The Ice Lands

by William Dickey

  †Gravity Spear†

  Damage: 2-500

  Durability: 800/800

  Requirements: Level 40, Strength requirements vary depending on current weight setting

  Additional Attributes: Can alter its weight

  Description: A complex steel spear designed to collapse. The mana crystal in the spear’s head powers the set of weight modification sigils placed all along the spear’s shaft.

  “Not bad,” said Kanis, setting down his hammer and walking over to me to get a closer look. “The basic form is the same, but where did you learn how to do all that with mana crystals and sigils.”

  “I picked up a few more things this past year,” I smiled.

  Kanis was a skilled but otherwise was an ordinary blacksmith who’d spent his life in a small town, he had little exposure to magic.

  “This particular set of sigils lets me modify the spear’s weight. Here, look.”

  I moved the spear to a sturdy workbench, pressed a button around halfway down the spear’s length and cranked the dial next to it to the maximum. The spear hummed to life, the sigils along it acquired a faint black-violet glow, and the workbench groaned as its burden suddenly became much greater.

  After the weight had stabilized, I went over to the spear and tried to pick it up. It didn’t budge. Then I motioned for Kanis to try, but he couldn’t do it either. The spear ordinarily weighed around 15 pounds, if I laid the sigils correctly, they should have multiplied the weight by twenty fold, meaning the maximum weight of the spear was approximately 300 pounds. Even the fiercest armor would be devastated by a blow with such weight backing it.

  I imagined the perfect use of such a spear. I’d quietly move the spear into the proper position and thrust it towards Izusa while it was light. Then, mid-stroke, I’d activate the sigils and magnify the spear’s force to frightening proportions, where it would drill through any defense Izusa could muster.

  “Not bad,” said Kanis.

  “It’s all thanks to your tutelage,” I replied as I quickly stowed the spear away. It would do no good to get caught in the final moment, but it turned out my worries were unnecessary.

  I spent another hour helping Kanis finish a few more weapons until I heard a commotion coming from outside. By the time I turned around to look, Izusa was already lifting aside the yurt flap to get inside.

  “What are you doing out here?” said Izusa, her rage inlaid voice suppressed between clenched teeth. We were heading back out the next day and given the strained relations she’d displayed with the other beastmen, I doubted she wanted to draw unnecessary attention.

  “I would have thought it obvious,” I said, setting down the hammer in my hand. “I just went out to stretch my legs. You were still sleeping and didn’t want to disturb you. While I was out, I happened to bump into Kanis and decided to lend the old man a hand.”

  “That is all you were doing? You were not trying to run away?” Izusa frowned.

  “If I was trying to get away would I be here? I’ve seen the light, I know I’m caught and fighting it is only going to bring me trouble,” I lied.

  ‘Highly illogical… I doubt she will fall for that excuse,’ said Mai.

  “Fine,” Izusa grumbled, proving herself more thickheaded than Mai expected. “Come on. You are not to leave my side until we get to Doraga.”

  I waved goodbye to Kanis as Izusa grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me back to the army camp. I found the event embarrassing, which wasn’t helped by Mai, who followed behind shouting, ‘Extra. Extra. Read all about it: Hero of Crystalpeak becomes Othan whipping boy.’

  “Gwak, gawk, gawk.”

  Bolevard coughed up another lungful of water. He’d long lost count of how many times this had happened. He’d long lost how long it’d been since that mysterious light had whisked him from the battlefield. When he was first taken, Bolevard thought he’d died and gone to heaven, he held no memory of his death, but figuring the last thing he remembered was being in the midst of a beastmen attack, what else could have happened but his death.

  He found himself in a strange world filled with people dressed in the strangest attire. Not a single man bore arms or armor and all the women wore clothes so revealing in both cut and fit, every one of them made Bolevard’s blood boil. Bolevard was convinced it was heaven, but before he could so much as request a ride on one of those lovely ladies, Bolevard was snatched up and thrown into a cell.

  It was then that Bolevard changed his mind, he hadn’t gone to heaven but somewhere considerably lower. Most of his time was consumed in a tiny cell of stone and steel where he was savaged by solitude and boredom, but periodically they’d make his torture a bit more personal.

  Two men, it was always the same two, would punch him in the face, throw a bag over his head, and drag him to another larger room where they’d repeatedly shove his head in a tub of water until he was on the brink of drowning. Between rounds of water, his torturers would ask questions.

  Few of the questions made sense to Bolevard and he always answered to the best of his ability, but his torturers always pretended to believe he was holding back.

  Bolevard’s torturers were two hulking middle-aged men, one with blond hair and the other with black. In Bolevard’s presence, they always referred to each other as Mr. Blond and Mr. Black, though those weren’t their real names.

  Gwak, gawk, gawk,” Bolevard coughed up the water.

  “You know I’m really getting tired of this,” said Mr. Blond though Bolevard doubted he meant it. Between the two torturers, Mr. Blond was the only one who seemed to take pleasure in his work.

  “I don’t know anything more,” said Bolevard. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

  “As always,” Mr. Blond smiled. “At least once more.”

  Mr. Blond signaled his partner with a circular twirl of his forefinger and Mr. Black threw the bag back over Bolevard’s head and lifted Bolevard to his feet.

  “It doesn’t hurt to play things safe and keep trying, you never know,” Mr. Blond shrugged.

  From there, Bolevard was led through a long hallway, up a flight of stairs, which was a challenge blindfolded, and back to his cell.

  Once he’d nursed the bump on his head from being pushed to the cement floor and made sure he was alone, Bolevard quietly whispered, “Status.”

  Name

  †Bolevard Croch†

  Level

  5

  Class

  None

  Exp

  327/350

  Health

  150/200

  Satiety

  65/100

  Stamina

  140/150

  Hydration

  110/100

  Mana

  0/0

  Status

  Morose

  Vitality

  20

  Strength

  15

  Agility

  10

  Endurance

  15

  Magic

  0

  Dexterity

  10

  Energy

  0

  Defense

  15

  Intelligence

  10

  †Skills†

  †Sword Mastery Lvl. 3 (29.4%)†

  †Barter Lvl. 2 (67.3%)†

  †Oxygen Deprivation Resistance Lvl. 6 (12.5%)†

  Bolevard may have once believed he was in heaven, or in hell, but after the second round of repeated drowning gave him Oxygen Deprivation Resistance, he figured out the truth.

  Bolevard had heard plenty of stories about the mysterious arrival of immortals from another world. He’d heard of their abilities and had a rough idea how they worked. It didn’t take long to figure out the rest.

  He was in the world the immortals originated from and possessed the same abilities.

  Bolevard knew these powers would lead to his salvation, he just needed to figure out how. Until then, Bolevard tried to fill his time
by getting stronger. His torture session that day had advanced his Oxygen Deprivation Resistance by 8%. Not much, especially considering he didn’t see how it was useful other than make his sessions more bearable, but it was something.

  After checking his skill gains, Bolevard looked under his bed and checked his trap. In the back corner sat a spoonful of food Bolevard set aside from his meager portion. Bolevard sighed. His trap was empty.

  Bolevard called it a trap but it wasn’t really, his stark cell had nothing he could use for a proper trap. Bolevard used the scrap of food as a lure and whenever something came for it, he’d kill it. Rats were worth two experience points and cockroaches were worth one. One time, Bolevard got lucky and killed a possum for seven points.

  It wasn’t much, but Bolevard had earned 57 experience towards the next level this way. He still had a long way to go before he’d see a benefit, but in his desperate situation it was hope and even the smallest shred did wonders against despair.

  A couple hours later, something strange happened. Bolevard was awoken by footsteps coming down the hall but it was too early for either his next meal or next session with Mr. Blond and Mr. Black. Bolevard climbed off the wooden pallet that served as his bed and went to the narrow slot through which his food was served.

  It was the two torturers and for a second Bolevard worried that they’d decided to increase the frequency of their visits, but the two men carried someone else with them, someone with a bag over their head, a new prisoner.

  The prisoner’s head was covered but Bolevard could tell from the thin delicate shape of the body it was a woman and he could tell from the pale green tint of her skin that she wasn’t human. Bolevard had never seen an elf before, the different races didn’t interact much and when they did it was rarely on good terms, but Bolevard had heard stories about elves since he was a boy and the descriptions fit.

  “Can you believe they finally found another one,” said Mr. Blond as they came to a stop just a few steps past the door to Bolevard’s cell.

  “It was about time. We haven’t been able to produce enough results with the first one,” said Mr. Black as he used the keycard from around his neck to open the cell next door.

  “I still think we should get started on this one right away,” said Mr. Blond with sickening eagerness. The elf woman squealed as Mr. Blond twisted her arm. He couldn’t wait to get started.

  “No, it’s late and I’d like to get some shuteye tonight,” said Mr. Black. “Besides it’s not as if we’re paid overtime.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Blond sighed just before two resounding thuds. One as the elf woman hit the floor and another as the cell door slammed shut. “But we start with her first thing tomorrow. We need to start showing more results and given where this one was found she has to know something.”

  The two men walked away, their conversation continued but Bolevard could no longer make out what they were saying. It was drowned out by the sobs coming up from a small vent on the ground of Bolevard’s cell.

  The vent was only a few inches across, too small to be useful for escape and before now it’s only purposes were to allow entry of the pests he killed for experience points and to periodically circulate the cell’s stale air.

  “Hey, can you hear me?” said Bolevard into the vent as loudly as he could without shouting. He didn’t want to distress the elf woman any further.

  The sobs choked to a stop. “Yes?” a soft slightly high-pitched voice tentatively chimed. “Who is this and where is your voice coming from?”

  “My name is Bolevard and I’m the prisoner in the next cell over. My voice is coming through the vent in the floor,” Bolevard explained.

  “Some light took you as well?” the elf woman asked.

  “Yes, and dropped me in the middle of some town called Redding. They picked me up not long after and I was eventually brought here. That was a couple months ago, I think, it’s hard to keep track. What about you?” Bolevard asked.

  “I’m Sylph. I arrived in the middle of some courtyard… it was a bit plain and strangely pentagonal in shape. Then a bunch of angry humans in patchy clothes with different shades of brown and green were on me in seconds. Do you know what’s going on? I have no idea how I got into human territory. I was over 2000 miles away in Tirnanog,” said Sylph.

  “Do you know about all the humans that appeared a year ago? They all had some weird powers but most notably whenever they died they resurrect in the nearest town a week later,” asked Bolevard. He knew the phenomena had occurred all across Xebrya but hadn’t known if it had occurred in other nations.

  “Everyone knows about that,” Sylph huffed, believing that Bolevard was mocking her intelligence.

  “No, you see, I wasn’t sure if it happened in Gudria, I’m from Xebrya,” Bolevard explained. “Anyway I think we were taken to the world those humans came from and we have the same powers they had after they were moved to another world.”

  “That can’t be,” Sylph scoffed.

  “It is,” Bolevard reaffirmed. “Just say ‘Status.’”

  “Status,” Sylph tried.

  Bolevard waited a long moment as the elf woman remained silent. Bolevard knew it was a shock and would likely take Sylph several days to absorb it completely.

  “Look, I know it all must be overwhelming, but you need to be ready for what comes next,” said Bolevard.

  “Next?” Sylph shuddered.

  “Soon, probably in less than a day, the two men who brought you here will come back. They will throw a bag back over your head and drag you to another room,” Bolevard paused at this point to take a deep breath. Although he’d acquired a resistance to the pair’s treatments, they still made up all the worst moments in his life. All hardships Bolevard suffered before he came to this world could be recalled fondly in comparison. “There they will hold your head in a bucket of water until you are on the brink of death. They will repeat this several times, only stopping for you to catch your breath. After several rounds, they’ll ask you a few questions. You probably won’t understand most of them and know that regardless of how you answer the result will be the same. They’ll think you’re still hiding something and they’ll keep on doing it. Trust me, I’ve been here for months and they’re still at it.”

  “Then we are doomed, there’s nothing we can do,” Sylph whimpered.

  “I may not have a way out yet, but I haven’t given up hope. We have one thing in our advantage. Our torturers haven’t figured out the powers we’ve attained from the light that took us here. Whatever you do during your interrogation, don’t tell them anything related to that,” Bolevard suggested.

  “They don’t know about our powers, we’re immortal. We can kill ourselves and escape,” said Sylph.

  “Don’t be so hasty,” said Bolevard. He’d thought through such simple schemes long ago. “When we resurrect it’ll be in the middle of the nearest city, completely naked. How long do you think before you’d get caught again?”

  “Oh,” Sylph huffed.

  “Don’t worry. Now that you’re here as well I’m sure we can work together to find something,” said Bolevard.

  “What do you have in mind?” Sylph asked.

  “Well, you’re an elf, so you must have magic. The people of this world don’t, so they probably don’t have any means to defend against it,” said Bolevard.

  “That won’t work,” Sylph replied. “Elven magic works by manipulating the life energy in plants and animals. It won’t work here where everything is covered by rock and metal and nothing is green.”

  Bolevard was disheartened. For a moment, he thought his problems were solved.

  “There is something else though. I might not be able to do magic,” said Sylph. “But human magic doesn’t rely on such things. Why don’t you use that?”

  Bolevard had thought about that as well. When he finally gained a level and acquired some unassigned stat points, he could use them to give himself magical ability. However, that was only half the problem.

&nb
sp; “I never studied it. Very few humans can do magic and although I could give myself the ability through the menus now, it won’t work without knowing the sigils,” Bolevard explained.

  “But I know some of the sigils you human use,” said Sylph.

  Ch. 3: Conspiracy

  “Hey, wake up.”

  A barefoot kicked me while I was buried under several thick covers. Izusa couldn’t have known what exactly she kicked, but the sharp sting in the soft unprotected flesh just under my ribs still somehow increased my ire towards her. I may have been her prisoner, but she still wanted something from me. I figured the least she could do was treat me humanely.

  “It is time for us to go.” Izusa threw in another kick this time not quite as hard, though with the lingering pain of the first strike this one felt significantly worse.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I groaned as I tossed off the warm fur covers and immediately regretted it. Through the open tent flap, it was clearly just after sunset, a dash of pink still clung to the horizon even though stars littered the rest of the sky.

  I got to my feet as slowly as possible, taking time to stretch every joint before putting on my coat and following Izusa outside.

  “Hurry up. It is best we get out of here as soon as possible,” said Izusa.

  Each of my strides was half of hers so I had to work twice as hard just to keep up.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I replied.

  “And why are we going on foot? It’d be a lot faster if I rode,” I asked.

  ‘You can’t wait to mount her, you dirty boy,’ Mai giggled.

  “The same reason we walked in. We have to leave on foot for appearance’s sake. Once we get far enough away, you will be riding. It will be a lot faster that way,” said Izusa as she picked up her pace. She pulled away a fair distance without looking back. As frustrated as I was with my situation, I followed, Izusa was my only protector in this land full of enemies.