Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't (Chapter 10) (Patreon)

Not quite 2k words on this one, but it's an in-between chapter with not much going on, so I didn't want to force it. Tomorrow's chapter should be more interesting, since we'll encounter our first mage.

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(Erik POV)

The day of departure finally came.

There were tears, though neither Erik nor Arne were crying. Lily's eyes were red, but she didn’t cry either—not surprising, considering she’d cried all week. Erik supposed she'd used up all her tears.

Grace and her family cried the most. It was in this kind of atmosphere where they had their first kiss. Her lips were trembling, wet and tasting of salt. Erik didn’t know whether Grace was afraid for him or afraid for herself and her family—maybe a bit of both.

Some humor, like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, helped alleviate the mood—related to Arne and Millie, one of Grace’s younger sisters. The curly, mousey-haired girl suddenly separated from her family, running toward Arne.

Erik found it incredibly funny, seeing his little brother dumbstruck by the girl tearfully throwing her arms around his shoulders. He couldn’t help laughing at Arne’s growing discomfort and realization about what was happening.

Arne managed to separate from Millie who clung to him like a limpet, but it was difficult. Erik actually felt sorry for the poor girl, mustering up her courage only to be rejected. Though, he’d certainly tease his little brother later—Arne always played matchmaker between Grace and himself, yet he was clueless about other girls’ feelings.

In the end, the caravan leader, a man named Westley, threatened to leave without them if they didn’t finish their 'hugging and smooching'.

Both he and Arne hurriedly said their last farewells.

Though the parting was painful, Erik consoled himself knowing it was only temporary, at least his talks with father John suggested this. Because his blessings were so... powerful, the Abbey would treat him extremely well. Once Erik established himself, he wouldn’t forget his parents, nor Grace and her family.

Wearing a determined expression, he waved farewell to everyone, doing his best not to cry.

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(Arne POV)

When our caravan rounded a bend in the road, Westbrook was no longer visible. The forest’s trunks, branches and leaves, as well as the geography’s rolling hills, swallowed it completely.

I turned to Erik, who’s eyes were still fixed in that direction.

“Dad didn’t say goodbye.”

Despite myself, I felt a little lost and disappointed. Jed may have been a bastard, but he still saved my life in the end.

My brother turned his gaze to me.

“Yeah… he was probably… probably…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but I knew what he meant. Over the past few days, the troll attacks intensified. Jed, along with the rest of Westbrook’s men, couldn’t relax for one second. If a few of the monsters managed to infiltrate the town, well… the consequences were too terrible to even consider.

My fists clenched involuntarily.

“Why would jungle trolls come this far north? It doesn’t make any sense…”

My tone contained a hint of helplessness.

Erik’s expression was grave.

“They want to kill and eat us. What other reason could they have?”

His voice was matter-of-fact, but I shook my head.

“Why hunt so far away from home? There must be something we don’t know.”

However, Erik didn’t give my words any consideration.

“They’re evil monsters and they hate us. They don’t want us to live. There isn’t any other reason.”

There was a period of silence as his words sunk in.

I wanted to refute him somehow, but I couldn’t. The image of the troll who attacked me kept coming to mind—hideous looking, with big unblinking eyes, staring at me without a trace of feeling.

If the game was to be believed, there were good trolls out there, but… so what? The ones attacking our village, not sparing women and children but specifically targeting them, were as far from good as one could possibly get.

Erik put a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry so much. Dad and the others are strong, and they don’t have to beat the trolls. They’ll hold out until the soldiers arrive, and then those stupid monsters will all die.”

There was a trace of unconcealed hatred in his voice, something that made me a little uncomfortable. However, I couldn’t help wondering if I was being too naïve. The trolls didn’t care about me at all, yet here I was, worrying about them.

I chalked it up to my modern sensibilities, something I hadn’t managed to shake off even after ten years spent in this world. The game’s influence couldn’t be disregarded either.

Taking a deep breath, I promised myself to discard all expectations—if they led me astray, I’d only have myself to blame. After all, I already knew this world didn’t operate on video-game logic.

Nodding slowly, my eyes moved away from Erik, absentmindedly scanning the rest of the caravan.

“I’m sorry Erik, I can only rely on you to take care of everyone. I’m not… special, but I’ll try my best. I’ll help you with your things so you can focus on… I don’t know, whatever it is they’ll be teaching you in Northshire. Maybe I can try making some money…”

My sentence trailed off as I started thinking about the future.

At my side, Erik looked at me with complicated eyes.

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(Erik POV)

Erik had a secret.

Truthfully, since he could remember, he felt the Light’s presence. It didn’t ‘speak’ to him as the church’s teachings suggested. Instead, it was a warm feeling between his chest and abdomen. It could be moved around according to his wishes, but not brought outside his body.

At best, it could be used to relieve some fatigue or to hasten the recovery of an injured or overexerted body part, but wasn’t useful for much else.

He tried telling his mother about it, but she didn’t believe him, even punishing him for making up stories instead of doing his chores. Not being the type of person to make the same mistake twice, Erik stayed quiet.

It was only during a moment of utter desperation that the heat in his chest overflowed, almost like something being hatched, surging into his dying brother.

Arne’s pale, bloodstained face, his half-lidded eyes, glassy and unmoving, as well as his icy-cold body… Erik wouldn’t forget the terrifying sight for the rest of his life.

Suddenly feeling nervous and shaky, he looked at Arne, sitting across from him next to their small campfire. The red-orange light highlighted his little brother’s dusky, childish face, reflecting off his messy, golden curls and amber eyes.

Arne’s resemblance to their father was truly uncanny.

Sensing a gaze on him, he looked up.

“What?”

Quickly composing himself, Erik shook his head. He didn’t want to worry his little brother.

“Nothing, it’s just cold.”

Arne nodded, rubbing his hands and holding them against the fire.

“Oh, yeah it is.”

His tone was absentminded, clearly thinking of something else.

Their conversation ended as quickly as it began. Erik resumed his staring, fixing his unblinking eyes on Arne.

His little brother had always been… odd, though if someone asked him why, he’d struggle to explain. To Erik, it always felt like their roles were reversed, that Arne was the eldest between them. It wasn’t just that, he was… different, always up to something strange.

Arne’s obsession with learning how to read was one such example, something neither Erik nor the other village children understood. After all, who’d want to sit inside, cooped up with a bunch of stuffy books?

Then there was the matter of him pestering Wedge, a middle-aged mercenary turned leatherworker. Wanting to learn how to fight, Arne tried everything he could think of, trying to persuade the old veteran to teach him.

However, it didn’t amount to anything—Wedge was a notoriously greedy bastard, and Arne couldn’t afford lessons.

Of course, Arne wouldn’t be himself if he gave up that easily. In an attempt to earn money, he came up with some crazy concoction, made out of dried brown mushrooms and salt. Erik even tasted some, finding it quite delicious as a seasoning with vegetables or meat.

Unfortunately, the selling process was… disastrous. The local inn didn’t take him seriously at all, refusing to even try the stuff. He was forced to sell his ‘mushroom powder’ in the market square. However, his sales were terrible, and the local gangsters robbed the little money he did make.

Unable to protect himself or find a third party to deal on his behalf, Arne could only give up.

Reflecting on what happened in the past, Erik clenched his fist unconsciously. He was incredibly ashamed of himself, of how afraid he’d been to stand up for his little brother, or even to help him.

Arne’s near-death galvanized his resolve, and Erik made a promise to himself that he’d never abandon him again.

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