Chapter 37 - Transfer Souls

The muffled screams had drawn the rest of the group around the tree to watch. By this time Getha was missing both eyes and couldn’t see to cast anything at them so I didn’t object. They got into it in a way I found deeply disturbing, despite me being the one carrying out the torture. He had information I needed and seemed reluctant to share it so I was falling back on barbaric techniques. My conscience, whatever was left of it, didn't raise a peep. This bastard had made me a mass murderer. A careful serial killer was perhaps an accurate description of my life on Earth but I'd never slaughtered indiscriminately before.

“What about his stones?” asked Mune in confusion. “Why not start with his balls? That’s what our women do to outsiders who offend us.”

“I can’t tourniquet that area and it has a lot of blood vessels. He’ll bleed out. Give me another strip of leather." Even in my anger at what I’d caused as a result of this idiot attacking me I wasn’t going to geld the man. I made another mental note to be sure to avoid offending the Areskyn women.

Jandak leaned over and passed me a foot-long strip that I wound tightly around his left wrist like I had already done to the right. The knife bit deep into the first joint on his index finger and the final third of the digit popped away with a twist and push of the blade. He screamed and thrashed again as my companions chuckled.

“This tying off the limbs prevents bleeding?” asked Jandak with gruesome interest.

“Yes. It constricts the vessels so the blood can’t leak out. It’s usually used to save lives, to buy time for a medic to get to the injured person, where I’m from.”

“What is a medic?” asked Mune. I shrugged. I’d used the English word because the locals didn’t have an analogue and Mune had parroted my pronunciation in confusion.

“Like a Dreamer, a healer,” I replied distractedly as I moved carefully to make Getha’s left hand match his now fingerless right, saving the thumbs for last.

“Do they do this to all your prisoners where you're from?” asked Jandak, sounding almost impressed.

“No. Once Getha here understands his predicament I will ask him some questions and he’ll answer truthfully or I will start on his feet. I could always heat the blade in the fire so it would cauterise the wound, then I could cut his balls off no problem,” I said thoughtfully. Getha had gone very still. He was no doubt going into shock but that would work to my advantage. I cast heal on him, a little colour returned to his pallid cheeks and the trickles of blood stopped as fresh skin crept out to cover his wounds. “If he tells me the truth I will kill him quickly." The tortured man's head lolled on his chest.

I gave him a few minutes then returned and cast Heal again. I pulled out the rags I’d shoved into his mouth at the beginning and leant in close to his ear.

“You will speak the truth and this will end. Otherwise we will be here a long time. I think with the Heal spell I could keep you alive for days as you gradually lose body parts.” His head jerked round as he tried to face the direction of my voice.

He was willing to talk. He told his story in agonised gasps. A man from afar, fat and wealthy, had come to town with a caravan from the city of Urkash that sits on a distant shore to the south. He had been surrounded by bandaged men as well as soldiers and had demanded a meeting with Getha’s father, who was at the time the lord of the town.

After the meeting Getha had been called in and his father was dead, stabbed through the chest with a long iron blade pinning his body to the wooden panels of the hall. Getha was given the same choice as his father but he chose a wiser response. Gethanel was to be an outpost of Urkash and Getha was to rule in the name of its King. To seal the deal he was given three rings of iron that would allow him to raise dead to serve as bandaged men and King Mortimer would tie him to his growing network as a soulbound servant.

“I cannot betray the King. My mind is not my own!” Getha gabbled desperately.

“How did he give you some of his power?” I demanded, poking the still sore knuckle at the base of where an index finger had recently been attached.

“He touched my forehead and I saw writing I did not understand. I - ah - when... he told me to say yes and then what to do with the Souls he had given me!” Getha blurted. “Now end my pain as you promised!”

“How do you gather Souls?” I ignored his pleas for an end to his suffering.

“I cannot. That is reserved for the master. He said he would return next year and if I was faithful he’d give me more Souls so that I could become stronger!”

I looked up at my companions, they were a curious blend of revolted and delighted. These people were savages indeed. Most people at home would have thrown up or tried to stop me. Instead they had been watching my methods with avid interest

“Can you think of anything else we should know?” I asked.

“I've heard of Urkash, the Dreamer has a low opinion of the place,” Jandak replied. “But he only speaks highly of one shit-sitter town. Cripple, what were his forces like, this King? Numbers, infantry and cavalry?”

“Five hundred foot decked out in grey metal armour and a hundred horse. Plus his bandaged men, perhaps another hundred of those,” Getha babbled, not caring who asked the questions.

“Where did they march to next and how long ago?” demanded one of Mune’s fighters.

“Six weeks since and they went west along the edge of the plains,” Getha barked back obediently.

I looked at them questioningly and they shrugged.

“Thanks Getha, you’ve been very helpful,” I said blandly as the bronze blade slipped through his throat to stab through the roof of his mouth and into his brain. I pulled it out and wiped it on the man’s tunic.

Normalis Humano (soulbound servant) slain.

Twenty Souls harvested.

“Do you think he meant these rings?” asked Mune who had retrieved them from the grass where I’d tossed them while I worked on Getha’s fingers. Getha really hadn't needed them anymore. Three shiny bands of iron sat on his palm. I’d touched them and had no sense of any power in them. Was this world littered with artefacts from previous games that no one knew how to activate?

“Try it on him,” I suggested and Mune leant down to touch the ring to Getha. Nothing happened. “You need to want him to rise from the dead when you touch him. It seems that it's all about the intent,” I added helpfully. He tried again and the thoroughly dead Getha rolled his head up and stared at Mune with empty sockets.

“Aresk’s Balls!” cursed Jandak, backing away. “We should destroy those rings!” Part of me agreed but another was unwilling to throw away any edge I might be able to get over Mortimer. Getha hadn’t known how Mortimer gathered Souls but it couldn’t have been from killing. He was a slumlord, perhaps it came from having dominion over other people? It could be anything but I strongly suspected it wasn’t killing. I'd been blessed, or maybe cursed, with killing because of my past. The others must have a different method. I cut the bonds tying Getha to the tree and he- it - staggered to his - its feet.

“What am I to do with him?” asked Mune in disgust.

“Send it back to his town as a warning. Urkendyn, we need to head back to the tribe. This King will have visited all the towns in easy reach by now. The other traders will be getting to them soon,” said Jandak.

“We can’t stop them from getting there at this point. They don’t have any of my trinkets to trade, Kril kept his greedy mitts on all of them, and without me even if their lords have been made slaves of Mortimer they shouldn’t just attack them on sight. We should return to the camp. I need Kril and Trikilo to give us some advice,” I replied. “No resting. We run until we drop, then we run again as soon as we can. Without the wagon we’re only a few days away from Areskit.”

“Can you give us powers like this King did?” asked Jandak as he jogged along beside me, heading north.

“Not yet. Either he got some sort of boon from a god or it needs a higher level,” I replied as we ran. I was pacing myself, I could easily outrun my companions if I pushed but I didn’t know the way. So despite my urgency to get back to the camp I restrained myself .

“You got Souls from the fire. Use them?” suggested Jandak.

“You really want magic?” I asked with a smile.

“No! I want to get strong! The magic would be nice but you have that covered with the trinkets,” he gasped back. I slowed the pace a little more with an internal grumble. It really would be an advantage to be able to unlock the potential of my allies and it was another way to tie the tribe to me. I liked these warriors, they were simple, direct and even at my worst I didn't seem able to shock them. In fact when I let the demon out they tended to be impressed. Weirdos.

Jesus, Mortimer must be so far ahead of me in terms of levels and magic. He was already building a fucking empire while I was pissing about killing bears and catching a few Souls from rabbits with snares. I needed to catch up to him quickly.

I had one thousand and twenty four Souls in my bank. An incredible sum compared to what I had scraped together by setting traps and hunting mammoths. I asked Jandak to let me think for a minute and started running through the numbers in my head.

I spent a hundred and ninety Souls to jump to level forty and got what I was hoping for. I split the stat points between health and mana evenly, bumping both to another threshold score.

Level 40

Primary Stats: Body: D Mind: D Soul: E

Available Souls: 834

Secondary Stats

Physical strength: 20 Reflexes: 20 Health: 200

Magic strength: 20 Focus: 13 Mana: 300

Affinity: Fire

Summon fire: Range- 5 metres, Intensity- +8%, lasts 10 seconds

Fire Resistance- +2%

Projectile: Speed- +3%, Detonation- 1.5 metres cubed +0%.

Fire Wall: Area- 3 metres squared. lasts 10 seconds

Barrier: 20 HP

Fire Spirit: duration 10 seconds

Affinity: Life

Heal (self): 15HP and 48% increased recovery rate for one hour. Seals moderate wounds.

Enhancement (self): 26%,

Resistance (all): 1%

Projectile: Speed- +3%, (heal other)

Rapid Growth: Area- 1 metre squared.

Projectile: Speed- +3% (Enhance Other).

Shapeshift (Minor): Duration- 10 seconds

Affinity: Space

Size: range- Touch, Intensity- 14%

Mass: range- Touch, Intensity- 14%

Area: 1m cubed (optional) lasts 10 seconds

Resistance: 2%

Pocket Dimension: 0.5m cubed

Imbue

Enchant

Soul Transfer

Maybe I wasn’t as far behind Mortimer as I feared? I called a stop and the others gathered around me, gasping for breath as they rested their hands on their knees. We’d been running for hours and frankly I was impressed at their endurance.

“I have it. I can give people Souls and unlock magic for them. Jandak, come here,” I said brusquely. He stepped forward grinning broadly and I put a hand on his forehead, as Getha had described happening to himself. I felt around in my mind for the switch or activation then gave up and simply willed some Souls across.

Transfer Souls?

Yes.

Confirm amount to transfer? (50% loss of Souls as transfer cost).

Shit. I’d need to give each of them at least a hundred just to give them five levels and the associated stat points to boost their physical capabilities. There were six of them. I just couldn’t afford it. I liked the others well enough but this would have to be for captains only, for now at least. Mortimer must be rolling in Souls, it must have cost him hundreds to boost Getha as far as he had, he was richer than I could imagine.

I sent a hundred Souls across and Jandak’s eyes went wide, he began swatting at the air in front of his face.

“Have you broken him?” asked Mune with a grin. I slapped a hand on his arm and sent him a hundred as well. The other four men backed away with their hands raised as Mune joined Jandak in flailing his hands at nothing.

“Spend the Souls on your levels,” I suggested. “That will give you stat points to make you stronger.”

“What is this madness? What does any of it mean?” snapped Jandak angrily. Ah, of course: they’re illiterate. Bloody primitives!

I talked them through what the stats were by describing the shapes of numbers and the positions of each stat on my own screens. It came down to drawing in the mud before they got the gist of it. Jandak had started with eight Strength, seven Reflexes, eighty Health Points, four Magical Strength, seven Focus and fifty Mana. I explained what I wanted him to do and soon enough he’d spent his ten stat points and had ten in strength and reflexes and one hundred and ten health points. He grinned as he poked and prodded at his muscles before leaping high into the air with a whoop.

“You want to choose Life as your first affinity. You’ll gain heal and enhancement spells but they’ll suck until you get more points in your mental statistics,” He nodded and began muttering the word for life to himself.

I repeated the process with Mune. He ended up with ten in strength and reflexes and a hundred HP. His magical stats were slightly better than Jandak’s for some reason but still nothing special. Jandak had begun slashing a thin line on the back of his forearm and grinning madly as it healed in seconds each time.

“Don’t waste your mana! It only comes back slowly. I’m sorry blokes,” I addressed the rest of the fangs present. “I don’t have enough Souls for everyone right now.”

Jandak and Mune each dropped to one knee in front of me and held out their daggers before them.

“I vow to serve the Vileslayer, the Urkendyn, the Shikrakyn for all my days,” they both intoned almost simultaneously. Well, at least now I had acquired dedicated followers. I could feel the bond with the pair in the back of my mind. I could lean on it, I could sense the option, to force them to act in my interests. I left it alone. I had no wish to start mind controlling people just yet. Down that road lay madness.

We picked up the pace and ran on once more. Jandak and Mune sprinting ahead then slowing while the rest of us caught up. They were grinning like school boys all the way back to the camp.