I floated in a dark, empty abyss, and I was pretty sure that I was still alive. I couldn’t be sure, but I was in too much pain for me to think that I was dead. If I had died and went to heaven, I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t be hurting quite nearly so much.

  Then again, considering what I had been up to the past few months, I wasn’t too confident that I was going to the pearly gates anymore.

  Of course, all of this was based on the idea that there actually was a heaven or hell for me to go to. Ahn’Khareen had been fairly confident and insistent that there were real, quantifiable gods and heavens in this world, but did that include the Christian faith as well? I had been raised Catholic, but I hadn’t gone to church in a long time so I didn’t know if that in conjunction with the necromancy and being on a different world disqualified me from going to heaven. It felt like it probably would though.

  The fact that I was even capable of having this kind of internal debate about where I was destined to go after I die was also a good indicator that I wasn’t actually dead, instead of just going to that place.

  The entire right side of my face radiated pain, with burning tendrils wrapping around the rest of my head and down to my neck and shoulders. What had happened? I remembered the woods, the militia members, the… the hobgoblin. I had been shot. I had been shot!

  Feeling slowly started to return to the other parts of my body. My fingers were the first to respond, and I gently felt around my body, trying to figure out where I was. I didn’t get much, besides the fact that I was on a bed, or perhaps a couch. Not like the uncomfortable bed in my room at Ahn’Khareen’s either, this bed had nice soft sheets.

  The rest of my senses started to return to me, all except for sight. I was still in a completely black void, and I could feel my pulse start to quicken.

  I’m not blind… am I?

  My head certainly hurt enough to where it was a possibility, and the thought terrified me. All of the moisture in my mouth had completely evaporated, leaving it as dry as the Sahara. Dimly through my panic, I heard people talking nearby. I immediately stopped my efforts to try and figure out where I was, hoping instead that whoever was nearby would save me the effort. I didn’t know if it was possible to study magic if I was blind, but I knew that I wouldn’t get the chance to find out if I was dead.

  “My lord,” A soft voice said as I strained my ears to listen. “I must raise my protests again. There is something… off about his soul.”

  “And for the last time – is it demonic?” The familiar voice of Lord Esmaraldis said, and I felt a surge of relief.

  It was probably the only time anybody had ever felt relief hearing his voice, but at least I knew I was in somewhat friendly hands.

  “I… no. It’s not demonic my lord, but there is something... strange there.”

  The lord sighed. “Arasta, you think any magic not sanctioned by your church is strange and unholy.”

  “My lord!” The softer voice said, clearly aggrieved.

  “Oh relax. If it’s not demonic, then I see no problems with you healing him.”

  “Who knows what he has sold his soul to?”

  “I don’t care what he’s decided is the value of his soul, I care about him being awake and alive enough to be useful. Can you heal his wounds enough for that?”

  A long silence followed, then by a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t heal his wounds completely.  I’m not skilled enough for that, and the wounds are very serious. I believe I can ensure that he lives, however.”

  “Then that’s all I need you to do.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Footsteps came closer.

  “I believe he’s waking up.” The soft voice, Arasta, said. “He really should be asleep for this next part.”

  “Well, we can’t have that then. Do what you must, just heal him.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  A pair of hands rested on my head, and I felt a tell-tale crackle of mana, which was bizarre to feel when I wasn’t the one channeling it. Then all was black once again.

 

--##--

 

  My head didn’t hurt nearly so bad the next time I woke up, which was a small miracle. Sensations started to return faster too, but everything was still pitch black. This time however, I realized that there was something wrapped around the top of my head and face, which was concerning, to say the least.

  “Hello?” I called nervously, although my voice was dry and raspy. “Anybody?”

  “William?” Penelope said from besides me, and I felt a pair of soft hands take my own.

  “Is that my name?”

  A worried silence filled the air, and I sighed. “That was a joke. Aren’t you supposed to ask me those things?”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah, my name, the year, who’s the president, those kind of things.”

  “President?”

  I tried to swallow, but my throat was too sore. “Never mind. Can I get some water?”

  “Oh! Cleric Arasta said you might want some.”

  A glass pressed itself up against my lips, and I awkwardly managed to get my lips around it as Penelope tilted it. A little water dribbled down my chin, but I couldn’t care less, it was perhaps some of the best water I had ever had. Eventually I nodded, and she took the glass away.

  “What happened?” I asked, voice less raspy this time. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the village’s church, Cleric Arasta decided it would be the best place for you to be while you healed. And as for what happened, well it was terrifying. The militiamen- “

  “And militiawomen.” I cut in.

  “Of course, well they managed to bring you in. They told the most horrifying tale, apparently a hobgoblin of all things somehow shot you!”

  “I can remember that.”

  “Of course, of course. Well, although you were badly hurt, they carried you back and the cleric was able to stop you from dying.”

  She was silent for a long minute, and I had a very bad feeling.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s… not good.”

  “Penelope.”

  She sniffled, and it almost sounded like she was crying.

  “The wound shattered your eye socket and ruined much of the skeletal structure of the right side of your face.” Said the soft voice from earlier.

  “Cleric Arasta!” Penelope cried, clearly startled.

  God, what I would give to be able to see what’s going on.

  “You’re extremely lucky to be alive young man.” The cleric continued. “It was uncertain whether or not you’d live the night.”

  “What about the hobgoblin? Or Baker?” I asked, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. “Creal? Jones?”

  “Who are- “Penelope began but was cut off by the cleric.

  “The members of the militia are all safe and sound, and I am told that the hobgoblin was dealt with before it could harm anyone else. Your worry for them does you credit, but I would recommend focusing on your own fate for now.”

  “Am I blind?” The words came out in a rush, I wasn’t able of holding them in any longer. “Oh god, please don’t tell me I’m blind, I can’t study if I’m blind.”

  “Well, the fact that you have some faith at least also does you credit. No, you’re not blind.”

  There was a heavy, unspoken but.

  “However, your right eye is… permanently damaged. I was able to save your life, but not the eye. Perhaps in time, with concentrated healing from clerics more skilled in the healing arts you might regain some limited capacity for sight again. I wouldn’t bet money on it though.”

  I sagged, unaware until now how tightly I had been holding myself in preparation for the bad news.

  “It’s not so bad.” Penelope said, but I could tell it was forced. “You’re not… you’re not completely blind!”

  “Can you take off the wrappings?” I said, voice rasping. “At least enough for me to be able to see?”

  “I can certainly do that. Please, close your eye, you’ve been without vision for almost a full day, and the bright light may be painful.”

  I tried to close both eyes, I really did, but only my left eye would cooperate. Besides the pain, I couldn’t feel anything from the entire upper right side of my face.

  “Okay.” I said, trying not to let my voice waver.

  “I’m removing the bandages now.”

  A cool pair of hands gently lifted my head and began to fiddle with whatever cloth had been put there, while Penelope gripped my own hands in hers. I got the feeling it was more for her benefit than it was for mine.

  I could feel the cool air hit my face when the cleric pulled away the bandages, although it was only the left side.

  “Slowly now.” Arasta said. “Don’t be worried if your eye hurts with the light, that’s normal.”

  Light blossomed in my vision as I opened my eye, and it was just as painful as had been promised. The first thing I saw was the wooden beams and plans of the ceiling above me, whitewashed to make the room brighter. At any other time that probably would have been appreciated, but right now it was more annoying and painful than anything else. Two figures were also hovering above me to the left, which was the only side I could see anything out of.

  The wrappings weren’t totally gone, I could feel several layers of cloth covering the right side of my face, but just being able to see anything at all was bittersweet.

  I looked over to the left, and my vision focused until Penelope and an unknown man resolved themselves into clear images. The man was tall, skinny, and possessed a grave dignity. His white robes were edged with thin strips of gold and green fabrics and contrasted sharply with his black skin. A pair of pince-nez glasses perched on the tip of his hawkish nose, and he smiled faintly as he noticed me looking at him and inclined his head in a short nod.

  “Cleric Arasta, I presume.” I rasped.

  “The one and the same. It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance Magus Amsel, the young Lady Penelope here has told me much about you.”

  My gaze shifted over to Penelope, and ow moving my eyes hurt, who was furiously wiping red-rimmed eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Is that so?” I asked, and she blushed.

  “I may have, ah, discussed our meetings while I was waiting for you to wake.”

  “The young lady has been by your side since you were brought here.” Arasta said with a smile in his voice, though not on his face.

  “Cleric Arasta!” Penelope said, scandalized.

  “Regardless, it is good to meet you in person.”

  “Likewise.” I said and tried to sit up.

  That was a bad idea, the world in my admittedly limited vision swirled, I felt nauseous, and the cleric put his hand on my shoulder, quite easily keeping me laying down.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that.” He said. “You need to eat and drink, and most importantly you need to rest.”

  “I think,” I said slowly, watching as half of the world slowly resolved itself into a still image again. “That’s a good idea.”

  I promptly passed out again, something that was becoming distressingly common.

 

--##--

 

  “Why is everybody looking at me?” I asked as Penelope and I walked to her manor, which involved going through the village.

  I had woken up and went back to sleep several times during the day, and although only my head had been hurt, as it turns out nearly dying by being shot in the face wasn’t good for my health.

  Luckily, I managed to scrape together enough conscious thought and mana to take a ride in Wilbur like I had done several days earlier and reassure a surprisingly anxious Ahn’Khareen that I was still alive and that she shouldn’t wipe out every living thing in a fifty-mile radius. Of course, that had taken all of my strength, and had confused and worried Arasta as to why I suddenly collapsed into sleep for another six hours.

  The end result was nearly a full day after I had woken up, I was finally able to get up and walk to the manor, to talk about the mission with Lord Esmaraldis. He was busy directing the response of the militia after learning about the hobgoblin, which was apparently something so concerning he couldn’t be spared to come down and talk to me himself. Or he was an asshole and couldn’t be bothered, which was the more likely option.

  The problem was that somehow word has spread about who I was, and now as we were walking people kept looking at me. They weren't particularly subtle about it either, and I could only assume that twice as many people were staring and talking about me than I could see.

  “It’s because you’re a hero to them.” Penelope said from my right side, and I twitched in surprise again, even though I knew rationally that she was walking there to help guide me.

  It was unnerving as hell to have half of my vision completely gone, and I was getting paranoid of things in the unnatural darkness to my right. It wasn’t just black, there was simply nothing, which was somehow even more terrifying. I still had on the bandage, and at this point I was almost too scared to actually take it off. While Arasta had been able to only ensure that I wouldn’t die, I was betting that Ahn’Khareen would be able to do more.

  “How am I a hero?” I asked. “I didn’t really do anything.”

  “You killed a hobgoblin! And you’re a mage, Hawkthorne hasn’t seen a real mage in a long time, and people find that fascinating. You’ve been the talk of the village for the past several days, you know, and this has only made you stand out more.”

  “As a point of order, I didn’t actually kill a hobgoblin. If I had, then I wouldn’t be blind in one eye. And besides, Arasta is a mage.”

  “Cleric Arasta is a cleric.” She said, as if there was some important difference between his healing magic and my own.

  “It’s all mana in the end.” I said, and she huffed.

  “I don’t presume to know about magic, but you need to just accept the fact that people are interested in you. Regardless of anything else, you’re new and exciting.”

  “I don’t want people to be interested in me!” I didn’t quite whine, but it was close. “I just want to study in peace for god’s sake.”

  “Well then, you shouldn’t have gotten involved.” Penelope said primly, and I didn’t have an answer to that.

  She was right, after all.

  The rest of the trip was uneasy, with every sound coming from my right side making me twitch. Penelope was there, a hand on my shoulder as she guided me, but I could feel paranoia starting to set in.

  Karsil showed us into the manor and brought us to the same meeting room that I had met with Lord Esmaraldis before. He was there again, but this time Corporal Baker was in the room as well, wearing slightly nicer clothes than when we had been rummaging in the woods together. They were nowhere near as fancy as the lord’s clothes, who was wearing a different embroidered ensemble of green and yellow, but still nice.

  Penelope helped me sit, and I adjusted the chair at the table so I could see everybody sitting down without having to turn my head. It was a bit awkward, as I was sitting perpendicular to the table, but everybody politely ignored it.

  “Well, Magus Amsel.” Lord Esmaraldis said after Karsil poured us all some foul-smelling tea. “You certainly have had an exciting couple of days.”

  “That’s… one way to put it.” I said and nodded at Baker. “Good to see you again.”

  “It is, yeah.” She looked very uncomfortable, fidgeting around in her chair.

  Her eyes kept flitting over to the lord, and I figured that she probably didn’t often meet with the lord of the village.

  “Thanks,” I continued. “For bringing me back.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now that pleasantries have been dealt with.” The lord said. “I brought you both here to discuss what happened in the woods. I’ve already talked with Corporal, now Sergeant Baker here, but I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

  I shrugged. “We met in the woods, started looking for the pistol along the trail, then I think it was Creal who heard something. We hid, then ambushed the goblins. I thought we killed them all but the big one, the uh, hobgoblin, it had your pistol and it shot me.”

  I gestured painfully at my head and shrugged again. “That’s all I remember.”

  The lord hummed thoughtfully and lifted one of the napkins on the table. Underneath it was the pistol, and I winced in recognition. “How would you describe the beast?”

  “Tall? Taller than the others, I mean. Uh, orangish skin, not quite as poorly dressed as the other goblins.”

  “Well, that's four verified accounts. If it was just one or two than I wouldn't be so concerned, but if everybody saw one than this could be quite a problem.”

  “I don’t know a lot about goblins,” I said honestly. “But why is this hobgoblin getting everybody so much more concerned than the others?”

  “Hobgoblins are more… civilized than their smaller cousins.” Lord Esmaraldis said, and Baker scoffed.

  “That’s one way of putting it. Uh, my lord.”

  Baker blushed, and the lord smiled tightly. “What Sergeant Baker and I are trying to say, is that while the regular goblins can be a nuisance, they are often little more than wandering tribes. They may kill if attacked but are more often content with just minor raids to steal food from granaries and farms.”

  “But hobgoblins are different?” I asked.

  “Very.” Baker said, cutting in. “I haven’t fought any myself, but everybody says their different. Smarter, more organized. And more importantly the little shits, uh sorry my lord, the little goblins will follow anything they say.”

  “I have fought them.” The lord said. “And you are correct. And when there’s one hobgoblin, there’s more.”

  “So now we’re not just fighting a bunch of random goblins?”

  “No. We’re facing something more. To that end I’m mobilizing the militia, and over the next few weeks we’ll be sending patrols through the woods to hunt down these hobgoblins before they become an even bigger threat. I’d like you to be a part of that, since you might know the woods better than most of the woodcutters.”

  I sat, thinking of my options. I could probably say no, but that wouldn’t help me learn more about the new world like Ahn’Khareen had recommended. As well, it was personal now, even more than it had been before. They had taken my eye. Plus, if I could be a part of helping guide the teams, then I could move the militia away from my home.

  I nodded grimly. “I’m in.”