Over twenty minutes had passed with Jack lying in the hollow beneath the fallen tree’s roots. He was waiting to see if the other adventurers had followed him and the rogue. His only company was the cooling corpse of the rat-faced rogue and what felt like hundreds of bugs which crept all over him. Damp soil clung to his clothes, and the scent of moss and forest decay filled his nostrils.

  To help calm his nerves, he opened his interface and stared at his Apprentice Scribe level.

  [Class Screen-Internal View]

  Class: Apprentice Scribe (50)

  Compatibility: 67%

  …

  His Class Compatibility had dropped a small amount due to minor injuries and exhaustion.

  I’ll be a Journeyman Scribe this time tomorrow, he thought to calm his panic. He used [Perfect Recall] to picture the new skills he’d have.

  Journeyman Primary Skills

  [Ward Inscription] Write protective runes on most surfaces, including doors, armour, or skin.

  [Binding Oath] Inscribe contracts that magically enforce promises.

  [Mnemonic Glyphs] Write symbols that trigger memory recall in the reader.

  [Cartographic Illusion] Maps that update themselves as terrain changes.

  [Protect Script] Write text that can only be read under moonlight, firelight, or under other specific conditions.

  Jack’s body ached from the frantic sprint through the forest and the vicious struggle with the rat-faced rogue. He was covered in small cuts and bruises, and his left side burned with a relentless throb. Half an arrow was still lodged in his side; the iron head had snapped off in the skirmish, lost somewhere in the grass and wildflowers. The front of his body, however, betrayed his injury; the arrow shaft jutted out, the feathers soaked in blood and dirt.

  Reading through the potential new scribe skills helped with the anxiety of waiting. Despite his injuries and the damn bugs crawling under his clothing, his breathing was shallow and controlled. Any louder, and they’d hear him.

  None of the skills are useful in killing Greaves. Fuck! And I won’t be able to use them at the Library. Jack had realised that as a Novice Scribe, he wouldn’t be able to show his Journeyman Scribe skills. Fuck! I might have to…

  His deliberations were cut short by branches cracking somewhere in the forest.

  “…think they came this way,” a woman’s voice said, muffled by foliage but growing clearer.

  “You said that ten minutes ago,” came a deep, gruff irritated reply. “We’ve followed three deer trails and a fucking squirrel’s tracks.”

  Jack froze. His heart thudded in his chest, every beat a hammer blow against his ribs. At least two of them. He didn’t dare move. Fuck! He held his breath as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Should I have gone back to the city?

  After the fight with the rogue, he’d settled on the plan to hide in the root well of the fallen tree. He hoped to wait there until he’d regained enough strength to walk the four or so miles back to Lundun. Without knowing how far away the other five adventurers were, it was a prudent choice; they could’ve appeared within seconds of the fight’s conclusion or never come his way.

  The truth settled like a stone in his gut. No. I made the right choice. Even with a twenty-minute head start, he still wouldn’t have made it, not in this condition. If he’d tried to ‘run’, they’d have caught him before he’d got within sight of the city’s towers.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  The young woman’s voice drew closer. “I’m a healer, not a damn scout.” She scoffed. “That toothless fool ran off without us… I’d like to see you track people in a dark forest where dozens of adventurers pass by every day.”

  “Just find them, okay?” the large swordsman replied in his deep voice.

  “What’s the rush?” another young man added to the conversation. “Kyle’s probably hiding the kid’s body; he’ll meet us back at the tavern.”

  “Come on. Let’s head back. My leg’s killing,” the young woman Jack had heard earlier complained. Sounding annoyed, she added, “You saw the kid. Kyle won’t have problems with that weakling. He didn’t even have armour; just some brat playing adventurer on the weekend.”

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. They aren’t taking me seriously. He scanned the meadow where he’d fought with the ratty rogue, Kyle. Fading daylight painted the meadow in bronze and blue shadows, making it harder to see what had happened. The battlefield, if it could be called that, lay less than twenty feet away, a patch of disturbed grass and flattened wildflowers.

  “I’m sure they went this way,” the young female healer said, her voice closer now.

  The large swordsman replied, “We’ll search for five more minutes, then head back before dark.”

  Jack forced a smile. They’re close to giving up, and they don’t see me as a threat. Thank the Gods.

  A shadow moved; a young woman with short hair passed into his line of sight. She wore simple leather armour, a dagger at her side. She also carried a small pack marked with a red cross, indicating it contained a healer’s supplies.

  Jack’s fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger. If she spotted him, he’d have to strike first.

  Soon, the large swordsman came into view. His greatsword was sheathed on his back at a slight angle, with the seven-foot-long weapon protruded a couple of feet above his head.

  “Look…” the female healer said, pointing at the patch of meadow where Jack and the rogue had fought. “Something happened there.”

  Two more people emerged into Jack’s line of sight. The young woman with the injured leg, who was still hidden, complained, “Let’s head back. Kyle will meet us in Lundun.”

  “A few more minutes,” the large swordsman replied as he began moving towards the knee-high grass where Jack and the rogue clashed. “Do you think they fought here?” he asked, sounding unconvinced.

  “I don’t know… maybe?” the healer responded. “They could’ve fought here, but it might’ve been a herd of deer… or a couple going at it, for all I know.” She shrugged. “This area is heavily used. It’s hard to tell.”

  Jack smiled and tried to relax. They aren’t going to find me, he reassured himself. I’m safe. He’d read about the habits of deer and knew that their resting spots were marked by flattened grass. He’d seen it as he tracked deer through the forest. Come on… give up and go back to the city. He tried not to move as a large bug crawled over his face, forcing him to close his eyes. Get the fuck off me, you creepy fucker. His body shivered as the bug’s legs tickled his cheek.

  The injured woman came into view, her long blonde hair capturing the failing light. “Can we go? It’s late, and my leg’s killing me.”

  Over her simple leather armour, Jack could see a white bandage wrapped around her right leg; it was stained red with blood. Is she a mage? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t see any weapons. The goblin must have stabbed her.

  “Linda healed it,” the large man replied as he scouted around the area where Jack and Kyle had fought to the death. “You’ll be fine. Most of the pain’s in your head.”

  “In my head!?” the injured woman shot back. “Fuck you! What the hell do you know about the pain of a rabid goblin driving a filthy, rusty sword into your leg?”

  The swordsman ignored the outburst and continued to examine the disturbed area of the meadow.

  “Your leg will be fine, but it’s going to hurt for a few days… that’s normal.” Linda, their healer, explained while trying to placate the injured woman. “I’m not high enough level to heal a sword wound in minutes. I’ll heal the wound again when we get back to the city.”

  “There’s blood here,” the large swordsman said as he unsheathed his greatsword. “Fan out.”

  The five adventurers prepared for a fight while Jack held his breath. Fuck, he gripped his dagger as he braced himself to face five experienced adventurers. He was in no state to fight one, let alone five.