Now that she’d relaxed a little, the pain in Ana’s side was slowly becoming unbearable. Despite that, she did her best to take in the sights. She would be forced to stay here for at least a few days unless she wanted to risk killing herself, and it was impossible to know exactly what would become important in the near future.
The outpost was a town of almost haphazardly mixed materials. Different woods, red or yellow brick, granite and other stone — different buildings had used whatever the builder had available and could afford. Well built, sure, but… messy. Most of the buildings were two stories tall, and they favored a style where the whole front of the first floor could be opened to the street. Ana saw a mix of stores and workshops, and sometimes both in one space, as they walked along. She assumed that the proprietors lived upstairs.
The street that the guard, Tor, led her along was paved with stone bricks and lined with tall, narrow trees that looked decades older than the buildings around them, and while Ana wouldn’t call it heavily trafficked she still saw a number of people moving between the various businesses. On the whole, people looked friendly. Happy, even, by the way they smiled and talked to each other. Tor seemed to be well known, and many of the people greeted him with a quick word or gesture. Despite that, Ana kept her purse hanging two thirds open on her hip, ready to draw if necessary. She knew how fast a smiling face could turn ugly.
The street they were on was completely straight, and ahead she could see a towering black obelisk reaching into the sky.
“What’s that?” She asked Tor, though her voice hitched slightly. Speaking was becoming painful. “The big black stone ahead.”
“Hmm? Oh, that’s the Waystone. Never seen one before?” Tor answered. He didn’t sound too surprised, so honesty seemed fine.
“No,” Ana admitted. “I haven’t.”
“Fair enough. By your level I’m guessing you’ve been pretty sheltered, and far from every city has one.”
“What is it, a monument of some kind?”
“I suppose you could call it that, but its most important role is that it’s how we stabilize the splinter. That, and it’s the easiest way to get in and out. Ours is in the center of the outpost, but not every outpost is built around their Waystone. Some like to keep it outside of the settlement, since—” He looked at Ana with concern. “Are you sure that you’re okay to be walking?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “But I need to see a doctor once we talk to your captain.”
“If you’re sure…” Tor sounded skeptical. “Maybe—?”
“Please. Mister Tor. I’ll be fine.”
Tor’s look told Ana just how convincing she’d failed to be, but he didn’t argue.
As they got close to the Waystone the street merged into a large square. In the center of the square was a platform, and in the center of that was the Waystone. The thing was at least fifty feet tall and maybe five wide at the base, a towering spike of unevenly cut black rock.
“This way,” Tor said, cutting diagonally across the square. There were a few people here, though the square looked more like a meeting place than a place of business. Some shops that opened onto the square and a few stalls sold drinks and meals, and nothing else that Ana could see. “Almost there. The guardhouse is the big stone building ahead. That’s where we’re headed.”
There was indeed an imposing, three-story building of dark gray stone ahead of them. A man and a woman, each wearing one of the orange armbands, lounged outside and greeted Tor as he approached.
“Hey, Tor. Who’s this?” the woman asked in a bored voice before she took a curious look at Ana, then continued, “And what the hell is she doing here instead of with the midwife?”
“Hey, Sira. This is Miss Anastasia. She’s an accidental,” Tor said, and the woman gave Ana a sympathetic look. “Is the captain in?”
“Sure is. Head on in,” she said and opened the door for them, while the man just gave them both a nod. “And welcome to the splinter, girl. We’ll get you settled in, don’t you worry.”
There was nothing like a reception inside. Instead there were a few tables at which more rough-looking individuals with or without orange armbands sat, talking, playing cards or other games, and drinking from mugs. Nobody paid them much mind as they entered beyond a casual wave of a hand, and Tor simply led Ana past the tables and through a door at the back and side of the room. There were stairs leading up and down, and Tor took her up.
“Up are the offices, and then the captain’s apartment,” Tor explained. “Down are the cells, though we’ve barely ever used those. Pretty peaceful place, this outpost.”
Up one flight of stairs a door opened in the same direction as they’d entered, leading into a small seating area with a number of doors. Another flight of stairs continued up, but it was blocked by a small gate which Ana could have easily stepped over. If her side didn’t hurt so abominably, that is. A sign on the gate read, “Stop! Private domicile!” in complex letters that were at once completely unfamiliar and yet completely readable to Ana.
Ana stopped and stared. What the hell was this? How could she read that?
“Anastasia?” Tor asked, his concern obvious. “Is something wrong?”
Now that she thought about it, Tor wasn’t speaking English, nor had anyone else. She’d just been going along, not noticing, because she understood every word everyone said. She did the same thing with Spanish and French sometimes, not noticing which language she was speaking, but this language was completely unfamiliar.
“I need to sit down,” she said. Her legs felt as wobbly as her voice. She wasn’t speaking English either.
“Oh, damn!” Tor said, rushing forward and supporting her by the elbow. “Here, sit,” he said, indicating a bench just inside the door. The room was much longer than it was wide, with three doors on the long side and one on the short side. Tor strode over quickly and knocked on the single door.
“Come,” came a strong voice from inside, and Tor opened the door.
“Captain, I’ve brought in an accidental,” he said without entering the office.
“An accidental? Bring him in.”
“If you don’t mind, Captain, could you come out? She’s worse off than I’d thought.”
Ana could hear the scrape of a chair from inside the office, and a man exited past Tor.
Captain Falk was perhaps in his mid forties. He had a long face with olive skin, and dark, close cropped hair which was spattered with gray. His label read [Human Peacekeeper (29)]. He regarded Ana with serious, light brown eyes for a moment, then turned to Tor.
“Mister Barlo, why have you brought this young lady here instead of to see the midwife?”
“Apologies, Captain. We walked past her shop, but I didn’t realize how badly Miss Anastasia here was hurt.”
Oh. That was nice, Ana thought. He didn’t even mention how Ana had insisted that she was fine.
“In that case, Barlo, please go see if Mistress Touanne has time to come here.”
“Of course, Captain,” Tor said and left quickly, leaving Ana’s pack by the door and Ana alone with the older man.
“Well, Miss, I''m Captain Tober Falk,” he said, offering his hand. She reached out and shook it automatically, and he looked at the handshake curiously for a moment, then shrugged.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Anastasia,” she said, her voice much more tight and flat than she’d intended. She’d wanted to be charming, to get on this man’s good side from the start. But she was feeling a little light headed — not quite all there.
“Miss Anastasia,” Falk said gently, “I suggest you take that armor off and lie down. You’re clearly not well.”
“I’m—” Ana said, scooting back so that she leaned against the corner of the wall. “I’ll be fine.”
She was not going to be fine. She knew that very well. She was feeling faint. Short of breath. She was slightly confused, and in a nauseating amount of pain. All symptoms of something distinctly bad.
“Miss, please,” Falk said. “I could—” He stopped himself, then said, “Ah, of course. Apologies, Miss.”
He walked over to the door closest to his own, knocked twice, then opened it without waiting for an answer. “Marra,” he said through the door, “would you come out here, please?”
“What is it, Captain?” a mature woman’s voice asked, stressing the rank, and shortly thereafter a heavyset woman with long, curly red hair was visible through the open door,
“I have a new arrival here, Marra, and I think she needs some kindness. Would you be a dear and get us all some tea?”
“All right, Captain,” the woman answered in a long-suffering voice, then looked at Ana. “Goodness, Tober,” she said to the captain. “Why isn’t she with Touanne already?”
“I sent Mister Barlo to fetch her, dear,” Falk said softly, then louder, “Now how about that tea?”
“As you wish, Captain,” the woman, Marra, said before bustling down the stairs.
Falk went into his own office and came out with a chair, sitting down three yards away from Ana before speaking again. “Miss Anastasia, our settlement’s best Healer is coming to take a look at you. Until then, do you feel up to covering some of the formalities?”
“I think so,” Ana said, though there was a groan in her voice. Shit. Had she aggravated her injury carrying that pack? Was she bleeding internally? And they called this Touanne woman a “healer,” not a doctor. How screwed was she?
How much did any of this matter? She listened to Falk speak, and she understood everything he said, but now that she was aware of the fact that every single word he said was in a language that she was completely unfamiliar with she wasn''t sure how much she could trust of what she saw, felt, and heard.
“Good, good,” Falk said, his voice calm and steady. “So. Welcome to our splinter. It doesn’t have a name yet on account of not having stabilized, but signs are good and we’re very hopeful. My name is Tober Falk. I’m a captain of the Bluesky Guild, which controls the splinter, and in charge of the safety of this settlement. If you don’t mind, I’d like to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“Anastasia Cole,” she said, her voice strained but trying to be pleasant. “I’m an… accidental, like Tor — Mister Barlo? Like he said. I woke up in the forest last night.”
With Nic braindead under her, and three lunatics attacking her with daggers and swords. She had an urge to tell him that, but it didn''t really make any difference, did it?
Falk sighed. “Mercifully rare, but not unheard of. You’re not the first accidental we’ve had, though none this cycle, and none have chosen to stay. Now, I see you’ve had some luck, good and bad,” he continued, indicating her dress and her pack. “I doubt that you arrived with that equipment. I’ve never seen an accidental who was adequately prepared. And as we’ve already established, you, Miss, are clearly injured. But don’t worry. Touanne, the midwife, is an excellent Healer. Very strong in the Craft of Life. And if she’s too busy we’ll give you a potion and you’ll be just fine.”
He paused, then said, “Would you mind explaining the equipment?”
“There was a camp near where I woke up,” she said. “It looked abandoned, so I took what I needed.” She tried to play embarrassed, looking away and making herself blush, but with the state she was in it was hard to say how successful she was.
Falk regarded her neutrally. “The armor, the weapons strapped to your pack, they were all from that camp?”
She might as well tell him that part. She''d just have to twist it a little. She had already told Tor that she’d been attacked, and she’d decided to be mostly open about what happened. They probably wouldn''t — what? Hang her? — for defending herself. Falk seemed like a sympathetic guy. Worst case they might lock her up for a while they investigated.
“No, Captain,” she said, working hard to turn on the waterworks. It didn’t take much. She was on the edge as it was. “I found my way to the road, but on the way here I was attacked.”
“Attacked, you say?” Falk said with concern. “By animals? Demons?”
“You might call them demons,” Ana said piteously. “But they were human. Two men. One distracted me with promises of help while the other snuck up behind me.” She looked at Falk with fear and pain in her eyes. “I can only imagine what their intentions were, but I’ve been taught some self defense, and I had a dagger from the camp and—” She didn’t so much force out a sob as stop holding it back. “I don’t know what happened, but the next thing I knew they were both dead!”
Falk was scowling now. “Bandits, in my splinter,” he said darkly. “With your level so low, and a social Class besides, I’m sure they underestimated you. They would never have expected you to know how to defend yourself. Do you know anything about them?”
“No, Captain. I’m sorry. I was so distraught with suddenly being here, and then being accosted like that… I think one of them was named Larry, or something like that, but I’m not sure. The other was a Ranger.”
“I understand,” Falk said. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough who’s missing. It’s a small community, after all. Ah, here is Marra with the tea!” His face brightened as the short, somewhat round woman arrived up the stairs with a tray bearing four steaming mugs.
“I took the liberty of bringing an extra for Touanne,” she said, then noticed Ana’s tear streaked face and puffy eyes. “Oh, Tober, you beast,” she scolded. “What have you done to the poor girl?”
“Miss Anastasia was just telling me how she was attacked by two men on the road,” Falk said, his anger about the situation clear in his voice.
“Attacked?” Marra looked at Ana. Her face twisted into a cruel smile, a strange thing on her cheerful face. “And here you are, Miss, wearing armor much too large for you. You really showed those bastards, didn’t you?”
Ana gave her a weak smile. “I suppose I did, Ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t you ‘Ma’am’ me. I’m Marra, or Mistress Falk if absolutely must be formal. Now,” she turned to Captain Falk. “Will there be anything else, Captain?”
“No, lov— Marra, that is all for now. Thank you.” He picked up his mug and turned to Ana. “While we wait, let me tell you a little about what you’ve gotten yourself, or been dragged, perhaps, into. This is a young splinter. We’ve only been here a few cycles, barely established as all things go. Now, again, you have some good luck, some bad. Unfortunately for you, this is a low-ambient splinter. That means that the cycles are long, and to make matters worse, we’re in the beginning of a cycle.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Ana said. “I don’t know anything about splinters and Waystones and all this. What do you mean about the cycle? Why is that bad?”
“Of course. I’m sorry, I should have considered your level compared to your age. You must have been very sheltered, am I right?”
“I suppose,” Ana said noncommittally.
“Well, the Waystone only opens at the end of the cycle, unless we force it, which we’re extremely reluctant to do. Terribly destabilizing for the splinter, you see. No one can leave until then, meaning that you will not be able to leave this splinter for…” He turned and spoke loudly towards Marra’s door. “Marra! How long until the end of the cycle?”
“Hundred and forty-seven days!” came the reply.
“Thanks!” He turned back to Ana. “So neither you nor anyone else will be able to leave for one hundred and forty-seven days.”
“Oh,” Ana said. She had no idea how to feel about that.
“But, you have some good luck as well!” Falk said with great enthusiasm. “This is a low-level splinter, meaning low-risk. Easy crystals! I know that you have a civilian Class, but even you will be able to get along if you just practice some combat Skills and join a casual team of other non-combatants. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll get a taste for it and will want to switch to a combat Class? You’re low level, after all. You’d surpass your current level in weeks, I’d bet. And while the splinter is low-level it is considered to have high potential for development since it’s an eternal summer splinter. We expect agriculture to boom in the next few cycles. That means high investment and high levels of support from the Bluesky Guild, which keeps prices down!”
There came the sound of more than one set of boots on the stairs, and Falk looked out the door.
“And here comes Tor — Mister Barlo, I mean — with the midwife,” he said. “Thank you, Barlo. Touanne, thank you for coming. Would you mind taking a look at this young lady, Anastasia, here?”
Touanne, the midwife, was an [Elfin Healer (23)], a willowy woman with fair, freckled skin and straight, chestnut hair that hung to her shoulders. Ana would guess that she was in her early thirties, and there was something about her that radiated concern and compassion. She could probably trust her. She’d have to, if Touanne was it for local medical professionals. She relaxed and felt her head spin just a little. After a few seconds, she realized that she’d been staring. She’d seen Touanne’s lips move, but she had no idea what she’d said.
The woman in front of her turned to the captain with an urgent expression. "Captain," she said, "I need to borrow your office. Right now. Tor, help Miss Anastasia inside."
Tor quickly moved to put Ana''s arm on her uninjured side over his shoulder. She protested weakly, but she really didn''t feel well, and she didn''t sense any danger from him. She let herself be helped to her feet and shuffled into the captain''s office. Falk picked up the chair he''d brought and took it back inside.
"In the chair, there," Touanne directed, and Tor helped Ana sit. "Thank you for your help, gentlemen," Touanne said to Falk and Tor, then unceremoniously shooed them out and closed the door.