The Wall

First draft of an isekai fantasy novel I'm working on.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was a whooshing noise, and the feeling of air tearing at my hair and clothes. Befuddled, I blinked open my eyes, but saw only the deep azure blue of a clear sky above me. The tearing sensation continued, and with a flash of perception I suddenly realised I was falling. Panic filled me; I threshed around for a few moments but was unable to flip over, or see anything around me other than blue sky.

The surrealism of my situation inspired a dreamlike sense of fatalism, and I found myself trying to piece together my memories leading up to the present. The sense of dreaminess increased when everything I tried to recall about my past was blurry and disjointed. Like a soldier under interrogation I could remember my name, occupation, and home town: Rokka McGregor, 20 years old, university student in Vancouver, Canada. That much was clear, but any further details eluded me. Frustrated, I switched to trying to recall recent memories. I was remembering being in bed, watching car headlights create slats of light on my bedroom wall, when there was a loud thump. The sky blurred into darkness, and I felt a strong impact along the back of my body. As my consciousness faded, a fleeting feeling of puzzled regret washed over me.

‘Captain, I can see the South marker, dead ahead!’

Captain Klaes, leader of the Southern scouting expedition, looked in the direction Private Piet was pointing. In the midst of that snow covered wasteland stood a lone spike, a red painted obelisk placed there as a warning and boundary. Klaes’ squad might be riding their patrol through wilderness right now, but beyond that marker was Corrupted territory, with no hope of return or rescue.

‘Got it: let’s turn east along the margin and look for a new camp.’ Klaes ordered wearily. It was inconvenient that they couldn’t make camp in the same place as the previous patrol, but building up the smell of humans over repeated visits would be asking for corrupted monsters to gather.

The squad was just beginning to turn their horses east when the air was suddenly filled with a screeching whining noise that grew louder and louder. Apprehensively the soldiers looked all around them, but it wasn’t until Klaes’ second in command Hakken pointed upwards with a yell that they realised the noise was coming from above. A moment later, something hit the ground in front of them with explosive force, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris.

‘Swords out! Defensive formation!’’ yelled Klaes as he struggled to calm his frightened horse. Seasoned veterans as they were, it took the company long minutes to regain their composure, while they tensed for an attack to come from the middle of the settling cloud. However, none came, so after a short time, with a wave of his hand Klaes cautiously ordered Private Vinst forward to check on the small crater left behind.

Vinst dismounted and took a few timid steps forward. Klaes tsked internally at the sight of Vinst’s trembling hand clutching his sword hilt, and jerked his chin to tell Hakken to join the private. The younger officer obeyed, pushing past the still shivering Vinst. He stopped on the edge of the shallow crater, and the men heard Hakken whistle through clenched teeth at what he saw.

‘New type of Corrupted?’ asked Klaes warily. His heart sank at the thought that the corruption might’ve finally spawned flying monsters. Humanity’s continued civilization rested on the fact that the Corrupted couldn’t fly. If that fact changed, the mountain range barrier would no longer prevent Corrupted from ravaging the northern fields and cities. It would mean untold devastation for the already precariously surviving humans on this continent.

Hakken shook his head without looking round and began to take off his cloak. “Unknown, but I don’t think so.’

Intrigued, Klaes dismounted and followed his subordinate to the centre of the crater. In its shallow depression he could see a pale shape. As he reached it, Hakken knelt and wrapped the shape in his cloak. With a shock Klaes realised that he was looking at a person, a woman, naked except for Hakken’s cloak. She looked inhuman, as if all colour had been drained from her. Long ropes of white hair made a rayed halo around her head. Her skin was white and almost translucent, and face was high-boned and elfin, serene in repose. She looked more like a ghost than a living being, and Klaes felt unease at the idea of taking her with them. He was still trying to process her appearance while Hakken lifted her and turned back to the rest of the squad. Puzzled, Klaes wondered where she possibly could’ve come from. Monsters and magic might be a normal part of his unfortunate life, but he’d never heard of people falling from the sky before.

‘Well, this is a first,’ Klaes mused, watching Hakken stand awkwardly awaiting orders. ‘Major Hakken, she’s your responsibility now.’ Hakken nodded stoically at this. ‘Be ready to strike if she shows signs of corruption.’ Klaes sighed, thankful that Hakken wasn’t the sort of soldier he would need to give a ‘hands off’ warning to when it came to women. His young subordinate might be oddly taciturn, but he was one of the most dependable officers on the wall.

‘Sir, what’s going on sir?’ asked one of the soldiers doubtfully. Klaes sighed again deeply and shrugged.

‘You all saw as much as I did; a girl fell out of the sky. Probably some new kind of Corrupted but who knows, maybe the gods have sent us an angel instead.’

There were a couple of uneasy laughs at this, but no further comments as Hakken draped the girl like a sack of potatoes in front of his saddle. Klaes waited for him to mount and then ordered the squad to move. The light was fading and it was imperative they made camp before dark. Corrupted roamed at all times, but their power grew exponentially in darkness.

‘Men, let’s get the hell back to the fort as soon as possible!’ Klaes shouted. At the sound of ‘fort’ the men murmured with weary happiness, and the whole column trotted off.

I was woken by the sound of the wind wailing through unseen trees, and for a moment I thought I was still falling. I jerked upright, and found myself sitting on a blanket laid over cold hard earth. Shocked, I suddenly realised that my wrists and ankles were bound in front of me with coarse rope. For a second I was tempted to flail around and attempt to free myself, but my attention was caught by dark shapes moving around me. One passed between me and the roaring bonfire a little way off, and I saw it was a man. I stiffened, understanding that I was a captive.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and flickering fire light I watched the men moving around me apprehensively. It was hard to see details, but they all wore long cloaks, swords glinting at their hips. They didn’t look like larpers (live action role players who often wore pseudo mediaeval garb); their movements were too terse and efficient, as if they spent a lot of time camping out like this. They also seemed to be constantly on the lookout for danger. Their clothes and faces were weathered beyond even the most diligent method actor; there was no doubt that the clothes and swords were not part of a game. They all ignored me, which thankfully allowed me the time to calm myself and take in more of my situation.

I was sitting near the edge of a dirt circle around the bonfire, on a raised ledge of rock sticking out from a sheer cliff. I couldn’t see much more than that due to the darkness of night. A group of horses huddled together on the inside closest to the cliff wall. I also couldn’t tell the exact number of men, but it was definitely more than ten. Trying to put their strange clothing and swords out of my mind, I turned my attention to myself. I was tied securely, but it didn’t seem like I’d been physically harmed. My last memory had me dressed in a nightshirt, but now I was wearing a heavy woollen tunic and trousers several times too large, underneath a thick felted cloak. Instead of shoes, my feet and calves had been wrapped in several layers of cloth like a mummy. They reminded me of something I’d seen in a film about the Middle Ages named puttees; a primitive substitute for boots.

Sighing repeatedly, I spent some time organising my thoughts; when it came right down to it, I had been kidnapped and tied up by a bunch of strange Luddites in the middle of what looked like wilderness. The fact that I couldn’t remember how I got there was probably due to drugs or a brain injury. Briefly I wondered if that was also why I felt so calm, in spite of the obvious danger.

A blast of icy wind disrupted my thoughts, and I huddled deeper into my cloak, burying my face against my updrawn knees. I was shivering like this when a hand gripped my shoulder. Afraid that now someone had noticed me, my captors would hurt me, I cringed away. A hand thrust a hunk of dry bread and strips of jerky in front of my face, and I automatically looked up to see the owner of the hand’s face. Unfortunately this was hidden by his deep hood, which increased his sense of menace. Too tense with fear to speak, I nodded my thanks and started to wolf down the food, cold and stale as it was. He followed it up by passing me a flask of what I’d assumed to be water, but turned out to be warm broth. It was a little unexpected, but I was thankful for any warmth at that point.

I expected the man to leave but to my surprise he wrapped me in a thick padded blanket lined with some kind of animal fleece. It was very cosy, and now that I wasn’t so hungry, even stress and fright couldn’t keep me from feeling sleepy. His face still hidden, the man sat down next to me, swaddling himself in the same kind of blankets. I peeked at him with cautious curiosity from under my hood, but the cloak and blankets made him a shapeless lump.

‘~~~~~?’

It took me a few moments to realise he’d said something, but I couldn’t understand it. I shrugged under the heavy blanket and ventured to speak.

‘Sorry, I didn’t quite get that?’

The man turned a little to face me and I saw the lower part of his face; regular features with a slightly pointy chin and straight nose. It was hard to tell in the flickering fire light, but he didn’t seem older than thirty.

‘~~~~~~~~~?’ he said, and with a sinking heart I caught on that he was speaking a language I didn’t know. I’m not great at languages to begin with, but it didn’t even sound a little familiar. Fear began to chase away my drowsiness; there’s little possibility of reasoning with your captors when you can’t speak their language.

Upset, I shook my head and answered tremulously, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. English, do you speak English?’

The man tilted his head to one side quizzically. I sighed in frustration; my body was ready to sleep, but I knew this was too good a communication opportunity to waste. I decided to start from the beginning.

‘Rokka.’ my hands were still bound, so I used both fists to tap my chest. ‘Rokka.’

I then raised my eyebrows in as broad a gesture as I could, and pointed my fists at my captor. Your turn, was what I hoped he would realise.

The man scratched his chin and then nodded. ‘ Hakken Gil. Gil.’ he tapped his chest with a scarred hand.

I nodded back in greeting, and then we both sat in awkward silence. I’d been sort of hoping these greetings would convince him to untie me, but instead he eventually lay down next to me, rolling further into his blankets. I sat there for a while fighting sleep, waiting for some sign that this was a ploy to attack me, but he was already snoring softly. Listening to his regular breathing, I didn’t even notice when I slipped into real sleep, hunched over and held up by the thick blankets.