Last Life

A LOUD STACCATO SCREAM from the largest and oldest man instantly put an end to the panic and fussing. The women with baskets hurriedly ran behind the spearmen while the archers, with arrows already notched, looked all around through the leaves for a potential foe.

Trying not to make any sudden movements, I pushed my back up against the tree trunk. Not wanting the natives to sense I was looking at them, I closed my eyes and switched to true vision.

For some time, they stood perfectly still, just listening and sniffing the air.

A few minutes later, the one in charge said a clipped phrase and the group of natives moved off to the southwest in a hurried but organized fashion, leaving “my” glade behind. That must have been the direction of their settlement.

When the final lithe silhouette disappeared into the leaf cover, I wanted to move, but changed my mind before it was too late. Using true vision, I was able to see two figures standing perfectly still in the wall of bushes.

Based on their energy systems, it was the group leader and one of the archers. The commander was clearly aware that whoever exterminated the parasitic mushrooms was hiding among the leafy treetops. And that was easy to explain. My tracks on the ground clearly pointed to that.

The two of them waited in ambush for approximately half an hour, but then I saw the commander give the archer a light pat on the back, and both of them went off after the main group.

The natives’ relative lack of aggression gave me hope. They didn’t escalate the situation and try to all come hunt for me. The ambush I could excuse. It was an utterly logical move. They were covering their tribe’s retreat.

“Change of plans,” I whispered thoughtfully to myself and came out in the open. I couldn’t afford to leave the Shadow without at least a glimpse of the native settlement.

It had been approximately three hours since I saw the natives. All that time, I had been following them at a healthy distance.

Their commander tried another few half-hour ambushes on the trail, but eventually must have decided the coast was clear and stopped.

At one stopover, when the natives were resting for a short snack break, I managed to get closer and take a better look.

At first, I thought I was dealing with creatures the people on the frontier called Ghosts, but then I realized I could not sense the same eerie power that wafted off the Duke’s prisoner.

Scanning revealed that there was not a single mage in the group. However, their energy systems gave off a pale green glow. They must have been somehow connected with magic. Like the trees or bushes, for instance. The emerald magic was an inalienable part of their nature.

The stone arrow and spear tips, stone knives, leather loincloths and tunics, primitive jewelry made of fangs and shells — it was all evidence that these creatures were at a technological level equivalent to that of my world’s stone age. But despite that, they did not behave like savages. They had their own language which they spoke in fairly long sentences. They often made jokes and even sang songs. When nature called, they walked away from camp. Their meals were calm affairs, and they looked very tidy.

Around two hours later, the group of natives I was secretly following, joined up with another larger group. Now there were ten spearmen, eight archers and fifteen women with baskets, who I was calling “gatherers.”

The meeting was a joyous occasion. The women smiled genuinely while the men patted each other on the back. The second group clearly had better luck hunting. All their baskets were full of green mushrooms.

For the next few minutes, I watched the commander of “my” group say something with a lot of body language. Sometimes, he nodded at the baskets and back where they came from.

He must have been telling them what happened. The rest of his group nodded occasionally in time with his words.

None of the newcomers were mages, either. With a careful scan of their loot, I saw that all the mushrooms had already been cleaned. They found the bruts fairly quickly. It was hard to overlook the concentrated magic glow that emanated from the small sack hanging off the belt of the second group’s commander.

From the distance, it was hard to see the exact number of crystals, but there were clearly less of them than mushrooms. In all likelihood, the natives used the mushrooms only as a source of bruts. At any rate, I never saw them eating one.

When they stopped, the greenskins ate some kind of dried roots and little fruits they carried in their bags. Occasionally, both while traveling and at stopping points, they drank from small, elongated canteens that hung off their belts.

As far as I was concerned, the mushrooms were a real discovery. Yes, they were completely flavorless, but their flesh both sated hunger and slaked thirst.

“By the way...” I whispered with lips alone and started carefully unraveling the wide burdock-like leaf I had used to wrap up all the mushrooms I gathered. While the combined party of natives was resting, I needed to have a snack.

Back in the light glade, before leaving to follow the natives, I tore out some of the wide leaves and tied them up into a primitive sort of loincloth. I was now planning on going out to meet the natives, so I didn’t want to appear before them in my birthday suit. I had already long since taken off and discarded the ragged scraps my clothing had been reduced to.

Mechanically patting the second leaf bundle hanging off my belt woven out of thin vines, I nodded to myself and continued feasting. That bundle was where I was keeping the bruts I found.

The natives’ break didn’t last long, and they got back on the road.

While watching the group of greenskins closely, I also made sure to scan all the plants and animal life I came across. And that bore fruit.

Within an hour, while walking past a big, huge rotten stump covered with brown moss and reeking of decay, I saw something dart past out of the corner of my eye. My body reacted immediately. A quick roll to the right and, just where I had been a minute earlier, a large dark brown creature that looked like a toad the size of a big dog came in for a landing.

It clearly was not courageous enough to attack the large group of natives, but when it spotted me all alone, it must have decided, “why not?” Furthermore, the smell of ant acid had almost completely worn off while the thin layer of yellow liquid covering my body transformed into a dry film and started peeling.

My first thought was to run. But I scanned the toad’s energy system, saw a three-color reservoir, and concluded that I could not afford to miss this chance.

I didn’t give the toad a second chance to jump. Darting forward, I pinned its head to the ground with a sudden thrust of the bar and immediately rolled several yards to the side.

The creature’s dying agony didn’t last long. Just a few minutes later, I was extracting its reservoir with the tip of the bar. I made away with three bruts, each the size of a hazelnut. One crimson, one amber, and the largest brown.

Also, based on the high magic concentration in the amber brut, the toad was poisonous. Its glimmering skin was covered in a thick brown slime that made my hands turn red when I touched it. Beyond that, it was what smelled like decay, not the old stump like I thought. That explained why everything around was dead. Also why the natives walked suspiciously quickly past this section of path.

While watching the poison at work, I gave a satisfied chuckle. My energy system really rose to the challenge. The dozen amber bruts I absorbed the night before gave me high immunity to all local poisons. And that was just the start of what this new passive ability could do.

Considering it briefly, I drew a small mass of mana from the amber brut and fed it to my energy system. After that, running both hands over the toad’s slimy back, I started smearing my legs, chest and shoulders with the brown slime. It absolutely reeked, but practice had shown that that was tolerable compared to the creatures that lurked in this forest.

I caught up to the party of natives right when they were emerging from the forest. I stood at the edge, hiding in some bushes and taking in the view.

Right in the midst of the forest, stretching out like a big turquoise blot, there was a lake with a settlement of twenty huts lining its sandy shore.

The party’s arrival did not go unnoticed. People in the settlement started stirring. The natives I was tracking quickened their pace with shouts of joy and smiles. I saw the leader of the first group breathe a sigh of relief. A few of the men patted him on the back either in encouragement or gratitude. But clearly it was because he led the people home safe and sound.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand a thing they were saying. Knowing their language would have made my life a lot easier. I would have to explain myself with gesturing when we made first contact. Thankfully though, I had already watched their body language quite a lot and, for the record, it was not significantly different from how people outside the barrier communicated.

Because the settlement nearly intersected with the forest in a few places, I was able to watch them pretty easily. The returning gatherers were greeted with cries of joy.

The procession was led by a tall thin old man. His manner of dress was clearly different than everyone else’s. He wore a large piece of thin gray leather with a head hole in the middle. A few particularly long pieces of the shapeless gown trailed in the sand, leaving shallow trails wherever he went. In his right hand, he held a long wooden staff with a large emerald brut the size of a chicken egg mounted on it. Long gray hair cascaded over his narrow shoulders.

Ah, my first mage in the Shadow... And apparently the only one in this settlement. His energy structure was dark green and linked to a reservoir composed of three emerald bruts.

I gave a quiet snicker. Local gifted were apparently exactly the same as shadow mages. Based on the standard categories, the old man must have been strong with alchemy.

When he came around, people fell silent and respectfully made way. Then, when they were just a few paces from the returning natives, they went down on one knee and bowed their heads.

The gray-haired mage looked at every one of the bowed heads with a kind smile and said something softly.

Everyone called back with a joyous unison drone while some, most likely members of the gatherers’ families, ran over to embrace them.

An hour later, the settlement was dotted with smoky fires. The appetizing aromas of food being cooked over flame wafted into my nostrils. To honor the people who’d return with a rich harvest, they were throwing a festival. I heard dull rhythmic drum strikes and the sing-song whistle of flutes.

I breathed a heavy sigh, took out my last mushroom and sunk my teeth into its succulent, watery flesh.

The festivities went on until nearly the middle of the night. Then, the tired and happy natives left to go to their own huts.

All their homes were approximately the same size. Round, cone-shaped and made of light gray pelts with holes in the top for smoke to escape through, they looked like sails from afar.

The largest tent was in the middle of the village. It was not hard to guess who it belonged to. Next to the mage’s home towered a wooden column with elaborate patterns engraved all over it.

The shadow sun had long since fled the night sky, making way for a dim moon. Silence settled over the village, broken only by the occasional signal from the sentries. The forest behind me on the other hand came to life.

I got settled in for the night on the wide branching crown of a tall tree. While clambering up the trunk, I watched local fauna running every direction all around me with a smile. And of course! I was saturated with truly disgusting smells. A few times, I looked longingly at the smooth turquoise surface of the lake. Times like that, my skin started to sting and itch. Ahh... I’d love to make a running dive straight into it!

In the middle of the night, I shuddered and perked up my ears. I had the unshakable feeling something had changed. I glanced over at the village. All seemed quiet. I heard just short clicks. The sentries were on alert. Using a code to communicate.

But what was happening?

Then it hit me... The forest had gone silent and essentially frozen. I switched to true vision and looked closer. That got me nothing. I shrugged. I couldn’t see anything different.

So what was bothering me?

I turned my head toward the glade separating the wall of forest from the nearest hut. Silence...

But... Wait... What was that?

I looked closer. A few steps from the waist-high fence, I saw a short dark mound in the grass. Three feet away was another identical one. At first, I didn’t pay them any mind but then I realized that, just one hour ago, they were farther from the village.

My first thought was that it was an optical illusion caused by the moonlight. To test that, I stared at the suspicious hillock for a while. After a few minutes had passed, nothing in the clearing changed. I already wanted to stop with the nonsense and take a little rest when finally the hillock quietly moved two feet forward.

I even blinked a few times then noticed that the meadow came to life. Around twenty little mounds performed an identical maneuver.

Damnation! Too bad my “scanner” was worthless at this distance. Creatures of some kind had clearly set their sights on the sleeping village. And unfortunately for the natives, they didn’t have a high stockade wall, or even dogs... And the sentries were nowhere to be seen.

But a few minutes later, I realized I was wrong to slander them. Several shadows flickered between the huts and, a moment later, several round items went flying at the sneaking hillocks, landing on the ground with a squelch.

Suddenly, several dozen torches lit up along the fence, some of which went flying into the clearing. A moment later, the grass caught fire, bringing light to everything around.

I saw several dozen spearmen standing along the fence while the other residents started running out of the middle of the village with loud screaming. Where did they all come from? The sentries must have spotted the danger a while ago and quietly warned everyone.

I turned my gaze on the red flames engulfing the meadow. As if on cue, the hillocks all came to life. In reality, they were big, huge crustaceans that looked a lot like crabs, only the size of manhole covers.

Hissing and clacking their pincers, they all ran toward the village at once. Several of their backs caught fire and started smoking.

After a loud exclamation from the gray-haired mage, arrows and short spears went flying at the monsters. A minute later, the crabs looked like pincushions. A few of them tripped and fell to the ground, continuing to vainly flail their appendages, but most of them kept picking up speed.

The first crabs to reach the fence were greeted by warriors holding spears out in front of them. The heavy crustaceans, getting their mouths snagged on the sharp spear tips slowed down and, turning sideways, tried to reach the men with their wide pincers.

One of the natives got carried away by the fight and jumped over the fence. Two of the monsters immediately seized on his mistake. In a matter of seconds, the greenskin was torn to shreds while he wailed in pain. Their fresh meat secured, the crabs retreated. I could distinctly hear the slurping of flesh and crunch of breaking bones.

Meanwhile, encouraged by their brothers’ success, the other crabs pushed harder. And I again heard cries of pain and slurping sounds.

At a certain point, after pulling out several village defenders, the crabs fell back from the fence and feasted on the meadow.

Which was their big mistake. On the mage’s command, more of the round objects with flammable liquid went flying at them followed by torches. The crabs’ bodies started burning with renewed force. In an effort to get away from the omnipresent heat, they just spun in place. A few of them flipped onto their backs, limbs convulsing.

None of them even considered running back into the fight. The attack on the village choked. Based on how the natives were acting, this was not the first time they fought off crabs. I just couldn’t figure why they had yet to build even a basic wall around the village. After all, they were clearly familiar with the concept of fencing...

I heard triumphant cries from the village. The defenders ululated and shook their weapons. And right then, something none of them were apparently expecting happened.

A giant crustacean spilled out of the forest, smashing bushes and trees in its path. Loudly clacking a huge set of pincers, it stopped for a second. Only then could I truly appreciate its size. This behemoth was around three times larger than its brethren.

With a look around at the battlefield, the giant crab hissed out loud and raced toward the village.

“Welp...” I muttered to myself, coming down to a lower branch and pushing masses of emerald mana through my energy system. “I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to make first contact.”