A Game of Heaven - 1. Wizarding 101

0.

“Wake up…”

Gareth moaned loudly. He was laying in some sort of bed, warm and comfortable. There was no way he was about to wake up.

Something cold closed around his right wrist, and he gasped, eyes opening with a start.

A young woman stood over him, a friendly look on her face. Her dark skin contrasted with her light blouse, and her shorts showed off a large amount of her legs.

“Come on, it’s time to get up,” she smiled.

“Wha-?”

Gareth coughed, his throat dry. His voice scraped in his ears, and he grimaced.

“Don’t worry, it will get better with time,” the woman said. “My name is Arabelle. I greet the newcomers, and get them started on their journeys.”

Gareth sat up, and took a look around. He was in a small room, consisting of just a bed and a chair. The bed he sat in, covered by a quilt from his neck down. As he straightened, the quilt fell to his lap, and he realized he was shirtless. His hands moved to cover his breasts instinctively.

“Ah,” Arabelle smiled kindly. “You were a different person before. You don’t have to worry here. No one will judge you.”

“What do you mean?”

His voice still scratched out, and he swallowed drily.

“In your life, you most likely had a girl’s body. Some actions are ingrained still. They will fade with time. Can you stand for me please?”

Gareth slid his legs off the bed, and felt the cool air touch his skin.

“I was a girl?” he asked cautiously.

“Oh no, you were a man the whole time. You just had the body of a girl. Or, I think you did. Here your true self is reflected. This is who you are.”

She gestured down Gareth’s body.

“Forgive me, I must be confusing you.”

“A little,” Gareth admitted.

“Let me restart. You are in the afterlife right now. I don’t know how you died. It is part of your past, and those are left at the door. The afterlife for people like you and I plays out like a game. Right now you can think of yourself as being in character creation, and myself as a tutorial of sorts. Have I lost you yet?”

“Um…”

Arabelle sat beside him.

“It’s okay. We can take as long as you need,” she said.

Questions flooded through Gareth’s mind. He took a minute to sort them out, before asking the first.

“What kind of game?”

“A fantasy game, full of elves, dragons, dwarves, the works. I have a theory that there’s a different afterlife for more high tech gamers, but I can’t be certain.”

“So… I could be an elf?”

“I’d say you’re more of a half elf,” Arabelle replied. “That’s a decision that is made for you, and it’s permanent, but no one has complained about their race so far.”

Gareth thought about it. He really didn’t mind being a half elf. Better than a human, and not as weird as a full elf.

“What if I didn’t want to be a half elf?”

“You wouldn’t be a half elf. It’s as simple as that,” Arabelle said.

She stood up and picked up something from the chair.

“This is what you look like,” she said, handing Gareth a small mirror.

Gareth studied himself. He seemed very bland, but as he watched, his face began shifting, becoming narrower. His ears stretched slightly, growing longer and more tapered, while his hair grew longer, changing colour from blond to red. Not even his eyes remained unchanged, turning a pale blue in colour.

“Whoa…” he whispered as his face finished its transformation.

“Better?” Arabelle asked.

“Much better,” Gareth smiled.

“Great. Next you need to get dressed. Head through this door and get your clothes. Then meet me in the room beyond.”

Arabelle walked through the door, leaving Gareth to himself.

The half elf lifted the quilt away from himself, examining the rest of his body. He was hairless, and his nether regions were… different than he expected. He waited for his body to shift like his face had, but nothing happened.

“I guess my body suits me,” he shrugged, standing.

He took a cautious step toward the door, getting used to moving, before passing through the doorway.

The other room contained a full length mirror and several clothes. The first thing he looked for was a pair of underpants, finding one that suited his needs quickly. Once he was no longer bare to the world, he began examining the rest of the clothes.

The tops seemed to be split between robes and jerkins of various designs. Gareth pulled out a black jerkin and slipped it over his head. His arms remained free of fabric, and the jerkin felt comfortable, almost as if it had been specifically tailored for him.

Next came a pair of knee long pants, also black in color, followed by a pair of leather boots. Looking in the mirror, Gareth nodded in satisfaction. He found a black ribbon and used it to tie his hair into a rogue knot, before making his way to the next door.

“Damn, looking good,” Arabelle said as he entered.

She was standing in what appeared to be an armory, large, with walls piled with weapons of various sorts.

“Every prospective hero needs a weapon to defend themselves with. Upon selection, you will gain the most basic understanding of the item, enough to use the thing without killing yourself.”

“You mean I get to pick one of these?” Gareth asked, his hand running over a maul.

“Yes, but you only get a single weapon for free. You can learn to use others, but you need to put work into it.”

Gareth made his way to where several swords hung in various shapes and sizes. None of them seemed right to him though, and he moved on. A selection of bows sat next to the swords, and while he wanted to try them out, he felt that there would be something better.

Then he spotted a pair of staves in the corner, oaken and strong. He ran his hand along one, and smiled.

Lifting the staff, he spun it in his hands, enjoying the weight and the balance.

“This one,” he said.

“Good choice. Unassuming and unobtrusive.”

They walked to the next door together, Gareth’s motions with the staff becoming more certain.

“So can you use weapons then?” he asked.

“Of course. I favor the dagger, but have been known to pick up a mace when the need arises.”

“Um, I have a question. This is the afterlife, right? What am I going to be fighting?”

“Oh, nothing if you do not wish it. You can work on your profession instead, if that is your desire. But the option is there, should you want a more violent occupation,” Arabelle explained. “Speaking of professions…”

They walked into another large room, startlingly bare after the armory.

“This is where you will pick your starting profession, like farmer, or gladiator. There are all kinds of options. Here you will also get your first look at what we refer to as the UI.”

“UI?” Gareth echoed uncertainly.

“Yes. For leveling up and stuff. You won't use it much other than that, though it can be helpful when you’re starting out. It’s mind controlled. Just think, and it will appear.”

Shrugging, Gareth closed his eyes, and thought. He felt ridiculous, but when a slight glow appeared behind his eyelids, he gasped.

Letters formed before him, and when he opened his eyes, they remained. He saw a picture of himself to the left of his vision, while his right was taken up by various numbers, labeled stamina, HP, and mana. A large 0 sat in the upper right of his vision.

“It’s a little intense the first time,” Arabelle said, and he turned to look at her.

A name appeared over her head, Arabelle Smith, and then a single word below it, Psion.

“When you look at others with the UI up, you can see what they choose to reveal about themselves. You can change all of that too, just think settings. Sometimes it helps to say it out loud too.”

“Um… settings?” Gareth said.

The information before him changed in an instant, becoming a series of checkboxes.

“You can make it as simple or complex as you’d like. I’ll let you get the hang of it yourself.”

Gareth felt overwhelmed, looking through the plethora of options. He spotted a box that read Simplify, and tried to touch it with his finger. To his surprise, it flashed a dull green, then several of the boxes vanished.

He scanned through the ones that remained, finding a section labeled Display. Reading through the options below it, he set everything so only his name, class, and level were visible.

“The whole thing is rather intuitive, once you know what you’re looking for. You can even pull up a map, or an inventory screen if you don’t want to organise by hand. But for now, try to get to the Profession page.”

‘Okay, I got this…’ Gareth thought, eyes closed.

A new screen appeared, and he saw a giant list.

“This can be sorted into various areas, like if you’re looking for a more hands on profession, or even a specific job like hunter,” Arabelle explained.

Gareth found a section labeled Scholar, under which he found options like scrivener and librarian.

“Can you have multiple professions?” he asked.

“Of course. You would learn them like you would learn a new weapon. Talk to someone and have them train you,” Arabelle replied.

Gareth thought scribe, and the option appeared before him. He selected it, and a bag appeared on his back, already weighed down.

“What happened?” he asked, taking the bag off his shoulders.

“Tools of the trade. You will have a very generalized idea of what to do with them, but I would suggest talking to someone who knows your profession eventually. Let’s move on to class. There are hundreds of choices, as generalized, or specialized as you want. For example, you could choose to be a barbarian, or you could choose to be a monk of the seven winds, learning to use nothing but your breath to take on opponents.”
“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I don’t understand that one either. But there has been at least one person to take the option, otherwise it wouldn’t be there. You can switch to a different class any time you level up. Many people have a main class and dozens of other classes they have tried out. You are never locked into any one option.”

“Damn… That’s a lot.”

“You choose your first class just like you chose your profession,” Arabelle continued.

Gareth thought briefly, and another list came up in front of him, this one simpler than the professions. Only two choices sat before him, Physical and Magic.

‘Well, who would not take a magical option?’ he shrugged.

The list changed, showing different magic sources.

“It says Divine magic is an option. Are there gods here?” he asked.

“Oh no, there are no religions. That is one of the few things lacking here actually, but most people don’t mind. I mean when you’re already dead, who cares what comes next? With the so called divine magic, it really just comes down to faith in yourself. You are your god.”

“Sounds complicated,” Garret muttered, as the Arcane option flashed before him.

An alphabet floated in front of him, and he thought, ‘Well, if I’m going to use magic, I might as well go with a wizard, right?’

The option appeared before him, and he took it. A small book appeared on his hip, as the UI closed.

“Hm, a mage. A very versatile class in itself. You should start with a single cantrip, but those don’t appear in your book,” Arabelle explained. “The cantrip itself depends on your favoured element.”

“So, fire?” Gareth asked.

“If that’s your element. Try to conjure a flame. You’ll have to speak the word, which probably should just be ‘Flame’.”

Gareth held out his hand, palm up.

“Flame,” he said, feeling stupid.

A spark appeared in his hand, and he gasped. It went out quickly, but it had been there.

“Flame,” he said again.

This time, the spark remained in his hand for a second,before sputtering out.

“You do have to watch your mana when you cast spells, but it replenishes, same with your health.”

“What happens when you reach zero health? I mean, we’re already dead, right?”

“You respawn in the nearest cathedral. It could be in a town, or it could be in the wilds. The NPCs take care of them for us.”

“NPCs? How are those-?”

“I don’t know how they exist. Probably the same way the monsters exist. They respawn like you do, but for them it isn’t instantaneous. It usually takes about a year for them to respawn.”

Arabelle took Gareth’s hand.

“Come on, there are two things left to do.”

Claiming his bag from the floor, Gareth followed the psion through yet another door.

The room he found himself in now appeared to be some sort of office. Two comfortable chairs sat with a large desk between them, and a sheet of paper lay on the desk, an inkwell beside it.

Arabelle took the chair behind the desk, and bade Gareth to take the other.

“Now you choose a name. You leave your old name behind you, though some do decide to keep their old names.”

“Can’t I go by Gareth?”

“You can. It’s not particularly elven, but it works for a human.”

Taking out a quill, she began writing on the parchment. A minute later, she finished, and slid the paper over to him.

“I just need your signature to finalize the process, and then you will be free to enjoy the afterlife. Your UI has a section where you can find an answer for many questions you have.”

Gareth read through the paper.

“I, Gareth Hawthorne, agree to start the afterlife as a level one wizard scribe. With me I will carry the tools of the scribe trade, and one oak quarterstaff. By my signature I swear the above is correct and of my own volition.”

“So, I just sign?” he asked.

“Yep.”

Gareth took the quill and dipped it in the inkwell. It felt weird in his hand, but in a comforting way. He set quill to parchment, and a strange feeling entered his hand, as if something was being pulled out of him.

“That’s just the last of your living memories,” Arabelle said at his gasp. “As sinister as it sounds, it’s normal. You enter the afterlife with no previous memories, save what you have learned in here.”

Gareth took a deep breath, then signed.

“Welcome to the afterlife Mr. Hawthorne,” Arabelle smiled, as a door appeared behind her. “Go on through, and enjoy your stay.”

Gareth stood up and collected his staff. He walked around the desk and paused before the door.

‘This is it I guess. Time to start a new life.’

Opening the door, he passed through into blackness.

 

1.

“Hey, we have a newcomer. Mythal, looks like this one’s on you.”

Gareth opened his eyes, blinking in the sudden brightness of his surroundings. He stood on a dais in the middle of a group of people, some of them decidedly nonhuman.

“Hi!” a man said cheerfully, holding up a hand. “I’m Mythal. I’m like the mage guide for this village.

Gareth’s hand tightened on his staff, and he used it to support himself as his knees threatened to collapse.

“Yeah, planar travel can leave you a little weak in the knees,” the man consoled. “So, you’re Gareth?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gareth said, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mythal.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I’m sure you have many questions. Arabelle is not the know it all she may seem at first.”

“She seemed… nice.”

Gareth took a moment to study the group around him. A lizard stood behind him, a glaive in her hand. She smiled reassuringly at Gareth. Her scales shone a bright red, and she had some impressive frill on her head.

“My name’s Loreen,” she said. “I’m a cleric trained in resurrection magic.”

“I’m Bathan,” the next man, or elf in this case, said. “Ranger extraordinaire.”

He was armed with a bow and a pair of wicked looking daggers on his hips. With his long dark hair and red eyes, he unsettled Gareth.

“Terian Mathar, at your service,” the last man said. “I am a battlemind, a psion trained in projecting weapons.”

He was clad in a simple blue robe, and his face was strangely soothing.

“Alright guys, time to back up and let me do my thing,” Mythal chided them.

He gestured for Gareth to follow him, and took off.

As they walked, Gareth realized they were in a large open building. Sunlight streamed through stain glass windows depicting battles and sieges.

“Welcome to your first cathedral. These are the respawn points for when you die,” Mythal explained.

“So if you come here when you die, what’s a resurrection cleric for?” Gareth asked.

“Oh, she helps the process go faster. Normally you’d be out of it for a day after a death, but clerics and other healers can bring that time down considerably.”

They passed through a door into the outside world.

“That was a side passage. It’s quicker for where we are going.”

Gareth looked at the world around him, soaking in the new sights. They seemed to be in the main hub of the town, full of people chatting in groups of two or three. The buildings surrounding the area were short, and seemed to be made of plaster.

“It’s daub. It’s made out of mud or something,” Mythal said when questioned about it.

They made their way to an older man, his hair greying, but still long.

“Watch closely, and follow my lead,” Mythal said. “This is how the world works, quests and sub quests, xp and levels.”

He approached the man.

“Good day Ser Marthas, I have heard that you are having an issue with some moles.”

“Mythal! It’s good to see you again lad!” the man smiled. “Yes, I am having some issues. I let them be in the spring because their digging was helping the soil, but now that the crops have been planting, the moles digging have become a serious problem.”

“I’ve brought one of my pupils to see if he can help you clear them out.”

The man stared at Gareth.

“Huh. I didn’t hear that you had acquired an apprentice,” he said.

“Um, my name is Gareth Hawthorne. It’s a pleasure to meet you ser.” Gareth said, holding out his hand.

He withdrew it at a subtle shake of Mythal’s head.

“Well, I have to say I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you took the job Mythal, but I suppose your apprentice will work.” Ser Marthas said.

“Oh, don’t worry ser. I will be following him and making sure he gets it done properly,” Mythal smiled.

“That does my mind some good. They’re in the potatoes right now. I trust you know where it is,” Ser Marthas said with a gleam in his eyes.

“Aye, I’ve nicked enough of them over the years I should know where it is,” Mythal chuckled. “We will be back when the field has been cleared.”

He ushered Gareth away, and led him down a dirt road that ran out of town.

“So, I figure you don’t really know how to use that staff yet,” he mentioned as they passed through a wood palisade protecting the town.

“Hit the enemy with it?” Gareth shrugged.

“Well, that’s part of it. You’ll gain more force if you hold it near the base. Use it like you would a normal longsword, but without having to worry about your cutting angle.”

“I don’t see you carrying a weapon,” Gareth said.

“I don’t need one. This is a low level quest. I could finish this right now if I so desired, but this is about training you.”

They left the town behind them, moving on to fields that appeared freshly tilled. Mythal continued advising Gareth on the finer points of staff combat, assuring him that he would need to use the weapon.

“You have a fire cantrip. It’s useful, but it won’t do much damage,” he said.

“So, when can I learn something better?” Gareth asked.

“Not for a while. The cantrip costs, what, one mana, and you start with four, more if you chose a certain profession, like mage’s apprentice. You’re not a caster yet. You’ll gain four mana per level unless you choose another class, but for now, focus on your staff work.”

They turned off the road into a barren field.

“There’s nothing here,” Gareth said, looking around.

“Not yet. Get ready.”

Mythal knelt to the ground and stuck his fingers into a hole. Gareth heard the sound of water flooding underground, and a series of squeals as ten creatures scurried up from the dirt.

“Have fun,” Mythal smiled, backing away.

Gripping his staff, Gareth walked towards the first creature. It was dark and velvety, and its nose appeared to have little fingers on it. It sniffed the air and turned to face Gareth, showing a mouth full of pointy teeth.

Gareth raised his staff, and brought it down on the mole’s neck in one quick motion. He heard a loud crunch as the neck broke, and the staff bounced out of his hand at the contact.

Reclaiming the staff, he strode to the next mole and repeated the process nine more times. When the last of the moles fell, he returned to Mythal.

“Not bad,” the man said. “Let’s return and finish the quest.”

As they walked back to the village, Gareth murmured, “UI.”

His information appeared in front of him, showing he had gained fifty experience points out of a hundred necessary to level up.

He dismissed the UI, and focused back on his walk.

“Will I get more xp from turning in the quest?” he asked.

“Yeah, something like this should get you to level two. You can choose another cantrip to learn every level, and a normal spell every five levels. Personally I would suggest Prestidigitation. It’s so nice not having to scrub your clothes.”

“Um, what about bathrooms?”

“Oh, there’s no need for them. Your body absorbs everything. Waste not want not,” Mythal said with a grin.

They entered town and made a beeline for Ser Marthas.

“The task is completed ser,” Gareth said.

“I am glad to hear it. You have saved my crops for the year. You have my thanks, and what coin I can offer.”

Digging through a coin bag on his waist, the man pulled out five copper coins. Gareth accepted them, though he was unsure of where to put them, lacking a bag of his own.

“Don’t worry, that’s enough to get you a bag of your own,” Mythal clapped him on the back. “Come on. I’ll see you around Ser Marthas.”

As he was ushered away, Gareth saw a flash of green light behind his eyes.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I saw nothing. I’m guessing it was you leveling up though. Here,” Mythal said, pointing to the side of a building. “Take a moment here and level up.”

“Um, how?”

“Through your UI. That’s how you get a lot of things done. Just think level up.”

Garret took the advice and immediately his UI popped up, showing him the list of power sources once again.

 

2.

“I should stick with wizard, right?” he asked.

“That’s entirely up to you.”

Shrugging, Gareth took the option, and another screen popped up, this one showing several cantrips. Here he took his time, looking through them. There was one that would allow him to open doors without touching them, one for summoning a tiny light, and even one for brushing his teeth.

He also found Mythal’s Prestidigitation, a cantrip that said it could cause minor sparks to fly, clean clothes, or make a small noise. Most of it didn’t seem useful, but from what he had heard so far, the cleaning could be very helpful. It said a single cast would cost two mana, but he figured it was worth it. He wouldn’t really be casting it in battle anyway.

‘Level,’ he thought after selecting the spell.

The information he wanted showed up, describing him as a second level wizard who would need two hundred xp to level up once more. He also saw that his scribe level was still only one.

“Well, looks like it’s time to look for another quest,” he shrugged, dismissing the UI.

“You ready then?”

Mythal led him through the town, into what seemed to be a shopping centre.

“So, what are we looking for here?”

“A leatherworker,” Mythal replied, pointing at a sign.

“It’s just a picture of a shoe,” Gareth said, looking at him.

“Most NPCs cannot read,” Mythal shrugged. “That sign marks that business as a cobbler’s shop. And he can certainly deal in leather. He should have some bags to spare, or at least be able to point you to someone who does. Actually, that will be your next quest. Go on.”

Mythal walked over to a tree in the middle of the square, and sat against it, leaving Gareth to his own devices. The half elf took a breath, and made his way to the shop.

A bell chimed as he entered, and a man looked up from where he was seated on the dirt floor, a half finished shoe in his hands.

“Ah, a customer. How can I help you ser?” he asked, standing.

“I’m looking for a coin purse and was told you could show me where to find one,” Gareth said.

“Oh yes, I actually have one available right now,” the shop keeper said. “Is this your first day?”

“Um, what?” Gareth asked.

The man chuckled.

“My NPC game must be getting good,” he smiled. “I haven’t seen you around, and we rarely ever get visitors, so I figured you spawned in here. You’re a mage right?”

“Um, yeah,” Gareth said slowly.

“I’m a former paladin. I decided to retire from adventuring for the forseeable future when I got the gold to buy this place. I haven’t regretted it since. It does my heart good to know I can help outfit beginners and the less fortunate. But you need a bag, right?”

Gareth nodded, and the man reached into a cabinet, pulling out a small leather bag.

“Three copper.” he said, holding out his hand.

Gareth handed the coins over, and the man smiled, handing him the bag.

“A pleasure doing business with you. Don’t be a stranger.”

“T-thanks.”

Gareth left the shop and walked over to Mythal, tying the bag to his waist. He dropped the two remaining copper into the bag, as Mythal stood up.

“Well well, looks like you were successful. Why don’t we head back to the cathedral? You’ve done well for your first day.”

“That’s it?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah. You could probably use some time to figure things out for yourself. You won’t be able to afford any camping supplies, so you’re not ready to head out on the road just quite yet. Besides, there’s one more thing I want to give you. But let’s see if you can find your way back to the cathedral. That should give you another 50 xp. I’ll see you there.”

Mythal vanished suddenly, leaving Gareth alone.

“What the fuck?”

Grumbling, Gareth took a look at his surroundings. He had no idea where he was, or what direction he had come from. Maybe there was a map somewhere…

As soon as the thought ran through his head, a map showed on his UI. It didn’t show where he was, but it did show where the cathedral was. It took him a couple minutes, but Gareth was able to figure out where he was in relation to the cathedral, and he began walking.

Five minutes later, he stood before the main cathedral doors, the sun dipping behind his head. As he entered the cathedral, he took a moment to admire the stained windows once more.

“You made it!” Mythal smiled, approaching.

As he neared, Gareth saw that flash behind his eyes again. Another level gained.

 

3.

“So obviously you figured out the map. Now we just need to get you a more offensive spell.”

Gareth sped through his level up, having already decided on the light cantrip. He was pleasantly surprised to find he now had twelve mana at his disposal. It still wasn’t much, but it was getting better.

Mythal handed him a tightly bound scroll.

“It’s a minor Fireball. Ten mana, does a little damage. It should be a good practice spell,” he said. “You have to copy it into your spellbook though, if you want to use it. And eventually you should get a larger book, but that one should keep until about level twenty, depending on how many scrolls you find.”

“Could I copy a healing spell into my book?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah, but you’d have to ask a bard to write one for you. They’re the only arcane class that can heal naturally. There’s a table in that alcove you can use for copying, by the way. And if you’re a writer, it should help level that up too.”

Gareth hurried to the alcove, eager for some time to think. He had been going nonstop since he had arrived. Now it was time to let it all sink in.

It actually wasn’t that difficult to come to terms with his situation. There was nothing to compare it to, with no memory of before. But there was a lot to learn.

Like this spell.

Gareth unrolled the scroll, and began reading through it. It seemed like a bunch of magic gibberish, but at the same time, it somehow made sense. He removed his spellbook from its hip holster, and opened it to the first page. Taking a quill from the table he sat at, he grabbed some ink, and began writing.

As the ink traced over the paper, Gareth was surprised to see it change from black to a fiery red.

‘Must be an elemental thing…’

It took a few minutes, but he finished copying. As his quill penned the last word, the scroll burst into flames, and he yelped.

“Oh yeah! Careful when you finish!” Mythal called.

“You couldn’t have warned me before?” Gareth grumbled, dusting ashes off the table.

A pot of sand sat beside the table, and Gareth took a pinch, dusting it over his book. The action confused him, yet it seemed natural. He blew the excess sand away, and shut the book.

“You’re done then?” Mythal said, leaning against the doorframe to the alcove where Gareth sat.

“I guess I am,” Gareth shrugged, looking down at the ash.

“Great. You can stay here for as long as you need, but we only have four beds. Bathan, Terian, and I have our own homes, but Loreen bunks here, so you’ll have a little company tonight. The town has a curfew of sundown, so stay inside unless you want to fight the town guard. I would not suggest that by the way. They are pretty tough, and if you killed one of them, they’d never forgive you.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“I know how you feel. I’ve leveled by healing anyone I come across, and it actually worked,” Loreen said, walking toward the two. “99 in both Cleric and Doctor. I think there might be a few restoration spells for the wizard, but for the most part, if you just want to be a pacifist, that is as easy as focusing on your profession.”

“We need to head out. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning and set you on your way,” Mythal called as he, Terian, and Bathan left the cathedral.

“The sleeping quarters are this way,” Loreen said, motioning to another door across the main hall.

Gareth followed the lizard into the room, spotting four cots on the floor. Each was separated from the others by a thin sheet hanging from the lower ceiling, to provide privacy.

“If I was traveling, I’d stay in the inn with the others, but as a healer, I remain here in case anyone, Champion or NPC, requires any kind of assistance,” Loreen said. “Why don’t you take the cot furthest to the left?”

Gareth took the suggestion, and found a thin blanket folded beside the cot. He lay down, finding the cot a little hard to sleep on. But at least it wasn’t the ground. Within a minute, he was asleep.

Gareth woke up with the sun shining across his face. He was refreshed, and ready to start a new day of learning. A simple Prestidigitation cleaned what little dirt that had accrued on his jerkin, and he made his way to the door, searching for some food.

“Ah, my new charge awakens,” Mythal grinned as he stepped out of the writing room. “Ready to start the day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Gareth smiled.

The half elf couldn’t figure out why he felt this good, but he wasn’t going to jinx it.

“Well, I really only have two more things for you.”

Mythal turned back into the alcove, beckoning Gareth to follow him.

“Scrolls. You’ve already learned from one. Now you need to learn how to create one. As a wizard, it’s a good way to make some money early on. Cantrips can make you between five and ten copper, depending on the demand for the spell. A cantrip like light is more in demand than say, a simple spark. But I’d like you to copy the fireball spell you learned yesterday back onto this scroll. Then I will teach you how to make it useable.”

Mythal stepped aside, leaving Gareth alone to write. Once again he was finished in around ten minutes, and called Mythal back in as he sanded the ink to dry.

“Alright, it looks good. Now, what you need to do is cast the spell with your hand on the scroll. The ink will soak up the magical energy, storing the spell inside. With the amount of mana it will take to cast the spell, you’ll be unable to properly cast for about an hour I think. That time is based on mana percentage, by the way.”

Gareth pulled out his book, and opened it to the spell. Taking the scroll in hand, he began reading out loud. It took a couple seconds, but soon he felt energy draining out of him rapidly, and the scroll became warm to the touch.

“And there you have it. You can cast that whenever you want, even if you don’t have mana. However, I’ll give you a silver for the scroll. That will give you enough money for a set of camping supplies, should you agree to give me it,” Mythal said.

“Sure,” Gareth said, handing over the scroll.

“Great,” Mythal smiled, handing the wizard the coin.

Gareth saw a flash of blue light behind his eyes as Mythal continued, and he made a mental note to level after Mythal was done.

“Okay, so you’re out of commission for a while, probably pretty tired. Something that will help you regain mana is food and potions. I don’t have a potion, but I can buy you some food. My treat.”

Gareth agreed, slipping the coin into his bag. They walked out of the cathedral, and Mythal pointed them to the town centre once more.

They entered a tavern, and Mythal walked up to the owner, trading a word with him. He returned with two mugs of ale, and a plate of bacon.

“Eat up. The food here’s pretty decent, and the ale’s not bad either.”

“But… it’s morning. Why are we drinking?”

“Because the booze is better than the water around these parts. You’re going to find a lot of rules have changed here. Take sex for one. In life, it was real hush hush. Here, people talk about it openly, and anyone is fair game as long as everyone involved consents. No consent, no sex.”

Gareth’s ears burned at the thought of sex, and Mythal chuckled.

“There’s no gay or straight crap. They ask, and you say yes or no. I’ve been with men, women, ogres, halflings. After a few centuries, you’ll get used to the idea.”

Gareth took a sip of the ale, and gagged. He swallowed the alcohol, but pushed the mug away.

“Yeah, ale can be an acquired taste. If you don’t like it, I’ll finish it.”

Mythal took a swig of his ale, and burped.

“Excuse me.”

They finished the meal in relative silence, and Gareth felt much better. He checked his UI and found his mana was back up to eight of twelve.

“Next, we have the Warzone.”

“Wait, what?” Gareth yelped.

“Relax, we’re just visiting, not joining. Give me your hand.”

Gareth hesitantly held out his hand, and Mythal took it. Darkness took him, and then a sudden brightness.

Opening his eyes, Gareth found himself in another cathedral, one full of guards. Mythal stood beside him, dusting off the shoulder of his robes.

“What just happened?”

“A simple teleportation. Fifty mana to travel to a cathedral you have been to anywhere in the world. It takes a while to get the spell, which pushes most people away, but I like being a wizard, so I was willing to wait.”

Gareth looked around himself. The building appeared to be identical to the other cathedral, with the exception of the guards.

“Why are there guards here?” Gareth asked.

“This is a spawn point. There’s thousands of them in the Warzone, and each is guarded by elite NPCs to prevent spawn killing. The cathedrals in the Warzone are the only cathedrals where you can draw a weapon. We are in the kingdom of Galaway. I swore allegiance to them about fifty years ago. You’re new, and none of the NPCs will attack you until you choose a side, or take up with the brigands who wander the road. This is the only area where Champion killing is allowed. That is the whole purpose of the Warzone, and almost a million Champions take advantage of this place.”

A sword appeared in Mythal’s hand, and he stepped toward the door.

“Stay close to me. We shouldn’t get attacked here, but you never know.”

Gareth gripped his staff, and followed the man outside.

“Mythal?! Damn dude, long time no see!”

An elven woman jogged toward them, a mace swinging from her hip.

“Ailica! It’s good to see you again,” Mythal smiled, embracing the elf. “I’m just showing a new arrival around.”

“Oh! Ailica Faywether, at your service.”

The woman curtsied to Gareth, who blushed.

“Um, Gareth Hawthorne, at yours,” he replied uncertainly.

“Ailica is the sometime consort of the lord of Galaway, but she prefers action to sitting back and running the kingdom,” Mythal explained.

“There’s a small group of brigands a mile to the north. If we hurry, we can catch them,” Ailica added, looking at Mythal.

“I was just going to show Gareth around the town…”

Mythal thought for a moment.

“How many?”

“One Champion, and five NPCs.”

“Dang, that’s easy pickings. You interested Gareth? You don’t have to fight, you can just hang back, and it will give you a taste of real combat.”

Gareth looked between the two.

“Um… sure,” he said slowly.

“Awesome. And don’t worry, I’m a healer,” Ailica smiled.

“And one of the better ones too. I’ve seen Ailica keep a group of twenty on their feet through a siege,” Mythal added.

“Shall we get walking?”

They began their trek, Ailica leading the way. The village looked similar to the other village, but as he looked, Gareth could see various differences. The cathedral was further from the town centre, and the centre itself was smaller.

It was behind them soon enough, and they made their way toward a large forest. They walked in silence, not quite sneaking, but trying to avoid notice.

“They’re hiding in the trees,” Mythal said quietly as they passed into the woods.

Gareth gripped his staff tight, scanning the trees around them. He was scared, but he had to admit to a certain rush of excitement. He could get used to this.

And then the first arrow hit him in the stomach.

Gareth dropped to his knees with a grunt as fire suddenly appeared around him. His stomach burned, the wooden shaft quivering in him. Ailica stood over him, though he took no notice of her, focusing on his breath.

The arrow sent another stab of pain through him, and he howled as the cleric wrenched the projectile from his body.

The pain vanished suddenly, though Gareth still felt it somehow, a ghost of the sensation.

“Get to the tree and duck!”

He followed the order blindly, stumbling over a rock. Another arrow sailed over him as he fell, and he rolled, clambering back to his feet. A figure flew overhead, and he looked up, spotting a childlike person leaping from branch to branch.

“Fire…” he coughed, and a spark left his hand, growing to the size of an apple as it trailed after the halfling.

There was a cry, and a body fell, breaking like a pinata on the ground below. Gareth’s eyes closed, and he panted, his energy gone again. The half elf fell against a tree, and his mind faded into unconsciousness.

He came to a minute later, Mythal slapping his face lightly.

“Come on, they called for reinforcements. We need to move.”

The wizard helped him stand, and shoved his staff into his hand. They fled together, running past the corpse of the halfling. Ailica was nowhere to be seen.

As they ran, Gareth saw the telltale flash of green behind his eyes. He would put off the level for now though. He had no desire to spend a day in the cathedral.

They slowed near the town.

“Fuck…” Mythal panted, as guards rushed past them. “Ailica didn’t make it. I forgot you’re supposed to take your UI off in here. It makes you too easy to spot.”

“I killed someone…” Gareth paled.

“No, that was an NPC. The Champion got away clean, but it was a nice shot. I got you a present though.”

Mythal handed Gareth a bow.

“The rights of spoil go to you. Congratulations.”

Gareth took the bow with a shaky breath. He felt queasy, sickened.

“You’ll have to find arrows for it, but the training range in Malkar will have blunt arrows for you to practice with. Let’s go to the cathedral before we leave. I need to leave a message for Ailica.”

They found themselves in the cathedral soon enough, and Mythal beckoned one of the guards to him.

Gareth sat on a bench, catching his breath as the guard conversed with Mythal. He did not like what he had just done. It may have been what Mythal called an NPC, but to him, Gartt felt like he had killed an actual person. The corpse was real, as was the cry of agony that had come from the halfling’s mouth.

“It’s time to go, unless you’d like to stay here,” Mythal said behind him, touching his shoulder.

Gareth jumped at the contact.

“There are quests you can take in the Warzone, but for the most part it’s all Champion killing.”

“I want none of it.”

Mythal nodded, as Gareth stood up.

“Let’s head outside, and I’ll take you back to Malkar.”

Gareth followed the man out of the cathedral, and took the proffered hand. One moment of intense darkness later, they stood in the other cathedral.

Gareth suddenly let out the vomit he had been holding back, and it sprayed across Loreen. He fell to his knees, gagging, and the cleric knelt beside him, as Mythal cast a cleaning spell.

“Sorry…” Gareth mumbled.

“It happens,’ Loreen brushed it off. “How are you feeling now?”

Gareth’s stomach rebelled in response, and Loreen dodged the spray.

“So much for a free breakfast,” Mythal said.

Loreen glared at the man, and he backed off.

“You’re not fit to go anywhere. Why don’t you go take a break? If you want you could create some scrolls, or you could just rest on your cot.”

The lizard helped Gareth back to his feet and led him to the sleeping quarters. She summoned water in a bucket, and gave him a ladle full.

“Here, rinse your mouth out,” she said.

Gareth did as he was told, sloshing the water around his mouth. It was warm, but it still cleaned him up. He spat it to the side, and lay back on the cot.

“I don’t want to kill…”

“You don’t need to. If you’d like I can show you how to be a healer.”

Gareth nodded, as his eyes closed.

 

4.

Loreen sat beside the half elf, humming softly as her magic eased his mind. He slept peacefully, no dreams to disturb his repose.

He would get used to death. It wasn’t permanent, and so there was no reason to mourn the fallen. But the first time you killed was always difficult.

He woke an hour later, slowly, calmly.

“Welcome back,” Loreen smiled. “How are you feeling?”

Gareth blinked, taking in the lizard standing over him.

She offered him another ladle of water.

“Drink. It will help,” she urged.

The half elf did as he was told, sipping the liquid.

“Do you have a level ready? Because I can help you become a healer if you do.”

“Yeah,” Gareth muttered.

“Divine casters make the best healers, though different classes have different benefits. Bards are arcane if you want to stick to a single power source, but they need music to work effectively. There are other arcane healers, I think, but I can’t remember exactly what they are. A better idea might be trying out a single spell, instead of a whole class.”

“I can do that?”

Loreen smiled.

“Tell me Gareth, how is your voice?”

 

Gareth sat against the wall of the writing alcove, studying his UI while Loreen scribed a song. His scribe level had increased, and he had added another wizard level, grabbing a cantrip to move things from a distance. His mana was full again, and he cast a cleaning spell, removing what was left of his bile.

“Hey,” Bathan said, and Gareth jumped.

The ranger looked at him apologetically.

“Sorry, I’ve been told I’m a little too quiet for my own good. I just wanted to tell you I can train you to use that bow. Right now you could use some ranged attacks.”

“Right now he needs rest. His body is fine, but give his mind some time to settle Bathan,” Loreen said, the scratch of her quill pausing.

“I agree,” Bathan replies. “Terian wants to show him the Dundil mines when he’s back up. He said it’s an easy run, but I still want to make sure you can protect yourself.”

“Why? What’s in there?”

“A few orcs and an ogre at the end. Nothing Bathan, Mythal, Terian, and I can’t handle,” Loreen said. “It will give you a chance to see a raid in progress and to check out some higher spells.”

“And using a bow should help you level up a bit, but I want you to level the weapon first.”

As Bathan left the room, he called over his shoulder, “Oh, and I like the ears.”

“What?”

Loreen chuckled.

“Your ears. Apparently they’re what turn elves on.”

“Really?”

Gareth traced his ear with a finger, as Loreen stood up.

“Alright, we don’t have a subject to practice this on, but here it is.”

The lizard cleared her throat, and began singing, her eyes closed. The language was unlike any Gareth had heard before, and the alien sound made him shiver. As he closed his own eyes, he was taken to a river valley, the water flowing soft and gentle, and as he peered into the stream, his mind felt at peace.

A red glow opened his eyes, and he watched the colour melt into the scroll Loreen held in her hands.

“Some bad news I’m afraid. You won’t be able to learn the spell. But I’ll give you this scroll. It might save someone a trip to the cathedral. If you want to take a level in bard, I’d suggest buying an instrument or working on your singing,” she said.

“Can’t I just copy the scroll into my book?”

“It would be ineffective without a level in bard.”

“So you have a level in bard then.”

“Yes, two. They come in handy occasionally.”

Terian stuck his head in the room.

“We’re heading out to the mine tomorrow. We’ll meet in three hours to discuss everyone’s roles. Gareth, if you’re well enough, I’d like you to go work on your shooting with Bathan,” he said.

Standing, Gareth tucked the scroll in his pack with his scribing supplies, and followed Terian out of the room.

Bathan stopped him, holding out an unstrung bow.

“The first thing to learn when using a bow is to never leave it strung when you don’t plan to use it.”

Gareth took the weapon with a nod.

“Lead the way.”

 

Bathan stood ten metres from a target on the outskirts of the village, strung bow in hand. A quiver of arrows sat beside him, and Gareth stood to his right, watching the ranger.

“When you have the arrow drawn back, you have about three seconds to fire before your aim starts to wobble,” the archer said, pulling the string to the corner of his mouth.

Gareth studied his form in the split second that he held it, watching his muscles tense and flex as Bathan released the arrow. The man was young, he realized, barely older than Gareth.

“Your turn,” Bathan said, as the arrow thumped into the bullseye.

He handed Gareth the bow, their hands brushing briefly.

“Don’t worry too much about hitting the centre right now. Just work on shooting right. Most likely you won’t even fire a shot in the mines.”

Gareth stood beside the quiver, taking an arrow from the bunch. He nocked the arrow after a couple failed tries, and pulled the string back.

“To your lip,” Bathan said, and Gareth pulled back a little further, tilting his head away from the string.

“It’s not going to hurt you. Touch your finger to your lip. And get your pinky off the string.”

Gareth lifted his little finger from the string, and made an effort to keep the string touching his cheek.

“Aim lower.”

“But I’ll miss.”

“No, you’re tilting the arrow up right now. Keep the arrow in line with your mouth.”

Hesitantly, Gareth lowered the bow.

“More. More,” Bathan insisted.

The half elf brought the bow down to his mouth, and Bathan nodded in satisfaction.

“Good.”

Gareth’s muscles were burning, but he held strong, his arms straight as the arrow nocked to the string.

“You can let go when you’re ready.”

His pinky twitched, but the other three fingers remained firmly rooted to the bowstring.

“Let go,” Bathan urged, and Gareth released the string, flinching as the arrow flew from his bow.

The missile bounced off the stone wall behind the target, splintering into several pieces, and Bathan sighed.

“It’s okay, it happens,” he said. “Try again.”

 

An hour and three broken arrows later, Gareth had finally stopped flinching, and his shots began hitting the centre. Bathan told him to stop, and they set about collecting the arrows that had survived.

“It’s a start. We’ll have you shooting like a ranger in no time,” the elf said as they returned to the cathedral.

Terian, Loreen, and Mythal were seated at a table laden with food on one of the side rooms.

“Perks of being adventurers,” Mythal grinned, waving the two in.

“Yeah, the locals are pretty good about feeding you before a quest, if you’re nice to them,” Terian said. “Loreen, you are of course always welcome to come with us, but I feel you’d be better suited to remaining here, in case we have a visitor.”

“Gareth hasn’t seen any cleric magic yet. It’d be a shame if he missed this opportunity.”

Terian nodded.

“Very well. Gareth, it will take a day to reach the mines. We will leave in the morning, and camp at the entrance with a rotating guard, so we are fresh when we enter the dungeon. Bathan will be on point, and I will take center. Gareth, your job will be providing us with light. You shouldn’t have to cast more than two cantrips the entire time we’re down there, so you should have plenty of mana to fight with.”

“They’re not very deep mines,” Mythal added.

Gareth bit into a plump fruit, and sucked at the tangy juice that oozed from it. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste, as Terion continued.

“Mythal, you’ll be our rear guard and blaster, and Loreen, you will be our buffer. We shouldn’t need any heals.”

“If we’re sleeping outside, I should get some camping supplies, right?” Gareth asked.

“You should have gotten them earlier. Curfew’s begun, and I was hoping to leave just as it lifts.”

“Don’t worry, I have an extra blanket you can borrow,” Bathan smiled.

“Um, thanks.”

“Bathan, try to grab a deer while we’re on the road,” Terian said.

“Can do.”

“I think we’re ready then. Gareth, trust us, and we’ll all get through this. Everyone sleep well tonight, because tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Are we all sleeping here?” Gareth questioned, as Mythal cleared dinner away with a murmured word.

“Yeah. It is tradition for questing heroes to sleep in cathedrals before they leave. The locals say it helps attune the soul to the building, and helps the departed find their way back,” Loreen replied.

“Newcomers get the floor,” Mythal grinned, looking at Gareth.

“Oh you hush Mythal. We can make up another bed,” Loreen scolded, heading into the sleeping quarters.

She walked out with a pile of blankets.

“I figured you might be more comfortable sleeping out here. The boys can be a little rowdy.”

“Thanks,” Gareth smiled gratefully, taking the sheets.

“Well, let’s head to bed. We’re going to be up early tomorrow,” Terian said.

“If you need anything in the night, don’t hesitate to let me know,” Bathan told Gareth.

“I will.”

Gareth carried his bedding to the dais in the main hall, and spread it out, laying down with a sigh. He pulled the blanket over himself, and was snoring a minute later

 

“Hey!”

Gareth’s eyes flew open, and he scanned the room.

“Over here. It’s time to wake up,” Bathan said, stuffing a blanket into a bag.

The half elf yawned, and sat up.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you as well. I picked out a quiver of arrows for you,” the elf said, nodding at a quiver resting against a wall.

“Mythal, what did you do with my axe?” Terian yelled, walking into the room.

“Why do you always assume it’s my fault things are missing?”

Mythal entered the room, pulling a red tunic over his head.

“Because you’re generally responsible for its disappearance,” Bathan suggested.

“Hey, I haven’t taken rogue in three levels,” Mythal shot at the ranger, who shrugged as he double checked his bag.

Gareth began folding his blankets as the hall filled with a flurry of activity. Carrying the bedding into the sleeping chamber, he set them on a table, and grabbed his boots and staff.

“You can leave your scribing supplies behind,” Bathan said behind him.

“Shit!”

The elf grinned bashfully as Gareth spun around.

“Sorry…”

He held out Gareth’s bow, and the half elf accepted it.

“You’re still new. I would avoid firing into a melee. But at least you have it if you need it.”

Gareth nodded, and made his way back out to the main hall. He strapped his quiver to his waist, tucking the bow into it, and leaned against the wall, waiting for everyone else to be ready.

“Quite the show, huh?” Loreen said, leaning next to him.

She rest her glaive against the wall, and watched the men run around.

“How are you doing?”

Gareth shrugged.

“Nervous? It’s always a little nerve wracking, going on a quest.”

“Do I have to kill?” Gareth asked quietly.

Loreen shook her head no.

“We’re there mainly for support. But death is never the end here. Anyone you kill will be back eventually. I have died to these orcs myself. We always rise again.”

“We can have a philosophy discussion on the road,” Mythal said. “Let’s go.”

“I always thought mages were supposed to be wise,” Gareth said, grabbing his staff.

Loreen chuckled.

“Wisdom is not something anyone would accuse Mythal of having.”

A rooster crowed as they left the cathedral, Bathan taking point. The sun shone just above the horizon, providing plenty of light, and a light breeze blew across the group. They soon left Malkar behind them, following the road east out of the town through the fields.

They walked in silence for some time, Gareth watching the world around them. Hills rose in the distance, mountains behind them, and Bathan led them off the road, cutting through the fields straight toward the mountains.

Around midday, the group entered a forest, and Bathan strung his bow, before leading them further in. Wolves howled in the distance, and Gareth flinched, scanning the trees around them.

“Relax,” Loreen smiled, placing a hand on the hal elf’s shoulder.

Bathan held up a hand, and the group froze. The ranger stalked out of sight, and five minutes later he returned, carrying a deer over his shoulder.

“I’ll have this thing ready to travel in an hour,” he said, tossing the animal on the ground and removing a dagger from his belt.

Gareth sank against a tree, grateful for the chance to rest. He turned his head away from the grisly spectacle of Bathan preparing their meal, and studied the trees around them.

“Where are we?”

“The Gathar Woods. You should be able to see them on your UI now,” Terian said, cutting a small piece of wood.

Loreen handed Gareth a small bowl of water, and he drank it all, surprised at how thirsty he was.

“I thought water here was bad,” he said, handing the bowl back to the cleric.

“You shouldn’t believe everything Mythal tells you,” Bathan called.

“Hey! I’m a trustworthy guy!” Mythal sat next to Terian, writing in his spellbook.

Gareth watched Loreen cast a spell over the bowl, and water flowed out of the air into the bowl.

“It’s fresh,” she said, handing it to him again.

Gareth drank more slowly this time, handing the bowl back when it was half full. He was startled by a sudden growl, and lunged for his staff as a pair of wolves appeared.

“It’s okay, they were drawn here by the deer,” Loreen said, placing a calming hand on Gareth’s shoulder.

The creatures stalked over to Bathan, who smiled as they glared down at him.

“Patience my friends. There is enough for us all here,” the ranger said soothingly.

The wolves circled around him menacingly, then they backed off and sat facing the ranger as he continued cutting into the deer.

Gareth watched the wolves warily, but settled down as everyone else went about their business. He opened his UI and began experimenting with the map and the codex, neither of which had much in them.

“What’s the point of leveling scribe?” he asked randomly.

“It allows you to copy things at a faster rate,” Mythal said, taking a bite of bread.

“Dude, how long has that been in your bag?” Loreen asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Dunno. A couple weeks? It seems fine to me,” the mage replied.

Shaking his head, Gareth turned back to the UI. He was still a low level four, but the others had assured him that he would level up from this raid.

 

“Finished.”

Gareth’s eyes flew open, and he sat up. The group was packing their bags, and he could see the wolves tearing into the remains of the deer.

“Did you have a good nap?” Loreen asked as Gareth stood.

“I didn’t even know I was asleep,” Gareth yawned, grabbing his staff. “It happens so fast…”

“Yeah, it’s great. You lay down, and boom, you’re asleep.”

They fell back in line behind Bathan, and began walking again. Gareth opened his map, and watched the blank space fill as they made their way further into the woods.

“We’re about three hours away,” Loreen said.

“Huh?”

“Your map. After a while, it becomes obvious when someone’s looking at it.”

“Oh. It’s really cool, watching the world fill in around you. Takes the tedium out of walking.”

“You know what else can help?”

Loreen snapped her fingers, and a lyre appeared in her hands. She strummed her fingers across the strings, testing the sound, then began playing a song.

Terian laughed, and started singing, tenor voice rising to a surprisingly clear height. Bathan and Mythal joined in, and Gareth remained silent, the song unknown to him.

The walk continued, the group teaching the music of the world to Gareth until he was able to sing with them. Time passed, until Bathan held up his hand again, cutting off the singing.

“There’s usually a couple guards at the entrance to the mines. We don’t want to disturb them until morning.” he explained to Gareth.

“So are we camping here then?”

“Oh no, we have a spot we usually stay in when we make this run, about a half mile west from here.”

Bathan continued walking, changing direction, and the group followed.

 

Gareth wrapped the extra blanket around himself, scanning the camp site. The orcs shouldn’t come this far, or so Terian had told him. The fire was burning low, and the leftovers from the deer divided and packed away. Bathan was a surprisingly decent cook, and everyone had eaten their fill of the meat.

But having a full belly didn’t help Gareth stay warm in the wind that kicked up as they settled down for bed. They wanted to keep the fire down to avoid notice, but he was freezing, and the blanket wasn’t helping.

Something soft and heavy fell across his shoulders, startling him.

“You okay?” Bathan asked, sitting beside him.

“Just cold.”

Gareth lifted an arm, realizing the ranger had placed a deer pelt over him.

“Ew. Is this fresh?”

“I haven’t had the chance to cure it yet,” Bathan shrugged. “It’ll keep you warm though.”

“What are you doing up?”

“It’s almost my watch. And I wanted to talk to you a bit.”

“About my ears?” Gareth smirked.

Bathan chuckled, scratching his head.

“You know, when I first saw you, you scared me.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that. I guess I kind of put people off,” Bathan shrugged. “I hope I don’t scare you now.”

Gareth shook his head no.

“There’s a festival in four days in town. Will you go with me?”

“Sure.”

Bathan smiled slightly, touching Gareth’s hand lightly.

“I’ll take over from here. Why don’t you get some sleep?” he said. “You can use my sleeping bag.”

“Thanks,” Gareth smiled.

He stood up and walked around the camp, crawling into Bathan’s sleeping bag. He was getting used to knocking out in under a minute, and when his eyes closed, he didn’t fight it.

 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, everyone going over the day’s plans in their minds. Gareth refused to eat, his stomach in knots. The others left him alone, knowing the struggle he was going through.

“We’ll leave our packs here. Take only what you need,” Terian said, as Bathan doused the fire.

Gareth strapped his hip quiver on, and stood up, leaning on his staff. He followed behind Terian, as the battlemind followed Bathan through the trees.

They paused ten minutes later, and Bathan pointed out two orc guards at the entrance of the mine.

“We’re going to wait until they change the guard,” Terian whispered to the group.

“Gareth, do you think you could take one out from here?” Bathan asked.

The half elf shook his head violently, and the ranger shrugged.

“Mythal?”

“Yeah, just say the word.”

They sat and watched the orcs for what felt like ages. Finally another pair of orcs emerged from the mines, and began talking to the guards.

“Two hours,” Terian murmured, fingering the haft of his axe.

“Now?” Mythal asked.

“No, we want to take them silently, together,” Bathan replied.

A sword appeared in Mythal’s hand as he sighed. Loreen sat next to Gareth, resting her glaive across her lap.

“Take a deep breath. Relax. We know what we’re doing,” she said.

“Is it too late to beg out?”

“You’ll miss out on a large reward if you do.”

“If you want, you can guard our rear, and keep us from being cut off,” Terian said, still watching the orcs.

Gareth watched the first two orcs vanish into the mine, and nodded.

“Okay.”

Bathan made them wait another minute, stringing his bow. He helped Gareth string his bow, then turned to Mythal.

“Now.”

The ranger drew his bow back, and fired, as a cloud of dark smoke enveloped Mythal. A second later, the two guards fell, to Bathan’s arrow and Mythal’s sword.

“Let’s go,” Terian said, and the group hurried to the mine entrance, where Mythal was busy looting the dead orcs.

“Hold up guys,” Loreen said before they entered the mine.

She took the swords of the fallen, and placed the weapons on their bodies.

Gareth smiled grimly, appreciative of the gesture.

They filed into the mine, Gareth entering last behind Loreen.

“Light please,” Terian called quietly, and Gareth cast his spell, silently commanding the glowing orb to stay above Mythal’s head in the middle of the line.

Terian placed a hand on a support beam, and nudged.

“Still solid. We should be good,” he said.

They began walking, Gareth’s staff clicking quietly on the ground. He began glancing behind them, searching for any sign of movement, and missed Bathan firing another arrow.

He didn’t miss the sound of the body hitting the floor though.

“Left here,” Terian murmured, and Bathan stepped over the body, turning down a side passage.

Gareth gagged as he stepped over the corpse, but followed the group. The sound of dripping water entered his ears, and he strained his eyes, trying to look past the light. The smell of damp dirt hit his nose, and his hand brushed the side of the tunnel they walked along, the packed earth cool to the touch.

“Gareth, put the light out,” Terian hissed, and Gareth let the spell end.

He blinked in the sudden darkness, his eyes latching onto a bobbing light in the distance. The tinks of a pickaxe hitting rocks could be heard, and by unspoken agreement the group began walking toward the sound.

They descended in the gloom, picking their steps carefully, growing ever closer to the lantern. Gareth used his staff to feel the way in front of him, tapping at the ground quietly.

A section of earth gave way under his staff, and the half elf slid forward with a yelp. A scale covered hand grasped his wrist, and he dangled in midair, feet trying to find purchase.

Loreen pulled Gareth back over the edge and both sat panting, as Terian and Mythal took up guarded stances. There were no sounds of mining anymore, only the steady drip of the water.

“We are not in a good spot. Can you move?” Loreen asked.

Gareth nodded, rising shakily to his feet. He had lost his staff to the hole, and took Loreen’s hand, letting her guide him around the hole. They continued walking, Gareth dreading every step he took.

“They’re coming,” Bathan said, stopping.

“Gareth, cast a light behind us,” Terian requested, and the mage did as he was asked.

He removed his bow from his quiver, and took an arrow in his hand, heart pounding in his chest.

“They’re trying to kill you,” Loreen said. “Don’t let them.”

Gareth took a deep breath, and released it, placing the arrow on his string.

“Watch our back,” the cleric told him, casting a ward around the group.

Gareth squinted in the light, as he heard Mythal cast a spell. He thought he saw movement beyond the light, and he drew the bowstring back.

The half elf dropped his aim slightly, and checked to make sure his pinky was free of the string. He took another breath, and allowed the string to slide from his grip.

He was rewarded with a grunt, and a flash of green behind his eyes.

“Accuracy glyphs. They work great,” Loreen smiled behind him.

More motion caught his eye, and he fired another arrow, this one bouncing off the wall.

“We have orcs on both sides,” Loreen said calmly, an orb of radiance flying from her hand.

She stepped in front of Gareth as an orc shouted in pain, holding her glaive outstretched.

“Keep firing,” the cleric advised, as more orcs made themselves known.

The lizard stalked forward, past the light, and Gareth followed her, finding he could see better on the other side. He fired at an orc, the arrow catching the creature in the gut. Loreen finished it off with another spell as three more orcs surged forward.

Loreen lunged forward, catching an orc in the throat.

“Thank goodness they’re unarmoured,” she said, ripping the orc’s throat and bringing her glaive around to hold off the other two.

“Fire,” Gareth said, holding out his hand, and a spark grew in his hand, slamming into an orc with the force of a baseball.

The orc yelped as his shirt smoldered, and he slapped himself, dropping his guard. Loreen darted forward, skewering him, and the other orc charged her.

Gareth leapt between the orc and the lizard as Loreen struggled to remove her glaive from the latest corpse. Cold steel thrust into his gut, and he cried out.

It was gone an instant later, as the orc fell with Loreen’s glaive in his throat.

“Heal,” Loreen said urgently, and Gareth felt the gash in his gut close.

An arrow slammed into his back, and Gareth pitched forward, falling flat on his face.

“Gareth’s down!” Loreen called, her voice dim in Gareth’s ears.

No. I’m still alive. Help.

His eyes closed, and Gareth was gone.