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Chapter Three – “Roast Beef and Revelation”

  I felt like an asshole. The woman I nearly choked out could’ve easily skewered me in the guts while I was preoccupied with her squad mates, but she didn’t. She was certainly in a position to do so, and had she not gotten as close as she’d been before I grabbed her, the short spear she held would have given her the reach.

  At least I didn’t accidentally kill her. Things would be vastly different right now.

  I’m not even sure how I noticed her. The overwhelming power coursing through me just seemed to heighten my senses beyond anything I could conceive. I was keenly aware of the three who had approached from the front, almost as if I could—hell, I don’t know, see their souls? Life forces? Some kind of aura?

  Captain Relian Vos appeared to be experienced. Not only was he able to keep a level head, but he was also a capable negotiator, knowing how to change tack to diffuse a conversation. I had to admit that I was surprised by how he’d asked about my military service. It had been a good choice and had gotten me to calm down, primarily because it forced me to face the ridiculous circumstances I was now in.

  Vos was around my height at six feet, with dusty blonde hair, eyes so dark they could have been bck, and a jawline that would make most women swoon. He was thin and mid-30s, but I could see the toned muscles of a man who had kept himself prepared for battle. Lean and lithe, probably quick and agile. I had to admit, he was qualified to be on the cover of Men’s Health magazine.

  The fire woman looked young, maybe in her twenties, with irises that bzed red with the same ferocity of the fmes she had produced in her hands. I’ll call her Fireball, for now. She was on the shorter side, maybe 5’3”, with dark brown hair in a long, braided ponytail that hung past her slim waist. I would put her squarely in the ‘don’t stick your dick in crazy’ category—pretty, but liable to go all Lorena Bobbitt if you weren’t careful. ...just look it up.

  The big guy with the swords was interesting. He hadn’t said much and seemed to be the most at ease during the encounter, like someone who had seen a whole bunch of bad shit but kept his head the entire time. He was observant, but I could tell he was the calming influence in the group by the way he tried to soothe the angry girl. And by big guy, I mean big. Maybe not Haftór Bj?rnsson big, but close—maybe six-five, three-thirty if I had to guess.

  What I didn’t expect to see from the swordsman, though, was the curiosity in his eyes. Vos was determined and focused on his goal, Fireball was eager to fight, and I think I may have scarred the Invisible Woman for life. But the swordsman...he felt like a brother in arms, as if he and I had served in battle together and formed a strong bond. Of course, he could probably channel lightning through his swords, or summon a ghost wolf, or whatever passes for ‘normal’ here, so I wasn’t keen on testing his patience.

  That left Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman—no, wait. Fireball had called her name. Sarah? Anyway, she carried herself with grace and a Charlize Theron-type of elegance that made her look more like a supermodel than some sort of warrior. With shoulder-length blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a body that just won’t quit, I would have expected her to be a news reporter as The Face of the Kingdom of Tavelyn. I had no doubt she could work an enemy over with that spear, or the shortsword on her belt, but it was clear she was the intelligence or reconnaissance officer with that invisibility skill.

  “I wasn’t kidding about that water,” I said. “I’m fucking parched. All I could find were those weird silver puddles.”

  “I would not advise trying to drink raw Essentia,” Captain Vos said, his posture steady. “You’ve seen what just being around it has done to these beasts. At its worst, it can be fatal.”

  “Essentia,” I said, tasting the word. “It looks like liquid mercury.”

  Vos tilted his head, thinking. “I’m not familiar with that word.”

  Beside the Captain, Fireball was fussing over the blonde’s neck and getting her hands smacked away as Sarah tried to focus on the conversation.

  I frowned. “Sarah, I apologize for--”

  Fireball turned on me. “It’s Sira, you fucking Grav--”

  “Arwen!” Vos snapped, then his tone softened but his eyes were harsh. “We are having a peaceful discussion. I’d like to keep it that way.” I watched as he gnced at Sira—not Sarah—and jutted his chin out so she’d escort the fiery Arwen off to cool down.

  “Relian, Arwen, and Sira,” I said, looking at the rge swordsman. “I haven’t had the pleasure of your name.”

  Apparently surprised that I was addressing him, the rge man inclined his head. “Greetings, Dane Walsh. I am Kael Thorne, master swordsman under Mage-Captain Vos. I am pleased to meet an Ashkaari, and one who is open to dialogue.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Why wouldn’t I be open to dialogue? Other than mistaking Sira’s approach as hostile—again, my apologies—I'm more than happy to talk things out instead of resorting to violence. Frankly, I’ve had enough of that throughout the years.”

  “It is obvious you have experience in that regard,” Kael said softly. Well, as softly as his deep baritone voice would let him. “From one warrior to another, I can understand your feelings on the matter.”

  Yeah. I was beginning to like this guy. I knew I was right about him. And when he detached a leather canteen from his belt and tossed it to me, I thought about proposing to him then and there.

  “Holy shit, thank you,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “As I stated,” Vos said, bringing the conversation back on track, “the reason we are here is to request that you accompany us to Azarien, our capital city.”

  I chugged half the water in the container, not bothering to wipe my mouth since it would just smear more sparkly blood on my face, then tossed it back to Kael with a grateful nod.

  “And what will I be doing in Azarien? If it involves more monsters, more blood, or more magical bullshit, I might just need another canteen.”

  Kael chomped down on his lips to keep from chuckling, but Captain Vos took it in stride. All business, this one.

  After a beat, Vos spoke. “Dane, did your world ever receive Ashkaari, or beings from other worlds?”

  “Nope--well, maybe? Hell, I don’t know,” I said honestly. “There are stories that we had alien beings who have visited. The government allegedly covered it all up to keep the public from pissing their pants.”

  “And what happened to these storied visitors?”

  “Again, I don’t know that it ever actually happened,” I replied, “but the story goes that the governments seized their ships and took the aliens to some secret government b so they could steal their technology and dissect the aliens to see what made them tick.”

  Vos looked stricken. He and Kael exchanged wide-eyed gnces before the captain replied. “That’s...that’s barbaric,” Vos replied.

  Well, things were looking up. It appeared I wasn’t going to Area 51 on this world, and maybe—just maybe, they weren’t going to lobotomize me.

  I shrugged. “Could be real, could’ve been made up. But you still didn’t answer my question.”

  Vos straightened his back as if affronted. “We do not dissect people,” he said primly. “You would be escorted to the Shardhall where a High Arcanist will attempt to understand more about you.” Seeing the dubious look on my face, he quickly continued. “I assure you, Dane, you will not be attacked in any way. The Arcanists use scrying spells to--”

  “Okay, but why?” I interrupted. “Why use a spell when I can just answer your questions?”

  “Where were you born?” Kael asked, surprising Vos as the rge man took a step forward.

  “Portnd, Oregon. Close to the ocean, mountains, and forests much prettier than this,” I said, waving my arm around.

  “You must realize that your answer tells us nothing,” Kael replied. “It is not that we would not believe you, but our worlds are not the same. We simply do not have a frame of reference for your home, or even the army you served in.”

  “I was a Marine, not some army wimp,” I replied with a pointed look. Kael simply nodded in understanding. Damn, I really liked this guy!

  “The scrying will allow the Arcanists to see who you are, Dane,” Vos said, picking it back up. “I’m certain you don’t realize this, but what you have done here,” he gestured to the Wyrmroot corpses around him, “is not something any of us could have done on our own.”

  “Ah,” I said, realization smacking me in the face. “You want to see if I’m friend or foe, or if I’m going to become a problem child in the future.”

  “I would not say it in such a way, but that is the case.” Vos seemed to want to say more, but he looked conflicted. I thought I’d help him out.

  “Speak your mind, Captain,” I said. “I’m sure it can’t be any worse than what I’ve gone through so far. Worst case, I punch another magical pnt monster and call it a day.”

  Vos exhaled slowly. “In our world, an Ashkaari is someone not born of Velkarin. You are not the first, Dane. There have been others throughout history. Always rare. Always appearing before something…changed.

  “Some were revered. Others feared. A few,” he paused, “a few brought destruction the likes of which our world still bears scars from.” He looked me in the eyes then—not challenging, just honest. “We do not know what you are, or why you’re here. And that uncertainty is why we must tread carefully.”

  I could tell from his body nguage and what he said that Vos was still on his guard with me. It seemed that Ashkaari were not just oddities having come from other worlds, but they came with power. I’d seen that firsthand from the moment I arrived. The resounding beat of my heart in sync with the world around me, that moment when heat had coursed through my body, and when Captain Vos and his squad found me and I could sense their being.

  Like Uncle Ben said, with great power comes great responsibility, and from what I was picking up from Vos’ words, not all Ashkaari handled it well. I mean, destruction the likes of which this world still bears scars from? That sounded like some nuclear-level threat, or even catastrophic earthquake or volcano shit.

  Were Ashkaari powerful enough for that? If so, I understood why this group had been sent out here. And I also understood that if I hadn’t been my super cordial self, we wouldn’t be throwing words around but punches.

  Finding out what I could do to those beasts, how I had even survived all those attacks, I’m not sure things would have ended well for Vos & Co. if they had come in a bit more heavy-handed...or if Arwen had been the captain of this little expedition. And while I don’t know how I would fare against humans who could throw fireballs or turn invisible, I was pretty sure at least a few of them would have been taken out before I was.

  I sighed. I didn’t like that train of thought. I fully admit that I am a killer. I have killed. Numerous, numerous times. I’m not a murderer but try telling that to the families of those who had to bury the enemies with the misfortune of running into me in battle. Killing isn’t fun. It isn’t glorious. It’s sickening, and it may sound like some beatnik mumbo-jumbo, but it really does take a piece of your soul away each time you extinguish another life.

  And, hey, this was a new world I was on. Vos spoke of mages and arcanists. I don’t know what an arcanist is, but it sounds cool, maybe even smart. They might be able find a way for me to go home. If not, surely, they could help me figure out what exactly was happening to me and if those pools really were giving me brain cancer.

  Picking up my sheath, I slid it onto my belt, shoved the Ka-Bar into pce, and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Captain Vos blinked a few times in disbelief. “Just like that?” the man asked.

  “I mean, we can hang out here a bit longer with the vicious beasts who bite first and ask questions ter. But I’m really hoping you guys will let me clean up a bit. Ooh—do you have sandwiches? I could eat, you know? I’ve been a little busy of te, and a nice roast beef sandwich wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe some fried potatoes?” I snapped my fingers. “Potato sad!”

  Kael chuckled lightly, and I could see Captain Vos’ relief that I wasn’t going to be a problem. At least, for now, unless he was worried about how expensive it would be to take me to lunch.

  “Captain Vos,” Kael said, “should we collect the corpses? Since this has turned out better than we expected, and Dane is willing to come with us, it seems only fair that he reap the benefits of his hard work.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Collect the corpses? For what?”

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t Vos or Kael who spoke up. Sira rejoined the group, but I saw that Arwen was still some distance away. Her angry, red eyes were still staring daggers at me.

  “These beasts,” Sira said, “are useful to alchemists, armorers, and others in Azarien. Several of them can be butchered and used for delicacies. Being new to this world, taking them would benefit you financially.”

  I didn’t hear a damn thing she said. I think my soul left my body for a moment and just hovered there, weeping. Her voice was like an aria, one of those that demanded your attention and left you breathless the entire time.

  I just nodded like an idiot.

  “Is there room?” Vos asked, gncing at me before adding, “There are so many.”

  Kael thought briefly, then nodded. “I believe that our pouches will be able to collect them all if we each take some.”

  I heard a loud huff from Arwen and saw her cross her arms angrily.

  Captain Vos nodded. “We will begin collecting them on the way back to the horses.” He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes on Arwen, then shook his head. Turning to Sira, he said, “Would Valis be able to carry both you and Dane?” He pursed his lips and lowered his voice. “I was going to suggest he ride with Arwen, but, well...”

  “Valis is sturdy,” Sira replied with a curt nod, even as she cast a bit of side-eye my way. “She can handle it.”

  I could see how close-knit these three were and it reminded me of some of the groups I’d served with throughout my military career. Knowing how to read someone’s intentions with something as simple as a nod or slight gesture could communicate quicker than speaking words aloud. This was evident when Vos gnced very briefly at Kael, then at Arwen. Without a moment’s hesitation, the big man turned to join the feisty little firestarter.

  It was impressive. Of course, with magic apparently being a thing, for all I knew they could all speak to each other telepathically and I was just the odd man out.

  We walked back the way I had come with Arwen and Kael several meters ahead. Revisiting some of the scenes of death and destruction was off-putting. Some, I didn’t even remember killing. Seeing the pure carnage and deconstructed bodies of some of the beasts was just insane.

  Occasionally, we would come across a thick patch of the weird, bck blood but found no bodies around. Sira saw my head whipping around and helped me out.

  “Kael is collecting a few as we walk,” she said as we walked up to yet another of a multitude of corpses. I watched in stunned fascination when she touched the body, and it soundlessly disappeared.

  “Whoa! Where did it go?” I asked.

  Sira tapped a leather bag about the size of a coffee mug that was attached to her waist. “Voidpouch. It stores non-living items in a voidspace, preserving them in a form of stasis until the items are removed.”

  “You have bags of holding here!?” I said a bit too excitedly. “That is so fucking cool.”

  Everyone stopped, even Kael and Arwen ahead of me, turning to look at me like I’d just grown a third head.

  “What? Is cursing not allowed here?” I asked sheepishly. “Occupational hazard. Sorry.”

  “I thought you said your world had no magic,” Vos said.

  “It...doesn’t?” I replied, confused, then had a moment of crity. “Oh! The bags of holding thing? We have stories about magical things and people, and some of those were integrated into games that we py. Fey, elves, dark elves, goblins, or darkvision and bags of holding. That kind of thing.”

  The four exchanged a look. I began to feel a bit tense like I’d just stuck my foot in my mouth.

  “Um...we’re not gonna’ have to fight now, are we?”

  “How is it possible?” Sira asked, ignoring my question. She was looking at Vos.

  “Dane, we have those things on our world, or had,” Vos said. “They have not been called bags of holding since the emperor during the Age of Chains restructured magic into the form we know it as now.”

  I took a moment to study all their faces, happy to see they weren’t going to attack me for what I’d said. Actually, scratch that. Arwen still wanted to hit me with a fireball, I’m certain of it. But not because of this.

  “Okay,” I replied. “And why is it important that I called it that?”

  “Because Ashkaari come to Velkarin,” Kael spoke up. “Velkarins do not leave to become Ashkaari elsewhere.”

  Sira studied my face as she asked, her voice just above a whisper, “Which begs the question, how is it you could know of our history, Dane Walsh?”

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