"You speak Elvish?" she asked, her voice soft and wispy.

  I do?

  "Seems so."

  Although this was news to me, it again brought up the possibility that my lack of reading capability was an oversight on Justice's behalf. Why would the goddess grant me the ability to speak multiple languages, but leave me unable to read them? Though, considering the lackluster information provided during our initial meeting, I was hardly surprised.

  "Who are you?" she asked with a side-eyed glance.

  Of course, she didn't trust me. I looked like a blood covered maniac.

  "I'm Cyprus, an adventurer."

  "Where's your group?"

  "Well, Greymane is up on that hill." I pointed over her shoulder. "He doesn't fight, though."

  It didn't take a body language expert to see she was suspicious. She stayed in the back corner of the cage, weary of my presence. I found a small iron key in The Bandit Lord's pockets and unlocked the cage, but she hesitated coming out.

  "What's your name?" I asked.

  "Viessa," she said in a hushed voice.

  "Viessa, you're free to go."

  Hope gleamed in her emerald eyes for a split second before fear and uncertainty extinguished it.

  I turned my back and walked over to the tipped over wagon, praying my trap hadn't squashed another elvish prisoner. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Instead, I found broken bottles of imported wine and wrapped cheese wheels. I moved onto searching the undamaged smuggler's cart with the foolish expectation that I'd find some sort of painkillers or medicine. But all I got for my troubles were kegs of alcohol.

  Gentle footsteps pattered to my rear. Viessa was finally out of her cage, looking more quizzical than afraid.

  "How do you know our language?" she asked.

  "That's a question I can't answer."

  "Why are you letting me go? A human would never do that."

  "I guess you've only met shitty humans," I said, wincing as I opened a basket of perfume vials and dropped them on the ground before I straggled back over to The Bandit Lord's corpse.

  The injuries I sustained in battle wailed with each movement, my entire body on fire.

  "They enslave us and sell us for riches." She paused and cleared her throat. "What are you doing?"

  "Putting this dude's head in a basket and getting the hell out of here."

  Viessa squinted and said, "You're badly wounded, yet you just destroyed those vials of medicine."

  "That was medicine?"

  I would've kicked myself if I wasn't already in immense pain. I picked up Drayvoss' head and dumped it in the basket. It seemed the day couldn't get any worse.

  With a heavy sigh, I carried the basket over to the broken vials to determine if any of the medicine was salvageable.

  "What am I looking at?" I asked.

  Viessa kneeled and grabbed a cracked vial with a pulpy, yellow goo running out of it. "Your hand," she said.

  She poured a glob of the pungent liquid on it and aggressively rubbed it in.

  I clenched my teeth, wondering if she intended to hurt me until a numbing effect seeped in.

  "You still need to see a healer," she said. "It's strange you speak my language, but don't understand basic science."

  "I can't read or write, either."

  Ready to end the conversation and retrieve Greymane, I headed off the road toward the base of the hill.

  "You're leaving?"

  "Yeah."

  "Wait." She rushed to my side. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "Go home."

  Her slender hands tugged on my right arm, bringing me to a stop. I gazed coldly at her and she released her grasp, stumbling back.

  "There's a million humans between here and Onadell, I'll never make it."

  Damn it all to hell. The last thing I needed was a breathing bag of gold attached to my hip. One that needed to eat, sleep, and, worse of all, be protected.

  "You don't want my company," I said, and pointed to the heap of corpses. "Besides, I'm heading back to Ingcaster. A human city."

  "Please," she said. "I won't cause trouble, look."

  She tucked her pointed ears underneath her flowing silver hair.

  "Great, you look like a human. You don't need my help."

  Viessa relented, casting her gaze at the ground. A single tear dripped down her cheek, like she was one of the last Native Americans watching a westerner build a Chuck E. Cheese on their sacred land. I tried to walk away. She'd be better off without me. But that goddamned sadness in the elf's eyes reminded me too much of her.

  "Fine, you can accompany me."

  Her ears perked up through her silver locks, and I sighed.

  "First, take this," I said, wincing as I took off my bloodied cloak. "Keep the hood up."

  She nodded, awaiting further instruction.

  "Go up the hill and get Greymane for me."

  She scuttled by, making haste up the hill while I returned to the smuggler's carts and rummaged through them for anything of value. My broken hand still throbbed, but at least it no longer felt like it was cooking on a skillet. By the time Viessa returned, riding Greymane down the hill, I had gathered a few bottles of what looked like expensive alcohol and tucked them in Greymane's pack.

  "You didn't tell me Greymane was a horse," she said.

  "Of course he is. Now see if you can't track down one of their horses that wandered off. Then gather as many valuables as you can carry from the wreckage."

  Viessa set off on Greymane and I nearly collapsed. I must've reached my stamina's limits and was most likely a bad wasp sting away from death. Practically everyone warned me about Drayvoss which should've tempered my expectations. This outcome was leagues better than the alternatives. I sat down and drew a quick breath, slowly regaining my energy.

  Reckless fool.

  Viessa returned faster than I expected with one of the bandit's horses and loaded it up with sacks of loot from the smuggler's stash. Gritting my teeth, I mounted Greymane and spat a bloody ball of saliva to my side.

  "Are you sure you can ride in that condition?"

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  "I'm fine."

  The painful ride back to Vaulter had me daydreaming of health potions and healing spells. Perhaps my overzealous approach was foolish. Despite the warnings, I still waltzed headfirst into trouble, driven by the thrill of the hunt. It was too close of a call and certainly not worth the two gold reward I was on my way to collect. Worse than the severe injuries was my newfound acquaintance.

  The elf's existence posed too many problems. Hopefully, after selling our loot, I'd be able to afford this world's version of a plane ticket and get her on a first-class flight back to Elf Land. I didn't need the attention she'd bring or the responsibility of babysitting.

  Thankfully, we rode in silence and reached Vaulter's perimeter by early afternoon. I paid the guard 4 silver coins, and we passed through the gates into the town. While the guard did comment on my miserable state, he barely even glanced at my hooded companion, nor did he care about the dismembered head poking out from in my woven basket. He was even nice enough to give me directions to Vaulter's resident healer.

  We kept off the main streets, cutting through alleys until we found a dilapidated shack sitting in the southwest corner of Vaulter that matched the guard's description. Rusty nails barely held together the rotten wood, yet a sign hung on the window with a series of foreign text that ended with two English punctuation marks.

  :)

  My nostrils flared as I re-read the sign, my throat suddenly felt hoarse as I focused in on the closely punctuated semicolon and closed parenthesis.

  "Cyprus, are you well?" Viessa asked quietly.

  But I remained frozen, color draining from my face as I dismounted Greymane and approached the window, nearly pressing my nose to the sign.

  :)

  The internet didn't exist in Gadika. There were no magic fueled chat rooms or social media spells that I was aware of. Nobody in this world could recognize these two distinctive punctuation marks. They weren’t a misprint or typo. Above the smiley face was a message drawn in precise calligraphy written in the same language I'd seen across Aclana.

  "Viessa, can you read this?"

  She shook her head, and my heart sank. Was this a message from Justice or Chaos? Clearly, they were familiar with things on Earth. I hoped that was the case. Otherwise, it meant someone else from Earth had been here—that or another being cognizant of emojis.

  The door to the shack creaked open, and I twisted around, surprised by a young man poking his head outside.

  Target: Oliver

  Level: 4

  Karma Rating: +4325

  "Are you just going to loiter like a couple of vagrants or come in?" Oliver asked.

  "Can you read this sign to me?"

  "I suggest we tend to those wounds first. They look quite serious."

  "This is more important," I said.

  Dumbfounded, Oliver stepped out of his shack, causing Viessa to fall behind me sheepishly.

  "It says, 'Free healing. All are welcome.'"

  "What about this?" I pointed to the sideways smiley face.

  Oliver squinted at me, pursing his lips like I was suddenly more interesting than a random adventurer on the brink of death. "It's odd you mention that. It was my master who made this sign. I asked her what those strange markings were, but she never elaborated."

  "Is she here now?" I asked.

  My question raised solemn lines across Oliver's face. "She died a few years ago."

  "Sorry to hear that," I lied, concealing the sense of relief that washed over me. The last thing I needed was another person from Earth, here with a head start and an unknown agenda. "What was her name?"

  "Leah, and she intended to change this world. Almost did it, too." His lips quivered. "Now let's tend to those wounds."

  Oliver turned his back and walked inside, waving us both in. Clearly, dredging up those memories had brought forth a whirlwind of emotions. Chaos had mentioned there had been others before me, but I never imagined stumbling upon a trace of their existence so soon.

  Viessa and I followed him into his shack. Although she maintained a cautious posture, I relaxed, doubting that a man with over 4000 positive karma would do us harm. The inside of the shack matched the rundown exterior and, for being a clinic, it was far from sterile. Yet, I took a seat on a wobbly wooden examination table that creaked under my weight as Oliver approached me with a jar of medicine.

  He applied a floral smelling cream to the puncture wounds, immediately quelling the inflammation. Then he hovered his hand over my chest and muttered a spell under his breath. Light shined out of his palm, beaming across my body. The broken bones and snapped tendons painlessly shifted beneath my skin. I slowly opened and closed my palm, amazed by the instant improvement and glowing text in the air.

  +HP Recovery

  +Stamina Recovery

  "Incredible," I said, feeling the lingering exhaustion fade away.

  "Leah taught me everything I know about healing magic and more. She treated everyone equally and believed in building a better world," Oliver said.

  "Sounds like a real Mother Theresa. What happened to her?" I asked, expecting the reference to fly over his head.

  "How do you know that name? Please tell me, she said that woman was her idol."

  "It's nothing. We simply came from similar origins. So, what happened to her?"

  Oliver acted as if a rock was lodged in his throat. "There were powerful people that didn't appreciate her mission and once they discovered her limitless resolve, evil forces put an end to her. After she died, the best I could do was open this clinic after I was driven out of Ingcaster."

  "Driven out by who?" I asked.

  "A bunch of thugs. I'm certain The Healers Association of Aclana hired them, but I don't have the proof."

  I made a mental note of the organization, deciding to steer clear of them for now. Any potential enemy with the means to dispatch a hero summoned by Justice was one to be wary of. From the sounds of it, Leah took a more socially conscious approach to cleansing corruption. An approach that had failed. I needed more information, to conduct research, and strengthen myself before opening that can of worms.

  "Does your companion need any healing?" Oliver asked, turning his gaze to Viessa.

  The elf shied away, and I asked, "Are you hurt? He's asking if you need to be healed."

  But she shook her head as I realized I had inadvertently spoken in Elvish. The transition between different languages seemed to be automatic, depending on who I was addressing. It was as handy a feature as it was dangerous.

  Oliver's jaw dropped. "You're traveling with an elf?"

  Shit.

  "You must be more careful," Oliver whispered, shaking his head. "If the wrong parties discover this…"

  Feeling like we dodged a bullet, I stood up and motioned for Viessa to follow my exit, wanting to make haste back to Ingcaster.

  "Wait," Oliver said. "I have to know who you are and what those symbols mean."

  It's just an ancient emoji and I'm a fraud hero.

  Rather than tell the lame truth, I opted for a dramatic embellishment. "It means a new dawn will rise. And I'm the reckoning that will usher it in."

  ***

  We quickly departed Vaulter, traveling south until early evening, where we made camp in a clearing a few miles before the mountains. I had decided against selling our loot in Vaulter, not wanting to parade around with The Bandit Lord's head in tow while I haggled with merchants. Nor did I want to draw unneeded attention toward Viessa. Although she kept a low profile, her pale complexion stood out enough to warrant the occasional side-eyed glance.

  Once we returned to Ingcaster, I planned to collect my pay from the Drayvoss contract and sell everything we'd taken from his wrecked convoy and use the proceeds to send Viessa on her way. While she gathered firewood, I examined the poor condition of my daggers. My main-hand dagger was chipped in several points along its edge and the offhand was one attack away from breaking in half. Only three of the six throwing knives I had purchased remained, and I was out of spiced jerky. A proper restock was needed, but I was down to a single silver coin and would have to barter my way back into Ingcaster.

  The elf returned with an armful of branches and twigs, setting them in the center of a crudely made fire pit. She cupped her hands over the bundle of wood and whispered something. A single spark ignited the leaves and within seconds, flames engulfed the kindling. Viessa added another log to the fire as I sorted through the rest of my supplies, retrieving two ready-to-eat rations and tossed one to her.

  She waited until I opened mine and dug into a clump of dehydrated mystery meat. While the flavor was lacking, I appreciated the bitter saltiness on my palette. It was better than nothing, an acceptable source of fuel to tide me over before we returned to civilization. Once I was finished eating and didn't drop dead, Viessa devoured her portion, picking the container clean.

  "Still hungry?" I asked.

  Viessa nodded, and I gave her the last ration, which she consumed with a ravenous appetite, making me wonder when she had last ate. Drayvoss didn't appear like the type of guy to offer free meals. And despite the food, she still cast suspicious glances in my direction. Though I didn't blame her for that. I too, would suspect a blood covered maniac that described himself as "The Reckoning," even if he offered me a cheap dinner.

  "Sleep if you wish. We'll be leaving before dawn."

  For once, it didn't take long for me to drift off. Although I had restless dreams of fire and brimstone, wading through an ocean of corpses as I chased after Chaos, overflowing with a sense of eagerness to tear the God's head from his shoulders. He grinned, tossing candy bar wrappers over his shoulder as blood flowed up to my knees. In the darkened horizon, a gargantuan pillar rose into the sky, blotting out the moon until a cacophony of shrill screams pierced the night.

  My eyes snapped open, sweat dripping from my brow as I noticed the once glowing embers in the fire pit had dulled. Viessa was fast asleep, cradled against the roots at the base of an ivory colored tree.

  Leave her.

  It would've been easy to mount Greymane and charge off without her. By the time she would realize I was gone, it'd be too late. Her problems were her own, not mine. Nothing good ever came from me offering a helping hand. No, my hands were tainted. Cursed, imploring despair upon anyone credulous enough to grasp my palm. I'd be doing her a favor.

  But the elf deflated my ballooning idea of abandonment as her eyes opened and, without a word, tended to the horses, readying them for our departure.

  "Thanks," I said, saddling up, pretending I wasn't just about to leave her fending for herself.

  I shook off the nightmares as the sun crept onto the horizon. We rode uphill through the mountains, trotting across rocky terrain under the fleeting guise of the shadows. I wanted to be past the summit, and closing in on Ingcaster by mid-afternoon, knowing the probability of running into bandits would significantly decrease the closer we got to the city.

  As we hit the steepest portion of the trail, nearing the mountain's peak, a beam of light sliced through the clouds. The dazzling golden light expanded, highlighting the summit. Sweat streaked down my palms, and I recognized a familiar feeling wash over me.

  "The light..." Viessa said, her voice trailing off as she stared up the incline.

  With a brick of uneasiness in my belly, I hopped down from Greymane and told the elf to wait, already knowing who was waiting for me at the mountain's peak.