Eight: A LitRPG Novel of Magical Survival

My hands shook as I searched for the key to the children’s chains. I’d just fought for my life and come out of it with two people dead. Two people killed. By me.

“Come on, Ollie,” I muttered. “Keep it together.”

The key turned out to be on a necklace around Kaad’s neck. The children were wary of my approach. I couldn’t blame them—I was covered in blood and probably looked awful.

Billisha was nine or ten years old, with skin the color of tea, hazel eyes, and black hair that had been chopped short. The boy Aluali was about the same age and hid behind her, blank-faced. He was stockier, his face wider and his nose longer. Both looked ready to bolt.

“Biluu kuse pappashi zhileete.” Billisha’s voice was hoarse. She nudged Aluali behind her.

He closed his eyes, and gulped as he let go of Meliune’s Blessing. The fear and anxiety returned to his face, and he said, “Biluu kuse pappashi zhileete.” Once the words were out, though, he went blank-faced again.

Billisha offered her left arm to me. Her hands trembled. I noticed two thin parallel scars across the meat of her forearm. Aluali did the same, but his forearm had seven scars.

“Pappash zhilee ghathe denn.” Billisha paused to take a breath. “Denn denn sei sei.” She searched the ground and found a sharp-ish rock. When I realized she intended to use it to cut her forearm, I grabbed it out of her hand.

I spoke softly, as if calming a wounded animal. “I don’t need you to prove you’re human. I already know you bleed red. Now let me just get these chains off. It’s okay. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Once the chains were unlocked, I stepped back to give them space. There was a chance they’d run, so I kept up the soothing talk and waved them over to the first-aid kit. The children had abrasions and bruises from the chains, but apparently the injuries didn’t matter. Given permission to move, Billisha rushed to the fire to dig through Boscun’s pack for food. Well, I was hungry too, so I helped myself to some of the venison jerky she found.

What a sight we must’ve been—three children ravenously tearing into jerky beside the corpses of two men. Still, the food helped calm my shakes. The children’s too. They seemed more settled, although still afraid and uncertain. I caught Aluali peeking at me from behind Billisha.

“Ahoth,” Billisha said, and then came a bunch of words that ran together in my ears. The language was flowy, tending toward the softer vowels and consonants. There were exceptions though, and when those hard sounds came, they stood out like pillars.

I spoke a few words in English to show them again that I didn’t speak their language. The way they quirked their heads in confusion reminded me of a certain otter. The children spoke to each other softly, apparently trying to figure me out.

Billisha asked me a question, and frowned when I responded once more in English. Aluali made a suggestion, and she pointed to her neck and then at me. She mimed a collar and chain.

“Ah, no. I’m not an escaped slave.” I could see how she might’ve thought so, with me being on my own in the forest.

Aluali made another suggestion, and she mimed shooting an arrow.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m a hunter.” The children’s eyes went wide in surprise when I retrieved my gear from where it’d been hidden.

Billisha started to ask more questions, but I stopped her. We couldn’t stay here—eventually the bodies would draw scavengers, vultures, and who knew what else.

I left the kids by the fire in order to search the camp for anything that might be useful. The children went quiet as they watched. I felt the same watchfulness inside me, from the uekisheile. Fortunately, the lichen was patient and listened to my request to stay hidden.

Between them, Boscun and Kaad had:

• Two spears, one about seven feet long and the other nine feet.
• Two hunting knives, similar to the one carried by Woldec.
• Two stilettos. They resembled spikes more than knives, likely designed to penetrate the gaps between armor. These were the weapons Boscun and Kaad had used to fight each other.
• A war ax on a three-foot haft.
• A big sword, similar to a zweihander.
• Two sets of brigandine, one of which had a rent in the side.
• Two helmets. One had a half-face that closed to protect the mouth. The other was open, but had a nose guard.
• A warbow six feet long. I wasn’t nearly strong enough to string it, not even after enchanting my muscles with both qi and nature mana. If I had to guess, the draw was probably between 180 and 200 pounds. It was a monster.
• Two dozen arrows. Half of the arrowheads were designed for piercing armor. The other half were meant for unarmored flesh. All the shafts were thick and barreled near the fletching to handle the warbow’s force. They were far too heavy and too long for my bow, unfortunately.
• Miscellaneous camping gear, including blankets, bedrolls, pots, pans, and rope.
• Miscellaneous consumables, including food and the medicines in the first-aid kit. Heaven help me, I almost cried when I found a pouch of salt. There were also dried beans, peas, corn, salted meat, and venison jerky.
• A single small silver coin, which I’d found secreted away in a leather pouch strapped to Kaad’s left armpit. Whether the location had meaning or it was just his special hiding place, I had no idea.

Neither man had candlestones or firestarters. There was also a lack of quality to all their things. The weapons were nicked and pitted. The metal plates in the brigandine were iron instead of steel. The clothes were many-times patched. Even so, I wanted it all. Everything here could be useful.

I stacked what I wanted to bring with me near the children—the blankets, bedrolls, food, first-aid kit, rope, and camping gear. The rest I hid away from the camp. I’d come back to retrieve it later, once I’d cleared the Glen of the bishkawi. The children waited for me, whispering to each other.

Eventually, there was only one thing left to do—take Boscun and Kaad’s cores—but I worried about the children’s reaction. They hadn’t looked surprised when Kaad cut Boscun’s core from his body, so taking one from a dead person shouldn’t be unexpected behavior. I should just collect the cores, and if the children recoil, then I’ll know I stumbled on a taboo.

I drew my hunting knife and made a hand-long incision in Kaad’s chest. The body was still warm. My fingers wriggled around inside until… okay, there it was. I drew the core out, a marble smaller than Boscun’s, which still lay by the fire.

I snuck a peek at the kids, and they watched me intently. After a moment’s hesitation, Billisha knelt. Aluali was slow to follow, so she tugged on his shirt to get his attention. When he saw what she was doing, he quickly knelt down too. They both put their hands over their hearts and bowed their heads. Their actions smelled of ritual, of ceremony.

“Ahoth,” they said together. “Biluu diakashen den wiloo et biliase dendeneise.” Then they waited for me.

I guessed at what came next and cracked the cores. Neither of the kids flinched. If anything, they looked relieved. Ah, so they know there’s a choice between taking the whole core or just the silverlight.

I absorbed Kaad’s silverlight first.

I thanked the uekisheile for honoring our agreement and not being greedy.

Next, I picked up Boscun’s silverlight from beside the fire. The grains were clumped together, each the size of a pea, and seemed to be slightly denser than any of the others I’d found.

I hadn’t felt much after Kaad’s silverlight—just a wisp of frustration—but with Boscun’s, there was a feeling of weathering a storm, of being lashed by the elements and pushing ahead, a step at a time. There was hope for something in the distance, as well as a desire to protect something behind.

The feeling made an impression on the uekisheile too. They broke their usual pattern of speech to emphasize each segment of the thought bundle. Rich-bitter. Strong-stubborn. Delicious-not/delicious.

I acknowledged the uekisheile’s observation as the echoes of Boscun’s lonely struggle reverberated through me. Neither of the two men had lived easily or well.

“Rest now,” I said to them. “Lay down your spite and your rage. They will not serve you. Lay down your spite and your rage. They will only weigh you down. A third time I say unto you, lay down your spite and your rage. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”

I couldn’t remember the words exactly as my grandmother had taught them—just how often does a person have to worry about angry spirits? But they were close enough. The important thing was the repetition of the entreaty. She had always said, “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is intention.”

The children appeared confused by my actions. While breaking the cores had been familiar, they seemed to expect more from me afterward. Likely there are things related to their funeral practices I’m not doing, but I have no idea what they could be. And I’d rather not stick around to find out either.

When I stood up, they hurriedly chanted, “Biluu diakashen den billu wildwae denseise sendwatei.”

Billisha asked, “Dilwei?” She pointed to the fire. “Dilwei?”

“Dilwei,” I said, pointing to the fire.

“De, de,” she said, nodding. “Dilwei.” Then she mimed picking up the fire and placing it on the bodies. “Menesei dwesane te dilwei awrawarua de.”

Do they cremate their dead? That’d make sense in a world where the undead are a thing.

I shook my head and made the gestures Ikfael invented to describe the sun traveling across the sky and for hiking through the woods. I figured we’d use her signs as a common language, since the kids were likely to meet her at some point.

Billisha, startled, said, “De!” She repeated my gestures and then added the ones for ‘hurry’ and ‘question.’

But how did she—

A notification popped up for three new skills. Diaksh was the name of the language being used, and there was a signed version. No wonder Ikfael’s so good at coming up with signs. This whole time, she’s been using a preexisting language.

Billisha, meanwhile, clearly struggled to remember the signs she’d been taught as she tried to describe what had happened to her and Aluali. Unfortunately, I only recognized a few: hunt, fight, kill, run, transport, and barter. It was enough, though, to learn that their families were gone, and they’d traveled far away from home.

Partway through, she began to cry, which triggered tears from Aluali. In moments, I had two sobbing children. They’d been brave for so long. It was only natural they’d cry once the pressure was off.

I wanted to give them space to grieve, but time was short. I waited as long as I could, but eventually I had to shush them. With a soft voice and gestures, I encouraged them to follow me.

I put the helmets on their heads and asked them to carry the blankets and bedrolls. They sniffled while they waited for me to pack up the rest of the gear I was taking. I also made sure the weapons and armor were well-hidden.

Once we left camp, the children went silent. Someone, somewhere had taught them how to move through the woods. Thankfully, the rest of the trek was short and uneventful.

The view from the top of the escarpment was magnificent. A few billowy clouds lingered in the sky, their shadows slowly sailing across the land below them. The children’s jaws dropped appropriately. That amazement turned into horror when I showed them the narrow path down to the lion’s cave. I understood their fear, but it’d be the safest place for them until the Glen was free of bishkawi.

Billisha said something, which sounded a lot like, “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

The kids looked at each and gulped. Aluali said something, to which Billisha shrugged. Then she said something, and it was Aluali’s turn to shrug.

Billisha said, “Meliune.” And both children went blank-faced. They turned to me like automatons and waited. All their emotions and all their humanity disappeared with a flip of the blessing’s switch. It was more than a little creepy.

How much practice was needed to be able to do that? Was it because they’d been enslaved, or were all children trained to use Meliune’s Blessing to overcome their fear? I could see how it’d be useful in crisis situations, the equivalent of earthquake drills or shelter-in-place.

I wasn’t willing to risk them walking down the path carrying anything, so I had them put down their burdens. I’d come back to get the stuff myself once they were safely below.

Neither Billisha nor Aluali hesitated in hiking down the narrow path. When they saw the lion’s carcass, however, the children immediately tried to bolt, but I’d enchanted my body in preparation and grabbed them. I dragged them over to the carcass and kicked it. Then, when they saw it was dead, skinned, and gutted, they flopped down on the ground, relieved.

Meliune’s Blessing lifted like a theater curtain. Immediately the children began chatting with each other.

“Oh my god. That was so scary! I thought it was a live chliapp lion, and it was going to eat us.”

“I know, right? Too scary. What’s this crazy boy doing dragging us to places like this, where lions live. Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we should run away when he’s not looking.”

“Wait, why is it skinned and gutted? You don’t think he did that, do you? He killed a lion and Boscun and Kaad? You don’t think he has a path, do you? That he’s—gulp—Level 1.”

Obviously, the children didn’t say any of those things. Their conversation sure did sound like it, though, and I recognized the names of the slavers, as well as the lion.

I waved a hand to get their attention and told them to wait while I retrieved the gear from the top of the escarpment. It took several trips, but I also used the opportunity to collect firewood. Having a proper ax—even if it wasn’t meant for trees—made it so easy.

I brought enough wood down to last through the night. I also gave each child a knife and an ax, and entrusted the firestarter to Billisha. Her eyes went wide when I put it into her hands.

“I go,” I gestured. “Safe here. Water there. Eat lion. I return at night.”

The kids were scared and confused. I’d saved them, yet now I was leaving. I reassured them of my return, but the skepticism on their faces was obvious. Halfway through my attempted explanation, Aluali invoked Meliune’s Blessing. He sat in the corner to wait, leaving Billisha to deal with me.

Her hands trembled, her signs awkward. “You danger go? Us danger here? When you return? How many hours?” She shook her head. “No. Not go. Danger bad. Safe good.”

“Safe good,” I gestured, “but—” I paused. There wasn’t a sign for ‘friend’ that I knew. I pointed to Aluali and her, bringing the two hands together. Then I pointed to myself and Ikfael’s waterfall, doing my best to communicate that someone close to me was there. “I go make safe.”

To that, Billisha didn’t have a response. She just quietly nodded, and signed, “Yes.” Then she sat next to Aluali and went blank-faced.

“I return,” I signed, but she didn’t respond. The two of them were staring into space. They look like mannequins— The thought cut off when Billisha’s hand snuck over to hold Aluali’s. But maybe… maybe they’ll be okay.