Chapter 1: Reverse Damsel in Distress

The buzzing of the mobile alerted James to its presence, he grabbed it and pressed it, to see the I.D. Seeing that it was his mother, he swiped, accept and answered.

“Mom what’s up?”

“James I need your help.”

“Sure, what with?”

“The attic I want to clear some of the crap out of it.”

“Okay, I’ll be over in twenty.”

“See you then.”

He got up from his slouched position and went to his room and to get dressed, as he passed the full length mirror of his room, paused and studied himself. At the age of 20 he was in the peak condition. He had trained hard, since he was 14 and was now taking in the dividends of his efforts. He was in the best shape he’d ever been in, exercising daily and eating healthily to maintain his outward appearance. At five feet-eleven he was built like a soccer player with lean muscle mass, fine features, and dark serious eyes beneath medium-cropped dark hair.

He grabbed his phone, keys, left and got into his car and drove there. Once he arrived, parked and went in and greeted his mother, he got into the task.

James went up to the first floor, found the rope that dangled from the attic trapdoor in the ceiling, grabbed it, and tugged it down. The ladder came with it and he made his way up into the stuffy, claustrophobic attic. He promptly sneezed. The dust moved around lazily in the morning light, shifting as he waved it away. It had its particular fragrance one might call Attic in the Morning. He smiled, thinking that he could make a perfume of that at some point, and chuckled.

N05 by Chantal attic in the morning.

James grimaced as he looked at the mess before him. It took most of the day to clear some of the mess, his mother provided drinks in the meantime, when he managed to clear a section of the wall away, he spotted something unusual.

He walked over to a spot and saw that there was a piece of wood that looked as though it did not belong there. He got a screwdriver, dug it into the wood, and yanked - the wood came loose, and inside amongst the dust and cobwebs he saw a book.

James reached in and pulled out the small book. It was covered by a somewhat ratty old cloth, no doubt to protect it from the dirt of time. He pulled the cloth off and grunted his curiosity as he looked at the front cover. It was made of a sort of leather and on the front of it looked like a face, twisted in a grimace and screaming in agony. It looked like the face was cut into the leather, providing a strange tactile feeling that ran chills up his arm. Against his better judgment, his curiosity won out and he pursed his lips as he opened the book.

He leafed through the pages which actually creaked and were noticeably yellowed from the passage of time. He flipped through the pages and opened the book to a random spot, running his fingers over the text as he tried to understand the strange writing.

He tried reading aloud from the page just to see how the words sounded, but then something seemed to happen - the hairs on his arms stood to attention as the air around him seemed to shimmer, like looking at heat coming off the tarmac on a hot summer day. He threw the book away in a panic. There was a flash of white light and James found himself on the ground.

“What the fuck?”

He stood up, dusted himself off, and looked around. He was in a wooded area. Massive ferns lifted upward as far as the eye could see, covering the area so that spotty shafts of light streamed in here and there. It was a woods, though; there were lots of trees and vibrant colors. It was evident that this area did not suffer due to human habitation. The grass here prospered and spread out before him; as well there were plenty of shrubs and saplings growing. As the wind blew through the trees, the blades seemed to move in their direction. It reminded him oddly of someone running their fingers through hair; while each blade of grass might be individual, they all moved as one. He thought it might be autumn; the trees were a cacophony of color, swaying and moving with the breeze. The sun was high up in the sky and a few lazy clouds floated around.

“Well, shit,” he said aloud.

James had no idea where he was. He could be in the middle of fucking England or another planet for all he knew. He couldn’t tell anything from the plant life – sure, it looked like it was Earth, but he just didn’t know for certain.

He walked, and continued to walk until it got dark. When the sun began to set, James made a makeshift lean-to by using a hefty rock as a hammer and some broken tree limbs for raw material. He made a small fire, which crackled and spat as he sat near it to keep himself warm. He got up the next morning wishing he had dressed more appropriately.

Bemusedly, he made a mental note to bear that in mind the next time he planned to be sent through time and space with no notice. James kicked dirt over the smoldering remains of his fire, guesstimated which direction would be north, and set out.

Eventually, he got to a hill that sloped down and made his way awkwardly, despite having sneakers. At the base of the hill, he came to what looked like a road. In reality, the ‘road’ was nothing more than dirt packed from the travel of horse and cart. Eventually, James heard the sound of horses and flagged down a group of riders coming his way.

“Hey, I need help!”

The men exchanged glances and one retorted, “Yeah, with your fashion sense.”

They laughed.

“I’m lost,” James said. “I don’t know where I am. Perhaps you could kindly help out a fellow traveler and show me the way?”

“Sure,” the man smiled, got off the horse, and walked up to James.

“Oh, Thank God,” James said.

The large group of men were a rag tag bunch, all with quivers, full of arrows and bows strapped to them. They were leathers and not armour, with a variety of boots. There were also, different skin variations as well, black, white, even oriental. If he’d been of sound mind and not trying to figure out what was going on, his first thought would’ve been raiders and in any setting, raiders are never ever a good thing.

The first guy he had talked to, hard dark curly hair and a beard with matching brown eyes. He had a tanned weathered look about him, as someone who spent a lot of time outside. He swung his legs around and hit the ground, James held out his hand and the man shook it.

The man smiled, looked back at his comrades, smiled at them smugly, and whipped around, slugging James across the face and knocking him unconscious.

James grunted awake and looked around. He was tied to a tree and quite naked. One of the men was examining his sneakers and frowned.

“Never seen a make like these” he chucked it at James. “Not worth it.”

“Maybe we can unload ‘em at the market,” another said. “Or maybe he’ll fetch some coin.”

“Yeah” one of them walked over to James and stood in front of him. James looked away when the guy continued, “I got an itch to scratch first though.”

‘Ugh. Gross,’ James thought. He wouldn’t normally mind being gang fucked but he had no idea how clean any of them would be – probably not clean at all.

The men laughed as the guy grabbed his own cock and walked back to the fire.

James mumbled something. One of the others walked over and took off the gag, then threateningly asked, “You going to scream?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

“But I was wondering what the name of your group is.”

“Goldpoint Hunters.”

“Gold point?”

The man sighed and pulled an arrow out of his quiver “we use a specific type of arrowhead.” He leaned down and showed James the golden point. “It’s our calling card, you might say.”

James inclined his head “I like it - very clever.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, mate.”

The guy replaced the arrow.

“Worth a shot,” James chortled with a cocked eyebrow. The man laughed and backhanded James across the face before returning to the warmth of the fire. James sighed.

Evening fell, and as it did, the men got drowsy from drink and the heat from the fire. James took the opportunity to work a hand free of the rope binding him to the tree. Eventually, he popped his hand out and with a grimace and waited for the last to doze off as he steadily loosened the knot holding the rope to him.

He managed to get the rope free and just as he was walking quietly away, one of them woke up.

“Hey.”

James flipped him the finger, “Fuck yourself, dickwad.”

James sprinted toward the edge of the clearing.

The man moved sluggishly, muttering “Fucking drink.”

The guy grabbed his bow, pulled out an arrow, and nocked it. He took aim and loosed it, but James dove into the woods as the arrow hit a tree with a thunk. It was dangerously close to where his head had been.

“Get up, you fucking shits.” He kicked one guy. “You want to fuck this guy? Get up. He’s getting away.”

James bounded through the forest but not as quickly as he needed to. Before long, the guy who woke up crashed into him. The two fell to the ground, rolling down a slope and on a lane. James yelped in surprise, then turned to defend himself as he rose. He saw that his captor had hit his head on a rock killing him outright.

The others crashed through the thicket close behind and quickly surrounded James. Knives and swords were pulled out as they stared at their dead friend.

“I’m going to gut you like a fucking fish,” one of them said.

“All you’ve got is a cliché? Really? I’m going to leave this world with a bad fucking cliché? Come on!” James entreated.

“You killed our friend.”

“You knocked me out, stole my clothing, and were going to gang rape me.” James stayed in motion as they moved around him. “I think in the grand scheme of things it kind of balances out.”

One man was about to dive at James when something else interrupted them. It was a horrid shriek from the edge of the road that diverted all attention. Not a cry for help nor a war cry; it was more akin to the roar of a dark beast that lingered in the forest. The sound died out, leaving everyone on the alert looking for whatever made that noise.

“Oh great! What now?” James growled.

One of the gang got close to a bush as he tried to find the source of the sound ... And a two meter long pike was thrust from the bush to impact his unprotected chest. The steel point rammed his ribcage with such force that it came out of his back covered in blood. He screamed in pain and more of the Goldpoint guys came over to see what was going on.

The first one to get over to help was a plump and strapping man that looked like he formerly was a smith. For his promptness, he received the same point in his big belly but this time it didn’t come out from his back. Both men stood screaming in pain, united by the pike. Still, the unseen invader was hidden in the copse.

Ten of them came to the aid of their screaming companions and found nothing but two men bleeding out their lives. In the confusion James had lost count of how many men there were, he presumed that many of them would be out looking for game to eat or other easier targets like James.

The leader of the group looked at them and ordered one of his men to end the dying man’s agony. He was visibly angry now; his bald head was red with boiling anger.

“Move back to camp!” He pointed to James. “Grab the shithead. We can deal with him later.”

“Fuck you,” James retorted.

They grabbed James and dragged his ass back to the camp. They moved quite quickly as they got back there, throwing James against the tree again. The leader ordered some of the men to stay with James. A figure burst out of the tree line and stabbed one man in the left kidney with a dagger, then used him as a shield to get close to another man, a crossbowman. The slender blade slashed out and just as quickly, the figure jumped into the forest again.

“All right, boys,” The leader yelled, “Form a Battleline around the hangman’s tree!”

The Goldpoint Hunters obeyed, quickly forming a circle around the tree where James was once again tied. They were not quiet enough to hear what was happening behind the bushes and paid dearly for that oversight. A spear came flying from the forest and struck a man’s chest, followed by another aimed at the leader. But the raider leader was an experienced fighter and sidestepped away from the missile. The spear instead caught another man behind the knee. The wounded man fell screaming, clutching his leg.

“Shields!” the leader screamed in response and the Hunters raised their wooden tower shields to block attacks. No more spears came after that. A dog on the other side of the camp was barking furiously and quieted in an instant. That could only mean one thing: someone was robbing their treasures. The leader signaled three of his men to go investigate and told them, “Scream if you see something.”

“Anybody there?” yelled a hunter when he approached the main tent. It was more than a tent; it was a semi-permanent house of at least a hundred square meters.

There was no response so he went closer.

“You actually think they’re going to answer,” James barked out a laugh, the leader turned around and cracked James across the face.

He heard the sobs of the dog dying and came to end the poor beast’s suffering. As he took out a knife to slit the dog’s throat, a blade passed between his ribs. He was going to yell to the others for help but a dagger cut his throat before he could even open his mouth. His blood mixed with the dogs on the floor. Two men entered the tent and headed for their fallen comrade, but when they were halfway in, a figure came down at them. The only detail they could discern was long hair and a hauberk. And the rapier and dagger, of course. One tried to deflect the unknown’s attack but it came too quickly.