by Eric Ugland
He looked over at the sword in the table.
“Ah. The news of the goblins reached you already.”
“The word of a ranger enough for you, Ornolf?” Hroar asked. “Me and mine, we leave for Arenberg. Ornolf, if you choose to remain, perhaps you finally will have the best tavern in town.”
The room went silent.
“Do you mind?” I asked quietly, reaching between two people to pull the blade from the table. “Kinda hoping to sell this.”
I heard the ranger chuckle.
Chapter 14
Hroar’s decision to leave seemed to make the choice easy for the rest of the villagers: no one was staying. Rumib Pass would be clear by daybreak.
The ranger remained by the fire as everyone else disappeared. He looked me over, really studying me.
“Interesting outfit,” he said.
“Keeps me warm,” I replied.
He nodded. “You the stranger?”
“I guess.”
“You kill the queen’s men?”
“Mostly, yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“Uh, sure.”
He pulled a large coin from his pocket and flipped it my way. I grabbed it from the air, and immediately looked at it. It was a bronze coin, about two inches wide. One side had a tree, and the other had a bird on it, something like an eagle, but not quite. Thicker, more muscular, different shaped tail.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Coin of my unit,” the ranger replied. “This town means something to me, and if you were responsible for saving it, then I owe you.”
“You don’t—”
“Accept the gift, stranger. When you have need of me, get that coin to any Legionnaire, and they will find me.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
The Ranger took two steps to land right in front of me. He grabbed my wrist and shook it.
“Vecto Talotius,” he said.
“Montana,” I replied.
He gave a small smile, and nodded his head. “Safe home.”
“You too.”
He nodded one more time, and strode towards the door. “Tell Hroar I will see him in Arenberg, that I must leave now to warn the commandant.”
“Will do.”
He opened the door, and went into the dark and cold.
I looked at the coin one more time, then slipped it in my bag. I pulled up my attributes, and was just about to look at things and make an educated decision about points when the boy I’d saved, Olief, came inside. I dumped everything into strength because it was at the top of the list, and I didn’t want to think about it at the moment. Olief set a bunch of armor, pouches, and weapons in front of me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Loot from the soldiers.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said.
“The horses are outside. Some of the townsfolk have asked if you will allow the horses to be used to pull wagons.”
“The horses are mine?”
“You killed the owners, so they are yours.”
“I mean, yeah, sure. People can use them.”
The kid smiled, nodded, then ran off.
I took a deep breath, looking over the loot pile. First impulse was to grab the armor Skull Helm wore, but it was pretty well marked as belonging to the Queen’s Army. If I was going to stay in the Empire, it’d be a pretty bad idea to wear the enemy’s armor around, certainly not if I wanted to avoid conflict. To be fair, there was nothing tying me to the Empire besides my somewhat arbitrary decision to help Olief and Rumib Pass. I could just as easily march down to the Queen’s Army and ask to be part of their country. Though, if the Queen had a bounty out on, uh, new visitors, it could be very awkward trying to explain where I came from, if not the Empire.
Plus, the Imperial citizens had given me beer. That’s basically like becoming a citizen.
I set the armor to the side, figuring that, at a minimum, I could find a blacksmith and sell it for scrap. The skull helm was badass in a way, but had the totally wrong vibe for me. I wanted dude you didn’t pay attention to, not dude wearing a fucking skull and killing people. Into the sell pile inside my increasingly stuffed knapsack.
The dude’s sword, though, that was a different matter. It was really nice, much better than the Chopper.
Longsword
Item Type: Common
Item Class: One-handed Melee, Two-handed Melee
Material: Steel
Damage: 10-20 (Slashing)
Durability: 20/20
Weight: 4.8 lbs
Requirements: Str 8
Description: A straight-bladed sword having a cruciform hilt with a grip for one- or two-handed use.
The Chopper went into the bag, and the longsword onto my belt.
There were six pouches in front of me, and, to save time, I just dumped them all out on the table. Most of the contents were coins, the vast bulk being silver. There were a few gold pieces, small and heavy. The silvers were larger, and the coppers the largest. Also, some of the coppers were semi-circles. Half-coppers I suppose. There was also some jewelry, a number of rings, two simple chains, and a locket. Some of it looked nice, some of it less so. One of the rings was quite bulky, and the top had a hinge to it. It opened to reveal a stylized shield with a bloody bear paw on it. A signet ring, I supposed, for sealing wax letters.
I was about to scoop everything into my own money pouch when I heard a throat clear behind me. Before I turned around, I subtly pulled a leather cuirass over the pile.
Olief’s mother was there, holding her hands tightly.
“Hi,” I said, not exactly sure what was about to happen, but really hoping it wasn’t going to be one of those, let-me-sex-you-up-as-a-reward type situations.
“You saved my son today,” she said.
“It’s fine—” I started, but she held up her hands.
“Please, I must give you something.”
“No offense, but it doesn’t look like you’ve got that much, and I’m doing okay, so—”
“I can still give you a reward for saving my child. It is the way things are done, and the Gods might curse me for not doing as is proper.”
So the Gods forced people to give rewards… interesting.
“Please tell no one of this,” she said, “for it could mean your end.”
I tried to interrupt to find out why, you know, her gift might kill me, but she just kept on going.
“In earlier times, I was an apprentice to a man far to the north, a user of magic. He taught me many things. Many now forbidden.” She paused, and her eyes unfocused as if she was looking at something very far away. Or very long ago.
“Okay,” I said, nodding at her to continue.
“He was killed before I was able to complete my training, but I learned two spells from him. I have used them sparingly since then, but I will give them to you as repayment. If you want.”
“You can give spells?” I asked.
“Do you know nothing of magic?”
“Not a thing.”
She looked over her shoulder at the door. “There is little time, but magic is not welcome many places in this land. It is considered evil. Awful. Those who do practice are taken before the emperor and must enter his service or die. You must not allow anyone to see you cast spells.”
“Not sure this is much of a reward.”
“I regret, I have little else to offer you—”
“It’s fine, I didn’t mean to— just teach me the spells, please.”
“I cannot teach them to you,” she said, “there is no time. I must give them to you.”
“Is there a difference?”
“When I give them to you, I will no longer know them. The knowledge is given to you.”
“Wait—”
“It is a gift for you to take them as well, Montana. You will ease the burden I carry knowing I might slip and be taken away from the life I have. Please.”
“Okay. Let’s do it,” I said.
She exhaled,
and flashed a hidden sort of smile, like we were sharing a secret. Which we were, I guess.
“This might hurt,” she said. Then, she took my hands and closed her eyes.
I did the same.
My hands started to tingle. Then they felt like they were on fire. I tried to pull back, desperate to stop the pain, but she held on tight. In a flash, it felt like some barrier broke, and the fire spread over my whole body. I took a huge breath in, feeling very alive, yet with the pain echoing out through me.
You have been GIVEN the spell HEAL OTHER (costs 100 mana). Through the use of magic you are able to heal another through touch. Heal 50 Hp.
You have been GIVEN the spell HUMUS (costs 10 mana). This spell gathers dirt, including organic materials, moisture, and bacterial ingredients within one mile/level of the caster and places the mixture anywhere the caster wishes ,within range. This is humus, the black, enriched soil excellent for growing plants in pots or gardening. Of course, the mage may use it however he wishes, but it is usually for growing things in pots and window boxes. If no such materials are within one mile/level, the spell has no effect.
She released my hands gently, and whispered a small “thank you.” Then, she staggered up, moving as if exhausted, and left the inn.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. I looked at my hands expecting to see some redness or burn mark. Normal. I felt my body. Also normal. At least as normal as anything had been in this new world of mine. I took a few breaths, did a bit of a stretch. I felt okay.
Heal Other I totally got. Humus though? That seemed, well, I won’t say completely useless, but somewhere on the level of a fart in a hurricane.
I went back to shoveling everything into my travel pack, then hoisted it on my back. It bulged at the seams. While standing in the warmth of the hall, I pictured it bursting apart while I hiked down the mountain, sending all my ill-gotten valuables tumbling away.
“Stop it,” I told myself. “Stop thinking about all the possible bad shit. How about we try being positive for once?”
“Talking to yourself,” a voice called out, “usually a sign of losing your mind, right?”
I whipped my eyes around the room, trying to get a bead on who’d snuck up on me.
A woman came out of the shadows. Young, with a wide, pleasant face. She had a number of small burns on her arms, and a wicked tan, which seemed a bit odd for this perpetually shaded mountain town.
“I was wondering if you might be willing to help us out,” she said, her blue eyes meeting mine without wavering.
“More than I already have?” I asked in answer.
“Yes.”
I sighed, feeling a quest coming on.
“What’s the ask?”
“We must leave this night, and get down to Arenberg before daybreak. You look like you can handle loading a wagon, maybe help an old woman down the mountain.”
“Funny, you don’t look that old.”
She had a half-smile on her face, “Not me, ass. My aunt.”
Dovie Keiler has offered you a QUEST!
Help the Town I
The town of Rumib Pass is being threatened, and they must run quickly or be overwhelmed by the impending invading army. Load Dovie’s wagon and ensure her aunt makes it out of village safely.
Reward: Increased standing with the town of Rumib Pass and [unknown]
Accept: Yes/No
The reward was a bit crap, considering the town was about to be abandoned. What did it matter what my standing was with a town that didn’t exist? But there was also the unknown. Maybe I’d get a boss sword. Or some awesome armor. A bunch of health potions. Or a big sack of nothingness. Maybe it’d be just a hug and a pinch on the cheek from the aunt. I guess that was the danger of the unknown reward. Still, I was planning on heading that direction anyway. What’d I have to lose?
“Sure,” I said.
Chapter 15
Despite the darkness, the night was alive. Villagers darted about — those who had wagons were loading them, and those who didn’t were bartering for space in them. The townsfolk were, for the most part, working together.
Dovie lead me around the center of town to her home and workshop.
“You’re a blacksmith?” I said, eyeing the massive anvil.
She nodded, and gave a smug little smile.
An empty wagon sat in front of the small home. The front portion of the property had a roof and a fence around a smelter, a forge, and a big ol’ anvil. The back was barely a shack. Sitting on the anvil was an older woman. She smiled at me, and I realized I’d been had. She wasn’t that old and her biceps were massive.
“This is your aunt?” I asked, not doing a damn thing to hide my incredulousness.
Dovie nodded, her smile getting bigger.
“And she needs help getting down the mountain?”
Dovie nodded again.
I shrugged. It was too late for me to do anything else. I’d already agreed to the quest, and I knew backing out would always be worse than going through with it.
“Let’s get to packing then,” I said.
Nothing they wanted my help with was light. Mainly because they went to pack up their personal belongings in the shack while I was tasked with the entirety of their shop.
They disappeared inside. I stared at the anvil. That was the heaviest item, so I figured it need to go over the front axle, something to help keep the wagon stable. I’d never loaded a wagon before, but I had loaded plenty of trucks, and the technique had to be somewhat similar.
On the plus side, this gave me the opportunity to really put my body to work, to gauge how the numerical value of my strength applied in a real world setting. I chuckled, realizing I’d just called the place the real world for the first time.
The anvil would like be the best first test of my strength. Or, you know, I’d rip something in my back, become paralyzed, and shortly be killed by the oncoming army. And then I’d have to make my way down the mountain again.
I did a bit of stretching, and squatted down for a test lift.
Wrapping my arms around the anvil, I powered it up.
It moved.
The thing felt heavy, but it wasn’t, you know impossible. I didn’t feel any pain; it just felt like a solid weight I’d lifted. I came to standing.
Then I took a step. Balancing on one leg was a bit much. It looked like I wasn’t able to handle tree pose while carrying an anvil, but, you know, I had to have something to work towards. A few more steps, and I set the block of metal in the back of the wagon.
It creaked, and swayed a bit. A lot of pushing, a little pulling, and a fair amount of swearing, and the anvil was in place and ready to go. Just like loading a truck.
I smiled, looking at what I’d accomplished.
“The metal cannot load itself,” came a grating voice from the shack.
Auntie was leaning in the window, looking out at me with a wry smile.
I resisted the urge to flip her the bird.
Instead, I started loading ingots.
Bronze, brass, iron, steel, and more than a few metals I couldn’t identify. I tried to use my spell on them, but it fizzled, and I got a little note:
Spell level not high enough to identify target object.
The mana still got taken from my bar though, so important educational opportunity.
There were ingots aplenty at the blacksmith. I needed to get busy and quit fucking around. I layered the bottom of the wagon with the metal, and then moved on to the tools. Hammers on hammers in all shapes and sizes. Mandrels and tongs and pinchers and pliers, oh my! Then on to the horseshoes. Crates and crates full of the fuckers.
The night was cold. A bitter wind swept off the peaks. Snow came down in occasional puffs, sometimes so thick I couldn’t see across the village square. Sweat poured down me as I raced to get the wagon packed. I took a moment to breathe, and looked around at the village. Given the moonlight, I didn’t even need to use my own dark vision. The village,
more or less, looked like it was all packed into wagons, and people were starting to get into a line of sorts. It appeared no one wanted to go alone, so they were going to go as a big group.
Dovie and her aunt passed me, putting two large bundles into the wagon. Then they walked over to Hroar in the center of town. There was a quiet discussion, and some pointing in my direction.
I still needed to get the lightest stuff into the wagon, the large bags of coke and coal. Big burlap sacks of the stuff. I piled them high, and then started lashing everything down with whatever cordage I could find.
“We must make it to Arenberg,” the aunt said. “Now.”
“We’re leaving now?” I asked.
“Now.”
I ran a hand through my long hair, and shrugged, watching people bringing animals out of what seemed to be shared stables.
Chapter 16
Villagers hitched the draft animals to wagons, put blankets over most of them, and then we were off. Since I’d agreed to see Auntie down the mountain safely, I hoisted myself onto the back of the wagon. Immediately Auntie shot me a very dark look.
“Heavy wagon,” she said from her perch next to Dovie, who was driving. “You walk.”
I smiled, gave a sharp little salute, and then hopped off. Time to walk.
The path from Rumib Pass to Arenberg was a series of switchbacks that seemed to go on forever. One side of the road was always a bit of a cliff, making each turn feel like a death trap. But other than that, you know, totally nice. The wind whipped around everyone, howling and freezing anything it touched. After about an hour the snow started up in earnest, not quite whiteout conditions, but not significantly better. At each turn, though, someone would stand at the edge with a torch, just to make sure no wagons slid off the edge.
