The Accidental Archmage, Edmund Batara [read after TXT] 📗

at the rest and pointed to those on the ground. Then he

followed the two women.

The remaining woman was roughly pulled up to stand by one of the men and shoved to

the group, one of whom held her close and pointed a dagger at her throat. The rest

closed with the prisoners and at a signal unseen to Tyler, started hacking. Tyler could

see the blood spurting from the doomed men, spraying all over the place and bathing

their killers in red. He could hear the meaty thuds when swords and axes sliced through

flesh and bone. One prisoner started to get up but a spear through his back brought him back down to the ground.

The man with the woman turned and started to walk towards the forest with his victim.

Tyler decided it was time to go. He crawled back to his original position. He looked at

the body he passed and considered looting the corpse of its armor and other gear. He

thought better of it. Time was not on his side as he may be discovered. The sword

would have to do for now. He did grab the dead man’s knife which was in a sheath

attached to his belt.

In a crouch and trying to be as quiet as he could be, he fled back to the forest.

After an hour of quiet backtracking, his mind filled with the tension and fear of being

discovered, Tyler finally stopped. He sat down, drank some water, taking care to have

his back to a tree. Though he tried to listen to any sound of discovery and pursuit, only

the usual forest sounds reached his ears. He knew he wouldn’t even know if somebody

was tracking him. But the bandits would have taken some time to do their business of

rape and pillage. Any finding of his presence will only be uncovered when the bandits

start to scour the forest edges. He will be far from this place by the time they pick up

his trail and send somebody after him. If they even bother.

Looking at his looted weapons, the short iron sword appeared to be well maintained,

around 38 inches in length with a grip bound with rawhide. The cross-guard was a

simple design but the blade was nicked in several places. The iron dagger appeared

well-made and of a similar functional design. Using the edge of his shirt, he wiped clean

both weapons. The lack of a sheath for the dagger and a scabbard for the sword were

inconvenient. He slipped the dagger inside his backpack and kept the sword in his right

hand.

He had no illusions about his ability to use the weapon in a swordfight. But at least he

would have something to defend himself against solitary forest predators. He knew

wouldn’t stand any chance against hunting packs like the wolves he escaped from. The

best option would be avoidance but his forest skills left much to be desired. In fact, it

sucked to the point of being imaginary. The additional cuts and bruises on his arms

attested to that. He really hated being in this forest. But loathed may be a better

description of what he really felt right now.

Thinking back to what he saw, he did find civilization. Of a sort. The bandits and their

victims appeared to be human though the language was unfamiliar. The technological

level appeared to be somewhere in the Iron Age, as the sword indicated. Social

development he surmised would be early middle ages. The covered wagons indicated

organized settlements and a degree of socio-political order. Beyond these assumptions,

he had nothing else.

Yet it was clear that this is a violent world. More violent and brutally direct than modern Earth, at least on a personal scale. Modern warfare had put a premium on distance

mass killing. This world also appeared to be void of the societal conventions imposed by

Earth’s political and technological advancements. That said, he couldn’t decide whether

he was better off being the sole human in this world or discovering the kind of

civilization as he had seen back at the edge of the forest. Surviving had become a lot

more difficult.

Standing up, he continued on his way, trying to put more distance between him and

possible pursuers.

It was starting to get dark when he stopped to prepare for the night. His dinner finished

off the last of his food and only a little water remained. He had been eating on the run,

stopping only to take short rest breaks. Fatigue ravaged his body and he felt a bit

feverish. Hunger pangs had started already. The biscuits and jerky definitely were not

enough. The adrenaline rushes, the fear, and the constant physical movement had cost

him. He was still searching for a tree to spend the night in when he heard it.

Something or someone was moving in his direction and not keeping quiet about it. He

could hear it crashing through the underbrush. It was coming from the direction from

which he came. Terror gripped him. His frightened mind warred between fighting and

fleeing. The fighting part coming from the false reassurance of the sword he now

gripped tightly. For a few precious seconds, he stood still, frozen in his fear, and then

his legs made the decision for him. He ran.

He didn’t know how long he dashed through the forest. It was a mindless exercise

fueled by terror. Tyler went through the bushes and branches like crazy, not caring

about the noise. He didn’t even realize he had lost his sword, dropping it somewhere

along his fear induced path. All he could think of was fleeing. He was already panting

heavily and was dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He was tired as hell but still he

continued his mad dash through the undergrowth.

All of a sudden, he was thrown back sideways. It was as if somebody punched him in

the left shoulder. Yet, in his terrified state, he barely noticed the pain. He stood up and continued running. After a few seconds, he suddenly felt weak and noticed something

stuck on his left side. He then saw that an arrow had struck him in the area where he

first noticed the pain. It had punched through the muscle and all he could see was the

shaft. The arrowhead must be on the other