Book 2: Chapter 16: Plague

Book 2: Chapter 16: Plague

Standing before the Norcastle main gate, Sam Harvin shifted uncomfortably as he tried to adjust his armor. It was a new addition, and he still hadn’t grown accustomed to wearing it. But according to his captain, it was strong enough to stand up to Voxxian claws and teeth, so Sam was more than willing to endure a little discomfort.

“Quit fidgeting,” said his partner, Lorelai. She was a middle-aged woman with grey-streaked, black hair, and she reminded him of nothing so much as a middle school teacher. Not surprising, considering that it really hadn’t been that long ago since he’d been in one of those classrooms. “Nobody’s going to take you seriously if you keep messing with your armor. And look alive. We have a job to do, in case you forgot.”

He rolled his eyes, saying, “I know.”

“You say that, but the fact that I have to keep reminding you to pay attention tells me that you don’t really take this seriously. We’re the first line of defense if we see another attack.”

“I know,” he groaned. Indeed, that had been hammered into him during the six weeks of training he’d endured after awakening his archetype. Not for the first time, he wished he’d chosen one of the non-combat options, but he’d been too enamored with the idea of becoming a powerful warrior that he’d never even considered anything but becoming a Warrior, and then, upon reaching level ten, the Guard class.

He'd regretted it ever since. Sure, he was stronger, faster, and more durable than he’d ever been, but his levels had lagged behind his peers’ who’d chosen non-combat archetypes. For instance, his older sister’s friend, Jess, had been offered a Healer archetype, which she’d parlayed into a powerful variant class called Light Keeper. Since then, her levels had shot up – but then again, that was true of all the town’s Healers.

“You’re doing it again,” cautioned Lorelai, jerking him back to attention. “Pay attention, or I’m going to recommend you for punishment duty.”

“I was paying attention,” he lied. The problem was that, while he knew the wilderness was dangerous, he didn’t have the first-hand experience with it that most of the town’s citizens did. After the world had been transformed, he, his sister, and his mother had taken shelter in the local church. So, while others were fighting for their lives against suddenly mutated animals or monstrous creatures from some other reality, he’d been safe and sound in the ancient castle-turned-cathedral.

Then, over the following couple of years, that church had become the centerpiece of what would become Norcastle. So, unlike most of the others, he’d never had to deal with the dangers the new world represented. Sure, like everyone else, he knew what was out there. But knowing and experiencing were two different things, and Sam’s first real brush with true danger had only occurred after he’d chosen his archetype and set himself down the path to becoming a Guard.

That hadn’t ended well – he’d struggled to even hold his ground during the curated hunting expeditions the city’s defense force used to train combatants – and he’d been regretting his choices ever since.

A slap on the back of his head once again brought him back to reality. He was about to say something to Lorelai that he would no doubt regret when he caught sight of something moving near the tree line. He squinted, using Enhanced Sight to zoom in on the anomaly, and asked, “Is that a person?”

Lorelai, who’d been glaring at him, followed his line of sight and focused in on the person striding out of the forest. “I think it is,” she said. “Is it one of the gatherers? Or a hunter?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said, tightening his grip on his spear. Outsiders weren’t completely unheard-of. There were a few small settlements in the region, and Norcastle had even played host to an emissary from another city a few hundred miles away. However, almost no one was stupid enough to traipse around the wilderness alone. “You don’t recognize him, do you?”

Lorelai said that she didn’t, which worried Sam. She was annoying and a bit of a hard-ass, but Lorelai was very good at her job. And she had a great memory, especially when it came to people. Sam would have been surprised if she hadn’t memorized the faces of every single hunter or gatherer who’d left the city during her shift.

Soon enough, the figure came close enough that Sam recognized him as a short, sandy-haired man wearing curiously anachronistic clothing and carrying a staff. But there was something about the way he carried himself that put Sam on edge. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was bothering him until Lorelai said, “He’s completely relaxed.”

People didn’t exactly avoid the wilderness. Plenty of locals still ventured outside the city’s walls, and with some degree of regularity. However, when they did so, it was with significant caution. Sam had learned to recognize it. Shifting eyes. Tense shoulders. Careful steps. Everyone who left Norcastle knew that they were walking into danger.

But this man? He was completely at ease.

As he drew closer, Sam took in more details. He had a beard, though it looked like it had been inexpertly hacked short. His blonde hair was curly, and had grown over his ears. And his complexion was fair, but with just enough tint to suggest that he spent most of his life outdoors. He wore a large pack on his back, and his wooden staff looked more like a series of twisted roots than a straight shaft.

“He’s not wearing shoes,” said Lorelai.

Sam glanced at the man’s feet, and sure enough, his pants ended just above his ankles. Below that was nothing but bare skin.

“Weird.”

“Very.”

The man finally got close enough that Sam could use Inspect, which was one of his Guard skills:

Name: Elijah Hart

Archetype: Healer

Level: 19

“A healer?” Sam muttered. “By himself?”

“That name sounds vaguely familiar,” Lorelai remarked.

“You think he’s from around here?”

“No,” she said. “Maybe he passed through, though. Look alive. He’s almost here.”

According to the guides he’d bought from the Branch, anyone with the Guard class had the ability to discern someone’s identity, including level and archetype. So, if anyone was going to see through his Ring of Anonymity, then the pair at the gate would have. That they hadn’t was just further confirmation that the item was the real deal.

Though he did belatedly remember that, while toying with the ring, he’d changed his surname back to his real name. Hopefully, that hadn’t raised any flags, but in the interest of not taking any further chances, Elijah changed it back to Smith.

Once that was done, he took another deep breath, then straightened back to his full height and looked around. The city was much larger than he’d initially suspected, and it sprawled for quite some distance in every direction. In addition, it seemed to have a population to match its size, and even so close to the gate, Elijah saw more than a few pedestrians.

He also saw carts carrying dozens of corpses, each wrapped in white cloth. The passersby gave the wagons a wide berth, but Elijah couldn’t fail to notice the furtive glances they cast toward each passing cart.

Otherwise, the city looked much as he’d seen from afar. Which was to say that most of the buildings were clearly newly constructed. For a moment, Elijah considered trying to find a hotel in which to stay the night. Or maybe a restaurant. However, the sight of the bodies had reminded him that Norcastle had a deadly crisis on their hands, and there was a good chance that he could help.

So, with that in mind, he strode down the street. Fortunately, it hadn’t rained in some time, so the dirt streets were dry. He didn’t usually mind walking around barefoot – after two years, he was used to it – but if the streets had been muddy, he might’ve changed his tune. In any case, he got quite a few curious glances as he followed the guard’s directions to a large, three-story building near the center of the city.

The moment he caught sight of it, he knew he’d reached the hospital. Part of that certainty was due to the big, red cross decorating a sign out front, but the steadily moving line of sick people gave it away as well.

He advanced, stepping across the street and nimbly avoiding the passing hand-pulled carts – most of these bearing mundane goods instead of bodies – and pedestrians along the way. Soon enough, he found himself approaching the building’s main entrance, where another pair of guards stood. Both wore makeshift masks over their haggard faces.

“Stop right there, buddy,” one of them said. She was actually taller than Elijah, which wasn’t terribly uncommon. He’d never been a big man, after all. “Back of the line.”

Elijah continued forward, saying, “The Guard at the gate told me to come here. I’m a –”

The other Guard, who was a square-jawed man wearing a spiteful expression, hefted his cudgel and swung it at Elijah. He didn’t hesitate and parried the attack with his staff. Before the Guard could react, Elijah had turned the parry into a low swing that ended with the Guard’s legs being swept out from under him. It happened in the space of an instant; Elijah hadn’t even meant to react, but his instincts, earned after spending years in the wild, had won out.

Seeing the other Guard preparing to attack, Elijah shoved his staff under her chin and said, “I’m not in the habit of letting people attack me. So, please – let’s just leave this here, okay? I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

By that point, the fallen Guard had scrambled to his feet. His face was red from clear embarrassment, and he spat, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yeah. I took it easy on you. Now, before you two do something stupid, let me explain what’s going on. I’m a Healer. I was told to come here and help out. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I’ll go on my way. But judging by everything I’ve seen so far, you could definitely use my help.”

“Wait – you’re a healer?” the female Guard said. Then, her eyes briefly unfocused – a sign that Elijah took as her using an ability, probably the one meant to identify him. The other one didn’t have the presence of mind to even do that much. Instead, he looked like he was half a step away from attacking Elijah again. “You are. And only nineteen? How did you put Garret down like that?”

“I know kung fu.”

“Wait, what?”

“Kung fu. Martial arts. I’m a black belt.”

“You are?”

“Sure. My hands are deadly weapons,” Elijah said. “My feet too, but nobody ever asks about those.”

She glanced down at his bare feet and muttered, “Huh?”

“Screw this guy, Holly. We don’t have to –”

Holly rolled her eyes and said, “Shut up, Garret.”

“You’re not my boss!” he growled.

“He’s a healer, idiot. We need as many of those as we can get. Now, shut up. Or I’m going to shut you up. Got it?” Holly said. Garret clamped his mouth shut. He clearly didn’t like it, but Holly just as clearly didn’t care. To Elijah, she asked, “Are you really a black belt?”

“God, no. But I can handle myself okay,” he replied with a grin that he hoped was disarming. From experience, he recognized that probably came off as a bit cocky. Or maybe deranged, given his lack of social contact over the past couple of years. “Anyway, is it alright if I go on in? And who do I talk to about what the situation is? I think we can maybe knock this plague thing out in an afternoon.”

She cocked her head to the side and said, “At level nineteen? Color me skeptical. But you’re more than welcome to give it a try. God knows we could use the help.”

Then, she gave him directions on how to find Jess, the other Healer on duty. Elijah thanked her for her help, gave Garret a grin, then headed inside. The building was large, but it didn’t have many twists or turns, so he quickly found his way to the appropriate room – which was a huge, gymnasium-size space containing at least a hundred of occupied beds. Elijah only got one step inside before a familiar smell wafted into his nose.

“Voxx,” he muttered to himself as he realized that he might’ve just stepped into a situation he couldn’t handle.