How To Avoid Death On A Daily Basis: Book Two (16 page)

For the next week, life was nice and relaxed. Nobody wanted to kill us, and we didn’t want to kill anyone; other than a few fish who, let’s face it, were too delicious to live.

Claire was still a bit pissed off with me, but she had forgiven Maurice, at least that’s what it sounded like
every
night. Now that I knew they were all at it, I became aware of all sorts of sounds and I ended up moving my tent away from the camp just so I could get a decent night’s sleep.

I may have convinced them to try other forms of intercourse, but I really didn’t want to be within earshot of cries like, “No, no, take it out. Take it out!” And that was Maurice’s voice.

We fished, we swam, we messed around with swords. It was supposed to be hardcore training, but I don’t think you could call it anything other than messing around.

I showed them all the moves the Princess had taught me, but I didn’t really have them down well enough to teach others. Still, it gave everyone a little more confidence to have specific moves to practise and there was a definite, if slight, improvement as we bashed each other with sticks.

Even though I’d only had a couple of lessons, I was already far superior to the others. The footwork made an especially big difference as I outmaneuvered them and landed my hits. Don’t worry, I wasn’t as brutal as I was with Laney, and only tapped them lightly.

I also took to running in the mornings. I would do laps of the lake in my bare feet like those African runners who always win the Olympic marathon. The idea was to toughen up my body, but I was starting from a position of marshmallow softness and my first couple of days were filled with painful sores and cuts. Which led to the discovery of a new kind of magic.

On the second morning of my new training regime, I came to a limping stop as yet another sharp stone or twig had stabbed me in the foot. I lifted up the sole of my foot to try and sort out the bleeding. Dirt and grit covered the wound, which couldn’t be a good, so I sat at the edge of the water to clean it.

Jolie came swimming over, her kid splashing about around her. Even though the frogman physiology was totally different to ours, something about her eyes and lips made her look very feminine. The more time we spent around them, the more human they all felt. And no, I was not horny for frog pussy. I’m not even sure there was such a thing.

“You are injured?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just a little bit. I don’t suppose you know any healing magic.” I said it as joke. Jolie reached her hand out, made a few finger movements, and touched the sole of my foot.

There was a tingle and a few seconds later, the cut was completely gone. I poked my foot with a finger to make sure. No pain, no blood, all back to normal. Jolie was about to swim away.

“Er, could you just show me how to do that?” I said.

I had continued to practice my magic flame and was getting quite good at it. I’d come to the conclusion it didn’t require me to not care about everything to make it work, I just had to not care about the magic working.

As long as I treated it like no big deal, the flame would come. The flame itself refused to be more than a tiny pilot light, unable to set fire to anything other than the most dry and brittle of kindling (or pondweed), but that was something to work on later.

The fish-calling had been less successful. I could get a slight glow in the water, which the fish seemed to find mildly interesting. They came closer to have a look but then swam off. But the fact I was able to raise a little fishy curiosity at all was more than I expected, so I was very pleased.

Jolie showed me the movements for the healing she had done, and I copied them until I had them down. Then I took out my knife and cut myself on the arm, careful not to make too big an incision. If I failed to make the healing work, I didn’t want to bleed out from accidentally cutting my own wrist.

The magic worked first time. The cut vanished as I lay my hand over it. This was huge. I wasn’t sure how severe an injury I could fix—judging by the low level of my other abilities, probably only minor cuts and grazes—but the fact something like this was possible in this world made the idea of actually surviving here more than just a matter of luck.

I returned to camp as the other were just waking from another night of shagging each other senseless (nice work if you can get it) and showed them my new trick. I didn’t just tell them, of course—where’s the fun in that?

I forced Maurice to hold his hand out and cut him while shouting, “Don’t move, it’ll only hurt more. Look, trust me. No. No. Give it here. Stop crying, you baby.”

Then I healed him. They all lost their minds and looked at me like I was their new god. Their evil god, but still, it’s nice to be feared as a superior being, even if it’s only until after breakfast.

They all gave it a go, but failed miserably and begged me to heal the cuts I’d made on their arms. I refused, of course. I thought a little bleeding might encourage them to focus. I explained the whole not caring mindset they needed for it to work, but they couldn’t get the hang of it. They were hopeless.

Actually, the one person I did have hopes for was Dudley. Not in regards to magic—he was as useless there as the rest of them—but with his archery skills.

He had always been the best out of us, by quite some margin. Back in Fengarad, I had visited the archery range at the Emporium every day, and I was still nowhere near as good as Dudley. And he also enjoyed it, so didn’t need to be forced to practise.

With the frogman kid’s help, Dudley had set up his own target dummy made out of grass bound into a straw man. He stuck it onto a post like a scarecrow and placed it near the water’s edge. That way, any arrows that missed would end up in the water and could be collected by Suri. The kid was always hanging around Dudley, because that’s where Flossie was most of the time. And everywhere Flossie went, so did her boobs.

Not that Dudley missed very often. His aim was amazing. Even when there was a breeze, which made it impossible for me to get anywhere close to the target, he would be right on the money. His only problem was his lack of focus. He was easily distracted or got caught in two minds. Sometime he would spend ten intense minutes firing arrows into his scarecrow, walk over to retrieve them, and just stand there, lost in a daydream until someone shouted at him to get on with it (that person being me, obviously).

However, there was one thing that focused Dudley’s mind like no other: Flossie. She was the girl of his dreams and somehow he had won her heart. He could barely believe it himself, and nothing meant more to him. Which was perfect for my needs.

“Hey, Dud,” I said to him one day when we were alone at the scarecrow, “I want to say something to you, and I don’t want you to get upset.”

He had his bow drawn and sighted, but gave me a quick glance and a raised eyebrow.

“It’s about Flossie.”

He lowered the bow. I had his full attention now.

“The thing is, she’s a lovely girl and very friendly, which is great, and you both look really happy together, which is also wonderful but…”

Dudley looked quite concerned by this point. I pushed on.

“A girl like her is going to attract attention from other guys. I know she isn’t like a model but she’s cute and she’s got them boobs, right? I mean, holy shit, I bet you can’t believe your luck.”

I punched him in the arm and he grinned and nodded.

“All I’m trying to say is, at some point you may get in a situation where some other guys decide they want some of that lovely boobiness for themselves, and you will have to deal with it. It’s your job to keep her safe, Dudley. You can’t rely on us always being there to help. I mean, of course, most of the time we will be, but if we aren’t, you need to be able to do what’s necessary. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Of course,” said Dudley. “I will do everything in my power—”

“No,” I said. “I know you have every intention of protecting her, but that isn’t worth very much if you don’t have the skills to back it up. I mean, you’re good with the bow, but if three guys come at you, can you take them all down?”

Dudley looked at the bow in his hands. “I… I don’t know.”

“You have to be able to shoot fast and straight and make every hit count. You hesitate, start wondering if you’re doing the right thing, you could lose Flossie. And I mean permanently. We don’t get do-overs in this place. You need to get better than good. You need to be flawless, for Flossie’s sake.”

You may think the Incredible Hulk’s transformation is drastic, but that’s nothing to the change in Dudley’s demeanour as I pressed the idea of losing Flossie into his big, empty head. His face lost its dreamy countenance and his eyes tightened into a laser-sharp death stare. Right then, if I’d told him I planned to take Flossie away from him, I think he would have killed me on the spot.

His training went from maybe an hour a day, to three or four daily sessions. He set up two more scarecrows and bombarded them with arrows. Head, chest and groin. Lots of groin. His fingers would be bleeding by the time he finished, and I gladly healed them.

He improved dramatically, and when he got tired of the relentless monotony, I would whisper in his ear about the terrible men out there, lying in wait for his girl, and he’d be back on the firing range tout de suite.

Flossie was a little bothered by the sudden obsession with shooting things, and the lack of attention given to her, but if your relationship can’t handle your boyfriend turning into a single-minded killing machine, can you even call it true love?

I helped Flossie get over her loneliness by giving her extra training sessions. No, that isn’t a euphemism, I mean I put a stick in her hand and taught her basic sword strikes, over and over. She needed the help, and I made sure to call out, “You’re dead!” every time I stabbed her with the stick. Nice and loud so Dudley could hear. The idea of Flossie dying only made him train harder.

It may seem horribly manipulative (probably because it was) but in the end, he would have the skills to keep Flossie safe. And, of course, those skills would be available for me to use, as well. What a happy coincidence.

When I wasn’t messing with Dudley’s head, I took to hunting around the lake. Jolie’s cooking was exceptional, but man cannot live on fish alone (although frogs can), and I also fancied trying out my new skills and training. Eventually, I expected to be out there on my own and I felt I should get used to it.

It was on one of these solo hunting trips that I bumped into an old friend. I was tracking a small deer-like animal through the tall grass, crouched low with my bow drawn, me versus bambi, when I saw a pair of very attractive legs ahead of me. I stood up and aimed at the head, ready to fire.

“Oh,” said Jenny. “Nice to see you, too.”

I stood staring at Jenny for a minute, unsure if it was really her. What was she doing here? Was she following me? Was she alone?

I lowered my bow and looked around. “Are the others with you?”
 

“They’re probably back at the camp, or still scouting. We always split up and map out an

area when we first arrive in a new place. Helps prevent us running into any nasty surprises.”

“Sounds very organised.” I couldn’t imagine us doing that. We’d all go off in different directions and never be able to find each other again. Then a horrible thought struck me. “Did the King give you the marshlands?”

“No,” said Jenny, to my relief. “He said he’d think about it, but someone had already made a claim.” I don’t know if my face gave me away, but she seemed to sense my involvement. “You wouldn’t happen to know who that someone might be, would you?”

“Why are you here then?” I asked, rather clumsily side-stepping her question.

Jenny took her hand off the hilt of her sword, where it had been from the moment I popped up, and stretched her arms out wide. I fought back all the lecherous thoughts rushing into my head.

“Tin wanted to show the King we were the best choice,” she said, completely unaware of the battle going on in my head; and other places, “so he wants to clear the marshes of the frogmen as a sign of goodwill. There’s a bounty on them, so we’ll make some money in any case.”

This wasn’t good news. How would I be able to stop them? If we went up against The Avengers, there was no question they’d beat the everliving snot out of us. An awkward silence followed. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but I had nothing. I couldn’t just turn around and walk away. Or could I? No, even I wasn’t that socially retarded. I just had to make some small talk, find an exit point, and leave with a cheerio. Easy peasy.

“What’s Tin short for?” I babbled like an idiot. “Martin? Justin?”

Jenny sighed and then mumbled something.

“Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“It’s short for Rasputin.”

Not one of the names on my list. “You’re joking.”

Jenny shrugged. “Parents. He’s a bit sensitive about it, so don’t say anything, alright?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“He’s not a bad guy. He’s a bit full of himself, but you can count on him when things get rough.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion,” I said, with a heavily implied
even if it’s wrong
.

“You’re the one who said I should stay with him, you know, after I asked to join your group and you told me to fuck off.”

“I didn’t actually tell you—”

“Yes. You did.”

It was a fair cop. I may not have used those words, but that had been the general gist of it.

I know what you’re thinking. Here’s this good-looking chick who clearly has some sort of interest in me or my group or something. Why not invite her to join? The others have all paired up, she’d be perfect for me. I can practically hear the cries of
Sex her!
and
Fuck her right in the pussy!

Yeah, well, it’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. She really was a stunning girl and we kept bumping into each other, almost like fate wanted us to be together. But as much as I’d have loved to see her swinging from the end of my cock, the likelihood was remote. I mean a cottage in the Outer Hebrides remote. You don’t know where that it? My point exactly.

It was hard enough not thinking about her when she wasn’t around. If she actually joined our group and didn’t have any interest in me (magic 8-ball says: outlook is good) can you imagine the torture it would be?

Selfish and petty for sure, but when it comes to survival, I think it pays to be both.

And there was another issue I had. What if Tin had discovered I was the one who’d scuppered his plans for the marshlands? He could have followed us here and sent Jenny to scope us out, maybe even install herself in our ranks so they’d have a man on the inside.

But she’s so nice, so attractive, she’d never do something like that. Because beautiful people are so reliable and trustworthy, right? Oh wait, how did this knife get in my back?

“Well, it’s been fun catching up,” I said, preparing to turn around and walk away like I should have done at the start.

Jenny drew her sword. “Look out!”

Suri leapt out of the grass at me. He had a smile on his face as he attempted to surprise me, like he did all the time. It was a little game we played, but Jenny didn’t know that. She lunged forward.

It was only thanks to Laney’s training (and relentless beatings) that I was able to react as quickly as I did. I dropped the bow and stepped in front of Jenny, twisting my body and grabbing Suri out of the air. I didn’t have time to draw my sword but I managed to push the hilt down, pivoting the scabbard up to block Jenny’s blade. I deflected it but it still caught me on the arm, slicing through my jacket.

Suri’s expression had jumped from delight to terror as he clung tightly to me.

“Why did you do that?” Jenny screamed at me.

I was seriously pissed. “Chill the fuck out, Xena. He’s just a kid.”

Suri was a mess. “Sorry. Sorry. Maurice caught big fish. I said I come get you. They wanted you to see. Sorry. Sorry.” He stared at the blood dripping down my sleeve, his lips trembling.

“It’s fine. Suri? Listen to me, it’s fine. You just took her by surprise. You have to be more careful around humans. Your surprise attack is just too good now. I want you to go back to your mother and tell everyone I’ll be there in a bit. Okay?”

He nodded. I put him down and he scampered away faster than I’d ever seen him move.

“You made friends with them,” said Jenny in a confused, faraway voice. “That’s why you didn’t want us to have the marshlands. You’re protecting them. Why?”
 

“We got tired of killing for no reason. Turns out they’re just like people. Some good, some bad. I guess that won’t make a difference to Tin, though. He’ll kill them all.”

Jenny looked pale and shaken. She fell to her knees. “I thought… They said… I thought they were all monsters. They said we were killing monsters.” She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. “What have we done?”

I wasn’t really in the mood to offer words of consolation. Her reaction was pretty par for the course in my experience.
I’ve done this horrible thing, please give me sympathy.
The mantra of all entitled fuckwads.

“I want to meet them.” Jenny stood up and wiped the tears from her face.

Yeah, that sounded like a great idea. “I don’t think—”

“Look, Colin, I get it. You don’t like me. I don’t know why, but it’s fine. You’re probably right. But if you can make friends with them, maybe we can too. Maybe I can convince Tin not to kill anyone.”

It seemed like a longshot, but did I have any other options? I nodded. “Okay. Follow me.”