The Calamitous Bob

One week later.

“I cannot come with you.”

Varska poured tea from her favorite teacup, expression grave. While Viv would have preferred it if she had joined but her refusal was expected. In fact, Viv had not even asked.

“I know,” she told the mage, “I expect that you have duties.”

“Indeed. I promised our dear mayor that I would remain on the ready three seasons out of four, winter being usually a period of low activity for monsters here. I have to respect my promises, and I cannot justify this… fool’s errand you will be pursuing.”

The two women picked up their cups and sipped in silence. Varska’s new housekeeper, one of Gogen the Cleaner’s cousins, passed her head through the door.

“You will be needing anything else, ladies?”

“Not until dinner, thank you,” Varska replied with just a little bit of haughtiness. It always amused Viv how the mage bristled at the mere mention that she would need any sort of assistance with tea.

“You do not think that we will succeed?” Viv asked after savoring the infusion’s delicate flavor.

“You may. You may not. But you would not find a self-respecting mage of Helock taking part in such a risky expedition. Only one caster? And not even an earth specialist? Please. Farren is most daring. Most daring!”

“It’s not like there is an overabundance of us around,” Viv remarked.

“Irrelevant. While I approve of initiative and ambition, I cannot help but note that he is overstepping his role. Farren was tasked with making sure that Kazar was a well-functioning temple base to facilitate traffic to and from the deadland outposts, not to revive the entire region. Bah, it matters not. You already agreed.”

Viv shrugged sheepishly.

“I kind of need a functional soul, you know?”

“Ah, yes, my apologies. You are so… normal. According to outlander standards — ”

“Hey!”

“ — That I often forget about the wound. Do you feel any different?”

Viv had considered the question extensively. She watched Varska refill her cup while she replied.

“My emotions are more raw. I find it more difficult to stay in control and some social games try my patience while, before, I would have been navigating them without issue. I don’t know how much of it is the wound and how much is me simply changing. The main symptom is that I simply cannot pray to any of the local gods.”

“A very localized but very deep wound then. In any case, that specific one will not kill you while the expedition could. So…”

Varska blushed a bit and averted her eyes. Viv found the bashfulness rather adorable.

“I prepared something for you. Better than your current protection.”

Viv still used the leather armor she had found in Harrak whenever going into battle. It was nice and functional. More importantly, it did not get in the way.

“Here,” Varska said.

She stood up from the tower’s reception table and opened a nearby chest. Viv watched as she was handed an off-white cloth of good size. Even folded, it was rather cumbersome.

Varska let go.

Heavy too.

“Go on, try it,” the mage urged.

It was a robe. A mage robe with a thick fabric in the slightly eastern style of Varska’s other garments. The shoulders were padded and horizontal, with sleeves allowing for freedom of movement. It also had a mandarin collar and an opening on the side rather than the front. The robe went down into a skirt and trousers combo. It was off white and undyed like most clothes here, but the make was exquisite and, more importantly, there were protective runes inscribed on regular intervals.

Viv did not need to focus to realize how magical the thing was. Power practically radiated from it. Interestingly, she recognized black and colorless strands.

“It repairs itself and resists damage. Since you have that strange skinsuit of yours, temperature control is barely a concern. Your defense against magical attacks is also decent for someone so early on her path, so I thought it best to provide physical protection. And you will finally look like a proper caster instead of some cursed bloodline’s last scion.”

“Wow. Darling. I don’t know what to say.”

Varska opened a fan and raised exactly one imperious brow.

“Thank you would be a good start, and I will also accept outrageous praises.”

“Oh, great Helockian one. This garment is both incredibly stylish and remarkably powerful. I can tell that it was custom-made locally, which speaks of foresight, affection, and attention to detail. I can tell that someone weaved it according to your specifications and you made the runes yourself using dye that, I surmise, you extracted from your own flowers. It is both thoughtful, practical and elegant which are qualities I associate with you. I would also add that it is my finest possession and that no one had done something that thoughtful for me that I can remember, in this world or the previous one.”

Varska closed the fan with a snap.

“Not bad.”

“I try. Seriously though, I will cherish it. Thank you very much.”

“You can thank me by coming back alive. Is your black core charged? Is Solfis?”

“The black core is charged and Solfis is close to fifty percent capacity. I can go over my preparations with you later, since you are such a worrywart.”

“Have you already been on expeditions that would last several weeks?” the mage challenged.

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

Varska just huffed.

The time had come for Farren’s attempt to find the lost iron mines of Min Goles. Success would bring Viv one step closer to healing her soul, and possibly implore a deity for a way home.

As she packed her things, the outlander realized that returning home was becoming a more abstract and distant goal. Nyil had become her new reality. It was pretty good despite the lack of internet and ice cream. She had met a lot of people who mattered to her, and Arthur was dependent on her presence for, well, something. The memory of her loved ones back home on earth was growing more distant. She remembered them more clearly now that her mind was helped by a healthy serving of magic, but the emotions associated with them had lost their edge. She had been gone for three months already. If they had found her body, they were probably getting over the grief by now.

It was a bit upsetting.

Nevertheless, she did not have to choose now whether to return or to stay. The priority was surviving high attunement and getting her soul fixed.

Viv fastened her back pack and brought it outside. She and Marruk made a first trip to the main square of Kazar and its temple where the convoy awaited.

The expedition was planned to take up to a month, which here lasted for twenty-eight days on average. The Param calendar was a mess anyway. They would try for a while and come back later if necessary. Or plain give up. She was not clear on that. It did not help that Lorn, the head of the Temple Guard, took a dim look on the expedition.

“A waste of fighting forces is all it is. We’re here to slay undead, not do business,” he had told his branch master when he thought Viv was not paying attention. Though, even a security expert could see the appeal of a new supply of iron, especially one discovered by its church.

As a project that was supposed to last a while, the expedition was pretty large. They had twenty guards including some of the most elite ones like Koro the ballsack-loving southerner, half again that many people as camp followers, and about ten horses. Viv had no idea if the guards could use them in combat. Horses were really expensive.

This also meant three carriages packed to the brim. Two would contain their baggage while the third one was the same armored chariot they had ridden to assault the beastling horde.

It took only twenty minutes for everyone to be ready, a credit to their organization. Then, they were on the way. Marruk and Viv sat inside the armored carriage as the caster was always supposed to be the most protected person. Viv prepared for another gruelling training session, but she was surprised when Marruk addressed her instead. There were only the two of them at the back of the cart. Farren had gone to walk with the helpers.

“I have questions. About your world without magic.”

Viv looked into the dark eyes of her bodyguard’s large, honest face. It was perhaps the first time that the stout woman had asked her something that was not directly related to their survival.

“Do tell.”

“There are no monsters.”

“No.”

“But there are humans.”

“Yes.”

“Are there Kark?”

“Hmm, no, as far as I know we never had anything other than flavors of humans.”

Better not tell her that one of the most probable causes of the extinction of Neanderthals was that the Sapiens happened to them.

“So, do you have steppes? Steppe people?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact we do!”

“Are they good at war? Can they defend themselves?”

“Oooh boy. Let me tell you about a man called Temujin.”

Viv went on a recounting of what she remembered of Genghis Khan. It was not much since she had never been a history nerd, but it was enough to take an hour. The army had encouraged the study of tactics and her memory was crystal clear. She focused on the Great Khan’s military prowesses on one hand, and his ruthlessness on the other. Marruk let her speak with no interruption for a long time. In the end, she was most intrigued by his ability to adopt new techniques.

“Can you explain siege warfare to me?”

“Well, you are outside and the foe is inside and behind walls…”

Viv explained earthworks, siege machines, rams and so on. Marruk noted that the absence of powerful magicians gave war a more regulated, technical dimension. She was the most curious about doctrines rather than the physics behind a trebuchet. After a few minutes spent on intelligence gathering, Viv used the lull in conversation to finally ask a question that had been on her mind since the morose Kark had finally started to unclam.

“So, can I ask why you are so interested?”

Marruk did not meet her eyes. She was staring over the reinforced wood of the carriage to the north east, the deadlands, and the steppes far beyond the mountainous passages.

“My people are dying. Slowly, but they are dying. Every year the Pure League destroys more land with their crops. Every year, more of their fields turn to dust and so they keep pushing. There are so few left of my tribe that we might as well be a clan now.”

“Is that why you left?”

Marruk’s tone turned surprisingly bitter. There was a lot of resentment buried deep beneath her stoic exterior, and it was not directed just at humans.

“I left because I was expected to do more of the same. The same shit we have been doing for centuries. I was expected to marry a chief and maybe have children who could become shamans like my mother, so a new generation of my family could fall to the Pure League’s assassins in the dead of night. I tried to talk to them. Push them. I even thought I was getting through to a chief’s son.”

“What happened?”

“He wanted me as a bride to affirm his claim. He only entertained my ‘delusions’ because he believed that it was a youthful excess. That I would become wiser after my first child was born. He said so himself.”

Ah. Oops.

“But the thing is, I did not know.”

She glanced up at Viv, this time, her gaze measuring.

“I did not know what we could do better. We have no iron, no magic academy to turn shamans into war mages. We are already fighting at our best with the tools we have and we are still losing. So I thought, maybe our mind must be changed? Maybe it’s not the arm that has failed us, but the head. I think I was right.”

“I see. You are looking for a strategy. Something like guerilla warfare?” Viv asked.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a technique through which an inferior force can inflict disproportionate damage through the use of ambushes, mobility, hit and run tactics, raids and so on.”

Marruk’s large face was suddenly quite close.

“I’m interested.”

It took an uneventful three days to reach the mountain tribe stronghold, then another two for them to ride farther and reach the limits of civilized lands. There were many mountain tribes dotting the escarpment of the Harrakan mountain ranges, but they concentrated around fertile patches of land where a population could be sustained. A traveler could spend a week walking without encountering anyone. Anyone alive in any case. The expedition was never attacked. Most monsters knew better than to engage so many foes, though that was merely a general rule.

As they approached their destination, the terraced fields grew few and far between, until they disappeared completely after the last settlement. Grey and brown replaced man-grown vegetation until the last vestiges of nature were shrubs and hardy growths that only goats could feed on, or whatever the local equivalent was. The guides they were offered were a pair of ‘walkers’ who knew their stuff, and it was not long until they stopped at the edge of a small cavern entrance. They made sure that the coast was clear and moved in.

They found a man-made warren of small rooms with some dry food and water in storage. There were some basic protection runes in place. The knights and followers unpacked their belongings as this was to be a base camp, with the civilians settling down more permanently. Farren and Lorn gathered the people who would go on into the wild around a small map.

“This is where the walkers think we could find something,” the captain said with a gruff voice, “three days travel from here. We will descend to the edge of the deadlands so that we can keep the carriage with us, otherwise the terrain will not allow it. Keep your black mana protection gear on you at all times and watch out for buried stuff. If we fail, there is another candidate a bit farther. We will go there and fall back to the main camp no matter what to resupply. Alright?”

Everyone gave a few nods. Viv retired early that night with Arthur coiled nearby. So far, everything had gone smoothly.

There was no way in hell that her luck would hold.