Chapter 8: Struggle

So many sensations all at once, none of them pleasant, and each declared itself the biggest problem. First, there was the cold, with Daniel’s weak body struggling to make up for the debt accrued by the sea. Then, there were all of his bruises, courtesy of the savage beating he had taken the night before. There was the stab wound in his gut, bleeding just slow enough to ensure he suffered throughout the night while being tossed by the waves. There was the stinging of his eyes from the salt and sand, which he’d also swallowed to excess. But the worst pain, as it had been all along, was his body crying out for intoxication. Despite all his suffering, some part of him wouldn’t let him forget it, wouldn’t let him ignore it or focus on anything else.

He didn’t know where or when he finally washed ashore. He just remembered crying in relief with what little energy he had. But now, as the rising sun cast its light on him, he wished he had never been brought back to the land and had instead sunk peacefully into the depths, never to return. He didn’t want to feel the warmth of the sun. He didn’t want to feel anything. He simply wanted the pain to stop. This was what his whole life had been, and it was only fitting that this was how it would end.

‘I should have died on that road. I should have died a long time ago. Of all the people to get this second chance, why did it have to be wasted on me?’

They were coming on stronger now, the cravings, and behind them, his sister’s anguished voice, grinding against his cranium like a scalper’s knife. He tried to curl himself into a ball, as if that would shield him from the sun on this day of reckoning, and retreated into himself, searching the filthy basement of his subconscious for anything that would block it all out.

He thought back to all the songs he had memorized, the patterns of notes he had burned into his soul while working his fingers until they bled. It wasn’t working. No song could give Daniel peace. He ripped them apart, grabbing for scraps of melody and piecing them together in desperation.

He began to hum as his mind smoothed over the rough edges of his work. He sounded out the notes, cycling through them over and over while adding something new each time. His left hand, outstretched ahead of him, began to move. His fingertips dug into the sand while remembering the sharpness of his guitar strings.

The pain began to fade, so he kept building on it. He thought up simultaneous rhythms and started adding them on, with each note falling into place like a jewel on a ring. His right hand, without him realizing it, began to stretch out, and with strength he didn’t even know he had, he dug into the beach and began pulling himself forward. His battered and exhausted legs, which felt like they would never work again, pushed him up, and his face briefly left the ground.

Again, this time on his left side, he lifted himself up long enough to move farther away from the water. He gasped for air and groaned in pain each time, but he continued crawling without letting his mind drift away from the song.

Noah tried to resist it, tried to close his eyes and sleep a little longer. He had returned to his perch in the cathedral to enjoy the last few hours of the night. Now the sun had risen, and unfortunately, his cloister wasn’t as peaceful as he had hoped. The people inside and the city outside had woken up, and his growling stomach helped convince him to rise. He packed up his things and left the church on the hunt for sustenance. Some fried fish, hardtack, and an apple served as his breakfast.

Like him, the city rose from its slumber as the flames of ovens and forges were lit, and stalls and shops opened. Men and women, the young and old, set out on their business for the day. Noah even spotted several dwarves, and a few elves among the crowds as tourists from other nations journeyed for the festival.

Today was the last day to make all the final preparations, so no one who planned to contribute wasted time. Any damage or messes resulting from the Red Revelries were cleaned up and concealed, with several belligerent adventures being arrested. Yet despite the many caught, more and more fighters were participating in the evening battles. It was taking all the city’s strength to keep the violence contained.

Noah’s first stop was a garment shop filled with blankets and clothes made of linen woven on a loom and hand-spun wool. The smell of the fibers and dyes muffled all other scents like white noise. After his encounter with the knights and Harajin, he needed a new outfit so that he wouldn’t be recognized, and he was open to any excuse for changing out of his sandy clothes. Several coins and even a few weapons were hidden in the linings and secret pockets, all of which he first removed.

After paying for his new clothes, he went to a nearby water fountain and washed the dirt out of his old ones. It was against the law to do so, but the patrolling soldiers couldn’t stop what they couldn’t see. When done, Noah climbed onto a nearby roof and laid his clothes out to dry in the sun. Then, it was on to the Knight’s Sheath. The overnight guests that had yet to vacate were nursing hangovers with the house tea, and Noah went to the counter and ordered himself a cup.

“Is Cyrilo available? I need to talk to her,” he asked Lucius.

“She doesn’t see people this early in the morning. You’ll have to wait. Say, do you have any idea where Daniel is?”

“He’s not here?”

“He went out yesterday at the end of his shift, hasn’t come back.”

“I haven’t seen him, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t take part in the Red Revelry if that is what you’re thinking.”

“You must have been busy yourself.”

“Nah, I managed to find a hayloft to sleep in. Did you get any rowdiness here last night?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, though some furniture and glasses were broken. Bella has been in a foul mood. If she sees you, she might just drag you back to her room and never let you out.”

“I suppose I’ll make myself scarce, then.”

He finished his tea and left the brothel, setting back out with a goal in mind. He lost his bow and longsword in that pit the Harajin created, so he needed replacements. He found a shop specializing in wooden weapons and shields, though most of their inventory consisted of staffs and wands.

“This line of runes, what does it do?” he asked while examining a length of rosewood.

“It enchants the wand with a spell or an effect,” the shopkeeper replied. He took his long-stemmed pipe out of his mouth and examined the wand. “This helps speed up your mana recovery.” He picked up another, a curved piece of oak. “This one raises the range of fire spells. Wands and staffs are favored by long-range magic casters and are used as tools in magic experiments. You’ll find that runes on weapons and armor use magic to enhance the item, while runes on wands and jewelry use the item to enhance the magic. However, depending on the material, the process, and the inscription, wands can either last for years with little deterioration or burn out after a single use.”

Noah remembered the Harajin scroll from the night before. His foe’s blood activated a powerful earth spell, and the scroll immediately turned to ash. The local goldsmith said something similar when he got his ring in Clive. In the case of Noah’s pocket dimension ring, wearable items like jewelry inscribed with runes could apply continuous enhancements or spells.

Compared to organic materials like wood and bone, common minerals and metals were a poor material for conducting mana, but they lasted far longer without losing their power or disintegrating. Unfortunately, enchanted items didn’t work well with others of the same type. His storage ring would become significantly weaker if he wore another storage ring simultaneously.

“If a line of runes is broken, would there be a reaction? A burst of mana or something similar?”

“There have been instances of such a thing, but only in legend.”

“What do you have in the way of enchanted bows?”

The shopkeeper used his pipe to point up to two bows high on the wall, one being a recurve bow made of elegant wood and the other appearing carved from a ram’s horn. “The green one is elven, and the arrows it shoots are less affected by the wind during the night. The other is from Vandheim, and it shoots with greater power when aimed downward.”

Noah paid seven silver coins for the elf bow and a wand to experiment with, then moved on to find a blacksmith specializing in swords. Until now, enchanted weapons and armor were difficult to find, but the markets of Colbrand were a rich treasure trove, and he managed to buy a longsword with enhanced durability. Rather than buying one from a street vendor, he specifically needed a blacksmith or, more importantly, their workshop. While the smith was busy polishing his merchandise, Noah snuck in and used some tools and an anvil to perform a quick side-task.

When he returned to the Knight’s Sheath, Lucius gave Noah the go-ahead to see Cyrilo. He climbed the familiar stairs to her room and knocked on her door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Noah.”

A pause. “Come in.”

He found her in her study, sitting atop her desk in feline form, surrounded by paper and papyrus documents.

“Do you have a minute? I hope I’m not interrupting your work.”

“An interruption, yes, but hopefully one worthwhile. What brings you before me so early in the day?”

“I was hoping you could tell me more about the Harajin, things you might have learned from your connection to Grond.”

“As you can understand, information like that isn’t cheap. My girls earn money their way; I earn money my way.”

Noah reached into his pocket and pulled out a ruby the size of an acorn, collected from within the dungeon crab. It was rough and uncut but pure, radiant, and just one of many. “Might this interest you?” he asked as he set it down on the desk.

Cyrilo’s eyes widened, and she began swishing her tail in glee. “Indeed, it does. Indeed, it does. Take a seat. Shall I pour you a drink?”

“No, thanks.” He sat down and paused, but not out of uncertainty. “Last night, I saw a Harajin use a strange spell, one that allowed him to disappear and reappear. Do you know anything about it? Anything Grond might have told you?”

Cyrilo gave a deep sigh. At least, Noah thought she did. It was hard to tell when she was in her cat form. “I am familiar with the spell. At least ... I know its name. ‘Bakudan,’ from the Ezerian words ‘bakui’ and ‘dandora,’ meaning ‘hidden from God’. The technique is only rumored to exist, as the Harajin do whatever they can to conceal their abilities. Grond is a loyal Harajin and won’t divulge secrets, even to me. Better your enemy thinks you’re hiding one way rather than knowing you’re hiding another way.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. Anything else you can tell me?”

“I’m afraid not.” She looked down at the ruby and began batting it around lazily. “I can’t deny I want this, nor can I accept it without offering more in return. What else can I do for you?”

Noah huffed. “You said you taught the girls how to use shamanism. Any chance you could teach me? I doubt it’ll be in the curriculum of the knight academy.”

“I simply gave them a crash course to enhance their sex appeal. I’m far from being any kind of teacher for what you’re probably thinking of, but I can at least get you started. I’ll help you find your totem beast. It is an animal you share a strong connection with, even if you don’t realize it. Not everyone has one, though. The presence of a totem beast and the ability to use shamanism can happen randomly, but like all magic, affinity usually comes from the parents. In Handent and Vandheim, you’ll find clans where each individual has the same totem beast.

That cabinet over there, open it. There is a wooden basin with a vial and jar sitting within it. Place all three on my desk and go into my room to get my tea kettle. It should still have water, so pour that into the basin.” Noah set up everything as she instructed. “The liquid in the vial is known as Moon Tears, used since ancient times to see the truth within oneself, and the jar holds the mixed ashes of all the beasts that walk, fly, and swim in this world. Both are expensive, but we only need a little bit. Add a few drops of Moon Tears and blood, and some ashes.”

Noah opened the vial and poured a silvery liquid into the basin. It shined like mercury, turning the water’s surface into a mirror. Next came the ashes. The water became a deep gray, like polished obsidian, still showing Noah’s reflection with perfect clarity. A small cut on his arm provided the blood and broke the stillness as the water rippled and swirled like a puddle full of tadpoles.

“Once the water settles, look into it with a calm mind devoid of thought. If you have a totem beast, you will see it looking back at you.”

Once all was still, Noah cleared his mind and stared at his reflection for several moments. “I don’t see any kind of animal.”

“Hmmm, I’m sorry. It appears you lack the gift. I was hoping you might provide something unusual. Are you sure there is nothing different? I could easily picture you as a tiger-striped cat.”

“My reflection hasn’t changed. If I can’t use shamanism, can you test other affinities? Like elemental?”

“If you don’t know your elemental affinity by now, you probably don’t have one. For your sake, I hope you can at least use warrior or monk spells. Otherwise, you won’t last long in the academy.” She once more began batting around the ruby. “Between the name and that test, I still feel that this gem has yet to be earned fully. Third chance. What can I give you?”

“You’ve been in Colbrand a long time, right? Shaken a lot of hands, met plenty of powerful people? And I assume your girls get no shortage of pillow talk, much of which gets passed on to you and is overheard with those pointy ears.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in the city, but while I’m here, I need a reliable information broker. I need someone who has multiple ears to the ground and can give me intel that even the gossipiest sewing circles don’t know. Say yes, and that gem will be a down payment.”

“Very well, but loose pillow talk aside, I can’t tell you anything that was spoken to me or my girls in confidence, understand? I have a reputation to uphold, and selling client secrets is an easy way to lose all my business or even get myself killed.”

“Of course.”

“But if I provide you with information, would you be willing to provide me with some as well?”

“What kind?”

“Who are you, really? And where did you come from?”

Noah let slip a bitter chuckle. “Fucking Daniel, he told you more than just my name, didn’t he?”

“He told me some things, such as how you both died in another world and appeared in this one. I was ready to write him off, as it was difficult telling apart the truth from his drunken incoherence, but I knew something was strange about you two. The things he described, a world of machines instead of magic. I can’t help but hope such a thing is real, something so strange and fascinating. I’m simply asking in order to indulge my curiosity.”

‘So this is how it feels to hear that line. Perhaps the gods are real, and they have a sense of humor.’ “The curiosity of a researcher, correct? Someone who studies and experiments with things like magic as more than simply a hobby? Your collection does suggest a love for knowledge over materialism.”

“Researcher, sage, alchemist, whatever you want to call it. Running the Knight’s Sheath helps pay for my studies, and taking a patron now and then is trivial compared to the resources it gets me.”

“So that potion you were supposed to get was research material?”

“Of sorts. Magic experimentation can be very dangerous, and not just physically. I had hoped the potion could alleviate the curse I suffer from.”

That word caught Noah’s attention. “Curse?”

“Ah, ah, my question first.”

“Very well. You’re fortunate to be asking me this now. Your cause is one I can sympathize with today. Yes, Daniel’s stories are true. We come from a world without magic, where only the human race reigns. Instead of casting spells, we have to build and use tools. People can fly from one country to another at hundreds of miles an hour in metal birds. We’ve landed men on the moon in ships propelled by fire. We have weapons that can completely erase entire cities. Everyone drives in metal carriages that aren’t pulled by animals.”

Noah revealed a small pouch and pulled out his phone, setting it on the table next to the ruby. “In my old world, this device could grant me access to the entire combined knowledge of the human race and enough free entertainment for several lifetimes. I could put it to my ear and talk to someone thousands of miles away as easily as I’m talking to you now.

It could keep track of the days and time, predict the weather, control my finances, and a hundred other things. Almost everyone in the world had one. It uses electricity to function; lightning running through metal, but its energy is all gone, so now it’s just a paperweight. I could go on. And yes, we indeed came to this world after dying in our world. I just happened to meet him in the street when I arrived the other day.”

“I may be a courtesan, but there are things even I can’t swallow. That can’t all be true. It’s impossible.”

“For me, the idea of someone turning into a cat was impossible. Monsters randomly spawning from circles out of thin air was impossible. Potions that can heal flesh and bones instantly were impossible. Would you be convinced if I told you all that technology is taken for granted? The people of my world are just as ignorant and irrational as the people of this one. Just as kind, just as cruel, same basic problems and desires.”

“Are there other worlds? Beyond my world and yours?”

Noah didn’t answer and instead looked out the window. It was getting close to noon. “Forgive me, but do you mind if we pick this up later? There is someone I’m scheduled to meet.”

Holmes’s relief to be confined to bedrest had worn out, as he now desperately wanted to be out of the infirmary. Moreover, he and Frigga were nursing fevers, a side effect caused by the fungus. Its growth was dormant, but it was impossible to remove it thoroughly once it had spread. Even Holmes’s arm, carved up like a turkey, still had specks of the fungus peppered across the exposed tissue. It was a miserable experience through and through, no matter how many rags or medicines the healers brought the two knights.

“Still not ready?” Frigga asked when Elyot stopped by.

“Not yet, just checking on you.”

“Can’t you just lie and tell Sir Tarnas you performed all of the tests?”

“I’m going to let that one slide and assume those words were the mumblings of delirium. He has a point about checking the potion. There is no telling what poison or curse could be mixed into the antidote. It could be something they’re immune to but would kill us. We don’t even know if it actually will cure you of the fungus.”

“You’re just stalling because you want to create your own antidote, aren’t you?” Frigga accused.

“Yes, no, whatever answer will satisfy you.”

“What in the world could have spooked Sir Tarnas like that?” Holmes asked.

“Don’t ask me. But if he is hesitant about that potion, you should be as well. You may be uncomfortable now, but weigh it against your life.”

“I’m willing to take the risk. Can’t your stupid alchemy work any faster?”

“It used to take weeks to perform. You should count yourselves lucky that you only have to wait a day rather than ridiculing the magic I’m using to save you. I strongly suggest you not insult my work.”

“Bastard...”

“Complaining is the only thing that truly blocks the pain,” Frigga groaned.

Elyot straightened his glasses and walked away. “Keep it up, you mewling dullards, and I’ll send in Gradius to take care of you.”

This time, Grond arrived at the warehouse early and took a favorable position up in the rafters. He kept his eyes on the nearby window and the door, anticipating, hoping, and dreading the arrival of the second party. Then, the door opened, Noah standing in the way with his face hidden again by bandages. He walked into the center of the warehouse with an audacity that irked Grond. He readied his knives, looking for an excuse to kill this stranger.

“I know you’re here, Grond. Reveal yourself. If you make me look for you, if you take any kind of hostile action, you will meet the same fate as your three comrades.”

Grond remembered his training, the years spent learning to control his fear, to harness it as a power rather than suffer from it as a hindrance. He and the Harajin channeled their fear to move faster and fight harder rather than tremble and hesitate. He was trained to ignore the deaths of comrades in battle and instead deliver a killing blow to the enemy while they were distracted. It was a honed instinct, one now telling him to stay his hand.

This man had killed Oritz, was likely the killer of Hulf, and had displayed his skills before Grond’s eyes the previous night. Whatever magic or moves he used, they seemed to hold a style advantage over the Harajin.

“I’m up here, but you’ll have to convince me to come down.”

“Good, I’m glad you got my message.”

“Same time, same place. What do you want from me?”

“Bakudan. I want to know how it works. If you give me the information I want, I can make it worth your while.”

“You mean the antidote?”

On cue, Noah held up the stolen bottle. “With any luck, the knights haven’t used that other potion yet. Once they find out what’s inside, all of your good intentions will have been for nothing, and they will never trust the Harajin again. However, if you go to them now, explain the situation, and give them this, then everything can be forgiven.”

“Why do you want to know about the spell?”

“Like Cyrilo, I have an interest in magic. Bakudan is a very curious spell, and I want to study it. Nothing you tell me will ever be spoken of or written down. It’s a secret I’ll take with me to my grave.”

“And I assume this is something you already asked my comrades?”

“Just Hulf. He chose death over giving me what I wanted, a truly foolish decision. He did not die well, and it would be a shame if I had to repeat the process with you. I have what you and your friends want. If I didn’t, then why are you here?”

“You killed three Harajin. You think I can just hand over clan secrets to someone like you?”

“Of course you can. You’ve gone against the Harajin before, haven’t you? Disobeyed their laws for personal reasons? Just do it again. Explain the spell to me in all its details, and this madness can be over with.”

Grond hesitated and jumped down from the rafters. “Tell me one thing: what do you know of the supposed peace accord Ortiz was carrying?”

“There is no peace accord, and the sword he carried belonged to a knight whose death was unrelated to all this. However, what was a lie can be made true.” Noah revealed the knight’s sword and held it out to Grond. “I’ll give this to you as well. If you return this to the kingdom as an act of good faith, along with the antidote, peace between Uther and the Harajin can be possible. Concoct whatever story you want about how you killed me and retrieved the sword and bottle. Paint yourself as a hero while I take the role of the scapegoat.

I’m not an enemy to Uther or the Harajin, and without me, you wouldn’t have this chance to shape the future. Imagine what it could mean if this goes well. Cyrilo told me you gave up your son so he wouldn’t be raised to be a Harajin. You couldn’t erase your feelings, could you? You can see him again, and be a part of his life without fear of the knights killing you on sight. We can all get what we want.”

Grond slowly reached out to take the sword but stopped. “I can’t. I am loyal to the Harajin and lack the right to give up clan secrets. However ... Klein is ranked higher than me and can make these kinds of decisions. Add this to the pile, and I’ll back you up.” He held out the potion meant for Cyrilo. “This is what they came for, so he won’t simply overlook an offer to get it. I reclaimed it from Cyrilo, but my companions already know it left my possession. I need them to find this on their own so the mission will be a success, and no one will ask questions. You stole it from me and are selling it back. The antidote, sword, and potion. I can’t imagine Klein refusing.”

Noah took the potion with a spark of surprise. “You stole it from Cyrilo?”

“She gave it back.”

“I imagine after tearing into you like a cornered mouse. It’s perfect. Have him meet me here at dusk.”

Noah departed, audaciously flashing his back to the assassin. He left the warehouse and began walking along the pier. Now that he had some free time, he was aching for a nap.

‘Should I look for some quiet place to bed down, like the church, or go back to the Knight’s Sheath and earn some bed rest from Bella?’

His indecision lasted only briefly and wasn’t answered, as it was when he was passing by two ships run aground by the docks that he spotted something in the corner of his eye. It was low tide, and a body lay on the beach below the pier. The drag marks from the water were the only reason to believe this washed-ashore wretch was still alive. The distance failed to hinder Noah’s eyes from recognizing Daniel.

“What the hell?”

He jumped down from the pier and ran over. It was Daniel, all right, breathing his last breath. Noah flipped him over onto his back and saw the large red stain on the side of his shirt. He drew a healing potion and poured half on Daniel’s wound and the rest down his throat. Even with the potion applied, his life was dwindling, and it seemed like death would overtake him first.

After a night spent being tossed by the ocean and then baking in the sun, his body was utterly exhausted. Everything from his skin to his organs was ravaged. Add the stab wound and his survival went beyond ‘lucky’ and just short of ‘miraculous.’ Noah gave him two more potions, bringing him at least to a stable condition, though he remained unconscious.

“Guess I’m going to the Knight’s Sheath.”

The dungeons of Colbrand, despite that title, weren’t simply a basement beneath the palace. It was initially a military fort, built of brick and stone and fenced in by walls that could resist spells and catapults. It had been used to house thousands of prisoners of war in ages past, then repurposed to hold the city’s criminals. But as it so happened, the man who ran the prison was himself a prisoner. In the lowest levels, special living quarters had been constructed. It was deep below the city but not so deep as to explain the stifling heat and thick steam.

It was being visited by Adwith Tarnas, walking the stone corridors without a torch and instead using his holy light to show him the way. He arrived at a heavy steel door, lathered with oil to protect from the moisture in the air. Next to it, a giant suit of armor hung up on a rack.

“Sven, it’s Adwith,” he said, knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

Tarnas unlocked the door, unfastening several bolts, restraints, and sliding bars, and clouds of steam poured out. Only once it settled did he enter. The room was a sensory deprivation chamber. It held a pool of water with hundreds of pounds of salt mixed in to let Gradius float effortlessly in the center. There was no light source, and the only sound was the flowing of fresh water and air out of pipes.

This room was the only thing that could calm Gradius’s perpetual anger and served as both a bedroom and a prison cell. The water was boiling from the heat he was putting out, a common occurrence, but rarely did he reach temperatures like this. He was a large man, like Tarnas, and built like a bull. While his body was utterly immune to heat, not even eyebrows could grow without the hairs turning to ash.

“I heard you attacked a fellow knight yesterday. Have you calmed down enough to understand why that’s a problem?”

“She got in my way.”

“I don’t care what she did; you do not attack your comrades. In what way has that rule ever been unclear?”

“She started it! She tried to save a criminal! She’s one of them! She should be the one locked up! Her head should be on a pike! I’m gonna—”

“Enough!” Tarnas released a powerful wave of mana, shaking the room and managing to silence Gradius. The two men were silent, each letting their tempers settle. “Do you remember why I got you this position? Why I advocated for you, of all people, to become the royal executioner?”

“The pursuit of justice. You said ... you said I should focus on punishing evil and upholding the law. You said I could learn to control my fury if I had a reason to.”

“That’s right. You were just a mindless beast when I found you, a slave to your rage, and my orders were to kill you just like any other monster. But I saw potential in you, the chance to turn that pure chaos into a force for good. I still believe in that potential. I believe you can help protect this nation, and it takes more than just killing to do that.