To Save a World Ch. 04

"But then -- disaster struck." He intoned, his low voice carrying such doom and sorrow that even Lydia gasped as Aaron whispered the meanings into her ear, "It was a violent storm. The sun was losing its last flimsy rays and darkness was beginning to take hold. Light and sound fell down from the sky -- a blinding, deafining boom -- as if the heavens themselves cracked open -- smiting the Heart Tree and quickly engulfing the branches with fire. The Sky Treader was felled down from the heavens by the spirits, swatted aside like flies.

We boast of our strength that can slay thousands, we boast our magics that can bend every tree of the forest to our will -- but there was no one to kill, there was nothing to destroy in revenge for what has happened. There was nothing to do but bow to the will of Nature.

The Clan understands this, also. But we knew that living forth despite this disaster is resistance to this otherworldly will. And so, with the defiance that took us to live among the skies, as soon as dawn broke over the horizon the Heads and the Guide rallied the remaining by flesh, heart and by their tails -- and marched them to the second lesser stronghold of Kuran Ghruama; the Grim Tree."

There was a pause as Trasnu took the time to savor a bite from his orange-apple fruit, his eyes lost in the recent past. "But the hounds of misfortune had marked us as prey, and so another disaster befell us. It wasn't even a very clever ambush -- not really. They hid in wait; not in the tall trees above, for our heads were craned in hope, nor were they hidden in the forest, for our sharp eyes were spread in fear. No, they hid in the ground, in cowardly, watery holes that hid their sight and scent. I don't know for how long they'd been lying there in wait -- they could not have predicted the fall of the Heart Tree, but it was a common enough hunting path for us that we've no doubt they must've spotted us, if they were truly diligent.

And so it was. We were one of the advanced scouting party, leading several hundred strong of wet, tired and miserable men, women, children and elderly behind us -- being wet, tired, and miserable ourselves. We were lax and they were well prepared with exploding nets and concealing magic, with blinding smoke and swift, cowardly fucking feet."

He shrugged, seeming to come out of a trance, as if the act of remembering drained the colors in the vivid image he was painting up unto that point. "Well, the rest is as they are. Originally, seven of us were caught. Two of us; Seyann and Beritt, passed away while we were captive. Five of us from the scouting group lived."

"But there were eight of you, including Serche and the two she was with."

"Ah, yes. An epitome of Rakan pride. They could not accept that humans had bested them in their own land, so a party of another five of the best soldiery and our apprentice rushed to our aid without food, water or rest." He took a huge, crunchy bite of his fruit, the juices flowing down his chin and dripping to the ground. "Guess what happened to them."

Serche seemed to sit a little smaller.

"It was foolishness. Utter stupidity. The humans were not amateurs, the spirits know where they've been to and what they've been through. They had confusing magics in wooden sticks, concealment magic that erased all of their presence from our senses." Serche shook her head remorsefully. "Had I thought about it, all this would probably have stopped me from pursuit. But no, I didn't think at all."

"It wasn't even a proper fight." She murmured, her low voice full of emotion. "I vowed to myself never to repeat it should I be given another chance. I can only pray that no one was foolish enough to follow us, that the bulk of the Clan reached Kuran in peace."

'Wow, this got really heavy all of a sudden.' He almost forgot to translate for Lydia, who was practically begging him with her eyes right beside him.

She gasped as he finished recounting their circumstances as best as he could. "But that's awful." She said, her eyes wide and brimming with sympathy. Aaron shook his head, marveling at the innocence and genuine care. 'Tell me again that this woman grew up in the streets.'

"But then we got a second chance," Serche suddenly said with conviction, "You have to understand what this means to us, Aaron. Do you know what a slave collar does? It's like a metal wedge in your head -- it invades, it grabs and crushes all your thoughts, your feelings, and if you so much as think of doing something not to your master's will -- pain. Pain, do you understand? There is no other way to describe it. Pure pain."

"Imagine a day of that. Imagine a week. A year. Imagine our whole lives. Imagine that -- imagine what our freedom means to us, and then tell me that our pledge to serve you for as long as we live is not necessary."

Aaron swallowed, feeling the intensity of her words. It meant a lot to her, he knew that. But lifelong servitude? It was something he couldn't wrap his head around -- and he didn't deserve any of it.

"I don't -- No, I said! I am not taking your freedom lightly, but it wasn't me, okay? I just -- hell, I just had sex with her, and then she got her magic and made the whole place sleep!" Why can't they understand?

He felt a hand touch his arm, and his gaze snapped to Lydia. A sense of calm passed through him, a cooling blanket, gently wrapping around his confused, angry mind. He blinked -- he had no idea how agitated he was becoming. Beads of sweat were actually forming on his forehead.

The young man took a deep breath. "Yeah. Okay -- sorry for freaking out. I guess I'm not as stable as I thought. Anyway, as I had said; I'm not the one responsible for your freedom. Again -- I'm not minimizing the importance of your freedom, and if you feel responsible to pay it back in worth, then so be it.

But you should be paying your debt to Lydia here. Nothing -- and I mean, literally nothing, could have been done without her."

"But --"

"Look, why are you so against it? Is it because she is a woman? Is it because she's half noon-demon or whatever the hell she is? Is it just because she does not look like someone who can save?"

Serche was taken aback by the question. Why indeed had she assumed that he was the one who must receive the pledge? She thought back to when she was freed; she had assumed that he was responsible for everything because of his charisma, because he spoke their language, and because the woman acted subservient towards him. He carried an air of easy competence, challenged as it seemingly was by his strange lack of basic information and bouts of agitation.

There was no denying that the man Aaron was special; but if what he said was true, then he would have been powerless on his own. The demon-touched power of the woman beside him was apparently the critical point of their escape.

"I -- ah, you're right. I apologize." Serche said for the hundredth time that day. She can't seem to get anything right.

"What's happening?" Lydia asked with a small voice, tugging Aaron's sleeve. She'd been observing wide-eyed from the sidelines, fascinated with their rhythmic speech.

"This woman -- Serche -- was about to pledge a blood debt to me. She thought I was the one responsible for their lives. I refused, and told them that you deserve the pledge, instead."

Lydia stared at him. "I don't want it."

"What?" Aaron exclaimed, disbelieving.

"I don't want it. What am I going to do with it?"

"I don't know. They're very useful, they'd help you -- I don't know." Aaron flailed around helplessly.

"Why don't you want it?"

"Because I don't deserve it?"

"But you do!" Lydia exclaimed with wide eyes. "You gave my -- my source for my magic. You distracted Shizo. You were the one who decided to break all of our seals instead of just running away on your own. Plus, you carried Silver all the way to the forest, even while we were under attack -- at the expense of your own life."

"Silver?"

"Oh -- I mean, Ser-she. It's what I call her." Lydia sheepishly said.

"You pronounce it Serche. Not so stiff."

"I like Silver better." She mumbled under her breath. "Anyway, you get the pledge. I don't want it."

"Wha- it's not something like... that! It's probably not something that you can just refuse."

Lydia frowned. "Isn't that what you were doing in the first place?"

Stumped, Aaron helplessly looked back and forth from Lydia to Serche. Even the wolf woman is now trying to hide a smile, making him wonder if they weren't somehow conspiring behind his back, despite the very obvious language barrier. "But... I don't want it." He further whined.

"Oh, shush." Lydia admonished. She looked across Aaron to Serche and said, quite conversationally. "Sorry for that! He'll take the pledge now."

Aaron glanced miserably at a grinning Serche.

"So?" the silver haired woman asked, "What happened?"

"Ugh. I'll take the pledge." The young man groaned, burying his face in his palms.

Serche beamed a victorious grin. And that was that.

Aaron endured the embarrassment. The conversation proceeded with Lydia's introduction, with Aaron asking permission from the woman before he told the rest of their party her story. The young man was not as great a storyteller as Trasnu, but he held their attention all the same, making sure to convey the demon-touched young woman's plight.

He might have exaggerated a little bit with her charms, given the rueful smiles that his beastmen companions seemed to be suppressing, but he would be the first to admit that he was biased. An extraordinarily perceptive Lydia endured the awkwardness at his side, signaling her embarrassment with a diverse repertoire of choice eye rolls, pinches and pokes.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Serche said compassionately after Aaron finished his narration. "You've lived a life you didn't deserve."

Lydia looked at the ground after Aaron's translation, shrugging. "Happens to everyone. To you, too. Doesn't really matter now, anyway."

Serche nodded. An admirable little thing, she thought, her eyes appraising.

"Now it's my turn," Aaron sighed. Everyone looked at him with eager eyes. He thought it through one last time. There was no harm in telling them -- by the context that he grasped from the magician Tar's message, no one was out for his blood, so revealing his identity was not really a risk. To the contrary, it would be good for his conscience to finally explain himself, as well as build trust among his group.

That was really all it came down to, anyway. Though he could think of no immediate risk, he was in a new, foreign world; the laws, principles and commonsense of which was still hidden to him. They could have a burning hatred for summoned people, for all he knew. So the question really was just; did he trust them?

He absentmindedly rubbed the scar on his chest, below his collarbone. It hadn't pierced his lung, but it was more than lethal enough. Only unknown, dubious luck had saved him. That, and his companions -- Serche and Lydia. So, it wasn't even really a question.

"Well, you're not going to believe me," he started slowly, speaking in the Forest Tongue "But I was summoned from another world."

He repeated it in Lydia's language, and watched as she followed suit in goggling at him. The three stared at him with wide, expectant eyes. And then stared some more.

"And?" Trasnu exclaimed impatiently, "Well, don't just stop there! Get on with the story, boy!"

Embarrassed, Aaron cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, of course. So. I can't... really tell you much. I have no memories of my personal life from the world I was in. When I first arrived, Tar -- the magician that brought me here -- explained to me that he brought me here out of his own prerogative. He seemed genuinely sorry that he had to do it, although I can't really tell for sure, since the man was, well, dead. He told me a bunch of other things, but it basically amounted to; you're going to live here now. You can't go back. And some really bad thing will happen soon, but you don't have to do anything.

And I think he removed all of my memories in the process. I can't remember anything of my own life. But I still remember things about where I came from. I have the knowledge about... many things, in fact. So yes. I live in a different world. Somewhere very, very different. A world where magic doesn't exist, where humanity is the only sentient race -- so far, where science has taken us to step into the moon and beyond."

Serche and Trasnu, understandably, were practically bursting with questions. He signaled them to keep it together, realizing that Lydia was patiently waiting for her translation. Damn this is hard, he thought. But on he went.

And so he told them all he can about his world. Trasnu was much intrigued by the concept of cars, airplanes, ships, guns and the advances of tools of war, space travel. But what really spurred his interest was Aaron's mention of the Olympics, and from there the culture surrounding the different kinds of martial arts. The different kinds, the tournaments and competitions. Aaron got the impression of telling a grandfather the joys of the internet for the first time; revealing the things that he could do, the untapped potential of the vast network that he has absolute access to -- only to settle for playing online poker.

Serche, on the other hand, was fascinated about a world with no magic, of the explosion of inventions and innovations, where science illuminated fundamental facts about the world they lived in. That the stars were burning balls of gases; that the world -- at least his world -- was a giant, delicate, terrestrial ball that rotated on another, bigger, brighter, hotter ball of something, and that they all hung upon nothing. That almost made her faint, and it hurt his brain to dig up science fundamentals and relay it to her like free candy.

And yet Lydia's questions were the hardest to answer. Lydia was interested in his world's lifestyle, the ease and absolute security of his day-to-day life. She drank in details that he took for granted; that resources were so abundant that food and water came from convenience stores, that you could buy almost everything, learn almost everything.

But she was also curious about him; who he was, what he did, what kind of life he lived. He struggled to give her an idea of what could have been him; maybe a normal kid in his senior year, who played videogames and maybe a little bit of sports, who was hung up on girls and cars and the impending existential doom of adulthood.

By the end of it, Aaron felt like a wrung up rag.

"Hmph! I still don't believe it. A whole world, floating on nothing! Unless you can come up with a better explanation than that, I absolutely refuse to believe it." Serche demanded, crossing her arms below her ample breasts.

Aaron groaned. "I don't want to make you believe. I don't really care. It's just the facts where I come from. This world could be floating in cheese, for all I care."

"But... do you really not have any memories of yourself?" asked a timid Lydia.

"Yes. And it's pointless to wrack my head over it. There are other things to worry about."

She looked at him sympathetically. Their beastmen companions also turned somber, perhaps sensing the mood.

"Do you have any idea why you were called?" Trasnu inquired.

Aaron shook his head. "The guy who brought me here said something about not really having any particular quest. He told me to live as I liked, make ripples and cause waves and some other vague bullshit, to prepare for some other, vaguer calamity. I've decided not to worry about it, for the time being."

Trasnu laughed "An excellent choice! We do have other things to worry about -- like what exactly are we going to do from now on? You do realize we're smack in the middle of the Great Forest, don't you?"

"Yep! I also realize that I have no idea what to do whatsoever, so I'm going to leave that part to you guys."

"Ha!" The old beastman laughed once again. "I like you, lad. You are worthy to be called this Old Hunter's Master!"

"Oh, leave off the Master bit or I'll smack your face." Aaron winced.

"As you wish, Whiny Brat."

Aaron looked at the old hunter in surprise, but he was already walking away. "I'll go and get us some food! Be back soon, keep that fire going for me, will ya?"

"I'll go with you," Serche said, getting up after the hunter.

* * *

"Well, there they go." Aaron sighed, watching as the two fantastical creatures disappear into the forest. "Man, what a day, and it's not even noon yet."

"Mm." Lydia agreed. She got up and rummaged around the ground beside the fire, looking for fruits that the old beastman might have left behind. Finding one, she then then settled back with her find, subtly changing her position so that now she was in the middle of Aaron's legs.

Well, she thought with an inward giggle, maybe that wasn't too subtle after all.

The scheming young woman felt uncertain hands brush her shoulders, and her own fingers shot up and grasped the opportunity, taking hold of his arms and twining them about her neck. "Will this be fine?" She asked in a voice that didn't really need an answer. Settling into the hug, she took hungry bites on her fruit, savoring the food slowly.

Although the young woman was still undoubtedly cautious around the wolf people, she felt infinitely bolder with just the two of them. She felt a degree of familiarity and comfort around Aaron that might have been borne out of the difficult situations that they had just recently overcome. It was all the more apparent to her, now, that the trust wasn't misplaced -- and that, even more, Aaron was a special, mysterious existence that would show her wonderful things.

That, and the memory of their recent, passionate coupling was still fresh in her mind. And her loins. Lydia squirmed, biting her lip.

The revelations that she had just heard were shocking, of course. More than shocking. She surmised from the reaction of her companions that the world that Aaron came from was something truly incredible, and perhaps knowing that there are other worlds out there ought to change someone's view of life. Not for her, though. She didn't really understand all that complicated stuff.

What she knew, though, was that the man Aaron was something more incredible than she had ever imagined. Not only was he competent, intelligent, kind and handsome -- but she also literally owed him her life, her freedom. Even if she wasn't herself, she would still swoon over such gallantry.

But she was herself. In her blood ran the blood of the dusk, the time of feasting and merriment and passions. In her blood readily courses desire, and there is no one nearly so desirable as Aaron behind her, his curly black hair not long enough to completely cover his face hanging, but long enough to drape. Certainly long enough to run her little fingers through, to grip with her hands. A long, elegant neck that she could nuzzle forever, the strange markings running on his nape adding an arcane touch to his look. His eyes, his magical, glinting eyes.

This was a man important enough to be summoned from another world. This was a man competent enough to save her life, and to save the life of others. The fact that she holds the attention -- and perhaps even affection? -- Of such a creature warmed Lydia's blood to no end.

And now she felt so hot she was squirming.

"Are you okay?" His voice sent shivers down her spine. So kind, so caring, yet strong and firm.

Lydia finished her fruit in one decisive bite, throwing away the stem. She turned her whole body to face him in one smooth motion, taking him by surprise. Her hands lightly rested on his chest, her delicate face upturned to face his, kneeling as she was right before him.