. Attack 5. Armor-Piercing.

“Wow, armor-piercing,” I said, impressed. That would be a huge help against the goblins.

“How did you know?” she turned to me in surprise. “That was my secret!”

“God, remember?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Some things I just know.”

“Of course.” She smiled, then placed the quiver next to the bow. She unstrapped another long package, then turned to me with one delicate eyebrow raised. “What’s in here?”

She was testing me, but it was easy enough to focus on the package.

Weapon: Rapier. Type: Sword. Quality: Fine. Attack 6. Speed 9.

It would do, but I wanted the other one back. While I was sure this was the best Rolf had at short notice, the other one was Masterwork and had the Keen Edge attribute. I hoped the gobbos had kept it safe for me.

“Rapier. Very nice, too. Thank you.”

She gave a small laugh and set it down, then bent over her pack.

“Two new shirts, and two new shorts,” she said, pulling out clothes that, while not as fine as what she’d given me at the temple, were probably the best Fernwick had to offer.

“Is that a hint to get dressed?”

She made a point of laying them down on the grass, then firmly placing her bag on top. That was a no, then.

“Leathers,” she said, pulling out a weapon belt, jacket, trousers, and a pair of sturdy boots. “I hope they’ll fit you. I had them adjusted to your measurements.”

“How do you know my measurements?” The armor she’d given me in the temple had fit perfectly.

“Divination, remember?” she said, imitating my earlier tone and nonchalant shrug.

“High Priestesses who imitate their god get spanked,” I said, only half-joking.

Her eyes widened, and she blushed pinker than I’d ever seen. “Is that a promise?”

Her blush threw me off. Lira, the composed, divine priestess, had a kinkier side? That was unexpected, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to think. I’d been thinking of her as this goddess-like figure, poised and perfect, but now, I was seeing something else. She was … human. Playful. Maybe we weren’t so different after all. The idea of testing how far I could push her made my pulse quicken.

“Imitate me again and you’ll find out,” I said, pretending to be stern. It was hard to pull off assertiveness while standing naked, but I was pretty sure I managed. Her gaze flicked downward, and she wet her lips.

She turned away, delving back into her pack, but not before I saw her teeth chew on her bottom lip. She was so damn cute.

“Dagger,” she said, pulling it out and laying it beside the bow. “And a set of throwing knives.” She was holding a leather wallet from which three short handles protruded.

Weapon: Throwing Knife. Type: Throwing. Quality: Masterwork. Attack 4. Speed 12. Puncturing.

“Wow,” I said. “Those are beautiful.”

She beamed. “You like them? I wasn’t sure if you’d want throwing knives.”

“They’re perfect,” I said. And so are you. The knives would be an awesome supplement to my bow. I could already imagine throwing them in rapid succession at a charging goblin.

She spun back to her bag of goodies, which was still looking surprisingly full. “Healing ointment, just in case.” She placed a small tub on the grass. “Bandages despite how much I like it when you rip up your shirt.” She flashed me a wicked grin, a playful glint in her eyes as she placed the folded linen strips on the grass. “And last but not least … a bar of soap.”

She dropped it on the ground and turned to me, her hands clasped in front of her. “Did I do good?”

“You did great,” I said, pulling her close. Her coarse clothing was rough against my skin, but her arms slipped around my neck as I kissed her thoroughly. “How much was it all?”

“Just under two hundred gold,” she said. “I negotiated as best I could, but I wasn’t sure I could tell them it was for you.”

It was probably just as well she hadn’t. But now I owed her two hundred gold, and I’d only earn a hundred from clearing the mine. The goblins would likely have treasure or things I could sell. I was also realizing how much I was being underpaid. No wonder they’d offered me a house so quickly.

“I’ll pay you back,” I promised her, holding her to me.

“There’s no need, Kaelan.” She shifted her hips slightly against me, and I knew the little minx had done it deliberately.

I shook my head. “I insist.” Behind her, the bag still didn’t look empty. “What else is in there?” I asked, gesturing with a jerk of my chin.

“Just some dried meat for emergencies and dinner for tonight.” She placed a kiss on the side of my neck. “I figured you’d be hungry once I was finished with you.”

I slid my hands down to cup her ass, pulling her into me again. “I’ll never be finished with you,” I said, earning a soft moan from her as we kissed, her body melting against mine.

I lay in our bed, watching Lira cooking in the nude.

She was a deft hand with a knife and certainly knew her way around a kitchen. I checked her sheet, and sure enough, Cooking had appeared, listed at rank 14. The rich aromas of stewing meat and herbs filled the air, making my stomach rumble in anticipation.

We were both hungry. We’d spent much of the afternoon catching up, then walked outside together, and Lira had watched me try my new throwing knives for an hour or so. As neither of us had dressed, it wasn’t the most productive of sessions, but I’d gained Throwing as a skill and raised it to three, and Willpower had ranked a point, much to my amusement.

In the end, Lira had tried more and more blatant ways to distract me, and we’d ended up back in bed.

A perfect afternoon.

I didn’t even have sore muscles. When she’d found out how I’d spent my day, she cast a trickle of green restoration energy into me, and that was that. She really was amazing. It wasn’t just the magic, but the way she cared, how she seemed to know exactly what I needed.

She added fresh potatoes and carrots to our pot, then gave me a kiss as she walked by. The bed wasn’t en route for the fastest way back to the chopping board, but neither of us bothered to point that out.

“Your beard is coming in nicely,” she commented as she sashayed her ass more than was strictly necessary.

I raised a hand, rubbing it across my chin. It was more than just stubble now. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do.” She smiled. “Not too long, though.”

“Well, that might be a problem. I don’t have a razor blade or scissors.”

“What’s a razor blade?”

“Er … a shaving knife.”

“Oh,” she said. “That explains it. And don’t worry, I have scissors.”

“You do?” I hadn’t thought there were any scissors in this world.

“Of course I do.” Her tone carried a hint of playful condescension as if to say, silly man. I wondered what I was missing.

“Will you trim it for me when it gets too long?”

She smiled. “Of course, my God.”

It was like we were playing house, and I was more than content. Every moment with her was a welcome escape from the pressures I’d placed on myself. A reminder that amid my urge to grow stronger, there was still joy to be found.

But tomorrow, I was going back into that mine. I wanted my rapier back. I needed to have words with Tark, and I figured I’d relieve Manchee of his staff while I was at it.

I would face whatever came. But for now, I allowed myself to bask in the warmth of Lira's presence. This fleeting peace was worth holding onto for just a little longer.

Chapter 19

Cunning and Carnage

I strolled into the tunnel, as prepared as I could be for what awaited.

An arrow was nocked on my bowstring, my rapier and dagger at my hips. My throwing knives were strapped across my chest, ready for a quick draw. I’d crafted a new torch (and gained a rank), but I didn’t think I’d need it.

By now, I was reasonably familiar with the first part of the passage. I could’ve gone in quietly, as I had before, but today I had a different tactic. I knew they’d have at least two guards, and I knew I couldn’t take them both down before they screamed an alarm. They’d probably see me coming, too.

So I made no attempt at stealth. I kicked stones down the passage and stomped loudly, making as much noise as one could while walking. I was doing everything short of humming a little ditty. Then I started humming a little ditty.

“Hu-man!”

Yes, quite right. You have my gear, you bastards, and I’m coming for it, along with a side-helping of revenge.

I stopped when I heard the shout and waited in the dark. I didn’t have to wait long; the sound of many feet echoed from far down the passage. That was when I slowly began to back out, still watching for the first goblins—those that had been on guard duty—until the light from the mine entrance helped my straining eyes.

It was so dark it was difficult to tell what was goblin and what wasn’t, but as a darker, more shadowy shape appeared in the gloom before me, I pulled back my string and snapped off a shot. It hit center mass, and he dropped with a cry. I was already reaching for another arrow, withdrawing one careful step at a time. Either the goblin I’d hit was dead or he chose to stay down because there was no movement from that quarter. But another shadow approached at speed, clawed feet scrabbling at the loose stones. I snapped a shot at him, catching him high and right, and the shadow jerked and slowed but didn’t drop. My next arrow must’ve been lethal because he fell hard, and I didn’t even hear a whimper.

I was definitely seeing an improvement. I never could have fired that fast a few days ago, nor could I have mastered the bow to such an extent in that time without pumping my skills, both with my God power and leveling points.

It proved the system was working.

I stopped, only a few dozen paces into the tunnel, and waited. Shouldn’t be long now.

The distant sounds of many running feet came up to meet me. I rolled my shoulders, braced my legs, and let them come.

It was difficult to judge distance when I couldn’t see them, forced to rely on hearing alone. But I’d walked that path so many times, I knew where they’d be. As soon as their footsteps told me they were in range, I drew my bow and loosed. I was firing blind, no target in the dark, but as soon as the first arrow had flown, I was reaching for the next. And the next, and the next, backing up with each step as I fired.

I didn’t know where all my arrows went, but some certainly found homes if the cries and zip-thuds into armor were any indication. I was timing it carefully, knowing they’d be gaining on me, and I held the next arrow.

A shadow came out of the gloom, enough light from the tunnel entrance to glint off the metal strips of his armor. I put an arrow through his eye and drew another.

Two more came at once, footsteps hurrying behind them. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. But I’d learned more than just skill points: I didn’t hurry my shot. I took the time to aim, and my arrow found a home in the first goblin’s chest, piercing straight through his leather armor. Thanks, Lira.

Only then did I turn and run, racing as fast as I could back up the passage for the entrance, looping my bow over my head as I went. My rapier was in one hand, my dagger in the other.

They were still coming from behind me.

I needed to know how many were left. Was it just a group, or was it all of them?

When it was bright enough to see, I stopped running. The entrance was a few dozen paces away, and it was the middle of the day. I’d deliberately attacked when the sun was highest.

Three goblins burst out of the shadows before me, their wickedly curved blades held ready. One of them even had a shield, but it wasn’t Tark. Him, I’d recognize.

Activate God power. I’d been wanting to level my Sword skill.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

One of them stepped forward, too eager for his own good, stabbing toward me as he lunged. I parried the blow, my wrist snapping a riposte back with a speed that surprised me but was deadly for the goblin. The tip of my rapier slashed across his face, and he dropped back, clutching the bloody green furrow and screaming.

The other two slowed, suddenly cautious. I winked at them.

They moved apart, snarling, trying for a pincer movement. I didn’t wait for them but rushed toward the one without a shield, my dagger feinting at his face. He screamed his defiance, his sword coming up to block an attack I’d had no intention of following through, and my rapier stabbed in low, taking him in the belly. My blade was coated in green blood when I pulled it free.

The other gobbo was faster than I’d anticipated. He jumped into me, leading with his shield, shoulder-barging me into the wall behind me. I crashed into it, my head cracking back painfully against the stone, my dagger knocked from my hand to spin away down the passage.

Damn, I’d been hoping to pick up dual-wielding as a skill.

His blade would be coming in next, and though the blow to the head had stunned me, I forced myself to dodge to the side. The point of his sword scraped along the wall where I’d just been standing. I spun, bringing my rapier around in a back-handed slash, and the full strength of the blow caught him in the side of the neck. His head flew off after my dagger, and a spray of green blood splashed across the wall, but his body stood for a moment, as if not realizing something was missing before dropping to the ground at my feet.

I’d never done that spinning-back-hand move before. Didn’t even know I could. Yay for skill points.

There were more goblins waiting in the shadows. I knew they were there, even if I couldn’t see them.

“Come on then, you little green bastards!” Let’s see how easily they could be encouraged to come out and play. “Call yourself warriors? You’re nothing more than scared little runty children!”

A spear flashed out of the darkness, and I barely parried it in time, diverting it just far enough so that it passed me before clattering into the wall some paces behind. They’d thrown it at me. That had been close.

Too close, as I found out when blood started trickling down my arm. I spared it a glance. The sleeve of my brand-new leathers was ripped, the skin below sliced wide with a gash a few inches across. With the adrenaline coursing through me, I hadn’t even felt it. No status message had arrived to tell me anything serious had happened. Maybe it was holding for when there was a suitable moment.

Which meant this wasn’t, and that clued me into the combined attack of four goblins charging in all at once.

Four was too many. Time for the second part of my plan.

I turned and ran, knowing I was faster than them, and sunlight was only a dash away. I wanted to see if I could draw them out. Ideally, all the way outside, where perhaps the bright sunshine would be as much a hindrance to them as the shadows had been to me. Had I pissed them off enough to make them want to follow me?

A dozen yards out into the sun, I stopped again, turning in time to see them run after me. Yep, that was four very pissed gobbos. Perfect.

I didn’t have time to draw my bow, but I’d been itching for a chance to try Lira’s new gift. I flicked my rapier into my off-hand and drew and threw the first of my throwing knives in one smooth motion. It spun through the air, turning as it went, and caught the first goblin right in the face. That moment, right there. That was the sort of thing one remembers. Sure, it had been a lucky shot, but it was no less satisfying for all that. The buzz it gave me wasn’t lessened when dagger two went wide by a mile. But my third one found a home in the nearest gobbo’s arm, and then they were on me.

There was barely time to switch my rapier back to my right hand, and I made a mental note to practice fighting with it in my left. Then there was no more time for thinking, just reflexes, footwork, dodging, and parrying. I backed up beneath the onslaught of the three of them, one pace at a time. I could tell they were suffering in the sun, their attacks just a whisker too slow, opportunities missed, coordination off. But there were still three of them attacking me at once.

Right up until the gobbo on my left stumbled, leaving me an opening. The point of my rapier found the leading thigh of the center goblin, then flicked up to cut through his face as he fought to regain his balance. I dodged the lunge of the right-most goblin, meeting his incoming face with my left elbow, then spun around behind him. The tip of my rapier sank three inches into the head of the gobbo that had stumbled, then swiped across the back of the last one. He cried out, the force of my blow sending him face-first into the rock wall, and that crunch marked the end of the fight.

I hadn’t just won. I’d been fucking awesome. My skill points were really paying off.

God Power Deactivated.

Oh yeah, I’d almost forgotten about that. Five minutes really was a long time in a fight.

Attack has gained 2 ranks.

Defense has gained 1 rank.

Luck has gained 1 rank.

Speed has gained 2 ranks.

Archery has gained 3 ranks.

Dodge has gained 3 ranks.

Throwing has gained 2 ranks.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 2 ranks.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 7. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills.

That really was a God-level power.

I chucked three points each into Sword and Archery, retrieved all my throwing daggers, then lit my torch with my flint and steel and went to see how much mess I’d made.

Chapter 20

Stealth and Steel

Four dead gobbos on the path outside. Well, one had still been alive, but he wasn’t anymore. Three were dead at the top of the path. The first hundred yards of the passage were littered with goblins, dead and dying. Seven more lay on the ground, all victims of my arrows. I had no qualms about putting injured goblins out of their misery with my blade.

I retrieved my dagger and any arrows I could, though two had broken off when the bodies fell, and one I just couldn’t find. Then I went through the distasteful process of searching the bodies for anything valuable.

Ten minutes later, I’d gather what I could. My torch was half-burned through, and I put it out to save the rest of it by scraping it through a patch of earth, retreating to the entrance to examine my loot.

A half-dozen gold coins, some old enough to be well worn and rubbed almost smooth, while others seemed to be imprinted with a royal mark of some design. I’d need to ask Lira about that. A bracelet, originally ‘Property of a Lady’ if I was any judge, featured what looked like a ruby set within a delicate silver design. A shiny thing that had caught the eye of the goblin that had been wearing it. I hoped Lira didn’t take a fancy to it; I didn’t want her to have it. I’d get her all the jewels and jewelry she wanted when I had the money, but I wasn’t about to adorn her from the trash of dead goblins. She deserved better.

There was a set of vambraces in better condition than the arm guards I’d had before. A pauldron made of articulated steel plates was a real find, giving me plus-two to my armor class. A few of the goblins had thigh guards—something my status messages called ‘tassets’—but try as I might, I couldn’t get them to fit. They were just too damn small. I collected the armor that was in the best condition, making a pile by the entrance. I’d pick it up on my way out because I wasn’t done for today.

I’d killed fourteen goblins, and Tark wasn’t among them. The cowardly bastard was still back in the mine somewhere, more likely than not playing bodyguard to Manchee, the shaman. I wanted both their heads, and I wanted this quest complete. There was a house with my name on it waiting back in Fernwick, and Lira deserved more than just a ramshackle hut.

Tightening the straps on my pack and checking my dagger and rapier were loose in their scabbards, I picked up my bow and once more headed down into the darkness.

I knew the goblins had run up the passage at speed, but once I reached the point I’d stopped at the first time, I began to move with more caution. They’d used traps once, and I didn’t put it past them to have laced the whole damn mine with their nets. Or worse.

Sure enough, my eye was drawn to a thin string directly below the first torch, a net tied to the ceiling above. Would I have spotted it without the Keen Observer Perk? I supposed that was something I could second-guess for the rest of my stay on Corthos, but I shrugged and cut the string with my dagger. It parted with a twang, the net falling harmlessly to the ground. As traps went, it seemed a bit obvious, really, like finding it was designed to make me feel safe. Were the goblins that cunning, or was ‘a bit obvious’ more their style?

Remembering how dark it got between light sources, I picked up the first torch, carrying it with me. I quickly reached the first gobbo nest, but I couldn’t bring myself to search it. There was a broken spear nearby that I used to poke half-heartedly at a couple of crates, but the stench was just too bad. I didn’t want to discover the hard way that diseases remained with me after I respawned.

There were no signs of life as I continued on down, ignoring the side passages that the gobbos had passed when they’d carried me through here trussed up like a turkey. Maybe I was passing up gems and gold in abundance, but if so, the men of Fernwick could have it as compensation. I figured Manchee wasn’t the kind of gobbo to let anything shiny out of his reach for long, and if there was treasure to be had, it would be wherever he laid his bald, wrinkled head.

I took the wrong turning at one of the forks, having to backtrack when I realized there were no further torches, but otherwise my path was direct, and it didn’t take long before I caught a glimpse of the bioluminescence of the main chamber reflecting a pale green off the walls ahead.

And there’d been no more traps. There we had it: gobbos were obvious, not cunning.

I set my torch into an empty sconce, freeing my hands to use my bow. It was tempting to charge in with a shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude, yet I was wary of Manchee’s magic. Maybe all he could do was light a crystal on the top of his staff, and I was worrying about nothing. But that didn’t seem likely when all the goblins practically worshipped the wizened old bastard.

It was quiet as I crept around the curve of the passage and into the cavern, one carefully placed step at a time. How many goblins were left? I’d already killed more than the twenty Rolf and John had suggested. They could come and count them all when I was done.

Some sixth sense warned me, and I pulled my head back just as a spear flew through where it had been, shattering into a rock beside me. Keen Observer? If so, that Perk was worth its weight. I swung to my right, raising my bow, to see a goblin larger than the others jump off the stalagmite he’d been standing on. I held my shot; there was nothing to shoot at.

An instant later, Tark jumped out from behind a boulder, his sword already coming down. I dodged back, his blade almost catching my bow. It would’ve cut straight through it. “Hey! I haven’t paid for that!”

Tark looked taken aback as I yelled at him, and I used his distraction to snap-shot the arrow his way. He dived to the side. I hadn’t really expected it to be that easy, but what I wanted was time to draw my own blades. The bow looped safely over my shoulders, I drew my rapier in one hand, my dagger in the other.

Tark rolled to his feet with impressive agility, then turned to snarl. “How you get in here, Hu-man? We kill you.”

“Enjoy the feast, did you?” Of course, my body had disappeared the moment I’d respawned.

He curled his lip back, spreading his arms wide and screaming at me. He held his sword ready, but the gobbos were still being obvious. I hadn’t forgotten there was at least one other, and Tark wasn’t making any move to draw closer. That meant only one thing.

I spun as soon as I heard a noise, my rapier already coming up to parry the blow. The goblin was another big one, but I didn’t think it had been the spear-thrower. He’d been on the other side of the cave. My wrist rolled, and I went with the move, flicking my rapier under his blade in a riposte the cut across his chest. Skill points in action, right there. He yelped as a bloody green line appeared, but it wasn’t deep enough to stop him.

Tark was waiting for me to show him my back, and only his claws scraping on the stone warned me. I ducked, spinning to parry again, but now I was surrounded by two of the biggest goblins I’d met.

Make that three as the spear-thrower arrived, now armed with sword and shield. I was being pushed back, the gobbos forming a wide arc around me. This would’ve been a great time to have a shield, but all I had in my off-hand was a dagger I’d hardly used.

Tark leaped forward, leading with the point of his blade. I spun away, putting a stalagmite between the two of us. It brought me time to engage the shield-wielding spear-thrower, but I needed to take him down fast. I threw my useless dagger at him, his shield coming up to block, and I crouched low, slashing my rapier across his unguarded legs. He screamed, dropping to his knees, and my backhand opened his face from ear to ear. He dropped his weapons, clutching at his ruined visage as green blood flooded through his clenched fingers. It was probably a mercy when my sword point found his heart.

A stuttering of stones striking stones in rapid succession was my only warning, and I dived to my right, away from the sound, rolling to my feet behind a large rock. I hadn’t been fast enough as a shard still caught my trailing leg, a piercing pain in my calf. I ignored the status message that told me it would hurt to put weight on it and put weight on it, anyway. It wasn’t like I had a choice. Yes, it fucking hurt, but my leg held. Barely.

What had that been? A trap? If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was some kind of machine gun, firing out shards of stone. Tark, his chest-slashed buddy, and Manchee were all around here somewhere, and it bothered me I’d lost track of all of them.

I snuck a glance from behind my rock, my sword held ready. Shards of stone flew toward me, bursting over my rock and the one behind me as I pulled my head back. But at least I now knew where Manchee was, and I’d been right: the glowing crystal wasn’t his only trick.

The goblin I’d just killed was lying only a few feet away, his shield on his arm. It was tempting, but if Manchee could cast that spell whenever he wanted, I’d be pin-cushioned before I could pull it off him. Instead, I slunk away, keeping rocks between me and where Manchee was. Maybe I could also play hide-and-seek with these bastards. I had a Stealth score of seven; that had to be worth something.

It was time to finish this.

Chapter 21

Showdown and Slaughter

If Tark and the other big gobbo had split up looking for me, maybe I could circle around behind one of them. I ran in a crouch, moving as fast as I could on my injured leg, jinking between stalagmites and around rocks. There wasn’t anything I could do about the trail of dark blood I was leaving behind, but if I found them before they found me, it wouldn’t matter.

There … had that been a scuff to my left? I ducked behind the next rock and traded speed for stealth. Inching around the edge of the rock, I stole a quick look, ready to pull back if there was a sword waiting to take my head or another of Manchee’s machine-gun stone spells. Instead, I caught a flash of green—the back of the big goblin. He was hiding behind a rock like I was, ten feet away, waiting to leap out on me. Oh, how the tables had turned.

I sneaked quietly forward, checking each step that my boot wasn’t about to come down on a loose stone that would give me away. Heel-toe, rolling my foot through as I transferred my weight as silently as I could.

And it was easy. I knew I couldn’t have done it two weeks ago. I’d have been fighting for balance at the very least, scuffing enough to warn him at the worst. Now, even with the wound in my leg, each step felt perfectly centered, my rapier held ready, eyes flicking from the ground I was about to tread on to the gobbo that was my target, ensuring he hadn’t moved. In just a few seconds, I was behind him, and he was still oblivious.

It almost seemed cowardly to stab him in the back, but this was a goblin who would kill and eat me given the chance. Not necessarily in that order. I thrust my blade in right next to his spine, and his back arched in agony as he died.

You have gained a new Perk: Backstab.

Oh, that was interesting. I thought I had to buy Perks. Maybe that was why it hadn’t been on the list.

My moment of self-congratulation almost ended that particular dungeon run, but the scrape of toe-claws on a rock gave me just the warning I needed. I ducked as a blade whistled over my head, falling as my injured leg gave out beneath me. Tark pressed his advantage, his sword stabbing down, and all I could do was roll beneath it. I came to one knee, throwing up my blade to catch his next overhead strike. He struck again, both clawed hands wrapped around his hilt, putting all his strength into the blow. It jarred my arm, and my sword was beaten dangerously back, flashes of Drakos knocking my weapon aside and splitting my head open racing through my mind. But I just managed to hold him off, and then I had my good leg beneath me. I pushed up hard, shoving him back.

Tark stumbled, then gained his balance and snarled. He leaped in, sword slashing down. Despite my bad leg, I met him with my stance braced, sword raised, parrying blow after blow. Soon it became apparent he couldn’t get past my guard, and it was my turn to bare my teeth at him. My Sword skill was more than a match for this vicious little goblin, but I didn’t have the time to play with him when Manchee could pop out and machine-gun-stone-shard my back at any moment.

I parried his next strike, then twisted my wrist into a riposte that flashed toward his eyes. He barely managed to parry in time. But his sword swung wide with the desperation of his move, and that made it easy to slide the tip of my rapier into his throat. He gurgled around a mouthful of green blood and slumped to the ground.

That was satisfying. Just Manchee left.

It was like I’d called the little old bastard—or he’d heard the ring of steel-on-steel—for he chose that moment to pop out from behind a rock. I was already diving and rolling, not hanging around to feel the spray of stone knives pierce my flesh. Instead, they exploded into the rock behind me, and I ducked behind another boulder.

Approaching him in rapier range wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t need to. I sheathed my sword and retrieved my bow, nocking an arrow in one smooth motion that I would never have been able to do even a few days ago.

All I needed was a target.

“Come out and die, hu-man.”

Thanks, perfect. Now I knew where he was.

I slipped around the rock I was hiding behind, then took a half-step out, raised my bow, and fired all in one movement.

Manchee was faster than I’d given him credit for, or he’d anticipated me, for his stone shards were in the air an instant after my arrow left the string. I twisted, throwing myself back behind the rock, but not before two of the slithers of stone pierced my upper left arm. Bastard. Yet I knew my arrow had hit, too. Had it killed him?

I heard him wheezing on the far side of my rock, little gasps of pain. So, not dead then.

Nocking another arrow, I pushed away from my rock and dashed for the next one. Again, he was fast, the now-familiar sound of stone splinters shattering themselves on a boulder inches from my head. But I kept low, moved quickly, and made it.

It became a game of cat-and-mouse, and whoever scored the next hit would win. Except he wouldn’t even if he did because I’d simply come straight back here and kill him, even if I had to do it naked. He was alone now. Injured, too. It was only a matter of time.

In the end, it didn’t take that long. We spent some moments tiptoeing around the rocks, each trying to outwit the other, but ultimately the glow of his staff’s crystal gave him away, reflecting off the smooth stone. I stepped out, sighting down my arrow, and he wasn’t even looking in my direction. The arrow punched through his chest right over his heart, and the shriveled old goblin shaman was no more.

I’d done it. I’d killed every single one of them. I’d cleared the mine, defeated Tark and Manchee, and got my revenge for the town of Fernwick.

Fucking awesome.

Attack has gained 2 ranks.

Defense has gained 2 ranks.

Luck has gained 1 rank.

Perception has gained 2 ranks.

Archery has gained 1 rank.

Dodge has gained 2 ranks.

Throwing has gained 1 rank.

Stealth has gained 2 ranks.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 1 rank.

Puncture wound: left arm. Agility -1. Health -4.

Puncture wound: left arm. Agility -1. Health -4.

Yeah, skill upgrades, too. It reminded me my arm hurt, but it was mild compared to the wound in my calf and less than I’d been injured before. The status message hadn’t even bothered appearing at the time, just in the after-action report. My leg was throbbing and would make the trip home no fun. I considered using some of Lira’s healing ointment, but I was sure I’d need that for more pressing wounds. A bandage would have to suffice. I pulled up my trouser leg and wrapped it tightly. It would hold until Lira could Restore it.

Now for the loot.

I pried Manchee’s staff from his dead grip, just like I’d promised myself I would. And I couldn’t resist the temptation of taking a look right away.

Weapon: Manchee’s Staff. Type: Magic Focus. Quality: Crude Enchanted. Attack: 1. Speed: 7. Magic Power: 5. Special: Light. Radius: 1 ft. Special: Stone Shards 5/day. Range: short.

Hah! He was a faker! He didn’t have any magic. It all came from his staff! I wondered if it needed magic talent to use it. Lira could have this if she wanted it; I’d feel better knowing she could defend herself.

It didn’t take me long to find my gear. With no goblins still alive, I could walk around with impunity, though I did keep an eye out for traps. There was a nook in one wall, easy to find due to all the surrounding candles, and there were my old leathers, my rapier, torch, dagger, and my original pack. I swapped out my new rapier for the old one, switched my pack around, and then bundled everything into the bag I’d taken from Lira for the journey home. Along with all of Manchee’s treasures. All of them worth anything, anyway—I left him the ornate bird skulls and prized polished pebbles. But there were two handfuls of gold and silver coins, another of copper, and a couple of small but shiny gems. They must be worth something.

And that was it. Quest complete, all save for the handing in.

Time to get back to Lira, then leave this place behind.

This was just the start. But I was level 7, I’d gained a bunch of skill points, and learned a lot about the mechanics of this world. I was ready for my next challenge, whatever it might be.

Injuries aside, I’d had a blast to boot. I’d even miss our pretty little valley and our tiny ramshackle hut. Good memories, good times. Maybe, when I was king and god of this whole world, I’d return here, tear down that hut, and put up a cute little holiday cottage with magical hot tubs and out-of-sight servants’ quarters, making the whole valley a private royal retreat.

I mean, why not? I was going to rule this world.

What could stop me?

Chapter 22

Residence and Residents

Lira and I rode back into Fernwick on her stallion, our bags loaded down with my spare equipment and all the goblin weapons and armor I’d salvaged.

She sat in front of me, my arm around her waist. Mostly around her waist; my hand may have wandered from time to time. She’d been delighted with the gift of the shaman’s staff, and it was the right size for her. To be fair, it had been too large for Manchee, but he’d probably acquired it the same way I had—at sword-point.

Rolf came out from his forge as we arrived, bare-chested and in his apron as usual, and he held the bridle while I dismounted. I helped Lira down, then turned to greet the blacksmith with a grin and an offered arm. “Good to see you again.” I meant it. If it wasn’t for him, I’d never have got this quest. Besides, I knew a good man when I saw one.

“Welcome back, Kaelan. I was beginning to worry.” He clasped my forearm, then turned to Lira with a grin of his own. “Hello again, little lady. Now that I see you with this man, it all makes sense.”

She gave him a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes like it did when she smiled at me. Perhaps she didn’t care for the ‘little lady’ comment; at five-foot-eight, she was only 'little' compared to Rolf’s bulk.

Rolf turned back to me. “When you didn’t return, I figured you were lunch for the goblins. It’s good to see you again. Any progress?”

“I’ve finished,” I said, unable to hide the smugness in my voice. “The mine’s clear.”

Rolf stared at me. “The mine’s clear? Did the goblins just up and leave?”

I grinned. “Nope, still there. Didn’t have time to move all the bodies, though. You can probably round up some men for that.”

Rolf blinked. “You killed them all? Already?”

I was enjoying his shock. “Yep, all done.”

His eyes narrowed. “How many were left?”

“I lost count around twenty or thirty. Something like that. And a shaman.”

Rolf’s eyes widened. “A shaman?”

“We were off to give Bjorn the good news. Want to come?”

“Sure,” Rolf said, pulling off his apron and reaching for his shirt. “I wouldn't miss this for anything. I want to see his face.”

Bjorn’s house, naturally, was the largest in town. He introduced us to both of his wives before showing us into a comfortable room where we sat around the hearth. There were wicker chairs for Rolf, Lira, and me. Simple yet surprisingly comfortable. One of his wives served drinks, while the other sat beside him on a bench covered with cushions.

Lira didn’t bat an eyelid at the fact that Bjorn had more than one wife; either she was a consummate diplomat, or the custom was common enough in Valorah. Either way, it wasn’t my place to comment, and I focused on the reason for our visit.

“I finished the quest you gave me. The mine is clear.”

Bjorn’s reaction was more skeptical than Rolf’s had been. He crossed his arms, eyeing me sharply. “You expect me to take your word for that?”

Lira’s posture stiffened beside me, her fingers tightening around the armrest. She shot Bjorn a glare, her voice like cold steel. “How dare you speak to Kaelan like that!”

I leaned back in my chair, content to let Lira have her fun. She was already in full defense mode—my tigress ready to pounce. Rolf met my eye, covering a smile with one hand.

Bjorn had the decency to look embarrassed but wasn’t ready to back down. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We’ll need to send men to the mine before you’re paid. I’m sure you understand.”

“Thank you,” I said graciously, like he hadn’t just doubted my word. I couldn’t resist twisting the knife a little. “Maybe you could ask them to do a body count while they’re at it. I lost track after I passed twenty.”

“Is there a bonus for a shaman?” Rolf asked with exaggerated innocence, clearly on my side. Maybe Bjorn wasn’t his drinking buddy.

“A … a shaman?” Bjorn’s eyes boggled.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s dead, too,” I assured the mayor, then nodded to the staff that Lira was holding. “That used to be his.”

We all took a moment to admire the staff, and there were gasps as Lira activated the light spell. The crystal glowed brightly, filling the room with a radiance that outshone the daylight. Unlike the shaman’s erratic, headache-inducing pulse, this light was steady. Constant. My High Priestess was clearly stronger, and I couldn’t help but give her a proud smile.

“I’m sure we can work out some kind of bonus…” Bjorn mumbled, still mesmerized.

“There’s also the matter of the house,” I reminded, delicately.

“Yes, yes,” Bjorn said, tearing his gaze from the staff and waving a hand dismissively. “Take your pick. Rolf can show you which ones are available.”

“Thank you,” I said, rising. “Do let me know how many bodies there were, won’t you?”

“Yes … of course,” Bjorn said, caught like a deer in headlights as he gazed again at Lira’s staff.

I smiled. “Good day, then.”

Rolf and Lira followed me out.

“He can be a bit tightfisted, but he’s not a bad fellow,” Rolf said. “Want to see the houses?”

“Sure. Lead on.”

“Houses?” Lira murmured to me as we walked.

I shrugged. “I thought I’d need somewhere to live until I’m ready to return to Norathil.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea. Could I … possibly stay with you?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you think I’d let my High Priestess stay anywhere else?”

She smiled and lowered her eyes.

Rolf led us to a house, larger than the others, on a side street off the main thoroughfare. It was built mostly of timber, with wattle and daub filling the gaps—if I remembered my history right. A thatched roof, two stories, shutters on the windows, and a sturdy front door. It was tidy, practical, and had a certain charm.

"This one’s first," Rolf said, gesturing toward it. “Biggest, too.”

I nodded in approval. It looked perfect.

“Belonged to a man called Petro,” Rolf said. “Son of a merchant from Taralith, a few days from here. Quite wealthy.” He shrugged. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but truth be told, he was a bit of a prick. No great loss.”

“Why did he move here if he lived in Taralith?” I asked.

Rolf shrugged again, his massive shoulders rising and falling easily. “Married a girl here. Nice one, too. I think her name is Senna.”

“That’s sad,” I said. Even if Rolf hadn’t liked the man, I felt sorry for the girl. Lira caught my eye, her expression sympathetic. “And this is the biggest, you say?”

“Biggest and the best, if you ask me.”

“Do you like it?” I asked Lira.

“It’s lovely,” she said, offering a soft smile.

I nodded. “We’ll take this one, then.”

“Good choice,” Rolf said. “Do you want to see inside?”

“Sure.”

He strode up to the door, but instead of unlocking or opening it as I’d expected, he knocked.

I exchanged a puzzled glance with Lira as we followed. Was someone living here? That would complicate things.

The door opened, revealing a young woman in a simple shift, her feet bare. She looked at Rolf, glanced past him to Lira and me, then quickly lowered her eyes and took a pace back, opening the door wider. “Please, come in.” Her voice was soft and quiet.

A maid, perhaps? Sent to prepare the house, no doubt. Thoughtful of whoever had arranged that—likely Rolf. I made a mental note to thank him later.

We followed him into the house.

We stepped inside, the house rustic but cozy. A stone hearth dominated the central room, with pots and cooking utensils hanging neatly along one wall. Herbs and vegetables lay bundled nearby. Another kind touch. The stone floor had been swept clean, and a large wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by chairs. A timber staircase led upstairs, and a back door opened into the common area that ran behind the houses.

“What’s in there?” I gestured to a smaller door off to the side.

“Storeroom, if I recall?” Rolf said, glancing at the maid, who nodded.

“Very nice,” I commented, noticing the woman blush. She was very pretty, with large brown eyes and long dark hair worn in a tight braid down her back. I briefly wondered if it would be possible to keep her services. While I was sure Lira wouldn’t mind the housework, I’d much prefer to pay someone else to handle it. “What’s upstairs?”

“Two bedrooms, my Lord,” she replied softly, “and a bathroom.”

Lira smiled warmly at her, but the girl still kept her gaze down.

“This is one of the few houses in the village with a bathroom,” Rolf added, leading us up the stairs. One room held a copper tub. The prospect of filling it from the town well looming in my mind.

The maid, noticing my gaze, spoke quietly. “I’ve already fetched water, my Lord. There are jugs in the storeroom.”

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.” I smiled, trying to ease her nerves, and I was rewarded with another blush.

The upstairs held two bedrooms: a small room opposite the bathroom with a single sleeping pallet, while the master at the end of the hall had a large bed comfortably big enough for two. I winked at Lira when the others weren’t watching.

“It’s perfect,” I said to Rolf as we descended. “We’ll be quite at home here.”

The maid bit her lip, eyes still cast downward.

“Right then,” Rolf said with a nod. “I’ll let Bjorn know you’ve made your choice. Fancy a beer later?”

“Sounds good.”

He tugged at his forelock toward Lira and the maid. “Ladies,” he said before leaving, the door closing behind him.

“Would you like some dinner, my Lord?” the maid asked, her voice almost a whisper. “I gathered extra provisions in case you chose this house.”

“You knew we were coming?” I asked, surprised.

“Rolf kindly mentioned it a few days ago,” she explained, her voice wavering. “Though … I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“You’ve already done so much,” I assured her with a kind smile. “I couldn’t ask for more, and I’m sure you’ve got places to be. Lira and I can handle the cooking.”

The maid’s head snapped up, and her eyes widened in alarm. From behind her, Lira shook her head urgently, warning me I’d somehow erred. But we weren’t even paying the girl yet. Wasn’t it presumptuous to keep her here?

“Of … of course, my Lord,” the maid said, her brown eyes brimming with sudden tears as she turned away.

Lira stepped forward, placing a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Why don’t you sit by the hearth, dear? I need a quick word with Kaelan.”

Frozen in place, the maid seemed too stunned to respond. Gently, Lira guided her to one of the chairs near the fire. I noticed they were wicker, like the ones at Bjorn’s house, and they looked just as comfortable, but I was more concerned with the girl’s reaction. I was clearly missing something. The tension in the room had thickened into something almost tangible. Taking a seat at the table, I let Lira handle the situation—she had a much better grasp of this world’s social subtleties than I did.

Once she had the girl settled by the hearth, Lira came over to sit beside me, leaning in close.

“I think we should make sure she has family before we turf her out,” Lira murmured.

“Turf her out?” I said, a little too loudly. The maid gave a little sob, and I quickly lowered my voice. “What do you mean ‘turf her out’?”

“If she doesn’t stay here, she won’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Maids live in the house?” I asked, feeling a bit confused but seeing the advantages of such an arrangement.

“Maid?” Lira repeated, her brow furrowing. “That’s Senna. The widow?”

I blinked. “Wait … this is her house?”

“Yes. Well, it was. It’s yours now.”

“That can’t be right! Rolf never said she lived here!” But then I remembered Bjorn mentioning something about wives. “Are all the houses occupied?”

Lira nodded. “Most likely. The houses would have belonged to the men who died in the mines, and if they had wives, the women stayed. It’s rare for a woman to live alone otherwise.”

“What happens to them?” I asked, frowning.

“They find another husband or they’re evicted when the house changes hands,” Lira explained with a casual shrug, though her eyes darkened slightly at the harshness of it.

“That’s …” Barbaric. But this wasn’t Earth, and my judgments didn’t belong here. It didn’t sit well with me, but maybe, in such a society, it was the only way for a woman to have safety and security. I took a breath. “I didn’t realize. Very well. I’ll talk to her.”

Lira smiled gently. “I know you’ll do the right thing, my God.”

Great. But what was the right thing? Upsetting Lira wasn’t on my agenda, either. “Wait … do you think she should stay?”

Lira nodded without hesitation. “It would be the kindest option, don’t you think?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious smile. “Why would I mind?”

“Well, you know … you and me …”

“Whatever you choose to do is your decision, Kaelan,” she said, her hand resting warmly on mine. “With or without Senna, I just hope that I may stay by your side.”

I swallowed. Right. It was like that.

“I’ll talk to her,” I muttered again.

As if I didn’t have enough to deal with already: keep Lira safe, level up, kill Drakos, save Valorah … and now another mouth to feed.

Suppressing a sigh, I walked over to the girl, who rose at my approach, standing nervously.

“Senna, isn’t it?” Lira’s reminder of her name had saved me from fumbling that one.

“Yes, my Lord,” she said quietly, still staring down at the floor, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shift.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She glanced up, her face showing her confusion. “My loss?”

“Your late husband.”

“Oh. Him.” She looked down again. “Thank you for your kind words, my Lord.”

Not exactly the reaction of a grieving widow missing the throes of early love. I raised an eyebrow at Lira, who only shrugged in return.

I tried another approach. “It’s a beautiful home. You’ve kept it very well.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she said, woodenly.

Alright. This was going nowhere. Time to be more direct.

“Would you like to stay? Live here, with Lira and me?”

Her head shot up, wide eyes brimming with surprise and hope. “Do you mean it?”

Seeing her reaction, I realized I couldn’t turn her away now. “Of course. We would be glad if you did.”

“Oh, thank you, my Lord!” Before I could react, she threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist, her head pressed against my chest. “Thank you so much!”

You have gained a new Companion.

Yeah, I’d already figured that out.

Chapter 23

Chased and Challenged

I patted Senna’s shoulder reassuringly, glancing at Lira, who was trying not to laugh. She gave me a nod and a smile like I’d done something well.

And maybe I had. I still wasn’t really sure.

But it seemed to work. Senna looked more cheerful after that, busily moving about the kitchen and showing Lira what she was preparing. They chatted about herbs, condiments, and the proper way to smoke meat. I stayed by the hearth, feeling like I ought to help, but more than happy to let them bond. Lira’s presence was likely less intimidating than mine, anyway.

A few moments later, Senna appeared in front of me with a tankard in her hands, offering it toward me shyly. “Mead, my Lord. I made it myself.”

I took the tankard and smiled. “Please, call me Kaelan.”

“Yes, Kaelan.” She gave me a quick curtsy, then lingered as if waiting for something. What was she—Oh.

I raised the tankard to my lips, bracing myself for what I assumed would be a rough, homemade drink. It wasn’t. The mead was smooth and delicious. “This is excellent,” I said, surprised by the flavor.

She twirled like a happy thing, dashing back to Lira’s side, leaving me with my drink and shaking my head at her innocent exuberance. In some respects, it was heartwarming to see her take such pleasures in simple things; she’d lost her husband so recently, and I couldn’t imagine life had been easy for her.

Dinner followed the same sort of pattern. I was called to the table, but there were only two place settings.

“Have you already eaten?” I asked, glancing at Senna. I was sure she hadn’t; they’d been cooking for the last hour.

“No, my Lord. Kaelan, I mean,” she corrected herself quickly, blushing as she lowered her eyes. “I will eat later.”

I frowned. We were going to have to address this shy, too-afraid-to-talk habit, but one gentle step at a time. “Lira and I would prefer if you joined us. We’re living together, after all. The least we can do is share a meal.” Senna’s hands clenched in the fabric of her shift, wringing the material in her nervousness. Her eyes lowered.

“I’m sure we’d both love to get to know you, and you us,” I said, as kindly as I could, while I caught Lira’s eye over Senna’s head.

Lira stepped forward, accepting my plea for help. “Please join us, Senna. It would mean a lot to both of us.” Her gentle tone sounded more genuine than mine.

With a small, hesitant nod, Senna fetched another plate and more cutlery, joining us at the table. We ate the delicious stew she had prepared, accompanied by freshly baked bread, but the lightness of the mood began to fade when Lira asked Senna about her past.

“Have you lived in Fernwick long?” Lira began.

“No, ma’am,” Senna replied quietly. “My father had a small hut a little way from the village. But when Petro came, he brought me here.”

I blinked. “You mean after you and Petro fell in love and decided to marry?” I had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t the case at all.

Senna’s eyes widened, and she froze, her hand holding the spoon motionless beside her plate. She stared down at her stew, not moving.

Lira caught my eye and then spoke softly to the girl. “Did Petro negotiate with your father?”

Senna nodded.

“Then he brought you back here?”

Another nod.

“And were you married soon after?”

“That same week, ma’am.”

Lira took her empty hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Was he killed soon after?”

Senna’s head bobbed once, almost mechanically. “A few weeks later, ma’am.”

“And … did that make you sad?” Lira’s voice was even gentler now like she was coaxing a frightened animal from hiding.

Senna’s knuckles turned white where she gripped her spoon. Then she shook her head, the movement vigorous, shaking loose a dark brown curl from her tightly plaited hair. She glanced guiltily at me, then back down at her food.

Her reaction said it all. My jaw clenched in anger, and I glanced at Lira helplessly. It was probably for the best that Petro was already dead. I might have been tempted to make him that way otherwise.

“You’re safe here, Senna,” I said softly, trying to match Lira’s soothing tone. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

She lifted her head, her eyes guarded and wary, like a wild creature that had been struck too many times by the hand that fed it.

“Kalean is a very kind and gentle man,” Lira added, and I nearly flushed at the praise. “He takes very good care of me. He’s never hurt me or forced me to do something I didn’t want to do.”

Senna’s wide eyes flicked toward her, and then she let out a long, shaky breath.

I needed to change the subject before the conversation got any darker. “Do you see your father often?”

“He died, my Lord.”

I winced. Not exactly the cheerful topic I’d been aiming for. “I’m sorry to hear that.” This girl had been dealt a tough hand, though maybe such stories were common around here. “Have you enjoyed living in Fernwick?”

Senna froze again, the tension in her frame tightening. No answer.

Lira threw me an exasperated glance. But how was I to know that even the simplest question was a goddamn minefield?

I leaned back in my chair and let Lira take the lead. She was handling this much better than I had been.

She squeezed Senna’s hand again. “Has a man here shown interest in you?”

A jerky nod.

Alright, not what I expected, but maybe it was good. Maybe she had a boyfriend, and this could all work out.

“Do you like him?” Lira asked.

Another stiff shake of the head. So, not a boyfriend, then.

“Does he want you to marry him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to marry him?”

A violent shake of the head this time.

Lira shot me a significant look as if to say, see?

“You don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to,” I said, leaning forward again. “You can stay here with us as long as you wish. You can marry who you want to marry.”

Senna looked up, her face filled with such raw, fragile gratitude.

As she glanced down again, I quickly pulled up her info card, confirming my suspicions:

I felt my fist clench on the table and was only vaguely aware of both girls staring.

Her character sheet told the whole story: both her current predicament in that damning negative Attraction score, and her troublesome past, reflected in Defense, Perception, and Speed. Yet despite it all, her Resilience was impressive. A testament to her courage.

“Is your suitor’s name Jarek, by any chance?” I managed to grind out, my teeth clenched.

She stared, wide-eyed. “Who told you?” she whispered.

“Just … call it a hunch.” My voice was tight, and I worked to loosen my fist. Senna didn’t need more tension in her life.

I leaned back in my chair, my appetite gone, and took a swig of my mead. “As far as I’m concerned, this house belongs to you as much as it does me.” I tried for a smile, pushing my anger down with an effort. “Why don’t we all work to make it as happy a place as we can, eh?”

Lira clapped her hands together. “Oh, what a lovely idea! Perhaps tomorrow we could pick some wildflowers, Senna. A bunch or two would be so pleasant in this room. Would you help me with that?”

Senna glanced between us, her eyes still too wide for my liking, but after a moment, she nodded. “That would be nice … if it’s alright with you, my Lord.”

“Please call me Kaelan,” I said as the girl blushed again and lowered her eyes. “And while you’re out, maybe ask Lira about my thoughts on the freedom of choice.”

“He’s big on that,” Lira stage-whispered conspiratorially. “He likes to know that we only do things we want to do.”

I gave her a grateful smile, impressed by how effortlessly she navigated the conversation. She was always a step ahead. Curious, I glanced at her info card to see if anything new had surfaced. Etiquette, Rank 24. That explained it. My High Priestess was as tactful and wise as she was beautiful.

Someone chose that moment to pound on the door, making the wood rattle in its frame and both girls jump.

“He’s here!” Senna gasped, her face draining of color.

Good. After seeing Senna’s info, I’d been hoping to meet Jarek.

The pounding came again, insistent and demanding.

I took a moment to wipe my mouth with my napkin, then leisurely stood up from the table. I made my way to the door, in no particular rush, and opened it.

“Did you knock?”

The man standing outside was a big fellow, I had to give him that. Taller than me, with broad shoulders and a barrel for a chest. He scowled, thick eyebrows meeting in the middle. No, my mistake: just the single eyebrow.

“Where’s Senna?” Jarek demanded.

“Inside, having dinner.” I smiled lazily. “Sorry, she can’t come out to play today.”

“She’s mine,” he grunted. “She’s mine, and so is this fuckin’ house. And you’re in my fuckin’ way.”

I leaned against the doorframe, examining the nails of one hand for signs of dirt, then polishing them on the lapel of my leather jacket. “I think you’ll find this house belongs to me. I was granted it for clearing out the mine. You know … the goblin-infested mine?”

“Yeah, so I heard.” Jarek spat on the ground. “Bullshit, I call that. You ain’t cleared out no mine. Why don’t you come out ’ere, and I’ll knock the shit out of yer. Then you can fuck off ou’ of town and give me my house. And my wife.”

“She’s not your wife, and this isn’t your house.”

“Yeah? She’s not your wife either, and I challenge yer.”

Those last three words seemed to be delivered with a significance I was ignorant of. Best check with Lira before I said the wrong thing. I gave Jarek a faux-pleasant smile. “One moment, please.” I closed the door in his face.

I strolled nonchalantly back to the table, ignoring the insistent thumping on my door. “You’re absolutely correct, Senna. It was indeed Jarek.” I glanced at Lira. “What is the custom here regarding challenges?”

“A man can challenge another if he feels slighted,” Lira replied, looking up at me with her usual calm. Next to her, Senna was shaking, her hands gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white. Her wide eyes were locked on the door, which trembled in time to Jarek’s pounding.

“The rules, please?”

Lira shrugged. “Usually, to the victor go the spoils.”

I nodded. It was barbaric, but not a surprise. “And the loser? Dead, I presume?”

Senna glanced up at me, her face pale, but Lira shook her head. “Not usually. It’s settled with unarmed combat, witnessed publicly.” She glanced at Senna. “Three rounds of two minutes?”

The girl gave a jerky nod, too distraught to speak.

Well, shit. I didn’t have a single rank in unarmed. Meanwhile, judging by Jarek’s size, he bench-pressed cows and moonlighted as a human battering ram.

“And if I refuse?”

Lira glanced involuntarily at Senna, then grimaced up at me. “You lose by default and are branded a coward.”

She recognized the risks as much as I did. This wasn’t like fighting Drakos. Jarek didn’t have to kill me to win, and there were no infinite respawns if I failed.

Dammit. Why hadn’t I leveled up unarmed combat?

Chapter 24

Pugilist and Punishment

Jarek was waiting outside.

I had to give him my answer, and there was only one answer to give.

It felt like facing Drakos again. Hopelessly outmatched, with no alternatives. But I was damned if I was going to let him have Senna without a fight.

Wait … to the victor go the spoils … but neither Senna nor Lira were my wives. Did that mean Jarek could claim both of them?

Fuck that for a game of tag. I had to fight, and I had to win.

I pulled the door open, and he was still standing there, his powerful arms folded over his massive chest. A few villagers were watching from across the street, blatant in their rubber-necking. Nothing like free entertainment in the form of drama.

“I accept,” I said. “Tomorrow morning⁠—”

“No, now.” He slapped one large fist into his palm. “You come out ’ere now. The women, too. Both of ’em. I want ’em to watch when I pummel the living crap out of yer.”

“Uh-huh.” He’d just answered my question of whether Lira’s freedom was at stake.

This world needed some changes made, and I knew just the person to make sure they were implemented.

But one step at a time.

I glanced over my shoulder at Lira. “Who usually chooses the time and venue?”

“The challenger.”

Crap.

“Well, then. I suppose we better get on with it.”

We all walked out of the house, only a couple of hours after I’d walked into it. I wondered if it would still be mine roughly six minutes from now.

Jarek was leading our little party, and I followed in no hurry. Lira walked by my side. Senna was tagging along behind, but I couldn’t spare the girl too much thought. I needed to focus. The villagers I’d seen were following, too, but then Lira had said the challenge was contested public. I wondered if Rolf was around somewhere.

He was. His forge had a good view of the square, in as much as the wide patch of road near the village well was the ‘square’. He put down his tools and wandered over.

“Trouble?” he asked me.

“Jarek interrupted dinner,” I said lightly.

“I challenge the newcomer!” Jarek yelled, lifting both arms as he preened around the road. “Come watch me smash ’is face in!”

Rolf glanced at me, concerned. “Jarek’s no pushover, Kaelan.”

“Mmm.” But an inkling of a plan was forming. “Three rounds of two minutes, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s how we do it.”

“A break between rounds?”

“Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Not long. A minute, no more.”

Five minutes between the start of round one and the start of round three. Perfect.

“And the winner is decided by…?”

“Last man standing.”

Alright, I had a plan … of sorts. And if I could survive long enough to pull it off.

Many of the villagers had gathered while Rolf and I had been talking, drawn by Jarek’s shouts and the growing crowd. Bjorn was there, and so was Therin. I didn’t know any of the rest.

“Who keeps time?”

“Me, usually. I stand around with my hammer, too, just to make sure folks play by the rules.” He shrugged. “Even Jarek will respect that.”

I could imagine he would. Jarek might be a big fellow, but Bjorn was as strong as an ox.

While we were waiting, I pulled up Jarek’s card:

Oh, he so wasn’t making eyes at my girl. He’d only taken a single glance of Lira, through the door of my fucking house.

Strength 17. It wasn’t a surprise, but fuck. He’d flatten me in a straight brawl. I needed to stay smart, stay quick, and hope I could survive long enough to pull off my plan. I didn’t care that I couldn’t see his unarmed skill. Frankly, I didn’t want to. I only knew I couldn’t afford to lose this match—there was too much at stake.

Across the road, Jarek was taking his shirt off, passing it to another man who was giving him words of encouragement. I made a mental note of that fellow, too.

“Any rules for the fighting?” I asked Rolf as I pulled off my jacket, handing it to Lira.

“No weapons.” Rolf turned his eyes skyward, as if trying to remember if he’d forgotten something. “Yeah, that’s about it. No weapons. Oh, and no help. Knew I’d forgotten something. It has to be just the two of you.”

In other words, teeth, gouging, going for the eyes, and strikes below the belt were all perfectly legal. Got it.

“How do the rounds start and end?”

“I yell ‘begin’ or ‘stop’.”

That made a certain sense. “And timing?”

“Count my own heartbeats, usually.”

That wasn’t the best news. “I don’t mean any offense, my friend, but is that accurate?”

Rolf shrugged. “Do you want it to be?”

“If you don’t mind, on this occasion.” Timing was everything if my plan was to work.

Rolf glanced around. “Nira, be a dear and grab my timer, would you, please?”

A woman walked off toward Rolf’s forge, returning a moment later with an hourglass filled with fine gray sand.

“Hourglass?” I said, one eyebrow raised. That didn’t sound too accurate.

Rolf shrugged again. “It’ll measure two minutes just fine.”

It would have to suffice.

“Are we doin’ this?” Jarek growled from across the road.

Pulling off my shirt, I gave that to Lira, too, and stepped forward.

Jarek walked out to meet me, grinning as he came. “Y’know, yer gone and done me a favor.”

“Oh?” I said, not really interested.

Jarek swung his large arms, loosening up. “If yer hadn’t gone an’ taken that house an’ those girls, I’d’ve had to have done it the ol’-fashioned way.” He grinned again. “Now I’ll be in bed with both of ’em by sunset.”

I turned to Rolf. “I’ve had enough of this guy. Let’s get this party started, eh?”

Rolf grinned. “Ready, Jarek?”

“Ready to smash his fuckin’ face in?”

“Ready, Kaelan?”

“Yep.”

“Begin!”

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

Jarek charged in like an ox, head down and arms spread wide. I knew what would happen if he got hold of me.

He was a hell of a lot stronger than me and probably more skilled. For now. We’d see how long that remained true. If I could survive the first two rounds.

I dived to my side, rolling under his outstretched arm, gaining my feet as he lumbered past. He spun, far faster than I would’ve liked to have seen, a fist coming around in a haymaker that would’ve ended the fight right then if it had connected. I ducked under it, throwing a punch that landed just beneath his arm. He didn’t even flinch.

I might not have an unarmed combat skill, but I did have my dodge at rank seven and speed at nine. Would it be enough?

Jarek backhanded his fist at me, and I caught his forearm with both hands. That proved to be a mistake; it was like catching a baseball bat, swung by someone who really hated me. His raw strength pushed me back, and then his other fist slammed into my stomach.

I folded, gasping for air, barely able to dodge the elbow strike he followed up with. It clipped me above the eye, knocking me sideways. I rolled with the momentum and regained my feet just in time to spin away from his next charge. A quick kick to his foot as he passed sent him sprawling.

That wouldn’t have been a fair move in the boxing ring back at school, but here it earned a titter of laughter from the crowd. It seemed they weren’t rooting for Jarek. He pushed himself up, his grin replaced with a scowl. Oops, I pissed him off.

Whether that was a good or bad thing, I wasn’t sure.

He charged again, and once more I ducked under his arm. But too late, I saw the gleam of cunning in his eye. He knew my tactics now, and while he might not be the sharpest tool in the box, he was no stranger to brawling. He stopped his headlong charge far more abruptly than I’d expected, and his fist came down toward my ribs. I barely blocked in time, his blow striking my arm, yet there was enough strength behind it to knock me to the ground.

He was on me before I could recover, his foot lashing out as I tried desperately to roll away. He caught me in my thigh, then again on my arm. I scooped a handful of the sandy earth and flung it in his face, using the fleeting distraction to scramble to my feet.

Jarek shook his head, brushing an arm over his face, then growled. “Gonna fuck you up, Kaelan, and then I’m gonna fuck your girls. Both of ’em.”

He came in again, no lumbering charge this time. His fists were swinging like Rolf’s hammer. I’d felt his strength and knew I couldn’t afford to take a single hit, barely managing to stay out of his way. I did land a couple of punches of my own, but they had little effect. I’d have to land a strike on something vulnerable or important to stop this guy.

So, that ruled out his brain.

He threw another punch, and I ducked beneath it. But again his eyes glinted as I fell into his trap, and his large hand landed on my head, grabbing my hair. He held me still and pulled his other fist back, and the only thing I could do was raise both arms.

The punch crashed into my forearms, slamming them into my face. His next punch caught me in my side, my ribs bruised with the impact, the breath knocked out of me.

“Stop,” Rolf said, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

But Jarek still held my hair, and I wasn’t about to drop my guard. His fist came at me again. I saw it at the last moment, jerking my head to the side, still catching a glancing blow on my already bruised eye. The skin split above my eyebrow, and blood ran into my eye and down my cheek. I blinked through the stinging.

“Stop!” Rolf shouted, lifting his hammer up as he took a step toward us.

Jarek threw me down, then raised his hands as he turned to Rolf and grinned. “I’ve stopped, Blacksmith, I’ve stopped.”

Rolf spat on the ground at his feet. “Free punch to Kaelan,” Rolf said. “Jarek, if you move, he’ll have another.”

“I know t’ rules,” Jarek grunted.

I pushed myself up. Jarek knew he could take my strikes; he’d shrugged off every one so far. But what he didn’t know was that I’d mostly dodged up to this point, and landing another punch would really help. I stepped up to him, pulled my fist back, and punched him right in the nose.

“Fucker!” Jarek howled, clutching his face as his eyes teared up and blood spurted from between his fingers. I probably hadn’t hit him that hard, relative to his ox-like constitution, but if it made it more difficult for him to see, I’d take the advantage.

“A minute break,” Rolf said.

I staggered away, getting some space, letting my God Power know there was a lull in combat, hoping to see …

Attack has gained 2 ranks.

Defense has gained 3 ranks.

Speed has gained 3 ranks.

Dodge has gained 4 ranks.

You have gained a new skill: Unarmed Combat. Unarmed Combat is now level 1.

Unarmed Combat has gained 5 ranks.

… that.

I fucking loved my god power.

And I had about three minutes left.

Lira watched me, her eyes full of concern, fingers twitching as though ready to cast Restoration. I gave her a slight shake of the head, and she clenched her hands behind her back.

Senna stood beside her, hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with fear. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, but I was on the wrong side of the road from them.

Jarek was closer. He stepped up to Senna, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her in against him. She’d been staring at me and hadn’t noticed until it was too late. She beat her fists on his chest, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Not long now, yer lit’l thing,” he said. “You’ll have me inside you tonight.”

Then one large hand came up, groping her breast through her shift.

Chapter 25

Exact and Evict

“Rolf!” I snapped. “Tell that fucker to keep his hands off the stakes until the challenge is done, or so help me, I’ll walk back to my house, get my rapier, and cut his fucking balls off.”

Rolf stepped forward. “I’d listen to him if I were you, Jarek. I heard what he did to a man up in Taralith.” He shook his head sadly. “It wasn’t pretty. It really wasn’t pretty.”

Jarek dropped Senna like she was contagious, staring at me for a long moment. “Rules o’ the challenge, Kaelan. Fists only, righ’?”

“Stay away from my girls until we’re done.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He pointed a finger at Senna. “I’ll have time enough with yer tonigh’ anyway. Gonna enjoy every second.” He leered at her. “Every hole.”

Senna flinched at Jarek’s words, her face paling. She was trembling as she quickly moved behind Lira, desperate for the small barrier her friend offered. She kept her eyes on the ground, too scared to meet Jarek’s smirking gaze.

Lira, by contrast, stood tall and unyielding, her eyes fixed on Jarek with a quiet, cold fury. Bless my fearless High Priestess, but she was looking at Jarek like he was something she’d stepped in, not in the least bit cowed.

“Can we get on with it?” I asked Rolf. Jarek’s crudities were pissing me off. I wanted this done and him gone.

“Yeah. Ready, Jarek?”

Jarek grunted.

“I’m ready,” I said before Rolf asked me. Then I ran at Jarek.

He blinked in surprise to see me coming, then his arms spread wide, and he grinned.

He probably thought I was going to grapple with him. At least, that’s what I wanted him to think.

But two or three paces away, I launched myself into the air, driving both feet forward in the crudest flying kick imaginable. To my surprise, my Unarmed Combat skill points triggered more than I’d hoped, adding elegance and power. Jarek took both boots squarely in his chest. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me, but Jarek flew backwards, landing in the crowd and knocking over several innocent spectators.

“Sorry about that,” I said to them, climbing back to my feet and brushing the dirt off my leather trousers.

Jarek shoved a man off him, growling as he pushed himself up. He had two large boot prints on his chest, and they suited him well. He growled again, coming out of his crouch with fists swinging. I backed up, giving us space—both for the crowd’s safety and my own need to dodge. Jarek put his head down and charged me faster than I’d have thought possible for a man his size.

His large arms were outstretched, this time held too low to easily duck beneath. I only had a split-second to react, and only one move came to mind—a move I’d only ever seen, never tried to perform.

I let him reach me, falling backward as he did. With nothing solid to grab onto, I figured what goes around comes around and used his hair. My foot went into this stomach as I fell, and then I pulled and kicked off at the same time.

Pretty sure it was called a Tomoe Nage or something, but it was basically a judo throw … if my Unarmed Combat skill gave me the help I needed.

It did. Jarek went flying, landing on his back with an oof, bounced once, then skidded through the dirt. That was more than I’d hoped for. Skill points at work. Not bad for my first attempt at judo. I used the momentum of my fall to roll to my knees, and it allowed me time to recover from my own surprise that I’d made it work. I rose to my feet while Jarek still lay stunned, then dropped my knee into his throat.

He grunted, glaring up at me. I flashed him a pleasant smile. But I’d underestimated how much of an ox he was; his recovery was phenomenal, and even now he was faster than I expected. One spade-like hand grabbed my arm, and the other fist pummeled into my face.

I rolled with the first blow, barely getting my arm up for the second. My cheek stung like hell, the bone likely fractured, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. I needed to get out of there before he pinned me down and smashed the shit out of me. People didn’t ‘usually’ die, according to what Lira had said, but I knew Jarek would kill me if he had the chance. Sure, I’d respawn, but that would be at the hut in the valley, half a day away. Plenty of time for Jarek to have his way with my girls.

The thought of Jarek alone with Senna and Lira tore through my mind, a cold surge of panic lighting a fire in my gut. I couldn't let that happen. I twisted away from him with a burst of desperation, letting instinct and my fear for them fuel my movements. His next punch grazed my side, but I barely felt it, landing a kick to his face as I scrambled backward.

We both staggered to our feet, winded by the exchange.

“Once I’m done with you, Kaelan, I’ll take my time with the girls,” he said. “No one’s gonna stop me. Especially not them.”

A small, frightened gasp came from behind me.

I smiled. “Thanks,” I said. “I was wondering where to hit you next. Now I know.”

He growled his confusion and came at me again. But he’d learned his lesson—no more bull-like charges.

I stood tall, raising my fists in a mock Marquess of Queensbury stance. He sneered at my pathetic attempt, but if he thought I’d match him blow-for-blow, he was as dumb as his single eyebrow suggested.

I let him close in, my weight evenly balanced, guard up. He took a step, eyes narrowed, searching for a trap. I had no intention of going toe-to-toe with him—I just needed to present a tempting target. He took the bait. His eyes gleamed as he lunged forward, one large fist pile-driving at my head.

Which wasn’t there anymore. I dropped to a knee before him, then brought my fist up with all the power I had. Right between his legs. That’s what happens when you don’t have rules.

Jarek screamed, a high-pitched sound, falling to my feet with both hands clasped over his balls.

God Power Deactivated.

“Stop,” Rolf said, amusement in his tone.

I turned away from Jarek, who lay whimpering on the ground, and walked back toward the girls.

Strength has gained 1 point.

Attack has gained 3 ranks.

Defense has gained 2 ranks.

Speed has gained 5 ranks.

Dodge has gained 2 ranks.

Endurance has gained 3 ranks.

Unarmed Combat has gained 8 ranks.

That was more like it. I even scored a point in Strength—finally. Now I was looking forward to round three.

“You’re bleeding,” Lira said, her beautiful eyes full of concern.

“Not as much as he will be when I’m done with him.”

Senna peeked out from behind Lira, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Your cheek looks broken,” Lira said, raising a hand toward my face.

I took a step back. “Don’t touch me, baby. No healing, okay?”

I didn’t want to lose on a technicality, not after all this.

She let her hand fall. “Sorry, Kaelan.”

I gave them both a smile, my cheek protesting painfully. “One more minute, and this’ll all be over. Five more minutes, we’ll be sitting down together and finishing the delicious dinner Senna made.”

“Last round’s two minutes,” Lira said.

“Want a bet?”

“He’s up,” Lira said, glancing over my shoulder. Her eyebrows rose. “And he seems to be coming this way.”

I winked at her. “Rolf?” I called without turning.

“Yep?”

“I’m ready.”

Thirteen points in Unarmed Combat, and I was going to enjoy every one of them.

I spun on my heel, dodging sideways as Jarek’s fist swung through the gap where my head had been. Then I rabbit-punched him in the ear.

He bellowed, arm swinging around, but I ducked beneath it and snap-kicked him in the knee. It went sideways, popping out, dropping him to the ground—right before Lira and Senna. There was poetic justice in that.

“There’s only one man who touches my girls,” I said, snap-kicking him in the face, my boot landing with a crunch. I distinctly heard two teeth break away. Jarek screamed, his lower face covered in blood. Yep, two teeth. Maybe three.

He flailed an arm at me, and I caught his wrist, my other hand gripping his elbow. I spun, twisting hard, pulling his arm away from him and leaning all my weight on his joint. Then I lifted his wrist, applying an arm lock, not bothering to be gentle about it. He screamed again.

“You were rude to Senna, and I didn’t like that.” My voice was a low growl, laced with anger. I pulled harder, his scream turning to a whimper. “I think you should say sorry, don’t you?”

“Sorry …” he slurred through a mouthful of blood. “I’m sorry …”

There was a reason locks and holds were usually banned in civilized unarmed combat matches, but I wasn’t feeling particularly civilized in that moment. I pulled with all my strength, and his elbow dislocated with a satisfying crunch. Again, Jarek screamed.

Damn, but I loved the sound of that.

“I think you should leave Fernwick, don’t you?” I said, dropping his arm. He was kneeling forward, sobbing, only his good arm taking his weight. I walked behind him and, with no finesse but a shit load of satisfaction, I kicked him hard between the legs. The target was just there, and I didn’t like what he’d said earlier—or how he’d said it. Not to mention he’d put his hands on Senna. He didn’t even scream this time, just fell face down in the dirt, his breath wheezing out as he reached beneath himself with his one good arm and cradled his balls.

I leaned over him. “Jarek? Let me be clear. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. That was clear enough even for your ox-like brain, right?”

His whimper was all the confirmation I needed, and then I stamped on the side of his head.

He twitched and lay still.

The gathered spectators had gone quiet, and even Rolf was staring.

Did I overdo it? I might’ve overdone it. Even if fights like this were part of their culture, I didn’t want a reputation for brutality. Except, perhaps, where it was warranted.

I spread both hands wide. “Folks, I’m really sorry. I’m not normally like this. I just don’t think people should be rude to my ladies.”

Rolf looked away, turning his laugh into a cough. “Fight’s done,” he said. “Kaelan is the winner.”

Unarmed Combat has gained 1 rank.

There was a scattered round of applause, growing stronger as the villagers came out of their stunned stupor. Then it grew louder still, some cheers mixed in, and I got the impression quite a few of those present hadn’t much approved of Jarek or his ‘courting’ of Senna.

I glanced around, taking in the crowd’s expressions—no resentment or shock lingered in their eyes. Instead, I saw gratitude and approval, a shared sense of justice for one of their own being protected from an unfair challenge.

Satisfied, I turned to my girls. “Dinner?”

Lira tucked herself under my arm, pressing against my side, gazing up at me. “I never had any doubts.”

Senna was staring as wide-eyed as ever. But she had some color in her cheeks, and I’d take that as a win. I turned, holding my other hand out toward her. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me back to our house?” I put a subtle emphasis on ‘our’.

She reached out, taking my hand with her small one, and the very beginnings of a smile flirted with the corner of her lips.

I’d get her smiling yet. That went right to the top of my to-do list.

Turning, I led my girls away from the square. The crowd parted for us, a hand or two slapping me on the back as I passed.

Then I stopped. I looked across the square, seeking one particular face: the man who had wished Jarek luck. I found his eyes and let mine harden. He took a pace back, then turned and slipped away through the crowd. But I’d had a good look at him. I’d know him when I saw him again, and if it was anywhere near my house, next time it would be me making the challenge.

I carried on walking, putting him from my mind. “You know, I think I’m hungry.”

Lira giggled. “You called me ‘baby’,” she said, one hand pressed against my bare chest. My jacket and shirt were under her other arm, but she’d never particularly liked giving me back my clothes.

“Sorry.” I supposed I had, at that. I’d sort of been in the moment. “It’s a term of endearment where I’m from. It’s not meant derogatorily.”

She snuggled closer, her steps keeping time with mine. “You don’t need to apologize. I liked it.”

“Good. Then maybe I’ll call you it again.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Senna asked quietly, gesturing to my cheek and eye with the hand that wasn’t squeezing mine like she’d never let go.

I’d almost forgotten about my injuries in the adrenaline of the fight, but it was as if her drawing attention to them brought it all back. I wiggled my jaw, and that just made it worse. “Yes,” I said, honestly. “But don’t worry, Lira can fix it up.”

Lira glanced up at me, her expression forlorn, even as her eyes danced with mischief. “I would, Kaelan, really I would … but I’m all tapped out today.”

I stared down at her in surprise. That wasn’t just bullshit, it was a blatant-faced lie. So much for her being a programmed NPC, unable to make her own decisions. That was a fucking Turing test, right there.

She gave me a subtle wink. “I’m sure Senna would help.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I can help.”

“Uh-huh,” I said to Lira. Then I looked at Senna and gave her my best smile, which hurt my cheek quite a lot. “That would be great. Thank you very much.”

Chapter 26

Bruises and Balm

I sat at the table while Senna heated water in a jug on the fire, then poured it into a bowl.

“Lavender,” she murmured, rubbing the herb between her fingers and sprinkling it into the water. “Yarrow.” Petals fell into the bowl. “Thyme.” A few more. She gave it a stir, a look of intense concentration on her face.

The change was captivating. Her focus transformed her, casting aside the timid girl I’d seen earlier and revealing her inner beauty. She didn’t look scared anymore.

“What else…” she muttered under her breath.

Lira nudged the St John’s Wort across the table without saying a word. Heh, points to me for instantly recognizing it.

Senna gave her a grateful nod and added it to the mix.

I tried to hold still and not flinch as she cleaned the blood from the cut on my brow, but from the way Lira was watching me, I didn’t quite manage it. Senna chewed her lower lip with small white teeth every time I winced, and it was so cute it was tempting to ham it up a bit. She soaked a clean rag in the mixture and pressed it to my cheek, and that did hurt. I caught her eye, and she looked down, though a hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips. It didn’t quite check off ‘make Senna smile’ from my to-do list, but it was a start.

She pressed the cloth against the bruise on my ribs, and again I almost jumped. But her touch was gentle, the herbal remedy soothing. If Lira was right, this was helping Senna, too. And Lira was always right.

“Senna’s done a great job,” Lira said as she noticed me wince. “You’ll be fine by the morning.”

I suspected that was code for, ‘I’ll heal you when she’s asleep,’ but I still gave Lira a look, one reminiscent of our spanking conversation. She batted her eyelids at me.

NPC my ass. She knew exactly what she was doing, the little minx.

And that meant Senna wasn’t some scripted damsel either. She was real—and now, my responsibility. Curious, I pulled her card to see if the evening’s frivolities had changed her outlook on Jarek. Preferably in a less-scared way.

Healing and Herbology skills had appeared now that I knew she had them. While I was relieved Jarek’s negative Attraction score had vanished, it did raise concerns. It suggested denial of her trauma, and that wouldn’t help her heal long-term. But for tonight, if that was her way of coping, I couldn’t blame her one bit. Lira and I would just have to support her through this.

And she’d lost her Class. Wasn’t she a peasant before? She’d gained a level, too. Was this because she’d become my companion, boosted by my God power? If she leveled the same way Lira did, she wouldn’t have explicitly chosen where to put her points. They’d have just slotted into whatever skills were her focus. Like Attraction … dammit.

Maybe that was understandable after I’d fought and bled for her, but it was problematic. I had another budding relationship with an awkward power dynamic: Senna perceived that I held her future in my hands, and I supposed I did. But it was more precarious than my relationship with Lira. At least Lira understood the concept of free will; Senna’s life hadn’t allowed room for much of that.

By the time we finished dinner, the exhaustion was palpable. Especially from Senna, whose eyes had grown droopy.

“Time for bed,” I announced.

“Not until you’ve washed the sweat off,” Lira murmured.

I glanced down at myself. The mild evenings meant I’d been fine in just my trousers, but Lira was right. I did look like I’d gotten into a fight and rolled in the dirt. Funny, that.

“I’ll get some hot water,” Senna said, standing up so quickly she banged the table. She flushed, turning away with awkward haste, her earlier confidence vanishing.

“Something I said?” I mouthed at Lira.

She gave a small shrug.

I finished my mead while we waited for the water to heat, then Senna took two thickly padded cloths and bent to pick the jug up from the fire.

“Let me help with that,” I said, rising and coming around the table.

Senna dropped the cloths and stepped back so fast that for a moment I thought she’d burned herself. But she just stood there, eyes lowered, hands held in front of her shift. I resisted the urge to sigh. It wasn’t her fault she’d been bruised and battered by life. I needed to be patient, to let her see that things had changed.

I gave her a smile as I picked the jug up, but I don’t think she noticed. We trooped upstairs, Lira following close behind.

A bath was way too much trouble—it would take far more jugs than this to fill it—but there was a basin, and that would suffice. Senna had already laid out clean cloths and soap, and I stripped off and washed myself down. The dirty water went into a waste bucket to be emptied in the morning, and that was that.

“Lira?” I called, and she walked in a moment later. “Could you please get me a …”

She was already holding a towel in her hands.

“You’re an angel,” I said, taking it as I kissed her, then dried myself and wrapped it around my waist. “Do you want to wash? There’s plenty of water left.”

“Yes, I would. I’ll see you in bed.” Another kiss, and I padded along the passageway to the main bedroom.

A small oil lamp just inside the door burned with a soft glow, and the sheet had been folded down. A chest of drawers stood in one corner, our clothes not yet put away but stacked neatly on top.

There was no sign of Senna, but the door to the smaller room was closed. I hoped she slept well; she needed it.

Lira walked in a moment later, having foregone a towel. I lifted up the corner of the sheet, and she slid in next to me, her bare skin warm and soft against mine. “How’s the bed?” she asked.

“More comfortable than our last one.”

“I’ll bless it in the morning if you can try not to die until then.”

I gave her ass a slap beneath the sheet. “Cheeky.”

She wiggled beneath my hand.

“What do you think of our new girl?” I asked softly, mindful of the open door. The sound of gentle splashing came from the bathroom. “Oh, I thought she’d gone to bed.”

“No. She waited until we’d bathed before she went in herself.”

Of course she did.

“I think she’ll be alright … in the end,” Lira continued. “She’s got a certain … resilience.”

That was surprisingly perceptive for someone who couldn’t see Senna’s info sheet. I gave Lira a kiss for being infinitely wise and amazing.

We heard soft, bare steps coming down the hallway, and I froze. Was Senna just coming to say good night? I’d assumed she was going to sleep in the other room.

She walked in, face expressionless, her long, dark brown hair released from its plait to fall loose down her back. She only had a towel wrapped around her, and it wasn’t even that long, barely covering the essentials. Her gaze flicked to Lira, then she walked around to my side of the bed and dropped the towel.

“Senna…” My hand came down on the sheet. I was naked beneath it, Lira pressed against my side. Senna’s day had been traumatic enough.

She stared forward, brown eyes averted, expression wooden in the lamp’s soft light.

“You don’t need to do this,” I said gently. “Why don’t you sleep in the other room? It’s fine.”

Senna lowered her gaze, her face briefly reflecting a mix of strong emotions I couldn’t discern—relief? Disappointment? Panic? All of them? Then they disappeared as she slipped her mask back on. “As my Lord wishes,” she said numbly.

She bent to pick up her towel, wrapping it back around her nakedness, and walked, shoulders slumped, from the room. We heard the door to the second bedroom open and close.

A sharp jab poked me in the ribs, directly over my bruise.

“Ow! Dammit, woman!”

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Send her away!”

I stared at Lira, bewildered. “Are you kidding me right now?” I hissed at her in a whisper. “She’s had a hell of a day. She’s lost her house, been basically sold into slavery—to me no less. And all day long she’s been expecting to get taken tonight. Whether Jarek did it or I did! Doesn’t she deserve some space?”

Lira sighed, shaking her head. “I knew you weren’t trying to be cruel, but sometimes you really are dense! If you send her away, you’re rejecting her. Can’t you see? She’ll be in there thinking she’s not good enough, worrying you’ll toss her out in the morning when she has nowhere to go!”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering within me. “You mean I have to fuck her? When she’s already so emotionally traumatized?” I shook my head. “That’s going too far.”

“No, but you have to show her we want her. You have to show her she’s safe here, that she’s accepted.” Lira gave a small shrug, softening. “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt if you took her. I know you’d be gentle, and she needs that right now.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Tell me you’re not serious!”

“Perfectly serious, Kaelan. That girl has been through enough. The last thing she needs is to be lying in there, thinking that tomorrow her life is over.” Lira shook her head. “I don’t know what she’d do, and I don’t want to think about it.”

This was insane, but Lira’s implications about Senna's state of mind bothered me. To my view, the whole thing was twisted and barbaric. But if Lira saw it this way, if Senna did too, then who was I to impose a different belief system? Culture was nothing but collective perception, after all. This wasn’t the time to try to change anything—not tonight, not after everything we’d been through.

“Fine.” I pulled back the sheet and swung my legs out of bed. “But I’m not fucking her. I don’t agree with that.” I found my shorts in the pile of clothes, pulling them on. “And I’m not going in there naked. She’ll think I’m going to rape her.”

Lira’s brow furrowed. “How can it be rape? She belongs to you.”

I stared at her, stunned. “We’re definitely talking about this later. But while I’m in there with Senna, think about this: if someone says ‘no’, what could ever justify hearing ‘yes’?”

Leaving Lira looking thoughtful, I padded out into the hallway, stopping before Senna’s door.

Taking a steadying breath, I prepared myself for a difficult conversation. I’d just walked out of a debate about consent, and now I was about to convince a girl who thought she was owned to come and share a bed with me. All because it was the ‘right thing’ to do, according to the others in the house.

That was one hell of a mind-fuck.

Chapter 27

Hardship and Happiness

I knocked gently. “Senna?”

There was a moment of hesitation followed by a quiet, “Come in, my Lord.”

My Lord. That would have to go, too. It was even worse than ‘my God’.

I pushed the door open. It was dark in her room, save for the moonlight spilling in through the open window. Senna was standing before it, still wrapped in her towel.

The bed was untouched. The shutters had been pulled fully back, making the window little more than a hole in the wall; there was no glass. The fall wouldn’t kill her, but … beyond lay nothing but forests and fields, and I didn’t think she was intending to start a new farm.

She stood motionless in the silvery light, head down, shoulders hunched.

I swallowed a sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t enough to simply command her to walk back into our bedroom. Not after I’d supposedly rejected her. Maybe Lira was right again, dammit. Maybe it would be better if I fucked her. At least then, from the perspective of their twisted logic, I’d have shown I wanted her.

But I wasn’t going to. I had my own morals to consider, and I needed to be able to look myself in the eye. If I ever found a mirror in this barbaric world.

Some middle ground, then.

“I think I made a mistake,” I said. Perhaps honesty would help.

Her head came up, but her expression was difficult to discern amidst so many shadows. She said nothing, her breath hitching as she waited for me.

“I’m not … originally from Fernwick. Hell, I’m not from anywhere near here. Where I come from, things are done a bit differently.”

She still said nothing—no acknowledgment, no encouragement—just waited for me to speak.

I pressed on.

“Do you remember me mentioning something called ‘freedom of choice’?”

She gave a short, jerky nod.

“What does that mean to you?”

“It means that you can choose what you want to do,” she said in her soft, timid voice. There was a subtle emphasis on ‘you’, and I wasn’t sure she was even aware of it.

“Yes, and … what about you?”

“What do you mean, my Lord?” Her confusion was genuine, like my question baffled her.

I suppressed the urge to sigh in frustration and tried a different tack.

“Lira likes to make me happy, and I like to make Lira happy.”

She stared, saying nothing.

“Do you think we are happy together?” I prompted.

“Yes, my Lord.” There was something in her tone, but I couldn’t place it.

“What if I told you that I’m only happy if Lira is happy?”

“Then it would be her duty to be happy, my Lord.”

“Alright …” She didn’t seem to be getting the point, but I pushed on. “What if I told you I could tell when Lira was pretending and sought only her true happiness?”

She didn’t hesitate. “She would need to try harder to be happy for you, my Lord.”

Brick wall. It was like running into a fucking brick wall.

I paused, staring at the wall opposite as I tried to think of a way to reach her.

She began to tremble, as if she’d realized I wasn’t happy.

“Do you know what happiness is, Senna?”

“It’s when I’ve pleased you,” she said, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.

“What about your happiness? What does happiness mean to you?”

“I … I …”

I waited, but she said nothing more. Just stood there, in the dark.

It was at that moment when I finally considered that I’d bitten off more than I could chew. I couldn’t change this world. Not the way I wanted to. Hell, perhaps I had no right to. There were too many people in it like Senna. Like Jarek and Drakos. Not enough like Lira.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t change the sphere that was within my reach. Starting with this girl, however long it took.

Even if it meant doing things I didn’t want to do.

I stood up. “I would like to give you a choice. Tonight, you may either sleep in this room or come and sleep in the other room with Lira and me. Those are your only two options. Whichever you choose, I hope that you will still want to go with Lira tomorrow to pick some wildflowers for the house. I think all three of us would appreciate the beauty you bring. The window, I’m afraid, needs to stay shut.”

She stared at me, her silhouette motionless like a petrified rabbit. “Which choice do you wish me to make, my Lord?”

“I’m happy either way, Senna. The choice I would like you to make is the one you want to make.” I smiled, not sure if she could see it, then quietly left her room. Behind me, the window shutter bumped against the wall as she closed it.

I made my way back to the bedroom, slipping into bed next to Lira.

I kept my shorts on.

“Where is she?” Lira asked as she pressed herself against me.

“Count to ten slowly in your head.”

Senna turned up when I’d reached seven.

She walked around the foot of the bed, and I held up the sheet for her. She let her towel drop and climbed in, her nude form pushing up against my side. I let my arm fall around her shoulder, in lieu of anywhere else to put it. She tensed at my touch, her breath catching, but I didn’t move. For a long moment, we lay like that. Then slowly, she began to relax, her muscles unclenching. She even snuggled in a little closer.

We lay awhile in silence, and I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of both girls breathing.

Then Senna began to kiss my shoulder, little tentative pecks. I’d wondered if she would. I still didn’t move.

Lira remained statue-still against my other side; I couldn’t tell if she was watching Senna or had her eyes closed.

Senna’s kisses became bolder, firmer, and moved across my chest. The softness of her breasts rubbed against me, and her hips pressed into the side of mine.

“Do you like kissing him?” Lira whispered.

Senna froze, tensing again. Then I felt her head move against me as she nodded, her lips still in contact with my skin. “Is it alright if I kiss him?”

“Try using your tongue at the same time,” Lira said, by way of answer. “Like this.”

I felt her mouth on the other side of my body, lips, and tongue working together. Hesitantly, Senna copied her, the warmth and wetness of her tongue working across my chest in symphony with Lira’s. I was glad I’d kept my shorts on; I was so fucking hard in that moment. This was almost more painful than taking one of Jarek’s punches.

“Do you like that?” Lira whispered again.

“Does he like it?” Senna whispered back, as though I wasn’t lying in the middle of them, my heart racing.

“I think he’s gone to sleep,” Lira murmured. I knew damn well she knew I hadn’t. But bless her; she really was the most astute person I’d ever met.

“Perhaps he liked it then,” Senna said. She placed another kiss on my shoulder, a slower one.

“Did you like it?” Lira asked again.

“Yes,” Senna said, sounding hesitant. “Yes, I did.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Lira whispered. “It’s my favorite way to kiss, you know. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Senna agreed and once more kissed my shoulder.

Had Lira really just got Senna to admit to enjoying something? My little High Priestess was a fucking genius.

“We should let him sleep now,” Lira said, her task complete.

“Alright,” Senna said. I couldn’t tell if that was relief or disappointment in her tone. Or both.

“We can kiss him again in the morning,” Lira added, and I knew that was entirely for my benefit. Sadistic little minx. I almost gave her another spank before I remembered my role: the man who falls asleep the fastest in the world, oblivious to the naked girl on either side of him.

I wondered how much of my conversation with Senna Lira had overheard. Probably all of it, given the thinness of the walls. But irrespective, she’d played her role to perfection.

Silence descended for a few long breaths. I fought to relax my body, wistfully considering the benefits of cold showers.

“Thank you,” Senna murmured.

“You’re very welcome,” Lira whispered back. “Will you show me the best meadows for wildflowers tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Senna said.

A few more deep breaths.

“Which flowers does he like?” Senna asked.

“Oh, he doesn’t have a clue about flowers. Neither do I, really. Will you choose the best ones for us?”

“I … I can choose the ones I like?”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

My respect for Lira grew with each passing day. I wondered if, just perhaps, some of what I’d said had influenced her. Not to take away from her genius, or her infinite wisdom, for she, too, was a product of this world, yet she could still see the value in helping others and had done so even before I arrived. Hell, I was here for that specific reason.

There couldn’t be a better companion for me.

I wasn’t oblivious to the irony there. She was my companion. It suggested ownership, just like I ‘owned’ Senna.

I’d even referred to them as ‘my girls’ before the collective population of Fernwick. Sure, I’d done it to send a message to any other possible Jareks in the crowd, but no one had objected. Least of all them.

Would I change this world before it changed me? Or had it already had its effect?

We lay quietly a while longer until the gentle rhythm of Senna’s breathing told me that she’d at last fallen asleep, still snuggled beneath my arm. Lira sensed it too, for her hand slid stealthily over my hip, then a single fingernail ran down the length of my cock, where it lay against my stomach as hard as iron. I jerked at the touch, and she muffled her giggle by pressing her mouth against my shoulder.

I’d have my revenge.

Willpower has gained a rank. Willpower is now level 9.

Lira and both my arms fell asleep a long time before I did.

Chapter 28

Forge and Flowers

Morning found me lying on my side, wrapped around Lira, with Senna pressed against my back.

I’d shifted in my sleep, but at least I’d rolled to my right. Could’ve been awkward.

Like this whole situation wasn’t awkward enough.

My bruises had gone, and when I touched my eye and my cheek, there was no cut, no pain. Either Senna was a miracle worker or Lira had been awake at some point during the night. I was betting on my High Priestess’ Restoration magic, not some boiled herb concoction.

Lira must’ve sensed I was awake. She pushed her hips back against me and gave a little wiggle. “Good⁠—”

“Shh,” I hissed in her ear. “Senna’s still asleep. Slip out, quiet as a mouse.”

She understood immediately. I grabbed both my shirt and the spare Lira had bought me from the top of the chest of drawers, and we tiptoed downstairs.

“It won’t do her any harm to wake up alone,” I said as I sat at the table, watching Lira as she made tea. She was wearing my other shirt, and it was just long enough to cover her ass. She knew she looked sexy as hell and wasn’t shy about it either—there’d been a lot of not-strictly-necessary bending over, legs kept straight. Trouble, that one.

“I quite agree,” she said, bringing the kettle over from the fire, a thick cloth wrapped around its handle.

She poured the boiling water into the mugs she’d prepared and slid one across the table to me.

“Thank you.” I couldn’t help but sigh. “A nice hot cup of lavender tea is lovely in the mornings, but … damn, I miss coffee.”

“What’s coffee?”

“The epitome of civilization,” I lamented, sighing again for effect.

She gave me one of her looks, which was justified, and I shut up and drank my tea.

Senna appeared soon after the smell of fried bacon had wafted through the house. Impossible to sleep through that. She padded down the stairs, as naked as she’d been all night, with bed hair and still looking sleepy. It was a cute image, and I tried not to stare.

“Good morning,” I said brightly. “Tea?” I made a point of pouring her a cup myself before she even reached the table.

She looked me over in my shirt and shorts, glanced at Lira wearing my shirt, and only then did she cover her nakedness with both arms. “I’m sorry,” she blurted, blushing crimson. “I didn’t realize … I’m not dressed.”

“No matter,” Lira said quickly, peeling off her shirt. “Here, take this. I was about to wash, anyway.”

She handed Senna the shirt and padded back upstairs, giving me one last mischievous wiggle. There was a lot of feminine nudity floating around this morning.

“Have a seat,” I said to Senna, who looked about ready to bolt.

She hesitated, but then pulled the shirt over her head and sat down, clutching her warm mug.

“Bacon should be ready in a couple of minutes, and the bread is still good from yesterday.”

“I woke up, and you’d gone.”

“Oh, we figured you could use a little more sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I should’ve made breakfast.”

“I’ve been making my own breakfast for a decade, Senna. I think I can handle it one more morning.”

She glanced up at me, then quickly looked down, blushing again.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.

“Yes … yes, I did,” she replied, as if the answer surprised her.

“Great. I think Lira was hoping you'd take her out for wildflowers this morning.”

“Don’t you need me here, my Lord?”

“Not today.” I gave her a warm smile. “Actually, I'd like you to spend time with Lira. She’s been stuck with me for the past week and could use some female company. Is that alright?”

“Oh … of course. Yes, certainly.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Senna.”

We said goodbye in the square.

“You girls have fun,” I said, waving them off. I decided against kissing Lira—better not complicate things with Senna. I didn’t want to risk making her feel rejected or pressured.

They headed southeast, toward the meadows Senna had mentioned, and I left them to it. The forge was my next stop, but I couldn’t shake a twinge of unease about leaving them alone after what had happened with Jarek yesterday. He was probably long gone—my threat had been clear, and I’d delivered it both figuratively and literally. Still, there was always another Jarek around the corner in this world.

Lira had the shaman’s staff with her, at least.

Rolf was already hard at work.

“You really should get an apprentice,” I said as I stripped off my jacket and shirt to tend the bellows.

“Don’t need one now you’re here,” he grunted.

“About that. I won’t be hanging around much longer.”

He glanced up at me, but quickly turned his focus back to his work. “Somewhere else to be?”

“Oh, we’ll likely come back from time to time now that we’ve got a house here. But it’s a big world, and I want to see more of it.”

Rolf shrugged. “Never left Fernwick. Born here, live here, likely die here.”

That wasn’t surprising—medieval life often kept people in one place. Still true for some in the modern day, too.

“I’ve got an adventurous spirit,” I said with a grin, then saved my breath for the bellows.

We stopped a couple of hours later, my Endurance up another two points, and then we headed over to John’s ‘Old Cask’ tavern for a beer and some lunch.

“Bjorn sent men off to the mine early this morning,” Rolf told me. “They’ll be back later today.”

“Good,” I said. “I don’t like it when you pay for the drinks every time.”

He shrugged. “Your help on the bellows halved the time it would’ve taken me to finish that breastplate.”

I perked up. “Breastplate?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Didn’t you see?”

I hadn’t. I’d been too busy working the bellows. My low strength really was a hindrance in this world, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Rolf.

It wasn’t like I was scrawny. I never had been, and after a few weeks here, I was leaner and showing more muscle than I had in years. I’d come to accept my low strength score was just one of those things; there was always a limit to how many attribute points one could roll for a new character.

“Is it a commission? Have you sold it yet?”

“It’s a gift,” he said. “For a friend.”

“Cool. How much would it cost for you to make me something like that?”

He chuckled. “I’ve had that breastplate lying around for a few months. But after you solved my little Jarek problem, I figured it was time to finish it off.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Your Jarek problem?”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “Jarek had been petitioning Bjorn to buy my forge.”

My other eyebrow came up to join the first. “Could he do that?”

Rolf shrugged. “Bjorn likes money, and Jarek’s family has too much of it.”

“Is Jarek a blacksmith then?” It would explain his brawn.

“Fuck, no. But try telling that to his tiny little brain.”

I laughed. “Well, glad to help. As far as I’m concerned, he deserved everything he got.”

“No argument there.” Rolf gave me a curious look. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

I’d been anticipating such a question. “I told you I like to travel. And I’m lucky. I pick things up fast.” I took a swig of beer. It wasn’t as good as Senna’s mead. “It was one of the reasons I came looking for you this morning. I want to branch out. Learn some new skills. Know of anywhere I might find a master of their craft?”

It was an idea I’d had late last night. There had to be trainers around somewhere.

“Sorry, no,” Rolf said, shaking his head.

Damn.

“But you could always ask in Taralith,” he added. “It’s a big town a few days north of here.”

That was an idea. “Thanks.” I had another question. “Did you know Drakos’ army has taken over in Norathil?”

“Yeah. News came through a few weeks ago.” Rolf shrugged. “Doesn’t mean much here. We’re too small for them to bother with, and there’s nothing around but forest.”

I nodded, hoping he was right.

“Yep. Should be quieter now Jarek is gone.” He lifted his mug to me in salute.

“That guy yesterday … the one near Jarek before the fight started.”

“Kenwick.” Rolf grimaced. “Nasty piece of work. His wife, Elara, has bruises far too often for my taste.”

I took a slow drink, forcing myself to remember I couldn’t change the world in a single day.

“Saw him head out this morning, though,” Rolf added, “shortly after you arrived at the forge.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Walked past us like he had somewhere to be, heading out of town.”

I was on my feet. “Which direction?” I already knew the answer.

Rolf looked up at me. “Southeast,” he said. “Why?”

But I was already running for the door.

How could I have been so fucking stupid? That asshole Kenwick had been watching the girls yesterday. I knew anyone who could call Jarek a friend was a snake, and yet I’d sent them off alone.

My rapier was back at the house. I didn’t even have a dagger. Another fucking oversight. Would Kenwick likely be armed? Of course he would. A weapon was all he needed to threaten the girls.

I ran down the road out of town, the sun high on my right. How far were the meadows? Kenwick had at least a two-hour head start. Fuck, fuck, and fuck.

I’d kill that bastard if he’d touched the girls. If he’d even crossed their paths with anything beyond a cheery ‘Hello and good morning,’ I was going to rip his fucking balls off.

This was my fault. I’d sent them off alone, even after I’d seen the way he’d looked at them yesterday. At me, too, like he couldn’t wait for a dark night and an exposed back.

If he’d gone after the girls, it would hurt me a damn sight more than being stabbed by him. I was immortal. They were not. It was no great leap to imagine Jarek’s final words before he left town being instructions for Kenwick to get revenge.

Sick in my stomach, I ran faster, racing past fields. I didn’t even know where the meadows were. Probably beyond the farmland. I’d cut across country as soon as the fields stopped.

Then I skidded to a halt.

Lira and Senna were walking toward me, down the road, their arms full of wildflowers. Lira was talking, and Senna … Senna was smiling as she listened.

She was so beautiful when she smiled.

They looked up and saw me. “Hello, Kaelan,” Lira said as they approached. “Out for a run?”

I was breathing too hard to answer. “Are … you …”

“I think he’s been running, Senna. Don’t you?”

Senna looked between us, wide-eyed.

“We picked some wildflowers,” Lira said, lifting her bouquet for emphasis. “Quite hungry now. I was taking Senna for some lunch. Come on, Senna.” She walked past me. Senna glanced anxiously at me, then hurried to catch her up.

“Did … anything …?”

“Oh, a man came by to help me try out my new staff, which was very kind of him,” Lira said over her shoulder. “I gathered from his intentions that he was a friend of Jarek’s.”

Senna goggled at her.

“What—”

“We left him in the meadow.” Lira lifted the staff I’d given her. “It works well. Thank you for it.”

“But what about Senna!” I blurted, finally catching enough breath.

Lira stopped, turning toward me. “She chose just the right wildflowers for the house. Didn’t she do well?”

“I did my best,” Senna muttered.

“And your best was wonderful. Which part did you like more, finding these beautiful meadow clary or watching me practice with my staff?”

Senna considered for a moment. “Finding the clary, I think, ma’am. Though it was fun watching you practice with your staff.”

Fun. She’d just said it was fun.

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Lira smiled at me. “Have you already eaten, Kaelan? We’d love for you to join us if you haven’t.”

She turned, tugging Senna along with her. “Come on. He can make up his own mind, but we need to get these into some water, and I’ve worked up such an appetite. Haven’t you?”

I stood in the middle of the road, gaping as they walked away, arm in arm.

Then I shook my head and laughed.

She was a fucking perfect companion, my brave High Priestess tigress. Claws and teeth to match.

Guess I didn’t have to worry about Kenwick anymore.

I strolled after the girls, in no rush to catch up.

It was a beautiful day. Peaceful, too.

Chapter 29

Dinner and Dessert

The girls spent the afternoon upstairs, giggling together in the bathroom.

I’d been given a mug of mead, a seat by the hearth, and instructions to remain below. Lira’s words, obviously.

I had no idea what they were up to, but for once, that didn’t bother me. Senna’s laughter, free and unguarded, was a pleasure to hear—a victory in itself.

They reemerged shortly before dinner, Lira looking suspiciously mischievous and Senna blushing, but smiling. Actual smiles.

It didn’t tick off my to-do box; Lira had been the source, not me. I still wanted to see if I could get her to smile. Given her experience with men to date, that would be real progress.

“Shall we eat out this evening?” I asked when they came downstairs. “John does good food at the Old Cask.”

“That sounds like fun,” Lira said. “Is there an occasion?”

“Not particularly. I thought it might be nice. Besides, I’m thinking we’ll leave for Taralith tomorrow. I want to make some inquiries up there.”

Senna took on her deer-in-the-headlights expression before her head ducked down, and she gripped the edge of her tunic, knuckles white.

I figured I knew what had triggered that reaction. “I meant you, too,” I said to her. Her head came up again, hope in her eyes. “I was rather hoping you’d come with us. There’ll be much to see, a town to explore. What do you think—fancy an adventure?” Then, not wanting to pressure her, I added, “If you’d rather stay here, I can ask Rolf to keep an eye on you. He’s trustworthy. He’ll make sure you’re safe.”

She was shaking her head before I finished speaking. “No, I’d like to come, please. If I may. I … I don’t want to stay behind.”

“You will always have a place with us,” Lira murmured, her voice soft yet steady and reassuring. Senna’s eyes shimmered with gratitude.

“I couldn’t imagine better company than traveling with the two most beautiful women in the land,” I said, flashing a grin. But underneath, I was serious—the thought of leaving one of them behind didn’t appeal. They were my companions now, and I was responsible for their safety.

“We’ll need another horse,” Lira pointed out.

“Yes, or maybe two more. Can you ride, Senna?”

“No, my Lord … Kaelan. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Would you like to learn?”

Her nod was tentative, but there was something close to excitement in her expression. She gave a second nod, more emphatic than the first. “Yes, I would.”

By her standards, that was effusive enthusiasm. “Great. I’m sure we’ll all be experts by the time we reach Taralith,” I said, trying to sound confident. In reality, I had no points in Riding, and I’d only ridden a few times back on Earth. I hoped some of it translated; otherwise, we’d both be dependent on Lira to show us the ropes.

We headed out, the evening mild and pleasant, and made our way to John’s tavern. I called in on Rolf to ask if he wanted to join us.

“Why not?” the big man said, swapping his hammer for his shirt. “That breastplate is ready,” he told me as we walked over to the Old Cask. “I’ll polish it up pretty.”

“Shiny isn’t my style,” I said. “Can you leave it matte?”

He looked affronted. “Matte? You don’t leave a breastplate matte.”

I grimaced, trying to find a way of explaining without offending my friend.

But he seemed to know. “You want something subtler? Stealthier?”

“Exactly that,” I said, glad he’d understood.

He nodded. “I’ll blue it then. It’ll look blue-black, and won’t catch the light.”

“Perfect.” Sounded awesome, and I couldn’t wait to see it.

“It’ll take me a little time. You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“That was the plan. How’d you guess?”

“After our talk earlier, I figured you weren’t one to stick around.”

“We’ll be back this way, eventually.” Probably.

He nodded. “I’ll get it done tonight. And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your house while you’re gone.”

“You’re a good man, Rolf.”

Dinner was nearly finished when Bjorn walked into the tavern with another fellow beside him. He spotted us and made a beeline for our table.

“Rolf, Kaelan.” He nodded, then met my gaze. “The men are back from the mine. Henrik here led the group.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few of the other villagers leaning in, clearly eavesdropping.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Mine’s empty, save for a whole heap of bodies and hell’s own stench.” Henrik grinned. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

I smiled. “It did smell pretty bad, you’re right. Sorry, I wasn’t asked to clean it out.”

“Twenty-seven dead gobbos,” Henrik said.

“One of them a shaman,” Rolf added helpfully.

“Aye. One of them a shaman.”

“One hundred and thirty-five gold pieces,” Rolf said, with a pointed look at Bjorn, “plus, the bonus for the shaman.”

But Bjorn seemed to be in a good mood. He pulled a pouch from his belt and dropped it on the table with a satisfying clink. “Here’s a hundred and fifty, Kaelan, and we’re all grateful to have our mine back.”

A chorus of ‘Ayes!’ echoed about the tavern.

Congratulations! Quest: Fernwick Mine has been completed.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 8. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills. You have gained a Perk. You have gained an Attribute point.

I grinned. “Thank you, Bjorn. Glad I could help.”

The pouch felt heavy in my hand, but I knew most of it was already spoken for—repaying Lira for what she’d spent on my gear. Still, we’d need horses and provisions, which meant I might need to hold off on settling that debt. Easy come, easy go.

Bjorn and Henrik moved off to sit with some others, and Lira leaned in against my shoulder.

Rolf gave Lira a brief, knowing glance, then pushed back his chair. “Time I was heading home. Got that breastplate to finish.” He drained the last of his beer, then slammed the tankard back on the table. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Rolf.”

He grunted in response and wandered off.

Lira shifted closer, pressing her breasts to my arm. “Bedtime?” she murmured. “If we’re going to be on the road for a few days, we should make the most of it while we can.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?” The sun hadn’t even fully set.

“Oh, I didn’t mean we should sleep,” she said, her breath warm against my skin.

I glanced across the table at Senna, who was watching us. “What about Senna?” I whispered, uncomfortable knowing she could likely hear.

“It was her idea,” Lira murmured, then licked my ear.

I looked at Senna in surprise, her blush deepening as her gaze met mine. For the first time, she didn’t shy away. There was something different in her eyes—something that went beyond her usual fear or reticence. An unspoken shift, solid and undeniable, and I was pleased to see it.

I lay naked on my bed, listening to the faint sounds from the bathroom where the girls were still talking.

Despite Lira’s assertion that it was Senna’s idea, I suspected this was being driven by Lira. I hoped my High Priestess knew what she was doing. The last thing I wanted was for tonight to add to Senna’s trauma. Yet the girl had held my gaze at the table, and there’d been a new confidence in her eyes. Maybe she was on board, too.

That was one thought on my mind.

The other was that two of the most beautiful women I’d ever met were about to walk into my bedroom.

Their footsteps pattered down the hallway.

I’d expected Lira to walk in first, but it was Senna who led through the door. Her chin was raised, her eyes seeking mine with a flicker of defiance, almost as if she were daring me to reject her. She was entirely nude. Her body was slender, every curve subtle yet perfect. Her breasts were smaller than Lira’s, the curve of her hips less pronounced. But her waist was tiny, her skin flawless perfection, and …

I stared.

Lira came to stand beside her, and I turned my gaze to her, running my eyes over her nakedness and then up to her face. “How did you…?”

She smiled knowingly. “You gave me the idea. I hadn’t even known such a thing was done, but when I saw yours …” her eyes flicked to my groin, to the manscaping I practiced back on Earth. It had since grown out a bit, but was still short.

“So that’s why you had scissors!”

She giggled. “Mmm hmm.”

“But … but now you’re both bare!”

“Do you like it?” Senna asked, her blush deepening as she kept her chin defiantly raised.

“Like it?” I said in wonder. “I love it!”

“Told you he would,” Lira said, nudging Senna with her elbow.

Senna gave me a smile—the one I’d been waiting for. It was hesitant, but genuine, a fragile yet beautiful thing.

“But how? There’re no razor blades in this world!”

Lira gave a mock shudder. “I don’t think I’d have used one if there had been. A razor blade, there?”

“What’s a razor blade?” Senna asked.

“Like a shaving knife, apparently,” Lira said.

Senna shook her head. “No, thank you. No, thank you very much.”

“Will someone please tell me how?”

“Tweezers,” Lira said simply. “Senna has a pair, and when I saw them …”

“So that’s what the two of you were doing this afternoon.” Amidst all that giggling. I wondered if they’d helped each other or done it themselves. Visions that stirred the soul.

“We wanted to wait a few hours before we showed you,” Lira explained. “You know, so it wouldn’t be too sensitive.”

“Is it sore?” I asked, concern mingling with curiosity.

“Not anymore,” Lira answered, her smile teasing. “Feels nice, actually. Would you like to touch?”

I pushed myself up in the bed and leaned back against the wall. “I would absolutely love to touch, but …” I cleared my throat. “Senna, I want you to know there’s no obligation. No expectation. It won’t change anything—you’re still welcome to come with us or to stay behind—whatever you want.”

“Told you,” Lira said, cutting me off with a smirk.

And Senna smiled again, this time a little more confidently.

“May I speak?” she asked.

“Just speak, girlie,” Lira stage-whispered. “Don’t ask him that.”

Senna drew a steadying breath, her hands clasped tightly before her. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Kaelan. I do want to. I’ve wanted to since I saw you and Lira together. You were so happy, and it made me wish for something similar. If … if I could find it.” Her voice trembled slightly as she continued. “And I wanted to when you stood up for me … when you told me I was safe, that nothing would happen to me.”

She paused, swallowing hard before the words tumbled out faster. “Then Jarek came, and I knew he’d hurt you, that he’d take me from you. But you didn’t let him. You beat him, and the way you did it—everyone knew after that. Everyone knew we would be safe.”

She glanced at Lira. “Well, I would be safe. Lira can look after herself.”

“So can you,” I said, my voice firm. “We’ll teach you how.”

Lira nodded. “Yes, what a great idea!”

“I’m still speaking,” Senna said, her voice unexpectedly sharp. I blinked, surprised by the tone, barely holding back my grin. It was so unlike her—yet somehow perfect.

“Sorry,” Lira muttered, winking at me.

“Last night,” Senna continued, her voice quieter now, “you came to my room. You told me I could choose. Not just that I could, but that I should choose what I wanted.” She shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and wonder. “No one’s ever told me to choose what I wanted before.” She gave a small, sardonic laugh. “I wasn’t even sure I could remember how, at first.”

She paused, collecting herself. “But I know what I want now. I want to be with you—with both of you. I want to feel happy … like you’re happy … like I’ve been happy today. Like I did last night when I …”

Her cheeks tinged pink, a small spot of color high on her cheekbones. “We kissed you, Kaelan. While you were sleeping. I … I’ve never done that before. There’re lots of things I’ve never done before.”

She hesitated, glancing at Lira, her blush growing darker. I could well imagine what Lira had told her—probably that very afternoon, amidst the giggles. Senna was no virgin, but neither had her sham of a marriage been filled with love, desire, fulfillment, or passion. Her curiosity was almost innocent, and I found that as sexy as fuck.

Senna turned back to me, her eyes lowered demurely. “For the first time, I find myself wanting … more. Would it be alright if I …” She trailed off, shaking her head in irritation at herself. Then she took a breath and tried again, her voice firmer. “What I mean is, I want to do everything … with you. With both of you.”

Beside her, Lira was looking as smug as a kitten with a saucer of cream.

Senna lifted her gaze to meet mine, her eyes open and vulnerable. “Would that be alright?”

How could I resist a request like that?

I reached my hand out to her.

Chapter 30

Senna and Smiles

“Come here,” I said to Senna.

If this was what she wanted, I’d do the best I could to make her smile again. And whimper, moan, and cry out.

She put one knee on the edge of the bed and crawled on, her nervousness matched with steady determination. Lira had said she’d seen her resilience, and I’d seen it on her info sheet. That she could bounce back so soon after the way she’d been treated by Jarek showed just how strong she was.

She knelt beside me, her movements hesitant but deliberate. I cupped the side of her neck, drawing her closer, and kissed her gently, slowly, giving her time to settle into the moment. Her lips were soft, her eyes closed. I teased her with the tip of my tongue, and she opened to me.

Senna cupped my cheeks in her hands, leaning into the kiss, her small breasts brushing against my chest. I let her drive the pace, my other hand coming to rest lightly on her hip. She shivered at my touch, but when I went to pull my hand back, she clasped my wrist, faster than I’d expected. She lifted my hand, pressing it directly to one firm breast, the nipple beneath my palm, then she pushed into me and kissed me again.

“Just like that,” Lira whispered. “You two are so beautiful together.”

Senna made no reply, but as she pulled away, the corners of her mouth were curled in a little self-satisfied smile.

"Kaelan … could you please lie down for me?" she asked with a tinge of anticipation and a hint of uncertainty.

I sank bed into the bed as Lira walked around to climb up on my left, both girls mirroring the position they’d had during the night. Then I closed my eyes as their mouths explored my body, lips and tongues on my shoulders and my chest. I gave a small sigh, relaxing beneath their touch into the gentle sensuality of the experience.

One tongue was making its way lower, and I didn’t need to open my eyes to know whose it was. Lira took me into her mouth, and I let a small moan slip out. Senna was still kissing my body, and I lost myself in the combined sensations.

Then I felt Senna kneel back, the bed shifting beneath her, her lips leaving me. Lira took me deeper, then slowly slid back up, swirling her tongue over me.

“May I try?” Senna asked, her voice soft but determined. My body responded instinctively to the question. A pulse of anticipation.

Lira slipped her mouth from me. “Of course.”

“Will he mind?”

“If he minds, he’ll tell you.”

I made a low hum in my throat, smiling slightly, my eyes still closed.

“I don’t think he minds,” Lira giggled.

“What do I do?” Senna asked.

“It’s easy. You just kiss him. He’ll like it if you use your mouth and tongue like I showed you, and he’ll like it even more if you take him into your mouth.”

“I don’t think I can take him as deep as you do.” She sounded unsure. “He’s very big.”

I let Lira respond to that one, basking in the reflection of a well-stroked ego.

“Don’t worry about that. Just do what you’re comfortable with. He’ll also like it if you put your hand around the base of him, like this.”

Fingers wrapped around me, squeezing firmly.

Then the hand slipped away to be replaced by another. A mouth slid over me, warm and wet, a tongue lapping tentatively like a cat tasting cream.

I gave another little sigh.

Senna froze when she heard it, her body tensing for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, she pushed past the hesitation and continued, her enthusiasm growing with each second and each lick. Growing bolder, she pushed down onto me until I bumped against the back of her throat.

She pulled up quickly, giving a little cough. “Sorry.”

“You know what works well?” Lira said.

“Please tell me?”

“Practice.”

I couldn’t agree more. Senna seemed to think so too, because again her mouth came over me. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell it was her; she was less experienced than Lira, her mouth felt different, her licking more a flick of her tongue than the swirls Lira knew I liked. But with each passing minute, she grew in confidence, taking me deeper, her tongue more active. I gave another moan of encouragement, and it was easy.

She didn’t even freeze, pushing down farther than she had before. It was too far for her; she pulled up, coughing again. “Sorry.”

Lira smiled, her voice gentle. “You're doing wonderfully. No need to apologize. Want to bet he’s loving every second?”

“I’ll come if you carry on doing this,” I murmured.

“In my mouth?” Senna asked, consternation in her tone.

“That is the point,” Lira said. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. We could swap.”

“Um. I’m not ready to give up just yet.”

My cock twitched at her words, and both girls must’ve noticed.

“That means he’s happy for you to carry on,” Lira said.

“What if he … comes?”

“Well, then you can take your mouth off and let me taste him, or you can taste him yourself.”

“Alright.”

Her mouth slipped over me again.

“He tastes delicious,” Lira murmured as Senna took me deeper. “Thick, creamy, and salty. I love it.”

"Mmm," Senna hummed her agreement, the vibrations making my breath catch. My hips bucked involuntarily, and her mouth slipped off me. "Did I do something wrong?"

Lira answered, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Absolutely nothing. That meant everything you were doing was right.”

“Oh.” Again her mouth returned, the cute interruptions a delicious torture.

“Do you want me to help you make him come?” Lira asked. “If you do, say ‘Mmm hmm’.”

“Mmm hmm.” The vibrations of her answer made my cock twitch again, deep in the wet warmth of her mouth.

Then I felt Lira move on the bed, and her tongue was between my legs, licking at my balls.

“Fuck,” I gasped, my hips twitching again. My hands clenched in the sheets as I fought not to buck against Senna’s mouth.

Lira licked more firmly, her head brushing against my thighs. It was a battle to keep still, and then my back arched as my climax arrived.

“Oh!” Senna said, pulling off me in surprise. But then her mouth returned, and I came inside it, her tongue licking all the while.

I felt her swallow, then she licked me, again and again, eagerly, and I twitched, my body tensing.

“Be gentler now,” Lira murmured. “He’ll be sensitive.”

Senna gave me a longer, slower lick than before, her tongue swirling more like the technique Lira used. I gasped at the pleasure of it, sinking back into the softness of the bed.

“I think he liked that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Senna said, then placed a kiss on my tip.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.” Another kiss.

“How did he taste?”

“Just like you said,” Senna murmured. “And …”

I could imagine her blushing, but stayed quiet and kept my eyes closed.

“Yes?”

“…I liked the way it spurted into my mouth.”

Lira gave a little giggle. “I like that, too.”

“Can I lick him there?”

“Sure.”

I wondered where ‘there’ was, but a moment later, Senna’s tongue lapped softly at my balls. Then Lira’s mouth descended over me, and I groaned again.

I opened my eyes, looking down my body to see Lira watching me, my cock in her mouth. Senna was kneeling on the bed, her head between my legs, her ass high in the air.

That was a sight I couldn’t resist.

Lira watched as I lifted one hand, caressing Senna’s bottom. She winked at me, rising up me to give the tip of me a kiss and a lick, then sank down again. Fuck, I was still hard. How could I not be, with these two beauties in the bed with me, their mouths still on my body?

Senna squirmed beneath my touch but didn’t miss a beat in her licking. I took that as implicit encouragement and ran a fingertip down between her cheeks. She gasped, the sound muffled as she pressed her mouth to my inner thigh, but her ass lifted higher, pushing back toward my hand.

Lira slipped her mouth from me. “Do you want more?”

“You know I do.” Oh, she knew. I wasn’t sure how she could read me so well, but she knew.

“Which one of us would you like to play with?” She may have asked openly, but she gave a subtle nod in the direction of Senna’s nude form. Like she was giving permission or suggesting Senna needed the affirmation. Or both.

Senna’s head had come up as she’d heard Lira’s words, her wide-eyed look returning. “Oh, I don’t want to get in the way,” she said, kneeling back on her heels. “You and Lira should do … um … won’t I get between you?”

“Mmm,” I said, thoughtfully. “There’s an idea.”

Lira grinned, giving me a lick. Again, I was sure she knew I’d been half-teasing, but the mischievousness glinting in her eye meant that Senna was in trouble. And she didn’t even know it yet.

“What’s an idea?” Senna asked, her voice breathless.

“Your suggestion that you should get between us,” Lira answered, somehow managing an air of innocence. “I think we both like it.”

“What?” Senna squeaked. “That wasn’t what I meant!”

I chuckled. “We’re teasing you.” I gave her thigh a gentle pat. “Still, I reserve the right to raincheck that suggestion for another time.”

Senna gave a small eep, her blush so deep it ran down her throat and tinged the tops of her breasts.

I couldn’t resist. I sat up, reaching for her, and pulled her to me. “Can’t you just imagine it?” I murmured to her, knowing Lira could hear. “Lying on me, like this, while Lira presses her body into you.”

“Or being on top of me, while Kaelan fucks you from behind.” There was Lira’s kinky side coming out to play. No objections from here.

Senna gave a full-on body shudder against me, whimpering at Lira’s words. But she made no attempt to pull away.

“I think she liked that idea better.”

“Fuck, now that I’ve said it, so do I,” Lira said. “Why should we wait? It might be ages until we have a decent bed again.”

Senna squirmed against me, her arousal evident in the shortness of her breathing.

I rolled her off me, sitting up, and Lira pulled back. She was grinning again, her eyes sparkling.

“Center of the bed, please, Lira.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she said, deliberately using Senna’s term of address. I took a swipe at her ass as she climbed onto the bed, and she gasped at the spank, then wiggled it for me. I chuckled, standing up as I waited for Lira to get comfortable. When I turned around, she was already getting into position: on her back, her feet toward the wall, and her head almost at the edge. I knew exactly what she had in mind, and it was as hot as fuck. I wondered if Senna had figured it out, too.

“Senna?” Lira held out a hand to her.

“You … you want me on top of you?”

“Yes, please. I want to feel your body against mine and hold you while Kaelan fucks you.” She smiled. “If you want to.”

Senna swallowed, the sound loud enough to hear clearly.

“And if you don’t want to,” I said, “We can all cuddle in a pile until we fall asleep.”

“Sounds fun, too,” Lira said.

“I … I want to,” Senna whispered. “Will you hold me tightly?”

Lira smiled, proffering her hand again. “Baby, I’m going to hold you so tight you won’t be able to move.”

She’d called Senna ‘baby’. I liked that. It suited them.

Senna took her hand, crawling over Lira. It was a view to appreciate.

“Not that way around,” Lira whispered. Senna had orientated herself with her head the same way Lira had.

“What?” Another little squeak. It was endearing.

“Turn around for me, please. Head the other way, ass this way.”

“But … but … Oh!”

I walked around to the end of the bed, watching as Senna reorientated herself. She lay over Lira, her thighs spread above Lira’s face, her arousal obvious. My High Priestess wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist and held tight, just like she’d promised. Senna’s ass was up in offering, and her body trembled with anticipation.

I figured Lira had this planned from the start, the mischievous little minx. She looked up at me from between Senna’s thighs, and I knew she was asking permission. Not because she needed to be told what to do, but because she wanted me to be okay with it.

“Go on, then,” I murmured. I was sure both of them needed this, and besides, it wasn’t like I had any objections to watching their mutual pleasure.

Lira gave me a smile, then lifted her head between Senna’s thighs. Her tongue came out, her eyes closing, and she licked slowly.

“Oh!” Senna gasped. “Oh … oh … Oh!”

Her hips bucked wildly beneath Lira’s ministrations, and the noises she made were just beyond cute. I watched for a minute, giving Lira a chance to enjoy. Senna’s thighs were quivering, her hips squirming beneath Lira’s tongue. Then her head fell forward, pressed to Lira’s thigh as she gave a little whimper.

“Are you going to help?” Lira asked me softly, before licking again.

“In a moment,” I replied at the same volume. It wasn’t like Senna couldn’t hear us, just that I was pretty sure she wasn’t listening. Lira’s tongue had that effect, I knew from experience.

Besides, I was playing a hunch.

Senna raised her head a fraction, but only to adjust her angle. Then it was Lira’s turn to moan, and I knew she’d finally got what she’d wanted: Senna’s complete and willing engagement. That was what I’d been waiting for.

I dropped to my knees at the end of the bed, one hand gently caressing the side of Lira’s neck. Then I leaned forward and did what I’d wanted to do since the girls showed me the fruits of their afternoon’s labors: I tasted Senna’s arousal and felt the silky smoothness of her bare vulva.

Lira and I lapped at her together, Lira focusing on her clit while I pushed my tongue inside her. Senna’s gasps rose in pitch faster with each lick, until her whole body trembled as her orgasm washed over her, flooding us both with her wetness. We licked her clean while the muscle in one of her toned thighs twitched involuntarily in response to the pleasure she felt. She was just so damn gorgeous. So was Lira, and she looked about as smug and content as I’d ever seen, licking slowly as Senna’s whimpers rose in pitch again.

Which left just one more thing.

I stood up again, sliding my hands over Senna’s ass, then gripping her hip with one hand. I caught sight of Lira beneath her, looking up in adoration as she watched. Then I readied myself at Senna’s entrance.

Activate God power. Because why the hell not? I was more than happy for my girls to benefit from anything my skill points could do to help, and it was hardly like I’d need it for anything else tonight.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

I pushed slowly inside Senna, her head pressing against Lira’s thigh once more. She braced herself, gasping softly, Lira’s arms wrapped around her waist, and another shudder of pleasure wracked her body.

I took my time, giving Senna the chance to adjust to me. I was watchful for her muscles tensing, her fight-or-flight response kicking in as past traumas reared their ugly heads. But there was nothing like that … she moaned into Lira’s thigh and pushed her hips back toward me.

It was the best response I could’ve hoped for.

Yet still I moved gently, my hips rocking back and forth at a sedate, controlled pace. I caught glimpses of Lira beneath us, smiling as she watched. Then Senna gave a little cry, another higher one following immediately after, and it was the confirmation we’d been waiting for.

Lira’s head rose, her tongue licking again, and I gripped Senna’s hips with both my hands. I began to thrust, still initially cautious, but with each move I made, her cries rose higher, and her hips rocked back against me. It was mere seconds before we found a rhythm, and I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensations and the slick feel of her.

For a while, the three of us moved as one. Then I felt my cock gripped even more tightly by Senna’s body, and I knew she was once again close to her release. Beneath her, Lira was licking with long, deliberate strokes of her tongue, tasting me as much as she was Senna. It added an extra dimension to the pleasure for all of us, and I felt my own orgasm accelerate toward its peak.

Senna pressed her head into Lira’s thigh, her high-pitched cries muffled, and she squeezed me as her body tightened. My movements became shorter, faster, and more urgent, then my body tensed as my cock seemed to swell within the depths of her. I drove forward, pulling her back against me until my hips were pressed hard against her shapely ass, and I came inside her.

Lira’s tongue lapped against my balls, the sensation driving my orgasm to even greater heights, and it was all I could to brace myself on trembling legs.

Senna gave another helpless little gasp, and her body quivered again beneath my hands.

I fell forward, spent, catching myself with one hand on the bed next to their bodies. From there, I let myself slip from within her, then half-climbed and half-fell to my back beside them.

My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, so it was several seconds before I realized the sounds I was hearing were Lira licking still. Senna trembled above her with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm, helped by the cleanup Lira was performing.

We’d probably get around to that cuddle pile when we could move again, but if Senna felt anything like I did, it would be a while.

“My gosh,” Senna gasped, somehow finding her voice. “I think I may have discovered what happiness is.”

I gave a chuckle, hearing Lira echoing it.

So, all was right between us.

Sex (women) has gained 6 ranks.

Oh yeah. I’d been too busy to notice the ‘deactivated’ message when it had come up—or perhaps, for the first time, the messages had chosen not to interrupt until the opportune moment.

Nah. That wasn’t likely. I’d probably just missed the notification.

I smiled to myself, wondering if the girls would notice any difference the next time we did this.

For there was definitely going to be a next time.

And it would be Lira’s turn in the middle.

Chapter 31

Armor and Ambush

“Don’t stay away too long,” Rolf said as we clasped arms.

“You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

“Look after this,” he said, thumping me in the center of my new breastplate, knocking me back a pace.

I wasn’t sure if he meant my body or his gift; he was proud of his work, so probably the latter. The breastplate was an exceptional demonstration of his skill, high-quality tempered steel meticulously crafted to curve around my chest, providing decent durability while remaining relatively lightweight. It had some slight fluting on the surface to turn incoming blows, and the lower half was articulated where it covered my abdomen to allow for full movement.

It meant I’d had to lose the pauldron I’d taken from the goblins, but the trade-up was more than worth it.

Rolf had blued the armor for me, just like he’d said, staying up much of the night to heat-treat it until the surface was a blue-black. Wearing it still meant a minus-two penalty to my stealth, but it was a tradeoff I was happy to make for the greater protection. It would’ve been far worse with a mirror finish, and besides, the darker color looked as cool as fuck. So cool that I didn’t even point out that it was, in fact, a matte finish.

I swung up onto my horse. Lira and Senna were already mounted and waiting.

Rolf had also helped me trade the goblin equipment we’d brought back for horses, acting as the middleman. He’d been overly generous—I was sure most of the armor and weapons would just be melted down—but it meant I didn’t need to dip into the gold from Bjorn. We’d bought a mare from a farmer named Thalor, who also had a spare pony for Senna. Neither animal was as fine as Lira’s, but options were limited in Fernwick. We could always trade them out once we reached Taralith.

Fernwick also lacked a general store, which meant we were light on equipment. We’d packed spare clothes and blankets, rolled and strapped behind our saddles, but I wasn’t too concerned. The warm weather had held, and sleeping under the stars would be no great hardship.

“Stay safe,” I said to Rolf as I turned my horse toward the road north out of the village.

“Don’t worry about us,” Rolf rumbled. “Nothing exciting will happen until you get back.” He gave me a grin.

I nodded to Bjorn, who was sitting outside his house watching, and kicked my mare into a trot. Lira followed, helping guide Senna’s pony until the girl got the hang of riding. I figured a few days in the saddle would see us all sore, but far more proficient. No better way to learn than by doing.

Senna had never been to Taralith, though she roughly knew the way. Directions were basically to head north until we encountered a little hamlet called Heathercrest, then turn northwest. Three days to the hamlet and another day beyond, and we should be there.

The road was wide enough for a cart, but not for three horses abreast. I was content to take the lead for the first leg, then once we’d stopped for lunch, Senna and I followed Lira.

We’d sought comfort in our joint misery for so long that Lira had pulled farther ahead so that she didn’t have to listen to us. She wasn’t suffering as we were, but then she’d ridden far more than either of us.

“My ass hurts,” Senna complained, come mid-afternoon.

“I know how you feel.” My thighs were sore, and my back ached. But at least I’d unlocked Riding, and it was already up to rank 3. “Beats walking though, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not convinced. My feet are tougher than my ass.”

“For that, I’ll be forever thankful.”

She blushed, then gave me a smile. Damn, but I loved making her smile.

The road wound gently through trees on either side, tall pines and ancient oaks, yellow gorse, and thick droves of ferns. It was a dense forest full of life, squirrels in abundance, foxes and birds of all types. We were surrounded by the noises of nature, and it was relaxing.

“This stupid pony stumbles all the time,” Senna said. “Do I really have to steer it around every stone?”

She was half-joking, and it was nice to hear her express herself, her personality slowly beginning to shine through. While the timid, nervous girl hid just below the surface, a new Senna was gradually appearing, and I liked what I saw.

“Do you think they’ll have dress shops in Taralith?” she asked.

“I expect so. Rolf said it was the largest town in these parts.”

“Good. This shift is wearing thin, and Lira’s clothes are much more attractive.”

I raised an eyebrow. Lira’s choices today were also far more revealing, her simple shirt showing an alluring amount of cleavage and stopping short of her trousers to leave a strip of toned midriff. I’d have thought Senna would lean toward something more conservative, but perhaps I’d underestimated her newfound sense of identity. Her resilience was shining through.

“We can go shopping when we arrive.” Rolf had given me more for the goblin equipment than the cost of the horses, despite my protests. Plus, I had the gold from Bjorn. There was the matter of paying Lira back, but for now, we’d pooled our resources.

Ahead, the road narrowed, sunlight dappling through the trees. The hairs on my neck rose.

“Kaelan?”

“Hmm?”

“I said, would you come with me?”

“Oh. Yes, of course I will.”

I frowned as I stared into the thick undergrowth near us. Everything was peaceful, the forest unchanged. So why was I…?

It was silent. All the sounds of the forest had faded away.

Perception has gained a rank. Perception is now level 10.

“Lira!” I yelled, drawing my rapier.

Two men sprang from the trees into her stallion’s path. One man lunged forward, a sword held ready in his hand, grabbing her bridle before she could react. The other was an archer, and he held back a few paces, positioning himself for a clear shot with an arrow already nocked.

Three more appeared behind us, one archer, two swordsmen.

I didn’t wait for them to shoot or make their demands.

“Lie on his neck!” I shouted at Senna, then I struck the hindquarters of her pony with the flat of my blade. The animal squealed, bolting forward. I spared her enough of a glance to see she was clinging on, then leaped from my own animal.

If I’d had enough riding skill, I could’ve wheeled my mare and charged the men behind me. But I knew my limitations; it would’ve earned me an arrow to the head. On foot, they were close enough that I could engage them in a matter of paces.

The men startled but recovered quickly.

“Shoot her horse!”

They weren’t going for Senna, they were going for her mount. They wanted her alive.

Why couldn’t this world leave my girls alone?

The swordsmen fanned out, weapons held ready, confident that it was two against one. A week ago, I’d have been less sure, but I’d cleared out a mine full of goblins since then. It did wonders for one’s confidence.

A scream came from behind me from one of the girls, and the archer crabbed sideways fast, drawing his bow and releasing.

His arrow shot past me, but I didn’t have the time to look. I had to take these bastards down fast, then go to Lira’s aid. She was outnumbered too, and they’d already grabbed her horse.

The bandolier holding my throwing knives was strapped to my thigh, beneath my dagger, Rolf’s breastplate taking up its old slot. I drew and threw in one smooth motion. The blade skimmed past the man’s face, making him flinch, but he didn’t even need to duck. Fuck. And I had spare skill points, a Perk I hadn’t spent, and an Attribute point in hand. Why hadn’t I spent them?

Activate God Power. Another oversight. Fucking idiot, Kaelan! I had to be better in this world with the two girls depending on me.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

One way or another, this would all be over long before the power deactivated.

I leaped forward, following after my thrown blade, the bandit deflecting my lunge with a parry. The other came in from my left, his blade slashing down. It was a clumsy blow, easy to dodge if I’d wanted.

But I’d learned from fighting Jarek.

I stepped into him instead, brushing his blow wide with my forearm, then crunching my elbow into his face. His head snapped back, nose spurting blood, and I swept his leg. He fell, but before he’d even hit the ground, the other man attacked again. I parried, so much faster than he was, and it was a simple matter to riposte and put the point of my rapier through his throat. He staggered back, clutching his neck, and I stabbed the man on the ground.

Three seconds, maybe five, and they were both dead or dying.

The archer stared wide-eyed, then fumbled for another arrow. He was a half-dozen paces away, and I leaped over the man at my feet and charged him. He dropped the arrow, realizing in panic he’d never nock it in time, and reached for his dagger. I ran him through before he even drew it.

I wasn’t even breathing hard.

Damn, but my speed and skill were so much greater than they had been. But then, these bandits were nothing more than simple thugs. They’d been slow to react, poorly equipped, and reliant on superior numbers. It hadn’t done them any good.

Another scream from behind me, and I turned and ran for Lira. Her horse was thirty paces away … but she didn’t need my help. The screams hadn’t been hers.

The man with the bow was already face down on the ground, unmoving, and even as I watched, the swordsman nearest her pinwheeled away, his chest pierced by numerous stone shards.

Lira lowered her staff and kicked her horse into a gallop, having already seen what I had just noticed.

Senna’s pony was disappearing down the road, with Senna hunched over his neck. An arrow protruded from her back, its shaft sticking up high, the fletching swaying with the motion of her ride.

“Senna …” I gasped. “… No …”

Lira galloped after her, quickly gaining ground and leaving me behind.

I could only watch as she caught up, leaning to grab the reins and slow the pony’s wild dash. Senna slumped in her saddle, beginning to slip as the mount skittered to a halt, but Lira was right beside her, supporting her. Lira pulled the arrow out, throwing it to the ground, and her hands glowed green with Restoration magic.

Could Lira even heal a wound like that? It must have punctured a lung, at the very least.

Had I needed to get Senna out of the way? I’d thought I was keeping her safe, but if she’d been nearer, that incompetent archer would’ve hit her pony instead of her.

I ran to my horse, grabbed the reins, and pulled myself into the saddle, kicking the mare before my feet were even in the stirrups. She sprang ahead, racing down the road, and in seconds, I was pulling up beside Lira.

Senna lay half across Lira’s lap, the back of her shift stained with blood.

And her face … her face was so pale.

Chapter 32

Brooding and Blood

I didn’t dare speak for fear of distracting Lira.

She had her eyes closed, her lips pressed thin, fierce concentration in her features.

A minute passed. Another.

She began to sway in her saddle, energy still pouring from her hands and into Senna.

I slipped from my mare, ready to catch her if she fell. Ready to catch Senna, too, who lay half across her lap, slumped between her pony and Lira’s horse.

There was nothing to do but wait.

I was a fucking God in this world, but if I couldn’t look after the people who had placed their trust in me—my own companions no less—what use was that?

Lira had summoned me to kill Drakos, expressly to protect her people, and instead we were taking leisurely rides to Taralith while Valorah suffered at his hands.

It wasn’t good enough.

Yes, I had to rank up. And yes, I had to be able to defeat him when I faced him again.

But it was taking too long.

God Power Deactivated.

Riding has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 1 rank.

Unarmed Combat has gained 1 rank.

Not a great use of my power for today. But I suppose the results were significant for the barely thirty seconds of activity I’d done.

Dammit, I had to do better. I hadn’t even spent my new Perk or my Ability point. Six unspent Skill points.

Helpless to do anything while I waited, I pulled up my sheet.

My Sword and Archery skill had ranked up fast. Unarmed Combat had benefited massively from the use of God Power during the fight with Jarek. Speed was high, and Attack and Endurance were doing okay. Rolf’s breastplate gave me plus-four to my Armor Class at the expense of two to my stealth; the vambraces I’d taken from the goblins another one. I’d dispatched those three bandits without breaking a sweat. They’d never stood a chance.

But there was no getting away from it: I was only level 8. Drakos was level 18.

The memory of his sword easily batting mine aside pushed into my mind, and a shiver ran down my spine. I had a long way to go before I could stand up to Drakos, and he sure as hell didn’t have a strength of 11. Would I ever be the warrior he was?

It was tempting to pump it to 12, right now, with the attribute point I had in hand. But making impulsive decisions wasn’t the route to being the best I could be. I had to think about it.

Something I’d been far too lax in doing.

Lira slumped forward, drawing my eye, interrupting my chain of thought.

“Baby?”

“Can’t do … anymore.” It was a breath, not even a whisper.

“It’s alright,” I said, my stomach clenching. “I know you did your best.” I put my hands on her hips, supporting her.

“She …” Lira was barely able to speak, her fatigue obvious. I had to lean forward to catch her words. “She …”

I waited for her to say, ‘… is dead’. My heart had stopped beating, and my stomach was heavy and tight, like it had turned to stone. Lira had thrown all of herself into saving Senna, as unwilling to give up as she’d ever been, but it hadn’t been enough.

Her eyes closed, and she fell against me. Senna slipped too, and I grabbed desperately for both of them. I wasn’t going to let Lira fall, but I wasn’t prepared to drop Senna, either. She didn’t deserve to be dumped on the ground, just because she was⁠—

Senna gasped, a sharp and sudden intake of breath, and my own gasp echoed hers. She wasn’t dead! Lira had done it! She’d fucking done it!

The burst of hope and life gave me the strength I needed. I pulled Senna against me, her body slipping off her pony. He didn’t much like the feel of it and walked forward, disgruntled. It allowed Senna’s legs to slide free, her weight falling fully onto me. I set her down, my other arm supporting Lira from her high on her stallion, straining my shoulder.

“Can you stand?” I asked.

Senna slumped against me, eyes still shut, but her chest moved faintly as she breathed. Her legs gave way, and she slid down my body, falling to the road. I couldn’t support her, not with Lira leaning on me.

I left Senna where she lay and lifted Lira off the back of her horse. She was limp and unconscious, but at least she was breathing.

They were both alive. That was all that mattered.

I carried Lira to the side of the road, looking for a place to lay her. There was a ditch to cross, then a small patch of long grass on the other side.

I stepped over the ditch with Lira in my arms, pushing through a small holly bush with her lifted high above its sharp spikes that caught on my trousers. I trampled the grass to give her somewhere to lie and set her gently down.

Then I went back for Senna. I picked her up out of the road, dusting her off as best I could, then carried her to where Lira lay. Senna’s shift was damp against my hand where I held her, soaked and tacky with her blood. How much had she lost? Was she out of danger? Was the wound there, or had Lira healed her fully?

I lay her down next to Lira, then peeled the sticky material away from her skin. Her back was covered in blood … but her skin beneath was smooth and whole. There wasn’t even a wound—at least, not externally. Whether Lira had healed the damage inside, I had no way to tell, but Senna was breathing. Shallow, delicate breaths, yet with no rattle or wheeze that might indicate a damaged lung.

My two girls lay in the grass, side by side. They could’ve been just sleeping.

There was nothing to do but wait for them to regain consciousness.

I went and gathered the horses, tying them to a tree near where the girls lay. Then I frisked the men, as much to try to glean some clue as to their identity. But they had nothing, only a few coins between them. Their weapons were ill-made, their clothing that of peasants. They were nothing more than those who had chosen a life of banditry, for whatever reason. It had cost them their lives, but it had almost cost Senna her life, and for that, for coming so close to killing a girl so innocent and blameless, they deserved their fate.

I rolled their bodies to the side of the road and left them for the animals to deal with, returning to the girls.

Lira was awake, holding Senna close with her head cradled on her shoulder. When she saw me, she gave me a tremulous smile. “I did it,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I could, but I did.”

“You were amazing. You gave everything you had. You saved her.”

Her smile strengthened, then her arms pulled Senna in more tightly. “Can we rest here?”

“We can rest soon. I don’t want to stop so close to the bodies.”

It would attract animals, but more, it was simply unpleasant. I wanted somewhere nice to stay the night. It was still relatively early, but we would stop as soon as I could find somewhere suitable.

Lira nodded in understanding. “She might be out for a while yet.”

“Well, as soon as you’re ready to ride, we can move on. I’ll ride with her.”

“I feel stronger. I can go now.”

Neither of us wanted to stay near the men who’d attacked us any longer than we had to. “Then let’s go. Do you need help getting on your horse?”

“I think I’ll be alright.”

We laid Senna back down on the grass, then I hovered as Lira stood shakily and made her way back to her stallion. She seemed stronger with each step.

“You’re amazing,” I said to her. “I’m constantly in awe of you.”

She smiled, going up on tiptoe to kiss me. “Do you know what it’s like to hear your god say that to you?”

I didn’t feel much like a god in that moment. I felt like a man, dragged to a world that wasn’t mine, thrown into the path of two girls who deserved more. A man helplessly out of his depth, with tasks and responsibilities greater than he⁠—

She pulled back, looking up with concern. “What is it, Kaelan?”

I took a breath, forcing myself to look down at her. “It’s nothing. A moment of weakness spent wallowing in self-pity.” I took another breath and gave her a smile. It wasn’t my best; it needed more skill points. “Nothing more than that. I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

“I think you’re doing pretty damn well.” She kissed me again, then turned and pulled herself up onto her horse. Without my help.

I mean, damn, her stallion wasn’t exactly small.

I walked back to get Senna, thinking of the marvel that was Lira.

Maybe I didn’t have to shoulder the whole world alone. I wasn’t alone, and with Lira by my side, I was stronger for it. Senna too, for that matter. She was resilient—hell, her Resilience was far higher than mine. Higher than Lira’s, too. Maybe with both of them supporting me, I could do more. Do it better, faster. Whatever I needed.

Still, I was immortal, and they were not. Senna had almost died, and if I lost Lira … it just wasn't worth the risk. I had to do this alone.

I picked Senna up in my arms, grimacing as I felt the blood that had soaked into her shift. Too damn close. We’d only packed one change of clothes, and this shift was ruined. She definitely needed new ones now.

It wasn’t easy getting her onto my horse then climbing up behind her, but we were so keen to leave this place that it was the motivation I needed to get it done.

We headed off down the road, Senna lolling against my chest, my arm tight around her waist.

Lira led Senna’s pony, and neither of us looked back.

Chapter 33

Sticks and Spanking

It might have been only late afternoon, but I wanted somewhere we could stop. We all needed the rest.

The forest pushed in close to the road, and where before it had seemed peaceful, now it didn’t.

But it was still full of life, and when we’d left the bodies far enough behind, I could again hear the birds and see the squirrels playing in the trees.

It was another hour until it thinned enough to offer the possibility of a glade, and I began to search the tree line. It was Lira who spotted it.

“There?” she said, pointing off her side of the road.

There was an open patch a short way into the trees with long grass and wildflowers, ringed in gorse bushes and holly. Several weeping willows stood in a line beyond, suggesting the possibility of water, and once I’d noticed them, I could hear the distant tinkle of a stream.

“Perfect.”

We steered the horses off the road and into the glade. It was pleasant; it had a good feel to it, and slowly I began to relax. The forest floor was dappled with golden, early-evening sunlight, and a gentle breeze stirred the surrounding leaves. We tethered the horses, and Lira unpacked their feed while I dismounted, then lifted Senna off my horse.

“We stopping?” she murmured, and her eyes opened.

“Lira!”

I sank down into the grass, cradling Senna to my chest. Lira came to kneel beside me, and we sat together, smiling as we gazed down at Senna.

She looked up at us, her brow furrowing. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Almost died is what you did. You took an arrow in the back, and Lira saved you.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh gosh, I remember. Oh, it hurt!” She reached out a hand for Lira, clasping hers. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

Lira smiled back, tears in her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Um … I feel fine. A little weak. But fine. Can I stand up?”

I was loath to let her go, but when she pushed herself up, she was unsteady for only a moment. I let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare us like that again, you hear?”

“He means it,” Lira says. “He’ll probably spank you.” She nodded sagely. “He talks about spanking quite often.”

Senna’s eyes widened, glancing at me as she blushed.

“Not as much as you do,” I muttered.

“Scare us like that again, and if he doesn’t spank you, I will,” Lira added.

I looked at Senna, gesturing to Lira with one hand. “See?”

“Oh!” Senna huffed. “I never know when you two are teasing me.”

“If he’s talking about spanking, he’s probably not teasing.”

“I’ve never spanked you once,” I said through gritted teeth as I pushed myself up. “Keep going, though, and I might yet.”

“I think you should,” Senna declared in a clear, strong voice. “I would like to watch.”

We both stared at her in amazement, then she did something she’d only done previously for Lira: she giggled.

“I think she’s teasing us,” Lira said, rising too.

“I think she is.”

“Shouldn’t we spank her if she teases us?”

“I’m going to spank the both of you if you don’t stop soon,” I muttered, walking to my horse to pull out pots, flint and steel, and food.

“I’ve never been spanked,” Senna murmured to Lira. “Is it fun?”

“It is with the right person,” Lira said, fully aware I could hear her.

I gave a mock sigh. “Enough!”

They both giggled.

“Lira, dig out Senna’s spare shift. Let’s get rid of that blood-stained mess.”

Lira started rummaging through the saddlebags on Senna’s pony.

Senna made a face. “I thought something felt yucky and sticky.” She pulled at her clothing.

“Hopefully, there’s enough stream over there for us to wash in,” I said. “I’m going to cook some dinner. I’m hungry.”

A while later, we lay around in the glade, stomachs full of stew and bread. The stream was small but quite deep, running clear and cool, and Senna had bathed and changed to her spare shift. For comfort, I’d pulled my breastplate off and laid it on the grass, and that had seemed such a good idea my leather jacket had quickly followed, pillowed under my head.

It was nice to lie out, staring at the evening sky through the trees, feeling the soft grass beneath my shirt. But I remembered an idea I’d had. Flicking away the piece of grass I’d been chewing on, I roused myself and walked off into the forest.

I didn’t have to go far to find what I was looking for: a couple of sturdy sword-length sticks and a sapling that, once I’d stripped the branches off, became a decent quarterstaff. The girls were watching me curiously.

“Up, up!” I said, walking back to our glade.

They pushed themselves up, and I threw Lira the staff. She caught it, twirled it with a surprising competence, then banged the end down beside her foot. I raised an eyebrow at her.

Senna got one of the sticks, and I kept the other.

“Right then,” I said to Senna. “You’re first. Attack me.”

Her eyes narrowed, then she threw herself at me. Her strikes were wild and easy to parry, but her enthusiasm was fun to watch. “Keep your head up,” I said, dodging around her as she overextended. “You hit with the sword, not your body. If you don’t keep your balance, you lose.”

Senna swiped the stick backhanded toward me, and I blocked it just in front of my face. She spun faster than I expected, attacking me again with gusto. And she kept her head up. “Good!” I said, on the defensive. She was really fast. She jabbed her stick forward, swiped in from the side, and I parried each strike. Then her eyes narrowed, and she slashed it down toward me, her strength behind the blow. But she’d overextended again. I dodged around her as she stumbled forward and thwacked my stick across her ass.

“Ow!” she cried, reaching back to rub it, glaring.

Lira giggled.

I shrugged. “You got frustrated and overextended.”

She spun again, coming in faster still, her jaw set with determination. “This”—swipe—“isn’t”—swipe—“fair!”

“A fight never is,” I said, parrying each blow. “You take the advantages you can get. Win any way you can.”

She swiped at me again, then she cried out, clutching her shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Pulled a muscle or something.” She reached for her shoulder, hissing in pain. Then she glared. “This is your fault!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You were doing really well. Let me take a look.”

She turned slightly, pushing the shift off to reveal her bare shoulder, and I stepped up to her.

Then her stick swiped around, thudding into my side. “Hah!” she said, dancing backward, pulling her shift back into place. “You’re dead! I win!”

Lira was grinning.

I stared at Senna. “You cheated!”

“No, I used my advantages.” Her chin came up. “I won any way I could.”

Lira laughed.

I stared at her a moment longer, incredulous, and then I began to laugh too. “And here I was, worried about your ability to defend yourself! Damn, now I’m pitying the next poor bastard who tries to attack you!”

Senna smiled—a full-on, actual smile. They were coming out more and more, and I was both delighted and relieved to see them. I turned to Lira. “Your turn.”

“I’ve been waiting,” she said, shifting her staff into a hold that suggested she had at least a basic idea of what she was doing.

I raised an eyebrow at her, gave the size of her stick a pointed look, glanced dismally at my smaller one, then held out my hand toward Senna. “Your sword, please, ma’am.”

It was all a show, of course, but the girls laughed. Armed with both sticks, I readied myself. “Come at me.”

She did. She wasn’t as fast as Senna, but it was obvious she had at least some points in staff. Now that I knew, it should be on her info sheet. I took a little peek, wondering what I was up against. Weapon (Staff) was at eleven. Not too shabby.

I retreated before a flurry of attacks, parrying with both hands. She used it two-handed, quarterstaff style, rotating it through a lovely little combination. Then she began it again. Once I was sure I recognized the pattern, I didn’t bother parrying a blow I knew was coming, and ducked past her, my sword landing across her ass as I spun behind.

“Youch!” she gasped, dashing forward a step. Then it was her turn to rub her butt as she pouted at me. “But I didn’t overextend!”

“You repeated,” I said. “Never repeat a pattern. A keen-eyed opponent will punish you for it.”

“Just like Kaelan just did,” Senna added, her eyes bright and sparkling. Lira glanced at her in surprise, then stuck her tongue out at her. Senna shrugged. “If I get hit, it’s only fair you do.”

“Serves you both right for talking about spanking for an hour.”

“It was two minutes!” Lira said.

It was my turn to shrug.

She looked at Senna. “Get yourself another sword, sister. Let’s see how he manages against both of us at once.”

“Uh-oh,” I said, backing up a step and feigning a look of terror. Though secretly, I was delighted. Not just from Lira calling Senna ‘sister’, but if they learned to work together, they’d only be stronger for it. It was a good idea.

Senna jumped to the challenge with enthusiasm, soon coming back with a sturdy branch.

“Oh look,” I said, doing a double-take as though I’d only just noticed them. “Two very beautiful girls, out in the woods! But I am an evil villain!” I waggled my eyebrows. “I know, I will have my wicked way with them both!”

“Nay, you fiend, you will not!” Lira said, brandishing her staff.

But Senna lowered her stick. “Actually, I don’t mind if he does,” she said. “Can I just surrender now?”

I grinned, readying my sticks. “Alright. Bring it on, you two.”

They fanned out slightly as they approached, both fully committed. They were so appealing when they looked like this, intense concentration on their faces, focused and serious, their jaws set in determination.

Lira danced in, swinging for my head, Senna an instant behind her with a swipe to my side. I parried both blows, using my ‘swords’ in a dual-wielding style. They might only have been sticks, but it felt good. My sword skill clearly applied to branches, too, and I began to think of the advantages of dual-wielding. I would never beat Drakos in a combat based on pure strength, but taking my own advice of playing to the advantages I had … it was agility and speed. Or it would be if I focused that way.

Lira followed up with a flurry of blows, and parrying her with only one weapon became harder. I spun past Senna’s lunge, using her to block Lira’s attack, and swiped one sword across Senna’s ass.

She pulled up, rubbing her bottom. “Ow, dammit! That stings!”

I grinned, waiting for them. But Lira stepped up to Senna, whispering in her ear. “Uh-oh,” I said. “Machinations afoot.”

They came in again, much as before, and I wondered what they were planning. This time, Senna took the lead, Lira hanging back. Senna pressed me hard, keeping her head up and her balance all the while. I was, frankly, impressed: she’d learned quickly. I wondered what she could do with a real sword. I’d let her take the offensive, as parrying was a lot harder than attacking, but she was already so fast that it showed what she might be capable of. If she could learn to fight like her promise suggested, I wouldn’t have to worry about her. At least against the bandits the likes of which attacked us today.

My thought process was interrupted as Lira came in, and she’d shifted the staff to a two-handed grip toward one end. It gave her much more reach, and she swung it through the air at my head. There was no parrying that; the sticks just weren’t strong enough. I ducked.

It was what Senna had been waiting for. Lira had aimed her blow perfectly. It passed a whisper over Senna’s head without her needing to worry, and it granted her an instant where she could move unimpeded, while I already had done.

But she didn’t try to attack me. Instead, she threw herself at me.

I tried to catch her, taken by surprise, and for a moment, I staggered. Then Lira’s staff curled around low, sweeping toward the back of my legs. With Senna in my arms, there was nothing I could do, and it landed with a thwack. It was my turn to say ‘Ow!’ It also swept my legs, and with Senna pushing, I went over backwards, landing hard.

Lira was there a moment later, dropping her staff and leaping on me. I could’ve pushed them off, but they deserved their victory. They’d fought hard, worked together, and were both bright-eyed and grinning as they pinned me down.

“I surrender!” I cried. “I am vanquished!”

“Should we let him up?” Lira asked Senna as she held one of my arms to the grass.

“When we’ve captured such a handsome bandit?” Senna said, both small hands restraining my other arm. “I think we should have our wicked way with him.”

I stared at the sky, watching as the sunlight refracted through the leaves overhead. “Alas, I have no choice. I am forced to comply.”

They giggled as they pulled my shirt up, then their mouths were on my body.

The sticks lay abandoned and forgotten.

Chapter 34

Belligerence and Bivouacs

A few days later, we reached Taralith. Though smaller than I’d expected, it was considerably larger than Fernwick. Nestled in a natural valley, the town spread out before us as we rode down the hill toward it. A sturdy wooden wall enclosed the settlement, and cobbled streets wove between modest stone and timber houses, each crowned with a thatched roof weathered by time and the elements.

A slow-moving river wound gently past the eastern edge of the town, and in the distance, an arched stone bridge crossed over it. The road followed the riverbank and passed a mill, where a creaking wooden wheel turned steadily, fed by the gentle current.

It was early afternoon when we reached the southern gate, which stood open with the main road running into the town beyond. A man in the simple armor of local militia raised his arm, stopping us.

“What’s your business here?”

I reined in my horse. “Just passing through,” I said easily. “Looking to pick up some supplies, any news, and maybe a room for the night.”

He glanced at Senna and Lira, then back at me. “Are you Drakos’ man?” his tone and attitude showing he didn’t think I was.

“No, friend. I’m no one’s man but my own.”

The guard nodded. Then he cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. “If you have somewhere else to be, it would be a good time to be there, stranger. Some of Drakos’ men are in town, and there’s been trouble.” He spat on the ground. “You’d best stay away, especially with two women like them.”

“Thank you, friend.”

I turned my horse, and the girls and I rode back the way we’d come.

“We’re not going shopping?” Senna asked, poorly hiding her disappointment.

“You’re not,” I said. “That fellow is right; you two will draw a fair bit of attention. While that’s a good thing most of the time, it might not be if Drakos has men here walking around like they own the place.” I shook my head. “We don’t need to take that risk.”

“I agree,” Lira murmured. “That’s not the way to do things.”

“Let’s find a place out of the way to spend the night, and I’ll head in by myself tomorrow.” I glanced at the sky, which had become progressively cloudier and gray the last couple of days. “Maybe we can find a friendly farmhouse. It looks like rain.”

We rode an hour away from Taralith and circled around to the west until we spied a likely-looking farmstead, with a decent-sized house and some outbuildings. A small child’s doll lay forgotten in the courtyard, half in a puddle, her bright blue dress stained with mud. As we reined in the horses, the door of the house opened, and the farmer came out. He was holding a pitchfork like a spear, looking scared yet determined.

“Ain’t no reason for yer to be ’ere,” he said. “Ain’t got nothin’ for yer to steal.”

I held my hands up. “Easy there. We’re just travelers looking for a place to sleep out of the rain.”

He glanced at the girls, then swung his gaze back to me. The pitchfork didn’t lower. “There’s a town about an hour from here, east. There’ll be rooms there.”

“Yes, we know. Unfortunately, some of Drakos’ men have decided to visit.” I figured there was nothing wrong with being honest with the man, and something was scaring him. It was as good a bet as any why he was this jumpy.

Drakos’ name had an immediate effect. He tensed, the pitchfork twitching in his hands, then he lowered it. “I appreciate yer problem,” he drawled, “but this ain’t the time t’ be havin’ strangers aroun’. You take yer lady friends an’ go camp in the woods.” He sniffed. “Havin’ yer ’ere is jus’ gonna cause me strife if Drakos’ grunts come knockin’.” He seemed to relent, looking apologetic. “I’d help yer if I could, but … got nippers and a wife in the house. Have to look to my own.”

I nodded, gathering up my reins again. “Very well. Then we’re sorry to have troubled you.”

He watched us ride away until his farmhouse had disappeared from sight.

Lira spoke after a while. “Drakos’ men have the whole area on edge.”

“Mmm,” I said. I knew full well this was my fault … my inability to deal with him. Lira was too polite to remind me. We might have been sheltered from this in Fernwick, but Taralith was too big to go unnoticed.

I wondered how much worse it was in Norathil. Given that the pyramid and the temple complex had been a mile south of the wall and I’d left out the back way, I hadn’t seen much of the city.

Senna was quiet and thoughtful, occasionally casting wide-eyed glances at us. While she hadn’t had the same exposure to Drakos and his men that Lira had, everyone knew the battles had been lost, the king had been killed, and the country had fallen.

It began to rain.

I led the girls off the road and across a meadow, stopping at a small copse of trees out of sight of everywhere. A rabbit fled at our approach, its white tail bobbing as it ran. “Going to be a wet night,” I said as I dismounted. “The trees will give us some protection, but …” I shrugged.

“We could make bivouacs,” Senna suggested brightly.

“What’s a bivouac?” Lira’s question echoed mine in unison.

“I’ll show you,” she said as she slid down from her pony. “It’s better than nothing.”

We gathered branches and leaves to Senna’s direction, and she was delighted to know something we didn’t. Lira and I exchanged surreptitious smiles at her sudden enthusiasm.

“Drakos must be stopped,” Lira murmured to me when our branch-collecting brought us close together. “Do you have a plan?”

I’d been thinking of nothing else for a while. But the truth was, the only plan I had was the one I was already working. It was just going too slowly. “I’m still not strong enough to fight him,” I admitted reluctantly. “I’m going to head into Taralith tomorrow and discover what I can. I’ll get us some supplies and try to find a quest that might help me get stronger.”

“A ‘quest’?”

I shrugged. “A task. Work to do. Like clearing out that mine of goblins.”

“I think you are strong enough,” Lira said, gazing at me. “You killed all the goblins, and you defeated Jarek. If you can do that…”

I shook my head. “Jarek was a thug. Drakos is a trained warrior. Besides, he’s level eighteen, and I’m…” I trailed off at her obvious confusion. “I mean, he’s a lot more experienced than I am.”

“But you’re a god!”

“A god whose powers are only slowly returning.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Lira. I’m doing the best I can.”

She turned away, looking thoughtful, and her silence just twisted the knife that much deeper.

Senna came back with her own armful of sticks, her bubbly enthusiasm a welcome balm. “Great!” she said. “Now, we stack the branches like this … and tie them with vines …” Lira and I watched with interest as Senna demonstrated how to make a lean-to, a wall of sticks big enough to sleep beneath, held up in a triangular arrangement, with moss and leaves to keep the worst of the rain out. “And there we have it, a bivouac!” She smiled up at me, looking pleased with herself.

My conversation with Lira had dampened my mood, but I fought to give her a smile back. “We’ll be much more comfortable beneath one of those.” And it was true. We’d only get damp, not soaked.

We built two more bivouacs around a fire that smoked incessantly, then cooked some dinner and ate it in silence. Senna cast concerned glances between Lira and me, sensing some of our tension.

“It’ll be alright,” she said in a small voice. “Whatever it is, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. The three of us, working together … we can take on anything.”

I gave her a smile, but Lira said nothing. My High Priestess had always been so positive that her silence hurt more than I’d ever thought it would.

We went to bed early, too wet and cold to do anything else.

I woke in the middle of the night as a body climbed beneath my bivouac with me. The fire was little more than embers, and it was too dark to see who it was, but I recognized her from the feel of her body.

“I was cold,” Senna whispered. “Can I sleep with you?”

I pulled her into me, inching back as far as I could without dislodging the carefully balanced bivouac, then tucked my damp blanket over both of us. She was small and warm in my arms, and I was grateful that she was there. She took my hand from where it lay on her hip, pulling it up until it was cupping her breast through her shift, then sighed and lay still.

It was still drizzling when morning came.

Lira watched from beneath her bivouac as I pulled on my leather jacket over my shirt and stuffed my feet into my boots, all my clothes damp and cold.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I told them.

“Where are you going?” Senna asked from within my blankets.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Going to visit the town.”

She looked up, eyes full of concern. “Be careful.”

“That’s the plan.”

But as I re-saddled my horse, Lira came over to me and helped me tighten the girth. “I’m sorry about what I said,” she murmured, her voice quiet enough to not travel to where Senna lay, lost in the pitter-patter of rain on the surrounding leaves. “I know you’re doing all you can … my God.”

I let our hands brush, the girth strap beneath them, and Lira’s fingers stilled.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Please, Kaelan, please be safe.”

I turned to her then, cupping her cheeks in my hands. “Safe is the one thing I don’t need to worry about. I’m immortal, remember?” I brushed her lips with mine. “If I’m not back today, it means something has happened and”—I glanced past her to where Senna lay—“I’ve returned to Fernwick. You blessed the bed there, right?”

Her lips twitched. “As far as I recall, the three of us blessed it together.”

I grinned. “You know what I mean. Trouble aside, I’ll be back by this afternoon. Evening at the latest.”

“I could try blessing your blankets beneath the bivouac,” Lira said thoughtfully. “It’s a lot harder than a bed … or the altar.” She brightened. “It would be a lot easier if Senna helped me with the ritual.” Her face fell. “Oh, but … then I’d have to tell her who you are.”

I shrugged. “We’re stronger together, aren’t we?” I raised my voice, letting it carry. “Tell her. I’d much rather respawn here than in Fernwick.”

Senna glanced over, her brow creased with curiosity. “Tell me what?”

“Lira will tell you. I’m going to go.” I untethered my mare and mounted. “Stay out of sight, stay together, and stay safe.”

Lira nodded. “Don’t worry, I have the staff.”

We both knew that would only help if they were found by a small group.

I turned the horse and rode off, worried about leaving them alone. But I couldn’t be everywhere at once; that wasn’t part of my God power.

More was the pity.

Chapter 35

Trade and Tension

I rode back to Taralith, entering the town through the western gate. There was another militia man on duty, but he didn’t so much as look up as I rode past.

Either he didn’t care, or the guard’s concern the day before had been provoked by the girls. It was too much to hope that Drakos’ men had left.

It was the middle of the morning, with various folks out and about on the streets. While the town was larger than Fernwick, its layout was obvious. While a network of random alleyways and minor streets crisscrossed the town, four main roads roughly aligned with the points of the compass, all converging on a town square where I’d likely find a tavern and the main stores. I wanted equipment and information, so it was the obvious destination.

I knew Drakos’ men were here somewhere, but I thought the chances of being recognized were slim. Even if they’d been in the courtyard before the temple that first day, it had been several weeks. Time enough for them to forget, and besides, I’d changed quite a bit since then. A beard now covered my jaw, and I was leaner and fitter—in fact, I was in better shape than I’d ever been. It shouldn’t be difficult to avoid them.

There was a large general store, which I took as a positive sign. Tethering my mare to the post outside it, I pushed open the door and walked in.

“Morning, good sir.” A man greeted me from behind the counter. He was middle-aged with thin hair and a bit of a potbelly, but a kind face and an easy smile. “I know most of the folk in Taralith, and I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

That was observant of him. “Just passing through.” I walked up to the counter and smiled. “Looking for a few supplies.”

“What do you have need of?”

“A dress or two, as well as some warmer clothing.” I shrugged. “I think the weather is beginning to turn.”

He nodded. “Most likely. I have some, but there’s a seamstress down East Street if you want more. I get my wares from her.”

“Thank you. Do you have a small tent?”

“Oh, I believe I do, as it happens. How small?”

“Large enough for two, ideally.” I smiled. “It’s just me, but I like my space.” I figured the three of us could squeeze in if we needed to, and I didn’t want to allude to traveling with the girls.

“Just you, but you’re after a dress, too?” He winked at me.

“A gift. For my sister.”

“Ahh,” he said, looking abashed. “Well, the tent I have is a little larger than for two. It’s an old military tent a soldier sold me a month or so back.” He shook his head. “Think he was one of the few survivors from the war.”

It made sense any survivors of the battles against Drakos’ army would’ve been keen to sell what they could, both to hide their identities and to salvage what coin was available. “Bad business, that,” I suggested tentatively, wondering how strongly this man felt about it.

“Terrible business, aye.” He shook his head again. “It’s been well used, but well cared for, too. Thing is, I can’t sell it to you for the price of a smaller tent.”

I shrugged. “Fair price for a fair item. How much is it?”

“Fifty gold.”

It was a third of the coin I had, but we wouldn’t be able to sleep under bivouacs when summer turned to fall. “Seems reasonable for a tent that size. If it’s in good condition and packs down tight, I’ll take it.”

“It’s good canvas,” the merchant said. “Packs down well. You need anything else?”

“The rest of what I had in mind should be easier. A whetstone, some rope, a lantern, and a compass.”

“Aye, I can manage all that.”

He fetched the tent from the back of the store, then gathered the smaller items onto the counter while I unfolded the canvas and inspected it, satisfying myself as to its quality.

“What does your sister like?” he asked, as he showed me the dresses he had.

I made a face. “She’s growing up too fast, you know? I want her wearing something more conservative, but she …” I pulled out a dress I thought would fit Senna. It was cut quite short, with a built-in bodice and a belt that would cinch her already tiny waist. “Yeah,” I said, sadly. “This is the sort of thing she wants.”

The man chuckled. “I have a daughter. I sympathize, my friend.”

I found a second dress, cut from thicker cloth and longer, with buttons that ran down the center. I carried them both over to the counter.

The storekeeper looked them over, checking they were free of faults, then folded them for me. “Seeing as how you’ve done me the favor of taking this tent off my hands, how does seventy-five gold for everything sound to you?”

“Sounds like a deal,” I said. I had absolutely no idea if that was a good price, but the man seemed fair-minded.

“Anything else I can do for you?” he asked, as he wrapped up the lantern and compass in thick parchment to keep them safe.

“I’m an adventurer, looking for somewhere I can do some good. Have you heard stories of towns or villages in trouble?”

“Dragons to slay, eh?” He smiled.

“Are there dragons here?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He chuckled. “I was jesting with you. Not been dragons around these parts for centuries.”

“But there used to be?”

“So the old stories go.” He shrugged. “Just stories, eh?”

I smiled. “I don’t think I could manage a dragon by myself. No, just wanted to put my skills to use helping where I can.”

“Sorry, but you’re asking the wrong person. I don’t care much for gossip. Keep myself to myself. Try Zevrin in the Hound.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Not at all. Thank you for your business.”

I strapped the tent to the back of the mare, put the rest in my saddlebags, and looked across the square at the tavern. Its name was engraved above the picture of a curved horn, proclaiming it to be the ‘Hound and Horn’, yet it made sense the locals christened it with a short form. It seemed like as good an option as any; it was getting on for lunch, and I was hungry. Besides, I hadn’t seen any of Drakos’ men yet. They wouldn’t likely hit the tavern until evening, and I’d be gone by then.

Figuring it was worth the risk, I left the horse where it was and crossed the square. The common room was a quarter full, a bunch of folks that looked like locals enjoying simple fare. I leaned on the bar and waited.

“Take a seat, friend,” the barman said, as he filled three mugs with beer. “Melissa’ll be over to see to you.”

“Are you Zevrin?”

“Aye, and this is my place. What can I do for you?”

“Just passing through. Figured I’d stop in for some lunch and catch up on the news. The fellow in the general store said you were the source of information around here.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Only because people tell me everything, whether I want to hear it or not. Beer?”

“Yes, please.”

He filled another mug, putting it on the bar before me. “So. What can I tell you? There’s been a fair few incidents with bandits on the road to the north. Merchants being robbed as they traveled down from Dunwater. But it would be more than one man could manage. I hear told there’ve been a score of them or more.”

“Are bandits common in these parts?”

“More and more. Deserters, mostly. Drakos strolled in here with his army, but now they’re sitting around idle, aren’t they?” He shook his head. “Men like that … they go looking for violence. And Drakos doesn’t care to rein them in; it’s fewer wages for him to pay out.”

“Thanks, friend. I’ll know to avoid that road then.”

“I heard a village called Fernwick to the south lost its mine to a group of goblins.”

“Did you now?” I said, raising an eyebrow to cover my desire to smile.

“That’s about all I know.”

“Appreciate that.”

“You going to get some food?”

“Sure.” I cast my eye over the common room. “I’ll take that seat in the corner.”

“I’ll send Melissa over when she’s free.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “The real scourge around these parts is Drakos and his men.” He shook his head again. “There ain’t nothin’ to be done about that, though, is there?”

“Aye,” I said, taking a swig of my beer. There was no getting away from the constant reminders of my failure. “I guess I’ll wait for Melissa at the table in the corner.”

“Right you are.”

I took a seat with my back to the wall, setting my mug on the table. There were three folks dressed in traveling clothes that I figured were merchants, and a dozen other patrons with the air of regulars. A hum of gentle conversation filled the common room, and the atmosphere was amiable. Given that this was the main social area, it spoke well of the town.

A girl walked out of a side door, carrying a platter with trays of meat and bread. She delivered it to the merchants, then went to the bar to fetch the mugs of beer Zevrin had poured. I saw him point to me, and she nodded. She dropped the beer mugs off, then made her way over.

“Welcome, stranger. Zevrin said you wanted to eat?” She gave me a warm smile. She was a pretty girl, maybe eighteen years old, wearing a thin dress. Like Senna’s, but shorter; it came down to mid-thigh.

“What do you have?”

“Meat, bread, cheese, or some of last night’s stew if you want something hot.”

“Bread and cheese sound good.”

Another smile. “Coming right up.”

The door opened and four men swaggered in, looking around the tavern like they owned the place. They were all large men, with fair skin, blonde or light brown hair and prominent beards. Both their hair and beards were braided, and one of them had shaved the sides of his head. They wore sleeveless, hardened leather jerkins dyed black, swords and daggers belted at their waists, and one of them had a scar running down his cheek.

Melissa froze in mid-step before hurrying back to the bar, her gaze averted.

The mood had changed swiftly, the patrons focusing on their food, and the conversation faded away.

I didn’t need any more clues to know who they were. Drakos’ men had arrived.

Chapter 36

Assault and Altercation

“Ale, wench!” one of them cried, landing his hand firmly on Melissa’s backside as she walked past. The girl danced away with a cry.

Idiots. I could see how this was going to pan out and could only hope I was wrong.

She fled to the bar, and the four men loudly took a table in the center of the room while Zevrin poured their drinks. The regulars were tense and staring down at their tables.

Melissa brought over a tray with the four tankards balanced carefully and set it down on the edge of their table. But no sooner had the tray come to rest than one of the men slid his arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

She squirmed, protesting, trying to stand again, but she was half his size. “Get off me!”

“Oh, come on,” he said, grinning as he pulled her tighter into his lap. “We know you want to do your bit to keep Drakos’ troops happy.”

The other three laughed as they watched.

I waited for Zevrin to say something, or for the locals to object. But they all had their eyes averted. There was fear in the air, and that did not bode well.

Dammit.

I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, and if I interfered, I’d have to kill these men. What would happen then? I sat watching tensely, hoping that the man had had his fun and would let Melissa go.

Instead, the man’s hands wandered more. One arm held her around the waist, rucking up her short skirt, while his other hand groped her breast through her thin shift. She squirmed on his lap, fighting him ineffectually, the other men grinning as they looked on.

“Barman!” I said into the silence, drawing many pairs of eyes. “Another tankard of ale.”

There was only one serving girl. What were the chances the men would let her go when another patron needed her? Slim, but worth a try.

The men ignored me, more interested in Melissa. One of the other men had caught her wrist, pulling her arm away, ending what little defense she’d been capable of. She whimpered as the first man’s hand slid inside the top of her dress, his other trying to pry her knees apart.

That’s far enough.

“Put her down,” I said in a bored voice. “The rest of us need service, too.”

The man with the cheek scar glanced over. “You got a big mouth, stranger. I’d shut it if I were you.” Then he turned and threw a coin onto the bar. “A room, innkeeper.”

Oh, hell no.

The four men stood, their drinks ignored, Melissa held tightly. Scarface walked to the bar. “A room, I said.”

Zevrin pulled out a key and slapped it down, keeping his eyes averted. Still no one moved, fear and shame lying thick in the air.

Let her go.

But they didn’t. They began to pull Melissa with them, her sobs the only noise in the common room.

Still, no one moved.

Fuck it.

I stood up, kicking my stool back. It scraped across the floor and banged into the wall, drawing eyes to me once more.

“She doesn’t want to go with you.”

The men stopped, turning toward me. Melissa stared at me with eyes full of tears, hope, and fear.

“You want her instead, is that it?” one of the men said, grinning. “Wait your turn. You can have her when we’re done.”

I took a step out from behind my table. “Release her.”

Two of the men came forward to meet me, Scarface and the one holding Melissa watching on.

“You’re making a mistake, stranger.”

“Just rough him up and chuck him out,” Scarface said, his tone indifferent. “We’re going to start with the girl.”

Dammit. But it had been inevitable from the time they’d arrived.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

The two men walked quickly toward me. “You’re keeping us from our fun,” one of them said. Then he threw a straight-armed punch to my face.

I swayed to the side, deflecting his wrist, then stepped forward and slammed my elbow into his nose, my full weight behind the blow. He reeled back with a gasp of pain. The other man scowled and pulled his knife, slashing toward my head. I dropped under the blow, delivering a punch to the side of his knee that crumpled his leg. As he fell, I rose, caught the back of his head in my hand, and used his own momentum to bounce his face off the edge of my table. His neck snapped with a crunch that rang out, filling the tavern.

The one I’d elbowed pulled his own knife, his face a mask of blood. I’d broken his nose. “You fucker!” he yelled as he ran at me, knife held low and rage in his eyes. I waited until he stabbed toward me, blocking his strike with my forearm. Then I grabbed his wrist, punched him in the inside of his elbow, and as his arm gave in, I used the momentum to jab his own knife into his throat.

He slumped to the floor, gurgling around the blade.

Damn, but I was fast. When had I become so fast? Fighting Jarek had done me a world of favors.

If the tavern had been quiet before, it was nothing to the sudden silence and stunned disbelief.

“Let go of her,” I said to the man holding Melissa, stepping past the men I’d killed.

But the man had his prize and was too dense to see the inevitable outcome. He clung on to the serving girl, spitting curses.

The one I figured to be their leader drew his blade—a straight, double-edged sword, too long to be a short sword, but more compact and wider than a Valoran weapon—the distinctive whisk of steel loud in the hushed common room. “Let’s see how tough you are.”

There was a scrape of chairs as the patrons got out of the way, a couple of them wisely going for the door. I pulled my rapier and drew my dagger in my offhand. Fighting the girls with two sticks had given me a hankering to see how well I could dual-wield.

He came forward, and I met him in the middle of the room, giving him an easy target. He thrust, faster than I expected, but I grinned as I parried him with ease. It was good to know my skills had come on so far. He took a pace back, narrowing his eyes.

“Roscoe,” he snapped, “dump that wench, and go get the rest.”

Dammit. That could be a problem … depending how many ‘the rest’ were.

“But, Sarge⁠—”

“Now, Roscoe.” Scarface didn’t take his eyes off me.

The man called Roscoe pushed Melissa into the bar with a curse, circling behind the sergeant to go for the door. I considered pulling a throwing knife, but there were patrons cowering against the wall, and I couldn’t trust my accuracy. I either had to show my back to Scarface or let Roscoe leave. Neither option was a good one.

I stabbed a feint toward Scarface, then spun to intercept Roscoe. But the sergeant was fast; he parried my feint and came in hard, and I was forced to turn back and defend myself. Our blades crossed in a flurry of parries and ripostes, and I could do nothing to prevent Roscoe’s escape. Scarface took a pace back, disengaging.

He grinned. “Now you’re fucked, stranger. When Roscoe returns with the rest of the lads, they’ll string you up above the gate as an example of what happens to those with big mouths.”

“They might,” I said, “but you won’t be there to see it.”

His face paled as I lunged forward, using both my rapier and dagger in tandem, pressing him back with each step. He was breathing hard in seconds, desperately trying to weather the storm of blades and strikes. The sergeant was pretty good; he lasted almost half a minute before I trapped him against the side of the bar, knocked his sword aside with my rapier, and rammed my dagger into his heart.

Attack has gained 2 ranks.

Defense has gained 1 rank.

Speed has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Dagger) has gained 2 ranks.

You have gained a new skill: Dual Wielding. Dual Wielding is now level 1.

Dual Wielding has gained 5 ranks.

I grinned. That was exactly the skill I wanted. I was beginning to shape a version of myself that could challenge Drakos despite my strength disadvantages. And my God power hadn’t even deactivated yet.

It was time to go and intercept Roscoe before he came back with more than I could handle.

“You got somewhere to hide these bodies?” I asked Zevrin as I walked to the door. “I wouldn’t leave them lying around here too long.”

“You’re going to get us killed, stranger!” he said. “What’ll happen when these men are found missing?”

I stopped, turning, looking around the common room. No one met my eyes except Zevrin, and his were scared. And Melissa, who looked half-grateful, half-guilty, pulling together the remains of her ripped dress.

“You folks need to stand up for each other; otherwise, men like these will take what they want, when they want. Your wives, your daughters, your homes.” I shook my head. “Take these bodies out and bury them. If anyone comes asking, say they were bragging about killing the bandits up on the north road. Then, when they don’t come back, that’ll be that, won’t it?”

I saw hope forming in Zevrin’s face, and there were murmurs of agreement from some of the patrons at my words. But there was only so much I could do; the folks of Taralith had to make their own decisions. I pulled the door open and went looking for Roscoe.

But I didn’t have to look hard. Roscoe was right outside in the square, and he wasn’t alone.

There were six more of Drakos’ men arrayed before me, and their weapons were already drawn.

Chapter 37

Archery and Allies

“That’s him!” Roscoe shouted, pointing at me.

Yeah, no shit.

One of the men took a pace forward. He was a big fellow, some kind of silver emblem on his collar. “I’d tell you to surrender, but we’re going to kill you whether you do or not, so…” He shrugged and grinned at me.

“Your honesty is truly refreshing.” I wondered how much time my God power had left to run. May as well make the most of it.

Two of the men flanked his left, and Roscoe and two others were on his right. Roscoe was looking scared, and one of those standing near him appeared indifferent, like I was dead anyway, so why bother?

They seemed like a good place to start.

I flung myself toward both men, my blades lashing out. My dagger caught Roscoe on his arm, but he staggered back in shock, and the cut was minor. The other man reacted slowly, his weapon coming up too late. My rapier beat his sword aside, and my dagger found his heart.

But the heavy tread of feet surrounded me, and I spun to meet the attacks of the four remaining men.

I backed up before them, step by step, too pressured to even get in an attack of my own. Roscoe joined them, cradling his injured arm to his chest. And it was all I could do to defend myself before their onslaught, parrying with both weapons with everything I had.

They hindered each other as they tried to reach me, and I had to keep backing up across the square to stop them from encircling me. But despite getting in each other’s way, there were still too many blades. A strike got through, slicing across my upper arm. I only avoided another thrust by twisting at the last second, the point scraping across my breastplate. Five against one was just too many, and these men weren’t unskilled peasants, but trained soldiers.

Dammit, Lira wasn’t going to be impressed when I suddenly arrived back in my bivouac, without any of my gear. That was even assuming she’d managed to bless it and I didn’t wake up in Fernwick.

God Power Deactivated.

Well, that was a shame. At least I didn’t get distracted by a scrolling screen of status messages; I was grateful that they waited for a lull in the action before they arrived.

The four men pressed me hard, and I backed up before them across the cobbles of the square.

I blinked. Four? There’d been five a moment ago. But now one of them lay on the ground behind his fellows, an arrow shaft sticking high out of his back.

I grinned. I had an ally somewhere, and none of us had heard the swish-thud of the arrow over the ring of our steel.

“You men are the finest in Drakos’ army?” I goaded, keeping them distracted. “Five of you, and you can’t land a worthy hit?”

A sword slashed across my thigh, the ironic timing awkward to say the least. But another arrow flew in, catching one of those flanking me in the neck. He gasped and fell, clutching feebly at the shaft before he died. Yet this time, the others had noticed.

“Archer!” shouted the one with the emblem on his collar.

The men hesitated, distracted. I leaped to my left, beat aside the nearest man’s blade with mine, and stabbed him in the stomach. He dropped his weapon and doubled over, blood coating his hands, his legs giving way as he fell to the ground.

Silver Emblem turned and ran. The last man looked around with wild eyes, then bolted, too, but in the opposite direction.

Dammit. If either of them escaped, there’d be an account of what happened here. I needed them both dead for the ‘oh, the men went to fight bandits’ north-road story to stick.

“Kill that one!” I yelled to my invisible ally and went in pursuit of Silver Emblem. My injured thigh protested with every step, but the leg held, and that was enough.

He had a few seconds head start, but it was rare for big fellows to be fast, and he wasn’t. I was. He’d barely reached the edge of the square before I caught up with him.

Spinning to face me as he heard me coming, he dropped into a crouch, readying his blade.

“Come on then, you fucker.”

I kinda liked this guy. He was always so straight to the point.

Behind me came the distinctive swish of an arrow, a strangled cry, and the sound of a body crashing across the cobbles.

“I think Taralith is running out of Drakos’ men. What do you see in him, anyway?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. Was that a trace of fear?

He didn’t answer. He came out of his crouch in a lunge, and when I parried, he was quick on the riposte, his sword heavier than mine. I parried again, his blade beating mine back. He was better one-on-one than he had been with his men in the way. I took a pace back, bringing him into me, and his eyes glimmered as he lunged again. His sword slashed down, and I parried with both my blades, crossed before my face. He leaned into me, his other hand gripping his sword hilt, and it was clear he was stronger. Hell, everyone I faced was stronger.

But I was faster.

I slipped his blade to the side, and the sudden shift threw him off balance. My dagger went in under his arm, and he gasped. Then my rapier sliced across his throat.

I cleaned my blades on his shirt, left him lying on the ground, and walked back into the square. The collective population of Taralith had emerged from wherever they’d been hiding, staring at me and the bodies I’d left behind.

This was an opportunity to get them on board, if I could find the words. I couldn’t be everywhere at once, and the people of Valorah needed to begin fighting back.

“Defeating Drakos is a responsibility for all of us,” I said, my voice carrying clearly through the silence. “We all need to fight if he and his men are to be stopped.”

“Easy for you to say,” someone called out. “I’m a baker, not a warrior.”

“You don’t need to fight with blades. You can fight with defiance, with subterfuge, or simply by refusing to stand idly by while your neighbor suffers.” I addressed the man who had spoken. “Bake extra bread and give it to those who have suffered.”

He stared at me, then slowly nodded.

“But there are so many of them!” someone else shouted.

“Aye,” I said, “but fewer now, eh?” I looked around at those facing me, turning slowly in the center of the square. “How do you dig up a mountain? One spadeful at a time. Now, there are none of Drakos’ men in Taralith, and when more come looking—which they will—you tell them they went up the north road looking for bandits and never returned.”

There was a stir at this, amidst a few scoffs of disbelief at the suggestion that any of Drakos’ men would do such a thing.

“Which of you will say otherwise?” I asked. “Which of you wants Drakos to rule Valorah?”

“Not I!” said a man.

“Nor I!” other voices joined in.

“Then bury these bodies where they won’t be found and go back to your homes and your work. Protect your families.”

“Who are you, stranger?” a voice called.

“I’m no one,” I said. “Just a knife in the dark for those who wear Drakos’ black. A shadow when they walk by, stabbing swiftly and mercilessly. I’m revenge for injustice, vengeance for those abused, and anger manifest. As we all can be.”

I wondered if I’d gone too far, my words too melodramatic. I hadn’t had a lot of practice making speeches. But there were nods among many, angry stares, and remembered family and friends.

Folks started drifting away, while others bent in twos and threes to pick up the bodies.

I scanned the crowd for my archer friend but saw no one with a bow. Whomever they were, they preferred to remain obscure.

Attack has gained 3 ranks.

Defense has gained 2 ranks.

Speed has gained 3 ranks.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 2 ranks.

Weapon (Dagger) has gained 4 ranks.

Dual Wielding has gained 4 ranks.

Etiquette has gained 2 ranks.

You have gained a new skill: Leadership. Leadership is now level 1.

Leadership has gained 1 rank.

Well, maybe I was better at speeches than I thought I was. But rank two was a pretty low bar.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 9. You have 12 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills. You have an unspent Perk. You have an unspent Attribute point. God Power is now Level 2.

I blinked. An upgrade to God Power? That was unexpected.

Define God Power.

God (Level 2): Power of Kaelan. Reincarnation upon death at the closest blessed altar. Companions receive accelerated skill and level gain. Activation: once per day. Accelerated experience gain. Accelerated skill gain. All skills increased while active. Duration: 5 minutes.

Well, that was cool. Now my skills got a boost when I used the power.

I saw Zevrin approaching and sheathed my rapier and dagger while I waited for him.

“Thank you for what you did for Melissa,” he said as he stopped before me. “I … I should’ve said something.”

“If you had, they’d have just beaten the crap out of you. We both know it.”

“Yeah, but …” He shook his head. “I knew this would happen. They walked around like they were untouchable, and it got worse as time went on. I’d seen them looking at Melissa before, but…” He sighed. “I just hoped it wouldn’t go so far.”

“That’s the way of unchecked tyrants,” I said. “They always want more. Is Melissa alright?”

Zevrin nodded. “She will be. She’s pretty tough.” He gave a shrug. “Have to be when you’re a barmaid.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

“Listen, you did a good thing here today. I wanted to say … well, I guess I wanted to say thank you. Melissa wanted to say it too, but her mother took her home.” He gave another awkward shrug. “Just … er … well, if you ever want a beer … there’ll never be a charge.”

I grinned. “Best news I’ve heard all day. I could do with one!”

He gave a laugh. “Well then, come on, let’s go and take care of that.”

We started walking back to the Hound and Horn, but it was as if Zevrin’s approach had granted the other townsfolk permission. Within a few paces, there were a dozen others thanking me, slapping my back, and offering to buy me drinks.

“…Lost a son in the war. Men like you restore hope…”

“…Good thing you did there…”

“…Heard about what happened to Melissa. You saved a nice lass…”

The crowd parted to reveal a woman standing before me. She appeared about Lira’s age, her clothing tight and practical in shades of browns and greens. A bow was looped over her shoulder, a hunting knife at her hip, and her quiver held only a few arrows. Her brown hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. She had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and what was probably an attractive face when she wasn’t glaring. Startling green eyes seemed to stare straight through me, and her expression was severe.

I nodded respectfully anyway, hoping she wasn’t about to start a fight. “Is it you I have to thank for the help out there?”

“I’d have done more, but I was still climbing onto the rooftop when you attacked.” Her stern expression didn’t change as she said this, and her eyes ran swiftly over me as she appraised me.

Around us, the crowd had begun to disperse. Some glanced curiously at us, but made their way past.

Zevrin slapped my shoulder. “The beer will be ready when you’re done.”

I gave him a nod. Zevrin clearly knew the woman and didn’t think I was about to have an arrow in my gut. I took that as some encouragement and turned back to the woman as Zevrin wandered off.

She was still staring, her expression hard. “Well, I appreciate the help.” I tried a smile. “Next time, I’ll wait for you.” I offered her my hand. “I’m Kaelan.”

She folded her arms. “Valerie. I’m the fletcher in Taralith.”

“Fletcher?” I said, letting my hand fall. “Look more like a huntress.”

“Got to test my wares, haven’t I?” She said it without a smile. I wondered if she ever smiled.

“I’m glad you did. You helped ensure none of these men escaped to report back to Drakos.”

“I heard your little speech.” She ran her eyes over me again. “You’ve kicked the hornets’ nest, haven’t you? Taralith will come to suffer for it.”

So that was the cause of her enmity.

I cocked my head at her. “If you think that way, why did you help me?”

“Once you’d started the fight, there didn’t seem much point sitting it out.” She shrugged. “They had it coming to them, and you gave me the opportunity.”

“Well, I⁠—”

“Are you Kaelan?”

I turned at the interruption to see one of the militia standing nearby. He had a cudgel on his belt, but his hands hung loose; I didn’t think he was here to cause trouble.

“Who’s asking?”

“We got a man at the southern gate. Turned up about a half-hour ago. Big guy, long beard. Pale looking. The only thing he says is ‘Kaelan’.” The guard sniffed. “Zevrin pointed you out.”

“Yes, I’m Kaelan. Want to show me?” Of all the people who knew I was here, it sounded most like Rolf, except for the pale bit. Still, it could be anyone. Maybe my name was getting known.

“Aye,” the man said, nodding.

I turned back to Valerie to take my leave, but she’d gone, disappearing into the crowd while I’d been distracted. A strange woman, but one I had a suspicion I’d see again.

“Let’s go then,” I said to the guard.

He led me to the road south from the square.

“He doesn’t seem right in the head,” the guard explained as we walked. “I asked him what his business was—we do that for new faces—and he just said ‘Kaelan’. Struck me as strange the way he said it.”

“Where is he now?”

“I called a couple of the other fellas. We’re holding him in the guard room. He was quite content to stand and wait, wouldn’t even take a seat. Just kept saying your name.”

“Nothing else?” None of this sounded right.

“Nothing else. Just stood there, holding his hammer, he was. Big one. Y’know, a blacksmith tool? Bizarre thing to walk around with.”

Definitely Rolf, but why was he here, and why the odd behavior? I walked faster.

“Just in there,” the militia guard said as we approached the gate and reached the guard house.

I stepped inside. It was Rolf alright, standing there with a guard on either side of him. His face was pale, just like the militia man had said, and there was something strange about his eyes.

Then he smashed his hammer into the chest of the guard nearest him, sending the man flying into the wall behind him with a sickening crunch.

“Rolf!” I gasped, stunned by the sudden savagery of it.

One of the guards reacted faster than the others, bringing his cudgel down on Rolf’s head with a crack. It should’ve felled him, or at least stunned him. His skull likely split. But Rolf ignored the blow, raised his hammer⁠—

—and charged at me.

Chapter 38

Rolf and Reunions

“Rolf, stop!”

I took a hasty step backwards. One of the guards grabbed at Rolf’s arm, but Rolf plowed over him without breaking stride, knocking the man down and trampling him, eyes fixed blankly on me as if he didn’t even see the guard fall. His hammer was already rising.

“Rolf, it’s Kaelan!”

My name only seemed to aggravate him further. His lips curled back, baring white, bloodless gums, and he swung the hammer down.

I was so stunned I almost didn’t move, but my dodge skill kicked in, boosting my sluggish reflexes just enough. But I was too slow to avoid him when he barreled into me, knocking me flying. I hit the ground a few feet back, winded, limbs loose as water.

Rolf had always been strong, but that was like being hit by a damn semi-truck.

He was coming again. The hammer rose, but this time I was in complete accord with my dodge skill. I rolled out from under it, scrambling back to my feet. The hammer struck the ground, leaving a crater where my chest had been.

Had I wronged him somehow? Slept with his wife? Surely I’d remember that.

I held my hands out in what I hoped was a mollifying way. “Rolf, whatever it is…”

Two of the guards rushed in, and one swung an ax.

“No!” I shouted, but Rolf’s hammer was already swinging for my head, forcing me to duck. It whirred past, close enough to stir my hair.

The ax came down on Rolf’s arm. There was nothing I could do. There was a sickening crunch. The arm sheared clean off, the ax driving through and into his side. Jagged splinters of white bone protruded from the mangled flesh, yet there was no blood.

The severed arm dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, hammer still gripped in the dead fingers.

I watched, sickened, as Rolf clamped his boot down on it, stooped, and wrenched the hammer free.

“Damn it, Rolf,” I whispered, drawing my rapier.

“Fuck…!” one of the guards gasped, backing away.

Left-handed, Rolf raised his hammer again, his face blank as a mask, oblivious to his missing arm and the horrific injury in his side.

And there was still no blood.

I dodged to the side as the hammer came down. No-longer-Rolf was even stronger than he had been in life, but he wasn’t fast. I thrust the point of my rapier into his chest, and he didn’t make a sound. The hammer rose again.

“Sorry, my friend.” Gritting my teeth, I gripped my blade and swung again, taking his head off clean at the neck. It bounced in the dirt a few feet away, rolling to a stop, and his torso swayed. For a heartbeat, I feared it wasn’t enough. Then his legs crumpled, and Rolf was still.

We all stared at the decapitated body as if expecting it to rise again. But it didn’t. Rolf was, at last, truly dead. And I hoped wherever he was, he’d finally be at peace.

“What the fuck was that?” one of the guards breathed.

I’d been wondering the same.

“Fucking zombie!” another guard muttered.

Yep. That’s what I’d been wondering. But how?

“Necromancy,” the first guard said, and both of them made some intricate twirling motion with their hands. I wasn’t sure it would ward off Rolf’s hammer, let alone a necromancer.

I turned away, feeling sick, walking back toward where I’d left my horse. The guards were talking about burning Rolf’s body and the dead guard inside the gatehouse, just in case.

“Kaelan?” one of them called.

I kept walking. I needed my horse, and to get back to the girls.

“Kaelan!” His call was more insistent. I turned, barely hiding my impatience. “Will there be more zombies?”

Rolf had come looking for me specifically, with the sole purpose of burying his hammer in my chest. It couldn’t get more personal. Would the necromancer know his hold over Rolf was broken?

Fernwick. If the villagers weren’t already dead, they might soon be.

“Not if I can help it,” I said grimly. “But double the guards on the gates.”

I didn’t know if they’d listen; it wasn’t like I had any authority here, but their expressions suggested commonsense was a powerful motivator.

Turning away, I walked faster. I had to get back to the girls, then reach Fernwick and discover what had happened. I had to stop any more zombies that might come after me.

And I had to find that necromancer and kill the son of a bitch.

I was quiet and contemplative for the journey back down south to Fernwick, Rolf’s death playing over in my mind.

The girls had reacted with horror when they learned of his fate, and they kept casting concerned glances at me as we rode, their eyes full of questions.

I ignored them. I didn’t have the answers.

Drakos must have sent his necromancer after me; that much was obvious. Somehow, I’d been tracked to Fernwick—or maybe Lira had been. Was she in danger, too? I had to assume she was.

At least we’d brought Senna with us. If she’d stayed behind … fuck, I didn’t want to finish that thought.

What level would a necromancer need to be to raise Rolf and send him on a four-day trek to find me? More than four days—we’d had horses, he hadn’t.

Wait, that made no sense. It had only been five days since we left Fernwick. The necromancer would’ve had to arrive right after we’d left, and even then, Rolf would’ve needed five or six days to cover that distance.

But that assumed he rested and couldn’t travel at night. Walking all day and all night—no reason for him not to—yes, that made sense. Three days, maybe. So the necromancer had to have arrived within a day or two of us leaving.

Dammit. If I’d been there, could I have stopped him? Or would we all be dead, Lira and Senna included?

I needed to keep the girls away until I knew what I was up against. And I needed to be at my best for this. A necromancer wasn’t a bandit or even a trained soldier. He was a significant threat.

I reviewed my character sheet; my skills had ranked up fast, courtesy of my God Power. I was definitely getting better at this stuff. But would it be enough to face a necromancer?

The reminders at the bottom of the page caught my eye: an Attribute point to spend, another Perk, and twelve Skill points waiting to be allocated. I’d been in no rush to spend them, waiting to see what came up, but if there was ever a time to use them, it was now.

What was I aiming for here? I’d never be able to stand toe-to-toe with Drakos in a brawl; my strength wasn’t my Strength. My edge was Agility and Speed—and my Intelligence, though I hadn’t done a great job of using it so far. Still, it helped me gain skills faster. Perhaps my intelligence was the reason for my God Power. If Strength had been my primary stat, my God Power might have been something like ‘Hulk-out for five minutes’. There was no way of knowing.

Anyway, I needed to concentrate on what I could do, not what I couldn’t, and that meant an Agility focus. Define Agility.

Agility: A measure of dexterity, reflexes, and precision. Affects ranged attacks, dodging, stealth, and accuracy with weapons.

That was pretty much as I’d expected, though I hadn’t realized it affected my Archery, too. Maybe that was why my bow was ranking up fast.

It didn’t spell out what a higher Agility would do in practical terms, but given the mechanics of this world, I figured it would make my related skills and secondary attributes improve faster. It was the obvious choice.

Buy Agility.

Agility has gained 1 point.

Alright. Now for the Perk.

Show Perks.

In addition to the ones I’d seen before, a few new ones appeared:

Available Perks (Level 9):

Combat-Oriented:

Power Strike: Increases damage with heavy weapons by 15%.

Arrow Rain: Gain the ability to fire arrows in quick succession.

Non-Combat:

Silver Tongue: Significantly improves success in persuasion and deception during dialogue.

Horse Whisperer: Gain greater control over mounts, increasing speed and stamina during travel.

I still liked the look of Quick Strike, from the earlier Perks, for increased attack speed, and Precise Aim for my bow, but I could cover those off with skill increases. Heavy weapons weren’t my thing, so that was out. Arrow Rain was the obvious choice.

Buy new Perk: Arrow Rain.

You have gained a new Perk: Arrow Rain.

A picture was forming. A dual-wielding, stealthy archer with high dexterity, agility, and speed. Thinking back to my D&D game, it sounded like a Ranger. I might not have a Class yet, but at least I could work toward one. Maybe I could find a trainer, make it official.

It seemed like the best way to counter Drakos’ brute strength. I could see it: dodging his blows, darting in to strike, then spinning away before he could recover. Although the bastard had been faster than I’d expected in our last encounters.

Still, it was a plan. I had twelve skill points to spend; I dumped four each in Archery, Dodge, and Stealth, then reviewed my sheet again:

That looked better. Whether it would be enough to defeat Drakos’ necromancer? Only time would tell. Show more. Dual Wielding was at 10. Riding was at 4, Leadership at 2. Skills I’d need to work on eventually. Throwing was at 6—I’d likely need that one sooner rather than later.

And I was level 9. Halfway to Drakos, assuming he hadn’t leveled up as well. I’d wanted to hit ten levels higher and absolutely destroy him the way he had me, but it looked like time wasn’t on my side. Valorah’s people were running out of it—what had happened with Drakos’ men in Taralith was a prime example of that, and Rolf’s fate was proof, too.

The bastard had to die, sooner rather than later.

But first, I needed to get back to Fernwick and find this necromancer.

Then I was going to kill him.

Chapter 39

Death and Disgust

“I want you two to stay here,” I told the girls. “Bar the door after I’ve gone and stay quiet. I’ll come and find you when it’s over.

We’d stopped at an abandoned farmhouse Senna had directed us to an hour or so out of Fernwick. It didn’t look like it had been used in a while and was perfect as a base of operations.

“But I can help,” Lira said. “I can heal you if you’re injured, and I have the staff.”

I shook my head. “That staff will be useless against zombies. You could cast every spell it has, and they’d just keep coming. No, I want you two out of the way for this one.”

I didn’t need the distraction of keeping them safe, and I saw in her eyes the moment Lira realized that. She nodded. “Alright, Kaelan.”

Senna was watching me, her eyes full of fear. She’d already figured her presence would be more hampering than helpful. I went to her, cupping her cheek. “Immortal, remember? Nothing will happen to me.”

It was the first time I’d discussed it with her, though she’d stared at me in awe when I’d returned to our base in the copse of trees. Lira had blessed the bivouac there, which fortunately I’d never needed, and she’d told Senna the whole story, exactly as we’d discussed.

Senna nodded, her cheek pressing to my palm. “I’ve never much been one for gods,” she murmured.

I gave a short laugh. “Neither have I.”

“Recently, I’ve begun to change my mind,” she added.

I grinned. “Me, too.”

I gave them both a kiss, then went to my horse. I wasn’t taking the mare with me; I wanted a stealthy approach. But I took my bow and quiver to go with my blades, emptied my pack of everything I wouldn’t need, and headed out on foot.

The first thing to do was to get a lay of the land. Best case, Fernwick was fine, and it was only Rolf who had been zombified. I held on to a sliver of hope that Fernwick was so far off the beaten track that it hadn’t been found, but I couldn’t shake the sense of dread and of being pursued.

Circling around, I approached from the north, coming up through the trees that ringed Fernwick and stopping on the edge. The village lay ahead, some open farmland between me and the white wattle-and-daub buildings I could see beyond. Closest was Bjorn’s mayor’s house, the largest building of all. It blocked much of my view of the village beyond, but it would also let me draw near without being spotted.

I hoped.

I watched for a while, but there was no activity. No one in the fields. No one to be seen past the houses that blocked most of my view. It was mid-afternoon and far too quiet for the time of day. There should be people out, working in the fields or walking around. My dread lay like lead in my stomach, but I wasn’t surprised. Fernwick had fallen, and the only question was what had happened to the people.

It didn’t even look like there were signs of a fight. The village was perfectly peaceful; no houses on fire. I ran forward in a crouch through a field of wheat that hadn’t yet been harvested, the long ears offering cover.

From the village came an irregular banging noise, like a door slamming repeatedly in the breeze. Just one more indication of what I would find: nothing.

I crept up to the back of Bjorn’s house, listening hard. There was only the bang of that door and the faint moan of the wind.

Edging around the side of the house, I moved to where I’d be able to see into the main street. Rolf’s forge was on my right, my house a good way down the road that stretched before me.

All was quiet.

And then someone shuffled into sight. They took a pace or two, then stopped. Then another pace, and stopped again. It was a man I didn’t recognize, and though it was difficult to tell at this range, his skin was pale like Rolf’s had been.

Another figure shambled out from between two houses. A woman, this time, in a dress that was torn off one sleeve. She also moved in that same strange shuffling gait like both of them had forgotten the reason they’d left their homes and were trying to remember.

I saw someone else, farther down the road, banging against a door that was open. The figure pushed at the door; it slammed into the doorjamb and bounced back. The figure didn’t move, just watching, then they reached out and pushed the door again. Slam. Wait. Slam.

So, now I knew what had happened to Fernwick. The whole damn village had been killed and raised as mindless zombies—unless any of them had fled. Damn, I hoped some of them had managed to get out.

But where was the necromancer?

I left my bow looped over my shoulders and drew my rapier and dagger—an arrow would do nothing to these creatures. If they attacked me, I’d need to take their heads off. Yet they didn’t seem interested in the world around them, shuffling about almost mindlessly, pointlessly drifting from one place to another. They’d be easy to avoid. I'd be able to explore without worrying about them.

Perhaps I could find clues to tell me where the necromancer had gone.

I stepped out from the side of Bjorn’s house into the street and had taken two paces before I saw them. A group of three zombies, two women and a man, standing unmoving only a few yards away. They’d been stationery, not even a breath to warn they were there.

They saw me at the same time I saw them.

It was like someone had flicked a switch. They went from lifeless to animated in the time it took to register their presence, from stationery to wild movement in a blink. Their mouths opened wide, with white, bloodless gums and yellow teeth. Even while they were still yards away, their hands reached for me, fingers clawing in the air like they were digging into my body.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move, stunned by surprise. Then I grimaced, gripped my rapier and dagger, and readied myself. They might once have been two women and a man, but now they were dead. Nothing more than the tools of a necromancer. I had to remember that.

They came on faster than I’d anticipated, closing the gap at a shambling run. Far more agile than the disinterested shuffling I’d seen thus far. Two of them would reach me at much the same time, the third lagging only a pace or two behind. I circled to one side, forcing two of the zombies behind the leader. It was a woman; perhaps it was even Nira, the one Rolf had asked to fetch his hourglass when I fought Jarek. The zombie looked a bit like her, but with a pale face, snarling teeth, and redness around her eyes, it was impossible to be sure.

My rapier took off her nearest arm at the elbow, and she didn’t so much as blink or stagger. Her other hand grabbed at my breastplate, trying to pull me in as her head thrust forward, mouth opening wider.

I drove my dagger in through her mouth and up into her brain. The blade went in easily, with less resistance than I’d expected. But her body was a dry husk. There was no blood, no reaction, just a snarl as she kept trying to get her teeth into me.

Okay then. A dagger in the head didn’t stop them.

I’d stepped into a fucking horror film.

Leaving my blade where it was, I pulled back sharply, my broad-bladed rapier coming up to take her remaining hand at the wrist. Then the edge of my backstroke found her neck.

Just like with Rolf, it cleaved cleanly through, her head bouncing off into the street, my dagger still buried in her mouth. It shouldn’t be that easy to behead someone, but their bodies were so dead and dry, there was little to stop my blade. The rest of her—it, she wasn’t a woman anymore—the rest of it slumped at my feet, save for the dismembered hand that still gripped the top ridge of my breastplate.

Well, that was fucking disgusting.

It might’ve taken only a few seconds, but the two zombies behind her had kept coming. The first grabbed my arm, sinking his teeth through my leathers and into my flesh. His bite was stronger than it should’ve been, his grip on my arm like steel. I couldn’t shake him off, and my rapier was in that hand.

The other one arrived, throwing itself at me. I spun, blocking the attack with the body of the one who had his teeth in me, and the second zombie crashed into the first. She staggered and fell, the force of her collision dislodging his teeth from my arm, and I cried out as he tore away a chunk of my flesh.

That turned out to be a mistake.

The other zombies had ignored us up to this point, but at my cry, their heads whipped around. Zombies started running toward me from all directions. Two from down the street that led to my house. One from near the forge. Another from the down the other way. All getting closer by the second.

It hurt to swing my arm, but I twisted against the steel grip of the zombie who hadn’t let go, somehow breaking free. Maybe I snapped his thumb off, but this wasn’t the time to stop and check. Instead, I spun around behind him. He didn’t even try to turn, as if out of sight, out of mindlessness. I severed his head with a single well-aimed blow, and he dropped just like the other.

Two down. A village to go.

The one that had been knocked to the ground hadn’t tried to rise. She crawled toward me, and I didn’t notice in time. A hand grabbed the ankle of my boot, yanking my leg toward her open mouth. I stabbed down in reflex, my rapier pinning her to the ground, but that did nothing; her hand still pulled at me.

For a moment, I was off balance, unable to free myself, my blade wedged in her. And that was when a zombie leapt onto my back. Teeth found the side of my neck. Another zombie came from somewhere, bowling into us. I went down, both zombies on me, trying desperately to hold off the newcomer with my hand at its throat. But its gnashing mouth drew closer, my arm bending despite all I could do. A third arrived, pulling my arm away, sinking its teeth into my hand.

I screamed at the pain, more and more teeth arriving, and when they finally tore out my throat, I welcomed the darkness.

Chapter 40

Fire and Fury

The darkness lingered, although mercifully the pain had gone.

Shouldn’t I have respawned by now? Fuck, was I coming back as a zombie?

Lira would be pissed.

Most recent respawn point: Bed, Farmhouse, near the road, 3.2 miles west of the village of Fernwick.

Closest respawn point: Kaelan’s bed, Kaelan’s bedroom, Kaelan’s house, the village of Fernwick.

Select respawn point.

Well, that was new. It was just text hovering in my mind, against a background of darkness. And a cog, incongruously hovering in one corner like one might see on a loading screen.

Lira had already set up a new point. That was prudent of her; I wouldn’t have wanted to walk naked back from the bivouac outside Taralith, four days away. But neither did I want to respawn with the girls. Not yet. Not with so many zombies here.

I’d come back naked whichever option I chose, and I was damned if I was leaving my leathers and rapier where they lay.

Now that I knew I could respawn in my house whenever the zombies killed me, it didn’t matter if I was naked or not. I’d somehow figure out a way to take a few of those fuckers with me each time I died, then respawn and go again.

Respawn Kaelan’s house.

Last time I’d woken up naked in this bed, it had been with the two girls pressing against me. It wasn’t as much fun alone, knowing there were zombies outside waiting to chew my face off.

And fuck, but that wasn’t a pleasant way to die. I’d have nightmares for weeks after this.

Attack has gained 1 rank.

Defense has gained 1 rank.

Speed has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Dagger) has gained 2 ranks.

Dual Wielding has gained 1 rank.

Well, I supposed every little bit helped.

The only problem was that I didn’t have my rapier anymore, and not a great chance of getting it back without being seen. On the other hand, I was pretty sure I was faster than the zombies. It was tempting to run there, see if I could grab it on the fly, then fight my way back to the house until they killed me again.

Rinse and repeat.

It was a crap plan as plans went, but it was a start. I opened my eyes and looked down at myself.

Yep, naked.

I’d have given anything for a pair of pants, but we’d taken all my clothes with us. The thought of being ‘tackle out’ surrounded by zombies with a biting fetish really didn’t appeal. Were there any clothes in the chest of drawers?

There were. Senna had been married before, and the drawers were full of men’s clothes. They didn’t fit too well, but I pulled on trousers and a shirt. Now I needed a weapon.

The zombies only died when their heads came off, so something with a blade. There must be an ax around somewhere for chopping wood. Where would Senna have kept such a thing?

I remembered the storeroom off the kitchen and crept downstairs. The house was blessedly empty, but I didn’t want to make any noise. There could be zombies waiting just outside.

Waiting in the storeroom was a decent hickory-handled ax with a sharp, wedge-like head. Perfect for chopping wood and the necks of zombies. I picked it up, turned, and my eye was caught by the oil lamp just inside the door.

Hadn’t the guards in Taralith said they were going to burn Rolf’s body? Weren’t the zombies dry husks, just waiting to be set on fire? I even had an info screen that could’ve told me their weaknesses if I’d bothered to use it, but I’d been a little preoccupied trying to stop my face from being eaten.

My stomach flipped over as I remembered I’d failed in that, and as the memories assailed me, I almost threw up on Senna’s stores. That would’ve been embarrassing to explain.

It took me a moment to find Senna’s reserves of oil. It was primitive stuff, mostly lumps of animal fat purified and congealed into tallow. But I just needed anything that would burn.

An industrious half-hour later, I had a new plan. I had also gained three points in crafting.

I’d relit a small fire in Senna’s hearth, hoping the zombies would ignore the smell of smoke. Then I’d melted the wax down until I had oil. This had gone into every suitable vessel I could find, with strips of her late husband’s clothing torn and stuffed into the top.

The result was eight Molotov cocktails, weapon of the anarchic masses and zombie hunters everywhere.

The ax I put upstairs, on the bed, the handle about where I expected my hand would fall when I respawned. It was an insurance policy, in case zombies ever got into the house. I didn’t want to respawn, be helpless, be eaten, and repeat ad nauseum. Immortality could be a curse as well as a blessing.

And I’d formed a real aversion to being eaten.

I took two of the Molotovs and a lantern, and climbed out of the window in the small bedroom and onto the roof. I didn’t want to risk the front door in case I was seen. I was really keen to keep zombies out of my house.

From there, I had a view into the street where I’d died. There were half a dozen zombies milling around, back to their usual mindless shuffle. It was too far to lob a cocktail, and besides, I didn’t want to risk burning my leathers. Checking it was zombie-free, I slipped down to the ground at the back of the house, then edged around the other buildings as quietly as I could. Bare feet helped.

I made my way around the backs of houses until I was close to the square. Then I set my lantern down and pulled out the first of my bombs.

It had been an herb pot of some design, the top now stuffed with a rag, and the rest filled with oil. I lit the rag from the flame of the lantern, waiting until it was burning well.

This was my first time throwing a Molotov cocktail. Marketing Executives from Boston don’t often get involved in riots and civil unrest. But then, neither did they behead friends or get their faces eaten off.

Fuck, I had to stop thinking about that.

I watched the flame carefully. It would be a little embarrassing for the thing to explode in my hand, covering me with burning oil. I supposed I could just run at the zombies if that happened, but it wasn’t an ideal strategy. At the last moment, I stepped out from behind the house, lobbed the bomb toward a likely looking collection of three zombies, and ducked back out of sight.

Then I peered around the corner in time to see the results of my plan.

It wasn’t spectacular. The homemade concoction didn’t really have enough volatility to cover a wide area in flames the way I’d pictured in my mind. But it landed about where I’d aimed, striking a zombie center mass and shattering. The flames licked at the oil, dimmed almost to nothing, then caught. I wasn’t sure if it was clothing that fed the fire or the oil that had spread, but in the space between one breath and the next, the zombie’s clothing was aflame. The fire jumped to the oil on the ground, and then to a second zombie.

At first, neither zombie noticed. Fire burned at their clothes, and they shuffled onward, not even trying to smother it. It grew as it traveled rapidly over their bodies. Their hair went up fast, their clothing smoldered and burst into flame, and the unpleasant smell of burning zombie drifted into the air.

I turned away, swallowing hard, and crouched behind the wall. When the crackling of flames died down some minutes later, I risked another look.

Both zombies were charred corpses on the floor of the street, unmoving and dead. Again. And none of the other zombies looked in the least bit fussed.

I could see my rapier. It was still sticking into the back of the zombie I’d stabbed, and that damn zombie was walking around without a care in the world. I looked at the cocktail I had left, all the zombies in proximity to Bjorn’s house, and the one with my rapier ambling about outside.

It was one of a hell of a risky plan, but in theory … it could work.

Fuck it. What was the worst that could happen, other than being burned to death or having my face eaten off again? I mean, both of those were pretty bad, but I’d just wake up in my bed. Like I always did after a nightmare.

I put flame to the cocktail, made sure it had caught well, then ran like I was being chased by all the demons of hell.

“Hey! Zombies!”

They turned, both those nearest and those some way down the street. Good, the more the merrier.

My target was the rapier-carrying zombie. I wanted that blade back if I could get it. I ran straight at her, one eye on the bomb in my hand. I’d worried it might go out with the speed of my movement, but I’d lit it well and it burned merrily. Getting hot, too.

Rapier-zombie lunged, and I’d expected it. I ducked aside, spinning beneath her arm and around behind her, grabbed the handle of my rapier, and pulled.

She spun, too, perhaps the feel of the blade reminding her where I was. And she was fast enough that my plan almost failed right then.

I danced back, blade in hand, her nails catching my borrowed shirt and ripping it open. Not nails, I saw, but claws. Either this woman had never had a manicure in her life, or the zombies were growing claws to go with their surprisingly sharp teeth. She lunged toward me again, and I took off running.

“Zombies! This way, all you nice zombies!”

Snarls and the thud of lots of feet answered my invitation.

I didn’t stop to look how many guests I had; I could hear some of them close behind me. Bjorn’s house was just there, its door opened invitingly.

I ran inside, throwing the cocktail on Bjorn’s kitchen table before it exploded in my hand. It flamed up beautifully, either more potent than the last one, or because there was no dirt to absorb the oil. Then I headed at speed for the stairs.

Zombies charged into the house behind me, oblivious to the flames. Just like they had been when they’d caught fire. I had no idea how many were inside, I was too busy staying ahead of them. I raced upstairs, looking for any window that might open like the one in Senna’s room had been. All the windows in the village were little more than holes in the walls, with shutters to keep the elements out. I ran to the back of the upstairs floor and into Bjorn’s room.

I’d hoped it would be empty. It wasn’t.

A zombie was standing in the corner, bizarrely facing the wall like it had been put there for bad behavior. When I burst in, it swung around, mouth opening in the characteristically cheerful greeting. But I’d been ready for such an eventuality, and my blade cut deeply into its neck. It wasn’t enough to take its head off completely, and the backswing cost me precious seconds.

Another zombie burst into the room behind me, claws reaching as it snarled. Again my rapier flashed, and this time, the stroke was true. I could hear more zombies in the house, and I slammed shut Bjorn’s bedroom door, not caring how much noise I made. I wanted more noise to bring the zombies farther into the house.

I could only hope the fire had taken downstairs.

There were more zombies in the hallway outside as I pulled Bjorn’s chest of drawers in front of the door. They hammered at it, claws splitting the wood, the chest of drawers vibrating with the force of their blows. I had no idea how many zombies were in the house or if they were still coming in, but I needed to hold out as long as possible. I braced the chest of drawers as best I could while they thumped on the door.

I hoped to hell that the kitchen was on fire, the flames taking hold, or all of this would be for nothing.

And then I smelled smoke. The scent began to fill the air, growing stronger, until what had been clear grew murky. I began to cough, welcoming the discomfort in my lungs. Was the floor getting warm, or was that just my imagination?

There was no letup from the zombies. They didn’t care about the fire or being trapped in a burning house. It must be hard to be afraid when you’re mindless.

I waited as long as I could until the smoke started coming in from outside, through the window. I had to leave before the thatch went up, or I’d be burned alive, too. As ways to go, that sounded like one to avoid, even if was an improvement over having my face eaten off.

At last, the flames began to crackle around me, loud enough to finally hear. I hoped the zombies would stay in the house, thinking I was still here, and that none of them could climb as well as I could. I leaped to the window, pulling myself up and through it before the zombies had beaten aside the chest of drawers.

I crouched on the back of Bjorn’s roof, away from the window, the fields before me. With any luck, they’d not seen me leave, and they were now milling around in the bedroom, aimlessly waiting for the flames to reach them. My rapier was ready just in case.

When no snarling heads emerged and the thatch was smoking hard, I slid quietly down the roof and dropped to the ground beneath. Then I snuck into the field beyond and watched Bjorn’s house burn.

There were no screams, no snarls, no pounding on the walls as desperate zombies tried to escape. Maybe they’d all simply walked out, but I didn’t think that was likely. Without a target, they’d just ambled around or even stood still, and the two I’d burned hadn’t run around screaming. They were dead, and I hoped to hell that cremation would send them onward, to whatever these people believed in as an afterlife.

It was ironic that I didn’t believe in such things, and now my personal afterlife was simply waking up and going again.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 10. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills. You have gained a Perk. You have gained an Attribute point.

Proof, if I needed it, that I’d just killed a bunch of zombies.

I pulled up the Perk list, but there were no new additions. I decided to hold on to it for now and bought another point in Agility. It was certainly the attribute of choice at present. Then I spent two points each on Archery, Dodge, and Stealth while I waited for the fire to burn out.

When Bjorn’s house had burned to a shell, I snuck back into the village. The sky was growing dark, and not just with the thickness of smoke. The sun was setting, and I didn’t fancy taking on zombies I couldn’t see. I wanted my leathers and my bow, and then I’d return tomorrow and finish what I’d started.

The street outside Bjorn’s house was empty, not a zombie in sight. That was a win. I picked up my leathers, breastplate, and bow, not forgetting to retrieve my dagger from the dismembered head of the zombie nearby. Yuck. Then I pulled back to Rolf’s forge, hiding behind it as I stripped off the trousers I’d taken from Senna’s drawers. I replaced them with my leathers, then leaned against the wall as I pulled on my boots.

“Kaelan!” a shout rang out. A woman’s voice, but it wasn’t Lira or Senna’s, thankfully. I didn’t want them anywhere near the zombies. “Kaelan, we know you’re here.”

Crouching behind the forge, I peeked past it. A group of four people were walking down the street toward me, past my house, heading for the remains of Bjorn’s.

“Come out, Kaelan!”

The woman had an ethereal, severe beauty to her face like she knew she was young and attractive but had never figured out how to smile. She wore a black dress, long brunette hair tied in a plait, with a long, thin stiletto dagger on her belt. There was a general skull adornment motif going on like she’d shopped straight out of Witches’ Weekly. Surrounding her were three large men, each wearing full plate armor in enameled black and armed to the teeth with swords, shields, and daggers.

The woman stopped in the middle of the square, looking at what was left of Bjorn’s house.

“You bastard, Kaelan!” she shouted. “Did you kill all my zombies?”

Chapter 41

Stabbings and Stealth

She hadn’t seen me, but I could clearly see her. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

Show information and weaknesses for necromancer, I thought as I pulled my bow off my shoulders and drew an arrow.

Dammit with the whole ‘none found or insufficient knowledge’ crap. All the skills I had, and I couldn’t even be sure if she knew how to ride a horse? It was bullshit.

Maybe it was a level thing. She was four levels higher than me. Maybe that was what prevented me from seeing her details.

Half-elf was interesting, though. It was the first time I’d seen someone who wasn’t human—save for the goblins. Did she have pointy ears? It also meant there were elves around somewhere, and damn, but I wanted to see an elf.

I nocked my arrow. I’d have to reveal myself to fire, but she’d have barely an instant to respond, even if she saw it coming.

At some level, it bothered me the necromancer had turned out to be a woman. Too much cultural indoctrination was making it difficult to stand, aim, and fire at the woman who had slaughtered this entire village, then sent one of my only friends after me to kill me.

But it wasn’t murder, it was an execution. Punishment for crimes committed. That was the way to think about it.

With this new mindset, I stood even as I drew back the string, my movement drawing the eye of at least one guard. But my arrow was already in the air, my precision perfect. Thanks, Agility.

Just as it arrived, she raised her arm. My arrow should’ve sailed past her wrist and struck her, but instead, it hit a circle of blue energy that manifested from nowhere and disappeared just as fast. Fuck.

Well, that explained the stupidly high armor class when she was basically only wearing a ball gown.

Another arrow was on my string, and I hadn’t even been conscious of drawing it. Of course: my Arrow Rain rapid-fire Perk. It seemed a shame not to use it, so I fired at the guard closest, then reached for a third.

This time, my arrow found its mark. The guard looked down at where it protruded from his chest, staggered back a half step, and my next arrow thudded in beside it. He was dead when he hit the ground.

“Shields!” yelled one of the two remaining guards. I held my fire as they covered themselves and their mistress with the large black shields they carried. There was no point wasting arrows on those.

“That wasn’t very nice, Kaelan,” the necromancer called.

Nice? Like Rolf-the-zombie-assassin levels of nice?

There was a swirl of black energy, like tendrils of darkest mist, and the guard I’d shot twice slowly regained his feet. My arrows were still embedded in his chest, and they’d definitely penetrated his armor. Had she zombified one of her own guards?

“Get him!” she screamed.

I supposed it wasn’t the brightest idea to hang around gaping.

All three guards — or two guards and Zombie Guard — ran at me. I released the arrow I had nocked but didn’t hang around to see it splinter on their shields. Instead, I ducked around the back of Rolf’s forge, looping my bow across as I ran.

I had choices. Before me, the fields led to the woods, but the ones closest had been harvested. Only the cornfield behind Bjorn’s house would offer cover, and I’d be exposed long before I reached it. I could go for the woods and escape, but I was warming up fast to the notion of killing that necromancer, woman or not.

Besides, I had no points in Chivalry, and so long as Drakos insisted on using women to do his dirty work, I wasn’t sure I wanted any, either.

I ran behind Rolf’s forge, coming out the far end. Another glance past the end of the building showed that the necromancer hadn’t moved. It was tempting to go for her, while her guards were distracted chasing through where I’d just been.

Too tempting. I ran straight toward her, pulling my rapier and dagger as I did. Her magical shield might stop my arrows, but I fancied my chances blade against blade when all she had was her dagger.

She drew it anyway, waiting for me with a rather bored look on her face. Did this woman ever smile?

Behind me came a cry from the guards, letting me know they’d seen the danger. With any luck, she’d be dead before they arrived.

“I’m going to enjoy having you as my personal zombie,” she said as I closed at speed. I was ten paces away, and she still hadn’t moved. Maybe it was possible she could resurrect me as a zombie, and that was a concerning thought. Would I still respawn if she zombified me?

It was too late to worry about that now. Anyway, if I killed her, the point was moot.

Yet there was something amiss. She seemed too indifferent to her impending death. My blade slashed down, my weight carefully balanced to not overextend like I’d told Senna when we’d sparred with sticks. Caution at first until I knew what the trap was.

Her dagger stabbed into my back.

I grunted in pain, blinking as I tried to work out what had happened. She’d been there, right before me, and now she was behind me.

Her other slid around my throat, pulling me against her as she twisted the knife.

“Such a pretty zombie you’ll make,” she said as my vision faded.

And for the second time that day, the world went dark.

I awoke in my bed. No choice of respawns this time. I suppose because my bed was both the most recent and the closest.

My hand rested comfortingly on the shaft of Senna’s hickory-handled axe.

But how much help would it be against a necromancer who could disappear and reappear whenever she wanted?

Fuck, I wanted that Ability. I could kill Drakos easily with a power like that.

There was a scream of rage from outside, words too distant and unintelligible to make out. But the necromancer seemed pissed. Good.

It was also confirmation of something I’d been wondering: I was respawning faster than I had when I first arrived in this world. Initially, Lira had had enough time to gather my armor between each fight with Drakos, and that could only mean minutes had passed. But now it was barely seconds. Whether that was a factor of familiarity or level didn’t much matter; it was an improvement, and I’d take it.

I dressed again in more of Senna’s late husband’s clothes, rapidly running out of tasteful choices, then took the window exit onto the roof. I stayed low, the late evening light hopefully giving me some cover. It was tempting to peek up the road from my elevated perspective, but the last thing I wanted was for Stabby to figure out which house was mine. I hadn’t worked out how to kill her yet, and a necromancer in my bedroom didn’t sound like a good time.

Shame, really. She was kind of hot, but only in a psychopathic dominatrix way, and that wasn’t really my kink.

I crept behind the white houses, dark timber frames looking darker still as the daylight slowly turned to dusk, the same route I’d taken before, keeping my eyes peeled for zombies. Had all of them burned to death in Bjorn’s house? If so, my plan had worked better than I’d ever dreamed. Make a loud noise, zombies come running, zombies don’t fear fire, zombies hang around and get barbecued. No wonder the necro was pissed; it couldn’t be an instant process to kill a whole village then raise them as zombies, and I’d wiped them out in the space of an hour.

All except for the new one she’d made, and I could see him shuffling next to her. I gripped my trusty wood ax. I had to take his head off, kill her two other guards, and then it would just be me and Stabby.

My plan ended there. I still had no idea how to kill her when she had that magical shield and could move so damn fast.

The guards were smashing in doors and searching houses. I could hear them working their way down the street, looking for me.

“Find him!” she screamed, right on cue, her voice echoing through the quiet village. “Find him, you useless bastards! He can’t have teleported far. The temple was right next to the courtyard!”

That was interesting. It made a certain sense, too, from their perspective. Especially when she could actually teleport. It certainly explained how she’d been before me and then behind me without seeming to take the usual steps required in between. Drakos had claimed Lira was a necromancer when I’d kept re-emerging, and now he’d sent his necromancer after me. Maybe he thought she’d be able to kill me permanently. If so, the joke was on them.

But as fun as this insight into my enemies’ thinking was, I had guards to kill. I slipped back down behind the row of houses, listening for the guard who was searching this street. With the amount of noise he was making as he smashed doors in and clomped through houses, he was easy to pinpoint. They were making a house-to-house search, very Gestapo, and all I needed to do was hide in the next house and wait for him. With any luck, they figured me to be unarmed—as far as they knew, my rapier, bow, and everything I owned that was sharp was lying in the street at Stabby’s feet.

I entered through the rear door of the next house down from where I could hear the guard. It was a smaller house than mine, just the one room downstairs. It didn’t offer a decent hiding place, but maybe there was an option on the floor above. I padded up the stairs, counting the steps. There was a small washroom and a bedroom; I closed the door of the bedroom, then hid in the bathroom opposite with my ax and waited.

Ax man hidden in the bathroom. We were back to horror films, but this time I was the scary one.

The guard smashed in the front door a few minutes later. I was quite sure he could’ve just opened it if he’d wanted to, but Stabby’s guards seemed to like smashing things. It didn’t take him long to ascertain the room below was empty, and I heard the heavy tread of his boots on the stairs.

I gripped my ax, loosened my shoulders, and readied myself.

With any luck, he’d see the closed bedroom door, assume I was behind it, and be looking that way and not toward me. But that was just an added distraction. I counted each step as he climbed the staircase, and he only had three more to go.

Thump. Two. Thump. One. Thump.

I jumped out from my hiding place, the ax already swinging. “Here’s Johnny!”

He didn’t have a second to respond, and the blade caught him high in the side of the neck, exactly where I’d intended. It cut deeply, the force of my blow throwing him against the wall of the house. He slumped, his neck half-severed, blood everywhere.

You have gained a new skill: Weapon (Ax). Weapon (Ax) is now level 1.

Weapon (Ax) has gained 1 rank.

Great, but axes weren’t my style. Too slow, too unwieldy, and far too damn messy.

Gritting my teeth, I chopped down again. This was the bit I’d had to prepare myself for, but it was either take his head off now or when I fought him as a zombie. He was already dead; it didn’t matter to him. Blood sprayed everywhere, and I was covered in it by the time his head bounced back down the stairs. Fucking disgusting.

But that was one less guard. I relieved him of his sword belt, tying it around my waist instead. It came with a long sword and dagger. His boots I eyed wistfully, but they looked too large, and I was quieter barefoot. Besides, I didn’t want to remain any longer than I had to in this blood-coated hallway.

The dagger had given me an idea. It wasn’t a good idea, but it might just be enough.

First, I had to deal with the other guard. And Stabby’s new zombie minion, come to that.

Then I was going to see if I couldn’t beat her at her own game.

Chapter 42

Guile and Gamble

Damn, I wish I had my bow. It would be so much easier to take out a guard at range then chop off his head before she knew he was down.

Yet I didn’t need my bow; I just needed any bow. I slipped out the rear of the house, running fast and silently on bare feet as I made my way through the village, keeping to the common ground that ran behind the houses and avoiding the streets. The other guard was happily smashing down doors across the way, the sounds quieting with distance. Stabby was standing with her zombie guard in the middle of the village, occasionally screaming at the still-living guard to find me faster. I wondered if she was too enraged to notice her third guard had never returned.

I slipped in through the back door of Therin’s house. When I’d been here before, he’d only shown me the one bow, but I figured there was a good chance he’d have more hiding away—his own, for starters. And there it was, mounted on the wall beside the staircase. I lifted it down. It was a beautiful bow, crafted from yew and reinforced with horn. Yet it made me think: it was straight-limbed. I was yet to see a recurve bow in Valorah. If I could find a fletcher willing to experiment, building a recurve bow would give me a significant advantage. How difficult could it be once I explained the principle to them?

Helping myself to a quiver of his arrows, I considered wrapping a few of them in oil-soaked cloth. But Stabby’s zombie guard was wearing armor, and it was now getting so dark that a lantern would pull them to me. Without a flame, lighting the cloth would be impractical, while a moving light would make it obvious where I was. All the houses were white wattle-and-daub; the lantern would reflect off everything.

But maybe I could use that to my advantage.

I spent a few productive minutes prepping a half-dozen fire arrows, then grabbed two lanterns from Therin’s house. I slipped out the back, crept to the corner, and sneaked a look down the street once more.

Not much time had passed since I went into Therin’s house, and Stabby still loitered outside Bjorn’s house with Zombie Guard, who was standing so still it was eerie. Her one remaining still-alive guard was walking up toward her.

“Where’s the other one?” she said, her voice traveling clearly in the quiet. The ‘other one’? Did she not even know their names? That was almost funny.

“He went to search the houses on that street.”

“Go and find him. He should be back by now.”

It was almost a gift the way she kept sending them off alone, but I wasn’t going to say no. Perhaps she thought they were too armored and competent for me, and maybe toe-to-toe they were. I focused hard. Show information, dumb guard.

There we go! So it was a level thing. A half-orc—that was new. I had no particular desire to meet orcs. As for the rest of his stats … this guy couldn’t be more of a tank if he were rolling along on tracks. Same level as me with way more Health, and an armor class explained by his massive spikey shield and intimidating black plate armor.

These guys would take a pounding and keep coming. Maybe I’d got lucky with my arrows through the chest of that first guard. But then, my first shot had been a total surprise. Backstab kicking in? A lucky crit? It was difficult to know when I never saw damage numbers, but my ax blow had also been without warning.

It made sense. An arrow in the brain tended to kill everyone—zombies aside—irrespective of how much Health they had. So all I had to do was ensure my attacks came from stealth or were inherently lethal.

I ran back down behind the houses, but this time, I wasn’t so lucky.

“There!” I heard her shout, and I didn’t need to see the finger that was likely pointing my way. I ran faster, trading stealth for speed, then dropped one of the lanterns behind the next house I passed. Let’s see what that guard’s intelligence of five equated to in practical terms.

I ducked around the corner of the neighboring house, shuttering the other lantern I had, then for good measure, stuffing it safely behind a barrel so that the glow couldn’t be seen. Dusk had properly fallen now, and the only light pollution came from the tapestry of stars already visible in the sky above. The lantern I’d left as bait reflected off the nearby wall with a pleasant orange shine.

Dumb Guard came clanking along, shield ready and sword drawn, drawing closer to where I was hidden. His pace quickened just about when I estimated he should be able to see the reflected light of my bait. He was going to pass right by me, and I pressed my back to the wall, my ax readied just in case. But I needn’t have worried. He jogged past—maybe full speed in that armor—his sword held high, then leaped around the corner and swung it down where he’d anticipated I’d be crouched and terrified.

His sword clanged into the side of the house, and then he froze as if stunned by my inexplicable absence.

I had all the time I needed to step out, aim, and swing hard for the point where what little neck he had was visible just below the back of his helmet. He dropped as my ax severed his spine, his armor-clad bulk crashing down and smashing my lantern. Dammit, I’d still had plans for that.

Grimacing, I once more set about the distasteful task of removing his head preemptively from his body. There was no proof that this would stop Stabby from raising him, but losing their heads definitely killed the zombies, so it was a working theory.

My ax gained another couple of ranks, but I ignored it. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to be rid of the weapon. Stealth gained a rank, too; that was more useful.

“Guards!” Stabby’s shout carried a sense of agitation. I hoped she was beginning to feel alone.

I retrieved the lantern I had left and slunk away, only to pause as more clanking came toward me. Was this a chance to relieve Stabby of her zombie bodyguard one-on-one, or had she come, too? I wasn’t ready to face her again. If I died and respawned, losing these weapons, I’d be out of options.

The darkness was now an impediment more than a boon. Something told me the zombies could see perfectly fine, while my vision was limited to only a few feet. Taking this guy down was going to be a real challenge. I either had to get close enough to hack his head off or somehow get fire inside his armor.

Simple in theory, yet I had no idea how to do either.

Staying behind my corner, I watched as Zombie Guard clanked around to where I’d killed his former compatriot. There he stopped. But he wasn’t mindless, like the run-of-the-mill zombies I’d killed in Bjorn’s house, he was actively looking for me. Then again, she’d controlled Rolf from miles away, so there had to be more to her necromancy than merely resurrection. Regardless, his head came up as he scanned for me. His shield wasn’t covering him, and his sword was held pointed down. I wouldn’t get a better chance than this.

I drew one of my cloth-wrapped arrows, lighting the tip from the lantern, then came out from behind my corner, bow drawn. He was already coming toward me, having either seen the glow or heard me. I released my arrow anyway, by necessity firing past his shield that covered much of his torso. It caught him high on his shoulder, punching a small way through his armor, but he didn’t even flinch. The flame burned ineffectually, snuffed by his plate mail.

Dammit, I could shoot arrows into him until I ran out and it wouldn’t do any good. I could trail fire across the floor, and he’d just lumber straight through it in that armor. Besides, this zombie was too fresh to have fully dried out and become a walking pyre-in-waiting. Stabby wouldn’t let him fall for the Bjorn-house-barbecue trick, and if he were aware of me, I’d never have the chance to get my ax into his neck.

But what if I killed Stabby? Would he die then, his metaphorical strings cut? I was going to have to face her sooner or later. It was worth a try.

I only had the one plan. I’d been wracking my brains for another way of defeating her, but with her magical shield that blocked my arrows and her insta-teleport to plunge her dagger into my back, options were limited.

Oh well. Worst-case scenario, I died and tried again.

I smashed my lantern into the barrels nearby, spilling oil that caught and began to burn. Maybe it would distract Zombie Guard long enough to buy me a few more seconds with his mistress.

Then I turned and ran between the houses and back to the street, looping my bow as I did and drawing my rapier and dagger.

I didn’t need long. If this somehow worked, it would be over in a blink—so to speak.

“Necromancer!” I yelled as I ran toward her. She was forty paces away, a silhouette against the remains of Bjorn’s house that was still glowing some distance behind her, the scent of burning thick in the air. She turned to face me, standing still exactly as she had last time. People were creatures of habit … I hoped.

“This time I will kill you!” I shouted as I ran. I wanted her distracted, acting on instinct. Thirty paces.

“I normally let my zombies decay,” she said as she drew her dagger. “But you, I’m going to keep fresh. I’m going to make you serve me in ways of which you could only dream.”

Did she mean what I thought she meant? If so … euugh. I no longer had any compunction about killing this woman. I was only ten paces away, coming on fast, my rapier held where even in the dark she couldn’t miss seeing it.

Five paces. I readied for my strike, my blade held high for the blow I was obviously going to aim at her head.

Two paces. One.

I didn’t even bother to swipe at her. Instead, I jabbed back hard with the dagger in my other hand, an all-or-nothing gamble, a blind shot aimed for where I hoped she would be.

Her dagger sank into my spine even as I felt mine stab through her chest.

She gasped in pain. It was the last sound I heard as once again my vision faded to darkness.

Chapter 43

Treasures and Text

Had it worked?

It was the first thought I had when I woke up in my bed.

Was the necromancer dead? Was her unkillable zombie guard dead? Deader? Dead again?

I’d need to sneak out and⁠—

Stealth has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Ax) has gained 2 ranks.

Dagger has gained 1 rank.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 11. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills.

—Or not. That seemed pretty conclusive.

I pulled on the dregs of clothing left in the drawers, and grateful that there was no mirror nearby to catch sight of how ridiculous I looked, I once more snuck out of the window at the back of Senna’s house. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, but hiding my respawn location just made good sense. Especially as every single weapon I owned was now out in the middle of the street.

Yet all was quiet.

Slipping down to the ground, I made my way along the houses to where I’d killed Stupid the Guard. He was where I left him—both parts of him. His plate mail was probably worth some money, but getting it off him and then lugging it to somewhere I could sell it really wasn’t high on my fun list.

It was still quiet. Either Zombie Guard was no more, or he was waiting for me somewhere, ready for a jump-scare and to tear me limb from limb. It added a certain edge to playing hide-and-seek amongst the houses.

But I couldn’t resist anymore. I had to know.

Tiptoeing to a corner that would give me sight of the street, I gave a quick glance.

Dammit! The zombie guard was still up a hundred paces away, just standing there. At least his back was to me.

Then I saw the necromancer. She was lying on the ground, right where I’d stabbed her. My knife was still in her chest … which was going up and down as she struggled to breathe. She was still alive, but not for long with that wound.

Maybe Zombie Guard would die when she did, or maybe he wouldn’t. But even if he killed me on this respawn, I had questions for her. If she could still manage to talk.

She didn’t look up until I was standing right over her, and the zombie didn’t move.

“What the hell … are you wearing?” she gasped around a pained breath.

Hopefully, those weren’t going to be her last words.

I knelt down next to her. “I take it Drakos sent you.”

She didn’t try to reply, which was confirmation.

“Did you know he was sending you to your death?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. A little division in the ranks never hurt, and I wondered if she’d respond to the provocation.

“That bastard … never tells me … anything.” She gave a pained gasp, blood on her lips, and I knew she didn’t have long.

“Why did you follow him then?” Past-tense. I figured she wouldn’t have missed it.

“No choice … have I?”

That was interesting. “There’s always a choice.” Another provocation. Folks always like to talk when they can explain how you’re wrong.

She gave a half-laugh that quickly became a pained gasp. “Morvak would never … tolerate … disobedience.”

“Who is Morvak?”

She smiled, her face looking almost serene, as if asleep, save for the blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth.

My attention was drawn by the clanking of armor, but the zombie guard wasn’t coming this way. He’d collapsed in the road. And when I looked back at the necromancer, her eyes had glazed over. The smile was still in place.

Dammit. So much for information. I’d hope for more than just a name, one that Lira could probably have given me. Still, I’d ask her about Morvak when I saw her next.

It was time to go back to the girls.

I gathered up my belongings, less worried about stealth. My original leathers were looking a little worse for wear, tears and rips from too many zombie teeth, but they were a vast improvement over the bottom-of-the-drawer offerings. I had two bows now, both masterwork when I examined them, but the one I’d taken from Therin’s house had a slightly higher speed. I looped both of them around my neck.

A quick check of the daggers I’d taken from the guards showed no improvement over my own, but I took another anyway, along with a second sheath for my belt. I could always give one to Senna. Their swords were too heavy to suit my style, and their shields were enormous. Maybe it was worth returning here with a cart and taking all their armor to Taralith to sell, but it wasn’t a priority.

I returned to the necromancer. If there was anything worth taking, it would be on her, and I’d been saving it until last.

Her dagger was long, the blade thin and double-edged. It looked like it would break from one good parry, but it would be lethal for backstabs, even if the decorative skull motif raised a moral question. Was it worse being stabbed to death from behind with a dagger adorned with a skull or without one? To be fair, when it had happened to me, twice, it hadn’t felt any different than, say, having Drakos cave my chest in. A little faster, if anything.

I shrugged and pulled up its stats.

Weapon: Marisa’s Stiletto. Type: Dagger. Quality: Magic +1. Attack 5. Speed 12. Puncturing. Bleeding. Backstab multiplier.

My eyebrows rose into my hairline and I whistled through my teeth. A magical dagger! And an absolutely lethal one, judging from all its attributes. It went on my belt in pride of place, my own replacing the one I’d taken from the guard. Hopefully, the thin blade would be strong enough to use to parry given its magical enchantments, for I didn’t want it broken before I got a chance to use it. Something else to ask Lira. I wish I was able to see how strong it was.

Error. Item durability hidden. See Settings.

I blinked. There were settings? Why had no one told me there were settings?

Show settings.

Nothing happened.

Adjust settings.

Nothing.

I thought for a while. Something was niggling at the back of my mind. Something I’d seen recently.

That damn cog! When the screen had popped up for my respawn location, there’d been a cog in the corner! I’d thought it was like a loading symbol, but why would anything need to load?

The only question was how to access it again without dying near a respawn point that wasn’t my recent one.

Focusing hard, I imagined the respawn message I’d seen and willed it into view.

The cog appeared in the corner, along with a new message:

Set respawn point? Y/N.

Yes.

Choose default respawn point:

Temple of Kaelan, Norathil City, Valorah.

Bed, Farmhouse, near the road, 3.2 miles west of the village of Fernwick.

Kaelan’s bed, Kaelan’s bedroom, Kaelan’s house, village of Fernwick. (Current).

Bivouac, copse of trees, field, 2.9 miles northwest of Taralith.

That was cool … and good to know. For now, I left it as it was. Free of zombies, Fernwick was safe, and as default respawns went, it would suffice. Then I focused again, bringing it up once more.

Set respawn point? Y/N.

Access settings.

A new screen appeared, and I blinked at some of the messages, then lost my focus. Had I just seen what I thought I’d just seen?

I focused once more. Access settings.

Settings:

Respawn with equipment: off.

Show damage numbers: off.

Show item durability: off.

Show health bars (enemies): off.

Show health bars (allies): off.

Show compass: off.

Status messages (for injuries): On. Delayed.

Status messages (other): On. Delayed.

Hide skills: None selected.

I stared at the top option.

All. This. Damn. Time.

Set respawn with equipment ‘on’.

Level 14 required.

Dammit! But at least I’d be able to, and in only three more levels. I could wait that long.

The rest I wasn’t too bothered about. I turned the compass on—there was no level requirement for that—but it sat at the top of my vision, and it was as distracting as fuck. I quickly turned it off again.

The rest were the same. There might be a time and a place to show health bars or item durability, but I didn’t want them distracting me. I checked the durability of my new dagger, and it showed 78/79. Good enough for now; I’d keep an eye on it. The rest of my equipment was as worn as it looked, and verifying it with durability turned on told me nothing my eyes couldn’t see for themselves. My bow was fine, my dagger in good shape, and my leathers badly in need of repair.

Status messages could be on, off, or delayed; I figured the ‘delayed’ thing meant they waited until a suitable opportunity, and for the most part, I’d been quite happy with the timing.

What I wondered most of all was what else I didn’t know about the rules of this world, and how the hell to access it all.

And why it was as it was. That was a mystery in itself. This wasn’t a game, so why was it presenting like one?

Shaking my head, I turned back to my examination of the necromancer’s gear.

She had ornate wrist cuffs, black with white enameled swirls engraved upon them. I remembered how she’d deflected my arrow and focused on them next. Show information Wrist Cuffs.

Armor: Marisa’s Cuffs. Type: Arm Guard. Quality: Magic +1. Armor Class +1. Defense +1. Adaptive.

I was disappointed there was no shield capability—that must have been a spell she knew—but at least it was another magic item. It was no coincidence these also belonged to ‘Marisa’; I now knew the name of the woman I’d killed. I unclipped the cuffs; they looked too small for me but would fit one of the girls. I pulled off my own arm guard and tried one on anyway, only to see it enlarge before my eyes until it went snugly over my leather jacket. Looked good, too. I put the other one on, and it also resized to fit me perfectly. Perhaps that’s what ‘adaptive’ meant.

I still hadn’t discovered how she’d teleported behind me. Maybe it was a spell, one I could only dream of learning, but it was worth checking all her gear. Show information Dress.

Clothing: Marisa’s Dress. Type: Clothing. Quality: Fine.

Not that, then. A ring on her finger caught my eye.

Jewelry: Marisa’s Ring. Type: Ring. Quality: Magic. +10 mana.

I pulled it off and slipped it on my own finger; it didn’t resize like the cuffs had, but then it didn’t have the ‘adaptive’ attribute. It only fit my pinkie. I pulled up my character sheet, and sure enough, under Armor Class, I had a new entry: mana. That was pretty cool, not that I had anything to spend it on.

That only left her boots.

Clothing: Marisa’s Boots. Type: Clothing. Quality: Magic. Agility +1. Speed +1. Blink, 3/day.

Jackpot. I pulled one off. She had dainty little feet, and these boots would never fit me, but I took off one of my own boots and tentatively stuck my toes in. Nothing; no adaptive re-size. Dammit, they would’ve been perfect.

I sighed, put my boot back on, and checked if she had anything else. I almost missed the pouch Marisa had sequestered beneath her belt, and when I upended it into my palm, gold coins spilled out. I did a count: 250 of them, amid a few silvers and coppers. The number of gold pieces was oddly specific, as though it was a payment. For my head, most likely. Wasn’t I worth more than that?

And that was all. Quite a nice little pile of loot.

The dagger I’d keep, and the boots could go to whichever of my girls they fit best. Senna had the smaller feet, and the thought of her being able to blink out of trouble was immensely reassuring. The mana ring I’d give to Lira; it did me no good.

It was time to return to the farmhouse where I’d left them. It would take a while in this darkness.

Collecting everything up, I rose and looked about Fernwick for what was probably the last time. It was a tragedy what had happened here, and it wouldn’t have happened were it not for me. But I’d laid to rest all the villagers that had been zombified and killed the necromancer who had slain them. There was some comfort in that. Some comfort also that there’d been fewer zombies than there had been villages, and that meant some had to have escaped. There’s been no zombie children, and that was a blessed relief. I didn’t need those nightmares.

Still, it was over.

Congratulations! Quest: Fernwick Village has been completed.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 12. You have 12 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills. You have an unspent Perk. You have gained a Perk. You have gained an Ability Point. You may use God Power twice per day. You may select a second Class.

Wow, two levels from this trip, and another daily use of my God Power.

Then I blinked, staring at the message as it faded away. A second class?

Hell, I hadn’t even acquired a first one.

Chapter 44

Class and Candor

It took me over an hour to find my way back to the farmhouse in the dark, tripping over brambles and bouncing off trees. It didn’t help that my vision was full of information screens for much of the way.

Level 12 had added some new Perks:

Combat-Oriented:

Riposte: After a successful parry, follow up with a counter-attack for bonus damage.

Dual Wielding: Increases effectiveness when wielding two weapons at once.

Non-Combat:

Advanced Herbalist: Craft potent healing potions and antidotes from mid-tier ingredients.

Merchant’s Friend: Access to special wares or rare items from certain traders.

I looked long and hard at Merchant’s Friend. There were likely magic items to be found, but I wasn’t awash with gold. I could always choose it later. Riposte and Dual Wielding would no doubt be useful, but I was managing with my skills just fine so far.

In the end, I picked up Battle Awareness from the earlier level Perks, giving me a chance to evade attacks from behind. The memory of Marisa’s blade piercing my spine was a great motivator.

I turned my eye to my attributes and the point I had in hand. Strength wasn’t the focus, and though my Fortitude was low, I had few concerns about dying. Agility would keep me alive just as well, boosting my speed, but I’d spent my last point there, and now my eye fell to Intelligence. But before I made that decision, there was the matter of a class.

Could it be as simple as choosing one?

Show available classes.

Wow. There were … thirty-three of them. Everything from an Alchemist to a Witch, with many I’d never ever dreamed of.

Show information ‘Mystic’ class. I had no idea what that was.

Mystic: Master of illusion magic, mind tricks, and manipulation over raw power.

Cool, but that wasn’t for me. It was disappointing there wasn’t more information, just a one-liner from which to decide. I checked out a few of the other classes, and it was much the same. One-line summaries.

The strength-based classes were out. I was never going to be an effective Barbarian. The arcane spellcasters held an allure, but I didn’t want to have to spend years buried in dusty tomes or committing to a class I just couldn’t use. Until I understood how magic worked, it wasn’t a sensible choice to make. There was too much I didn’t know about this world.

Assassin was too on the nose. Warlock and Necromancer were out because I liked my soul where it was. I might be an atheist, but that didn’t mean I was prepared to compromise on basic decency or find myself enslaved to a demon. I ignored some of the more esoteric suggestions, like Psion, Inquisitor, and Artificer. And no one, absolutely no one, wanted me to become a Bard.

The Ranger was appealing. It played to my dual-wielding archery approach. The Druid also caught my eye.

But what I really wanted wasn’t there.

Wait … was I limited to just these choices? I was a god, wasn’t I? Did I have to just play by the rules? Rules I didn’t even understand.

Create new class. For a while nothing happened, then just as I was about to select Ranger and go for it, a new message appeared:

Enter parameters of new class.

My heart skipped a beat. It was possible! But how to enter parameters? Surely, it would reject anything too imbalanced.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Devise a new class with strengths in ranged, dual-wielding, and stealth. That seemed like a good place to start, but I wanted to push the boat out, see what it would allow. Add the ability to inherently blend arcane magic. I couldn’t resist throwing magic into the mix. Maybe it would even give me a chance to use my new mana ring.

I held my breath. Reality seemed to shift as it tried to accommodate my request, the air rippling around me like a wave of force was pushing out in all directions. The trees nearby shimmered as it passed. Then a new message appeared.

New Class created: Veilstrider.

Whoa, awesome. Show information ‘Veilstrider’ class.

Veilstrider: Combining the fluidity of archery and dual-wielding with a subtle arcane edge, controlling the battlefield from the shadows.

Fucking perfect. I was in. Choose class: Veilstrider.

You have gained a new Class: Veilstrider.

Your levels have been converted. You have gained 12 levels in Class: Veilstrider.

You have gained access to new Abilities. You have two new Abilities.

You have gained access to new Perks. You have two new Class Perks.

It was like Christmas. Eagerly, I pulled up the Ability list.

Available Veilstrider Abilities:

Shadow Strike: Attack from stealth with an empowered melee or ranged attack, dealing additional damage.

Veilshot: Fire an arrow that phases through obstacles, ignoring a proportion of armor.

Smoke Bomb: Drop a cloud of smoke, reducing enemies' ability to detect you for 10 seconds.

Veil Bind: Trap an enemy in shadowy tendrils, holding them in place for 3 seconds.

Shadow Dance: Rapidly attack multiple enemies in quick succession, dealing reduced damage with each hit.

Darkshot: Fire a magical arrow that creates a zone of darkness, reducing visibility for all enemies within.

Woah. Those were really cool. I wanted all of them, but I could only choose two. Veilshot would help me with armored enemies like Marisa’s guards, so that was in. Between Veil Bind and Shadow Dance, it was a tough decision, but I was already fast, and the ability to restrain someone, if only for three seconds, could make all the difference. I chose Veilshot and Veil Bind, and pulled up my new class Perks:

Available Veilstrider Perks:

Shadow's Embrace: Increases stealth and bonus damage when attacking from stealth.

Fleet of Foot: Movement speed slightly increased.

Night Vision: Improved sight in low-light conditions, allowing better accuracy in dark environments.

Piercing Arrows: Ranged attacks ignore a proportion of the target's armor.

Silent Feet: You make less noise while moving, further increasing stealth effectiveness.

Veil Resistance: Increases resistance to magical detection.

Phantom Strike: Small chance to deal a second strike after a melee attack.

Dual Evasion: Increases the chance to dodge attacks when dual-wielding.

Now I was regretting spending a Perk on Battle Awareness, though it was still one I wanted. I had one Perk in hand from hitting level 12, plus two class Perks. Could I use the normal Perk to buy class Perks? There was only one way to find out.

Night Vision was my first choice. If I was going to be stealthy in shadows, I had to be able to see. I purchased it immediately, not sure whether it would use a class Perk or a normal Perk. The woods around me lightened at once as though it were merely a murky evening and not the dead of night. Instead of being able to see only two or three paces, now I could see clearly for twenty, and for another twenty beyond that it was only slightly worse. Awesome.

I added Silent Feet to my list of new Perks and blinked as the sound of my footsteps just … vanished. It was quite disconcerting, something I’d have to get used to, but it would sure come in useful. It also added two ranks to my Stealth skill.

Now for the real test. Could I purchase another class Perk?

Having already acquired Veilshot, I could do without Piercing Arrows for now. Veil Resistance looked important, but I hadn’t yet encountered too many mages. It was tough to know the balance between having an Ability by the time I needed it and wasting the chance to get one I could use now. Phantom Strike looked cool, but the chance was only small. It made more sense to focus on my dodge and defense. Buy new Perk: Dual Evasion.

Dual Evasion requires Agility 18.

That wasn’t a problem. I threw my attribute point into Agility, glad I’d held on to spending it, then purchased the skill.

You have gained a new Perk: Dual Evasion.

Awesome. I could use my normal Perks to purchase class ones.

Veilstrider had given me mana, and my ring new ring was adding to it. I pulled up my character sheet, reviewing my new stats and all the changes I’d made, even mentally clicked on the ‘more’ button to see the full list of skills I now had:

There was no doubt about it: I was a badass. I took a moment to pull up Settings and used the ‘hide skill’ option to get rid of Weapon (Ax). I wasn’t planning on needing it again, and while it would still be in my skills, it wouldn’t figure on the sheet. Sex (Women) also went. I didn’t need a skill to tell me when Lira and Senna were happy, and it was taking up a slot in the top half.

Damn, it looked good having a Class at long last. I had another one I could choose, too, and it was really tempting to go with Sorcerer—I’d always wanted to throw fireballs around like there was no tomorrow—but there was a good chance I’d start at level one, and there was little point shooting low-powered magic missiles (or whatever this world offered) when my Veilstrider arrows were more powerful. I’d have to give it some thought.

For now, I needed to get back to the girls. With my Night Vision, the journey was a lot simpler, and it wasn’t long before the farmhouse was in sight.

It was quiet as I approached, no lights within, not a whisper to suggest the girls were there. Had something happened to them, or were they just hiding like I’d requested?

My footsteps were silent, even on the hard earth of the ground before the house, and I listened hard. There came a small sound from within, then nothing. I figured if there’d been trouble the noises would’ve been louder, and I tried the door. It was barred from within.

I rapped my knuckles against it. “It’s me, girls.”

Hurried footsteps sounded on the floor within, then the bar was shunted aside, the door pulled open. Lira was in the doorway, Senna busy lighting a lantern in the room beyond, and in no time, we were bathed in light. I blinked as my Night Vision took the full brunt of it, dazzling me for a second.

“You were ages!” Lira said as I stepped inside. “When you didn’t come back, we thought the worst had happened!”

I grimaced. “You’re not far off.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. I’d been so distracted with my new class and abilities that I’d hardly given thought to the need to tell Senna what had happened to the village she’d lived in. I turned to face her, and she froze as she saw my expression. Lira gasped beside me, her eyes taking in the state of my ripped and torn leathers where numerous zombies had bitten chunks out of me.

“Fernwick village is no more,” I said to Senna. She gasped, one hand covering her mouth. Beside me, Lira paled, reaching behind her for a chair for support. My delivery had been blunt, but there was no sugar-coating such news. “Drakos sent a necromancer after me. That was who sent Rolf to Taralith.”

Senna wavered, and for a moment, I thought she was going to faint. “All those people.”

“Yes,” I said. All those people … dead because of me.

Lira sat down heavily in the chair. She looked up at me in sorrow, but though she never said it or even looked accusatory, I knew what she was thinking: ‘you could’ve prevented this if you’d killed Drakos’. Like I wasn’t fully aware.

“I’m sorry,” I said to them both. It was woefully inadequate.

“And the necromancer?” Lira asked.

“Dead. Along with …”

“Along with all the zombies they’d raised,” Lira finished for me, realization in her eyes.

“Yes.”

Another gasp from Senna. “Is … is that what happened to … to your leathers?”

I looked down at myself. In the light of the lantern, the damage looked even worse. My trousers in particular had fared poorly, while my breastplate had protected most of my jacket, save for my sleeves. I shrugged. “There were quite a few of them.”

“But you’re alright?” Lira said, waving her hand across my leathers and restoring them to their pristine state with a glow of green magic. “No wounds? No lasting damage?”

She said it with concern, but all I felt was guilt. Here I was, hale and well, while everyone in Fernwick was dead.

I turned away, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m fine.” Aside from a few face-eating nightmares I would no doubt soon relive, I hadn’t suffered. It felt like I should’ve suffered more. It if wasn’t for me, they’d still be alive.

Senna took a step forward. “Don’t blame yourself, Kaelan. You didn’t do this, Drakos did.”

“Yes,” Lira said, with vehemence. “It’s Drakos who is responsible.” Again, I heard the underlying blame. Drakos was responsible, and Drakos had sent Marisa, but Drakos wouldn’t have been able to if I’d killed him already.

“I’ll make Drakos pay,” I growled, and it sounded like a vow because it was.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Lira agreed, reminding me again of all that was at stake. As if I could ever forget.

Pulling out the magic boots I’d taken from Marisa, I dropped them on the kitchen table. “These are for you, Senna. They should let you blink around any attacker. Lira should be able to show you how to use them.”

Senna frowned in confusion, glancing at Lira, then back at me. “Blink?”

I waved a hand. “Like a teleport. One moment you’re there, the next you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet. She stared wide-eyed at the boots. “You took them from the necromancer?”

Dammit, I was such a fool. Her village was gone, killed by the necromancer whose boots I had just given her. Maybe she hadn’t been all that happy there, with Jarek and her late husband, whose name I couldn’t even remember, but she likely knew everyone who lived there. Save for Lira and me, everyone she’d ever known in her life was now dead—or, if they were lucky, had fled, leaving behind their homes and livelihoods. I had no idea how that felt, and all I’d done was recompense her with the boots of the woman who had killed them.

“Use them if you wish. Sell them if you don’t; they’ll be worth a fortune.” I shrugged. “You could do anything you wanted with the money. Buy a house in Taralith. You won’t need a husband then. You could be independent.”

Senna’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned away.

“Enough, Kaelan!” Lira’s voice whip-cracked out, and I turned to her in surprise. “We get it. You’re feeling responsible. But don’t take it out on Senna, she’s just lost her village.” Lira rose and crossed to her, sliding her arms around her. But it was me she was looking at. “That was cruel, and you know it.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Senna said, her voice muffled with her face buried in Lira’s shoulder, her shoulders trembling.

“I…” I stared at both girls and could think of nothing to say. That hadn’t been what I meant. Where was my fucking Etiquette now?

Etiquette has lost 1 rank.

Oh, there it was.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Senna. And … I’m sorry about Fernwick. It’s my fault.”

“If there’s fault to go around, it doesn’t just lie with you,” Lira said with a sigh. “It lies with me, too. I thought summoning you would end Drakos there and then. But it didn’t, and we have to accept that.”

“It didn’t because I failed,” I said, bitterly. “You should’ve summoned a different god.” A real god.

She shook her head. “You will win. You’re stronger with each day. That’s obvious from just looking at you. Drakos will fall at your hand.”

“He should be dead already.”

“Well, you’ll just have to kill him then, won’t you?”

“I’m not strong enough.” It was true. I might have the Veilstrider abilities, but I was still only level 12. Drakos was 18 … assuming he hadn’t leveled since I’d last seen him.

“You’ll get stronger, I know you will.” Lira gazed at me, her faith shining in her eyes, but that just made it worse. Then she looked away, her face falling. “We both wish it could be over already. Every day more people suffer.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I said. “You think I don’t feel the weight of the deaths in Fernwick? All those innocents, dead because of my failures.”

Senna let out a quiet sob.

“So what’s the plan, Kaelan? Whatever it is, let’s do it. How do you get strong enough to kill him?”

I stared at her helplessly as she comforted Senna.

How was I to gain six levels before Drakos once again made his presence felt?

Fucked if I knew.

Chapter 45

Doubts and Direction

For lack of anywhere else to go, we rode back toward Taralith, and Senna wore her new boots.

I didn’t think Lira had forgiven me, but that was deserved. I’d been a fucking jerk.

She’d even refused the gold I’d taken from the necromancer when I’d tried to pay her back for the two hundred she’d spent on my replacement equipment. She said the Shaman’s staff had already settled that debt, but I couldn’t help but feel she didn’t want anything more from me.

Maybe that was just me, reflecting my mood on her, and maybe it wasn’t. I was sure she was angry with me, not least for what I’d said to Senna.

My mood was dark. Not only had I treated both girls poorly, but I still had no answer to the question that plagued me: how to address the gap in power so I could take Drakos on and finally rid Valora of his pestilence.

That night, we camped in the same glade where we’d dueled with sticks. The sky was a flat, dull gray, and a light rain fell all evening, not helping my brooding disposition.

I left the girls huddled together in the tent and sat on a log by the fire outside. My breastplate was in the tent, my jacket draped loosely over my shoulders, and the drizzle soaked into my shirt.

The only solution I could see was to keep doing quests—any task that might help me gain experience and level up. I just didn’t know where to find them. The north road out of Taralith was the only place I could think of where the storekeeper had mentioned there were bandits. Would killing a couple dozen deserters level me? Doubtful. I knew already that my skills took more effort to reach each subsequent point, and with the power I now had, the bandits would be little more than a warmup.

There was some comfort in that, but not enough to dispel my dark mood.

Lira was right, dammit. As usual. Whatever I was doing, I wasn’t doing it fast enough. I had my God Power, and I hadn’t even used it when I fought the zombies and Marisa. Granted, no single encounter had lasted more than a few seconds, but any one of them could’ve ranked me faster.

I’d made mistakes. So many mistakes. My Intelligence attribute sat on my character sheet, taunting me with my inadequacies.

I poked the fire with a stick, orange embers floating up on the smoke.

So maybe I could match Drakos in speed, for I was under no illusions how fast he was. But he was still so much stronger, tougher, and more experienced. He hadn’t shown any of his skill when we’d fought before because he hadn’t needed to. He’d dispatched me like the relative child I had been … and the wound of it still tore at my soul. I didn’t even know what abilities he had, and he must have some.

I wondered if I was afraid of Drakos.

But no, that wasn’t it. I wasn’t afraid of dying—I’d had enough practice at that. It was failing and letting everyone down that scared me. The disappointment on Lira’s face. The horror in Senna’s. The crowd shifting from chanting my name to chanting Drakos’.

I was the god Lira had summoned when everyone else had given in and surrendered. She’d told me about the priesthood of Sharlath, a group of old men who cared only to maintain their power, treading down on any who showed a spark of talent that might threaten their comfortable positions at the top, not that Lira had used such words. I’d understood all that not from what she’d said, but what she hadn’t.

It didn’t matter that the priesthood had done nothing, but it did emphasize how much of a risk Lira had taken, abandoning them and striking out on her own. Hell, I didn’t even know why she was my companion. I should be hers.

And I was still falling short of her expectations. Sitting here by the fire, wallowing in self-pity. I should’ve been in the tent, apologizing again to Senna, then maybe out in the woods in the dark, practicing my new Veilstrider abilities.

Instead, I poked the fire.

The tent flap opened behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t face more of Lira’s calm support, for I didn’t deserve it.

Delicate bare feet stepped up beside me in the wet grass, and a pair of small hands stretched out toward the heat of the fire. I glanced up.

It wasn’t Lira; it was Senna. And she was completely naked.

I rose, pulling my jacket off my shoulders and draping it over hers. “What are you doing out here like that? You’ll freeze.”

“It’s not that cold,” she said, turning into my arms and pressing herself against me. Her body was warm through my damp shirt.

I pulled her closer, sitting down again with her curled up in my lap, pressed to my chest, my jacket about her. “I’m sorry, Senna. I don’t know why I said what I did. It was thoughtless, cruel, and inexcusable.”

“You were hurting,” she murmured against the side of my neck, the rain soaking into both of us. “I don’t blame you.”

I didn’t deserve her acceptance, but it was typical of both of them to forgive so quickly. They were such beautiful creatures, as much inside as out. I didn’t deserve either of them.

Her skin became slick beneath my hands, and I pulled her closer still. “It didn’t come out the way I’d intended.” I’d given it a lot of thought. “I meant to say I wanted you to have the freedom to choose how you live your life. That you could be free of needing a man, that you could do what you wanted to, live how you wanted to. I … I just wanted you to be free, for once.”

“You said I could be free to choose.”

“Yes! Exactly.”

“Yet, I’ve already made my choice.”

I stared down at her, and she lifted her chin toward me, the rain splashing into her upturned face. Her eyes were closed, and a small smile curled the corners of her mouth.

“But why?” I asked. “Why have you chosen me?”

“I haven’t just chosen you. I’ve chosen Lira, too. I’ve chosen both of you.” Her chin came up a fraction. “Now, as Lira would say, shut up and kiss me.”

‘Shut up and kiss me’? Had this strength always been inside Senna, or had Lira brought it out of her? It was both, I realized. Her Resilience had always been so high, higher than Lira’s even, and way the hell higher than mine.

As if I needed that reminder, when I was the one sitting outside here feeling sorry for myself, and Senna was the one who’d had to come and bring me back.

I chuckled softly, then kissed her. She opened to me, her body turning into me, her slender arms sliding around my neck as she kissed me back.

“Lira’s inside, waiting for both of us,” she murmured, her eyes still closed against the falling rain. “She’s warmer than you are and naked, too. So, I’m going back to her.” She pressed her body into mine. “Just so we’re clear, you’re coming as well. But the wet clothes stay outside the tent.”

Three days later, we rode back into Taralith as the evening sun began to set.

A militia guard met us inside the gate, one hand raised, and I reined in my mare.

“You’re the one who killed Drakos’ men!” he said, glancing from me to the two girls and back again. He shook his head. “You don’t want to be here.”

I frowned. That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. The town had been grateful when I’d left, a little over a week ago. What had happened in that time to change their minds?

“We’ve been on the road a few days,” I said firmly. “We intended to spend the night at Zevrin’s inn, and then, if need be, we’ll be on our way.”

Again, he shook his head. “News spread of what you did. Drakos’ lieutenant is looking for you, and he’s not the merciful type.”

I perked up at that. Another lieutenant was just what I needed to help me level. “He’s here now?”

“Aye, and with two dozen men or more. They rode in from Norathil yesterday, demanding to know why they hadn’t heard from those stationed here.”

“Have they caused any trouble?” Lira asked, nudging her horse forward.

The militia guard turned to her. “Aye, ma’am.” He spat on the ground. “You know what Drakos’ scum are like.” Then, as though expecting the lieutenant to appear behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression guilty. “They’ve gathered folks in the square even now.”

Lira met my eyes, her expression solemn. I knew what she was thinking. “You girls should head back to the bivouac and leave me to handle this.”

Senna shook her head. “No, we can help.”

“I have my staff,” Lira said, “and Senna has her boots.”

“Boots she’s never used,” I said, aware of the guard listening to our strange conversation. “I can get this done faster if I don’t have to worry about your safety.”

Lira held my gaze for a long moment before lowering her eyes. “Yes, Kaelan.” Her lips thinned in disapproval. I missed the old Lira, the one whose faith in me was unshakeable, her optimism always there. I swallowed a sigh; it was my fault.

“I’ll come and find you when this is over,” I said, dismounting and tethering my horse to a post just inside the gate. Looping my quiver across my back and taking my bow, I turned and ran quickly down the street toward the square, staying in the shadows that were steadily growing deeper.

I turned around to check if the girls had left, and the militia guard was back at his post, the indigo blue of the evening sky visible through the empty gateway. I was glad they’d gone; it was one less thing to worry about.

It was a short jog to the town square. As I drew nearer, the rumble of many voices reached my ears. I slunk closer to the sides of the buildings, deep in the shadows, my footsteps making no noise.

A crowd of Taralith residents huddled to one side of the square, fenced in by a wall of a dozen soldiers in the black leathers of Drakos’ men.

Another dozen of his soldiers stood in the center, where gallows had been erected on a raised platform. I grimaced at the sight of a man already swinging from a noose. Two more ropes hung, ready for their victims, while a man stood below, his hands tied in front of him and soldiers gripping his arms. I recognized him. It was Zevrin.

“Still nothing to say?” a man called, silencing the crowd’s murmurs. He stood beside the gallows, clad in the same black leathers, though he wore a black cloak as well. From the height of the platform, he addressed the crowd. “How many more must hang to jog your memories?”

“We told you, they went north!” someone in the crowd shouted back. “We all saw them!”

“You’re lying,” the cloaked man said, his voice cold. “Sergeant, fetch the one who spoke.”

Three guards pushed through the crowd, seeking out the luckless man who had tried to give an answer. They dragged him forward. He stumbled and fell to the ground, only to be yanked upright and shoved toward where Zevrin stood. The crowd swayed, muttering and jostling, but they were unarmed, and the men facing them had swords drawn and shields ready.

“I know there was a fight in this man’s tavern,” the cloaked man called out, his voice cutting through the rising unrest. “Blood on the floor, blood on the walls. Would you still have me believe my men went north?”

Silence greeted these words.

The cloaked man turned to the guards before the gallows, radiating authority. He must be the lieutenant Drakos had sent. He gestured toward Zevrin. “Bring him. He’s next.”

The two men gripping Zevrin’s arms walked him forward, but I’d seen enough. I knew how this would pan out.

Two dozen of Drakos’ soldiers and one lieutenant.

It was time to try out some of my new Veilstrider abilities.

Chapter 46

Attack and Apprehend

I walked out of the cover of the building and into the square, nocking an arrow as I moved.

A shout ran out from one of the soldiers when they spotted me.

It was about fifty paces, longer than I was used to, but my skill was higher than it had ever been, and I was confident. My first shot took the escort on Zevrin’s left in the back of the neck. He dropped like a sack of wet cement, and Zevrin stumbled over him, falling to his knees. All the better. I hoped he was wise enough to stay there.

Another arrow was already on my string, my Arrow Rain rapid-fire Ability triggering beautifully. This one I aimed at the lieutenant, though the range was even farther, but he’d heard the warning shout and had already ducked behind the gallows.

Soldiers were running toward me, weapons already drawn, so I switched my aim to the closest one.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

My arrow struck the leading guard in the throat, his shield coming up too late. The next raised his shield, but with my skills boosted by my power, it was easy to put an arrow right where I wanted it. Above his shield, in his eye.

The next guard didn’t make the same mistake. His shield held high as he raced toward me. But I triggered my Veilshot Ability, my mana dropping five points. The arrow shimmered on the string, turning translucent with gray undertones like smoke … or shadow. I gave the soldiers a predatory grin and let fly.

It zipped across the gap, passing through the shield like it wasn’t there, then solidified just in time to bury itself in the soldier’s chest. He was knocked back by the force of the impact. The shaft of the arrow had re-materialized in his shield, and as his arm fell away, dragging the shield, it snapped in two.

The other soldiers hesitated, their pace faltering.

“Get him!” screamed a man from their rear. A sergeant, perhaps. Whomever it was, the men came on again, their efforts redoubled and expressions grim.

I had another Veilshot arrow nocked and loosed it through the shield and into the chest of the nearest man. The next one tried to dodge, my shot catching him high in the shoulder. He spun, falling, forcing the man behind him to leap over him. An arrow was waiting for him as he landed, and he went down, too.

They were only twenty paces away, but I killed two more of them before I slung my bow and drew my blades. Eight arrows, six of them Veilshots at a cost of thirty mana. Seven soldiers dead, another wounded on the ground. I was still outnumbered by a significant margin, but I had other tricks to play.

The lead soldier screamed as he charged, sword raised and shield leading. Two more flanked him, a half-step behind.

I couldn’t block a shield bash, and that left only one option. I waited until the last second, then dodged away, spinning past him, and caught the next man’s sword with my rapier. Twisting his blade aside, I slid my dagger home beneath his raised arm, then turned to parry the blow from the first man. Steel rang on steel, the shock jarring, but with my power active, I was so much faster than him. My riposte slashed across his face, and he fell away screaming.

Then a shield smashed into me.

I let myself fall with the blow, turning it into a roll to gain some distance. Coming up again amidst three more soldiers, I parried a thrust, twisting hard to dodge another. There were too many blades to deal with. I needed to draw them away from the square and into the alleyways and shadows.

Another man charged from behind, threatening to surround me. I spun, crouching, flinging up a hand and activating Veil Bind. My mana dipped by fifteen points as shadowy tendrils shot up from the ground. They clung to his legs and feet, wound themselves around his sword wrist, and tugged at this shield. More slithered over his torso, one winding about his throat. It all happened in the space of a heartbeat.

The other soldiers froze in shock, gasps and cries of horror escaping their lips. I came up out of my crouch, slid my rapier through the trapped man’s chest, then turned and ran for the nearest street exit from the square.

I raced down the narrow street, boots barely making a sound even at full sprint, allowing me to clearly hear the footsteps of pursuing soldiers. But I had a lead and time to use it. The twisting alleys of Taralith were to my advantage—tight quarters favored speed and agility over brute strength, and I knew how to make use of both.

My heartbeat echoed in my ears as I darted around a corner, then another, keeping to the shadows. My mana was down half, but there was enough for a few more tricks. I crouched behind a stack of crates, drawing in a slow breath, listening for the sounds of pursuit.

Rain began to fall in a soft mist, slicking the cobbles that reflected the last of the evening light.

Heavy footsteps echoed, getting closer.

A soldier rounded the corner, panting from the chase, sword at the ready. His eyes darted left and right, searching for me. Another followed behind him, then a third. They were fanning out, trying to block my exit in the narrow alleyway. But getting past them wasn’t my plan.

I gripped my rapier, its hilt comforting in my palm, and waited, watching them approach. The first was almost upon me, the second a step behind. Just as his footfalls neared the crates, I leapt up and struck.

My blade flashed in the dim light, slicing across the first man's throat before he could even raise his sword. He staggered, gasping, hands going to the wound, blood gushing down his black leather jerkin. I spun as he dropped, my dagger sliding into the second man's side, past his shield and just beneath his ribs. He choked on a cry, collapsing beside his comrade.

The third soldier froze, eyes wide in panic. He took a step back, lowering his sword, second-guessing the chase. I didn’t give him time to retreat, closing the gap in a heartbeat, and slashed low with my rapier. He tried to block with his shield, too slow, but it had only been a feint. I thrust my dagger toward his chest, and he barely got his sword in the way in time. The weapons locked together, guards entangling, but my strike had my momentum behind it.

I drove into him, pushing him back, and we crashed into the wall behind him. He let out a sharp cry of pain. The point of my dagger had pierced his chest, and his sword slipped away as his strength failed. I rammed it the rest of the way home, then stepped back and let him slip to the ground at my feet.

I paused, listening, but no more footsteps followed. Only silence.

I stepped out of the alley and moved quickly, slipping between the shadows like a wraith. My footsteps made no noise; my night vision brightened the shadows around me. Darkness was closing in, and that would only aid me.

God Power Deactivated.

An array of status messages scrolled before my eyes as ten skills and secondary attributes gained ranks, from Archery through to Weapon (Sword). Attack, Dagger, Dodge, Speed—all up. Dual Wielding gained three ranks. Sword only one. As I’d suspected, higher skills progressed more slowly.

From ahead came the sound of a boot scuffing on the cobbles, and I pressed myself against the nearest wall. Two soldiers passed by me, moving as quietly as they could, their swords ready, eyes scanning. Little did they know their prey was already behind them.

I struck twice, swift and sure. Both men were dead before they hit the ground. My backstab Ability had guided my weapons straight into their hearts.

Eighteen down, or was it nineteen? There’d been two dozen to start. Now, only a half-dozen remained. If they were wise, they’d be searching where I wouldn’t be found.

But I had to make my way back to the square. The lieutenant was still alive.

As I neared the center of town, something stopped me. A cry. Faint but unmistakable: Senna’s voice.

She was in the square, and she was in trouble.

Damn.

I pressed myself into the shadow of a wall, then carefully stole a glance. I’d been wrong; the other soldiers weren’t hiding from me. The lieutenant had drawn them in closer. Several standing torches had been lit, lighting up the scene. I grimaced as I saw Senna standing amidst the soldiers, a knife at her throat.

Too many for me to take head-on, especially with her vulnerable and my mana more than half spent.

Where was Lira? Why hadn’t they left? Had Senna come back alone? Lira would never have agreed to it.

I needed a diversion. Something to draw the soldiers away.

A cart half-loaded with barrels sat to my left, near a stack of crates. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

I darted across the street, crouching low. Reaching the cart, I gave it a hard shove. It tipped with a loud crash, barrels spilling into the road, rolling everywhere. The noise echoed off the walls, filling the narrow streets. I leapt behind the corner of a house to wait.

The soldiers’ footsteps began to run through the square toward the sound.

Perfect.

Then, a barked order halted them. I risked a glance into the square. They were regrouping before the gallows.

“Kaelan!” a voice shouted. “Kaelan, is that you? Come out before we cut this girl’s throat.”

Senna cried out again. The man holding her must’ve pressed the knife tighter. Would her boots work when she was held? Had she tried to use them yet?

A footfall behind me made me spin, dropping into a crouch. But it wasn’t a soldier. It was Lira, her staff gripped tightly in one hand.

“They’ve taken Senna?” she asked, her voice taut with worry.

“I’m going to get her back,” I said, grim. This wasn’t the time to ask her why she was here, or why they’d come back.

Besides, I already knew. They wanted to help. I could understand that. I just wished they’d stayed away.

Lira held my gaze, apology in her eyes. “I won’t forgive myself if she dies tonight.”

“She’s not dead yet,” I replied. “Drakos’ lieutenant is still out there, and so are his men. It’ll be them that don’t see the dawn.”

Lira’s hand clenched around her staff, her eyes dark with resolve. “Then we finish this now.”

I smirked, pulling my bow from my back. “Are you coming with me this time?”

“We should’ve come with you last time.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m immortal, and you’re not.”

“We’re not children, either,” she said, her chin coming up.

I sighed. She had a point. “Let’s get Senna out of there, and then we’ll talk about it.”

She nodded. “Do you have a plan?”

I glanced once again into the square. A soldier held Senna against him, his blade still against her throat. The lieutenant had come down off the gallows and was standing amidst his men. Four of them ringed him, while two more kept a watchful eye on the townsfolk on the far side of the square. I was surprised to see they were still gathered. The lieutenant had likely threatened any who tried to leave.

“Can you work your way around through the streets to the far side?” I asked Lira.

“Yes ... given time. And then?”

“Hide in the crowd. Be ready to help Senna.”

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“I’ll buy you the time you need … somehow.”

She slipped away into an alley, and I watched her leave.

Then I nocked an arrow and walked out where they could all see me.

Chapter 47

Rain and Reckoning

It was still raining as I entered the square, a dreary, insipid drizzle that would likely hang in the air all night. My boots splashed through puddles that had collected on the slick cobbles.

The lieutenant walked through his soldiers, coming to stand at the front of them while he waited for me. He was a lean man, sporting a tidy little black goatee, dressed in black leather armor and his cloak, a rapier on one hip, a short sword on the other. A dual wielder, like me.

I focused on him and pulled his info window.

Nothing more useful than his class and level, the gap making it as impossible as ever to know what his skills and attributes were. An Assassin. It made sense that Drakos would send a man like this.

I’d readied my bow, hoping for a chance to take a shot at him, but now I saw that wouldn’t work. He would be fast, fast enough to dodge at this range, and the population of Taralith stood behind him. I could easily hit one of them by accident. I replaced the arrow in my quiver, looped the bow over my head once more, and drew my blades instead.

He was silent as I walked across the square. I took my time, as much as to allow Lira every possible minute to get into position. The crowd shifted restlessly. They knew this was all about me.

I cast my eyes disdainfully over the lieutenant’s men and stared grimly at the gallows, where a body still swung in the flickering light of the torches. Maybe I was responsible for that death; maybe I wasn’t. Either way, I would avenge them.

Senna had been watching me, but when our eyes met, she shrank back, her shoulders slumping. She looked away, chewing her lip, then forced herself to meet my eyes. She knew she’d made this harder.

The lieutenant sneered as he watched our wordless exchange.

“You see I have your necromancer, Kaelan. Now, when I kill you, this farce will be over.”

For a moment, his remark puzzled me, and I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. Then I recalled Drakos accusing Lira of being a necromancer. They were still convinced I was some sort of necromantic reincarnation, but from their perspective, I supposed that made sense. It was the magic they were familiar with. He must think it was Lira he held captive, not realizing it was Senna.

I reminded myself Lira had only just left my side. They couldn’t have caught her already. She was still safe.

“Let her go, and then we can fight.”

It was clear a duel was what he wanted, and that suited me just fine.

“And why would I do that?” He looked up at the dark clouds, judging the weather, the misty rain splashing lightly into his face. He wiped it away with his sleeve and gave me a grin. “Drakos wants her alive. He wasn’t very happy when she escaped.”

Lira had said Drakos had prevented her leaving, but now it seemed she’d been his prisoner. I wondered how she’d managed to get away.

At least that meant they weren’t likely to kill Senna—not immediately, at any rate. She’d realized it, too, her chin coming up despite the knife still held to her throat.

The lieutenant was watching me, amusement in his eyes. “You see your doom, don’t you? I will kill you here, and your necromancer will be helpless to do anything about it. Then your body will be burnt while I take her back to Drakos.” He gave a happy little sigh at the thought.

“She has her own magic,” I said, rolling my shoulders to limber up. “You think you have her, but you don’t.” I winked at Senna. “Any time she feels like it, she could be gone in a blink, and no knife could stop her.” I hoped.

I flexed my wrists, rotating my blades, then took up a guard.

“If she moves, kill her,” the lieutenant drawled, drawing his own blades.

He charged forward, giving me no time to do anything but defend myself.

He closed the gap so fast, it must’ve been a class Ability, a dash of some type. If I hadn’t already been on guard, the fight could’ve ended then. As it was, only my dodge and sword skills saved me, allowing me to retreat a step and parry his first lunge. I threw a rapid riposte toward his chest with a flick of my wrist, but he parried it easily. He was just as fast as I was.

The lieutenant gave me a smile and a mocking salute. “It’s not often I get to try my skills against someone so suited to my own style. Shall we?”

“You like the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

His eyes hardened, and he came in again, both blades working in tandem.

Damn, he was fast. All my skill and focus went into parrying his strikes and flicking my blades back at him as we traded blows. I wanted to get the measure of him, to see what tricks this assassin had up his sleeve. No doubt he preferred to attack from the shadows, toward a defenseless back, but I was certain he’d have other skills to deploy in a fight such as this.

His rapier was the match of my weapon, and the short sword he wielded in his offhand I met with the magic stiletto I’d taken from the necromancer. Each time I parried, I silently urged the long, thin blade to hold under the relentless strikes.

The standing torches gave out only a low, flickering light, but my night vision compensated. Yet I suspected the man before me had the same advantage, for he didn’t hesitate for an instant, parrying every blow I threw at him.

Then he took a step back, disengaging, and grinned. “Round one to me, I think.”

I felt a cold tingle down my left arm and looked down at myself in shock. There was a small cut through the leather, a scratch on my skin beneath. I hadn’t even felt it, just a lunge I had parried sufficiently to deflect it past me, too focused on the riposte to realize at the time that the point had caught me.

Beneath the cut, my arm was growing numb, sensation slipping away and my muscles locking up. I looked back at him, my eyes wide with surprise as I stared at his weapons.

His rapier glinted in the light of the torches, and I saw what I’d missed before: a green sheen along one edge like oil spread on water. Concentrating, I pulled up its stats:

Weapon: Rapier. Type: Sword. Quality: Magic +1. Attack 6. Speed 9. Keen edge, crit +10%. Poison.

His blade was the same as mine, save that his was magic and mine was not, and he had imbued it with poison. It must be an Assassin Ability, for the gleam on the blade was too perfect, too regular to be an applied liquid or cream. And he’d merely touched me with it, a scratch all he needed for the poison to take.

I flexed my arm, feeling it stiffer than before. But I could still use it … for now. Grimly, I took my guard again.

Activate God power. I’d been saving my last usage of the day just for this fight, and now that I knew what he was capable of, I had to end this quickly.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

I led with my rapier, my dagger held low as I engaged him once more.

With my skills increased, I pressed him hard. He backed up before me, his eyes narrowing as my strikes came faster, stronger. Yet my left arm was slower with every passing heartbeat, the poison working deeper into my blood. I knew I didn’t have long until it could no longer match his speed.

I threw out my hand, summoning Veil Bind, the black tendrils springing up around him. Fifteen mana points gone, on top of the forty-five I’d already spent. That only left me with twenty-two, but I was moving in for the kill even as his legs were held by the tendrils while more pulled at his wrists.

But this was a level fifteen assassin, and he wasn’t without his own tricks. His blade shimmered with a dark, shadowy magic, and it cut through my tendrils. They dissipated into nothing more than harmless black mist, and he was free.

I was already on him, his escape costing him a precious instant he couldn’t afford. He barely parried my lunge, off balance as he staggered backward. I followed up with my dagger, feinting toward his head, and as he fell for it, he created a small opening. I stabbed forward with my rapier, but he was still too fast. Instead of a lethal blow, it sliced across his ribs as he twisted out of the way.

Even as he fell back, his hand came up, fingers spread around his dagger’s hilt, and a fan of three shadowy knives sprayed toward me. I reacted on instinct, ducking beneath the first, and it ruffled my hair as it passed so close. The second I deflected with my stiletto, and it turned to smoke. But I could do nothing to stop the third, and it struck my leading thigh. I gritted my teeth at the pain. I reached down to pull it out, but it had already faded, drifting away in the rain.

The assassin retreated a few steps, his hand clasped to his bleeding flank, his breathing heavy.

“My round again,” he said, though the effort of speaking made him cough hard, his face wincing as it pulled at his chest.

I wasn’t sure I agreed. The wound in my thigh was deep, but so was the slash on his ribs.

A cold tingle spread down my leg, the same icy numbness that was already working its way down my left arm. Dammit, had his shadow daggers been poisoned, too?

“Your poison isn’t fast enough, Assassin,” I told him. “You’ll be dead before it has fully taken hold.”

He smiled, snake-like and superior. “You might enjoy this one a little sooner. The first was a mere scratch.” Then he spoke for the benefit of the guard, his eyes not leaving mine. “If this cur somehow manages to kill me, cut her throat.”

“Yes, sir!” the guard holding Senna acknowledged. His grip on the back of her neck tightened.

I had to trust Senna could blink away if she needed to, though I wasn’t sure why she hadn’t yet. I couldn’t let her distract me, and my God Power was running out fast. I needed the skill boost it afforded.

Giving the lieutenant a come-hither motion with one hand, I readied myself. “Let’s finish this.”

He snarled and raised his weapons. Then he dashed forward.

His hand came up even as he moved, and three more shadow daggers sprang out. But I’d seen this Ability now, and my rapier slashed through two of them while my dagger caught the third.

He was on me before I could fully recover, his blades working in tandem. Off balance, I retreated before him, using all my focus to keep his blades from touching me and my balance stable on the treacherously slick cobblestones. My right leg was growing numb far faster than my arm had done, the sensation making it hard to gauge my steps.

I threw out Veil Bind, my mana dropping to seven. Too low for another cast. Again, he cut through it, but I only needed an instant’s distraction. I pushed forward into a lunge, but my poisoned leg gave out on me.

I went down on my other knee, my strike losing much of its power as my balance was compromised, and his dagger flowed down to deflect it. Yet I still pierced his hip with the point of my blade, and he hissed in pain.

Again his hand raised, three more shadow daggers appearing, but he winced as he cast it, and I knew he was also at the limits of his mana. On one knee, unable to dodge, it was all I could do to deflect two of them, and the third stabbed into my shoulder.

Then my God Power ran out. Thankfully, the skill updates didn’t follow and risk distracting me; the status delay recognized I was still fighting.

“Senna!” Lira’s voice came from within the crowd. Finally, she’d made it. “To me!”

The lieutenant didn’t hesitate to push his advantage, using his superior height and balance to launch a flowing attack with both blades. I parried blow after blow, each use of my dagger sending jolts of pain through my shoulder. It was so much harder without my God Power, my poisoned arm too slow. I barely turned away the next blow, and his short sword sliced across my cheek, just beneath my eye.

“No!” Senna cried, watching.

I saw her blink away, the soldier that had held her stumbling in bewilderment at her sudden absence. At least she’d go to Lira, and they could escape.

Yet she didn’t. She emerged behind another soldier, pulling a dagger from his belt and blinking again.

She remerged behind the lieutenant. But Senna had never used a dagger, had never even been in a real fight. She pulled back the blade, ready to plunge it into his back, but for all the speed I knew she was capable of, she was simply too slow. She’d hesitated.

The lieutenant turned, backhanding her across her face, and she fell to the cobbles with a cry of pain.

“Senna!” Lira shouted, pushing out through the crowd. “To me!” she yelled again, even as she raised the shaman’s staff and sent a stone spray into the nearest soldier.

The assassin turned, his rapier raised, and stabbed it down into Senna.

But she was gone, and his blade struck the cobbles beneath where she’d lain.

For a moment, he was stunned by her absence. Then she reappeared behind Lira. He spat a curse at her.

But Senna’s distraction had afforded me the time to regain my feet, and I took a guard once more.

Seeing me up, the lieutenant took a pace back, a wolf-like grin on his lips. “How’s the poison now?” he asked as though we were discussing its merits over a nice beer in a warm bar, and not in the rain on slick cobbles that were splashed crimson with the blood we’d spilt.

Green light bathed me, and both of us glanced toward Lira. She was standing before the crowd, her staff in one hand, the other raised as she Restored me. Beside her stood Valerie, the fletcher. Her bow was in her hand, and she was reaching for another arrow. A soldier slumped to the ground before her, a shaft in his throat.

I felt the poison cleansed from my body, the pain in my leg and shoulder drifting away like they’d never been there. The cut on my cheek was gone.

It let me give the assassin a grin of my own. “Much better. Thank you for asking.”

“Kill them!” screamed the lieutenant, and the remaining soldiers ran at Lira, Valerie, and Senna.

There were four of them left. The girls were outnumbered, and Senna only had a dagger. But I wasn’t worried, not when Lira had her staff. Valerie was no slouch, either.

I leaped toward the lieutenant, wanting to keep him occupied. My rapier slashed down, my dagger quickly following. Each desperate parry he made was wilder than the last. He was favoring his injured side, his footwork becoming less precise.

In the corner of my eye, another guard fell, Valerie’s arrow in his chest, but I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted.

The lieutenant stumbled beneath my attack, and it was his turn to go down one knee. I brought my rapier down in a vicious slash, and his sword was beaten aside as he tried to parry. My blade cut into his shoulder, and he gasped in pain. I kicked out, catching him in the chest, and it was enough to knock him back.

He fell to the wet cobbles, his short sword skittering away. I stood over him, striking down against his rapier as he desperately parried. One blow, two, until with a final slash, my blade took his hand off at the wrist.

The assassin screamed, clutching the stub to his chest as blood pumped out over his black leathers.

“Surrender,” he gasped. “I surrender!”

I put the point of my sword to his throat and looked over at the girls.

But they’d finished, too. The last guards were dead, one of them ripped apart by the stone shards of Lira’s lance, another with an arrow through his eye. The last was lying on the floor, surrounded by the angry, vengeful townsfolk of Taralith, armed only with fists and feet. Zevrin stood with them, grimly looking on.

I turned my gaze back to the lieutenant lying at my feet.

“Quarter!” he begged. “Mercy!”

He was lying only a few paces from the gallows, where a body still dangled.

I took a pace back, lowering my sword, and met the eyes of the citizens of Taralith.

“He’s yours,” I said to them. I picked up his magic rapier, and then I turned and walked across the slick cobblestones to Senna and Lira.

Behind me came the pitiful sounds of the lieutenant begging and whimpering. I knew they were dragging him to the gallows, but I didn’t care. It had been them he had threatened to hang, their friend and neighbor who swung on the end of a rope. Retribution was theirs.

I dropped the blades on the cobbles and held my arms out to both my girls. They came to me, and we clung to each other.

The trap door dropped open, followed by an instant of nothing, then the sharp snap of the rope going taut. But his neck hadn’t broken; the drop was too short. He choked and struggled, each breath a ragged, shallow gasp as his own weight slowly tightened the noose. With every failed attempt to draw air, he jerked and convulsed. It took him some time to die.

Then there was nothing but the creak of the rope as Taralith watched, their anger all the more vengeful for their silence.

Chapter 48

Conflict and Consequence

“I’m sorry,” Senna said as she pressed herself against me.

An array of status messages scrolled up through my vision, and I noted I’d gained a level, (Congratulations!), then ignored them. I’d check my sheet later.

Instead, I reached up to her face, turning it gently to inspect the bruise on her cheek where the lieutenant had struck her.

“Lira, could you …?”

“Of course.”

She raised her hand, the green glow lasting only a moment, and the mark on Senna’s cheek faded.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I murmured, sliding my arm around Lira’s waist and pulling them both to me once more. “I should’ve known you two wouldn’t leave, and we should’ve found a way to do this together.”

“We’re stronger together,” Lira agreed.

Senna looked down, shoulders slumping. “I’m not. I only made things worse, and ... I couldn’t even stab him when I tried.”

“You saved me,” I said to her. “You gave me just enough time to regain my feet. If you hadn’t done that, he’d have killed me.” I placed a fingertip under her chin and lifted it until her gaze met mine. “And you were brave.”

She gave me a tremulous smile, and I leaned forward and brushed her lips with mine.

Valerie stood behind them, bow in hand. She’d been watching us, but averted her gaze as we kissed. I turned Senna to my side and looked at her.

“Thank you again. That’s the second time you’ve come to my aid.”

She shrugged. “I was defending Taralith, not you.”

I smiled. “Nevertheless, I thank you.”

Valerie gave me a curt nod, then turned away.

“If I may,” I said, halting her, “I’d like to come and see you tomorrow. Something to discuss.”

Valerie glanced back, her eyes narrowing as if weighing my words. She gave a sharp nod before turning on her heel, disappearing into the night.

It seemed she had no wish to remain where Death lingered.

I sighed, looking around the square. Some of the townsfolk had taken up the soldiers’ torches and were walking purposefully toward the gallows. The lieutenant’s body hung on a rope, but the other victim had been cut down. Others were gathering the corpses of the soldiers, throwing them onto the wooden platform. Torches were thrust beneath it, the damp wood slow to catch. There was a lot of smoke.

“We’re done here,” I said, turning my girls away from the sight. “I’m in need of a wash and a hot meal.”

“I heard that.” Zevrin walked up to me. “I have rooms you can use in the Hound.”

That was generous, but his inn was adjacent to the square. I hoped the rooms were toward the back, and we would need to keep the windows closed. The acrid stench of burning flesh clung to the air, turning my stomach as we walked.

I nodded to him. “Thank you.”

We followed Zevrin across the square, and many of the townsfolk watched us leave. In the eyes of most, there was gratitude. But some watched with worry, others with fear. And others still had accusation in their expressions.

“What happened while I was gone?” I asked Zevrin as we walked.

“Late yesterday, the lieutenant arrived on horseback with his men. He didn’t believe the story that the other men you killed had gone north to seek the bandits.” Zevrin shrugged. “He seemed to know too much, even before he got here. I was arrested this morning, and Melissa was detained.” He glanced at me. “It was obvious someone had told them.” Then he grimaced. “It didn’t help that they found traces of blood on the floor of my common room.”

I had hoped that the people of Taralith would support one another, but I’d been naïve. It was apparent there was an informer amongst the population. At least one; maybe more. With Drakos in control of Valorah, I should’ve anticipated it. He could easily have placed spies within the town, and fear itself was a powerful motivator. So was greed, come to that. All it took was a man keen to profit on information, and the details would’ve quickly reached Drakos’ ears.

“We can only assume news of this will travel equally fast,” I said.

Lira tensed against my side, and Zevrin nodded grimly.

We reached the tavern, and he pushed open the door and led us inside and out of the rain. A fire was lit in the hearth, and oil lamps adorned the walls.

Zevrin sighed deeply, his gaze lingering on the empty common room as if he carried the weight of it all. “Maybe it’s time we leave Taralith for good.”

“It might be wise to consider some time away.” I walked to stand before the fire, letting the heat dry my clothing. The girls flopped wearily into chairs nearby. “But I don’t think it will be necessary for the move to be permanent.”

It would be difficult for the people who lived here, and many would refuse to go. But with Zevrin marked by association, he, at least, would be safer elsewhere.

“Oh?” He cocked his head, some small hope lifting his expression.

“I will kill Drakos soon,” I assured him. “Once he’s dead, Taralith will be safe.”

He fixed his eyes on me, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “You’ll kill Drakos?”

“That was always the plan,” I said.

Zevrin regarded me for a long moment. “I suppose, if anyone can do it, you might.”

I grinned. “Thank you for that vote of confidence. How about some food and that room you promised?”

I stared at the ceiling in the dark, thinking about the fight and the bodies that filled Taralith’s square.

The assassin had almost killed me—he would’ve done, if Lira hadn’t healed me—and he’d only been level 15. Three less than Drakos—assuming he hadn’t leveled further. Death didn’t bother me, but being forced to respawn meant I wasn’t there to defend my girls. That bothered me.

I couldn’t dispel the memory of a knife pressed to Senna’s throat.

Yet she seemed unaffected, lying against my other side, half-draped across me, snuggling close. I wasn’t sure if she slept, but her breathing was soft and regular against my bare chest. I gave her a little squeeze, as much to reassure myself as comfort her.

Lira was tense beside me, fingers drumming with pent-up emotion against her thigh, patters of sound in our quiet room. I knew how she felt. Despite the meal we’d shared in Zevrin’s common room, I still hadn’t relaxed.

The dark shadows on her face were no challenge for my night vision, and I could see the worry reflected in her expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Taralith will pay dearly when Drakos hears of this,” Lira murmured quietly, her voice tinged with sorrow.

She saw the residents here as her people, as much as any soul in Valorah.

“They were already suffering before this night.”

“There were bound to be repercussions when you killed those men.”

She said it matter-of-factly, but again, it felt like an accusation. Was I reading something that wasn’t there in Lira’s sentiment, or had her hope in me faded?

“If I hadn’t intervened, they’d have done far more to an innocent girl.”

“Yes, I know.” She was quiet for a long moment. “Sometimes, the suffering of one is the price to pay to keep others safe.”

I shook my head. “If it were truly just one, that argument becomes less abhorrent. But Drakos’ men are like a plague unchecked. It would only have been the first in a line of such cruelty. If it even was the first.”

Lira sighed softly. “There’s no other answer. Until Drakos is dead, this will only escalate. Taralith is just one town in Valorah; the whole country is vulnerable.”

“I will kill him.”

“I know.” She was quiet for a long moment, then gave another sigh. “The question is when.”

She turned away, facing the wall beside the bed, her back to me.

I lay in the darkness, anger swirling in my chest.

Lira was right, as always. But I was still too weak. The lieutenant had almost killed me, and he’d only been level fifteen. Drakos had been eighteen when we’d last met; while I knew he wouldn’t be leveling as fast as me, it was reasonable to assume he was now nineteen or twenty. The gap was still too large. I’d hoped to have more time, but how long would it be before more of Drakos’ men came to punish Taralith?

Innocents would die.

I could take out a whole army alone with enough time and a respawn point nearby, but the capture of Senna tonight showed my weakness: I could do nothing to defend those they wanted to hurt. If I had to choose between saving many innocents or saving Senna and Lira … I knew which choice I’d always make.

Was that weakness?

I pulled up my info sheet. I’d gained a level and a bunch of ranks in my combat skills from this evening’s work. Maybe there was another Perk or Ability I could gain that would help.

There was no Perk to spend, but I did have another Ability. I checked the Veilstrider list, and a new option had been added:

Shadow Step: Instantly shift a short distance in any direction.

There were so many applications for such a useful Ability, and I bought it straight away. That left me with the usual six skills points and an attribute point. Two points into Stealth, and four into Dual Wielding. The attribute point I dropped into Intelligence, hoping it would help my skills rank faster and boost my mana. Then I pulled my sheet up again:

I took some comfort in the progress of my major skills. My Speed, Attack, and Agility were also prominent. I’d gone toe-to-toe with an assassin three levels higher and emerged victorious—albeit with a little help from the girls.

Next level, I’d be able to change the setting that allowed me to respawn with my equipment, and that would be a game changer. I glanced over at the table nearby on which rested my breastplate, the magical cuffs I’d taken from Marisa, and the assassin’s rapier lying beside mine. My dagger was under my pillow—an uncomfortably lumpy precaution.

Senna stirred against me, her warm skin rubbing against mine. I squeezed her gently, and she settled again, her breath calming against my chest.

Lira remained facing away, her body too tense for her to be asleep. I knew she was worried for Taralith, but it was only a focal point of the larger problem. What we had seen here in the past week or two was happening all over Valorah. Drakos had spread his army across the country, occupying the towns and villages. It took little to imagine the atrocities his men were committing and how little recourse the population had. Even when I killed him, there’d be work to do to tidy up that mess, and Valorah would take a generation to once again have an army to defend their lands.

It didn’t bode well for Lira’s country.

I knew little of the wider political landscape. I wasn’t sure Lira had ever told me from where Drakos had come—or perhaps she had, that first hour, when I was too stunned to clearly listen.

“Did you ever tell me where Drakos came from?” I kept my voice low, hoping not to disturb Senna.

Lira shifted beside me, then rolled back over, her lips close to my ear. “I did. When you first arrived, remember?”

As I’d thought. “I was processing a lot at that time. Remind me, please?”

“To the west of Valorah lies an expansive country called Saromir. It stretches all along our western border, from close to the Sea of Sands up to the mountain ranges at Karomir Pass and beyond. It is many leagues wide, a colder climate, with plains that run for miles and miles. The tribes there are nomadic, brutal, and they live for war. It’s understood that Drakos is one of the tribal leaders, and his army is his tribe.”

“Will Saromir invade, if I kill Drakos?”

“It’s not likely. The tribes care little for each other and war amongst themselves. It’s rare that they leave Saromir; they are a superstitious people.” She sighed. “Beyond the occasional border skirmish, we’ve had no encounters with them for decades.”

“So why Drakos? Why now?”

“I don’t think we ever learned his reasons. They moved fast, his whole army on horseback, bypassing our defenses at Faronis and Lakeside and driving straight for Norathil.”

“Is Norathil the capital?”

“Yes. Our outnumbered troops tried to defend it, but Drakos slaughtered them, then crushed reinforcements that came too late from the border garrisons. Drakos didn’t allow them time to unite, using the greater mobility of his troops to intercept them. Three battles, three defeats, and each time his army had the numbers.”

“It sounds like he’s a strategist.”

“He is. He would be a great leader if his methods weren’t rooted in cruelty and fear. As it is, he’s a tyrant.”

“What of your other borders? Garrisons to the east or south?”

“There’s nothing to the south save for the Sea of Sands. There are nomads who travel there, knowing the paths between oases, but they are few and far between. To the east lies the Sea of Storms, with Erdalan beyond. But the elves have never attacked us, and we have no need for garrisons on our coast. Some few soldiers keep the peace in the coastal towns, protecting from pirates and the like, and as far as I know, they’re still there. But their numbers are insufficient to challenge Drakos.”

“Will his army disband if I kill Drakos?”

“As I said, they are a superstitious people. If their tribe has no leader, they will withdraw to Saromir to choose another. Perhaps they will then come again, but there is no precedent for it.” Lira shrugged against my shoulder. “It might give us time enough to gather what little we have left to defend ourselves.”

“With no army?”

“Any soldiers that remain, plus those able to wield bow or pitchfork.”

“And me.”

“And you.” She was quiet for several breaths. “Will you stay then, after you defeat Drakos?”

Where else would I go? Lira couldn’t send me back, and unless I gained the power to do it myself, Valorah was now my home. “I will stay.”

“Thank you, my God.” She placed a kiss on my shoulder.

I recalled I’d never asked her about Morvak, the name Marisa had mentioned with her dying words. We’d been—I’d been—distracted that evening, after managing to upset Senna so badly.

“What of Morvak? Is he another of Drakos’ lieutenants?”

“I don’t know that name. Where did you hear it?”

“The necromancer mentioned it before she died. Made him sound like someone important.”

“Perhaps he’s a lieutenant, as you say. Valorah is a large country; Drakos may have sent him to control Lorimel, the major city in the north.” She shrugged again. “I’d heard rumors one of his lieutenants had taken over there.”

I nodded, though she probably couldn’t see in the dark. “Tomorrow, I will meet with Valerie to try an idea I had. After that, I’ll look for a way to continue to increase my strength. When I’m strong enough, I’ll kill Drakos and send his Saromiran tribe home.”

Lira’s silence stretched on, long enough for doubt to form a seed. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. “How long will that take?”

“How long will what take?”

“For you to gain the strength you need.”

I considered. I was now five levels beneath Drakos, more if he had leveled, too. My powers had increased substantially, but even with my God Power, my skills were ranking sluggishly in ones and twos, whereas to begin with, they’d gained three or four ranks with ease.

“Realistically, it will take some weeks to make it to,”—Level eighteen—“until I am strong enough.”

“Weeks?” Lira’s voice tightened with alarm.

“I am doing everything I can,” I replied, but even to me, the words felt hollow.

“I know…” She sounded thoughtful. “Taralith doesn’t have weeks. They will seek revenge here. It is their way.”

“Will the people leave if we suggest it?”

“I don’t know. Some, maybe. They have their lives here.”

“Better to keep their lives and live elsewhere for a while.”

“But autumn is coming, and winter will follow. They won’t survive without their farms and homes.”

I turned my head, finding her eyes in the darkness. “Would you have had me let Drakos’ men act as they wished?” I thought of Melissa, the barmaid, held by the soldiers as she tried to get away.

“No, my God,” Lira whispered. “I would not have you be other than as you are. You are a good man. A good God.”

“Thank you for that,” I murmured, leaning forward to brush my lips against hers, mindful of not disturbing the slumbering Senna. “I feared you had lost your faith in me.”

“Never, my God,” Lira said quickly. Then, again with more vehemence: “Never.”

“I’ll do what must be done,” I assured her.

“Yes,” she said, thoughtful again. “We must all do what must be done.”

She was quiet after that.

We lay in silence, Senna’s soft breaths the only sound between us, each lost in our own thoughts.

Chapter 49

Venture and Valerie

Lira’s spot was empty when I awoke, but the bed still held the warmth of her body.

Senna stirred beside me as I shifted, then slid a bare arm over me, her slim body pressing against mine. “Five more minutes,” she murmured, trying to pin me down.

“Lira’s already up,” I said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “So is the sun.”

She made a cute little grumbling noise, then sighed and pushed back the blankets. I meant to get up, but she padded naked into the middle of the room, raising her hands high in a full-body stretch. It was hard to do anything but watch with her putting on such a show.

She caught me staring, gave me a little smile, and flung my shirt and shorts at me. “Come on then, let’s go find our girl. I want breakfast.”

My stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and it didn’t take us long to dress. I left my breastplate and Marisa’s vambraces on the table but took my blades, belting them around my waist. The assassin’s rapier replaced my own; the blade was magic, even if the poison had already faded. That was fine. Poison wasn’t my style.

We headed downstairs in search of food.

The delicious smells of fried bacon and freshly baked bread wafted toward us even before we’d reached the common room, and Melissa passed us with a laden tray. “Hi, Kaelan,” she said, blushing.

“Good morning.” I gave her a smile. “All well with you?”

“Yes, thank you.” Her blush deepened, then she pushed open the door of the common room with one shapely hip and carried the tray to a waiting table.

“She seems to like you,” Senna commented dryly.

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Well, my first clue was that she didn’t even notice I was standing beside you.” She grinned at me and led the way into the common room.

There were a few tables occupied and a general hum of conversation. A few glanced our way as we entered, then did a double-take as they recognized me. Zevrin was behind the bar and looked up with a welcoming smile; we headed over.

“Morning, Zevrin. Have you seen Lira?”

“Aye, she’s eaten already. I believe she’s out back with the horses.”

“Thanks. We’ll grab some food in a bit.”

“Sure. I’ll let Melissa know.”

We headed out of the rear door to the inn, into the stables. It was a bright day after the rain of the night before, the sky clear and blue with few clouds. Sure enough, Lira was there, her horse was already saddled, and she was checking the girth strap.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

Lira jumped, wheeling around. “You scared me!” She gave a breathless laugh, her face flushed. “Off for a ride. I thought you were meeting Valerie today?”

“That’s the idea, once we’ve had some breakfast. Where are you off to?”

“Oh, just out and about,” Lira said casually, her flush deepening. “I figured you’d want time with Valerie alone.”

“Actually, I was planning on taking Senna.” I turned to her. “Would you like to learn to shoot a bow?”

“Oh, yes!” Senna gave a little bounce on her toes. “What a good idea.” She looked between us. “If that’s alright? I don’t want to get in the way if you and Valerie wanted your space.”

I glanced between them, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just meeting her to ask about a bow. You make it sound like it’s a date.”

“Oh, well,” Senna demurred, “I just thought … you know … seeing as how she’s quite beautiful …”

“…And deadly,” Lira added.

I gave a laugh and shook my head. “You should come, Senna. I’m sure Valerie will have a range or at least a bow you can borrow. It’ll be a good time to learn.”

“How long do you think you’ll be?” Lira asked, turning back to finish tightening the girth.

“What I have in mind will likely take much of the day. Maybe even two. I don’t really know.”

Lira gave a nod, then swung up onto her horse. She looked down, running her eyes over both of us. “Look after him for me, please, Senna.”

“Of course,” Senna said, her tone tentative. “See you later?”

Lira gazed at me, her eyes searching my face. “I love you, my God.”

I blinked up at her in surprise, but she had already wheeled her horse and kicked it into a trot, heading out through the stable entrance and into the town square.

“I wonder where she’s going,” Senna mused.

“I’m sure she’ll find something to entertain her,” I said, half-distracted by Lira’s goodbye. Then I shook myself. “Let’s get some breakfast and then find the fletcher.”

An hour later, having taken directions from Zevrin, we strolled up to Valerie’s shop in the northeast part of Taralith, close to the town wall. A wooden board depicting a bow and two arrows hung from an iron bracket above the door.

After the brightness outside, it seemed dark within, my eyes taking a moment to adjust. A counter stood to one side of the door, and farther in, there were tables covered in the tools of Valerie’s trade. A bow she was working on lay unfinished on one table, headless arrows partly feathered on another.

A young woman of a similar age to Senna stood behind the counter and greeted us as we entered. “Good morning.” She smiled, then her eyes widened as she recognized me, and her hand came up to cover her mouth. “You’re … you’re Kaelan!”

I gave her a small bow. “I am. Is Valerie here?”

“She’s in the back,” the girl said, eyes still wide as she stared at me. She composed herself with an effort, then hurried farther into the shop. “Valerie!”

“Another girl that likes you,” Senna murmured with a teasing smile. I glanced at her in surprise, wondering what she saw that I didn’t. Not that I was interested in anyone beyond Senna and Lira.

“What is it?” came a gruff response. “Can’t you manage one customer, Tyra?”

“It’s not a customer!” Tyra hissed in a stage-whisper that traveled all too easily in the small, quiet shop. “It’s him!”

Senna shot me a look of amusement amidst a ‘told you so’ expression.

“Who ‘him’?” An exasperated sigh, followed by the noise of a chair scraping back. “Oh, very well. But I don’t know why I’m paying you if⁠—”

Valerie emerged from the back of the shop, the other girl hovering behind her. She stopped when she saw me, Tyra almost crashing into her back, then came forward again. Her lips were pressed thin, and her expression was guarded.

She wore similar clothes to the evening before, in browns and greens and cut from simple cloth. Yet they were styled for function and form, clinging to her body and leaving no material that might snag or rustle. It was obvious she was as much a huntress as she was a fletcher.

“Good morning,” I said, giving her a nod and a smile. “You did say I could come to call. Is this a convenient time?”

She walked up to the counter, glancing briefly at Senna before returning her gaze to me.

“What do you want?” she said curtly.

“Val!” the other girl gasped, shocked by the tone. Valerie ignored her.

“Two things, actually. The first is the easy one. I wonder if my companion here could borrow a bow and a place to train? She would like to learn to shoot today.”

Beside me, Senna smiled and bounced on her toes with enthusiasm.

Valerie looked at Senna, her expression coming as close to relaxing as I’d ever seen from her. “Have you shot before?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What makes you think you can?”

That was a blunt question, but I kept my silence and hid a smile. I suspected Valerie knew full well what she was doing.

Senna bristled. “I am determined, ma’am. I wish to learn to defend myself.”

Valerie cocked an eyebrow. “A bow isn’t a defensive weapon.”

Senna’s chin came up. “It is when I’m shooting those who are threatening to attack me. Or my friends.”

Valerie almost smiled. “Tyra can teach you. My sister is quite proficient.” She turned to the other girl. “Find—” She glanced inquiringly at Senna.

“Senna, ma’am.”

“—Senna a suitable starting bow. Twenty-five-pound draw to start. And get her a bracer, too.”

Tyra gave her a smile. “Would you like to come with me, Senna?”

Senna followed her, practically skipping in her eagerness.

“Thank you,” I said to Valerie. She’d handled it with efficient professionalism, reinforcing my suspicions that she did all things that way.

“Your second request?” Valerie gave the impression that she was keen for me to be gone; I hoped that would mellow when she knew why I’d come.

“My second request is a personal one. I would like to hire your skills to build a particular type of bow.”

Valerie frowned. “You can order a bow, but I have a bit of a backlog. You may have to wait a few weeks.”

I nodded in understanding, hopeful her view would soon be changing. “There’s something specific I’d like you to build for me. Are you willing to experiment?”

She gave me a long look. “I make bows of the highest quality, sir, and they are for function, not show. If you wish some fancy design, I am not the fletcher for you.”

It seemed she really didn’t like me.

“I am after something quite unique, but I assure you it is function that is my goal. Perhaps I could sketch for you what I have in mind?”

Her lips twitched as though she were trying not to scowl. Then she fetched parchment and a stick of charcoal and handed them to me with obvious reluctance.

I swiftly drew the shape of an un-strung recurve bow as best I could from memory. It didn’t look quite right, and I scratched it out and drew it again. I was happier with the second attempt.

“That is a poor design,” Valerie said, watching me. “It won’t work. The shaft is too straight.” She gestured to the ends of the line I’d drawn. “The ends don’t curve enough. There’ll be no power.”

“That’s because you’re looking at it the wrong way around.” I pointed at the drawing. “That’s the back of the bow, that’s the front.”

She scoffed. “The limbs curve away from the archer at the tips. Are you trying to shoot behind yourself?”

“Let me show you.” I used the charcoal stick again, drawing another image in line with the first, this time adding the bowstring and sketching the bow taut and ready to be fired. I lifted it up so she could see. “Do you see how the curve of the wood is pulled back, harnessing the power?”

Valerie’s eyes widened, and she grasped the sheet, tugging it from my hand. She stared at it for a long moment, not even looking away as she spoke. “Where have you seen this?”

I cleared my throat, dissembling. “It was just an idea I had.”

“An idea you had,” she echoed, fixing me with her stare. “You’ve never seen a bow like this?”

“Not anywhere around here.” That was true enough.

If anything, her stare grew more penetrating still, and I fought the urge to squirm. Instead, I gave her a relaxed smile. Her presence held a calm, practiced authority, a steadiness that hinted at a lifetime of hard-won skill. A spark of intrigue flickered within me, drawn by the challenge in her eyes. I held her gaze, hoping she could see the potential of what I asked and would be willing to at least try.

“Why do you think it will work?”

She was asking all the right questions, but I didn’t have easy answers. “If the wood is limber enough, the principle is sound,” I hazarded. “The spring of the wood should contribute to the power.”

Valerie looked again at the diagram, taking the charcoal stick from me without looking. She drew swiftly, with precise, practiced strokes, muttering to herself. “Need flexibility … yew. No … the wood will snap. Reinforce with … horn. Wrap with sinew.”

She went on like this, and I turned away, inspecting some of the arrowheads she had on display in a holder mounted on the wall nearby.

“Very well,” she said a while later. I turned back to her, keeping my excitement in check. “This idea bears further study. I have seasoned yew I could use for this.”

“How long would it take?”

She shrugged. “A week, maybe two.”

“A week?” Damn, I had hoped to get something much faster than that.

“I need to shape the wood, carve the limbs and handle, then use steaming to give it flexibility.” She waved her hand at the parchment. “Adjustments will need to be made, for it is unlikely to get something this complicated correct on the first try. Then smoothing, sanding, oiling…”

“How long for a prototype?”

She glanced up. “What’s a prototype?”

I shook my head, irritated at myself. “How long for an initial attempt?”

“Something coarse to test the principle … I could maybe have something done by the end of today. But it wouldn’t be useable, just a test.”

I nodded. That was encouraging. She also wasn’t talking about her backlog anymore. “That would be awesome. How much will it cost?”

She cocked her head, reviewing the design, her eyes gleaming with fervor. “If this works … if we can get a finished product along these lines … it’ll cost you nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Assuming I can use the design to make my own bow.”

I grinned. “That sounds like a deal. And if it doesn’t work?”

She shrugged. “Two hundred gold for the time and resources, five more for training Senna.”

“That sounds fair.” I had that much from the necromancer’s purse.

“Then get out. Leave me to work. I will come and find you when I’m done.” She lay the parchment down on one of her workbenches and leaned over it.

I grinned again. Lira would’ve had a fit if she’d heard Valerie talk to me like that. “Do you mind if I watch Senna’s training?”

Valerie didn’t respond, her focus intense as she began to sketch on a new piece of parchment. I figured she’d neither notice nor care if I joined Senna and Tyra and made my way through the shop to find them.

Chapter 50

Developments and Departures

Valerie had built a small archery range behind her shop, little more than a thin patch of grass that ran down to the town wall, against which she’d mounted some straw targets. It was pleasant enough, despite its simplicity. There was even a tree against which I sat, its branches offering some shade from the heat of the day.

The hours rolled slowly by as I watched Tyra teaching Senna, who was showing remarkable dedication and fortitude. Tyra allowed her regular breaks, but each time they stopped, it was Senna who was keen to get back to it.

“A little more with your hips … Good, now keep your elbow flat as you draw.”

There was the distinctive zzzip-thwap of another arrow fired into the straw target.

“Better.” Tyra nodded.

It wasn’t just better. For a first time, it was impressive. Senna had been at it for most of the day, but she’d made faster progress than I had when I’d trained myself in the meadow outside the goblin mine. Granted, she had one-on-one instruction from Tyra while I’d taught myself, but still, her skills were coming on in leaps and bounds.

Curious, I pulled up her character sheet.

I stared at Senna in surprise. She was already level 6! Her Archery was up to 8 after only a day! She’d gained a base point in Agility—plus the bonus from Marisa’s boots—and a number of skills I was sure she hadn’t had before. Among them was Love. Not just for me, but for Lira, too.

If this was the benefit of my companion-boosting God power, she could soon be a force to reckon with in her own right. I needed to figure out how to get her a Class.

It had been too long since I’d looked at Lira’s stats; I wondered how much she’d grown and whether her sheet also showed more Love. I made a mental note to have a look when I saw her later.

Valerie walked out of her shop, a small unstrung bow in her hands. It was rough wood, coarse and unfinished, but the limbs were in the distinctive style of a recurve. She’d used horn for strength on either side of the grip and bound it tightly.

I pushed myself up as she walked over, and both Senna and Tyra stopped, too.

“That was fast,” I said.

She gave me a distracted glance, still focused on the bow she held. Then she placed one end against the instep of her boot, bent with it with a little effort, and strung it.

“It’s not likely to work,” she said, her tone as direct as I’d come to expect from her. “It’s just so I can see what I need to change.”

“It’s smaller than I thought.” It would be too small for me, but it might be perfect for Senna. With her Archery ranking so fast, I’d have to commission one for her as well.

Valerie looked scathing. “It’s not for you. It’s to test the concept.”

“Oh.” This woman really didn’t seem to like me. I was pretty sure she was laying the troubles of Taralith at my feet, and perhaps that was partly fair. If I didn’t deal with Drakos soon, things would only get worse for this town. “Perhaps Senna could try it?”

Valerie appraised the girl critically. “I suppose there’s no harm. It’s a smaller bow than the one she’s been using, but the pull is comparatively greater.”

Senna took it from her, eyeing it with skepticism. “Is this a child’s bow?”

My lips twitched as I saw Valerie’s face. I quickly stepped forward. “No, it’s a new idea. My idea, to be precise. Would you mind trying it out?”

“Oh.” Senna glanced between us, then shrugged. “Sure.”

She nocked an arrow, aiming toward the target, then drew.

There was a twang as the string snapped, the arrow falling off.

“Oh, sorry.” Senna blushed.

Valerie muttered to herself, walking off back into the shop.

Senna looked guilty. “I didn’t mean to break it. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think you have, it’s just the string. She’s probably gone to get a stronger one.” I gave Senna a smile. “She doesn’t use her words a lot. Don’t let it bother you.”

“My sister is a bit odd,” Tyra agreed, then added hastily, “but she’s very good at what she does.”

Valerie was soon back out. “Twisted sinew,” she muttered by way of explanation. “Stronger than the linen I usually use.”

She soon had the bow re-strung and returned it to Senna, who eyed it warily but nocked another arrow. She drew and let fly, and the arrow cleared the top of the targets and embedded itself several inches into the wood of the town wall.

“Sorry,” Senna said. “It had more power than I was expecting.”

Valerie almost smiled. “Let me try.”

She took the bow off Senna, accepting an arrow from Tyra, and aimed at the targets. Again the arrow cleared their tops, thudding into the wood beside Senna’s.

“You missed!” Tyra said in surprise.

“Power is greater than I expected.” She flicked her eyes my way, then took another arrow. This one landed in the center of the target, and it punched through the straw until barely the flight was left.

“How much more power would you estimate?” I asked with interest.

Valerie considered the bow in her hands. “This is smaller than the one Senna was using, though its draw is about the same. If the bows were the same size, I would expect this to be a third as powerful again.” She shrugged. “But this one isn’t. Its balance is off, and it needs more refinement.” She inspected the bow carefully. “Dammit, the wood has already split.” She tilted the shaft to show me where the yew had come away from the bone she’d used, and a thin crack was visible through the grain. “Your idea is sound, Kaelan, but implementing it will take me some time. I’ll need to steam the wood for greater flexibility…” she trailed off, staring at the bow and thinking her thoughts.

Senna clapped her hands, drawing our eyes. “It’s been a wonderful day, and we’ve achieved so much! Thank you, Tyra, for teaching me. And, Valerie, the new bow shows so much potential. Won’t you both join us for dinner to celebrate? I’m sure we’re all hungry.”

I gave my girl a grin. She was kind and spirited and always knew what to say.

“What a great idea!” Tyra said. “Can we, Valerie?”

Valerie made a face. “I should work on the bow.”

“There’s no rush on that,” I said. It was going to take a couple of weeks at least, and I had one I could use for now. “We all need food, and the time away might give you fresh, creative ideas.”

She looked surprised. “Well, that’s true. It does work like that sometimes.”

“That’s settled, then!” Senna smiled. “Meet at the Hound in an hour?”

We said our goodbyes and walked back through the town, Senna talking excitedly about her training all the way back.

“Not too sore?” I asked, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“Very sore,” she admitted, “but I’m not going to let that stop me. I can’t wait to tell Lira all about it.” She frowned, her mood changing quickly. “I wonder where she went today.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

But Lira wasn’t back by the time we’d washed and found a table for dinner. Valerie and Tyra joined us soon after, and Zevrin brought out a steaming pot of beef stew, hunks of bread to dip into it, with a plate of boiled greens.

We tucked in together, all the girls eating hungrily. I’d done little today and was content with a small plate, but Senna ate enough for both of us. Tyra talked about her hunting, trying to draw Valerie in, but the serious woman said little.

“Were you married before?” Senna asked her, out of the blue, cutting off Tyra in mid-story about a troublesome deer she’d been pursuing.

Valerie had kept her eyes largely on her plate but now looked up. For a moment, I wasn’t sure she was going to answer. And then she did. “I was.”

Tyra was subtly shaking her head, but Senna ignored her and plowed on. “What happened?”

“I killed him,” Valerie said, in the same tone one might use to comment on the weather.

Tyra rolled her eyes. “Anyway, so the deer ran into the stream, and I⁠—”

“Why?” Senna said, her gaze fixed on Valerie.

Valerie shrugged. “He deserved it.” She pointedly ignored looking at me, then took interest again in her food.

“Good, then,” Senna said, as if that was that. Valerie glanced up at her in surprise, then gave another of her almost-smiles. “What about you, Tyra?”

“Oh, I’m not married. I don’t want to be, either.” Tyra gave a small shrug, just one shoulder. “Besides, they’d have to get past Valerie first.” She gave her sister a fond smile.

“I’ll beat the crap out of anyone that touches you,” Valerie muttered, then gave me a challenging look.

I leaned back in my chair, raising my hands in placation. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Kaelan is wonderful,” Senna said, sliding her hand onto my thigh beneath the table. “He’d never dream of hurting anyone.” She nodded to the tavern serving girl. “He stood up for Melissa, too.”

The girl in question heard her name and came over to our table, one hand coming to rest on my shoulder with a casual familiarity I found surprising. “I heard that,” she said with a smile. “Kaelan is my hero.” She looked at me with doe eyes. “Can I get you another drink?”

“Er … sure. Another beer, thank you.”

Melissa smiled and left with a swish of her skirt, apparently having forgotten to ask anyone else what they might want.

Valerie was looking reproving. “I get why you did it,” she said, her voice low and terse, “but you’ve made it worse for everyone.”

Lira had said the same. Perhaps they were both right, but I wasn’t sure. I kept my tone calm. “Not only would Melissa have suffered that evening, but unchecked, Drakos’ men would’ve only been encouraged by their success. Men like that don’t stop by themselves.”

Tyra was watching me, fear in her eyes.

Senna squeezed my thigh. “I think Kaelan did the right thing. But now we have to keep Drakos’ men out of Taralith.”

“Exactly!” Valerie said in exasperation, her eyes flashing angrily as she looked between Senna and me. “And how will we do that, when he’ll just send so many that we can’t possibly defend ourselves?” She leaned back in her chair, gesturing at us. “You’re strangers here. Been with us for barely a handful of days. You’ll leave, and Drakos’ men will come again, looking for those who have gone missing. When they don’t find them ... it’ll be revenge they want.” Valerie shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m eating with you.” She pushed herself up as if to leave.

It was the most she’d said in one go, and it was an accusation laid firmly at my feet. “You’re right,” I said, and she hesitated long enough to stare at me. “Except that I have no intention of leaving Taralith without protection.”

Valerie scoffed. “You’re going to take on his whole army single-handed?”

“No,” I said, quietly. “I’m going to kill Drakos.”

She fell back into her chair. “You’re going to do what?”

“He’s going to kill Drakos,” Senna said, her voice a little louder than I would’ve preferred. The common room wasn’t empty, and I didn’t want to scare people here.

“By yourself?” Valerie raised an eyebrow.

“Lira and I are going to help,” Senna said, her chin coming up.

I lay my hand over hers on my thigh. She wasn’t going to help, but this wasn’t the time to tell her.

“I’ve fought him once before,” I told Valerie. “But I’m stronger now and growing stronger still. Next time I fight him, I’m going to kill him.”

She scoffed again. “You fought Drakos and lived? I don’t believe you.”

I gave a small smile. There was no point explaining I hadn’t lived at all. “I didn’t win,” I said instead, “but next time I will.”

She shook her head. “You’ll get yourself killed is what you’ll do.” A little sigh. “Maybe your death will mean they leave Taralith alone, but … I doubt it.” Her glare was back, aimed right at me.

“You could help,” Senna said, leaning forward. “You’re amazing with a bow, and you’ve already helped.”

Valerie shook her head. “I did no such thing,” she said, her voice firm as she glanced quickly around. Then her voice lowered. “All I did was speed up the removal of some … pests in my town.” She jerked her chin at me. “He’d already started it and would likely have finished it, too. I just made it go a bit faster.”

But Senna wasn’t to be denied. “Lira will tell you. Kaelan is going to stop Drakos, and Lira is his High P⁠—”

I cleared my throat loudly. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?” I said. “Where is she, anyway? It’s getting late.” I called Zevrin over, and he came with a smile. “Is Lira back yet?”

“No, Kaelan. I don’t expect her back tonight.”

“Oh?” I said, a tingle running down my spine. “Why not?”

“Well, she took food for two days.”

Senna stiffened beside me. “Two days?” I echoed.

“Yes. Travel rations.”

I pushed myself up. “Which way did she go?”

Zevrin took a pace back. “Er … I’m not sure.” He glanced around the tavern, his eyes coming to rest on a man in militia uniform. “Drent, did you see a girl leave on a horse this morning?”

The man shook his head. “Not my gate.”

“She went through mine,” said another militia, sitting near Drent.

“Which gate?” I asked him urgently.

“West.”

“Oh no,” Senna said, staring at me with wide eyes. “Oh Lira … I knew it! That stubborn girl!”

“What is it?” Zevrin said.

He was watching me, and so were Valerie and Tyra.

My mind went back to the conversation I’d had with Lira the night before.

“How long will it take for you to gain the strength you need?” Lira had asked me, and I’d told her ‘weeks’.

She hadn’t been happy to hear that, but stupidly, I’d thought she’d accepted it.

But then further fragments came back to me.

“I’ll do what must be done,” I assured her.

“Yes,” she said, thoughtful again. “We must all do what must be done.”

She had accepted it. She’d just decided not to wait, to take matters into her own hands instead.

Senna was still staring. “She’s gone, hasn’t she?”

I grimaced, meeting Senna’s gaze.

“Gone where?” Valerie said.

“After Drakos,” I said. “Alone.”

Chapter 51

Haste and Hope

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until the morning?” Zevrin asked, watching me saddle my mare.

He held a lantern in one hand, its light illuminating the stable yard. It was already late, and I was keen to be away.

“She’s already a day ahead of us,” I said grimly. “I need to catch her before she reaches Norathil.”

“It’s too dark to see the road.”

“Then we’ll make what speed we can.”

“You’re going to need to sleep, my friend.” He handed me the sack of provisions he’d reluctantly pulled together at my insistence.

I stuffed it into my saddlebags. “I’ll sleep when I’ve stopped her.”

Senna checked her stirrups, then mounted her new gelding, determined to join the ride despite my earlier suggestion she stay behind. With Zevrin’s blessing, we’d upgraded her pony for this trip, and he’d waived payment. The bow she’d been practicing with was looped across her shoulders, and a quiver of arrows was on her belt, opposite her knife.

I mounted my horse and wheeled it toward the square outside. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Good luck,” Zevrin said as he watched us ride out.

We headed through the square and turned west: the road to Norathil. It was an eighty-mile journey, a two-day ride if we pushed the horses. Taralith was almost due east of the city; we were closer to the capital here than we had been in Fernwick, to the south, and the road was such that we would make good time.

Unfortunately, that meant Lira would, too.

We hadn’t even made it to the gate out of the town before we heard another set of hooves cantering along behind us. I pulled up, looking back in surprise. Was it Lira? Had she returned after all and was now coming to stop us?

But it wasn’t Lira. Valerie rode up, dressed in her usual browns and greens, her bow slung across her back.

I raised an eyebrow. “Late to go hunting, isn’t it?”

“Depends what you’re hunting,” she said as she drew alongside.

“I thought you didn’t want to provoke Drakos any further.”

“I don’t.” She gave me one of her penetrating, challenging stares. “But neither can I stand by while innocents throw their lives away for you.”

The ‘for you’ stung, but I couldn’t argue with it.

I nodded, kicking my horse forward, and together, the three of us passed through the gate, quickly leaving Taralith behind.

The road was broad. Hardened mud on what may have once been cobbles, the stones beneath giving it some support. The rain of the night before had dried under the day’s sun, and nothing slowed our pace. With any luck, Lira would’ve found the journey harder, and we would be able to catch up with her. She’d had no need to rush, and that also played to our advantage. But with Norathil only two days away, and Lira a day ahead of us, we had no time to take it easy.

Yet it quickly became apparent that it was too dark for the horses to see, and though the road looked clear enough with my night vision, our mounts were struggling. They’d already stumbled a handful of times, and Senna had been nearly thrown.

“We’ll lose the horses if we don’t rein in,” Valerie called out. “At this pace, it’s only a matter of time until they are all lame.”

I slowed down, cursing. At least Lira would’ve stopped for the night, and we were moving while she was sleeping. If she’d walked her horse, we were making the same speed.

“There are inns every fifteen or twenty miles on this road,” Valerie told me. “Four, maybe five, between here and Norathil. She might’ve stopped at the first one.”

Those distances were what a man might expect to cover in a day on foot or with a cart. Our horses could manage better at a walk, or double it if we pushed them. For now, it was too dark to do more than walk them. Valerie was right. The horses could easily injure themselves, and then we would be forced to double up, slowing us further. I itched to ride on ahead, alone, but Senna was watching me like a hawk, as if she expected me to try. And it would do no good if my own horse stumbled and threw me or injured itself.

Perhaps Valerie was right, and Lira hadn’t pushed her horse. If so, she’d have stopped at the first tavern, fifteen or twenty miles away. “If we ride all night, we’ll be at the first one by morning.”

Valerie nodded, and without my night vision, it would’ve been too dark to see. There were a few clouds blocking many of the stars, and the moon was a sliver, giving off little light. “We might just miss her, but if so, we can catch her on the road.”

We fell into silence, the only sound the beat of our horses’ hooves. It left me alone with my thoughts, and they were grim.

I should’ve seen this coming. Lira wasn’t just leaving for my sake, she was carrying the weight of Valorah on her shoulders. She’d been lying when we saw her in the stables that morning, and I missed it, caught up in her flush, her excuses.

And dammit, that meant she knew I’d come after her.

She wasn’t going to walk her horse. She’d be pushing for Norathil, expecting me to pursue.

“She won’t be at the first inn,” I said into the silence that had fallen between us. “She won’t have stopped, I’m certain of it. How long until we make the second?”

Valerie turned my way, her eyes reflecting what little moonlight there was. “If she rode hard today, she’ll be at the second tavern for the night. Forty miles, give or take.” She gave a shrug. “We’ll cover less than half that during the night. If we ride hard tomorrow, we could reach that tavern by lunch, maybe early afternoon.”

By which point she’d be a half-day ahead of us, and traveling at the same speed. Moreover, she’d have rested, and we wouldn’t. Neither would our horses.

I cursed again, frustration tightening in my chest. We had no choice but to keep going, to hope I was wrong. But I knew Lira. She was pushing herself—and her horse—hard, just as she always pushed herself, driven by the guilt of what she couldn’t save. And I couldn’t let her face that alone.

If she reached Norathil before we found her, we’d lose her. She knew the city, while I did not.

“You’re right,” Valerie said, as she came back out of the inn. “They had no guests matching Lira’s description last night.”

I hadn’t even bothered to get off my horse. I gave her a nod, showing I’d heard, and waited for her to mount.

The sun had finally risen, and now we were able to make better time. I kicked my horse forward into a canter, keen to make up for lost time. But before I’d gone a dozen paces, Valerie’s voice cut through the air.

“Slow down, Kaelan!” Valerie called. “We can’t sustain this!”

She and Senna rode up as I let my horse fall back to a walk.

“I know you’re keen to catch Lira,” she said, “but our horses are already tired.” She gestured to the flank of my mare. Sweat lay slick on her coat, and her ribs heaved with each breath. “Push them like this and you’ll lame them.”

I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t oblivious to the state of my horse, but if the beast needed time to recover, it could have it when I’d found Lira. Yet Valerie had a point: if the horse gave out before I reached my High Priestess, I’d never catch her before she entered the city. Maybe we could trade them out for fresher mounts, but when this inn hadn’t had any to spare, there was no guarantee others would either.

“What do you suggest?” I asked. The huntress clearly knew more about horses than I did.

“Alternating trotting and walking,” Valerie instructed. Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. I clenched my jaw, hating that she was right. “We’ll still make it to the second tavern shortly after lunch.”

If Lira had spent the night there, we’d be more than half a day behind her. We’d gained ground. We just hadn’t gained enough.

I fell into a funk as we continued our journey. I couldn’t see how we’d catch up with Lira now.

The morning dwindled past in a never-ending rotation of walking and trotting our horses, and though I gained some ranks in riding, I paid little attention to anything but the horizon, hoping to see the next inn.

As Valerie had predicted, the sun had passed its zenith before at last I spotted it in the distance. The road widened as we approached, and was joined by another fork. An inn sat at the intersection, looking much like a large stone farmhouse with a board mounted above the door, swinging gently in a breeze. A picture of a large, tusked beast was painted beneath the words ‘Hungry Boar Tavern’.

“Are we stopping for food?” Senna asked as I reined up in front of the inn.

“Only if Lira’s here,” I said curtly. “Otherwise, we’ll keep going.”

Senna and Valerie exchanged a glance, but I ignored them. Slipping stiffly from my saddle, I tied my horse to a rein post and walked inside the tavern.

There was a small common room built from a dark, stained wood that gave the place a gloomy feel. A hearth added a little warmth and light. A couple of tables had patrons, while a further dozen or so were without. A man stood behind the counter, middle-aged and balding. He had enough of a stomach to show he liked the beer he sold and a large, hooked nose. I headed right for him. If Lira was here, there was nothing to worry about. If she wasn’t, I didn’t want to waste any more time than I had to.

“Afternoon,” I said as I approached. “Looking for a fellow traveler. Have you seen a young woman dressed in brown clothes, carrying a staff?”

The patrons in the tavern had heard me, and there was a palpable shift in the mood as they all froze. The proprietor flinched, telling me what I needed to know. He glanced me over, his gaze pausing on the rapier and dagger on my belt, then shifted his eyes away. “No, sir. I’ve not seen hide nor hair of a woman like that.”

I leaned on the counter and tried a smile. He’d clearly seen her; why wasn’t he admitting to it? “She’s a friend of mine, and I’m very keen to find her.”

“I’m sure, sir, I’m sure.” He picked up a pewter mug and began to wipe it with a cloth like barmen did every day whatever world they were on. “Maybe she’ll be along shortly. A beer, while you wait?”

What little patience I had was wearing thin. “Is she staying here?”

Again, his eyes flinched. “Don’t know who you mean, sir.”

I tried again. “I know she came through here. How about you tell me when it was, and I’ll be on my way?”

He shook his head, still not meeting my eyes. “Can’t tell you what I don’t know. How about a beer on the house?”

The man was sweating, his face red. Was he scared of something? Scared I wouldn’t like what I found out?

My patience snapped. I leaned across the counter, my fist closing in his shirt as I dragged him toward me, his breath sour in my face. "Last time, where is she?"

The entire room seemed to hold its breath. The innkeeper's eyes darted to the patrons, sweat slicking his forehead. Silence filled the space for a heartbeat longer than it should have.

Chairs scraped across the floor as the men rose together, and there was the familiar sound of blades leaving their sheaths.

“There’s only one of him,” a man with a beard growled. “We can take him and bury him in the field, too.”

I released the barman, who was no threat, turning as I drew my rapier and dagger. “What did you do with the woman, you bastards?”

There was a moment of hesitation as they looked at me, then looked between themselves, puzzlement forming. I’d expected them to attack me, and their sudden hesitation was surprising. I wondered if I should make the first move while they were confused, but something didn’t feel right.

The door opened, and Senna put her head in. She glanced around the room, seeing our blades out and the four men arrayed before me. Then she completely ignored them as she met my gaze. “We’ve got trouble. There’re four men on horses coming down the road from Norathil, and they’re wearing the black of Drakos’ men.”

Her words caused a stir amongst the patrons, their weapons lowering unconsciously as they looked between Senna and me.

“You’re not with Drakos?” one of them asked. He was a tall, skinny man with intelligent eyes, and they were narrowed as he appraised me.

I laughed, finally understanding. “Lira—the woman who came through here—you’re protecting her?” They stared at me still, and I shook my head. “No, I’m not with Drakos. Very much not with Drakos.”

Either they were trying to keep Lira’s presence a secret, or they’d done something to her and wanted to hush it up. If the former, I’d deal with Drakos’ men first, and we’d talk. If the latter … I’d kill them all, excruciatingly slowly.

“Stay here,” I said, stepping toward the door.

The men lowered their weapons further, though there was still an air of caution. “Those are Drakos’ men coming down the road! What are you planning to do?” the tall one asked.

“I’m going to kill them,” I said, sheathing my blades before I opened the door. “Back in a moment. Don’t go anywhere.”

Chapter 52

Feints and Fury

“About a hundred paces away, and they’ve spotted us,” Valerie said as soon as I stepped outside.

She’d dismounted and tied up her horse, her hand resting on the shaft of her bow, hidden from the approaching men by her stallion.

“Don’t shoot until they’re off their horses,” I said as I walked near my own horse, then leaned casually against the tethering post. “We can’t afford any of them escaping.”

“What about the men inside?” Senna said. She glanced at Valerie. “They had blades drawn in there.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “Misunderstanding, I think. I’ll deal with that after this.”

“You’re so popular everywhere you go,” Valerie muttered, loosening her hunting knife and short sword in their scabbards.

I chuckled at her comment, then, while waiting for the men to arrive, I pulled her info card out of curiosity.

She was a lot more than just a fletcher. My eyebrows rose up of their own accord. A ranger, no less. A real class—no mere peasant with a trade. She was even a half-elf, and my gaze flicked to the tops of her ears, which were as rounded as they’d ever been. I was beginning to wonder if elves had pointy ears on this world. Another illusion shattered.

“What?” she said, noticing my attention.

I gave her a smile. “Just admiring your form.”

She looked skeptical, then shook her head and turned her attention to the approaching men as they reined in on the road just outside the tavern.

“Afternoon,” I said cheerfully.

They ignored my greeting. One slid off his horse and led it toward the tether post where I stood.

“Get that for you?” I offered, in what I hoped was a pleasant tone.

“Out of my way,” he muttered.

“Of course.” I gave him a smile and walked around my own horse, moving into the open where I could better watch all four men. I needed them off their horses before we attacked. Perhaps something simple would work. “Here for lunch? I believe they’ve stopped serving.”

“They’ll serve us,” one of the men still mounted muttered. All of them wore sleeveless leather jerkins, but he had a tattoo swirling around one bicep, and he carried himself like their leader. Maybe he was a sergeant, or similar.

“I don’t think they will,” I said, sounding dismayed at the prospect of these fine gentlemen missing out on their meal. “We haven’t been here long ourselves, and the proprietor was quite clear about it.” I brightened. “They have some good beer.”

“Maybe these two wenches will serve us,” the sergeant said as he dismounted. Another of his men also slid down, leaving only one. The last was a small, shrew-looking man, and he leaned on his pommel as he watched me.

“The two ladies are with me,” I said, still smiling. “They don’t work here.”

“I don’t care,” the sergeant said, looking at Senna. Her horse was between them, and the sergeant had to walk around the animal to get an unobstructed view of her. It gave Senna time enough to re-secure her bow and slip her hand from it to the flank of her horse. She gave him a pat, ignoring the sergeant.

The man stopped a pace from her, running his eyes slowly over her. “You’ll come and serve me and my men, won’t you?”

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Senna said, her attention still on her horse, but a small smile played over her lips. To the sergeant, that smile might have been an encouragement. To me, it looked like Senna was an instant away from spilling blood.

The sharp-eyed man on the horse hadn’t dismounted, still watching me. Which meant he wasn’t watching Valerie.

Oh well, maybe we didn’t need all of them on the ground.

I clapped my hands loudly, drawing their eyes to me. “Well, now that you’re all here, maybe the proprietor will serve us, too. We should go in together. If you’re ready…?” I let the question trail in the air. “Then let’s go … now.”

Valerie was fast. An arrow was in the air before I’d even finished speaking, and it took the shrewd man in the side of the neck.

Senna had disappeared, only to reappear behind another of the men with a blink of her magic boots. She stabbed her dagger into his back, pulled it out, and drove it in again.

They’d both moved so quickly that the sergeant and the man near my horse had only just begun to notice something was amiss, both stunned in shock, their eyes widening.

I drew my blades, and the sergeant growled and pulled his, too. There was another twang, and the other man gasped. Senna appeared behind him a moment later, drawing her knife across his throat for good measure.

“Do you want help with this one?” she asked me sweetly. “He did so want me to serve him.”

“You’ve already had two,” I told her, without taking my eyes off the sergeant. “Maybe check if the short, shrewd one is dead.”

The man in question fell off his horse, hitting the dirt with a dull thud. I didn’t turn, but it had carried a ring of finality about it.

“Looks pretty dead,” Senna said, then bent and wiped her blade clean on the man whose throat she’d just cut.

The sergeant looked from me to Senna and back again, his face growing redder by the second. I took a pace toward him, ensuring I was nearer to him than Senna was. I didn’t want him getting any ideas, even if she could blink again.

He focused on me, just as I’d wanted, his eyes narrowing and his blades coming up. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Then he lunged.

A moment later, I drew my blade from his body, and he slumped to the ground, eyes wide as his life drained from them. I bent and cleaned my blade on his shirt; there wasn’t much blood. All in all, it had been quite unsatisfying. Both the women had done far more than I had, and I’d wanted to take out some of my angst at not finding Lira on Drakos’ scum. I sighed and sheathed my blades.

“I’ll see if our friends inside are more willing to talk now.”

There were faces in the windows of the tavern as I walked toward it, but they saw me coming and pulled back swiftly. I checked my blades were loose in their sheaths, but I didn’t think I’d need them.

The five men were staring as I walked in, and none of the patrons had their weapons drawn. The man behind the counter was finishing pouring a tankard of beer, and he set it on the bar for me.

“So, I’m guessing you thought I was one of Drakos’ men?” I said as I made my way to the bar, gratefully accepted the beer, and took a long drink.

The proprietor ducked his head. “Leathers, weapons, asking questions about the priestess … yeah. Sorry about that.”

“His leathers aren’t black,” one of the patrons noted, as if that were obvious and the mistake was never his. No one pointed out that he’d been slow to make that observation before.

“I think I’ve demonstrated I’m not with Drakos,” I confirmed again, wiping beer froth from my beard. “Now. Where is my friend?”

I hadn’t missed them calling her a priestess, so it was no surprise when they finally told me what had happened.

“She was in here last night. She came late, and there were three of Drakos’ men.” The proprietor shook his head. “Being on the fork, they come by quite often. One road goes to Taralith, the other to Windhaven. We get a lot of traffic.”

“Uh-huh.” I’d guessed what came next, but I wished he’d get on with it.

“Drakos’ men were getting … rowdy. You know, the way they do.” The proprietor grimaced. “They took an unwelcome interest in your lady friend and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Next thing I knew, she’d splattered them over the walls of the common room.”

“She does that.” I gave a dry laugh. “Sorry about it.”

The balding man shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s dark wood. Cleans up easy enough.”

“And three less of Drakos’ scum,” one of the patrons said, then spat into the hearth.

“That, too.” The proprietor gave a sigh. “We’ll toss the bodies into the grave across the field and turn the horses loose.”

“We’ll take the horses, if it’s all the same to you. They’re fresher than ours.”

He waved his hand in a gesture I took to suggest he didn’t care one way or the other.

“Where is the priestess now?” I asked, trying to keep a rein on my patience. If she were still here, they’d have told me. I already knew she’d left, and we were at least half a day behind her.

“She left early this morning, heading for Norathil.”

I gave a sigh as he confirmed what I’d expected. “Then we’ll be on our way.” I took my purse from my belt, spilling a handful of coins to the bar. “Thank you for the drink and the clean-up.”

The proprietor stepped back, shaking his head. “I’m not taking your money. Not after we almost attacked you, and then you helped rid us of some of Drakos’ scum.” He nodded to the patrons. “My regulars and I will be only too happy to tidy this up, won’t we, lads?”

There came a chorus of ‘ayes’, and a couple of nods.

“Besides, I’ve just gained three horses off of you.” The proprietor grinned.

I gave a short laugh. “I suppose you have. I guess that makes us all square.” I scooped my money back into my purse, walked to the door, and gave them a nod before stepping outside.

Valerie and Senna were already mounted.

“Left already?” Senna asked.

“Yes.” I pulled off my saddlebags, switching them to one of the fresher horses. The women quickly followed my lead. “We’re a half-day behind her, but at least these beasts have more run in them.” I mounted my new horse. “She’ll be at Norathil this evening, and we won’t be.”

“We might still find her in the city,” Valerie said, climbing into her saddle.

“Do you know the city?” I asked.

The ranger shrugged. “A little.”

“Let’s ride, then. We’ll aim to hit the next tavern by evening and stop for the night. No point walking into Norathil exhausted.”

Both women made noises of agreement, and it was the right decision.

But I couldn’t help but feel that each minute wasted was another one where Lira might be in danger.

She’d managed three of Drakos’ men easily enough, but her Shaman’s staff had limited daily uses, and she was walking into a nest of vipers.

The sky darkened as we headed west, rain clouds forming above. They blotted out the sun, casting a gloom that suited my mood.

I’d hoped to reach Lira before she did something that got her killed, and it tore me up inside to know I was, yet again, too slow for what she needed me to be.

Chapter 53

Fervor and Faith

We were still fifteen miles short of Norathil when night fell. The heads of our horses were drooping with fatigue, with barely the strength to carry us at a walk.

When at last a tavern emerged from the gloom, the girls didn’t need to beg me to stop. I knew we could go no farther. We were as exhausted as our mounts, having ridden all night and all day.

The tavern was one of the larger ones we’d seen, built of flint and timber, and welcoming light shone warmly from its windows. We steered into the embrace of its courtyard, leaving our horses with a stable hand. I paid him extra for a bran mash and rub down for all our beasts, and Valerie surprised me with a nod of approval.

Senna was suffering as she stiffly dismounted, wincing at the pain in her legs and back. Valerie was faring much better, but she was an accomplished rider. What discomfort I felt was small penance for knowing I’d failed, that Lira was already in Norathil, and we were too far away to lend assistance.

A mere fifteen miles short of our goal. I couldn’t help but think of it as a twenty-minute taxi ride, and yet tomorrow, we’d have a half-day’s travel before we reached the city. Lira would be long gone within its walls. How were we to find her?

We entered the inn with caution, expecting to see men in the black leathers of Drakos’ soldiers, but for once, luck was on our side. The common room was half-full, the mood cheery and the conversation loud. A comely serving wench took one look at our road-weary state and waved us to a large table in the corner, with the promise of food and drink.

I grasped her wrist as she made to turn away. “Have you seen a lone woman come through in the last day? Carrying a staff?”

“No, sir,” she said. “None like that.”

Letting her go, I followed the girls to our table and slumped down in my chair. I hadn’t thought Lira would stop here; she’d have passed earlier in the day and known she could make Norathil by nightfall. It had been my last hope.

“We’ll find her tomorrow,” Senna said, trying to reassure me.

“We know where she’s likely to be heading,” Valerie added. “With any luck, she won’t have made her move, but chosen to scout first. We might still be able to intercept her.”

I nodded, saying nothing. I’d also come to the conclusion that Lira might not act immediately, and that meant that I could. If I reached Drakos first, I could challenge him. Lira would hear of it and know I was warning her off. He’d kill me again, but that was of no great concern.

We took rooms, the cots small with coarse linen and mattresses likely full of bedbugs, but we were too weary to care. Senna took one look at the state of the bed and chose, for the first time, to sleep in her shirt. The warmth of her body was still a welcome comfort.

“You’re brooding, Kaelan,” she murmured as she lay against me. I’d thought she was already asleep.

“Just thinking on tomorrow.”

“We’ll find her before she does anything rash. Have faith.”

Faith. That was an interesting choice of words. How badly had I let Lira down after she put so much faith in me?

A finger prodded my ribs hard enough to make me wince. “I can hear you brooding still,” Senna said, her words muffled by my chest. “What would Lira think if she were here?”

“She’d think I should’ve killed Drakos by now.” I knew this was true.

Senna propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at me. The room was so dark she could likely only sense a hint of my face, but my night vision let me see the determination in her eyes.

“You’re wrong, you know. She’s never blamed you for what’s happened. She’s never had anything but faith in your decisions, and faith that you will grow in strength until you challenge and kill him. She told me so.”

That word again. Twice, no less.

“Then why did she leave?”

Senna gave a sigh. “It hurts her to see the people of Valorah suffer. She’s a priestess; it’s in her nature to help those who can’t help themselves.”

She was right, yet what was Lira expecting to achieve? “Do you think she has some plan other than to challenge Drakos?”

“I have considered it.” Senna sounded thoughtful. “It’s possible she’s gone to the priesthood of Sharlath and asked them for help.”

Lira had been disdainful of the priesthood. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

“No, sadly, neither do I. She didn’t seem to think much of them. It’s a possibility, though.”

It was a possibility. If nothing else came up first, I’d explore it. “And if not there?”

“Then she’ll have gone after Drakos.” Senna gave another sigh. “She has grown in strength these past weeks. Perhaps she’s capable of killing him herself.”

I marveled at the girl lying next to me. She was both perceptive and resilient—hell, her info sheet showed both stats were way above my own. She didn’t have the advantage I had of seeing Lira’s information displayed before my eyes, and yet she knew her as well as I did. Maybe better. It had been too long since I’d pulled Lira’s information, and for a moment, I wondered why I hadn’t. But I knew the answer to that: I hadn’t wanted to see her Faith and Devotion dwindle with each passing day I failed to fulfill the task for which she’d summoned me.

And that was just cowardice.

“You’re right,” I said in as strong a voice as I could muster. “You’re both right. I need to stop brooding and work out what I’m going to do.”

Resilience has gained a rank. Resilience is now level 7.

How was that for ironic timing? Yet I did feel more hopeful.

“What we are going to do,” Senna corrected.

I gave a short laugh. “Right again. We’re stronger together. Tomorrow, we have a half-day ride to Norathil, giving us plenty of time to think. We’ll have a plan by the time we arrive.”

Senna nodded, then leaned forward to kiss me. She was slightly off-target in the dark, and I raised my lips to welcome hers. “I have faith in you too, Kaelan. I know we’ll win.”

It was up to me to ensure their faith was well placed.

I hadn’t seen much of the city on my first visit, just the temple complex where Lira had summoned me, and where I’d died more times than I cared to remember.

It had begun to rain in a steady drizzle, the clouds a uniform, uninspiring grey.

The temple had been on the southern edge of the city, and we were approaching from the east. Even this far away, the pyramid rose toward the cloudy sky, visible above the complex of buildings at its base. Seeing it again sent a shiver down my spine.

High, ancient walls of stone ringed the city, with towers on either side of the eastern gate flying Norathil’s flag—twin parallel curves representing the river that flowed through it. Slate roofs and the tops of timber-framed buildings jutted beyond the wall, squashed together in a chaotic jumble.

“Where would Drakos most likely be found?” I asked Valerie as we rode toward the eastern gate.

“There’s a palace in the south of the city,” she replied. “Our king was killed in the first battle, so most likely, he’ll be there.”

“Then that’s where Lira will be.”

The guards at the city gate sat around idle in heavy chainmail, Norathil’s twin-curved crest on their breastplates, indifferent to our arrival. There were many folks coming and going, some with carts, but most on foot. We rode through unaccosted. It was much like Taralith, only far larger, more crowded, and smellier. The houses were closer together, more people in the streets, and I took to breathing through my mouth.

“Does it always stink like this?”

“Pretty much,” Valerie said. “There’s a river that enters from the north, runs through the center, and out through the west. That smells even worse.”

It was likely where the sewage was dumped, and in a city this size, that was a lot of shit. I wondered how they avoided disease, but then Norathil was no different from every medieval city on Earth. The reality was that disease couldn’t be avoided, not with such primitive knowledge, but still, people survived.

“And the palace?”

“We head south, past the market.”

We made our way through streets barely large enough for two carts to pass. It was the middle of the day, and many citizens went about their business, though none spared us more than a glance. Houses on either side pressed close, the occasional dark and narrow alleyway promising rats and a quick relief of a purse for the unwary.

As we headed farther south, the houses grew larger, and the smell gradually improved. Either that or I’d gotten used to it. It made sense for the wealthier districts to be close to the palace.

Then we rounded a corner, and the top of the palace came into sight above the houses. It was more a castle than a palace, stone walls rising to battlements, squat round towers at each corner. It was smaller than I’d expected, little more than four times the size of Zevrin’s inn, but it was still the largest building by far. A tavern stood nearby, unsurprisingly called the King’s Head. Smoke curled from its chimney, and there was music and light within.

“Let’s stop here.” I reined in. “We can stable the horses and continue on foot.”

Stealth was the preferred option, and our mounts were too obvious.

There was a small stable yard to the rear of the inn, and we left our mounts with the grooms and went inside. In one corner, two bards were playing stringed instruments while a third sang, and while the patrons seemed to be enjoying it, I wasn’t a fan. With a wince, I made my way to the counter and asked the innkeeper for news of a woman traveling alone. His indifferent shrug told me he either hadn’t seen Lira or didn’t care enough to notice. He wasn’t impressed when we declined the midday meal and charged excessively for the use of his stables. We made our way back to the street outside, my purse considerably lighter.

“Do you have a plan, Kaelan?” Senna asked me. Valerie stood nearby, her arms folded.

I did have a plan. It wasn’t entirely sane, but it was the only one I could come up with.

I took her hand. “I need you to trust me.”

She nodded slowly, her brow furrowing as she appraised me. “That’s your way of saying I’m not going to like your plan, isn’t it?”

I grinned. “Always so perceptive.” Then I sobered. “I need to know I can count on you.”

“Of course you can,” she said, then cocked her head to one side. “Are you going to tell me what you intend?”

“Well … the first step is to find Lira. Then we’ll see.”

“So ‘no’ then.”

I took a breath. “I need you to promise you’ll do what I ask of you, without question. I do have a plan.”

She searched my eyes for a long moment, and then she gave a reluctant nod. “I promise.” She squeezed my hand. “I do trust you. Just … try not to get yourself killed.”

I leaned in until my lips were beside her ear, conscious of Valerie listening. “Death isn’t the end for me, remember?”

“I know,” she murmured. “That was more for Valerie’s benefit.”

I gave a short chuckle. Senna was always a step ahead of me.

I turned to Valerie. “Can you get us closer to the palace? Somewhere we can see without being seen?”

She gave a small, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know the city that well. But if we’re careful, we should be able to follow side roads without drawing attention.”

“Let’s do that then.”

It was broad daylight, and the easiest way to be inconspicuous was to brazen it out. We strolled toward the palace, aiming for nonchalance and following Valerie, though with the castle visible above the rooftops, the direction was obvious.

From a street away to our right came sudden shouts, then a scream that was cut off swiftly.

I knew instinctively that could only be Lira. We’d found her already, but were we too late?

I broke into a run, both women close on my heels.

Chapter 54

Blades and Bodyguards

We turned down an alleyway at speed, leaping over crates and piles of refuse. We were heading away from the castle, but that didn’t matter; the sounds I was hearing left little doubt. The sharp staccato crack of numerous projectiles smashing into a wall, the cries of pain—it all pointed to one person.

Bursting out onto the street, I took in the scene at a glance. Lira stood in the center of the chaos, her staff a blur of movement, both it and her form enveloped by a faint white nimbus. She shone like a beacon, her grace undeniable even amidst the battle.

She looked more beautiful than ever.

A dozen of Drakos' men surrounded her, sleeveless leather jerkins and braided hair and beards, while two lay crumpled on the stone, bleeding out.

I vaguely noticed the building outside which she fought. Two scantily clad women, both wearing too much makeup, cowered by the doorway, screaming. If this was a brothel, perhaps Drakos was inside and not in the palace at all.

“You two stay back!” I yelled to Senna and Valerie as I drew my blades. “Flee if this goes badly!” I turned, locking eyes with Senna. “You promised,” I reminded her, my tone allowing no room for dissent.

I didn’t wait for Senna’s confirmation, but raced toward the men surrounding Lira.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

My speed shot up as my skill boost activated, the gap closing fast. My footsteps were almost silent, easily lost in the noise of the fighting. The men were too focused on Lira, unaware of my approach until I was almost upon them.

Lira had heard me, though. Her eyes widened when she saw me, but she didn’t hesitate. Her staff shot up, and another spray of stone shards burst into the nearest man, sending him spinning away. In her other hand, a golden light flared, and a massive, two-headed hammer materialized, flying through the air with astonishing speed. It crunched into another soldier’s skull, dropping him to the ground, senseless.

I blinked in surprise. Had she always been able to do that?

An arrow whizzed past me, striking one of Drakos’ soldiers in the back of his neck. He dropped like his spine had been cut. A second arrow struck high on another man’s shoulder, sending him stumbling. The man nearest me turned, but too late. I was already on him, my blades finding homes in his back and side. I pulled them free, his body crumpling at my feet.

Shadow Step. My mana dipped five points, but I flickered as I instantly closed the gap to the next man. This one was ready—short sword and shield raised—but he hadn’t expected me to be two paces closer. I knocked his blade aside, slipped my dagger behind his shield, and levered it away before plunging my rapier into his chest. His breath hitched, and he fell.

Another ran at me, his sword raised. But with my greater speed, boosted further with my God Power, it was like he was wading in treacle. I beat his blade aside, my riposte slashing across his throat.

More arrows hit their marks on the other side of the street, two more soldiers dropping from precise shots. Another man started shouting back toward the brothel. The painted women outside had fallen silent, crouching, terrified with their arms over their heads.

“Drakos is inside!” Lira yelled as she calmly dispatched another man with a magical hammer.

I’d figured as much. But if we stood any chance against him, we had to clear the soldiers first. I used Shadow Step to dodge as two men lunged at once, then slashed my rapier across the first man’s face. He fell away, and I traded blows with the second. A moment later, he, too, lay bleeding at my feet.

More soldiers began pouring from the brothel. Too many to count. Their black leather armor was reinforced with metal bands across their shoulders and chests. Elite troops. Drakos’ own bodyguard.

“Lira!” I yelled, barely dodging a sword aimed at my throat. “Get to Senna!”

It was obvious how this would go. We were outnumbered, and Drakos wouldn’t be far behind. I had to get Lira out before we were overwhelmed. I lashed out with Veil Bind, dark tendrils wrapping around the nearest bodyguard. His arms were pinioned to his sides, his sword pulled helplessly away, and I stabbed my blades repeatedly into his torso while he struggled. My tendrils parted just as I drove my dagger into his throat, silencing his grunts.

A blade came down hard toward me. I barely ducked in time, Battle Awareness flaring as I reacted instinctively. I slashed back, but the soldier caught my blow on his shield. Damn, I hated shields. I dropped low, cutting across his legs before using my speed to circle him. Feinting to keep him off balance, I thrust my dagger beneath his sword arm. He grunted, staggering, then threw a back-handed blow that I was forced to dodge. He should’ve been dead from that, but he was still coming.

And so were many, many more.

I grinned. This wasn’t about survival; it never had been. So long as Lira had escaped, all I wanted to do was to take as many of them with me as I could. I dove back in, whirling and dodging, stabbing whenever I found an opening. My mana drained rapidly as I threw Veil Binds out to immobilize them and Shadow Stepped to dodge incoming blows. Bodies piled up around me, and I used them to my advantage, forcing the slower bodyguards to step over their fallen comrades, making them easier targets for my blades.

It wasn’t all one-sided. There were too many swords, too many shields to slam into me. A sharp pain lanced through my thigh as a sword sliced across it, and a crunching blow to my shoulder almost made me drop my rapier. But I clung on grimly, determined to achieve the one goal upon which my plan depended.

I spun behind one of the bodyguards, parried a blow from another, and sank my dagger into the back of my first target. A quick riposte, and the second soldier was down as well.

“Stop!” a voice shouted. “Stop, or I cut this bitch’s throat.”

Ice ran through my veins. I turned, already knowing what I would see.

Lira was being held by one of Drakos’ bodyguards, his arm clamped across her chest, a short sword pressed to her throat. He grinned over her shoulder at me. Lira’s staff lay on the ground beside her. A red bruise marred her cheek, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

I glanced quickly down the street, just in time to see Valerie pulling Senna into an alley. Then I looked back at the man before he noticed the direction of my gaze.

“Don’t stop, Kaelan!” Lira shouted desperately. “Kill them all! Kill Drakos!”

The bodyguard holding her yanked her head back by her hair, pressing the blade tighter against her throat. “Shut your mouth,” he growled, not breaking eye contact with me.

I lowered my blades slowly. “Alright. Let her go, and I’ll surrender to you.”

“Now, why would we want to do that?” came another voice, and Drakos stepped out of the brothel. He was dressed just as I remembered, leather trousers and his chest bare, his enormous sword in a sheath across his back. He folded his arms, grinning. “Your priestess couldn’t resist returning, could she? I’m not about to let her go now.”

Drakos’ bodyguards surrounded me, one pressing a sword to my throat while the others relieved me of my blades and bow. Drakos watched the whole time, his grin widening.

“I heard what you did in Taralith, you know,” he said, his voice mockingly pleasant. “And Marisa, in Fernwick.” He shook his head, making a tutting sound. “You’ve been quite the little champion, haven’t you? I think it’s time I showed the people what you truly are.”

That suited me just fine. “What I am,” I said, my voice steady, “is your nemesis. I am your judge and executioner. I am the wrath of Valorah, and I will kill you.”

His grin didn’t falter while he listened, and then he laughed. “Excellent! Just excellent!” His grin faded as he leaned in. “Only this time, your priestess necromancer won’t be able to bring you back. She’ll be watching, under guard.” His grin returned. “I’ll only have to kill you once, and Lira will be there to see it.”

He still harbored the belief that Lira had been resurrecting me, and it would be the death of him. Perhaps I should be exchanging witty heroic repartee with him, but my mind was elsewhere. Had it been five minutes yet? Any moment now, my status messages would update.

Drakos seemed disappointed that I was so disinterested. “Put him in the dungeons beneath the palace,” he addressed one of his men. “Bring him to the temple in the morning.”

“And the girl, Warlord?” the man replied. Beneath the sleeveless shoulder of his leather jerkin, he had a set of black swirling tattoos on his bare arm, each encircling his bicep. It was a cool design, but hadn’t I seen something similar before? Then I remembered. The sergeant at the inn on the road had a mark just like it, though he’d only had one. If it was their way of denoting rank, this man had lots of it.

Drakos glanced at Lira. “She escaped once before. Find her a room that suits her worth, and guard it well. If she escapes again, Fang, your head will be forfeit.”

Lira was pulled away, two soldiers gripping her wrists tightly as they led her past me. She tried to turn to look at me, but they yanked her forward before she could.

“I’ll kill anyone who lays his hands on her,” I said, my voice clear and cold. The soldiers holding her flinched but didn’t release her.

Drakos laughed again. “It’ll almost be a shame to kill you, Kaelan. You’re very entertaining.” He rubbed his beard. “Pity you’re not much of a challenge.”

God Power Deactivated.

Perception has gained 1 rank.

Speed has gained 1 rank.

Dodge has gained 1 rank.

Dual Wielding has gained 3 ranks.

Weapon (Dagger) has gained 3 ranks.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 1 rank.

I held my breath, waiting for the one notification I needed.

Congratulations! You have gained a new level. You are now level 14. You have 6 skill points to spend. You may purchase new skills. You have gained a Perk.

Finally.

I pulled up my settings, quickly toggling the one that mattered.

Respawn with equipment: On.

Then, for good measure, I set my default respawn point to the temple.

I met Drakos’ smug grin with one of my own. “Maybe it’ll be different next time.”

Chapter 55

Rage and Retribution

The dungeons beneath the castle were as basic as could be—stone cells, with three bare walls and a fourth made of iron bars as thick as my wrist. Primitive, but effective.

A pallet of straw in one corner, a bucket in another. With such luxuries, it was almost a shame I’d only be staying one night.

Four of Drakos’ men sat outside my cell, weapons on their table in easy reach. A bit of overkill, given how sturdy the bars were.

I sat on the cold floor, back against the wall, eyes closed as I examined the new Perks that level fourteen offered. A few combat-focused options, but nothing game-changing for the duel tomorrow. One weakness of my Veilstrider class was my dependence on shadows for many of my abilities, but then I had specified a stealth class. It didn’t help me fight a duel in broad daylight.

Deadly Precision—a Veilstrider Perk with a 5% crit chance bonus—seemed my best bet. That extra edge could make a difference.

I distributed my six skill points evenly across Sword, Dual Wielding, and Dagger, hoping my Dodge and Speed stats would hold up when it mattered.

The dungeon door slammed open, its echo followed by the urgent scrape of chairs as the guards leaped to their feet.

I had a visitor.

I kept my eyes closed.

There was a scuff of boots on the floor outside my cell. “Comfortable, Kaelan?”

“It’s lovely, thanks,” I muttered, not moving.

Drakos gave a chuckle. “Better than being sliced apart by my sword again. You must be used to it by now. How many times have I killed you?”

Ah, he’d come to gloat. How predictable.

I opened my eyes, focusing on him. He’d been level 18 when I’d faced him last. If he’d spent his days since then in the brothel, he still would be.

But he hadn’t. He was now level 19, with 247 Health—more than double mine. And I still couldn’t see his weaknesses or check his skills.

Five levels ahead of me. I’d barely taken down the assassin with just a three-level difference, and I’d had Lira healing me when it mattered.

But he’d come to talk. Might as well see if I could provoke him for information.

“I killed a couple of your lieutenants,” I said. “A sluggish assassin, a necromancer with idiots for guards.” I smiled. “But a good warlord leads by example. I can see why you recruit for brawn over brains.”

Drakos laughed, though the sound was tight. “For that, I’ll take you apart piece by piece. Lira will love watching you crawl when I take a leg.”

“Marisa liked me more than you,” I said, ignoring his threat. “We had something special at the end.”

He grinned. “Lira obviously prefers me. She was eager to return; I wonder why. Were you not satisfying her?”

My stomach twisted, and I fought to keep my expression bland. Had he touched her? The image gnawed at me, and for a moment, I wanted nothing more than to tear him apart—slowly. Even now, she was trapped in the palace, unable to defend herself if he went to her. I needed to steer the conversation in a different direction, to take his mind off of her.

“Marisa wasn’t scared of you,” I said lightly. “Someone else had her attention.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you merely a puppet?”

Drakos’ hand clenched around one of the bars, his knuckles white. Seems I’d hit a nerve. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarled.

“Ah, so Morvak isn’t just another of your lieutenants,” I said, dropping the name Marisa had given me. “He’s the one pulling the strings.”

Drakos roared. “Morvak is a god! Don’t you dare sully his name!”

A god. That was almost ironic.

“You didn’t strike me as the penitent type. On your knees at bedtime? Little prayers when it gets too dark?”

Drakos’ face turned crimson, and the bars rattled as he gripped them harder. If he tore them off, he’d likely rip me apart with his bare hands.

Not that it would make any difference.

With an obvious effort to calm himself, he took a deep breath, folding his arms as he stared at me. The bars were bent where he’d gripped them. What sort of strength did that take?

“You should be glad it’s only me you’re facing tomorrow,” he said, his voice cold. “Morvak wouldn’t just kill you, he’d obliterate you.”

That was … concerning. If Morvak could obliterate me, could I even come back from that? Assuming Drakos was being literal.

But that was a problem for another day.

“Will he be irritated when I kill you?” I asked.

Drakos growled. “You’re lucky I want your death to be public, or I’d tear you apart now.”

“Until tomorrow, then. Toddle off, won’t you? I want to get my rest.”

He leaned in until his face was inches from the bars. “Once you’re dead, all of Valorah will know there’s no saving them. I’ll send my men to Taralith and kill every man, woman, and child who lives there.” He grinned slowly. “And your necromancer priestess? She’ll replace Marisa, who was weak.”

“Yes, yes. I agree to all your terms,” I said, as if he bored me. “Once you’re dead, it’ll be a lot quieter.”

Drakos spat on the floor of my cell and turned to his men. “None of you sleep. If this man doesn’t make it to the temple, I’ll flay you alive and leave your bodies for the crows.”

The men straightened, thumping their fists to their chests. “Yes, Warlord!”

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes again, waiting for Drakos to leave.

His words about Morvak lingered. But more troubling were his designs on Lira. She had brushed off my worries that he’d hurt her, but now, I wasn’t so sure.

I couldn’t wait until morning. There were too many wrongs to repay.

By dawn, they had dragged me out of my cell and locked me in a cage by the road to the temple. Drakos had sent thirty of his best guards to accompany me.

Crowds had gathered steadily since early morning, people coming in small groups until there was a constant flow. They were silent, grim, most likely forced to attend. The air was thick with unease.

The sun shone brightly by mid-morning, in sharp contrast to the somber mood. I sat in the cage, ignoring the stares and whispers, focused only on the battle ahead.

Drakos would kill me. That was part of the plan. He thought holding Lira would stop me; he was wrong.

My greatest concern was that he’d kill Lira as soon as I respawned, but there was nothing I could do to stop that. I could only avenge her if he did. If I could find a way to keep him focused on me—maybe goad him into enough of a rage—then perhaps he’d forget about Lira and everything else. He’d proved he could be taunted. Maybe that was the way.

“… I had to show him how to make a bivouac.” A familiar voice floated over from the crowd.

I smiled but didn’t open my eyes.

“Well, I have a fine bow commission waiting. He’d better show up.”

“I’ve never known him to miss an appointment. You can’t keep a good man down.”

I smiled wider. They were here. But I hoped they wouldn’t do anything reckless. Even though I knew Senna would be pissed that I’d kept her out of the fight, this battle was mine and mine alone.

The sun had nearly reached its zenith when the guards surrounding me finally stirred.

“Up!” one grunted as another unlocked the cage.

I climbed out slowly, my body stiff from hours confined in that cramped space. No doubt that was part of Drakos’ plan—an extra insurance, and a petty torment.

The guards pressed close, prodding me toward the temple complex where the gate stood wide open, Norathil’s twin-curved flag prominent above, limp without a breeze to stir it. Voices hummed from the crowd already gathered, and I wondered if Lira was somewhere among them. Hopefully, Drakos had her stashed under guard back at the palace, out of his immediate reach.

I walked slowly, each step deliberate and careful, feigning exhaustion. Meanwhile, I was working through my muscle groups, tensing and releasing each in turn. My body needed to be ready. My mind—well, that was fueled by anger. And fear.

But not the fear of death. That had no hold over me anymore, not when it wasn’t permanent. No, my fear was failing—failing to defeat Drakos even after multiple tries. Failing and leaving Lira to suffer the consequences.

Drakos had five levels on me, and I knew he’d win the first few rounds. But I only needed to land a few good strikes, enough to wound him bit by bit. Over time, I’d wear him down.

That is, if he didn’t somehow cheat—or if he didn’t just call off the duel, chuck me back in the dungeon, and throw away the key.

If that happened, I’d have to set my respawn point to Taralith, starve myself to death, and then hunt him down. He’d die either way, but so would countless others.

No, I had to end this here. Today.

The guards marched me into the courtyard, keeping a tight ring around me. Silence fell as we entered. I could see little past the guards’ bodies, other than the pyramid that loomed ahead, rising toward the sky, an enigma in its own right. I wondered what magics had allowed Lira to summon me here, to this world. She was a capable priestess, but I was sure something more had enabled it. Maybe, after Drakos was dead, I’d have time to uncover those secrets.

The guards stepped away, forming lines before the gate as if to stop me from running. The courtyard was revealed, and I was drawn immediately to Lira. She stood tall, surrounded by a trio of guards, one of whom was the man Drakos had called Fang, with the swirling black tattoos of rank. Behind her were a half-dozen stooped old men dressed in dark blue robes, crisscrossed with a web-like pattern. Priests of Sharlath, I assumed. Drakos must have wanted witnesses in an official capacity.

But my focus was entirely on Lira.

She was staring defiantly ahead, sorrow written across her beautiful face, but then she glanced toward me. When our eyes met, she looked away, only to force herself to meet my gaze again.

Even though I wished she were anywhere else, I was glad to see her.

The bruise on her cheek was gone; she’d likely healed that herself. I clenched my jaw, wondering what other injuries she’d mended alone.

She flinched at the sight of my anger, lowering her gaze, but my anger wasn’t meant for her. I turned to the one who truly deserved it.

Drakos. The focus of all my rage and retribution.

He strode forward, an ax in one hand, his massive steel-banded shield in the other. His greatsword was in a sheath strapped to his back. He hadn’t changed—still favoring his oiled muscles on full display.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the ax, and it landed at my feet in the sand. It was a simple weapon, two-handed, with a small head—eerily similar to the one I’d wielded against Marisa’s guards. The ax was pointless, just like this first round. But it didn't matter. My true weapon wasn’t here—it lay in the next life, and all the ones that would follow.

They hadn’t given me my armor, not even my jacket. But nothing would make a difference against his sword. On impulse, I pulled off my shirt and tossed it aside. Now we were both stripped down to leather pants and boots.

I stooped to pick up the ax, holding it loosely by my side, one-handed.

Drakos drew his enormous sword, and with shield raised, he began a slow rotation to show himself off to the crowd—like a champion basking in glory. The crowd observed without a murmur, faces grim, the mood bleak.

I watched Lira until she looked at me, then winked at her. Her lips curled into a tremulous smile.

Drakos was saying something to the crowd, likely a boast about becoming their ruler once I was dead. Valorah would have to accept him. Yadda yadda. Boring.

“Get on with it,” I said, cutting across his speech.

He turned to me, lowering his arms, then bared his teeth and charged.

I ignored him, focusing instead on Lira.

Twenty feet away. Ten. His sword lifted high.

I blew her a kiss and gave her a smile.

His blade came down, but I didn’t move. No point. I couldn’t win this round with the axe.

The sword’s edge sliced deep at the point my neck met my shoulder, and my vision of Lira faded into darkness.

Chapter 56

Vengeance and Valor

I woke up on the stone altar in the temple, four pillars about me, each with their torch sconces.

It felt half like coming home, and half like a recurring nightmare.

I sat up quickly, checking my plan had worked. Boots. Leather trousers. The ax, still in my hand. I even still had Marisa’s ring on my finger.

Then I looked at the weapons rack. My concern had been that Drakos would’ve stripped it, and I’d kept a hold of the ax against that eventuality. But he hadn’t. There was a plethora of swords and daggers.

Perfect. Everything I needed.

For a moment, when he’d come at me, I’d been worried he was going to keep his promise of cutting pieces off me. Yet he’d let his temper get the better of him again, and I needed to keep poking at that. His control frayed when he got angry. I’d never been able to see his class; perhaps he was a berserker.

But for now, I needed to get back out there as soon as possible. I was conscious there’d always been a delay between dying and respawning, but I was confident it was getting shorter. In the beginning, Lira had enough time to retrieve my weapons and armor, but while fighting the necromancer and her zombies in Fernwick, I was sure it had dropped to seconds.

Great, now I was again thinking of zombies eating my face. I hated necromancers.

I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the altar. Damn, it felt good to be ready to go, dressed and equipped. Even my muscle stiffness from hours in the cage at the roadside had faded. I felt refreshed, stronger, and ready for this fight.

I crossed to the weapons rack, pulling my preferred broad-bladed rapier and pairing it with a short sword. A quick scan told me what I’d come to expect from the gear Lira had prepared: they were all masterwork. There was armor, too, but there seemed little point. With Drakos’ strength, if I got hit with his sword, there was no armor that would save me.

All I needed was my blades and time enough to whittle Drakos down. Piece by piece, if that’s what it took.

Gripping my new weapons, I walked outside to the top of the steps.

Drakos was still in the middle of the courtyard, his back to me as he posed before the crowd, arms in the air in victory.

Premature.

He must’ve noticed my body had disappeared. Was he ignoring that inconvenient fact? Perhaps he’d rationalized it as part of the magic of Lira’s ‘necromancy’.

Lira was watching me. She’d known I’d be back, and she’d seen me the moment I stepped out of the temple.

I blew her a kiss.

Her chest rose and fell as she gave a sigh of relief, and she offered me a small smile.

I’d give her one in return, just as soon as Drakos was dead.

I began to walk down the steps, taking my time, my eyes on the crowd. The priests of Sharlath hadn’t moved; the guards ringing Lira were watching Drakos.

Someone in the crowd noticed me, pointing excitedly. Then another, and another. A hum of surprise built until there was eager chattering.

Drakos turned slowly, seeing me halfway down the steps.

His face was a picture, and as I watched, it grew red with rage.

“How are you still alive?” Drakos bellowed. “What will it take to kill you?” He lifted his sword, but not to me. Its point was leveled at Lira. “How have you done this?”

This was the one thing I’d been dreading, and I needed to keep him focused on me.

“It’s not her doing, Drakos, you scum of Saromir!” I shouted. His head whipped back to me. “I challenge you!” I took a step, my eyes fixed on him. “I challenge you for Valorah!” Another step, drawing closer. “I am justice. I am retribution. And I am here for your head!”

“I will kill you as many times as I have to!” he screamed. “I’ll cut out your heart and burn your body!”

Dumb fuck. He still hadn’t learned.

He didn’t wait for me to clear the steps, but ran at me. I leaped the last few, needing space in the sand. His sword swung in, his trademark overhead blow that had killed me so many times, not least a few minutes ago.

But this time, I wasn’t standing passive.

His sword struck the sand, for I’d dived to the side. I rolled to my feet, both blades slashing across his leg.

Drakos bellowed in pain, bringing his sword around in a swipe that was faster than a man that size had any right to be. I barely ducked beneath it, off-balance and unable to avoid the crunching shield bash that followed. It threw me backwards across the sand, my face a mask of blood. Bastard had smashed a tooth out, too.

He was on me in a heartbeat, his sword stabbing down. I rolled desperately, trying to gain my feet. His shield came in again, too fast to dodge. This time I moved with the blow, letting it smash me away from him. My shoulder crunched, my short sword falling from numb fingers, and I flew through the air, landing hard in the sand. I rolled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my side.

Blunt force trauma injury: left shoulder. -34 Health. Left arm disabled. Strength -1. Agility -2.

Yeah, thanks. I knew. I flicked open my settings window and disabled all the injury messages. I couldn’t afford the distractions.

Drakos tested his weight on his injured leg, then snarled at me. I’d hoped it would slow him at least a little, but as he charged me again, it didn’t seem to hamper him. That must be what 247 Health gained him. I threw out Veil Bind, readying my rapier. The shadowy tendrils burst instantly from the ground, snagging his arms and legs, but while he staggered, he kept coming. They parted and tore, struggling to restrain his strength.

There’d only be a second before he was free, and I slashed my rapier across his chest. His shield was a fraction too slow. Then it caught my blade, smashing it aside. My most powerful spell had only delayed him for a fleeting second. His sword slashed down, and I was forced to use Shadow Step to avoid it. But I was already stabbing toward him, even as I moved. My blade sank into his side, then his shield crunched into my head.

Stunned, I could do nothing as his sword swung down, and all was darkness again.

I woke on the stone altar, my rapier still in my hand. I flexed my left arm; it responded as normal. Even my tooth was back, which was a relief.

My mana hadn’t recovered the twenty points I’d spent on Veil Bind and Shadow Step. I’d been hoping death would restore it, but it seemed only time performed that service. I still had seventy-five left; it would have to be enough.

I leaped up, grabbing another short sword from the rack, and went back outside.

Drakos stood in the center of the courtyard, bleeding from his leg and flank. He was breathing hard, his muscles covered in a sheen of sweat. Good.

I was feeling as fresh as a daisy.

“How?” he roared when he saw me.

“Don’t you get it, you witless fuck?” I said as I bounded down the steps. “I’m not a necromancer’s puppet. I’m immortal. I’m a god, and you can’t kill me.”

There was fear in his eyes for the first time. And damn, but I loved seeing it there.

He still hadn’t moved when I reached the sand, and this time, I didn’t wait for him.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

I’d wanted to take his measure, but I’d done that now. He was stronger than me, almost as fast, and his shield was as much a weapon as it was an impenetrable barrier.

But now I was faster than before, and I’d learned from our last fight. Veil Bind was useless, but my speed and agility were my weapons, just as I’d planned from so many levels before.

I ran at him, and he dropped into a crouch, shield held steady and the point of his sword toward me. At the last moment, I leaped, my sword coming down on his head.

And then in mid-air, I activated Shadow Step, dodging in an instant to his right, away from his shield.

His shield drove up, his sword stabbing forward. Both missed me, as I wasn’t there. I lunged forward, my blade to his neck, but Drakos wasn’t level nineteen for nothing. He twisted at the last second, my rapier plunging into his shoulder. Then he kept turning, dragging my blade for a crucial instant I couldn’t afford. I knew his sword was already swinging around, and it would cut me in half if it hit. I was forced to use Shadow Step again, this time to dance backward.

The tip of his sword sliced across my stomach, leaving a cut an inch deep.

Well, maybe some armor would’ve been a good idea, after all.

It was a minor wound in the scheme of things, and I ignored the pain. His shoulder was bleeding down his chest, but no matter how many cuts I inflicted, nothing seemed to slow him.

I needed to weaken him, to inflict an injury grievous enough to help in future rounds.

Drakos charged in again—his signature move. With his strength and speed, it was no wonder he’d never lost a duel. I leaped to the side, rolling to my feet, then almost lost my head as he blindly backhanded a blow. I barely ducked beneath it, only my speed and reflexes saving me, boosted by my God Power.

He turned, his shield coming around. I couldn’t parry any of his blows. He was simply too strong. I Shadow Stepped back, the blow barely missing me. My mana was going down fast, and I wasn’t achieving anything.

What I wouldn’t give for the power of Senna’s boots in this moment.

But it gave me an idea.

I ran at him like I had before. Leaped for his head. But this time, I didn’t Shadow Step toward his sword arm but to my right, where his impenetrable shield was. His sword swiped through empty air—exactly where I would’ve been if I’d duplicated my earlier move. But I didn’t wait for him to realize where I was and Shadow Stepped again. Now, I was behind him.

Yet Drakos was no fool. He spun as fast as I’d seen him move, a whirlwind of steel to cover his back. I dropped beneath the blow, his leg before me. It hadn’t been the target I’d wanted, but it would do.

I stabbed my short sword into the side of his thigh, and he grunted. The wound wouldn’t be enough to injure him, he was so tough. Gritting my teeth at what I needed to do, I didn’t pull back and roll away from the attack I knew was incoming. Instead, I twisted the blade, cutting his hamstring.

His sword bit into my shoulder, caved through my chest, and knocked me bloody and broken into the sand a half-dozen feet away.

I coughed on my blood and waited for the darkness that was slowly drifting in.

Chapter 57

Duel and Deceit

Back on the stone altar. Four pillars around me.

I couldn’t shake the memory of every time I’d fallen to Drakos before. The echo of my own failures haunted me, each death a reminder of how close I’d come, and yet, every time, I’d watched him walk away triumphant.

But not this time.

There would be no more rising from this altar.

And I never wanted to see marble again.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up. My rapier was in my hand, but where was my short sword? Shit, it must still be embedded in his leg. I hope it hurt. A lot.

I scanned the weapon rack and found it empty. No replacements. For a brief second, I thought about taking a second rapier, but I wasn’t sure how well dual-wielding two large weapons would work. This wasn’t the time for experiments. A dagger would have to do.

Once more, I made my way outside, pausing on the steps to look down into the courtyard from my raised vantage point.

Drakos was limping painfully through the sand, dragging his ruined leg behind him.

Let’s see you charge now, you bastard.

He turned as I came down the steps, fury and fear warring on his face. Reaching down, he yanked my short sword from the wound in his leg and flung it aside.

Then his eyes went to Lira. “Heal me!” he screamed.

Fat chance, you fuck. She’s mine.

But he wasn’t yelling at Lira. He was shouting at the priests of Sharlath standing behind her. They hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. One moved his hands as if to start a spell, but another stopped him.

Could they really heal Drakos—the man who’d taken Valorah? Were they so mercenary, so corrupt that they’d help keep him in power?

Lira had been right. The priesthood of Sharlath was rotten to the core.

“That’s not our way!” a voice shouted, dripping with disdain. It was Fang, the tattooed man standing beside Lira. He folded his large arms across his chest. “It’s a duel. No healing until it is done and the victor is known.”

“This is a new duel!” Drakos bellowed, his voice tinged with desperation. “I have killed him many times. By tribal law, I am the victor. Heal me, now!”

Dammit. He might actually have a point.

Fang hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he weighed their customs with the strange situation of a respawning foe. Then he gave a reluctant nod. “Very well, heal him—but only between rounds.”

At that, the priests stirred again. Two hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, another defiantly shook his head. But one raised his hands. Green tendrils of healing energy snaked around Drakos, closing his wounds. Another priest joined in, adding more wisps of magic. Drakos’ cuts sealed up as I watched. Each wound, some of which I’d died for. The stabs on his shoulder and side gone. The gaping tear in the back of his thigh shrunk and then closed like it had never been there.

Drakos let out a shuddering breath, then straightened, flexing his newly healed limbs. No sign of the pain that had crippled him just moments ago. A slow, cruel grin spread across his face as he twirled his greatsword.

Fuck.

“What’s the matter?” He sneered. “Tired of dying yet? Or maybe you’ve grown used to losing.” He flexed his newly healed arm, and his mocking laughter rang through the courtyard. My grip tightened on my rapier.

I checked my mana. Fifty left. One last activation of God Power remaining. If I couldn’t end him with that, I wouldn’t be able to do it today.

Making my way slowly down the steps, my mind raced for a plan. So far, he’d burst out of my Veil Bind in under a second, and the only hits I’d got on him were after Shadow Step. He hadn’t shown any abilities yet, but he hadn’t needed to. His phenomenal speed and strength combined with his tank-like endurance were abilities enough. Maybe his class enhanced those passively.

He could anticipate my blows and seemed to instinctively know where I was as we fought. Was that just experience or another Ability? How was I supposed to defeat him when he could always predict where I’d be?

Another step, the sand drawing closer.

Drakos didn’t have any weaknesses, not that I could see. He was a walking tank, shrugging off hits that would’ve killed anyone else. He guarded his head and neck so carefully that I never got a clean shot at either.

None of this analysis helped. It wasn’t giving me any new ideas.

My only option was to use Shadow Step offensively and try to avoid wasting mana using it to dodge his blows. The only chance was to throw everything at him in one burst, and hope I could do enough damage that I could win, even if I was then out of mana.

If this didn’t work, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get past his defenses. We could fight all day, and nothing would change. Hell, there was a chance Drakos would get the priesthood of Sharlath to adjudicate in his favor. They already bowed willingly enough.

It was time to end this, one way or another.

Activate God Power.

God Power Activated. 5 minutes remaining.

God Power effect doubled for 1.3 minutes.

I blinked at the unexpected status message.

I’d died so fast after the last use, I hadn’t realized the boost was still active. Now I had eighty seconds of double power—whatever that meant.

I launched myself down the remaining steps, the world blurring with speed. I nearly tripped but caught myself mid-stumble, laughing at the absurdity of my newfound agility. Then I focused.

Drakos’ grin faded when he saw how fast I was moving. He raised his shield, his stance shifting defensively. If he turtled up, I’d never land a hit before my boost expired.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Charging toward him, I darted from side to side, using my speed to zig-zag and confuse. He knew I’d Shadow Step, but my erratic movement made it harder to predict.

I hoped.

Every step felt heavier than the last. My heart pounded like a war drum, counting down the seconds I had left. One chance—this was it. No more time to think. Just move.

At point-blank range, I threw Veil Bind on him, dropping my mana to thirty-five. Shadow vines erupted around him, entangling him for a critical second.

He erupted from them, his shield swiping sideways to cut through. For a fleeting moment, he was exposed.

If my speed wasn’t so high, it wouldn’t have mattered. I dashed for the opening he’d offered me, then I caught the calculating look in his eye. He’d seen how fast I could move and had laid a fucking trap for me. It was almost too late. I’d taken the bait and run straight into it. His sword came around, his shield swinging back, aiming to catch me between them in a pincer movement that would’ve ended this round in one blow. I had no choice but to waste a use of Shadow Step to change my trajectory, putting me just past his shield.

Sword struck shield in a shower of sparks, right where my neck would’ve been. But I was two feet to his left, my body working overtime as I fought to halt my momentum and adjust to the last-second lurch.

Fuck it, I thought and dropped another Veil Bind on top of the first. Fifteen mana remaining.

He broke free again, but his shield swung high. I ducked low, swiping at his exposed leg. Forehand, backhand, two slashes in rapid succession. He staggered, shifting his weight off his injured leg. I Shadow Stepped behind him, and even as I did, I knew he’d anticipated it. I could see his sword coming around in a punishing backhand.

I’d never tried to parry him. There was simply no point. His blade was so much heavier, his strength so much greater.

But for an instant, I knew where his arm would be, and I had the speed to act.

Every muscle screamed with exhaustion as I forced my body to move. Sweat stung my eyes, my breath a ragged gasp. One more strike, one more second of effort—that was all I needed to end this.

I brought my rapier down with every ounce of my might, committing everything I had. Not to block his blow, but to strike where I anticipated his arm would come.

Time seemed to freeze as my blade met flesh, speed and strength meeting the momentum of his own swing. There was a sickening crunch, the feeling of resistance giving way as I cut through muscle and bone, right at the juncture of his elbow. Blood sprayed in an arc, warm droplets splattering against my face.

Drakos screamed, the stump of his arm waving helplessly. His sword flew away, hand, wrist, and forearm still attached. It skidded across the sand, leaving a crimson trail.

He tried to bring his shield around, but his strength had left him. It was slow, easy to avoid, and I didn’t even need to Shadow Step to turn with him. My rapier slashed down over his leg, and my dagger found a home beneath his arm. He gasped, jerking, then fell to one knee.

I pulled my blades free, standing over him.

God Power Deactivated.

Resilience has gained 1 rank.

Speed has gained 3 ranks.

Dodge has gained 2 ranks.

Dual Wielding has gained 2 ranks.

Weapon (Dagger) has gained 1 rank.

Weapon (Sword) has gained 2 ranks.

God Power Active. 3.7 minutes remaining.

I grinned. Those were status messages I was happy to see.

Drakos clutched the stump of his arm to his chest, his shield hanging loose. He looked up at me, then his stare slid past me.

“Kill him!” he screamed, his eyes wide with madness, flecks of spit spraying out. “Kill the priestess!”

“No,” I said, lifting my blade to end him.

“No!” Fang shouted at the same time, his clenched fist raised to halt the men.

But it was too late. From behind, a crossbow bolt struck my back, the head emerging an inch through my sternum.

My sword was too heavy. I couldn’t lift it.

Lira. Lira would heal me. The fight was over, I’d won.

I looked for her, my vision turning gray. The guard nearest her was pulling his sword from her chest.

No!

Too late, Fang raised his own blade, cutting that man down.

Lira gasped, her eyes finding mine. Blood spread across the front of her shirt, and she dropped to her knees.

No. No, no, no!

The edge of everything was quickly turning gray, only a sliver of light in the center, Lira’s kneeling form filling it all. My rapier slipped from my numb fingers.

Lira slumped backward, lying motionless on the ground.

The sound of Drakos’ laughter filled my ears, and all went dark.

Chapter 58

Faith and Fate

I awoke with a gasp, one word on my lips.

Lira.

I didn’t stop for a weapon, racing for the steps.

The courtyard was in chaos. Yells and screams, the mob surging forward. Norathil was fighting back.

Citizens streamed from their stands, throwing themselves at Drakos’ men, armed with little more than fists and fury. The soldiers before the gate fired their crossbows at point-blank range, bolts sinking into chests and heads, bodies spinning and falling, but the crowd pressed forward. One soldier, struggling to reload, gave up halfway and reached for his sword. A man flung himself at him, and they both crashed to the ground. Others descended, raining in kicks and punches.

All over, the same story played out. Norathil had suffered enough, and now they wanted blood.

Drakos was being hurried away, a dozen of his elite guards flanking him. Fang was with them, blade drawn. They pushed toward the gate, using brute force and swords to carve a path.

The mob turned from them, focusing on easier prey—the soldiers.

From somewhere, Valerie had found a bow. She was standing on the highest benches, shooting down into Drakos’ guards with deadly precision. One fell, then another, but the rest broke through the civilians and reached the gate.

Senna would be somewhere in the mass of milling bodies, but I couldn’t spot her.

All this I’d taken in as I flew down the steps. I reached the courtyard. Lira was slumped on the ground, a pool of blood staining the sand beneath her. No guards were left alive near her, but the priests of Sharlath stood frozen, old men paralyzed by shock.

They were the only hope.

I snatched up a discarded sword as I sprinted to the priests. Grabbing the closest by the collar, I thrust the blade an inch from his face. “Heal her!”

“I … I can’t!” His face drained of color.

“Try, dammit, or I’ll kill you.”

He stared with wide eyes at my expression, flinching back. “Al-Alright.”

I released him as he began to wave his hands in intricate patterns and pointed my sword at the rest of them. “You, too! All of you!”

“We can’t heal the dead!” one of them protested.

I pressed the tip of my sword against his cheek, a line of red appearing. My control was hanging by a thread. “Bear that in mind,” I growled through gritted teeth. “If she dies, so do you.”

All five priests began casting, a steady flow of green swirls flowing toward Lira.

I fell to my knees beside her, dropping my sword and taking her hand. Her eyes fluttered weakly at the touch.

“She’s still alive!” I cried. “More healing! Now!”

Lira’s torso was engulfed in swirling magic, so dense I could barely see the crimson stain on her clothing. Her complexion was ashen and waxy, her chest still. But surely this much magic—five priests working together—could heal her.

A pair of boots stopped beside me, but I didn’t look up.

“Oh, Lira.” Senna’s voice was thick with emotion as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

“She’ll be fine,” I said fiercely. “She’s not dead. They’re going to heal her.”

One of the healers paused, gasping for breath. He was old—they all were—but I didn’t care.

“Keep going,” I snarled, “or I’ll put the same wound in your chest.”

He raised his hands again, his magic flickering pale and weak.

I could only wait, helpless. Why didn’t I have healing magic? Why couldn’t I use my power for this?

Another priest collapsed with a gasp, and before I could shout, a second fainted. The magic around Lira began to fade, and still she didn’t breathe.

“More, dammit,” I muttered, my jaw clenched.

The third priest fell. I glanced up at the two remaining. One was swaying on his feet, barely conscious. The other worked with grim determination, his hands moving steadily. I hadn’t had to threaten him—he was giving everything he had. And he’d been the one to defiantly refuse to heal Drakos. Maybe he had more magic left; maybe it would be enough.

Lira gasped suddenly, her chest heaving, and a bubble of blood burst on her lips.

“Lira!” I squeezed her hand, leaning into her, only vaguely aware of the fourth priest falling to the ground.

The last priest sank to the sand. “I can do no more,” he panted. “I’ve given everything.”

I wanted to scream at him to keep going, but one look at his exhausted, lined face stopped me. He was telling the truth.

I turned my focus back to Lira. “Baby? Can you hear me?”

“It … hurts.” Her voice so faint I could barely catch her words over the din of the mob.

“They’ve healed you,” I said as more blood seeped from her mouth. “You’ll be alright, my love.”

Pain tightened in my chest.

She gave me a weak smile that faltered with a wince. “Liar.” She reached up to touch my face, her hand trembling. There was blood on her palm, and now her blood was on me. “I … I’m so glad … my … God.”

I squeezed her hand. “I am your god, Lira. You are my High Priestess. Do you have faith?”

“You … know I … do.”

“Then use it, dammit! Heal yourself!” I laid her hands over her chest, placing one of mine on her head, the other on her stomach. “Your god is here, Lira. Take my strength, use your faith, and heal yourself.”

She drew a ragged breath, her chest shuddering with the effort. Bright, crimson blood coated her lips, but then her hands began to glow a vibrant green.

I poured all my love into her as Senna stood behind me, gripping my shoulders.

The vividness of her healing magic grew until it had eclipsed the priests’ best efforts. Where their magic had been a washed-out mint, Lira’s was a rich jade.

Her cheeks lost their chalkiness, a hint of red reemerging. Her breathing calmed. Still her magic came, growing more vivid yet, the color of spring grass in the morning dew. Vibrant and lush.

“Amazing,” the last priest breathed in awe.

Lira gasped again, her breath stronger. Her eyes fluttered open, finding mine. “My God,” she whispered, her magic flaring one last time before fading into her body.

“Lira?” I asked, heart pounding.

She took another shuddering breath, then she swallowed and made a face. “All I can taste is blood.”

I laughed, tears filling my eyes as I pulled her into my arms and cradled her to my chest. “Is it done? Are you healed?”

“It’s done, my God,” she murmured into my ear. “Thank you for saving me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, pulling back to see her face. “You saved yourself.”

You have gained a new Power: God Touch.

So maybe I’d helped after all, but that wasn’t important right now.

“A miracle!” the last priest said, his eyes sparkling with delight.

“What—” Lira began, then broke off in a fit of coughing.

Senna was already proffering her waterskin. I held Lira as she took a swig, swilling it around and spitting a red-tinged mouthful onto the sand. Then she drank again like she hadn’t had water in days.

“What of Drakos?” she asked, as soon as she came up for air. “Is he dead?”

“No,” I said, grimly. “He fled with his men, leaving part of himself behind.” I glanced to the center of the courtyard, where his forearm still lay, the dismembered hand gripping the hilt of his greatsword. I was going to get that weapon melted down.

For a moment, Lira’s eyes flashed with anger. Then it faded.

“His control is broken, baby. Norathil is fighting back. Look.”

I helped her rise, though she didn’t need it. She swayed for a moment, gripping my arm, then stood on her own merit, watching as the crowd celebrated their victory. All of Drakos’ men had fled or been killed. Many of the Norathil citizens were covered in blood, and not all of it was theirs.

“It’s not over,” Lira said.

“No,” I agreed, “it’s not. But it’s a start.”

She turned to me, pressing herself against me. “I saw you get shot.”

“You’ve seen me die before.”

She shivered. “And I hate it, every time. But that’s not what I meant. I meant … if the bastard hadn’t cheated, you’d have killed him.”

“Yes,” I nodded. Then I lifted her chin and brushed her lips with mine. “I’ll kill him for you. Hell, I’ll kill him for me, and for Valorah. But mostly, I’ll kill him for you.”

“I know you will.” She held my gaze, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears. “I got you captured. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Will you forgive me?”

I smiled down at her. “There’s nothing to forgive. I know why you went. You’ve always looked out for Valorah, and I’ve always loved that about you.” I kissed her lips. Then I pulled back and looked at her more seriously. “As for riding off without telling us …”

“Spanking,” Senna said firmly.

I nodded, for once in complete agreement on the necessity. “Spanking.”

“From both of us,” Senna added.

I nodded again, a smile curling my lips. “From both of us.”

Lira threw her arms around us, drawing us into a three-way hug. “I look forward to my punishment.”

“It won’t likely end with just a spanking,” Senna warned.

“I look forward to that, too,” Lira replied, gazing at us with love in her eyes.

“If you three are quite finished canoodling, there’s work to be done.”

I turned to see Valerie standing a short distance away, her arms folded.

“Norathil is full of Drakos’ men,” she said. “The citizens need our help evicting them.”

I sighed.

“She’s right,” Lira said, her chin coming up.

“I know she’s right.” I disengaged myself from both the girls.

“Help me up,” the old priest said, lifting a frail hand toward me. “I’ll do what I can to assist. The priesthood of Sharlath still has some authority here.”

“This is Aratus,” Lira said to me. Then muttered to the old priest, “You should convert.”

I grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet. There was strength in his fingers despite his age. I narrowed my eyes as I regarded him, wondering how far I could trust this man.

“They’re not all … uncaring,” Lira said, knowing as she always did what I was thinking. Just as I knew she’d intended a stronger word: selfish, mercenary, venal. “Aratus is the best of them.”

“You always were kind of heart, Lira,” Aratus said.

“We can rally what militia there are and lead them,” Lira said, already thinking ahead. “The four of us.” She glanced at Valerie, who nodded. Then she looked at me. “We should start with your palace.”

“My palace?” I echoed.

She looked perfectly serious. “I’m sure I heard you say you were challenging Drakos for Valorah.”

“Yes, I definitely heard that,” Senna said with a smile mischievous enough to rival Lira on her best days.

I stared at them in surprise.

“I heard that, too,” Valerie added, with a pointed look at the priest.

The old man cleared his throat. “Er … in lieu of a king, and with Drakos fled … I do believe the claim is valid.”

“That wasn’t what I meant!” I said. “I said for Valorah, not … for Valorah …” On reflection, I suppose it could’ve been interpreted that way. “On behalf of,” I muttered weakly.

“A king rules on behalf of the people,” Lira pointed out, unhelpfully to my mind.

“A God King,” Senna corrected, her eyes dancing with mirth.

I gave her a wry look, seeing I wasn’t getting out of this.

But perhaps it would come in use; maybe it was what Norathil needed. Drakos had to be found and stopped for good. Many of his men were still in the city, running free. There was likely another of his lieutenants in the city to the north—Lorimel, if memory served. They all had to be dealt with, and the people needed someone to lead.

And then there was Morvak, the enigma.

At the thought of enigmas, I looked up at the pyramid rising before us. There were secrets to uncover within.

I turned, seeing the rooftops of Norathil a mile away. The castle that was the palace stood prominently, silhouetted against the late afternoon sky.

“Valerie is right,” I said, accepting the tasks that lay before me. “There is work to be done.”

God King.

I tasted the words. It was even worse than Lira’s ‘my God’ and Senna’s ‘my Lord’.

Still.

Someone had to do it.

Afterword

Hi!

There’s nothing an author wants more than to be read, so I’d like to say ‘thank you’—and I hoped you enjoyed reading Rise of the Isekai Hero as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Here’s the bit where I tell you that book 2 will come out as soon as book 1 hits 10,000 reviews – but it’s already written, and will be along soon. Book three is in the works, too. Exciting times!

Still, I’d love for you to leave a review if you’d like to—it’s the best way to support new authors in this world of algorithms, and help other readers discover new books. And yeah, with a few positive reviews for encouragement, maybe book 3 will arrive a bit faster :)

Want to find some more cool stories?

https://www.facebook.com/groups/litrpgs - For LitRPG fans

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPGsociety - GameLit and LitRPG

https://www.facebook.com/groups/484560235438701 - Club Kaiju - LitRPG, fantasy, sci-fi, Harem, post-apoc, horror and YA.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1335086533800767 - Harem, Fantasy, and LitRPG

https://www.facebook.com/groups/HaremLitBooks - Biggest Harem group about (AFAIK).

Do you want to know a bit about me?

I've been writing since I was sixteen—many years ago now—and my passion has always been fantasy and romance. Fantasy offers the escapism that I love in stories, and what would life be without the chemistry of romance? Wholesome, dark, angsty, unrequited, devoted adoration, angry ... I've written them all. Lived most of them, too.

Thanks for joining me on this journey. I plan to release several books each year. If you'd like to know what's coming, get some freebies, or join my Discord, you can find more on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/JasonMarino

So, thanks again – there’d be literally no point doing this without you.

JM

Check This Out !

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review.

Reviews are so important to authors.

Join the Royal Guard Publishing Discord to participate in tons of giveaways, extra content, and chat with all our authors and narrators.

For more Harem Lit and LitRPG Adventures:

www.royalguardpublishing.com

https://www.facebook.com/RoyalGuard2020

https://www.facebook.com/marcus.sloss.524

https://www.facebook.com/groups/dukesofharem

https://www.reddit.com/r/haremfantasynovels/

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPG.books

https://www.facebook.com/groups/litrpgforum

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPGReleases

https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/

Learn More Here!

To learn more about LitRPG, talk to authors including myself, and just have an awesome time, please join the LitRPG Group.