“Is useless awake yet?” Aloat’s voice snarled.

  Jan stuck one eye open to assess his surroundings as flames trickled from a weak campfire infront. The tiny embers shot from the faded hearth to brush against his face, almost wishing him good morning as he shot a glance towards his three companions.

  “Commander!! Are you alright? Careful, you almost died! I attempted artificial resuscitation, but your command chip is still offline!! Your heart rate went down to 50 bpm.”

  Sill’s voice squeeked.

  It was going to be a rough morning.

  “Yes…..” Jan croaked.

  In an instant, Laura and Kiff stepped forward. The guardsman pressed a vial to the scribe’s lips, and he took sharp gulps, treating the ichor-like liquid with dying thirst. It had a strange, fomy texture that seemed to stick like tree sap to the roof of his parched mouth, but Jan didn’t care; he could taste a healing draught when he needed one. That was until the bitter aftertaste hit like a sack of bricks.

  “I’ve analyzed the chemical components, Commander! 50% H20, 10% penicillin, 40% unknown compounds. It’s not poison, only a crude but effective remedy!” Sill whispered quickly.

  We’ll the rock didn’t have to taste it

  “Don’t spit it out, drink!” Laura shouted. He could tell there was some concern laced in her voice.

  “Drink,” Kiff responded softly.

  Colour returned to his face as he gulped some more of the putrid liquid. Pain shot through his shoulders as his back stung. It really, really hurt. He cast a glance to see Maple munching on an oversized bush with a large Jan-sized impression half-welded into the saddle.

  Barbarians, they must have tied him to a horse!

  "The barbarians tied you to a horse Commander! I tried to stop them by sending a message to high Command but then I realised I couldn't send any messages to high Command! Commander Laura barely talked to me the whole time!!"

  We'll, at least he could count on Sill to tell the truth. The tiny rock had even prayed for him, how thoughtful.

  Laura gave him a tired look.

  Aloat was approaching.

  She wore her hair in a neatly tied braid with her light armour glinting under the oversized cloak. Somehow, in the middle of a mud-soaked jungle she was completely clean with her hair almost glistening in the canopy’s reflection. Her expression was also that of complete fury, eyebrows scrunched like a hawk, but Jan could tell something else swirled in those cauldron-like emotionless pupils; was it concern? No, that was impossible; it was far more logical, she was just worried about being late.

  Then she punched him.

  It was light, but it was enough for Kiff to let out a grunt in protest and for Jan to wince.

  “What did you think you were doing?!” Aloat screamed.

  “Six hours! Six hours we had to ride at a snail's pace, you trapeing along on that slug of a steed all so you could play god in some pumpkin patch?”

  She stepped forward, and Jan ignored her to get a better look at their surroundings. They had camped on the side of the road among the ruins of a small farmhouse, spruce trees towered over the mossy grass.

  “I don’t even want to know the amount of life force you used. Look at you, you’re so pale, I’ve seen half-eaten flea demons with a more pleasant demeanour! Powder you up, and we could sell you to Slivian ghost-hunters!”

  Aloat was still pacing, her mouth almost frothing in fury. However, Jan could sense something different, a tinge of interest splicing through her mind.

  “How can you write if you're about to pass out, Jan? How? Not to mention I don’t know why the one time you decided to show a hint of usefulness in your entire stupid life was growing plump zucchini!”

  “Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll give you a commendation as a gardener, grow a better brain and place some use…….”

  She went on for a few more minutes, placing her knee on a log as she made grand embellishing gestures and stared into the sky, striking dramatic poses. She tried to ask him a few questions on how an “uneducated lout” like himself could weave such eloquent magic but Jan ignored her, keeping the same half-awake expression plastered on his blinking eyes. He could swear at a certain point his ears grew backbone and just adapted to the trauma. Laura shoved food into his hands, and his fingers lurched back due to the hot pan. He tried to use magic to enhance their flavour but felt a dull pain on contact, leaving him to sport a expression halfway between demonic grimace and barching welch. The over-use stung like rotten flesh in his mouth.

  The event’s prior flashed like wildlife through his still-morning, addled brain. He smiled for a moment, which angered the zoned-out out still-lecturing Aloat as he thought of the young farmer boasting about his mangoes and assorted fruits. Hope was a tender flame that would still burn quietly within the peasants heart.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Eventually, Aloat gave up and got on her horse, telling the three to follow suit as she trodded along the winding road. Jan stumbled to his feet to see the other two staring.

  “Jan….” Laura said with her mouth open.

  “What?” He coughed. The two had their eyes wide.

  “That was amazing, you…. You don’t understand, we tried some of the crops, Aloat wouldn’t let us keep them but they didn’t taste different, they didn’t have the bitterness of duplication, no salty tang, no probable convulsion, you didn’t just duplicate….”

  “You created,” Kiff finished.

  “Do you have any idea how much of a magical feat that is? To create 10 acres of fertile soil? To expand that much and not have a single crop squelch like dust or taste like rancid silt?”

  “9.78 acres to be exact, Commander and a 7 on the 12-point Rechman-Slemming Jannic Scale, if I had the proper instruments, this would make quite the study!” Sill whispered.

  He would have to inquire about those numbers from Sill later.

  “We’ll it almost killed me,” Jan coughed.

  The others ignored him.

  "That tasted worse than the mudpie spell at last years class Block Party!"

  Aloat heard this and spun on a dime from her perching place on the trail a few miles down. Then she turned, her own face turning red. It wasn't a change of colour out of embarrassment, more something else. Laura shot Jan a crude glance before whispering in his ear.

  "Jan, Aloat wasn't invited to that..."

  The realization clicked in the scribes mind and he kept his mouth shut. Popularity never equated directly to friendship and while Aloat was held in high regard by many, for most at the academy she was more of the hand they shook rather than someone they laughed with. Guilt seeped in Jan's heart to think of all the event's she had been excluded from, the class party, illegal magic duels, the historic academy bake-off, even the study groups, but still only for a moment.

  "That doesn't change anything!" Jan wheezed some of the liquid from his lungs.

  Sill buzzed in agreement. The tiny rock confirmed his statement about courting death with muffin hands as he began to prepare Maple with his supplies. Kiff looked at his cloak with strange suspicion before continuing and passing Sill off as mosquitoes.

  “Look, I may have had doubts, Aloat may be a stubborn ass sometimes, but Jan, you almost convinced her, you just did a feat worthy of an Archmage,” Kiff added.

  It was extremely impressive, Commander. Your connection to the anomaly was near 83.5%. Granted, I think it shifted some of your electrons a little too harshly; the highest ever observed among Jannic’s is 91%. If only we got your command chip activated! If so, this is a fea…….

  Sill kept rambling nonsense in his ear, and Jan ignored him to see Kiff point to their leader as she stared into the dissipating forest. Her posture struck towards the sky as her chest leaned incredulously straight.

  “She didn’t let us keep any fruit, but she sure as hell was scared you were going to die,” Kiff added.

  “A little too scared,” Laura whispered with concern.

  Jan shook his head. These two needed to be less dramatic, Aloat showing kindness was akin to a foreign world.

  “You tied me to the back of a horse, I don’t think she cared,” Jan laughed.

  His back let out a hefty crack as he twisted his arm.

  “Well, the healing draught she gave you does, she picked the most expensive one she had, a thousand quands,” Kiff added.

  His eyes widened for a moment as his heartbeat went still. In an instant, his hands picked up the bottle and read the label to make his gut go weak. It was clearly a rip-off made by some Dworkish swill, but even if Aloat was from noble blood, that was no mere paltry sum. A thousand quands was enough for three months' rent, a quarterly allowance, maybe even a small house out in the wilds. He would have thought she would use some diluted mud-water from yesteryear, not a prize potion that could save someone back from the brink of death. He would pay her back. Something told him it wasn’t good to owe Aloat debts. The draught was almost as expensive as a cure for the changing, and at least those left you sleeping. Jan overheard from Irwain’s underdealings that he medicine acted as a strong sedative.

  Then he rubbed off a little smudge of dirt from the label to reveal ink. The letters spelled out all he needed to know.

  "Fifteen quands!!!! Fifteen quands!!! I've purchased more expensive bread!!!!!" Jan screamed as loud as his hoarse voice could carry.

  In the distance, Aloat looked like she smiled.

  "Sorry, sorry, we were going for a placebo, okay?" Kiff responded with a cough. He looked a little guilty but amused.

  The scribe's entire body heaved.

  "That would still be expensive bread?" Laura added in a sentiment that didn't help.

  He slammed a hand into Jan's back in a lackadaisical gesture, with Laura half-smirking with a half-jumbled expression about how it was the thought that counts. The scribe had to admit that for fifteen quands the quality of the draught was on par with most hundred or more products available for market, but just the idea of relying on such cheap watered-down swill made his stomach curdle.

  "Spared, no expense? It must have basically been water!!" Jan added.

  The others ignored him before continuing to talk. Jan flicked the vial to see if sand-dust or some equivalent poison would dribble out due to the low manufactuering methods.

  “Doesn’t matter, remember we have to catch this Dawnshire bandit first, no matter what Aloat says,” Laura spoke swiftly.

  She patted him on the back with a look of concern before climbing on her horse to catch up to Aloat, leaving the last two alone on the sparse mud path. Kiff hesitated for a moment, and for some reason, Jan clenched his fist. His eyes raced, flickering from side to side as his ears seemed to swivel through the chorus of the trees. Why was he so jumpy all of a sudden? Sill seemed to buzz again. He wanted to say something but it would have to wait for the ride.

  Jan swung over his pack and was about to clamber onto Maple’s back before Kiff spoke up.

  “Wait, Jan, before Aloat hears, I wanted to ask you something,” Kiff said unexpectedly.

  The soldier almost looked embarrassed as he spoke.

  “Sure, what’s up?” Jan responded. He was still pissed, but he let it slide from breakfast. In ways, he was lucky enough that they gave him a potion even if its strength was comparable to mud-licked swill.

  “That thing you did before, do you think you can do it again?”

  “What the garden? Not now, no, I’d die,” Jan coughed.

  “No strikes that would be crazy, but in the future, my father, you see”

  “Your father?” Jan asked, perplexed. Sill buzzed again. Damn it, what did this rock want? Couldn’t it just speak and have him reply later?

  “He’s… we’ll keep this a secret from Aloat, but he’s a commoner like yours were, he owns a farm up in the North of Kag. I went to school on a commissioned scholarship with the imperial guard. We’re not poor, but I could never afford Kag on my own. The farm is safe and protected by city watch, but harvest just isn’t what it used to be, and lately, without my help, he’s not doing well.”

  Jan nodded sympathetically. Without Irwain’s mentorship, he would likely be in the same position. Forced into service in exchange for knowledge that any pious noble-born elite could purchase on a whim. Regardless, having never met his parents, he was considered that same status now, a cog in the political hierarchy of Kag’s ever-growing upper class. He could tell by how much Kiff was talking that this wasn’t a subject he wanted to bring up more than once.

  “Do you think you could..” Kiff asked with his arms crossed. His eyes shifted to the floor, avoiding eye contact with Jan.

  “Grow him a field?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Kiff coughed in relief.

  The thought of more death-defying magic almost splintered Jan’s mind, with his body fighting on ritualistic impulse to clobber the words he was about to say. He ignored it, his heavy tongue almost clasping the roof of his mouth in protest; a few days' rest would change his mind.

  “Absolutely, Kiff, I’d be proud, but let’s just say your dad owe’s me a place to sleep after, deal?” Jan spoke quickly.

  The scribe could see relief spread across the other man’s face.

  “Oh absolutely, he’ll cook you up the nicest stew you’ve ever had I’ll guarantee it” Kiff responded.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jan smiled.