Mathew
238 A.E.
The first thing the man felt was dirt. That and the small stones that were currently trying to embed themselves in his skin. He shifted and felt cotton moving across his skin. That wasn't right. He had been wearing…he couldn't remember what he had been wearing. That realization triggered a flood of increasingly panicked questions. Who was he? Where was he? How old was he? Where had a girl he knew he should remember the name of gone? Adrenaline surged, his eyes flew open, and he sat up. He was sitting in the middle of a dirt road, surrounded by trees, in the middle of what looked to be a valley. That was not right. He should be…he couldn't remember where he should be but he knew it wasn't supposed to be here. His thoughts felt sluggish and he felt sleep calling to him but the growing sense of alarm pushed any thoughts of lying back down out of his head. He stood and as he straightened he felt memories hit him. Like a lightbulb snapping on he suddenly knew who he was. He was Mathiew. He was caucasian, 6’1”, 25 years old, and going to college at MSU for computer engineering. Mathew eagerly tried to remember more. He remembered he lived in an apartment off campus. He enjoyed anime, video games like FPSs and RPGs, and he had been going to the school’s medieval fighting club since he started college. His mother and father were both still alive. He had…the growing feeling of relief and control started to falter as he tried to remember if he had any siblings. He knew he should know this. He knew he was missing information. Panic started to edge back into his mind.
‘Why can’t I remember if I have siblings. Comeon Mat! You would have lived with them your entire life, you can't just have forgotten them! Fuck! I cant remember! Oh God why isnt it coming to me? OK. OK stop. Calm down. Maybe it will just come back to me. Let’s try remembering something else.’
He tried to remember if he had friends. What was his social life like? He knew he wasn't a loner. He knew he had girlfriends in the past but…he couldn't remember any of them. He couldn't remember any friends, couldn't remember going to any birthday parties, he couldn’t even remember graduating from highschool!
‘Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! Wait. Wait, ok Mathew. Stop. You gotta stop and calm down! It's ok, it's just some kinda temporary amnesia or something. Yeah, sure! I must have done something stupid. Maybe I blacked out drinking? That must be it. Or maybe…maybe I took something at a party and had a bad trip?’
He desperately tried to control the panic and was pressing against his mind. He didn't think he would be able to get himself back under control if he gave into it. He had to push it down and he figured rationalization was as good a way to do that as any. He resolutely ignored the part of his mind that was telling him neither of those two explanations were right as he tried to think of a way to keep himself under control.
‘Ok.Ok. Some of the memories have already come back. Let's just figure out where I am and go from there. The memories will come. They will.’
The thought wasn't exactly comforting but it was enough to keep the panic down. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a tunic made out of what seemed to be animal hide. Under it he could feel he was wearing some sort of underwear that felt smooth. Cotton maybe? Boots covered his feet. The clothes were comfortable but were definitely not anything he felt familiar wearing. He looked around him and saw the glaive.
It was a beautiful weapon with a six foot long haft made of dark wood and topped with a two and a half foot steel blade. He bent and reached for the weapon. As soon as his fingers closed around the pole he felt a calm sense of certainty engulf his mind. He knew how to use this weapon.
‘No, it's more than just knowing how to use it. I feel like I have used this glaive my entire life. Have I practiced with glaives before? I must have, but why can't I remember-Stop. Stop it. It will come to you. Relax Mathew. Keep calm.’
He took a deep breath and decided not questioning it was the best way to go. He must have loved pole-arms or something. But this was an unusual glaive. There were actually two blades at the end of the pole. The first was the standard curving blade but at its base a smaller, straight blade extended from the pole at a 45 degree angle. The base of the pole was also strange. Instead of ending in a rounded wooden base it was capped by a metal ball about the size of his fist. He did an experimental thrust and nearly dropped the glaive in shock. His body had moved as if it was on autopilot. His hands had slid into a perfect grip and he had perfectly adjusted for the extra weight of the ball at the base of the pole. His thrust had been powerful and quick but had left him perfectly positioned to follow up with further attacks or to block a return thrust.It was perfect. But that was the problem.
‘What the fuck. How did I do that! I don't remember ever being that good! Wait, how do I know all this anyway? How the hell do I know what a perfect thrust for a glaive looks like? How do I know what the perfect stance is? This doesn't make any sense! It's like I am moving by instinct but I…I didn't train with this stuff before college I don't think. There is no way a few years of college would be enough for this level of mastery but then how am I this good at it!’
He felt the panic creeping back up and his brain seized on humor like a lifeline.
‘This must be what ultra-instinct feels like.’
It was a very weak joke but it was enough. He laughed out loud, let the ridiculousness of that comparison occupy his mind, and forcefully ignored the edge of hysteria that his laugh had contained. He decided he would take the glaive despite the weirdness of the situation.
‘Ok, now to figure out where the fuck I am.’ He thought as he looked around.
The dirt road was about 10 feet in diameter and wound its way between the tall pine trees that bordered it on either side. In between the pines he could see the brush and bramble of an untamed forest. If he looked past the trees he could see mountains in front of him and on either side of him. One direction of the path seemed to be leading towards some of those mountains. The other direction seemed to be leading deeper into the valley. That way just led into more forest. He wasn't high enough to see over the tree so he couldn't tell what was at the end of either path. He would have to make an educated guess on which way to go.
‘Ok. Decision time. Do I follow the road up towards the mountains or do I head down? Either way it seems to be nothing but forest.’
This felt good. Action and decisions were exactly what he needed to keep the panic under control.
‘I bet any cities or towns are gonna be towards the bottom of the mountains.’
That seemed to make sense and so he set off down the road. As he walked he held the glaive over his shoulder and tried not to think about what would happen if there wasn't a town at the end of this road.
He had been walking for a good chunk of time, he didn't have a watch so had no idea how long it had been exactly, following the road over small hillocks and around bends and turns. He was approaching another one of these turns when he stopped. He had heard something. No. He was hearing something. It was a steady clopping and the sound of wheels turning!
‘Those are hooves and that sounds like wheels on dirt. That means people!’
He felt relief surge through him. He was saved. He just had to get around this bend in the road and he would be ok. He took a step forward but then hesitated. The glaive was still resting on his shoulder.
‘Shit. Should I leave it here? What happens if they see me and think I am some lunatic or a robber or something? But what happens if I need it?’
He didn't know why but something about the forest had him feeling like it would be a very bad idea to not have a weapon on hand. He decided on a compromise. He would take the glaive with him and then drop it at the first sight of humans. That would be enough to keep them from doing anything rash…he hoped. He started into a light jog. The second he had come around the bend in the road he realized he was saved. About twenty feet from him was what looked like a wagon straight out of the old west.
‘What's with the wagon? It's like it's right out of the Oregon trail. Well shit I hope it's not exactly like the Oregan trail or I see a lot of dysentery and broken bones in my future.’
The joke made him smile. But then he realized he was wrong. It wasn't a wagon. Those had the drives under the cover but this was different. It had an exterior seat where the driver sat separated from the rest of the wagon. In that driver’s seat sat a young woman in animal hide with a strung bow lying next to her. She was looking down at something in the seat next to her while she held the reins of the two horses that were pulling the wagon in one hand.
‘They must be Amish or something. It doesn't matter. They are people!’
He opened his mouth to call out a greeting and the woman’s head shot up. But she didn’t look at him. She was looking to the side, into the forest. He barely had time to process that before a humanoid shape came leaping out of the trees. The driver had time to let out a brief scream before the monster was on her. It tackled her, one hand grabbing the driver’s wrist while the other grabbed her hair. The momentum carried the two out of the driver’s seat and sent them spilling onto the ground. It was a hard landing. The attacker had come down on top of the driver and had used the fall to put all her weight behind a knee to the driver’s stomach. He winced as the driver’s breath was knocked out of her. That wince turned into a silent scream of horror as he saw the attacker, who he could now see was some kind of wolf-woman fusion, used the hand grabbing the driver’s hair to yank her head back. In one fluid motion the wolf-girl latched her jaws onto the girl’s through and then tore her head backwards.
‘No’
It was the only thought he could think. His brain was refusing to believe what he was seeing. There was no way. He had not just seen someone get their throat torn open. He had not just seen someone get murdered in front of him.
‘No’
He couldn't take his eyes off the driver’s slowly weakening attempts to hold her neck closed. As the wolf-girl stood, drew a knife, and started cutting the horses away from the wagon.
‘No. That isn't happening.’
As the first wolf was cutting the horses free five other wolf-girls came surging out of the forest and surrounded the wagon. Three women with short swords were coming out of the back of the wagon and trying to put up a defense. He noticed this in his peripheral view and felt part of him coolly analyzing the situation. Those three were doomed. A few of the wolves had swords. If the wolves were smart they would take point and distract the sword wielding women long enough for their compatriots to come in from the sides and take them down. Then it would be over. The driver had stopped moving.
“What the fuck.”
