'Yes! Come on, give me something good!'
Memories could be anything, from weapons to enchanted items. One received from a dormant-rank enemy wouldn't be too powerful, but it was still a boon: weightless and undetectable, able to be summoned from nothingness with a simple thought, a Memory was incredibly useful. What's more, unlike corporeal things, he would be able to bring it back with him to the real world. The advantage of having something like that back in the outskirts was hard to overestimate.
'A weapon! Give me a sword!'
[... received a Memory: Silver Bell.]
Sunny sighed, disappointed.
'Well, with my luck, what was I expecting?'
Still, this thing was worth investigating. Maybe it had a powerful enchantment, like being able to send out destructive sonic waves or repelling incoming projectiles.
Sunny summoned the runes and concentrated on the words "Silver Bell". Immediately, an image of a small bell appeared in front of his eyes, with a short string of text below.
[Silver Bell: a small memento of a long-lost home, which once brought its owner comfort and joy. Its clear ringing can be heard from miles away.]
'What a piece of crap,' Sunny thought, dejected.
His first Memory turned out to be pretty much useless… like everything else he possessed. He was almost starting to see a theme in how the Spell was treating him.
'No matter.'
Sunny dismissed the runes and then got busy removing the dead man's fur cloak and warm, sturdy leather boots. As an officer, the quality of these clothes was a notch above those of the simple soldiers. After putting them on, the young slave finally felt warm for the first time since the Nightmare began — not considering the short time he had spent near the bonfire.
'Perfect,' he thought.
The cloak was a bit bloodied, but then again, so was Sunny.
He looked around, easily piercing the veil of darkness with his tenebrous eyes. Hero and Scholar were still in the middle of their tasks. Shifty was supposed to be looking for winter clothes, but was greedily pulling rings off the dead men's fingers instead. Unseen to them, Sunny hesitated, considering if he had really thought things through well.
His companions were unreliable. The future was too uncertain. Even the requirements of passing the Nightmare remained a mystery. Any decision he could make would have been a gamble, at best.
Still, he had to make some if he wanted to survive.
Not wasting any more time thinking, Sunny picked up the flagons and sighed.
***
They spent the rest of the night seating with their backs against the bonfire, staring fearfully into the night. Despite the exhaustion, no one could sleep. The possibility of the tyrant coming back to finish the four survivors off was too frightening.
Only Hero seemed to be fine, calmly sharpening his sword in the bright light of the dancing flames.
The sound of the whetstone scraping against the blade was somehow comforting.
At the break of dawn, when the sun had lazily begun to warm up the air, they loaded themselves with all the supplies they'd managed to gather and set out into the cold.
Sunny looked back, taking in the sight of the stone platform for the last time. He had managed to get past the place where the slave caravan was supposed to perish. What was going to happen next? No one could tell.