Chapter 21: Let it BURN

Potatoes? Yes, we have potatoes here. There’s quite a few people who don’t know how to cook them, and thus avoid them, but they’re quite popular among the poor who are in the know.

After all, they’re easy to grow, easy to cook, and they don’t taste half bad either. In fact, I’ve got some growing out back if you want a bite to eat?

- An unknown scholar

“I don’t suppose we can settle this amicably?”

Several of them grin nastily, and one of them calls out, “You wish! We ain’t letting you leave here alive!”

A few of them laugh maliciously.

Righteo, I no longer have any qualms with fighting them. But there must be more than twenty of them. I’d be confident with five, maybe even ten.

Time for drastic measures.

Turning my head slightly, I say to the three people behind me, “Go back upstairs, find a window and jump out of it. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Xiltroth is hesitant, but Jakin grabs his arm and pulls him backwards. Evidently, they have already guessed what I was about to do.

“You think we’ll let you, idiot?” One of them shouts, and they all shove chairs and tables aside, instantly clearing the floor, but at the same time shattering numerous bottles which douse parts of the floor in fluid. They start running at me, weapons raised.

“A shame about the building, isn’t it?” I say, slightly nervous, slightly excited.

I open my mouth again, and a torrent of flame blasts out, moving as if it has a mind of its own to block doors, windows… and a large swathe of the floor in front of me.

Then I let it loose, and the building starts to burn, with all of them trapped in the middle of it. The many bottles of alcohol only make the situation worse, the flames spreading along the pools of liquid faster than a man can run.

Cautious of anyone leaping through the fire to attack me, I quickly climb the staircase and leap deftly through the window, bending my knees as I land heavily on the soft ground outside.

Xiltroth and the twins are standing a few meters away, the light from the fire causing twisting shadows to dance across their faces as they observe my handiwork.

Xiltroth’s mouth is agape. “What… How, did it - so quick…” He stutters in disbelief.

“Magic. It can often overturn even the grimmest situations.” I say, wincing in sympathy as I hear shouts and screams of pain echoing from the burning building.

Amidst the sheets of billowing smoke and roaring flames, I see the door to the building suddenly erupt in a cloud of white.

My eyebrows furrow. There shouldn’t be that much smoke coming from the door, should there?

There’s a smashing sound, and several people rush out of the cloud, burns visible on their exposed flesh. The man in front is holding a slim book, covered with a familiar leather.

I connect the dots – that wasn’t smoke, it was steam! He must be a water magus.

“Case in point, that water mage helped them escape the fire.” I said grimly, readying myself for combat again.

I hear a soft, metallic twang behind me, and the magus falls over under my uncomprehending gaze. I look back, and I see Xiltroth reloading a wrist mounted crossbow. I’d never noticed it before now, so he must have either had it in some sort of collapsed, compact state or not have been wearing it while we were travelling.

“Good shot!” I say as I run to engage the heavily coughing men.

Smashing in the chest of one, I quickly crush the skull of another before they’re able to recuperate. The twins are barely half a step behind me, already having dispatched another two of the remaining three and in the process of eliminating the last.

I swing my mace down at the last remaining man, and he appears to have recuperated sufficiently to deflect it with his sword. But then he collapses into a fit of coughing again.

“Please… Cough, cough… don’t kill COUGH… me…” He’s barely able to make out a few words.

“Sorry.” I say. And I really am. “But I’m out of ro- damn, my rope!”

Twisting my head to look at one of the windows on the second story of the burning inn, I hear a pair of bloodcurdling shrieks as the fire creeps ever upwards.

Nope, completely gone. I look back, and see him painstakingly raising his sword again. Disarming him by smacking his wrist with my mace, I look him square in the eyes as his face twists in pain.

“You started this fight, so don’t go looking to me for pity.” I say softly, the crackling of fire, splitting wood and dancing shadow playing a backdrop of destruction amidst the night.

Sadly, I continue speaking to the doomed man. “…I’m not strong enough to be able to afford that luxury yet.”

Nobody emerges from any of the other houses after that, so that must have been all of them. That only leaves the question of why they attacked us in the first place… and what on two earths we do now.

“We should search the other houses… Perhaps we’ll find something.” Jakin speaks while the rest of us aare still looking around in a semi dazed state, breaking us out of our stupors.

Furrowing his brows, Boaz says, “Something is definitely wrong here. How could normal farmers have so many swords? And what about that magus? There’s no way someone with that kind of talent would stay in a place like this.”

Slowly, I nod in agreement. “Normal farmers wouldn’t all stay up far past dark just to have a few drinks, either.”

My ears, still enhanced by mana reinforcement, pick up Xiltroth’s voice speaking softly beside me. “How, are you all so, calm?”

I turn to him. “This was probably your first time killing someone, right? Feel free to sit down and think things over for a while. Or I can sit with you, if that’d help.”

“Not that…” He said shakily. “How are you all so calm when we almost just DIED!?”

I glance at the dwarves. Jakin shrugs. “Just used to it, I guess. Barely helps when yeh be in the thick of it, the rush of battle, the fear… But after - well, it’s over, isn’t it?”

Looking back at Xiltroth, he’s still standing there, looking like he still doesn’t quite understand. “We’re adventurers.” I explain. “You don’t get anywhere being one unless you go through a few deadly situations. If you can’t make your peace with the possibility of death, it’s better if you don’t become one in the first place.”

Seeing him looking so down, I sigh briefly and continue. “I’m not trying to be hard on you, or say that you aren’t cut out to be an adventurer. Just think it over. Adventuring is a life centred mostly around blood and money. Only thing that makes us different from mercenaries is that we are usually fighting monsters, rather than people. But even if we prefer to fight monsters, there will always be times – like today – when we simply have no choice.”

He nods pensively.

Jakin speaks cheerfully to brighten the atmosphere. “Alright then, we’re off to explore the place, feel free to give us a holler if you be needing us!” He turns around and walks towards one of the buildings, Boaz walking beside him.

I give the guy a pat on the back and walk off myself.

I look through a few buildings without finding anything unusual, although I do manage to nab myself a new coil of rope.

Why do I want rope so much? I dunno, it’s just useful stuff, you know? Better to have it than not.

Other than that, I manage to avoid the temptation of grabbing anything else. If we end up not finding anything… then I might take a few things.

As I’m searching through the fifth house in a row with zilch to show for it, I hear Jakin yelling. “OI, AARON! OVER HERE!”

Naturally, I hurry over to where his voice came from. I found he and his brother standing at the door to a large barn, the sort you would expect to house some ten, twenty animals in comfortably warm and dry pens.

“You found something?” I ask hopefully. This isn’t exactly how I prefer to spend my nights, after all.

“Yes.” He says. “We think we found the real villagers.”

“Oh?”

He gestures to the barn doors, which are slightly open. I look through the gap.

It’s almost pitch black inside, but it’s barely any brighter outside, so I can see well enough to make out forms, if not colours. The pens that would usually line either side of the interior are gone, replaced instead by a row of large cages that each hold several people. Some of the people are standing and looking towards the entrances, others are sitting, and the rest are curled up in a corner of their cage.

I catch a whiff of the air drifting out of the entrance – it isn’t pleasant, a fetid mixture of must, sweat, urine, mud…

“So, what’s the problem?” Surely, we could be inside letting them out right now rather than standing outside.

“The cages have heavy locks on them. And in all likelihood, the keys…” His voice trails off.

Right. Probably on a charred corpse somewhere back in the tavern. Could easily have been damaged by the heat as well, now that I think about it.

“What do we do, then? We can’t just leave them here.”

“Well,” Boaz starts. “We could try smashing the locks…”

“Or I could, pick the locks.” Said Xiltroth, walking towards us.

…That will make things a lot easier.

“Let’s go greet the villagers, then?” I ask.

Jakin shrugs and pushes the doors wide open. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I assume you people are the real villagers?” Jakin says conversationally, causing most of the people to shrink back against the opposite side of the cages.

One of the men works up the courage to speak. “You’re not with them, are you?”

Jakin shakes his head, and he sighs in relief. “Thank God. Yes, we live in this village. Rather, we did, until that bandit group came and took over.” He says bitterly.

“Well, they’re all dead now.” Jakin states.

Quite a few heads perk up at that, and the man says excitedly, “Really!? You have the keys then, right?”

“Unfortunately, we had to use a rather… unconventional method to defeat them all, so we don’t have the keys.” Jakin says, causing him to moan in despair. “But our friend here says he should be able to pick the locks.” Jakin continues cheerfully.

“Really!?”

Xiltroth steps up to the first cage, holding a few oddly-shaped metallic tools. He begins to fiddle with the lock under the intense gaze of everyone in the room. After about half a minute, he says awkwardly, “Um, can you please… look away? I’m… not used to all, this attention.”

Most of the villagers turn to face away, but a few of the younger ones peek around their mother’s arms.

He continues his work, and within another half minute the lock pops free and the door swings open.

The people inside the cage rush out and start crying and hugging each other as Xiltroth starts working on the second cage.

Before too long, he has all the cages unlocked, and the villagers are out, thanking us profusely.

“So you know in advance, I had to set fire to the tavern to take them down.” I say, causing a few smiles to falter.

“As long as we’re all alive, we can rebuild.” Reassures the same man who talked to us before.

We go outside, where the building in question is clearly visible in the darkness, casting light over the village as a testament to its ongoing destruction. The buildings in the village are well spaced out, and the air tonight is calm, so there is little danger of the fire spreading to other buildings.

Otherwise I would have to do some exhausting damage control.

Remembering the reason why we were so eager to get to a village in the first place, we buy some supplies: oats and some fresh vegetables from the neglected, but thankfully intact farms. Our water bottles we refill at the well, and we are good to go.

We leave the village soon after, eager to get away from the place we almost died, even if there isn’t any danger there anymore.

We set up camp to one side of the road a fair distance from the village, and try to get what little sleep we can in what remains of the night.

I wake up the next morning, tired and smelling like smoke from yesterday’s ordeals.

…Time to pack up and keep trekking, I guess.

After a refreshingly warm breakfast of porridge, we get on the road again. With any luck, we should reach Xantor before the day is out.

The breeze is soft and cool, which distracts somewhat from the ever-present sun hanging overhead, sending down its admittedly life-giving, but still quite annoying heat.

Xiltroth flips up the hood of his cloak as a carriage surrounded by a group of mounted soldiers travels towards us, the driver barely glancing at us as we pass by each other. He turns his head for a moment to watch as it moves into the distance, sighing lightly as he continues walking.

Later that day…

A carriage, escorted by a group of mounted soldiers, makes good time as it travels down the road between Vaaslav and Xantor.

The carriage is a good one, not fancy but clean, sturdy and reasonably fast. Still, the presence of an entourage indicated that whoever is seated within has a good amount of money… and probably some enemies.

The carriage slows to a stop, a couple of soldiers directing their steeds to continue moving forward as they look ahead.

A stern voice comes from within the carriage. “Driver, why have we stopped?”

The driver twists in his seat, calling back nervously. “Sir, ah, there appears to be a large hole in the road.”

“Then go around it!” The voice says irritably.

“Yes sir, right away. Ah, it may a bit bumpy for a short while, sir, but we’ll leave it behind in just a moment.” He says, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at a trickle of sweat trailing down the length of his nose.

After achieving this, he again folds it neatly into a pocket and flicks the reigns, directing it to one side and moving around the uncovered pit trap.

Inside the carriage is a well-dressed demon man. Not a fold of his clothing is out of place, and he holds himself with a faint air of elegance as he reclines casually on the cushioned seat. His eyes narrow slightly as he gazes out the window and beholds the massive hole. “Why in the world?” He says with a hint of incredulity, to no one in particular.

Shifting his head away, he raises a slim hand to brush his crimson hair to either side of his long pair of horns.

After the brief stop, the carriage continues travel relatively unhindered, and soon reaches its destination.

(POV Aaron)

Xantor is a large city, at least in comparison to Vaaslav, and from what little I’ve seen so far, it should suit our needs perfectly.

We arrived here early in the afternoon, and Xiltroth split off with us (a bit reluctantly, if my eyes don’t deceive me… and I don’t need glasses anymore) at the gate, while the rest of us ask and look for some suitable place to stay.

After we organise accommodation for the three of us, I start exploring to my heart’s content.

So far, I’ve seen three blacksmith shops, a market much more expansive than the ones in previous cities… and the adventurer’s guild even has an area out back for training, complete with weights and mats.

After I have my fill for the time being, I meet back up with the twins, and we decide to get ourselves a proper dinner, after everything that has happened lately.

And so, we chat over bowls of warm, flavoursome meat stew and tankards of frothy beer.

“What do you think about Xiltroth?” I ask, depositing another forkful of stew into my mouth, savouring the soft meat and herbs as I chew slowly.

Jakin took a long drink, wiping froth out of his beard before answering. “He’s a strange one, that’s fer sure. Quiet, and he’s clearly never seen a battle before yesterday, but he seemed skilled enough. Did yeh see that shot he made? Straight in the neck.”

“That crossbow was custom, too. Must have some money behind him.” Said Boaz, who then raises his tankard to his lips and drinks deeply. When he puts it back down, the tankard is empty.

I lean back in my chair, enjoying the calmness and relaxing atmosphere of the place. “He might. Heck, he probably was. Guy didn’t even know how to cook. Still, it looks as if he’s left that behind him.”

Jakin’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh? Why do you think so?”

“Rich people generally don’t come stumbling out of a forest. At least, they won’t look as composed as he did after it.” I put another forkful of stew into my mouth. I continue talking after swallowing it. “He can pick locks. I wonder what other skills he has hidden away?”

Jakin puts down his drink. “He’s inexperienced in combat, and he hesitates too much.” He says, but something in his voice tells me that he isn’t completely against what I’m implying.

“Lack of experience is hardly difficult to deal with. And he didn’t hesitate when it really counted – that crossbow bolt was very timely.” I gesture with my fork for emphasis, then noting the fragrant sauce still on it, I lick it off.

I look at them seriously. “I’m not asking that we bring him in immediately. I’m asking that we take a closer look. If he doesn’t turn out to be that good at fighting, or that good a person, then that’s that.”

Jakin glances to Boaz, who nods. He turns back to me. “We can give him a go, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of training or hunting that much.”

We chat for a while longer about less consequential things, then as the candles burn low and the sky darkens to black, we retire to our respective rooms.

Lying in bed, I think back over the events of the past couple weeks. With the werewolf invasion and attacks from two separate bandit groups, it has been hectic.

I smile at the thought.

But then again, that’s why I enjoy being an adventurer, isn’t it? The thrill of combat, discovering the unknown…

I really can’t wait for the days when I – or rather, we – will be strong enough to venture into the wilderness for weeks on end without difficulty.

But that will take time and money, I suppose. I can’t fight very well without weapons or armour, after all. Even magic has its limitations, I can’t defend myself unless I can see the attack. But armour is always there.

…I really need to take a bath.