Chapter Three: Proof of Worthiness (Patreon)

Before

When my stomach is finally empty and beginning to feel settled, I look around again, hoping that my initial impressions were wrong. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear to be that way; if anything, it’s worse. I don’t know why, but when I imagined where I would be taken, I’d always envisioned a city, or a manor house, or even a palace. The ‘lord’ in the letter must have been what gave me that idea, I realise. This...it’s not a city. It’s not even a village, let alone anything more palatial. Instead, it looks like there are no signs of civilisation in sight.

I’m standing on the lower slopes of a mountain. Above me on one side towers a great snow-covered peak; on the other side lies a valley full of trees. Either side of the mountain stretches  out into a number of other, lower, peaks. The temperature is actually rather pleasant, perhaps on the slightly chilly side when the wind blows, and the air is crisp and fresh. Too fresh – there’s not a hint of human presence in polluting smells. It truly appears to be a paradise for the intrepid backpacker.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been into the whole backpacking thing, and I don’t think anyone would label me as ‘intrepid’. Heck, I don’t even go on camping trips! I hated them as a child, and then there were no more childhood holidays after...the incident. As an adult, I always chose to stay at a hotel, either picking a warm place for holidays on the beach, or a cold place for skiing.

The only reason I own the massive rucksack I’m currently wearing is that one company I worked for sent us all off on a ‘team-building’ exercise in the wilds of the Brecon Beacons. Apparently going hungry, cold, wet, and miserable for a week with a whole load of co-workers who barely knew each other was supposed to foster good working relationships.

And the reason I’d bought a whole new, fancy backpack was because I was trying to impress my new colleagues. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. Perhaps it would have if my sturdy, practical backpack had been accompanied by a sturdy, practical man, but, as I’ve already established, camping isn’t my thing.

No, for me, holidays are about enjoyment – staying in a comfortable, convenient location, going out to nice restaurants, and spending the days relaxing or doing some sort of fun activity. Which is why I’m currently desperately hoping that this is some sort of a joke and Lord Nicholas is about to jump out from behind a rock or something.

As I think that, the emblem in my hand warms up again. Hope and nerves both rise inside of me again. What if, despite what the letter said, I’m actually about to be transported back? Honestly, I don’t really know what to think about that, but I don’t have the time to do any deep soul-searching as that apparently isn’t the reason for the emblem’s reaction. Instead, it crumbles into glowing motes of dust which easily fall out of my hand.

The motes drift down, but instead of coating the ground as normal, they instead take some sort of shape in the air. Under my disbelieving gaze, a wooden table comes into existence, rather incongruously placed in this completely natural landscape.

I rub my eyes, I’ll admit it. My mouth might also be hanging open. I touch the table tentatively, wondering if it will just shatter into dust again before my fingertips can come into contact. It doesn’t of course, and I just spend a few moments marveling at my first experience with magic.

Once I manage to get past my amazement at howthe table had appeared, I start to explore what is actually on it. At least, I try to, but the gloves I’m wearing rather impede my ability to pick things up. Cursing softly, I strip them off and shrug off about three extra layers of clothes while I’m at it – I’m hot! Now more comfortable, I turn back to the table.

There are a number of items: some of them are recognisable, if a little alarming in what they imply; others just look like strangely glowing stones of different shades and sizes. Right in the centre is another piece of paper, although this is a scroll. It’s rolled up with a blue ribbon and sealed with black wax, indented with the same heraldry that had been on the emblem.

Picking up the scroll, I crack the wax reluctantly, admiring the way it looks like something out of the medieval era.

Greetings,

You have taken the first step. You are an unusual person indeed to have dared the unknown in search of a fleeting greatness. However, greatness requires a proof of worthiness, and the price for transporting you from your world to mine is not small. Thus, for the purpose of efficiency the task for the two aims shall be one and the same.

Your objectives are twofold; first, survival. You must survive in your current world for a year. However, you must do more than just survive to achieve your second objective: collecting enough Energy to pay for your passage to my world. I am sure that you will be confused about this last point, so let me explain.

I stop reading at that, taking a deep breath and then starting at the top again. No, I hadunderstood what it was saying. I have to survive here. For a year. Anger rises within me, but I’m self-aware enough to recognise the fear that curdles my stomach underneath it. All my self-awareness doesn’t stop me from feeling both emotions, though, and my thoughts are quickly overtaken by emotion.

As the wave of heat rises within me, my hand clenches and the rustle of paper crunching sounds loudly in the still air. A small part of my mind notes how much more effort I have to use to crush the paper than I would expect, but most of my awareness is concentrating on my thoughts about what I’ve just read.

This is total BS! What kind of ‘opportunity’ or ‘new life’ is this? I can’t even see the hintof civilisation anywhere. Besides my worst-case scenarios of some alien version of human trafficking, if this guy Nicholas was on the level, I was expecting him to at least welcome me in person! Not dump me in some deserted area and tell me to ‘survive’ – for a ‘year’. The fear curdling in my stomach quickly turns into panic: what do I know about survival? A week in the Brecon Beacons hardly counts! I’ve never even watched those survival reality TV shows.

I curse and kick the leg of the table making the items on it wobble alarmingly. How the hell is this supposed to show my ‘worthiness’? In what? Screaming like a little girl the first time a spider creeps into my tent? No, that’s not referring back to an incident during my previous ill-fated expedition in the ‘wilds’. Really!

I swear again and storm away from the table. My behaviour can be best described as a tantrum as I shout, stamp, wave my arms in anger and kick the ground, venting all the pent up anger and frustration and, yes, grief, that has been brewing in me over the last few days. Hell,weeks. I’m crying and I don’t even realise it until my eyes blur enough that I can’t see in front of myself clearly.

This, actually, ends my tirade as I kick a hidden rock in a tussock of grass and pain shoots up my foot. Of course, when I say it comes to an end, that’s only once I’ve cursed the air blue again while hopping on one leg. I decide to pretend that the tears are from the pain and let myself go a bit. It’s not like anyone is here to see me, after all.

Slowly, the pain ebbs and with it goes all the intensity of emotion which had been moving me. In its place I feel calmer, emptier. Ever-so-slightly more settled, like perhaps, not now, and not anytime soon, but perhaps one day I might feel better. About myself. About my life.

Of course, if I really have to survive in the wilds that this appears to be by myself for a year, my life isn’t likely to last very long, but then I’m the stupid one who decided to accept a magical transportation without reading the small print. Or even having the small print toread, as a matter of fact. Maybe that should have been my first warning.

Honestly, when I think about it, I’m not angry at Nicholas, not really. I’m angry at myself. Of course it was going to turn out to be too good to be true: it always is. Anytime I’ve let myself get sucked into something which seems fantastic on the surface, it’s always turned out to be a smelly, putrid bog underneath. This is no different. And although I know I didn’t actually expect magic to be real, that’s not really an excuse. Nor is the fact that I made the decision under a sense of time-pressure and hungover. I’m better than that. Or I should be, at least.

I sigh, my shoulders slumping, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Well. I made the decision, and now I’m trapped somewhere with no way to go home, completely at the mercy of nature and whatever these items are. I suppose I’d better make sure I know everything I can about the situation in which I find myself, even if it feels a bit like locking the door after the horse has bolted. Still, I might find out that it’s not quite as bad as I think – maybe the letter will say that there’s a city beyond this valley that I need to get to or something.

Picking up the crunched piece of paper from where I had thrown it in my tantrum, I smooth it out once more, continuing to read.

Energy is found in all things, even on your original world. On your world, however, there was such a minimal density of it that you could not even detect its presence. On my world, Energy is sufficiently present for it to be an essential part of life. Relevant to you at this moment are Classes and magic. It is why the stones I have sent you are so useful: the Class stone gives you the Tamer Class and all the advantages that come with this; the knowledge stones allow you to instantly absorb knowledge of a subject, up to a certain limit; the Skill stone instantly gives you access to a Skill outside your Class set which you can then use immediately. All of this is only possible because of our ability to use Energy. As, of course, is my ability to contact you originally, and pull you part of the way towards my world.

Why only part of the way?

For one simple reason: the amount of Energy to pull you all the way is enormous. It would take me some time to gather and, frankly, I would need to know that you were worth neglecting all my other responsibilities for the task. As I said at the beginning, it is far more efficient to combine a test of your worthiness with the practicality of paying for your journey.

To be completely blunt, you need to collect sufficient Energy before the year is up otherwise the spell will take its due regardless. Given the distances involved, this would most likely cost you your life. As the anchor and initiator of the spell, I would be held partially accountable for your debt should you arrive in my world without having fully paid it, so you can see that it is also in my interests that you gain in strength.

I stop reading for a moment, staring sightlessly over the top of the letter. Great, from bad to worse, I say to myself bitterly. Not only do I need to survive here for a year, but I can’t even plan on just finding a hiding spot and becoming a hermit. No, I actually have to do something to gather ‘Energy’ or I’ll be signing my death-warrant anyway. Feeling sick again, I look back at the letter. Better get it over and done with so at least I know what I’m dealing with.