Chapter 6: Quickstep

It wasn’t long before I saw them emerge from behind the trees ahead. A writhing tide of pint-sized hatred. More of them than before. Way more.

Angrier, too.

Seems like I really shook the hornet’s nest by killing that leader of theirs.

I began a count but quickly gave up. There were several dozen of them, at least.

Branch walked towards the goblins, sword in hand, undeterred. They surged around him, coming in closer, screaming their defiance as they toted jagged weapons. The man looked back, meeting my eye.

“Watch and learn, kid,” he called.

The goblins, clearly unable to grasp anything but their own gibberish, took his words as a challenge. A group of them burst forward, maybe eight in all, each with a shrill battlecry.

Branch settled into a low, easy stance, sword held out in a lazy grip, point nearly touching the ground.

“Rend.”

Dark fire alighted along the Rogue’s blade, devouring the light around it. Fire swallowed steel, then froze, darkness compressed into a wicked edge.

The goblins were on top of him. They thrust, slashed, stabbed, descending on their quarry.

“Quickstep,” he followed up.

Branch became a black-streaked whirlwind. Goblin blades shattered, sent them stumbling. With a single, full-revolution cut, their heads came off all at once, sliced clean at the neck. Heads hit the ground. Bodies followed.

Branch skidded to a stop. Sword burning with purplish energy, he struck a tight guard against the green-skin horde, blade parallel to his body.

The goblins went quiet, frozen in shock. One of their number tottered forward, metal-tipped spear clasped in shaky hands.

With a lazy backhand swing, Branch cut through the spear. Through skinny limbs and a lanky torso. The goblin slid in two, sputtering its last breath.

The rest ran, scattering in every direction.

I cheered, dazzled by the sheer power on display.

Then I realized some of the goblins were coming my way, and excitement soured to dread. They looked just as panicked as I, although I suspected that fear could prove just as compelling a motivator for violence as rage.

Scrambling, backing away, I struggled to come up with a method of escape. My Bind could deal with one, maybe two of them before they were on top of me. I counted five.

That’s not enough.

But it was all I had.

Unless…

Branch had told me I had three basic abilities. Bind, Lay on Hands, and Scry. I had only tried the first two.

There was no time to deliberate. It was now or not at all.

“Scry!” I cried.

I was blinded with light. Endless streams of white threads. Weaved into pictures, too intricate for comprehension. I was weightless, suspended, fluttering like a moth trying to drink in all the light of a lantern.

Then I slammed back into my body with a gasp. I was on my knees. The goblins were meters away, weapons raised, screaming.

“Bind!” I shouted, arms held before my face, but nothing happened.

I was powerless.

About to be dead.

“Quickstep,” came Branch’s raspy voice.

In a blur of shadows, he darted between the goblins, beheading two with a lazy swing. Skidding to a stop in front of me, protecting me with his form, he raised his smoldering blade in an open invitation to the monsters.

They did not take him up on that offer.

Bolting, the goblins vanished into the undergrowth. Soon, their guttural noises faded away, and all was serene once again.

Apart from the corpses. And the blood. Plenty of both covered the patch of forest.

With a flick of his sword, Branch dispelled whatever dark energy it had been augmented with. He stuck the weapon in its sheath, turned to me, and offered a hand, beaming with mirth.

I took it, and the rogue helped me to my feet.

“Thank you,” I said numbly. Clinging to his hand like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, I shook it. “You saved my life.”

“Let’s not make it a habit,” Branch said. With his free hand, he pried off my fingers. “I still need you, remember?”

“That ability you mentioned, Scry. It was completely useless. Worse than useless, actually. It just knocked me out for a second or two.”

“Ah. You tried it, huh? Honestly, I can’t tell you much about it—never knew many Clerics. Although, I do know it’s notoriously difficult to use.”

“What’s it even supposed to do?”

Branch shrugged. “Weird shit. Don’t worry about it for now.” He started walking and motioned for me to follow. “Come on, Crow—my place is just up ahead.”

*****

Branch’s home was an old cottage nestled in a grouping of spruces. The house was practically a ruin, moss covering the stone walls, part of the roof collapsed, windows dark and trailing strands of tattered fabric, but it was still by far the most inviting structure I had seen since spawning in.

“Make yourself at home,” Branch said, “but don’t touch anything of mine.” He worked open the creaky door, which was kept shut with a piece of frayed rope—the latch long since rotted beyond use—and ducked into the cottage.

The interior was dark, moist, and covered in mold. But it was out of the elements, and there was a wood stove in the center of the single room, so I didn’t overly mind. The place was sparsely furnished, but it had the necessities. A straw bed, a table, a couple of chairs, a pantry, and a large cupboard.

“Now, we’re going to eat, rest up, and make a plan for how to deal with ol’ Piggy,” Branch said, already rooting around in the pantry. “Any objections to that, Crow?”

A deep rumble from my gut was answer enough.

The Rogue brought out a bundle of wild leeks and a bowl of herbs. He placed them on the table, then motioned to me. “Here, why don’t you chop these? You’ve already got the knife for the job. I’ll head outside and prepare these rabbits.”

I nodded, and we both set about our tasks. As soon as he was gone, I couldn’t help directing a glance towards the cupboard. Most likely, that was where he kept his spare clothes.

I’m sick of being naked.

I didn’t want to steal from the man who had saved my life, though. More than anything, I didn’t want to get caught—he seemed plenty dangerous.

Branch returned some time later, once I had finished, with hunks of lean rabbit meat. Less than I had expected, but enough to make my mouth water. After fetching a bucket of fresh spring water and getting me to bring some logs that he had stacked under the roof out back, he mixed the ingredients into a pot and set it to boil over the stove, making a thin soup. He stirred occasionally, and soon the house filled with a pleasant, savory aroma.

While we waited for the food to cook, Branch decided to give me my second lesson.

“On Ard, never cover your right arm,” he said, motioning to the lack of a sleeve on his right side. “It means people can’t see your class, level, or remaining mana, but it’s taken as a sign that you’ve got something to hide, up to no good. Fresh spawns learn quick that it’s taboo. Only serious criminals do it, mostly as a sign of rebellion. Besides common etiquette, it’s outlawed by royal decree, so you could lose a finger or a hand if someone of status sees you, depending on how generous they’re feeling. Usually, that’s not very.”

“Got it,” I replied. “I’ll avoid that. Say, there’s something I’ve been wondering—how long does it take for a mana crystal to recharge?”

“About an hour. Faster while you’re asleep.”

“I see. That fight with the goblins must have earned you quite a lot of XP, huh?”

Branch showed his class mark, more than halfway full. “Don’t think you’ll be getting any. I had to do all the heavy lifting. Which reminds me of another thing—one person can transfer XP to another by clasping hands and both visualizing the exchange. It only works if it’s willingly given, so you can’t coerce someone into handing over their hard-earned XP. Trust me, I learned that the hard way.”

I grinned. “You’re a bit of a bastard, aren’t you?”

Branch returned the smile, eyes aglow in the firelight. “One of my finer qualities. However, there is one way to get access to the XP a person is holding. You just have to kill them.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It’s a harsh world. Basically, carrying around a lot of XP makes you a target. Best way to prevent that is by leveling up, which resets the counter, the max level being 20. At first level, you just need 10 XP to level up. Goblins have Combat Rating 1, which means you need to kill ten of ‘em. For every level after the first one, the amount of XP required gradually increases.”

“What you’re saying is that reaching Level 20 is going to take a while.”

Branch chuckled. “Head in the clouds already. A bit of ambition is good, but don’t think too far ahead. Focus on the present. You’re small fry—any wrong move and you’re taken out of the game.”

“Death is a concern, then, I take it? I won’t just… fall out of the sky like before?”

“Death is your only concern. The king’s clergy debate back and forth until they’re blue in the face, but no one really knows what happens when you die. Only that it’s nothing good.”

I nodded.

Branch took the soup off the stove and poured up two bowls. I dug in, spooning the watery broth with gusto.

We ate in silence, too hungry to speak.