Samuel Graves and the Akemic Chronicles

A Grimm Tale to Tell

Samuel had never joined the Boy Scouts as a kid.

His dad had wanted him to, of course, as he thought Samuel spent too much time with video games and not enough outside. But, as was often the case, the man worked too much to warrant any kind of investment into Samuel’s life, so he never joined the Boy Scouts of America and, as a result, never went camping.

He also wasn’t molested, which he took as a net win.

So now, having hiked up a gradual slope of rocky hills through thick forest, into low and rugged mountains as snow fell in thick layers, he could say without a doubt he would’ve hated camping.

Not that this little adventure could qualify. To camp, Samuel told himself last night as he huddled next to a smokeless fire, one needed essentials. Like bedrolls. Or tents.

They had the clothes on their backs. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, after shivering in the frosty night and sweating through his woolen robes as he scaled the side of the goddamned mountain, he felt that perhaps he should have not offered Elena that meal. If he’d just ignored her, he’d likely not be several hundred feet above the rocky base of the Dragonspine Mountains. Looking up, he spied Wheeze and Needles clambering about, joking between each other as they did so. Elena was silent, as usual, and seemed more focused on not falling to her death.

And Samuel? Samuel was straining to follow behind them some twenty feet below the others, moving at a fraction of their speed as he scaled the mountainside.

“So I tell him,” Needles continued, cackling as he clambered up an overhand as if he were part-simian. “Look man, I heard you lost that shipment earlier, bandits suck. If’n ya want, me and my friend here got a spare shipment we brought along, figured we could sell it for cheap if push came to shove. And the blighter laps it up like the fool he is, pays us at cost for the whole thing!”

Wheeze gave a dry, rasping choke of a laugh as he continued his steady, relentless climb. “Yeah, ‘e was righ’ pissed when ‘e saw the maker’s mark was from tha same smith we robbed on the way there!”

“And that’s why we can’t hit up Sanes anymore,” Needles concluded, sparing a glance at Elena. “That help?”

She spoke for the first time in some twenty minutes, more annoyed than out of breath. “I asked,” she stated, grunting as she hauled herself up to one of Wheeze’s older handholds, “for stories about the world, so you can give Samuel an idea of what Terra is like.”

“I just did though?” Needles said, staring down at her.

She glared back. “How? You just story after story of you and your i***t boyfriend ripping people off!”

“Hey now! Those stories tell great lessons, if you pay attention!” Needles asserted, swinging his leg out to push up higher. “Like the last one? Told you that people are far too trusting in Sanes.”

“That… is kind… of useful, actually…” Samuel panted from far below.

“Shush, I’m talking!” Elena snapped, returning her angry stare at Needles. “He doesn’t need to know how to be a freaking public menace!”

“Yeah!” Samuel shouted, gasping for breath yet desperate to have his voice heard.

“Did you see him take out some of those guards? Guys a natural!” She finished, impressed. “Guy will clear out anyone that gives him Hell, you see him throwing lightning around?”

Samuel winced at the reminder, a few images of guards bleeding out from knife wounds or smoldering from his spells flashing across his field of vision. “… you guys are luck you’re all just a figment of my overactive imagination.”

“Plus, he’s funny!” Elena concluded, laughing as he groaned in frustration. “Just kidding, by Jotelf! Hey, entertain us!”

He looked up at her like she was insane, which seeing as she was dangling off a cliff face with no kind of gear to aid her, she kind of was. “What do you… mean, entertain you?” He rasped, shaking his head as he slicked back some sweaty hair. “We’re climbing a mountain, how are you not busy enough?”

“Never said I wasn’t busy,” she chirped, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Said I was bored. Because I am. Staring at these two lost its appeal when I realized their dumber than a sack of wet sawdust.”

Wheeze snorted while Needles let out an indignant cry. She ignored them. “You, on the other hand, are funny. Both looking and you tell interesting stories.”

“You’re mocking… the guy that can… throw lightning?” Samuel grunted, annoyed.

She scaled a few feet and spun in place, perching herself on a small ledge to stare down at him from between her legs. “Nah, not worried about that. Your aim is trash.”

“What?” He growled, unsure of what she meant and, more importantly, why it bothered him.

She shrugged. “I mean, yeah, you hit those guards alright. But, come on… they’re guards. Essentially a farmer with a few months of training with a sword and shield. If you didn’t hit one of them, then you’d be worthless.”

She thumbed at her own chest, a broad grin stretched across her features. “Me though? I know how to dodge, how to duck and bob and weave… the kind of stuff that would make you s**t your robes if we ever had a serious fight.”

“Why would we fight?” He demanded, getting even more annoyed at the situation.

She shrugged. “No clue. But always good to size up everyone you meet. Never know when they might become a threat, you know?”

She punctuated the statement by flicking her wrist, a blue launching from her baggy sleeves. It was revealed to be a dagger hooked to a length of lightweight chain, moving as if it’d been fired from a cannon.

And it struck, and broke the section of cliff he’d been braced on, sending him into a sudden bit of free fall that made him realize that this dream was realistic! As he scrabbled at the cliff, he felt that instinctual fear grip him, the kind that was built into every creature that lacked wings.

The fear of heights or, to be more frank, of falling from heights slammed into his psyche and he let out the beginnings of a primal scream as he spun his arms about in search of something, anything, he could latch onto.

And just like that, he found it grasping him by his wrist.

Looking up, he stared at Elena’s tensed face as she hauled him up the scant few inches he fell until he could grab onto a section of cliff that was stable. She exhaled a great breath when he snatched onto the cold stone and sagged against her perch.

“Whew! That could have gone bad!” She laughed, wiping her forehead with some of her unwound face wraps. “But there, ya see? I could have easily just killed you.”

“You psycho, why would you do that?” He screamed, molding himself to the cliff as best he could as he tried to will his heart to calm down.

She tilted her head. “To make a point. You’ve been hanging around me so much, even while we’ve been with these two, and I figure it’s because you think I’m less of a threat. That accurate?”

“Yeah?” He answered, confused. “So?”

She smirked. “Well, now you know better. And I hope you know better than to trust every pretty face in Terra. If you don’t…”

“You’ll be dead in ways worse than dropping off a cliff.” Needles chimed in from his own perch, a narrow ledge he and Wheeze were seated on as they took a smoke break, if their lit cigarettes were any sign.

“Okay,” he groused, shaking his head. “Lesson learned. Damn, why do you have a knife on a chain? Did you fire that at me?”

She smiled, pulling the extended blade up. “This? Neat, right?” She asked as she pulled her sleeve back, revealing a brace that looked as if it had a rudimentary crossbow built into it out of scrap metal. “Saw a few less savory guys with a good one, figured out how to make it a few years ago. Not the best, but I have enough Yaggol Oil on it to drop an Auroch.”

“Nice!” Needles cheered, flashing a thumbs up. “Yaggol is great, really slows down anyone messed up by it.”

Elena looked up at him and gave a wide grin. “Yeah, nasty isn’t it? Dropped a handsy merchant a few years ago with it, guy didn’t understand I didn’t want to try and ‘earn’ a discount…”

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that she almost killed me just now?” Samuel called up, annoyed.

Wheeze and Needles exchanged a glance before shrugging. “You lived, right?” Wheeze asked, flicking his cigarette off the edge as he finished it. “We ain’t heroes, kid. People in our line o’ work tend ta try an’ drop ya once every so often. Part and parcel of the job.”

“I don’t want this job!” He bellowed, patience worn thin.

Wheeze had already resumed climbing and grunted out a response Samuel barely heard. “Most people don’t. But ‘ere we are…”

The rest of the climb was, well… it was hellish. But Samuel survived it. How, he wasn’t exactly certain.

But now, as he lay in the snow panting and watching his cloud of breath dissipate in the surrounding air as the others laughed and brayed like the asses they were, he felt a small sense of… pride? Pride in that he had actually climbed a mountain.

Dad would be so proud… he mused sardonically, forcing himself up into a seated position. Looking around, he could see that they were near a bend in a mountain road, next to a large sloped building of thatch and stone. He caught sight of a large stables, manned by a short man with crutches, and a sign bearing the name of the establishment just as Wheeze cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he coughed, a crazed smile on his face, “welcome to me home away from home! Welcome to Grimms!”