Surviving Arkadia

I did not have a pack. I’d assumed that I would get some warning that I was moving on and that I’d be able to make one. It was probably a good thing that I had so little gear. Or alternatively, it was a good thing that I didn’t have a pack so that I didn’t have to feel bad for having accumulated so little gear.

I hung the Messer, the dagger, my whittling knife and my hatchet from various loops on my belt. I’d made a cross-body strap to hold the small crossbow and the quiver of bolts so I put that on over my jerkin. All my small tools went in the pockets of the jerkin. Everything else went in my largest string bag and I strapped that in the opposite direction to the crossbow strap.

I was carrying everything I owned and it weighed less than my foraging bag did at the end of most days. It was actually a little bit depressing and no amount of looking on the bright side was going to change it.

I went in search of Aldo to tell him that he’d got his tent back and found him watching Jethro. I hadn’t realised how much Jethro had been affected by Rotveil until I saw him try to stuff his tent into his pack. “Should that even go in there?” I said.

“Can’t speak for how Jethro usually does things,” said Aldo, “but that’s not how I carry my tent.”

I wanted to help but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the packing should be done by the person who was going to carry the pack. There was one loophole though.

“Do you want me to carry your tent?” I said.

Jethro whipped round looking ready for an argument but when he saw how little I was carrying he seemed to think better of it. “Good idea,” he pulled the tangled tent roll out of his pack, handed it to me and started rolling up his bedroll instead.

I moved out of earshot of Jethro and Aldo helped me to work out how to fold down the frame and roll the canvas. It seemed heavier than the kind of tents people used back home, probably bigger when packed and smaller when in use too. But then it was made of wood and waxed cloth and it was a lot sturdier. I tied the tightly-rolled tent to one of my cross-body straps and by the time I was satisfied with how it was hanging Jethro had shouldered his bulging pack and declared himself ready to go.

#

We jogged, then we walked for a while, then we jogged again. We kept that up until I was exhausted. At which point Jethro suggested that we stop to refuel.

I dropped to the ground on a handy tuft of grass. This new body had never been so tired before and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Jethro swung his pack off and then joined me on the grass. He searched through the pack with a lot more urgency than I would have thought him capable of. I had no idea where he found the energy. Eventually he found what he was looking for. Two black glass globe flasks, sealed with corks secured with bright red wax.

“A gift from Agnes,” he handed me one of the flasks, “You should be honoured. There’s a lot of work that goes into these and there’s no way either of us would be able to afford what she usually charges for them.”

There was a paper tag hanging from a ribbon embedded in the wax. The tag said, Elixir of Revitalisation. Jethro demonstrated how to open the flask by pulling up the ribbon to loosen the wax, peeling off the wax and then yanking on the cork.

I smelled the Elixir. It smelled kind of fruity and kind of fizzy. I don’t mean that it was carbonated, I mean that something about the smell made my nostrils fizz, not in an unpleasant way, just not like anything I’d smelled before.

I sipped it. It tasted a bit like cherry and a lot like cough medicine but was also refreshing. Drinking it quenched my thirst and sated my hunger. I drank more and realised that I was no longer tired.

“Now, you might feel a bit rough when this wears off,” said Jethro.

“The time to tell me that was before I’d drunk half of it,” I said.

“Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as a hangover. You just feel a bit stiff and queasy the next day. At least until you’ve had breakfast.”

“Probably because you’re dehydrated, stiff from overexercise and ravenously hungry,” I said. “I’m not sure this is actually re-hydrating us and replacing food. I think it’s just making us feel better.”

Jethro shrugged. “It does make you feel better though, doesn’t it? It makes you want to run.”

It did make me want to run. I downed the last of the liquid and handed the empty flask back to Jethro to stow in his pack.

I got to my feet and stretched out my legs and back while I waited for Jethro to stand up.

Then I ran. Not quite at full tilt but faster than the jog I’d used earlier. Jethro kept up with me for a while before calling on me to slow down and walk for a bit so that we didn’t run out of stamina.

And that was how we passed the rest of the day. We ran, jogged and walked on increasingly broad roads with ever deeper wheel ruts until we got to actual paved roads, with room for two carts in each direction and mile markers counting down to something.

#

It wasn’t quite dark when we got to Uln but the sun was low in the sky and as the skyline rose out of the shadows lights began to pop into existence ahead of us.

Uln was a city, a proper city. With half closed eyes it could have passed for a city back home. The streets were paved, there were street lights, some of the buildings had three or four storeys. Of course it was also very different. There was no concrete or tarmac, and the street lights were illuminated balls suspended from ribbons strung between the houses.

As we entered the city proper I was distracted by the vehicles. The place was full of carriages pulled by invisible horses. Well, I assumed they were horses but since I couldn’t see them they could have been anything. And I assumed they were invisible, rather than imaginary or non-existent or just very tiny because that just made more sense to me at the time.

“What now?” I said.

“Pub?” said Jethro, “We have to find an Inn or a Hotel anyway. We might as well have a drink.”

“I thought we were on a desperate mission to deliver this thing to the City Council,” I said, tapping the Rotveil diary in the pocket of my britches.

“Your world must be very different from ours. I can’t think of anywhere better to find an off duty council member than wrapped around a stein of beer.”

“No, they’re the same, it’s just on a different scale. I’ve never been able to afford to go to any of the places my local politicians were partying.”

We finally found a member of the Council in the third hostelry we entered. He promised to have copies of the diary made and meet us in the Council Chamber in the morning. Then he bought us both a drink of some pale wheat beer that smelled faintly of lemons and sourdough bread, and seemed to be mainly made of rocket fuel.

And that’s the story of how I got the SHOW ME THE WAY TO GO HOME Achievement.