Head-sized rocks clattered past, bouncing and tearing more chunks of the rock formation as they tumbled down. The wyvern kicked up a cloud of dust as it scrambled above. Its claws screeched against stone, the movement shaking Stephan left and right. Then the tail yanked him up.
His gut lurched from the sudden acceleration, and then he was face to face with the monster.
The wyvern’s angular head filled his vision, the monster’s breath thick with rot. Its right eye was a ruin, with an arrow buried deep into the socket. Another three jutted out of its neck, clattering as the creature moved.
A whistle tore through the air, then a fourth arrow found the creature’s serpentine throat with a thud more woody than the sound of an arrow hitting flesh.
The wyvern recoiled. Its ax-like beak opened, and it hissed, jerking back, but the arrow barely mattered. It had done as much damage as a splinter would to a grown man—not insignificant, but it required a stroke of luck to inflict grievous wounds.
The shot did buy Stephan a moment. He was prone on the ground, one hand gripping the dagger, the other the creature’s tail, and in an instant, he made a decision. With his left, he pulled one way, with his dagger-wielding right, he tugged the blade in the opposite direction. Flesh resisted until it suddenly gave.
Hot blood gushed over Stephan’s hands. The stinger, as long as his forearm, fell to the ground, severed from the rest of the tail. The wyvern roared and recoiled violently, then threw itself into the air with its muscular legs, flying away from the menace that had crippled it.
One last arrow followed it and lodged itself in its back. Then, the creature was off. It flew south, growing smaller and smaller until it was gone.
[Level 21 reached
Skill acquired: Bane of Darkness II
+0 Agility, +1 Charisma, +1 Composure, +1 Dexterity, +2 Endurance, +1 Intelligence, +1 Luck, +1 Perception, +1 Presence, +1 Strength, +1 Toughness, +1 Vitality, +1 Willpower, +1 Wisdom]
A surge of warmth so sudden that it staggered him rushed into Stephan’s chest, light flashing before his eyes.
Why did I gain a level?
He understood a moment later, after hearing the sobbing from beneath his feet. He had performed his duty, exactly as the gods had framed it, by protecting the innocent from a dragon.
“Don’t worry, we drove the monster away.” He slid down twenty feet of sheer rock, hands and feet finding holds with skill he didn’t know he had. He stopped at the base of the formation, before a crack in the solid stone marked with fresh scratches his expert tracking ability easily told him came from a giant reptile’s long claws.
Then, his keen eye also noticed his bent dagger had a faint halo of green light.
[Hunt’s Blessing - Least Reptile Bane - This blade ignores the hardness of scales of ordinary reptiles.]
Stephan read the description just as Muriel ran over.
“You’re insane! What were you thinking? Attacking a grown wyvern with a knife?”
“I think,” Stephan said slowly, connecting what he had done with what benefit he had received. “That I have done something genuinely good.”
He wasn’t a commander leading one side fighting against the other, with no real right or wrong. That didn’t give him levels; neither did killing a river dragon or surviving their repeated attacks.
Today he had acted with no expectations, facing clear danger, to save a stranger’s life.
“Are you all right?” he asked the woman hiding inside the rock formation. “You can come out now.”
And she did. Timidly and shaking, the young woman, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, stepped into the light squinting.
She was haggard, her hair a mess, every visible part of her scratched and bruised, her clothes lined with small cuts. But even beneath the dust and grime, she was a beauty with a lithe body. Even Stephan caught himself staring, and she shrank back.
“Sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting someone so young. Are you all right? Did the wyvern hurt you?”
It was a stupid question; had the wyvern laid a claw on her, the girl would’ve been dead.
“I’m fine,” her words came out meek and heavily accented, her eyes fixed on the ground, “thank you for saving me.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he said before his mind caught up with his tongue. “I mean, I’m glad you’re safe, but what are you doing all alone so deep in the waste?”
The girl hesitated, shrinking, but then she spoke.
“I fled from my village and tried to hide in the desert.” She lowered her head further, then the words gushed out of her. “Enforcers came to collect taxes, and they wanted to take me to the baron’s mansion, saying my family owed more than we could pay. So, when they weren’t paying attention, I ran away. They chased after me and followed me down the cliff, but then the wyvern attacked, and I’ve been hiding here for two days now.”
Stephan was stumped for words. Did she want help? Could he even leave her alone in the desert after finding her?
“You must be thirsty,” he said instead of coming to a decision and reached for his gourd only to realize he had dropped it before rushing to wrestle with a wyvern.
He turned towards Muriel sheepishly. “Do you mind giving her some water and keeping her safe while I go and pick up my things?”
The woman rolled her eyes at him, but offered her gourd to the girl.
“Drink,” she said as Stephan trotted back to collect the trappings he had dropped.
What do I do with her? We can’t leave her here. And if we take her to her village, we might cause more trouble, and it would be even worse if we brought her to another place where she would be a stranger…
Stephan considered everything, even letting her join them, which would be grueling for someone without a class, but reached no conclusion even when he returned with all his sacks and packets distributed around his person.
“I am Stephan and this is Muriel,” he realized he had failed to make basic introductions even before reaching his supplies.
“I’m Grace,” she looked up. After moving her hair from her face and clearing some of the grime, she looked even more beautiful. She blushed slightly as she searched Stephan’s face. “Thank you for the water, and for saving me…”
Her words faltered as she started repeating herself.
“You have nothing to be afraid of. We won’t hurt you,” Stephan said. “You don’t have to do anything. We can leave you here and give you a gourd of water. some food too,” he felt Muriel’s glare even if he wasn’t looking at her, “giving away a bit of our supplies won’t beggar us. Or we could escort you to your village or somewhere else.”
True to his nature, he decided to let Grace choose her own fate.
“Thank you. I would like to return home,” she started eagerly, but even as the words left her mouth, she seemed to realize the same thing Stephan had. “Yes, I should go back, even if it’s just to tell Mum and Pa I’m alive and well and to explain what happened so they can prepare for trouble.”
She sized up Stephan and Muriel. “You’re not the desert folk, are you? Your skin’s too light. Did you come from the blessed lands up north?”
Stephan exchanged a glance with Muriel, who gave a slight, nearly imperceptible shake of her head. She didn’t know about that name either.
“We are from up north, but we don’t know what the blessed lands are.” Muriel turned around at his words and raised her hand to her eyes as if she was in pain.
“That’s what the outlaws call the kingdom, Steve,” she stressed the name way too much, and there was venom in her voice.
If she knew, why did she shake her—Ah! I was supposed to keep it a secret.
He frowned. How was he supposed to do that when Grace had a completely different manner of speech? They would reveal themselves each time they opened their mouths for anything other than eating. Perhaps even that.
Grace crossed her arms and glared at Muriel.
“My great-grandparents were banished south for being too poor to pay taxes! Many people died to the river dragons, and even more when crossing the desert, and you’re angry with us? You call us outlaws? And on my mother’s side, they’ve been here ever since fiends ruled the blessed lands.”
“Why do you call them blessed lands?” Stephan asked. The territories once conquered by fiends should have been called anything but blessed.
“Because you get good classes. All everyone ever gets here is the Commoner.”
Stephan and Muriel both stared at her. Apparently, not even the Tracker had known that particular bit of information.
Stephan considered everything he knew about the classes and found it impossible.
“You should at least have some Artisans, Sentries, and Priests or Healers.”
Grace shook her head. “Only Commoners, the only class that anyone’s gotten in a really long time is the Commoner.”
Stephan frowned. That made no sense. Old Tod clearly said the gods assigned classes as they saw fit. There was no way they would have blessed everyone with the Commoner class, unless they had done something to deserve it.
What can you do to anger the gods to such an extent? He wondered, but doubted he would find an answer to that question.
[Stephan Cobblerson, Paladin level 21
Class skills: In Living Memory XV, Blessing of Healing II, Blessing of Arms II, Smite II, Blessing of Protection II, Inspiring Aura II, Blessing of Conviction II, Blessing of Intuition II, Blessing of Health II, Bane of Darkness II, Mercy I, Chivalry I, Holy Magic I
Attributes: Agility: 27, Charisma: 26, Composure: 31, Dexterity: 23, Endurance: 31, Intelligence: 23, Luck: 27, Perception: 27, Presence: 28, Strength: 31, Toughness: 30, Vitality: 32, Willpower: 30, Wisdom: 28]
[Level 21 reached
Skill acquired: Bane of Darkness II
+0 Agility, +1 Charisma, +1 Composure, +1 Dexterity, +2 Endurance, +1 Intelligence, +1 Luck, +1 Perception, +1 Presence, +1 Strength, +1 Toughness, +1 Vitality, +1 Willpower, +1 Wisdom]
[Bane of Darkness II - You may break curses on cursed items and locations.]