by Troy Osgood
WARFANG
©2021 TROY OSGOOD
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the authors.
Print and eBook formatting, and cover design by Steve Beaulieu. Art provided by Jackson Tjota.
Published by Aethon Books LLC. 2019
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Contents
ALSO IN THE SERIES
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part II
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part III
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Part IV
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
FROM THE PUBLISHER
About Troy Osgood
LitRPG Groups
LitRPG
ALSO IN THE SERIES
GRAYHOLD
SILVER PEAK
AXESTORM
GREENFIRE
WARFANG
Prologue
He stared out at nothing.
He faced the window, the sky the dark of night with the twinkle of stars, darker shadows of islands floating by. But he noticed none of it.
The book on his lap lay unread. Fingers tapped on the arm of his chair, one after the other in a pattern. Over and over.
Bastian the Sage was worried.
Everything was in motion, the pieces moving of their own accord now. There was nothing he could do. His hands were bound. The language of the contract forbade him from directly interfering. To do so would end the deal, and he would lose.
Not just himself but everyone, the entire world.
All that he had worked for would be lost.
Everything that he had sacrificed would be for nothing.
And here he sat, doing nothing.
Not yet at least. Soon he could act but not yet.
He had to be patient, to sit still and bide his time.
Which was not something he was known for.
Bastian stood up quickly, the book falling to the ground. He ignored it, something he never would have done at any other time. The book was almost a thousand years old, one of the first books ever written. The pages brittle, the spine cracked. Only his powerful magic kept it together.
He walked over to the large window, looking out at the night and the islands beyond. Large and small, some dozens of miles away, others only a mile. Debris islands, so called because there was nothing of value on them, too small to create communities. Just more of the hundreds that dotted the skies of Hankarth.
But here there were more, a great concentration of them, forming a maze around his home.
The map was out there. Soon it would be the time when the Champions would arrive, when the truth would come out.
Would they judge him harshly or see that he had no choice?
He turned away from the window, stalking out of the reading room, passing the chair where the Feardagh had sat not that long ago. Bastian glared at the chair, fighting the urge to launch a fireball at it, to see the chair burn. He stopped, sighing, taking a deep breath, getting control back.
Leaving the room, he turned down the hallway, not sure where he was going.
He just had to move.
Why did he care what they would think? He had done the only thing possible. What they thought didn’t matter. It only mattered that they did what was required. They had to.
They had no choice.
He stopped, slowing his walk, surprised to find that he did care.
He knew what the people of the world thought about him. He was hated. The one who had destroyed the world. A name as feared and hated as the demon that was the Feardagh.
“Weak fool,” he muttered, continuing his sulking.
There was no reason to where he walked, he just needed to move. Just by walking, he could feel himself calming down. He was the Sage. This was no proper way to act.
He found himself in front of the map. Hankarth spread out across the large table, the black iron nail stuck in the center. He ignored it, looking around the map instead. The lands he had saved.
Bastian smiled, focusing on one island, on one small village on the western coast.
The home of a Champion.
Maybe there was something he could do.
The room was hot. Very hot. The air wavered from the heat rising from the many forges in the circular chamber. It was a large dome, the walls and ceiling made from tight-fitting blocks. An opening was at the top, ringed in more blocks of stone. About three feet in diameter, the opening led into shadows.
Forges lined the walls, six in total, filled with melted metal, fires burning beneath. Chimneys climbed the curving walls, leading off from each forge and ending around the opening in the dome.
The only light came from the many fires, causing flickering shadows against the walls.
He appeared in the middle, standing in a ring of runes. Dozens of them in concentric circles.
Stepping carefully over the runes, Bastian the Sage looked around the room, blinking against the staggering heat. His robes instantly felt heavy, thick with moisture. He reached up, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead.
There was a sharp hiss, hot metal hitting water. Bastian turned to the forge behind him. Steam rose from a cistern of water, a large bowl built out of the ground, a channel running and disappearing into the wall. Similar bowls were placed around each forge.
Standing at the forge, holding a long piece of metal that was still tinged in reds and oranges, was a Dwarf. Thick bodied, heavily muscled arms covered in burn scars. He was mostly bald, a single long braid of hair hanging down his naked back. His long beard was braided, held tight and tucked under a thick leather apron. The apron, leather pants, boots and gloves were all he wore. The Dwarf was highlighted by the fires behind him, casting him in shadows.
“What do ye want?” he asked, his tone annoyed, sinking the metal strip into the water.
He pulled it out, examining the glowing metal, bringing it close to h
is deep-set eyes. Turning, he laid it on an anvil, picking up a large hammer in the other hand. The Dwarf started banging on the metal, using the tongs to flip it after each strike.
“It’s been a long time, my friend,” Bastian said, stepping around the runed circle.
He walked as close to the Dwarf and the forges as he could. The heat was immense, a pressure wave that Bastian could feel, even a dozen feet away. It didn’t seem to bother the Dwarf.
“Not long enough,” the Dwarf spat.
He slammed the heavy hammer down on the metal, moving it up and down the length, flattening it. A dozen times, a dozen more. Bastian stood patiently.
It was a long time before the Dwarf lowered the hammer. Using the tongs, he picked up the length of metal. It was in the shape of a sword. Thin edges, a line down the middle, tapering to a point at the end. Four feet of dark metal. There was a light coming from the dark blade, an inner green glow.
With a sigh, the Dwarf laid the metal down on the anvil, turning to look at Bastian. “What do ye want?”
“I need a favor.”
The Dwarf grunted.
The forest glade was peaceful.
Ancient trees, three or more thick, lined the edge in a nearly perfect circle. The branches grew tall, spreading out over the clearing, casting most of it in shade. A gentle breeze pushed the leaves, carrying the scents of flowers.
In the center was a small pool of water fed by a natural spring that bubbled up in the middle, causing small ripples. Flowers lined the banks, a large rock formation at one end. Next to the pool stood a half dozen tables carved from various woods. Oak, birch, chestnut and more. Spread over each were dozens of hides from more animals than Bastian could identify.
He walked away from the tables and the tall Elf working them.
Long white hair showed the Elf’s age, but his work was still of the highest quality. Long thin fingers, with skin the color of tree bark, deftly stitched two pieces of thick hide together.
Bastian walked to the edge of the clearing, not looking back.
He smiled, pleased. This had gone smoother than before. The Elf hadn’t driven as hard a bargain as the Dwarf.
Stopping underneath the leaves of an oak, Bastian crouched down, pushing aside the tall grass to reveal a large stone. Rounded and smooth, gray with hints of brown, a single rune was carved into the surface. The etching was deep, the edges smooth, showing no sign of erosion even after being out in the elements for decades. Centuries.
There were more stops to make, others to visit. The smile faded. Bastian sighed. How many favors would he owe when this was all said and done?
He reached out for the rune.
It would all be worth it.
If they all survived.
He might not be able to get directly involved, but there were still other ways to help. These trips were one, and it was time to advance another. He had to make his chosen Champions stronger. Time was running out.
His finger touched the rune, and Bastian the Sage vanished.
Chapter 1
“Hold still.”
Hall grumbled but did as he was told. He had to.
The blades were close to the back of his neck.
He heard the metal coming together, felt the cut.
And felt the hairs drifting down his bare back, over his tattoos, falling to the ground.
“I said hold still,” Leigh growled at him.
“I am,” he replied.
She muttered something, using the scissors to cut more of his hair. Leigh bent close, angling her head to avoid hitting his with her antlers. Hall saw the sharp tip of one moving to the side, twisting his head a little to look at it. Leigh smacked his head, and he faced front again.
The antlers, the symbol of Leigh being the Custodian of Meadow Grove, had grown considerably in the last couple of weeks. Sticking out of her forehead almost a foot—but not causing her pain, she insisted—there were four points now. Leigh wasn’t sure if they would grow any more, she was pretty sure she didn’t want them to, and not even Grayleaf the Craobh guardian knew for sure if they were done growing.
Hall had a hard time believing that the thick bony antlers caused her no pain, but Leigh said she barely felt them. Just enough to know they existed, but they felt like a natural extension of her body, much like her arms. The color, a light tan, was set off by her deep red hair and bright blue eyes. A small woman, she only came up to his shoulder. To Hall, she was the right size.
“Done,” she said, giving a last cut to a strand of hair just behind his pointed ears.
Hall stood up, running his fingers through his much shorter hair.
He was still coming to terms with the fact that he even needed a haircut.
Sky Realms Online was a game. A VRMMORPG. A fully immersive role-playing game. One that Hall and some others had become trapped in. They had been living in the game world for months, living as the characters they had played. It felt real, it was their reality now, but it was still a game.
A game where he needed a haircut.
He reached down to the table, picking up the green linen shirt. Pulling it on, he left the ties on his chest undone. The wool wasn’t scratchy, finely made, courtesy of Skara Brae’s new tailor. A small breeze curled around his feet. Looking down, he saw the clippings of his hair flying away, toward the entrance to Leigh’s cave.
Normally a Druid’s Gust of Wind spell wasn’t that sensitive or calm. It was created to drive the Druid’s enemies away, to push them back with the force of the wind. But Leigh, as Custodian, had finer control over nature while in her domain. Being the Custodian of a Grove containing a Branch of the World Tree, the only things keeping the floating islands of Hankarth in the sky, came with some perks.
Along with some negatives.
He glanced back. Leigh, dressed in her normal leathers, looked down at the ground. Her fingers moved in front of her, directing the little gusts of wind, picking up all the stray hairs.
“Better than a broom,” Hall said.
Leigh smiled, making a shooing motion with her hand.
“See you tonight at dinner?”
“I’ll try,” she replied, already turning away and heading for her worktable in the back of the cave.
Hall wanted to say something but just shook his head, walking out of the cave. She was always so busy, the biggest of the negatives to being the Custodian.
But then, so was he. Being the lord of Skara Brae came with its own responsibilities. It seemed they never had a chance to spend any length of time alone anymore. Both were so busy. It wasn’t hurting their relationship, just the opposite. It made the moments they did have together that much more special. Even if it was just for a haircut.
Stepping out of the cave, he had to blink against the sudden glare of the sun. The cave had been well lit, sunlight leaking in through the opening as well as a special glowing moss that Leigh had ringed the rock with. The moss provided a warm glow, bright enough to see by, but it was not sunlight.
High cliff walls ringed in the grassy clearing, a thick growth of trees at the far end. It was small, with small rocks sticking up from the grass here and there. Walking in the clearing always gave Hall an uneasy feeling. It was safe, but it was also the area where he and Leigh, along with some of the others, had almost died.
When Vertoyi, the corrupted Custodian, had controlled the Grove, the clearing was where they had battled. Vertoyi had defeated them, could have killed them, but Leigh had saved them by showing the High Elf Druid a corrupted Shambler seed. Seeing that had shocked Vertoyi out of madness, and he had ended up taking his own life.
Or giving it freely to cure the Branch of the World Tree.
No matter how long Leigh was Custodian, Hall would always remember that fight when walking through the clearing.
He heard a low moo from the side, looking over to see Angus lying on the grass. The highland cow, brown with a thick coat of shaggy hair and two long horns, glared at Hall. The cow’s dark eyes were barely visible
through the thick fur hanging over them. It wasn’t that Angus didn’t like Hall, he was just very protective of Leigh.
And a little jealous.
The cow grumbled as he lifted himself up from the ground. Hall wasn’t sure, but he thought Angus had grown some in the last couple of weeks. He probably had. Pets in Sky Realms Online gained levels as well, gaining new abilities. Angus’s abilities were based around his strength and toughness, so it stood to reason that he would only grow larger.
“Hello, Angus,” Hall said, reaching out to scratch the cow as he walked by.
Angus mooed grumpily but still let Hall scratch him, stopping so Hall could get at the spot just above his rump. The grumpy moo turned to one of pleasure.
Hall laughed. Angus gave a harrumph and walked into the cave.
Looking up into the sky, Hall tried to gauge the time by the sun. He could barely make it out over the tops of the trees. The mountain that contained Meadow Grove, the first peak in the Frost Tip range, towered over all, casting most of the meadow in shadow. Hall could barely make out the highest, and smallest, of the mountains’ two plateaus. The start of the watchtower was visible, four thick posts with planking covering the lower half.
