Everything is worth kill.., p.1
Everything is Worth Killing: A LitRPG Series (Second Edition), page 1
CHAPTER 1 – Tied Shoe
I’m pretty certain it was a Tuesday when I woke up in a strange land.
Or maybe it could have been a Wednesday.
Truth be told, I was spending a little too much time in a state that some describe as ‘drunk as hell’ back then. It was just after Dad died, and for the first time in my nineteen years on this earth, I was completely alone.
The few days after Dad passed, I just kept replaying the last thing he said to me.
“It’s just you now, Isaac,” he said, while I held his hand in the hospice. “Gonna have to be strong. Look after yourself. And promise me something.”
“Anything,” I said.
“Start rinsing plates before you put them in the dishwasher. Otherwise it…it…clogs the filter.”
That was Dad for you. Practical until the end. With him gone, it was me, myself and I. Mom died when I was five. No siblings, no cousins. A weird uncle who lived in Nova Scotia, but we hadn’t heard from him in ages.
I didn’t plan on spending the next few days in bars and stuff. It just sorta happened. I don’t know. Maybe I was lonely. I had this vague idea that I’d pull myself together soon – I owed it to Dad – but I just needed a few days to process my grief by drinking a crap ton of whiskey.
I was leaving one of the aforementioned bars to make the twenty-minute walk home, when I did something stupid. Something really, really bad.
I tied my shoelace.
The reason this was so bad was that after tying my shoelace, I checked the road and then crossed it. Halfway across, a car barreled through the red light and plowed into me. If I hadn’t tied my lace, I would already have been across the road. Oh, fate, you fickle son of a bitch.
As it was, the car slammed into me and everything instantly went black. When I woke, things were…a little bit different.
You know, come to think of it, it could have been a Friday.
CHAPTER 2 – Tied Up
No matter what day of the week it happened, it was nighttime and it was cool. All around me was the kind of wilderness where gold prospectors lose their fortunes and then their minds. A desolate place where a man could shout his lungs out and get nothing but a coyote howl in return. A fire was dying nearby, wood chips winking red.
So, where was I?
Can’t spot anything around. Any electricity pylons in the distance? Following those would be a way to hit civilization. Nope.
Movement caught my eye. Figures in the darkness.
Panic hit me, a kind I’d never felt before. Not your damn-I’m-gonna-miss-the-bus kind. It was panic’s purest form, and it stole my breath.
A dozen people were snoozing on the ground across from the fire, covered by different colored furs.
Fear misted over my mind. It took me a minute to pull myself together, and I only accomplished that by saying “Hey, asshole, pull yourself together.”
When I was thinking clearly again, I understood a few things.
The ropes were important. Someone had tied me up, which was usually a bad sign. But the bindings were loose enough that they didn’t hurt. Most kidnappers wouldn’t sweat that.
I realized something else. Maybe they weren’t the problem. Maybe I was a threat to them.
So why was nobody guarding me?
Could I get free?
Here came my first lesson about optimism in this world.
Don’t have any.
I’d get the same lesson plenty of times in the following months.
“Gutuk ma la tye,” said a voice.
My guard was a teenager, bald as a newborn babe. A forehead so craggy you could climb it, with a weird green circle sitting bullseye in the middle. A lime green robe covering pond-colored skin. He was wiry enough to hang a shirt on. I’d say I had never seen anyone like him, but I’m not one to judge. I thought I could take him. If my hands weren’t tied.
His wide eyes made him seem an easy fool. His hands were on his lap and his legs were crossed. Curious vibes, rather than hostile.
“Agmame?”
What language was that? Scandinavian?
“Sorry?”
“Agmame?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Swedish. I took German classes in school.”
He pointed at his chest. “Ma agmame Kaleb.”
I pointed at him. “Kaleb?”
He smiled, flashing bone-white teeth. “Kaleb, yap!”
So, ‘agmame’ means name.
A gust of arctic wind slapped me, a reminder I was only wearing a thin shirt and trousers.
“Caild?” said Kaleb.
“Sorry?”
He pretended to shiver. “Caild?”
“Caild. Yap,” I said, happy I’d remembered the word for yes.
Kaleb walked to the fire. Using a log, he stirred the fiery soup of glowing embers until they burned brighter and hotter.
Holding a log thicker than his arm, he performed a series of movements. Like a yoga routine. Light leaked from a medallion around his neck, illuminating the green circle on his forehead. Soon, his palm glowed red.
“Hrr-festroi.”
Nothing happened, and his forehead creased. He shook his medallion the way a guy would shake his faulty TV remote. Whatever he was trying to do, he was pissed it wasn’t working.
“Hrr-festroi,” he repeated.
The wood crumbled into pieces. The fire gobbled Kaleb’s new kindling like a hungry pig.
Woah! The log had been thicker than his arm, and he’d shattered it with a word! What the hell had I just seen?
The glow of rising flames revealed his forehead circle in better detail. It was gouged deep rather than tattooed. Looked to me someone had cut his skin in a moon shape, then let it scar.
A man stirred across from Kaleb and me. He cast his fur blanket aside, getting to his feet.
This guy was like a tree. Strong arms and a thick torso that storm winds would struggle against. He had maybe thirty years on Kaleb. He complemented his baldness with a thicket of green beard, and his pointy ears were torn in places.
He put on a robe. The fire glowed on his face, showing a golden circle on his forehead.
“Kaleb,” he said. “Ya si vatch?”
“Na,” answered Kaleb.
The man shouted and pointed his finger. I didn’t know their language, but I guessed. “I keep telling you to do things, and you never get it right.”
Kaleb’s expression said he’d been chewed out hundreds of times. It said, “I do my best, but it’s never enough.” Hard not to feel for him.
Finished with Kaleb, the man glared at me. He didn’t seem friendly. Not outright hostile, but I got wary vibes. This guy was in charge, and he’d decide what happened to me.
I needed to win him over, but it was risky. One word he didn’t like, and he could fry me. I took a chance.
“Agmame?” I asked.
Kaleb’s gaze was glued to me. Other mages were staring like I’d questioned his mother’s honor. Had I just offended this guy?
And there it was.
A flicker of a grin. Not much, but the corner of his eyes lifted.
“Ma agmame Pendras,” he said.
“Pendras,” I said. “Kaleb and Pendras.”
He stared at me expectantly, but what else could I say? I was hardly a sparkling conversationalist. When I couldn’t offer anything else, Pendras turned away. Kneeling beside his discarded furs, he rummaged through a leather bag.
At least he hadn’t ordered the other dudes to kill me. I felt safer. As safe as a guy could be in my situation.
I turned to Kaleb. “How did you do that with the fire and the log?”
“Ques?”
I mimicked snapping the log. “Magic?”
“Ah, yap.” He pointed to the gouge on his forehead. Then he gestured at my head. “Szee?” He kept pointing.
A chill teased up my spine.
Holding my breath, I touched my forehead, feeling a shape gouged into it.
Had Kaleb and Pendras mutilated me?
If they had, the deed was done. If I lost my cool they would lash out, and I was outnumbered. Better to stay calm. Win their trust, and find a way to escape.
How could I get their confidence? Only one way, as I saw it.
It came to me then. My name.
“Pendras?” I said.
He faced me.
Hope I say this right…
I pointed at my chest. “Agmame Isaac.”
The other mages laughed, but not at me. I think my attempt at their language amused them.
“E’ agmame Isaac,” said one, grinning and nudging the mage beside him.
Kaleb patted my shoulder. “Welvorca, Isaac.”
“Welvorca, Isaac!” cheered a few others.
That seemed to do it, and I let myself relax a little. It wasn’t long before a cup of beer and a wooden plate of meat were passed to me. The meat smelled like heaven, and my mood started to float.
But if I could visit my past self, I’d tell him to enjoy the moment. Because as confusing as everything was, I wouldn’t see safety like that again for a long time.
CHAPTER 3 – Last Chance
The next morning shaped everything that was to come.
Could I have acted better? Sure. Hindsight’s easy. Foresight is trickier, and I’d never met a man who had it. Until I got here. Things are differen t here.
On my first morning, I had one thing on my mind.
Escape.
To do that without getting killed, I needed to know more.
I observed the clan better in daylight. Green skin. Every green you could think of. Dark pond-water, minty hues, bitter olive. Most men wore beards, showing their flair with different shapes and oiled mustache tips. Line the guys in a row and the wind would huff half of them down. The women were built for hard work.
“Isaac!”
Pendras beckoned from across camp, his eyes spheres of blue stolen from the sky.
“Caim hoore, Isaac,” he said.
The sunlight mocked the mages as it glinted off their bald heads. They watched me, squinting. You could have heard an ant cough. The distance, grey like shark skin, never looked so inviting.
I straightened my shoulders and walked like a guy who didn’t have a care. My brain was shouting to me to run because this wasn’t good. Damned if I’d show it.
Pendras pointed at a dead rat on the ground, its neck snapped.
“Hrr-chare.”
Whatever spell that meant, the rat was its recipient.
“Hrr-chare,” he said again.
At first, I thought Pendras was struggling to cast his spell. A spot of magic dysfunction. I thought better of mentioning it. A guy can get sensitive.
“Isaac,” he said. “Hrr-chare.”
I should have known better.
Pendras wouldn’t have struggled to cast anything. The hrr command was for me.
He poked my chest.
“Hrr-chare,” he growled.
This wasn’t a request, but an expectation.
Chare could mean to resurrect it. It might mean to burn it. Chare sounded like char. Maybe their language developed from English, and certain words were similar.
“Isaac,” growled Pendras. “Hrr-chare.”
Maybe I could try? My forehead was marked, after all. I had to do something.
Pointing at the rat, I pictured a spell trembling in my palm. I didn’t know what that should feel like, but I imagined sunlight under my skin. Magic would build in me, getting stronger and stronger until the only thing left was…
“Hrr-chare!” I shouted, waving my arms theatrically.
Nothing happened.
Some of the mages tittered. Kaleb groaned and shook his head.
Pendras pointed behind me. “Gae!”
There was nothing behind but a sea of weeds and dirt.
“Gae!” he repeated.
Nobody met my gaze. One by one, they walked off. Kaleb and two young mages grabbed the bison reins, tied them to the cart. They trotted onwards.
Pendras led the mages away. I hurried on to Kaleb.
“Kaleb!”
He wouldn’t look at me.
Pendras turned around. “Isaac, gae!”
I got the feeling I wasn’t wanted.
I was a stranger in a land built to swallow me. No money, no weapons, no friends. These guys represented safety. The lonely distance threatened misery and misfortune.
There was something I could try. The last time I’d used their language it had won Pendras over.
“Isaac na gae,” I said, pleased I’d remembered words.
Pendras raised his hands above his head. “Hrr-chare!”
A ball of roaring flames smashed into the ground near my feet. It charred the weeds and the muck.
Pendras hadn’t missed. This was a firm but polite warning. His way of saying “Isaac, I’d love to have you around, but this is where we part ways. All the best for the future. I want you to know that I think you’re a great guy.”
I focused on the rat. For the first time, a dead rat represented my salvation.
“Hrr-chare,” I said.
Nothing happened.
I pointed my finger. “Hrr-chare.”
Nothing.
I rubbed the circular gouge on my forehead. The way you do when you massage dead batteries back to life.
“Hrr-chare!”
The rat stubbornly refused to set alight.
“Hrr chare,” I said. “Chare, chare, chare!”
The rat wasn’t going to set alight, and the mages were walking away. Soon they’d be out of sight. I’d be alone with the wind and my thoughts and the rat with its snapped neck.
I could try joining them, but Pendras wouldn’t miss next time. I was going to have to find someone else. I couldn’t be the only person here.
Then I saw something.
Yellow road markings. Hidden by weeds and dust, uncovered by a ball of flames.
If I followed the road, I’d have to hit civilization. Every road leads somewhere.
First, I needed water. I started to walk toward the stream, when I heard a voice.
“Isaac!”
“Kaleb?”
He sprinted to me. The distance was short, but he was doubled over. His deep, chesty wheezes worried me. I patted his back, feeling his bony spine.
“You okay?”
He opened his robe to reveal a fault line scar across his chest. “Kaff. Ner, ner kaff.”
“Kaff?” I said, mimicking coughing.
Kaleb pretended to vomit. “Na. Kaff.”
“You’re sick. Kaleb kaff.”
He nodded grimly. “Yap.”
“Then you better join the others. But thanks for saying bye to me.”
“Ques?”
I pointed. The group hadn’t stopped for Kaleb. “Pendras. Others. Gae.”
“Yap,” said Kaleb.
“Kaaaaaaleb!” boomed a voice. It was Pendras.
“Luck, Isaac,” Kaleb said.
At first, I thought nothing of it.
Then it registered.
Luck.
It was the first English word I’d heard. A glorious one, because it meant English existed.
“Kaaaaleb!” shouted Pendras.
“Gae, Kaleb,” I told him. “Thank you.”
He arched an eyebrow. Maybe he didn’t know what thank you meant.
“Friend?” he said.
Why not? I didn’t have many buddies around here. “Friend,” I answered.
As Kaleb joined the others, I regretted him going. He’d been a friendly face, and I needed them right now. I’d miss him.
Soon the group was out of sight. I’d started the day desperate to escape, and ended it wishing I was part of their group. Nothing to do now but find a place to stay.
I sat down and thought about my options. That was when I realized that Kaleb hadn’t just come to say goodbye. He’d left something for me.
CHAPTER 4 – No Place Like Home
“Next time I see Pendras,” I told myself, “I’ll hrr-chare his ass.”
But the next time I saw Pendras, killing him would be the last thing on my mind. There wouldn’t be time.
Back then, however, I was mad. Mostly at myself. He was the leader of a mage clan who knew this place and used magic. I was a stranger who couldn’t knock a fly off balance. It was his duty to only keep useful people around.
I was going to die out here if I didn’t get moving. I’d either freeze or starve, and neither appealed. I had to support myself.
I opened the tatty bag that Kaleb had risked Pendras’s anger to leave. As I took out the things, words formed in the air.
Items Received:
Book
Medallion
They were written in block text. When I reached out to touch them, they dispersed.
This was strange, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing I had seen since getting to this place. Meeting a bunch of mages had leeched the surprise from my brain.
The medallion was similar to the ones the mages wore. Dull bronze in color and scratched to hell, but it was mine now. I put it around my neck.
The book looked like it had been read a thousand times, passed from person to person until it was torn and some of the ink was smudged. The title read Hrr-Chare: Un gata fur Novicien. Inside were pages of foreign language, broken by the odd diagrams.
A raindrop plopped onto the book. Another onto my head. Time to find shelter. I put the book in the bag. As I reached into it, the weirdest thing happened.
My hand went way further inside the bag than it should have been able to. A few feet deeper than the actual size of it!
Setting off, the first thing I did was visit the stream and drink until my stomach bulged. I washed the dirt from my face and my hair. I just wished I had something to put water in.
Before I left, I saw a berry bush nestled amongst a thicket of wild shrubs. My stomach ached but as hungry as I was, I wouldn’t appreciate getting poisoned.
