The world came back in pieces. First, the sharp smell of iron and earth, then the steady clip-clop of hooves on dirt. My body felt like it had been thrown in a blender and dumped out beneath the sun. Groaning, I cracked one eye open to find two figures on horseback looming over me, their faces obscured by helmets and the late morning sun.
"Looks like we've got a survivor," one of them muttered, his voice low and gravelly. He nudged his horse closer, peering down at me like I was something he'd scraped off his boot.
"Or an accomplice," the other chimed in, his tone sharper, laced with suspicion.
I tried to push myself up, but my body immediately protested with a full symphony of pain. My leather armor was stiff with dried blood, the ground beneath me sticky from the same. "Do I look like a bandit?" I croaked, my voice barely more than a rasp.
The first guard, a stocky man with a permanent scowl etched into his face, dismounted, landing with a heavy thud. He strode over and crouched beside me, his shadow casting a chill over my battered form. His eyes scanned me, calculating, as if he could strip away my soul and measure it against whatever standard he was working with.
"You tell me," he said flatly. "What happened here?"
I coughed, trying to summon enough moisture in my mouth to form coherent words. "Got ambushed by these guys," I croaked, jerking my head toward the pile of bodies a few feet away. "The guy with a hatchet in his face went down first, then the archer. The rest followed."
The guard didn't react right away, his gaze narrowing as he studied me like a hawk sizing up prey. "You expect me to believe you, alone, took down this lot?"
I shrugged, regretting it immediately as pain lanced through my shoulder. "Not really. But it's the truth."
The second guard snorted. "Sounds like a load of bull to me."
"Check the wounds," I muttered, closing my eyes for a moment to keep the spinning at bay. "Arrows holes in their legs... Sword hole through the back of the archer... throwing knife in the big guy's neck and under his ribs. They didn't do it to themselves."
The first guard sighed, standing and motioning to his partner. "Go check."
The second guard dismounted with a huff, trudging over to inspect the bodies. I stayed still, focusing on keeping my breathing steady as the minutes dragged on.
"Well?" the first guard asked, his patience wearing thin.
The second guard straightened, his expression a mix of surprise and grudging respect. "It checks out. Wounds match his story. Kid's telling the truth, or he's one hell of a storyteller."
The first guard knelt beside me again, his demeanor slightly less icy. "Each of these bandits had a bounty on their heads. One gold apiece for the grunts, and five for the leader. Not much to folks in the capital, but for a commoner like you? Decent payday."
I blinked at him, my brain sluggishly processing the words. Eight gold wasn't going to set me up for life, but it was more money than I'd ever had in my hands. Not sure what the exchange rate was, but likely more than I had in my last life too.
The guard reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it to me. The coins inside jingled faintly as they landed on my chest. "Eight gold, as promised."
I stared at the pouch, then back at him. "What about their gear? Loot?"
"Stolen property," the second guard cut in, his tone curt. "Anything they had on them goes to the city to cover the damages this gang caused. Consider yourself lucky we're even letting you keep the bounty. Most of the time, we don't."
The first guard shot him a look, then reached into another pouch and pulled out two small vials, one red, one nearly golden. "Here," he said, handing them down to me. "Health and stamina potions. You'll need them if you're planning to walk out of here on your own two feet."
I took the potions with a nod, uncorking the red one first and downing it in one gulp. The familiar warmth of healing magic spread through my body, dulling the worst of the pain. The stamina potion followed, its effects immediate as the heaviness in my limbs began to lift.
"Thanks," I said, my voice steadier now.
The guard straightened, pulling himself back onto his horse. "What happens now is up to you. We've sent for a wagon to haul the bodies back to town. You're free to go, assuming you can stand."
I pushed myself to my feet with a grunt, swaying slightly before finding my balance. "What's the nearest town?"
"Westwood," the second guard said, mounting his horse. "About a day's walk from here. Just follow the road."
The first guard gave me a lingering look, his expression unreadable. "Don't make us regret this, kid."
The second was about to stop me as I started to trudge over to the sword to pick it up before I turned away with a sigh to search for my hatchet.
"No idea where my skinning knife went," I muttered to myself, "I guess the hatchet will have to do." My stomach lurched and my face soured as I thought about yanking it out of the bandit's skull. It didn't go unnoticed.
"Listen kid..." he put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him, "Just take the sword, it's fine, you at least need some protection for the rest of your trip." He glanced over to his colleague who just gave him a head shake in resignation, not wanting to make a fuss over a lousy sword.
The second guard walked over, picked up the blade, and handed it to me as he leaned in close to whisper, "If you're smart, you'll find a safer line of work." Then he returned to business as usual, piling the bodies and collecting the coin purses.
With that, I turned in the direction of Westwood and jingled the bag of coins in my hand with a tired smile.
Safer line of work? Not likely.
The road to Westwood stretched before me, a dirt path winding through the thick forest shielding most travelers from the wind, but as I recently discovered, it also shields threats from hapless potential victims. The sun had just passed over the mountains in its climb across the sky, and it was going to be a hot day. I should have asked for water.
My body ached with each step, the potions from the guards doing enough to keep me upright but not enough to erase the bruises or the gnawing fatigue in my bones. My new sword was stained and worn but seemed otherwise in pretty decent shape. The protective leathers I wore were in tatters though. I should probably just discard them into the woods at this point, but my shirt underneath was just as bad.
Every so often, I pulled a strip of smoked elk meat from my pouch, chewing as I walked, mind wandering aimlessly. The salty tang was satisfying enough, though it did nothing to distract me from the occasional stares of those I passed on the road.
Farmers in carts, traders with their goods, and even a few solitary travelers all gave me a wide berth. Some shot me disgusted looks, their eyes lingering on the blood that had dried into dark streaks across my armor and skin. Others looked frightened, clutching their belongings or hastening their pace as they passed. A few muttered prayers under their breath, as if I were some omen they needed protection from.
"Not the warmest welcome," I muttered to myself, tossing the bit of elk I had been working on into my mouth. I couldn't blame them, really. If I saw someone stumbling down the road looking like they'd crawled out of the first layer of hell, I'd probably avoid them too.
The road ahead dipped slightly, the forest thinning just enough for the afternoon light to filter through the leaves. I focused on the rhythm of my steps, my mind replaying the chaos of the last battle. I was alive, but the lingering tension in my shoulders and the faint tremor in my hands told me the experience had left more scars than the ones on my skin.
The sound of rapid footsteps behind me broke my reverie. They weren't hurried, like someone fleeing, but light and purposeful, gaining on me quickly. I turned my head slightly, one hand brushing the hilt of my sword as I glanced over my shoulder.
"Hey there!"
The voice was bright and chipper, almost melodic, and far too cheerful for my current state.
I turned fully to see a young woman no older than I was–however old that was– closing the gap between us. She was skipping forward, like literally skipping down the trail, her flowing robes catching the wind with each stride. A gnarled wooden staff was slung over one shoulder, the top adorned with a faintly glowing crystal. Her hair, the color of freshly fallen leaves, was pulled back in a loose braid that bounced as she moved.
Her face was alight with a wide smile that felt almost insulting after what I had been through. It was clear she hadn't yet encountered the kind of misery that painted the rest of us.
"You're looking rough," she said, skidding to a stop beside me, pulling out her staff–which caused me to grip onto and partially unsheath my own weapon–before leaning on it, completely carefree and relaxed. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, taking in the blood, the tattered armor, and the exhaustion etched into my features. "Bad day, huh?"
I raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond to her... energy. "Something like that."
Her smile didn't falter. "Well, you're not dead, so that's a win, right?"
I gave a noncommittal grunt and resumed walking. She fell into step beside me without hesitation, her staff tapping lightly against the ground as she kept pace.
"So, where are you headed?" she asked, tilting her head to look up at me.
I hesitated. She didn't seem like a threat, but after everything I'd been through, trusting strangers wasn't exactly high on my list of priorities. "Westwood," I said finally.
Her eyes lit up. "No way! Me too! Well, sort of. I'm stopping there on my way to the capital. Big plans and all that."
I cast a sidelong glance at her, noting the way her robes seemed to shimmer slightly when they caught the light. The crystal on her staff pulsed faintly like it had a life of its own. "You're some kind of sorceress," I said, more a statement than a question.
"Apprentice wizard," she corrected, puffing her chest out slightly with pride. I instinctually let my eyes fall down slightly, but her robe covered her body pretty well, not much to see. I closed my eyes and shook my head before meeting her gaze again, trying to play it off as part of my fatigue.
"Not a full mage yet, but I'm getting there. Heading to the Academy in the capital to finish my training. Figured I'd take the scenic route, meet some interesting people along the way." She gestured to me with a flourish. "Mission accomplished."
"Right," I muttered, quickening my pace slightly. She matched it effortlessly, her grin never wavering.
"So," she continued, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm, "what happened to you? You look like you walked into an owl-bear den during mating season."
I winced at her words, not an image I wanted in my head. "Bandits," I said shortly.
"Ooh, nasty business." Her tone was sympathetic, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "You take them out yourself?"
I nodded, keeping my gaze on the road ahead.
She let out a low whistle. "Impressive. Most people would've just run. Or, you know, died."
I didn't respond, my grip tightening on the strap of my pack. Her chatter wasn't unwelcome, exactly, but rather the way she breezed past my personal boundaries that set me on edge.
"Hey," she said after a moment, her voice softening. "I'm not trying to pry or anything. Just... you seem like you've been through a lot. Talking helps, you know."
I glanced at her, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. Her expression was earnest, and for a moment, I almost considered opening up. But the weight of everything I'd been through sat heavy in my chest, too raw to share with someone I'd just met.
"I'm fine," I said, a little more curtly than I intended.
She didn't seem offended. If anything, her grin returned with renewed vigor. "Well, you're not exactly chatty, are you? That's okay. I'll just do the talking for both of us!"
Great.
As we walked, she launched into a monologue about her training, her excitement for the Academy, and the "adventure" of traveling the countryside. Her enthusiasm was relentless, but there was something almost endearing about it, like she knew I needed a distraction and was hell-bent on giving it to me.
I couldn't decide if she was brave, naïve, or just oblivious. Maybe a mix of all three. Either way, I had to admit it was a nice distraction, I just couldn't let my guard down. After all, I was tasked with their deaths, and even this sweet young woman might have to die with the rest. I didn't like that thought, it was true, but I could think about that later. For now, time to try and figure out what in the world she is talking about.