-1-
Memories of another Life

I have often wondered how and why I ended up in this world. The last thing I remember of my old life is the blinding lights of an oncoming semi-truck. And the blinding pain of my soul being torn from my body. Then nothing. I remember nothing of my past life, okay I'd lied. I do remember some things, these memories often come back to me late at night, normally right before I blow out the candle that sits beside my bed. 

I remember I was a boy, a very androgynous boy, but a boy nonetheless. I remember I was attending college in some backwater town called Goodman. I remember I was struggling with my classes. I remember the night  before I was killed I'd had a fight with my dad about my future career. He wanted me to settle down and get serious about my grades and give up my dreams of becoming a writer. Saying writers always end up broke and homeless and begging on the street corner for pocket change.

I remember I had a close group of friends and we often played a game called D&D that is short for Dungeons and Dragons. A type of game that was played with dice, a game we often played in my basement. Our sessions would stretch on for hours at a time. Come to think about it, I often played a woman in those games. A human ranger who's skill and accuracy with a bow was legendary.

Come to think of it the life I was living now reminded me of a game of D&D. For each monster I slew, I was rewarded a small amount of money. All the money in this world came in the form of gold, silver, and copper coins. Each monster I defeated often rewarded me a number of 'Experience Points' in a manner of speaking. As in each time I slew one I felt myself become a bit stronger. The more I used my tools the more proficient I became with them. I'd noticed my skill and accuracy with my bow had increased the more I target practiced with it. Likewise attending swordsmanship lessons from a local retired knight increased my strength, increased my proficiency with my sword and oddly enough increase my stamina.

All of this made me wonder if I'd not ended up in a D&D inspired world. And if so, what would happen if I'd died here in this world? Also I sometimes wondered why I'd been brought into this world? You see most of my D&D games started with the players meeting in a tavern. There I'd introduce them to each other and give them a basic rundown of the mission they were supposed to run or give them a reason why they had all been summoned to that one tavern.

But when I ended up in this world, I pretty much found myself laying down on the floor of a forest. And I found myself a victim of a forced change of sex. Not that I'm complaining. I can remember wanting a woman in my last life I think.

Anyway all of these memories circle around my head as I peer into the dying embers of tonight's cooking fire. All around me three dozen men lay sleeping on rough leather pillows, covered with rough woolen blankets. Oh I should tell you guys what is going on. Right now I'm part of a thirty six man and women expedition that left Sea Breeze two days ago. Our goal? Clear out the Sand Hills, a region of foot hills that lay at the foot of the Mountains of Shadow. The Sand Hills have been infected for years with bands of bandits. Who have often prayed on merchant trains and raided nearby settlements. 

Anyway about two days ago a group of drunken men started boasting about clearing out the Sand Hills. That kind of snowballed. And before you know it, dozens and dozens of men and women all itching for adventure and easy money came forward to volunteer for the mission. And don't you know it, I had to volunteer too. After all, I am easily the most seasoned of the group. 

I mean I don't like to brag, but I did kill the fabled Goblin King and save the mayor's son. And by some strange twist of fate he later became my protege and is now sleeping beside me. Anyway it's time for me to turn in for the night. We have a long march ahead of us tomorrow. By the end of tomorrow we should be within sight of the Sand Hills. 

And so with that being said I'm afraid I must turn in for the night. I'll keep you guys posted.

-2-
Seeking Answers

Breakfast had to wait as we broke camp before the first light.  Already the cracks were starting to show, the fair weather volunteers were starting to melt away like snow facing the first breath of spring. Though a group of hardened ex-knights had arrived during the night to boost our numbers. It seems they had heard of our little expedition through the grapevine and, lured by the promise of booty and glory they decided to pick up the sword again. They numbered around a bakers dozen, that to say thirteen. All of them were old, with long beards and long, gray hair.

Unlike the rest of us, who were outfitted in old chain mail, leather and in some cases nothing at all. I myself had armed myself and Oliver the best I could. Both Oliver and I wore a coat of mail over our everyday clothes, and over the mail we wore a leather breastplate. With leather pants for Oliver and a leather skirt for me. Tall leather books and an iron helmet rounded out our outfits. Both Oliver and I were armed with longbows, with a quiver full of arrows attached to our backs. Also at my side I wore a sharp sword. Oliver for a second weapon had a short sword that he wore at his side.

Anyway, returning to the knights, like I said there were about thirteen of them in total. And all wore old plated armor. Following them were about a dozen hired hands, each one carrying a leather backpack that seemed to be loaded down with goods. They said nothing as they passed me by. No doubt they thought a woman had no place here.

“They should help.” Oliver said, taking a deep breath as he watched them pass us by.

“I doubt it. The Goblin King slew dozens of knights in his time Remember we are fighting bandits. They are not going themselves up in front of us and wait for us to attack. If anything they're going to attack us while we're moving. They know the countryside better than we do, no doubt they have hideouts and strongholds dotting these hills. I bet they know every creek, hill, hollow, road, and trail between here and the Mountains of Shadow.” I said, sighing.

“So you're saying.. we are pretty much sitting ducks here?” Oliver said as he shifted his eyes toward me.

“Yes, look at us. We are scattered about. Our formation from what I can tell is strung out. And today we'll be forced to pass through a narrow wooden trail. We'll have to march one by one. I don't like it. Don't let the armor fool you Oliver. Those guys have done nothing but painted a big old target on their backs.”

“Target?” Oliver asked as he peered toward me. I could clearly see the confusion written upon his face.

“Think about it Oliver.” I said shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “A bandit sees a knight. He does not see a well trained, well disciplined warrior. Or does he see a shining example of chivalry. No, instead he sees a huge payday. A knight's armor, if well made, could fetch two hundred crowns at market. If damaged, around a hundred and fifty. Not a lot of money to risk one's life over. But his sword, his sword alone, could fetch around three hundred if not more. Most of those knights are old men, gray beards who should have left the profession years ago.” I said, sighing. “An easy payday for a spry, and cunning bandit who has never seen more than a palm full of gold at once in their whole lives.”

“Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.” Oliver said to me with something of a smirk upon his face as he too shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

“So you have learned something from those dusty old books after all.” I said smirking too as I peered toward Oliver who just blushed with pride. 

“This will be my second battle after all. And your third I believe?” He said as he shoved his hands into his pocket to keep them warm. I don't blame him one bit. Sure the calendar said it was supposed to be spring. But a biting chill still hung in the air. And hidden in the brush of the trees one could still see traces of snow. 

“I lost count.” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “And I don't really count that ambush you and I fought our way through as a battle. And I won't consider this a battle either. This is not even a proper campaign, this is more like a punitive expedition. Our goal is to simply eliminate any bandits or highwaymen we run across.” I said, sighing. “To be honest, I'm debating heading back to Sea Breeze.” 

“Why?” Oliver asked me as his eyes watched the long line of adventures pass beyond our sight. It was a pitiful sight. Two days in the field had sapped them of their spirit and those remains I'm sure would fall like the leaves from the trees in the autumn. 

“Because this is a foolish mission the more I think about it.” I said, sighing as I took a deep breath. “But I'm afraid I have my own reasons for sticking it out with these poor fools.” I said starting to follow behind the last of the stragglers. I felt sorry for them. They were nothing more than a collection of farm boys who had no idea of the horrors that awaited them. Yes, that all they were a collection of farm boys, fisherman, and town drunks who dreamed of mountains of ill gotten loot they could take for themselves. 

“Care to enlighten me?” Oliver asked as he started to follow behind me.

“About two and a half leagues ahead there is supposed to live a old woman who many say has supernatural powers. According to all she supposed to gifted with the gifts of prophecy. Some even say she can predict the weather and foretell ones future. I want to visit her, I have some questions that I need answering.” I said sighing. 

“A soothsayer?” Oliver said as he stopped and titled his head to the side. “Pardon me Jeanette, but you don't seem like the kind of woman who would put much stock in what a soothsayer would say.” He then quickly added. “Please pardon me if I've offended you by saying that though.”
“No need for pardons.” I said, taking a deep breath. “I have my own selfish reasons for wanting to visit here.” 

Again Oliver paused and titled his head to the side. Still clearly confused.

“Pardon me, but Jeanette you seem like the least selfish person I've ever encountered in my life. You not only saved me, but also treated my wounds and armed me.” Oliver said as he quicken his pace to keep up with me. 

“You give me too much credit.” I called over my shoulder. 

In truth Oliver reminded me of my little sister. I think in my past life I'd had a little sister. One who would have been a few years younger than Oliver. Or maybe she was now the same age as Oliver. It seemed with each passing day, the memories I had of my past life seemed to fade slowly away. It had only been around a year since I awoke here in this strange new world. Maybe less than a year.

But I started to wonder how much time had passed back in my old life. And while I could not remember a lot of things about my old life. I could remember having read as a boy, that to say before I became a teenager a series of books called The Chronicles of Narnia. I only remember those books, because of how time moved. In Narnia time moved at a different pace than say back on Earth. Say one year in Narnia could be one hour back on earth. Likewise a year on Earth could be less than a day in Narnia. 

And so with that in mind, I wondered how long had passed on Earth. I'd been killed in the year two thousand and nine.. 

“Hey Jeanette!” Oliver yelled as he turned around and peered toward me. “Stop daydreaming and get a move on! We've fallen way behind and the suns almost to the top of the trees! Come on, we gotta get a move on if you want to meet that soothsayer today!” 

I blinked and blinked again. And so without thinking I started to rush to catch up with Oliver. Who was a few hundred feet ahead of me. 

On a barren hill in Glenwood Cemetery there stood a single solitary tombstone that was set apart from a collection of tombstones. The name engraved upon the granite surface read “James Thomas Sharbrough” below it the dates “September 6, 1989 – September 9, 2009.” Standing in front of the grave was a lone young man who seemed to be around twenty years old.

“Its been a year since you were taken from us. I tried to keep the group together. But after you were killed there was nobody around to really keep the game going. You were the glue that held us together. I still have your notes in my binder. And I still have your character sheet too.” The young man said as he kneeled down and touched the cold granite surface of the grave.

“It's not the same without you. I'm starting to understand that you were different from the rest of us. All of us just wanted to go on an adventure. Save the princess, get some treasure, and be done with it. I use to think you trying to give a plot to the stories seemed kind of silly. We all knew you wanted to be the next American Tolkien. And we thought it was a really stupid idea. But, I was wrong. You wanted more than just a one shot adventure. You wanted us to feel things.”

The young man paused and wiped the tears that were forming at the edge of his eyes away with his sleeve. 

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Lady Jeanette. Please forgive your foolish retainers who so cruelly mocked you. We failed you.. as players and as friends.” And with that he stood up. Kissed the grave and started to walk down the hill. And from a nearby creek the wind started to rise up and blow through the willow trees.