Kingdom's Forge: Book 01 - Paladin's Redemption

by Kade Derricks

  The bottom three shelves contained weighty tomes on topics ranging from mineralogy and economics to the proper construction of defensive structures, but it was the two shelves above that held his interest. Baylest owned a sizable collection of Taelon the Traveler books.

  Taelon was the world’s most famous explorer. He was broadly recognized as the most widely traveled historian to have ever lived, and to this day, almost forty years after his first journey, his notes and maps were still used as reference points and directions. Many of the areas the traveler had mapped remained unsettled and unexplored, still wrapped in mystery. Each of Taelon’s expeditions had been compiled into its own book, and Baylest had managed to put together fifteen of them, the largest collection Dain had ever seen. Many of the great libraries in his homeland, including his father’s, never housed so many. Gently, he slid one out of its place and began browsing through one of Taelon’s more recent explorations, his journey to the source of the Tyber River.

  The description of the vast, empty grasslands didn’t do the area justice. If one knew where to look, there were huge, rocky hills and still lakes surrounded by the sea of tall grasses. Dain’s job had once been to look. Perhaps Taelon’s oversight was understandable; he had spent a much longer time there than the explorer had. He also had the benefit of thousands of mercenaries at his side. Taelon had taken less than a dozen, and the native Tyberons did not like guests.

  Dain smiled to himself. No, they don’t like guests at all.

  “Excuse me. Please be careful with that. They are quite rare,” Drogan said, jarring Dain from his reverie. “I’ve spent a small fortune to gather those. Not to mention a considerable investment in my time.”

  Dain turned and looked up to see both Baylest and Shyla staring at him. Each seemed agitated, although for very different reasons, he guessed. Shyla clearly didn’t like having her business disrupted or delayed, and Drogan seemed anxious about the book.

  “Sorry, this one’s a bit personal for me. You have an impressive collection. I’ve only managed to read four or five of these,” he said. He closed the book and slid it back into its place.

  “Thank you, sir,” Drogan Baylest replied with a measure of visible relief. He started to say more when Shyla interrupted.

  “Now that you’ve heard our prices and agreed to terms of payment, I would like to see the patients.”

  “Of course, Priestess, please follow me,” the miner replied. Heading for the door, he rose from his seat behind the desk.

  Baylest led them out of the room and back down the front stairs. He paused after pulling the door closed then locked it with a brass key pulled from beneath his shirt. A chain held it around his broad neck.

  “Priestess, if you’ll follow me, we’ll start in the east tunnels. It’s break time now, and the men should be gathered up in the smelter room with their meals,” he said.

  “Underground? We have to go underground?” Shyla exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it be better to bring them back up to the surface, so we could examine them better?” Her tone betrayed her apprehension.

  “Well, that’s where the miners are. I assure you there’s plenty of light down there. You’ll hardly even know you’re underground,” the miner replied in what he clearly thought was a comforting tone. Shyla looked unconvinced. For his own part, Dain had never seen a gold mine before and was looking forward to the tour.

  Baylest set a quick pace with Shyla following close behind and Dain bringing up the rear. At the main entrance, the odd wooden structure built into the mountainside, he removed two torches from a barrel and lit the first from an oil lantern before leading them down the tunnel into the mountain. Pulleys squeaked overhead as the cable swung the great buckets past them.

  “Watch your head. These waste buckets are heavy and pack a wallop if they hit you,” Baylest cautioned.

  Dain counted three hundred steps before the tunnel branched left and right. Here was the cable system’s large, cast-iron return pulley, where the buckets began their journey, and four men shoveled loose rock into each as they swung by. A fifth stood at the side and ran an overhead hand brake. He stopped each bucket so it could be loaded. Nearby, a pair of metal tracks ran down each of the mine’s side tunnels. On the right track, a car sat piled high with busted-up rock. Dain watched one of the miners pull a lever on the cart’s side, dumping the payload into the pile the men were shoveling.

  “This is the waste rock you see being dumped here. We extract the gold underground then bring the waste to the surface, first through the ore carts, and then the overhead tram system. This allows us to dig ever deeper into the mountain. We can also reverse the system to bring wooden timbers back down for framing up the sides so the tunnel doesn’t collapse on us. These same carts haul coal, too, which we use to generate steam and power the equipment,” Baylest said. “Priestess, would you see to these men while we’re here? Men, this is Priestess Shyla and her bodyguard. She’ll see to any wounds or sicknesses you have.”

  “How deep is the mine?” Dain asked as Shyla began checking on the miners.

  “Even after two years we’re still just scratching the surface on this one,” said Baylest. “We’ve already mined about a mile further in and the gold veins show no sign of playing out. The next step is to drop a shaft deeper, but we’ve hit water and need pumps before we start doing that. Water in a mine is a pretty dangerous thing.”

  “These men are healed. One of them had a minor lung infection and two of the others had some significant cuts and scrapes,” Shyla said.

  “Well, let’s continue on then,” Baylest said. He led them down the path on the left. “Watch out for any ore carts. If one comes up the tracks you’ll have to squeeze up against the walls or be crushed,” he added.

  Dain stifled a chuckle as he heard Shyla mutter a foul curse. He suspected he’d be the one paying for all this later, on the ride home. He expected she would have a whole new list of complaints for the long ride.

  “I haven’t seen any timber supports so far. How do you know where you need them?” he asked as they walked deeper into the mountain.

  “Usually you’ll see big cracks in the rock. That’s where a fracture or fault line lies, and on one side the rock is slipping and sliding on the other. So far, we’ve been able to get by with relatively few timbers. A stroke of luck for us, since sturdy timber is terribly expensive up here with so many mines all competing for it. The elves won’t allow us to harvest their forests and the orcs dwell near the few decent trees on the slopes, so timber has to be imported from Ghent,” Drogan answered. “When we reach the smelter, I’ll show you how we’re able to avoid most of the fault lines.”

  Shyla started inspecting the walls and ceilings while folding her hands in prayer, Dain noticed. Sweat beaded up on her forehead, reflecting the torchlight. He considered tossing her into an ore cart if she fainted. He didn’t plan on carrying her out.

  For the next hour, they continued down, turning often, descending further and further into the mountain. Three times they arrived at a fork in the tunnels, and though Dain was soon lost, Baylest led them on without hesitation, stopping only to wait on the priestess at times. Shyla tried to ignore the heavy framing timbers as they passed through them, but Dain caught her stealing glances at the wide, black cracks the timbers supported. He felt a bit uneasy himself after seeing fractures wider than his hand spiderwebbing into the surrounding granite.

  How much does a mountain weigh? That, he decided, was a question better left unanswered.

  Finally, they approached a heavy door, which the mine owner swung open into a large, brightly lit room. Dain scanned the room as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light.

  On his left an idle bellows stood next to an open furnace. A lazy, orange flame danced in its hearth. At the furnace’s side lay a pile of dark ore that glistened with thousands of tiny flakes of gold, and nearby was a mound of lumpy black coal. In the room’s center stood a series of workbenches. Sets of cast iron pans sat on each, along with piles of c
hisels and hammers. Opposite the furnace was an imposing steel vault, and closer than all the smelting equipment, just inside the door, almost thirty men sat around a table, sharing a meal. Each stared at their visitors.

  “This is the smelter room,” Baylest said, gesturing with one arm. “Men, this is Priestess Shyla and her bodyguard. She is here to check on you and heal any injuries or illnesses you may have.”

  “I will start on this end of the table and work my way around,” Shyla said. She began examining the miners. For all her poor temperament, Dain had to admit she seemed competent.

  He asked Drogan about the smelter equipment’s purpose, and the mine owner was explaining how the furnace worked, how the miners separated the gold from the ore, and how much coal they used to make steam when Shyla interrupted.

  “By the Light…these men are disgusting. Covered in dust and grime. I do not understand how anyone could tolerate such a smell. When is the last time they bathed?” She pinched her nose closed with one hand, gagging, and then approached the next patient.

  “You couldn’t find an uglier woman, Drogan? The bodyguard ought to be protecting us from her,” a deep voice in the back boomed.

  Shyla stopped casting a healing spell, glaring hatefully toward the table’s end. The men gathered there all lowered their heads, studying their empty plates to avoid meeting her searching gaze. Unable to locate the voice’s owner, she turned a baleful eye toward Drogan and Dain.

  “Is this my thanks for climbing down into this dark and dank hell to treat these filthy wretches?”

  Drogan’s mouth opened, but couldn’t seem to form any words.

  “And you,” Shyla hissed, turning on Dain, “Priest Verdant paid you to be my bodyguard, yes? Go find whoever that was and teach them some manners.”

  “Teaching manners isn’t part of my job, priestess. I’m only here to keep you safe,” he responded. He certainly wasn’t going to get himself into a fight with thirty tough miners over her hurt feelings.

  “Let me save you some trouble, most holy priestess,” the voice taunted, “and don’t bother threatening me with some swordsman or by withholding your precious healing from me.” A stocky dwarf appeared around the far end of the table and approached Shyla. A series of small beads were woven into his long, red beard. They jangled as he walked.

  “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even uglier up close,” he continued. Emphasizing his point, he closed the gap between them to only a couple of feet then leaned forward, stroking the beard. Shyla seemed frozen in shock and rage.

  “Razel,” Baylest finally managed to say. “Show some respect. Don’t talk to our guests that way.”

  “Bah, healers. So damned sensitive. I was hoping for a young one who might show a bit of skin for the boys here. They’re awful lonely. Most haven’t seen a woman in at least half a year,” the dwarf said with a mischievous grin.

  “Razel, our guests are here to help, not to entertain you,” Drogan said wearily.

  “Well, next time ask for a pretty one who can do both,” Razel said, walking toward the mine owner. “I’m sure the bodyguard would appreciate it as well, wouldn’t you, friend?”

  Dain suppressed his urge to nod.

  Razel shrugged. “Since you’ve no further need of me here, Baylest, I’m going to check the mine face and do some soundings.” He stepped out the door and vanished into the mineshaft.

  Shyla recovered her voice.

  “I’ll…I’ll…I’ll turn that miserable little bag of guts inside out!” she said as she began to chase after him.

  Baylest managed to position himself directly in the doorway, trapping the red-faced priestess inside. She pushed against him, but he used both arms to hold her inside. That didn’t stop her from screaming a litany of obscenities and curses down the tunnel after the dwarf. After exhausting her surprising vocabulary of curses, she squeezed her fists tightly and threw back her head, letting out a lengthy howl, before finally turning and stomping back to the tables.

  Other than the hard click of her shoes, no one made a sound while she completed her examinations and healings of the miners.

  Dain overheard Baylest dispatching one of his men to the other groups, warning them not to interfere with the enraged healer. And forewarned, the remaining healings in the mine’s other rooms went without incident.

  After finishing with their tasks in the mine, Drogan led Shyla and Dain back to the surface.

  The priestess stormed out from the tunnel mouth toward her waiting horse like a thundercloud. Both her hands were balled into tight fists, and she pumped her arms furiously with each stride.

  Dain hoped the animal was sensitive to its rider’s moods; she would probably beat the beast to death at the slightest offense.

  He stopped next to Drogan at the end of the mineshaft. Both men paused. They watched the priestess struggle with the horse’s reins.

  “You mentioned something about using fewer timbers?” Dain asked.

  “What?” The mine owner continued to stare ahead.

  “Using less timber supports than the other mines. There’s a secret to it?”

  “Oh yes, the dwarves in my employ are able to sense, better than any human miner, where the faults are in the rock ahead. Most of the time they can maneuver the shaft around the danger into the safer areas.”

  “Interesting,” Dain said, and was about to inquire further when a strangled shout came from the direction of the horses.

  Shyla had made the mistake of untying her horse’s reins and at the same time spooking the animal, all while trying to mount. Whenever she stepped close to the horse, trying for the stirrups, it sidestepped away, making her stumble. She was chasing the animal in a small circle while jerking on the reins violently, emitting high-pitched squeals of displeasure all the while. Again she unleashed a chain of obscenities, this time on the frightened horse.

  “I hope you’re getting paid a lot,” Drogan said, shaking his head. He stood still, transfixed by the scene below.

  “Not nearly enough,” Dain replied.

  Eventually, Dain had managed to calm the horse long enough for Shyla to mount. It took him the better part of an hour, along with a generous bribe of oats and corn, to get the skittish animal settled.

  Neither rider spoke on the slow amble back to town. The priestess seemed content to mumble to herself, and Dain caught only a few bits and pieces of her numerous complaints. He enjoyed the relative silence.

  The shadows lengthened as they approached Galena, and lamplighters worked their rounds along the streets. As the pair rode closer, Dain noticed a large number of brown canvas tents pitched at the far end of town that hadn’t been there when they’d left earlier that day. They had been erected with crisp precision, each one perfectly square to its neighbors as well as to the town’s main street. The spacing between them was so even it looked as if someone had surveyed the site and ran stringlines before setting them up.

  Pairs of armored guards patrolled along the camp’s perimeter in regular intervals. One carried a heavy crossbow slung over his shoulder, and his partner a long steel-tipped pike as they marched in lockstep. Their shining armor reflected the sun’s final orange rays. No banners flew from the camp, but Dain recognized a military camp when he saw it.

  At the sight of the hospital Shyla spurred her horse on, leaving him trailing behind. She dismounted near the front rail, neglecting to tie the animal and hurrying upstairs, no doubt to Verdant’s office. Dain paused to secure her horse before hitching Boon up alongside. Upon entering he heard her voice echo down the stairwell.

  “Priest Verdant, I must speak with you. This bargain to send us into the mines just will not do. Those men are ill-mannered, disrespectful, and disgusting.”

  “Was there trouble, then?” Verdant asked.

  “Haven’t you been listening? As I told you, that beast, Drogan Baylest, forced me down into the dank, dirty mine, jeopardizing my safety, and there I was repeatedly insulted. That cowardly paladin oaf you sent alo
ng did nothing while I was mocked and laughed at. I represented you well, of course, and did my best to heal those pitiful misguided souls, despite their rudeness.”

  “Of course,” Verdant replied blandly.

  Dain started to climb the stairs to the priest’s office.

  “I wanted to make you proud because I knew it was important to you, and to the hospital, but this arrangement simply won’t do. I am certain I can be of more service to our noble calling and to you by remaining here at the hospital, under your close, personal guidance.”

  “Well, I’m sure you did a wonderful job, Shyla. The hospital thanks you for your diligent service. I feel terrible that the miners mistreated you. Rest assured I’ll talk to Dain and remind him of his responsibilities,” Verdant said.

  Dain turned into the office at the last comment. He expected to see a look of triumph from Shyla, but she had eyes only for Verdant. She blushed and even batted her eyelashes at him. Dain fought back the urge to chuckle. He seemed to be doing that with alarming frequency of late.

  “Ah! Here he is now,” Verdant said, gesturing Dain into the office. “I will speak with him immediately, if you’ll excuse us.” He indicated for Dain to take a seat across from his desk.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be on my way to the kitchen and then to my quarters if you need me,” she cooed back at him before leaving the office.

  Verdant watched her go, and then closed the door while Dain took the chair he had offered.

  “So, how did it really go?” the priest asked in a low voice. Verdant rubbed both his eyes wearily.

  “She complained the whole ride up there. Baylest did get her down into the mine, though. As soon as she began healing she started complaining about the miners. A dwarf joked about her appearance, after she started complaining. Shyla went ballistic, but Drogan stepped in to protect either the dwarf from her or her from the dwarf, I haven’t decided. She did manage to fire off an impressive string of decidedly un-priestess-like curses before getting back to healing. The spells were a bit rough after that. A few of the men may complain, but I doubt it. On the way out she had trouble mounting her horse, and then she ended up not speaking the whole ride back,” Dain answered.