13-15. First Contact
“Are you certain they’re peaceful?” asked Benedict, his eyes flicking back and forth between the city in the distance and the terrain they’d just covered. Elijah was familiar enough with his companion that he could predict his thoughts. And he was obviously wondering if it was better to simply forego making contact with the natives.
Elijah had already walked similar ground, and though he had no guarantees that they would be welcomed, he felt pretty sure that, if push came to shove, he could escape.
Of course, he also had a well-worn streak of miscalculation when it came to that kind of thing. More than once, he’d overestimated his own abilities and paid the price. He’d lived through each instance, but that didn’t mean his good fortune would continue.
“Not at all,” he admitted. “But if you can think of a better way to get off this planet, then I’m all ears.”
“I don’t do well with meeting new people.”
“That’s not a secret, Benedict,” Elijah countered. The man was a ball of nerves even in the best of times, and though he tried to hide it, his discomfort in social situations was blatantly obvious.
It was one of the reasons Elijah had hesitated to bring Benedict along at all, though the other man had insisted.
Elijah understood that, too. Even for an antisocial loner like Benedict, the prospect of living out the rest of his days with only Elijah for company probably sounded like a special kind of hell. They tolerated one another, but just as Benedict rubbed Elijah the wrong way, the same was true from the Warlock’s perspective.
Short bursts of companionship were fine, but anything long-term tended to bring out the worst in both of them.
So, even if the natives turned out to be murderous psychopaths, they both considered the chance of something better to be worth the risk of revealing themselves. On top of that, Elijah still held out hope that they might offer some insight into how to free themselves from the planet’s grip.
It was thin. Very, very thin. If they knew how to escape, they probably would have done so. Yet, there was also the possibility that they knew how, but simply lacked the means.
That, combined with the prospect of satisfying their need for social connection, was the reason Elijah had returned. And Benedict had similar reasons for accompanying him.
And none of those reasons had changed.
“You can stay behind,” Elijah suggested. “I can test things out, and once I verify that they’re peaceful, I’ll come get you.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not really,” he breathed. “But I don’t want to be stuck in that tent for another day. Not alone and wondering if you’re ever coming back.”
Elijah could understand that feeling as well. For a man like Benedict, being entirely dependent on someone else was torturous. In that respect, they were very similar. If their positions had been flipped, Elijah would have gone insane with worry and frustration. With that in mind, he resolved to cut his companion a little bit of slack.
“Well, no better time than now,” Elijah said, pushing himself to his feet. He looked down at his torn and tattered clothes, then glanced at Benedict’s similarly destroyed attire. “Not going to make the best impression, are we?”
“I don’t have any other clothes.”
“Me neither.”
Elijah shrugged. “Well, at least we’re clean,” he remarked. “You’re close to full strength, right?”
Benedict nodded. His soul was completely mended, so if pushed to let loose the full breadth of his power, he could do quite a lot of damage. Elijah had long since recovered to full health, and with the solace provided by the evolved tent, he actually felt better than he had since entering the Labyrinth of Dead Gods.
Except for the constant pain that came from the clash between his Mantle of Authority and the corrupted atmosphere of the excised planet. But by this point, he’d pushed that so far into the background that he scarcely even noticed it.
“Be ready,” Elijah said, stepping forward. Benedict followed as he added, “And don’t stare.”
“I know how to conduct myself.”
“Good.”
With that, they strode forward and into the open. So far, they’d remained mostly concealed behind a low ridge, but now, they were in full view. It didn’t take long for the farmers to notice their approach.
A few shouted something unintelligible before racing toward the low wall surrounding the city. Others simply stared, their muscles tensing as they tightened their grips on their tools. But fortunately, no one attacked. Elijah took that as a good sign.
“What is wrong with them?” Benedict asked well before they passed within earshot of the farmers.
“I don’t know. There are consequences to living in corruption, I guess,” Elijah said, rightly guessing that Benedict wanted to know about the mutations and deformities afflicting the natives. “Don’t stare.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“I’m not.”
“And don’t mention it, either. I don’t think they speak English, but there’s no telling what they might understand.”
Benedict nodded, and the two continued their approach in silence. As they reached the fields, the farmers backed away. Elijah kept his Mantle of Authority close, not wanting to alarm them further.
As far as he could tell, none of them had achieved the ability to impose their will on the environment.
Meanwhile, a group of soldiers, each one clad in the now-familiar black armor, exited through the city’s main gate. They trotted toward Elijah and Benedict, unhurried but not tarrying, either. When they came close, Elijah could feel their power roiling with uncast spells and abilities. One wrong move, and they would erupt into action.
Similarly, Benedict remained on the verge of activating his own abilities. His already-summoned ritual dagger remained tucked into his sleeve, ready to draw enough blood to summon some powerful devil.
Then, one of them spoke.
Predictably, Elijah didn’t understand a word of the strangely fluid, yet still guttural language. Neither did Benedict. Awkwardly, they couldn’t respond to what they didn’t understand.
The leader – whose uniform armor concealed their gender entirely – gripped a small crystal hanging from a thong around their neck and waved it at Elijah. Then, they pointed at him and Benedict in turn before waggling it again.
“I think I know what that is,” Benedict said.
“Is that information you intend on sharing?”
“I think it’s how they protect themselves from the corruption when they leave the city,” Benedict said. “I can’t say for sure without examining it, but it makes sense.”
Elijah looked a little closer, but the bulk of his study came through Soul of the Wild. Oddly, the armor blocked that sense out, meaning he couldn’t get any more information about the guard. What he could do was examine the crystal. He didn’t know what the subtly engraved glyphs meant, but the feeling he got supported Benedict’s assessment.
“I think you’re probably right.”
Then, Elijah looked into the dark visor covering the guard’s face and gave a simple shrug. “We don’t have any of those,” he stated, knowing good and well that they wouldn’t be able to understand him. “I’ve just used this to keep the corruption at bay.”
With that, he let his Mantle of Authority spread out, funneling as much ethera as he could manage through its branches. He didn’t necessarily want to intimidate the natives, but he did want to impress them enough that they might think twice about attacking him. And using his Mantle of Authority was the best way to do that without inflicting harm upon them.
The second the branches enveloped them, they took a startled step back. The less powerful among them took more than one. And a few of the farmers who’d ventured close turned and ran away.
“Going a little overboard, aren’t you?” asked Benedict.
“No.”
“Oh, look – they’re terrified.”
“They’re just surprised.”
“If you say so,” Benedict muttered.
The guards erupted into conversation before one of them sprinted back to Dravkein. The leader’s hand remained on the hilt of their sword, though at least they didn’t draw it upon Elijah or Benedict.
Because hostility was a still a distinct possibility.
What followed was an awkward stand-off that lasted for almost five minutes. During that time, Elijah considered heading back the way he’d come. He also thought about kidnapping one of the farmers so he could learn their language. The inability to communicate was more than frustrating.
Then, two people stepped through the gate.
One was an old man who Elijah immediately recognized as the leader of the hunters. His beard flowed down his chest, contrasting with patchy, black skin on his face. He wore the same black armor he’d worn during the hunt, though he’d eschewed a helmet. Even though Elijah had never seen the man’s face, he had no doubts that it was the same person.
He carried a trio of short spears in one hand, with a fourth in the other. Moreover, he shimmered with enough ethera that Elijah suspected he would be no easy opponent to defeat.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
The other person was a short, though lithe woman. Her raven-black hair fell to narrow shoulders covered in a gauzy dress that looked more ceremonial than any other garb Elijah had seen within the city. Like everyone else in Dravkein, she bore the effects of the corruption in the form of a mutation. In her case, she had sprouted no extra limbs or opened any new eyes. Instead, her pale skin looked like cracked porcelain.
When she drew closer, Elijah could see that those jagged, thin rifts were like windows into the abyss itself. Dark and foreboding and radiating enough foul power to give even Elijah pause. The fissures pulsed with black corruption, mimicking the rhythm of a heartbeat.
But oddly enough, their existence served to accentuate her looks. The result was one of the most unique appearances Elijah had ever beheld, and if asked, he would have labeled her a great beauty. Especially her eyes, which were like pools of darkness enveloped by pure white.
The old hunter wore one of the crystal necklaces, but she did not. She was also unarmed, save for what looked like a clay tablet. The edges were worn smooth, and the surface was covered in hairline cracks. However, it still felt solid.
When they arrived, the woman laid her hand upon the tablet and spoke. The words were no more understandable than they had been from the guard. Once she’d finished speaking, she offered the tablet to Benedict. When he didn’t take it, she mimed for him to place his hand on its surface.
“What do you think?” he asked Elijah.
“It’s probably okay.”
“Probably?”
Elijah shrugged. “I’m flying blind here,” he admitted. “And if it kills you, be aware that I will avenge your death.”
“This is not the time for jokes.”
Elijah shrugged again. In his experience, it was precisely the time for levity. For what it was worth, he didn’t believe the people of Dravkein were hostile. And as such, the chances that they would try to kill Benedict were pretty slim. That said, he was a little relieved that the woman hadn’t offered the tablet to him.
Benedict closed his eyes and took a deep breath before placing his hand on the tablet. He flinched at the resultant surge of ethera, but a second later, his eyes widened.
A few moments later, he spoke. “My name is Benedict. This is Elijah. It is good to meet you, Jasai’i. We are travelers from another world, stranded her after being dragged through an unstable portal. We have been here for months, surviving as best we can. And we desperately need to find a way home.”
The tablet continued to shimmer with ethera until he removed his hand. The woman placed her own hand on the broad surface, and her eyes widened just like Benedict’s. After a few moments, she spoke to the old man.
He replied, his voice gruff but slightly more relaxed. Then, she spoke to the tablet once again. When it came time for Benedict to place his hand on the tablet, he frowned.
Then, he spoke to Elijah. “This is a translation tablet,” he said. “I don’t think it’s perfect. Some of the phrases didn’t quite make sense. But if I’m interpreting it correctly, there is no way home. We’re stuck here.”
Deep anxiety twisted Elijah’s stomach. They’d already been there for months. Intellectually, he knew that the natives would offer no real means of returning to Earth. If they did, they would have used those powers for themselves. But it still felt like he’d been kicked in the chest.
There was no way home.