(Art by JoyStick Kurbatova)
Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15
Chapter 6
My life for two
Following yet another long morning of push-ups, basic footwork, practice stances, and relentlessly stabbing the straw man, Keryln felt pretty good about himself. True, he was well aware that this was only the beginning, but had he transported himself back in time and faced that thieving, molesting ork filth, he’d prolly stab him bad.
Or so he hoped.
Keryln panted as he completed another set of squats, hot sweat dripping in his eyes. Uncle Dalen gave him but the tiniest of nods which in the old warrior’s handbook meant that the boy did good. Or so the youngling thought since his father Joel and this one had a longish chat, one eagerly agreeing that the other should train his son, and the level of the aforementioned lessons, Dalen became surprisingly... tongueless.
“Here,” – and Dalen offered him a cup, as he himself drank something alcoholic and pungent from his canteen – “have a drink of water.”
He drank slowly, careful not to choke because of his hastened breathing.
“What’s next? This is my third day this ninth working on my leg muscles.” – asked Keryln, trying to forget the burning fatigue in his calves, bicep, and thighs.
Uncle Dalen took another gulp from his canteen and pointed at the mat – “Time for fifty crunches. Slow ones.”
Lying on the straw mat, Keryln assumed the best position for crunches. Legs perfectly straight and arms stretched forth he counted aloud as he exercised. Not that he was doing them perfectly each time, but during that set Dalen only twice poked him in the gut. He had been using a training rod to do so, one which Joel told him trainers wielded when their pupils were making a mistake.
Boys like him usually did not have the chance to be trained by a veteran warrior like Dalen and so, Keryln practically begged him and his dad for the full program. That meant a hit whenever he erred, no matter the exercise, and not for the sake of pain but so that he would remember and correct himself the next time. Better the hardship now, than the death of your loved ones later.
“Do the basics wrong and you will always fail.” – said Dalen, mirroring what his father said many times about erring the words of prayer.
Keryln stood up after the fiftieth crunch, stretched his legs and asked – “Teacher, when am I going to do more combat training?”
Dalen gave him a weak stamina potion, one that Joel purchased for his training, and while the boy drank it in one gulp, warned him – “That would not be advisable until you build up more muscles and train them. Otherwise it’ll be just an exercise in futility.”
Feeling how the otherwise low-yield elixir did its job, Keryln nodded, and eyed the pull-up bar. Uncle Dalen caught this, but waggled his finger, nudging the youngling towards a small table nearby. His tiny yard, diminutive as it was, provided all the comforts a trainer needed to school one, maybe two pupils. Hydration and food, as Keryln soon learned, was perhaps the most important thing, including timely and short periods of rest between the sets.
“Look, I know your mighty forest elven blood is screaming for more exercises, but unless you take some time to rest and eat a bite of food, your belly will be eating all of those hard earned gains in no time.” – scolded him Dalen and when the boy sat at the table, shoved half a sandwich in his hands.
“Uncle Dalen, what does that potion do, exactly?”
“Huh?” – the man just sat across him and was taking a bite from his half of the sandwich, taking a hefty gulp from his canteen – “Sorry kiddo, I keep forgetting you have to learn the basics of elixirs too. They call this one a stamina potion, but one rather name it a muscle regenerative tincture instead.”
Keryln basically inhaled his sandwich, one made by Aeriale every morning since Joel asked her old mentor for help. It did not matter that this was a simple recipe, these “Soldierlings” were incredibly nutritious. Slices of cured, fatty pork, bits of steamed chicken, boiled egg, herb butter, all nicely wrapped in a freshly baked loaf of hearty, rye bread.
Joel did not say it and Dalen would never spill the beans, but Aeriale mentioned that they shared the sandwich ingredient cost with Old Granny. Keryln made sure to pretend that he did not know that he knew and as best he could. He and Aeriale had already calculated how much would these cost daily and even though that was a simple recipe, it was not on the cheap side.
“Oh, so this is why I cannot drink more than one per day?” – asked the boy and when Uncle Dalen murmured a yes, he added with a grin – “Also, muscle regenerative tincture does not roll off the tongue quite as easy as stamina potion!”
Dalen snorted.
Keryln had already been training under the man for over two months, but bar what they talked about in the very beginning, the bounty hunter was not overly chatty. In fact, the warrior was used to asking a lot of questions, often grilling Keryln when he answered incorrectly. There were days when Dalen asked one and the same question over and over, just to be extra sure that his pupil remembered the correct answer.
“Give me fifty pull-ups.” – ordered the warrior, indicating that the break was over.
The boy swiftly jumped from the bench and hopped up, effortlessly grabbing the pull-up bar. Everything was well and good, until there was a strange tremor which made his already sweaty palms slip. Keryln inelegantly fell on his butt in the thick hay mats which he’d personally rolled over the stone floor early morning. Though the straw did not save his behind a bruise or two, he was quite safe from serious injury.
“Uncle Dalen, what is happening?!” – he exclaimed, when the tremor occurred again, this time paired with a loud boom.
“Trouble... magic trouble, I recon!” – spat out the worried bounty hunter, pointing at a quickly rising plume of green smoke, mere one street away.
Wearing a gambeson, his teacher quickly donned a short chainmail and as he was tying his weapon belt, threw Keryln the crossbow and quiver. The boy did not wonder about carelessly but snatched his own dagger and ran after Dalen out on the street.
Screaming street people ran their way, panicking parents clutching onto their babes, as flames and lightning roared around the street’s corner, turning one elderly man and woman into charred husks.
Humanoid shapes wrapped in tiny greenish flames, daggers, axe heads, and broken sword blades fused with their arms, emerged from the fumes. Blood dripped from all their extremities and their eyes, these were aglow with weird magic.
Dalen unsheathed his blade and dashed forth, the experienced warrior cleaving through these abominable ex-men, dwarves, and elves, without much resistance. Yet such was his surprise when they appeared to have felt no pain! Many simply picked up their cleaved appendages and used them as weapons or blindly flailed at him, often trying to bite through his chainmail or clawed at him with their fingernails.
“Wh-what should I d-do?!” – shocked Keryln asked panting, one hand on the crossbow’s reloading crank, a few steps behind his teacher.
The bounty hunter screamed as more teeth, fists, and feet found him, inflicting some harm. However, damaged as it was now, his mail and gambeson offered Dalen plenty of protection. He dashed away from the handful of beguiled people, swiftly trying a number of different sword strikes. Ultimately, the tip of his blade found a heart and, the enchanted killer fell like a puppet with her strings cut.
Dalen used his impressive footwork to stab all four of the beguiled dead and turned his attention at his young charge.
Keryln was held and quite roughly, just before Dalen took a peek behind the corner. A forked, greenish lightning scorched the pavement, transforming stone and alchemical cement into thick, opaque flames. Terrible cries followed, wallows and pleas for mercy. Flesh hissed upon the open flames and the hiss of fat dripping on the hot pavement joined together with the screams of anguish.
There was no response except one abominable to behold squeal, which sent a chill down the boy’s spine.
The bounty hunter’s entire demeanor had changed completely. Gone was the stern, yet friendly teacher. When Dalen sheathed his bloody sword and reached for the quiver, he did so with a stone cold, brutal emote. He rummaged inside and shoved one heavy crossbow bolt in Keryln’s hand, its tip forged from strange metal, shouting:
“Load it and do not show yourself out there! Do you hear me boy?! Load, then throw me the crossbow!”Keryln to hear.
There was no response except one abominable to behold squeal, which sent a chill down the boy’s spine.
The bounty hunter’s entire demeanor had changed completely. Gone was the stern, yet friendly teacher. When Dalen sheathed his bloody sword and reached for the quiver, he did so with a stone cold, brutal emote. He rummaged inside and shoved one heavy crossbow bolt in Keryln’s hand, its tip forged from strange metal, shouting:
“Load it and do not show yourself out there! Do you hear me boy?! Load, then throw me the crossbow!”
“Ye-yes, teacher, I u-understand!” – stuttered Keryln, as he began to load the crossbow with shaking hands, yet his eyes were affixed on the two charred lumps.
They somehow managed to hold onto their hands before the end...
Dalen grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently just as another lightning crackled out from the street ahead. It hit a building and, together with the rumble of stones there came yet another wave of blood curdling screams.
“I am responsible for yours and their safety!” – the bounty hunter screamed in his face, pointing at the burning street – “Load, quickly, do what I say or more people will die!”
Keryln bit his lip and operated the crank as quickly as he could. He heard Dalen scream “Bargho!” and run out on the burning street, his face a mask of cold rage.
The iron amulet around his teacher’s neck glowed in a flash of red and silver, projecting a field which shielded him from the magics. Dalen immediately proceeded to grab a piece of smoldering pavement and threw it with all his strength at someone or something.
“Me, look at me!” – Dalen roared as loud as he could and lobbed another steaming hot stone, a bright green flame screeching over his protective magics, yet leaving him unscathed.
“Ready!” – shouted Keryln and threw the loaded crossbow, which his teacher deftly snatched in the air.
The bounty hunter aimed and pulled the trigger, the heavy bolt boring through lightning and fire as if the magics weren’t there. Fizzling, the protective field around Dalen vanished too, green fire nibbled at chainmail, gambeson, and flesh, yet the bolt which he fired found its target!
A loud squeal echoed in the scorching hot, marred by stinking fumes air. Suddenly, the green fire and lightning diminished to a point where tiny flames were left where not so long ago burned roaring fires. Skin steaming and leaving molten bits of his chainmail behind as he charged forth, Dalen once more unsheathed his sword. The boy could not dare peek behind the corner since his gut told him danger loomed near!
By trained instinct he crouched, a blade hissing where his head should’ve been just a moment ago. Standing over him there was a crazed young woman, her bleeding stump of a right hand fused together with a short sword. Green flames plumed out of the hole where her nose was, and she barfed a mixture of burning blood and shattered teeth.
Keryln stumbled back, fell on his bum, and barely rolled away from a vicious overhead sword swing, hopping back on his feet in the next moment.
In slow motion, the boy noted the presence of another crawling on the pavement – a pregnant human woman. Her leg broken and hands badly burned, she was slowly inching her way away from danger. The woman screamed as a piece of skin peeled away in her desperate crawl, caught by broken debris. Keryln’s attacker made one step in her direction, eyes burning and ichor dripping from her extremities as she raised her bloodied sword.
The boy, however, stood between the pregnant woman and the beguiled one.
He did not remember how he did that, yet he did vividly recollect how he drew his dagger, sidestepped under a slow and unweildly sword swing and plunged it straight in the possessed woman’s heart. Keryln thought himself swift, yet the woman managed to give him a shallow cut over his left shoulder.
Without a thought of her own, the enthralled one attempted to bite his face off. He stabbed her again, this time twisting his dagger. She delivered a scathing blow over his head with her sword arm and he nearly staggered down to the pavement. To continue the fight the boy grappled her, his body singed by tiny greenish flames as he proceeded to stab again... and again... and again.
Whatever childish tears Keryln still had left in him, he wept them out there and then.
When the beguiled finally fell dead, a throng of stab wounds in her chest and belly, the boy’s dagger slipped from his tired fingers. Keryln would’ve otherwise done what his teacher instructed and got out of the way. However, no Marrite would stand idly by and watch the doom of a pregnant woman, not if they could do anything to prevent it.
As the beguiled creature rolled on the pavement, behind him, the woman held her belly and screamed aloud. ‘Twas a scream Keryln had heard many a time especially while helping Joel with his Doula chores.
She was about to give birth.
“Father of Life and Death...” – prayed she and unleashed a painful scream – “p-please, protect my babe!”
Keryln knelt at her side, and he felt more afraid than when fighting that beguiled woman. He wasn’t a doula and knew not what to do!
Dalen limped out of the still cloaked in fumes, ravaged street, using his crossbow as a crutch. The warrior unleashed a sigh of relief when he saw that Keryln was alive and well. Albeit burned here and there, and a shallow bleeding cut in his left shoulder, the boy’s life was not in danger.
The woman in labor and her babe—theirs were!
“Uncle Dalen!” – mumbled Keryln, now in complete panic.
He need not say anything for his eyes, no, his entire demeanor spoke more words than his mouth could. The boy had this tiny bit of doula knowledge, one of the basic things that every man in service of Mara had to learn. He’d touched the woman’s belly and felt that her baby hadn’t turned...
“I have pocketed a potion, just in case.” – panting said his teacher and offered the woman to drink it as her face contorted in terrible pain.
Teeth clenched and agonizing, to help her drink the elixir, Keryln had to use force. Wiping his dagger as clean as he could, he pried the woman’s mouth open, breaking one of her teeth in the process. As Dalen held her jaw, the boy poured the greenish liquid down her throat. The effect was nearly immediate since this was a warrior’s battlefield elixir. Nigh all the painful burns over her body, the broken leg, and even her torn skin, everything was restored.
“Tha-thank you!” – the woman managed to say and while Dalen entertained the slimmest of smiles, Keryln frowned, helplessness shining from his eyes.
The baby didn’t turn.
He gave Dalen a look, one which was of a grown man, not a boy and his teacher sighed. The woman too, she noticed this exchange and her lower lip trembled.
“Cut my belly!” – she grabbed ahold of Keryln’s hand – “Cut me open, but save my child! I care not if you are a doula apprentice...”
“N-no, I-I am not a d-doula!” – shuddered the youth, yet his hand instinctively gripped the dagger his father gave him.
He pressed the dagger’s blade to one of the searing hot pavement stones nearby. Dalen’s expression softened and he poured some of his canteen’s alcoholic contents all over the blade to sanitize it. Hand steady, Keryln offered the woman to bite the dagger’s sheath just before he cut her torn, bloody shirt.
A rumble of horse hoofs approached and, as he was feeling the baby for one last time before cutting, armored riders came out of the smoke. Steeds, armor, and weapons drenched in blood, the cavalcade of paladins was headed by Joel.
“Keryln, son, where are you!” – shouted the priest, his magical blade shining like a little star through the smoke.
“Father, come, we are here!” – Keryln waved his dagger holding hand screaming as loud as he could – “Please, a woman is giving birth and her baby did not turn!”
The horse came to a halt and Joel leaped down, running with all haste at them. He said nothing but sheathed his sword and proceeded to feel the woman’s belly. Nodding and smiling, the dwarf comforted her:
“Fear not mother, for I am a doula and he, my son. By Mother Mara’s grace, you and your baby would live to see each other!”
Noticing that Keryln had already prepared a sanitized blade, he grabbed it, placed one hand on the woman’s stomach and began chanting a powerful prayer.
“Matreas, enh matreas, healherth thielhs dothir! “
Joel’s hand first, soon his entire body became shrouded in a reddish glow. The woman screamed as he cut her belly, yet there was no gushing blood, only her waters poured out. The priest clenched his teeth and shed bloody tears as he reached forth with his shining hand inside the woman’s belly.
“Ehst suefereith me’est ehne!” – Joel kept chanting and his powerful voice reverberated through stone, flesh, and bone when he shouted – “Matreas, may’eth thien woell beneht dolene, ehne liefe ehst meye daath!”
The priest delivered her baby, a boy, and cut the umbilical cord with Keryln’s dagger. Hands shaking and body trembling, he gave the child to Dalen and the blade back to his son. Another wave of red light poured out of his fingertips, as Joel pressed her sliced open belly back together. Before their eyes, the cut regenerated and in mere seconds only a small scar remained. That monumental effort, however, was too much for the priest and he immediately collapsed unconscious to his side, spitting blood as he did.
Keryln pressed his ear to his father’s chest and when he felt barely audible heartbeats, he whispered – “To take the pain, I embrace your bane—my life for two.”
[Ninth] — Krartian weeks are nine days.
[Turn] — This is a planetary rotation numbering seventeen thirty five day months.
Wow. Powerful. I hope Joel is ok.
That cranked up to eleven quick! Nail biting!