1.1.8 : Beyond Limits

 

 

They flinch and roar, enraged, together and their leader lunges to engage me again, pissed off beyond words. We cross blades and I give him a confident smirk for answer. I guess these gobbies will never change. If they ever did, I’d be afraid for the first time in a long time. 

The sound of metal ringing on metal fills the air. To my left and behind, one of the gobbie comes at me, and the other of them still seems intimidated. Aware of my surroundings, I deftly redirect a stab from the leader over my shoulder and wait while his sword runs through the throat of that goblin, neatly dispatching that one for me. 

Annoyingly, at the same time, the attacking gobbie’s sword rams through my side, but the leader’s blade neatly severs the brainstem of that gobbie, as I hoped. Making use of that moment of surprise flashing on the leader’s face to act, while pain messages flash through my brain, I spin and with an overhand slash, my blade severs the goblin leader’s head from his body. His head flies across the room to wetly thump against a wall that I’m currently unable to see, but the splash of blood on it briefly illuminates the part it hit. 

While the leader’s head remains visible for a while, as the bodyheat left in it dissipates as glowing blood puddles on the cavern’s floor around it, they both slowly vanish. The sixth and final goblin hesitates and after a moment sweating, it breaks into a run for the exit, shrieking. 

With a grimace, I dart after the critter, taking a moment to wrench the sword sticking from my side to throw it across the cavern. Nothing crucial seems to have been pierced, but I’m still bleeding. Now I’m on a timer. I fucking hate those kinds of situations. Hmmm… That girl’s fast asleep at the entrance. Little bastard might take a moment to finish her off if I’m not hot on its heels. 

Dashing after with my sword held low and ready to chop the bastard’s legs out from under it, blood trickles too heavily from my side, leaving a trail of it down the gullet of the cavern. My side starts aching as I run, but used to pushing through such pain, my strides lengthen.

As we lunge up the passageway in our chase, there’s a faint sensation of something leaching from my mind. My eyes blink and I wonder if the sword that ran through me was poisoned. 

Nah. Probably not. It’s not in their nature to use poisons. They don’t have enough sophistication for that. Their swords are in such bad condition that you can get an awful infection from ‘em. Blood loss on its own might explain it, but I’ve never felt anything like it.

I’ve taken worse in other quests before, even bad enough to be near death, but never have I felt like something was draining from my brains. Pursing my lips, I dismiss the thoughts with an annoyed expression, seeing that we’re nearing the exit.

Unable to see the light shining in through the cave’s entrance, I can feel the wind blowing through my hair. Readying my sword to cut, I change my mind and throw my arm back. I know that might easily cost me my sword if the gobbie gets away, but I know one thing. That woman’s life must be preserved. I can’t say why I feel that way. Oddly enough, without any hesitation, I whip my arm back and throw my blade. 

With a burst of wind magick energy imbued in it at the moment of throwing, it launches forward and skewers through the chest of the fleeing goblin. With a wince, I know right away that I’ve missed its vitals. This is the worst case scenario. 

It screams loudly, clutching its chest as its legs churn even faster while the guard of my sword slams into its back. As it passes the prone body of the woman, she bursts into sudden motion and throws herself around the legs of the fleeing goblin. The beastie slams forward and the point of my sword sags and snags as my sword neatly eviscerates him, gutting him and most likely severing his spinal cord, taking out several crucial organs along with the bargain. 

Steaming blood spills from its fatal wound across the rocks, shining in my eyes as it drips and cools, running down to wash under the woman’s body. I come to a stop, panting and clutch at my side with a heavy sigh.

* * * * * * *

The white mists part and my head is left to feel somewhat fuzzy. 

With a jerk, I wake, feeling a certainty that my life is in danger if I don’t act. For a while since my eyes met this man’s eyes, I knew that I would finally be safe. In relief, I lost all my energy, passing out to dream.

Did I just dream about what I thought it would be like to kill the goblins that captured me? Or did I really watch Vayne kill them from the back of his head? Did I really get to see what it was like to be him? It was satisfying to watch them die one by one, but… 

Taking deep breaths, I soberly think about what I saw and felt in his shoes.

Now I think I know what it's like. The feeling of going places that I never could in my boring, hard modern life in Tokyo.

If this is a strange and lurid dream, I’m back in Tokyo and have nothing to worry about here… except for possibly dying thanks to a gunshot and blood loss… There’s a possibility that I’ll somehow pull through it, but…  Did that voice say that I was dead? I don’t think so… so maybe…

I sigh heavily, shaking my head tiredly. But then, maybe this is reality and there’s no way back. Which? If it’s not, my new reality is far darker and more evil than I could ever have imagined. Man-eating goblins—beastkin? Swords and magic?

My eyes fill with tears as I think about everything I’ve seen and felt so far. 

My depressed thoughts are interrupted by the sound of boots clanking heavily on the stone floor of the passageway, mixed with another thudding pitter pattering of feet that sounds like repeated slapping. Are these all just harmless dreams that I’ve been having? What should I do? Is it even possible for people to have dreams inside dreams?

As much as I want to stay down and hide from their impending conflict, knowing how it ends, I know that I need to act soon or die. The certainty of my mortality in this moment fills me with purpose and spurs me into action. Don’t hide, hero. Fight!

Damn it! I’m not a fucking hero! Get lost! I’m just going insane!

As the footsteps pass me, I make my choice. My whole body aches with pain, shaky and shuddering, my arms particularly trembling. My bleeding has stopped, but my wounds still sting any time I move and they threaten to break open. What once was beautifully smooth skin on my dirty arms hangs off redly here and there in shreds. I can see my meat with dirt mashed in. 

It’ll get infected if I don’t get it treated! 

Moonlight bathes my upper body, shining through the cavern’s mouth.

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My hands seem to have escaped much of the damage the rest of my body took, looking somewhat tougher, thanks to all the washing and chores that Halima had to do back in her village, not that her hands can compare with her mother’s own knobby digits. Seeing a green flash of movement to my right as the goblin passes me, I throw myself at its legs and wrap my aching arms around them, holding as tight as I’m able, using all the strength I can muster. With some satisfaction, I feel the moment when he falls forward and the loud clanking of the point of Vayne’s sword digging into the ground as he falls forward onto the gravel-filled incline. The sound of its head striking hard on the rocks is particularly satisfying, combined with the squishing noise of his guts being cut up. A flood of relief fills me now that it’s over for now… at least until his blood starts pouring down from his prone body to spill around me, surrounding me with the stench of his ichor. The hot blood clings to me, thick and nasty.

 I scream in newly discovered horror, letting go.

Moments later, my legs are grabbed and I’m hauled through the mess and out of the stream of blood, leaving streaks going down the passageway. My screaming gets louder and louder and the passageway grows darker and I weakly kick my legs, crying. Damn it, no!

“Calm down,” Vayne says, panting, letting go of me. “Relax. You’re safe, girl. Just SHUT UP!”

My lips clamp around my screaming. Heaving a sigh of relief, glad that it’s not another goblin pulling me deeper into the cavern, Vayne helps me into a sitting position. He kneels beside me and presses a hand to his bloody side as he mutters under his breath. He chants under his breath and his gauntleted hand starts glowing. I can’t see anything of what’s happening under his armor, but I get the sense that his flesh is knitting itself, although a puckered scar is left behind. Shaking my head, I look away, feeling ill.

“Cat got your tongue, eh?” Vayne asks laconically. “Traumatized, I suppose. I don’t blame you. You’re damned fortunate to even be breathing.”

Remaining silent, I reject everything, refusing to believe that all this could be real, no matter how it feels. Traumatized? Am I traumatized? Fucking idiot.

“Of course you are,” he says to me, firmly taking my arms, examining my dirty and painful wounds.

“Let’s start by healin’ these.” Both of his gauntlets are bitterly cold and bloody as I am, but as he extends his hands, magick energy surrounds them in a nimbus. I watch as his magick’s aura climbs up my arms, wreathing up my arms to knit the flesh back to normal, putting things back where everything belongs. As he works, the pain subsides and the region feels soothed. When the work is done, I notice that there are slight scars left behind. 

His eyes look me up and down and his eyes linger over my dirty nude body.

I’m a man on the inside, but I flinch and cover my breasts with an arm, suddenly self-conscious. “They must’ve torn off your clothes. Did they hurt you any more than I can see?” His eyes are disinterested, almost clinical, not truly interested in whatever answer I might give. The disinterested look in his eyes puts me a bit more at ease in one way. He isn’t having any strange lustful thoughts about me as far as I can tell...  

“Your throat,” he reaches for it. “I spy a slice here also.” 

Visions of many hands reaching for my throat fills my mind and I reflexively jerk back. Vayne’s eyes narrow and instead he strikes me across my face. The cold metal encasing his hand makes it feel all the harder. I stagger from the slap, gasping. 

Vayne growls, saying, “Fucking idiot, I’m just healin’ you.” I couldn’t help seeing his grasping movement as a threat, even though I know from riding along in his head that this man doesn’t kill anyone that he’s not paid to except for monsters and goblins. Not generally.

His magick’s aura surrounds his gauntlet a last time as he heals my aching and sore throat. I can’t see where I was cut to know for sure, but I have a feeling that his healing ability is so crude that it’ll always leave scars, whether the spell saves a life or the injury is superficial.

“We need to get you some clothes sometime soon. Stay put. I’ll look below to see if any of their other victims still have anything on them for you to wear.”

Looking into Vayne’s eyes, I hesitate to reject an order from him, but shake my head saying, “I want to come along.”

Vayne’s eyes flash hotly with his anger. “Just do as I say, idiot. There’s nothing down there a girl ought to see.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t already seen,” I say with a queasy expression, turning my head to vomit after experiencing a wave of nausea at his reminder of what lay below. With saliva still leaking from my chin, I look up at Vayne again with a determined expression.

With a wince, Vayne steps away and sighs. “I guess you’ve seen a mite at that. Don’t subject yourself to the sight of more blood and entrails. Leave cleaning up to me, woman. I’ll burn the bodies just as soon as I find some suitable garb for you.”

Coughing, I spit up what’s left of whatever Halima had for breakfast. In this condition, it doesn’t look like anything I recognize. With a wrinkled nose, thanks to the new awful smell filling the barely moving air here, I push myself to my feet and shake my head again. “I’m tired, but I… I’m not useless and… I’m not… My name isn’t ‘woman’.”

I was about to say that I’m not a woman, but there’s no way I can claim otherwise when we’re both painfully aware of the fact that I am, though my mind is male.

“Pride, huh?” Vayne sneers at me. “Pride’s useless to the weak. Nothing but a detriment. Pilgrim, if you’d prefer. We’ll find you some nice and cozy village to wait in for your death if you prefer.”

“No!” I growl. “I’m not a pilgrim. I never have been one. I’m Ha…” Haku or Halima? Which name should I give him? Haku is a man that lives in Tokyo and Halima is a downtrodden, abused and weak girl that lived in a pilgrim’s community that doesn’t exist anymore. Pinesdale was its name. The name of the community floats up in my brain, seemingly from nowhere like an answer in an 8-ball fortune-telling toy. 

Who am I supposed to be?

“Ha?” Vayne asks with an amused expression. “You cracking up from all the stress?”

“Maybe,” I snap at Vayne with a peevish tone. “Call me Hana.” 

I’m not Halima nor Haku right now, so Hana will do for now.

“Sounds a bit far-eastern for that local-lookin’ face of yours.” Vayne says, chortling as he shakes his head. “Your head’s full of adventure books? You dream of being an adventurer, then? Maybe that's why you’ve gone and picked such a fake-ass foreign-sounding name to give me.” He glares at me.

I shrug off his scathing look and look firmly into his eyes with determination, saying nothing. Taking my silence, he turns his eyes away from me and starts down the passageway. Tiredly, I follow him, leaning heavily on the near wall as I focus on taking one step after another with my legs trembling.