by TJ Reynolds
But as the years went by and Rhona’s heart grew jaded, she no longer wanted to share in any false sense of camaraderie. He didn’t respect her anyhow. Even if she joined the Vermillion Guard, and made shield sergeant like he had, he’d still only see tits and weak chin.
Her father insisted, as she knew he would. “Yes, girl. Come now! Regale me with some mishap or... I know. Tell me of your time in the Farthing Highlands. You flushed out a village of gnomes, no? Tell me that one.”
It wasn’t hard remembering what had happened on Rhona’s latest field operation. What was difficult was retelling it to a man who would no doubt consider the act something heroic. But he wouldn’t be put off, and a deep chamber in her heart hoped it might shed light on her recent decision.
Rhona licked her lips and tried to tell the truth without offending her father overmuch.
“We did head to the highlands. Came across some gnomish refugees held up in a mountain pass. They… they were living in a cave, one that the Brintosh kingdom used to mine. As such, it is still considered royal property. A few locals reported the gnomes, and my platoon deployed to get rid of them.”
The big man cut in with a question, not patient enough for Rhona to tell her own story. “Come on then. Did you get to see the little bastards fight? They’re shivving fierce, if you let them be.”
Rhona continued, “We asked their leader if he was willing to pack up and go. He refused, so we waited till nightfall, threw three smokers in with them, and when they ran out choking—”
“And? Don’t just stop there, Rhona!” Her father blustered, his ponderous body leaning forward over the table.
“We shivving killed them all, Da!” Rhona growled, "even the two kids who came out after!”
The way in which Rhona told her story, the iron in her voice that kept building, and the flush that heated her cheeks told her mother and father exactly how she felt about such exploits. Glancing over at the man who’d helped to raise her—for better and often for worse—she saw a flicker of something other than anger and stubborn pride. For a moment, just one cren-packed moment, Rhona thought he might understand, might even tell her it was okay. She’d done her duty and sometimes that was hard.
Instead, he poured another cup of wine, then refilled Rhona’s. When he spoke again, his voice had the tone of authority he used when addressing the guards in town. It was his sergeant voice. “Rhona, I see you’re in pain. But you must understand, soldiers exist to fulfill a single purpose. We’re killers, plain and simple.”
“Drystan, please,” her mother began, but the man raised his hand to silence her.
“It’s true. When I was young, I was forced to raid the villages along the border of Kaltan for months. One day, rather than the usual rabble of half-armed militia, I found a boy on the end of my spear. And when he died, he looked at me and said—”
“What kind of devil are you? I know, Da, you’ve told me a hundred times. I don’t care anymore. The problem with your story is that you didn’t learn from it, see? That was your chance to wake up, look around you. But instead you treat it like proof of your sacred duty. What we, what I did to those gnomes wasn’t good at all!”
Her father leaned forward, hand pressed to the table, and hissed his reply. “They deserved it. Gnomes are scum, girl. Certainly not human. Don’t forget it. If you have to kill a thousand of the bastards for Brintosh, do so with a smile on your face. It’s what career soldiers do. You’re a Bloodspar, Rhona, not some foppish summer soldier joined up for a season to get his pecker wet and to see what lies beyond the next town over!”
She couldn’t hold back any longer. Rhona stood and faced her father. “That’s just the thing though, Da. What I came all the way back to tell you. I’m done with the service. I paid off my armor and have enough coin to last me until I find suitable employ. And for all the respect I still have for the men and women who make up its ranks, I won’t be spending another day in this King’s army. Certainly not while we march for gold and self-glory.”
The silence that followed her pronouncement was deafening. Orla stood and began clearing the table. “I made a batch of sticky buns early today,” she announced in a singsong voice. “Anyone care to try?”
“You what?” He screamed, his cup spilling across the table as he slammed down his meaty fist. “Explain yourself! You are the only child of Drystan the Destroyer! Explain to me what you’ve done!”
“I’m discharged. With high honors, of course. Everyone loves a killer in Brintosh. And that’s all I’ve become. Yet recently, I’ve studied the hand and foot fighting techniques of old Brintosh. I’ll be leaving my sword and armor with you, Father, so you should be happy. I don’t need it. Figured you could give it to one of the militiamen in town.” Rhona stopped her rant for a moment, took a deep breath and prayed to Yugos for strength.
Then, meeting the great man’s irate gaze, she pleaded once more for reason. “Will you please, Da, will you just give me your blessing. I want out of this life. I’ve done my time and now I need something else.”
Drystan stomped around the table, batting Orla aside when she tried to intervene. He was old and fat, his body riddled with scars, and as with many great warriors, had lost a tier of his ascension with age and lack of training. But Drystan the Destroyer remained strong in body and spirit.
He shoved Rhona. She flew back and slammed into the wall, her teeth clacking together with the impact. She tasted blood on her lips, then saw her father pull his hand back and swing.
Her training in the service had taught her to take such a blow, to stand still and absorb the anger and rebuke of a senior officer. Although Drystan was no longer an officer, he remained a hero in Brintosh. Rhona’s own childhood had taught her the same. When her father raged, it was best to take your beating and only then beg for forgiveness.
That was what her mother did, to this day.
What choice did the woman have, anyhow?
But Rhona had trained with Palben, a monk who walked The Path of the Bleeding Tiger. So yes, Rhona let the blow land. As her father’s fist fell, she swiveled her head, reducing the impact of the punch. Her teeth cut into her lips, her mouth filling with blood.
Pain unfolded like a white blossom.
Yet even as she was wounded, the ether in her core shifted, just as Palben had taught her. A portion of the captured ether healed the worst of the cut gums and loose teeth, and the rest sent a fiery current of power out into her limbs. Rhona’s head rebounded, her neck straightening again, and her torso twisted, channeling the motion of her stumble and the ether she’d unleashed.
To Drystan’s great surprise, Rhona’s fists shot out. She struck his elbow and bicep with darting jabs, another strike aimed at his shoulder joint landed after. Each attack was little more than a tap but fell fast as hail, each infused with a thread of ether. The attacks sounded like muted drum beats, sinking into her father’s flesh.
Her final attack was just as fast though twice as devastating. Even while his right arm curled in, responding to the damage it had received, she struck out with her palm, taking him in the short ribs below his outstretched arm. Four bones broke in the side of his chest, cracking like twigs. The blow sent a charge of ether deep within to score the bottom of his lung.
His eyes flashed wide, and when he tried to take another swing at her, he fell to a knee and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
“What have ya done, Rhona? Oh, my Drystan. Are you all right?” Orla said, trying to lift the man off the floor.
Instead of welcoming her aid, he shoved Rhona’s mother and she fell down on her backside, knocking one of the chairs to the ground with her. She began crying in earnest. Knowing only one way to deal with the situation, she lashed out at Rhona. “Why did you do that? We were happy, didn’t you see? Why won’t you just let us be happy, Rhona?”
“This is happy?” Rhona asked, gesturing at her bleeding mouth. She spit on the ground, eerily matching the rage in her father’s eyes.
Drystan struggl
ed to stand again, but grunted as the pain under his arm became too great. His glare faltered and he stared down at his palm where a score of old, grisly scars lay. There was one for each of the battles he’d fought in, or so he had told her a thousand times. He won’t change. That you thought he might shows how much of a fool you are, Rhona. He’ll die with the same black heart he’s always had.
Rhona knew what to do, what she should have done before coming back to this wretched place. She needed to cut this place, these people, out of her heart like the rotten core of an otherwise good apple.
She looked to her mother and told her all she couldn’t say with words: that she loved her and always would, that she honored her as a mother, and that she was sorry the poor woman had to live with a thug and a cur like her father.
And then she left.
Rhona found her travel pack near the door where she’d left it. She glanced at the carbonite, Brintoshi sword, easily worth a pouch of gold or a warhorse. She left it sitting there beside her armor, more reminders of the fool she’d been. Valuable and peerlessly crafted, the equipment was simply part of the past she’d leave behind.
She snatched up her cloak and stormed out into the night.
Her gelding, Honor, chuffed in delight, trotting in place as she opened the barn and began saddling him. There was no way she’d leave this treasure behind.
Honor had been with her for two years now, and his heart was as true as a knight’s lance. Rhona leapt up on his back and galloped away.
The cold made the cuts in her mouth smart, and she breathed in deeper because of it. She would embrace this pain for it meant only one thing. Rhona Bloodspar would remember the night she bid her father goodbye and never looked back.
10
While the Hero Toils
Bancroft
Ban viewed the frantic efforts of his dragonling with frank and unguarded concern. His worries had little to do with courage, thank Yugos. After having recovered from his instinctive repulsion to the giant rodents, Kai had faced each new battle earnestly. But the young man’s every attack was characterized by the same blind aggression and inept swordplay as a virgin on his wedding night.
Brave though he was, Kai was untrained and unskilled.
Seeking to ease his anxiety and growing boredom, Ban continued with his side project, digging out more rooms deeper within the dungeon. He knew they did not need more rooms, but even at his current level, Ban had a large area of influence.
He could see and manipulate the world nearly three hundred feet in all directions. This meant that Ban could watch the deer that fed on the grassy slopes above him. He could burrow in the earth far below and search for pockets of new ore, for more skeletons to add to his collection of creature designs, and to keep himself busy while Kai toiled away, collecting Progression as fast as he could manage it.
So far, Ban had discovered an additional four sets of skeletal remains, one of which was the most promising yet. It had a vaguely humanoid shape. The dungeon knew that it would have a higher summoning cost and would make possible the creation of a creature of higher intelligence. That could be useful, not at this moment but possibly later on.
Throwing the creature at Kai in his current state seemed the worst of ideas.
“Come on already! Come on!” Kai jeered, circling yet another rat in his frantic pursuit of ascension. The rodent darted in, only to receive a nick from Kai’s wild swing of the blade. The rat now exercised more caution than its brethren. It made sense that some mobs would be more intelligent than the others, Ban supposed, but Kai did not appear to appreciate this bit of logic.
“Why isn’t it attacking?” he asked Ban, frustration leaking out with every harsh breath.
Ban sighed then told the boy the obvious answer. I believe, my good friend, that it has learned you have a pointy stick and it doesn’t want to be stuck with it again.
Kai groaned, and rather than approaching the situation cautiously or trying to back the beast into a corner, he charged the wary rat. The rat skittered away deftly, just in time to avoid Kai’s attack but leaving a set of bleeding furrows in the boy’s leg.
“Gah! No, you damn rodent, hold still!” Kai bellowed and tried again.
Ban watched the adventurer’s movements with disappointment.
How could he be so unskilled?
His previous master, Yorick, was a scholar and almost never wore his sword. He transformed into his scaled and taloned form when away from the cave, but even the few times Ban had seen him practice swordsmanship in his human form, he’d been lithe and graceful as a deadly viper.
That reminded Ban of the long skeleton he had untangled. The creature’s true form had become apparent. It was the sheer size of the thing and its odd-shaped skull that threw Ban off. Also, though he had had sparks of memory slip back to him, the dungeon was afraid he would never fully recover the breadth of knowledge he’d possessed before his breaking.
Ban focused again on the skirmish, just in time to see the happy accident that finished it. Kai stumbled forward, nearly tripping on his own feet, which caused the rat to panic. The beast attacked, giving Kai the opportunity to defend himself with the sharp blade. The poor rat skewered itself on Kai’s blade, as so many others had before it.
Kai did not hesitate to praise himself. “One more down! Yes! I am getting better at this, huh, Ban?”
Even the simple lie was too much for the Earth Core at that point. No, Kai. No, you aren’t. I am happy you haven’t died yet, but in all honesty and in good faith that our bond means more than gold or gems combined, you are a shoddy warrior at best! And please, don’t take this rebuke wrong. I’m no sword master. I can’t teach you a thing. We need a proper trainer, I fear.
Guilt tugged at Ban as his harsh words deflated the young man’s ego immediately. Kai sighed and nodded his head. Yeah, I know. I begged any number of guards to teach me how to wield a sword. It isn’t as simple as it looks. Before this, I’d grown proficient with hammering things on the head with a stick! It is not at all a good way to fight, let me tell you.
The moment stretched awkwardly until the Earth Core, moved by guilt for driving home a point the young man already knew, added, You are brave at least. I could never ask for a dragon with more heart. Skill can be learned, but courage cannot. We both need to be patient. Yorick was Emerald 2 when he left and had over fifty years to his name. Things should begin to change when you ascend to Crimson. You will see.
Kai’s brow furrowed in determination, the one thing he seemed not to lack. “I only have sixteen more to go before I reach 100 Progression. If I push on into the night, I’ll reach Crimson soon enough,” Kai said, his shoulders still slumped.
Fatigue and hunger were things Ban could not fathom, not when his reserves were brimming with AE and materials, but it had been hours since Kai had last rested.
I am sure you will. But please, why don’t we call it a day? It’s late already. Surely, even a body as strong as yours needs sustenance. And besides, I have a treat for you.
Ban summoned a large, gray hare before his dragon, and watched as Kai’s face lit up in recognition. Without hesitation, he struck at and killed the creature. The dungeon watched awhile as Kai excitedly butchered the little beast and built up another fire. There was plenty of fuel, and in short order, Kai was roasting the rabbit with a watering mouth.
“You were right. I’d have once considered that a solid Progression gain, but the thing gave off little more than a trickle. Still, I prefer to eat rabbit over rat any day. Thank you, Ban.”
No problem. More memories are coming back to me, though I am afraid I will never recover all that I once knew, yet I am grateful for any fragment regained.
After Kai had finished his meal and lay down enjoying the fire, Ban felt it was a good time to broach the subject of their tenuous position in Brintosh.
Kai, do you still want to return to Mindonne?
Kai stared at the ceiling, as if tasting each word before letting it pass his lips. I do, b
ut I concede the wisdom of your point. Roarke will no doubt have told every soul in town he saved his friends from the shivvered dungeon. He probably said I didn’t come back alive because I hadn’t listened to his warning or some such. Dunny won’t breathe a word to gainsay his tale, and Karsen’s probably just happy I’m gone.
Ban felt comforted by Kai’s understanding but pressed him further. Yes, but even if the boys hadn’t said a word, you’d still need to be careful. The kingdom of Brintosh won’t stand for a dungeon existing outside their control.
Sitting up with a start, Kai blurted out, “What do you mean? I thought all the Earth Cores were shivvered.”
I’m not entirely sure how many are left, Ban explained, but even before the final purge, the Brintoshi armies converted several dungeons. My master believed they kept them intact. Earth Cores are, if anything, valuable resources.
Kai’s face twisted again. It was almost comical how much emotion the young man could put into a scowl. Then he asked, What’s so valuable about an Earth Core? Aren’t they only valuable to a dragon? Or has Brintosh found a way to make them spawn minions for loot and Progression?
Bran thought a long moment before replying. I’m not sure exactly. You’re right, of course, an Earth Core wouldn’t lift a stone to help anyone who wasn’t a friend of their dragon. But fear can compel even the most reluctant cooperation. I was asked once if I would join with Brintosh. I even seriously considered it, I’m ashamed to admit. Only the thought of serving those who had killed my Yorick drove me to refuse.
Kai’s eyes flashed at the thought. Gods, I can’t imagine you having to work for a bunch of soldiers. They’d run in and out of your entrance all day, laying waste to as much as you could summon. And all for… He stared down at the pile of shining coins on the ground. All for power and riches. So what should we do with all that copper anyhow? And is that the only kind of loot that drops?
