Death After Death

Even after he died, the phantom pain of it lingered as he lay on his lumpy, straw-filled bed. Every inch of Simon’s skin tingled with remembered agony, and only his slow, measured breaths kept it at bay until it faded. Even then, he didn’t feel fear or any other kind of traumatic reaction. Instead, he still felt surprise and loss.

The last one he’d ever expected would have tried to kill him was Zoa. Even when he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, he still reflected on it, looking for warning signs that he might have missed. There’d been nothing, though, save perhaps that his sight had been dulled by a cloud of despair for months.

In the end, he couldn’t think of anything he should have done differently, so he rose. The move reminded him of his unwelcome bulk, but he ignored it and focused on his hand. For more than a minute, he just sat there on the bed, flexing and unflexing it. He made a fist and wiggled each one of his fingers, enjoying the novelty of a sensation that he’d lost for years and years.

It was only when that was done, and he was reacquainted with the familiar limb, that he turned to the mirror. Then he began making notes about everything, which was his habit after every death these days.

He’d been focused on Zoa so much the last few months that he’d written almost nothing down, and he had a few theories he wanted to save in case they slipped his mind in the days to come. It was only when that was done that he turned his attention to his most recent death and how his stats had changed.

‘Name: Simon Jackoby

Level: 33

Deaths: 71

Experience Points: 511,987

Skills: Academics [Average], Agriculture [Average], Archery [Poor], Armor (light) [Below Average], Armor (heavy) [Average], Armor (medium) [Poor], Art [Above Average], Athletics [Average], Baking [Poor], Carpentry [Average], Cooking [Average], Craft [Above Average], Deception [Average], Escape [Poor], Fishing [Below Average], Healing [Average], History [Above Average], Investigate [Excellent], Maces [Average], Mining [Average], Navigation/Mapping [Average], Research [Above Average], Ride [Average], Search [Average], Sneak [Below Average], Spears [Poor], Spell Casting [Excellent], Steal [Poor], Swimming [Below Average], Swords [Excellent], Trading [Average], Transformation [Below Average], Warfare [Below Average].

Words of Power: Aufvarum (air, disperse, minor, slow), Barom (illusion, light, vision), Celdura (plan, shape), Delzam (cure, order, repair), Dnarth (command, connection, distant, hidden), Eszloum (soul, emotions), Farzehl (alter, luck, manipulate, twist), Gelthic (ice, death, weakness, bane), Gervuul (greater, power), Hyakk (flesh, healing), Jazaballa (extend, linger, repeat), Karesh (location, protection, understanding), Meiren (creation, fire, life), Oonbetit (focused, force, motion), Uuvellum (anti-, null, boundary), Vosden (earth, growth, metal, strength), Vrazig (lightning, ruin, quickening, wind), Weylera (because, on condition of, repeat, time, speed), Zyvon (sacrifice, transfer, plants, water)’

“I wonder how much the death of a loved one costs?” he asked himself as he looked at his much higher experience total. Fortunately, the mirror did not try to answer that question, but it was clear that his last life had been a good one, despite losing a hand and Zoa.

After that, he reviewed his levels and saw that there had only been one change, which was expected. “Why is it always the wyvern level that unlocks when I screw with things in the area of the Capital?” he asked himself. He had no idea, but he took solace in the fact that it was a very easy level to beat as long as he took the time to make a lightning wand.

‘Level 9 - A Wyvern on a Mountaintop.

Level 19 - Lizard men in a swamp.

Level 20 - A Basilisk amongst the ruins.

Level 21 - A haunted cemetery.

Level 27 - Centaur raiders near Crowvar.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Level 33 - Vampire at Castle Gravenstone.

Level 34 - ?????’

While most of those levels were wastes of time, there were a couple that put the fear in him, even after all this time. “Calm down, Simon,” he ordered himself as he felt his heart rate increasing. “You’ll kill the basilisk from a long way off, and level 33 doesn’t have vampires anymore. Freya isn’t a part of this. It’s going to be something else entirely this time.”

Once he’d gotten his focus back, Simon quickly moved on. He’d picked up no new words, but a handful of meanings. More importantly, though, he’d picked a number of gestures, which in many ways were better. He already knew that the gesture of nullification worked, and soon he’d learn the rest too.

Gestures: Barom, Farzehl, Gelthic, Hyakk, Meiren, Oonbetit, Uuvellum, Vrazig.

He made notes of all the ones he had, then he pulled his pictures or notes for each one into the mirror, and studied them for a few seconds each. They would damage his sight, but less than spoken words, and they’d be much more versatile than wands. So, he’d make do.

He didn’t have the gesture for greater or lesser, so there were still some effects where metal talismans would be the best choice, but he’d see what the lower levels provided.

“Learning all of those is definitely a goal for this life,” he told himself as he went outside to find an appropriate stick to transform into a wand.

That didn’t take long, and soon he was sitting in the shade of the cabin’s porch, carving a simple wand of lesser flesh manipulation. It was just three words, and he’d chosen an oversized stick to make it easier, but even so, he wasn’t finished until his second day. Then he started on his wand of distant lightning for the basilisk.

It was smaller, and used a full word, so he wasn’t going to get a lot of shots with it before it burned out, but he really probably only needed one, from a safe distance. A goblin interrupted his work on the third night, sniffing around like they always did.

With the fog of grief all but gone, Simon’s vision had improved remarkably, but he hadn’t grown so attached to it that he was going to worry about dulling it again as he set to work with his wand. The first thing he did was to trace his most overweight features with the tool and sculpt away the excess pounds.

That took only seconds to do, but since it was a lesser word, the magic played out over hours, and by the time the first goblin came around, he was still on the chubby side. That didn’t stop him from crushing the vermin with his boot or tossing its corpse out into the tall grass as a warning to the others, though.

By morning, after a third use, he looked close enough to how he preferred that he considered that part of his project done. He was still a little soft, but that could be fixed with time and effort. Instead of worrying about how he looked, he focused on his next task: marking his flesh with his mark of soul-triggered death he’d been working on.

This one was more complicated, and he drew it on the sole of his left foot with a mixture of water and ash before he traced the lines with his wand, visualizing smooth, dark curves of melanin. It was less painful than the brand he’d originally considered, but it would be just as effective once the pigment in his cells realigned.

His thought was a simple one: he could handle any amount of deaths, but he couldn’t handle any further degradation to his soul. So, if someone touched it, for any reason, he died. This version wouldn’t explode in a flashy way like the last one had. It would just trigger a violent heart attack. His enemy could have his flesh; Simon would just start over with a better plan.

Once that was done, he geared up and planned to head out on the fourth day, before the angry mob of goblins could arrive to try to burn him out of house and home. At least, that was the plan. Still, he delayed. Even after his bag was packed with both of his wands, all of the weapons, and the other gear he needed, he took a stroll through his little valley. Feeling nostalgic, he walked to the ruined temple that had given him his first word and studied it.

With Uuvellum Vrazig, I might be able to turn back the time on the eroded parts of the stone and see if there are any other clues here, he thought. Or with Karesh, I might be able to gain a superhuman level of understanding and read them, as worn as they are.

There was much he could do to learn from the things he’d experienced before. He knew that now, but only because the way that things had ended with his third wife had unburdened him from his failings with the other two. The rest of his walk was a metaphor for that, and it was only when he’d fixed all three women in his mind and said his silent goodbyes that he finally returned to the cabin near sunset and opened the trapdoor.

First, he tossed his bag through, to watch the way that its arc twisted ninety degrees when down suddenly switched to sideways. He studied that movement, then, without a look back, he jumped through and rolled as gravity twisted. His entrance was a hatch pointing straight down, but his exit was an arch pointing sideways. He hated that, but he was starting to get used to it, and this time he at least rolled to a standing position so smoothly that it looked intentional, even.

“That would have been impossible with an extra hundred pounds,” he muttered as he stood, dusted himself off, and then fetched his sack.

After that, he started walking the long way to the overlook where the rider would get attacked. Using his wand of distant lightning would have made this encounter easier, but he was trying to lay off of magic and save that for the only monster he really feared. So, his plan was simple.

He’d launch an arrow when the wyvern flew by to get its attention, then he’d bring the fight to favorable ground and try to damage its wing enough to make it crash, or stab it bad enough to make it bleed out. Neither would be particularly glorious victories, but any victory without a spell was one worth celebrating. Part of him just wanted to test himself with both hands again, though he’d get the chance to do that against the lizardmen soon enough.

It’s not like it matters if I die right now, he reminded himself as he moved to position before drawing his bow and arrow and looking for his quarry. The worst it will cost me is a painful death and 4 days to start again.

That fatalistic attitude served him well as he waited, but soon enough the giant beast appeared. In fact, it soared low enough that Simon thought he was about to get his fight without an arrow.

That didn’t turn out to be the case. Instead, as the wyvern flew by his hiding place, only a couple dozen feet above his head, he aimed carefully with his bow for several seconds. He was fully aware his projectile wouldn’t do more than piss it off, but still he hesitated. Then, he lowered the weapon, and after the creature had moved off a bit, he turned around and moved back toward this level’s gate. It wasn’t any sense of guilt or fear that drove him, though. Just a single thought.

The time may yet come when I want access to an earlier point that isn’t all the way back in the past, he thought as he watched the wyvern dive toward the hapless rider he was supposed to save. This is almost 20 years in the cabin’s future, and a fine waypoint to have in my back pocket just in case.

While it was possible it might screw something up, it hadn’t seemed to affect any of its surrounding levels so far. So, he decided that on balance it was less risky to keep it than close it, and he didn’t give it a second thought as he moved toward the exit that would take him to the swamp.