The Legacy Builder- the Chronicles of Lincoln Hart

by Ember Lane

  “And that?” Lincoln asked, pointing at the mountain.

  “You are favored with near limitless stone and iron. Should you be able to divine mineral seams, you may also build specialized mines.”

  “But lumber will be an issue?”

  “Yes, for higher-level buildings.”

  “The workers. Tell me; they can do near enough anything, is that correct?”

  “If you can imagine it, they can build it. What are you thinking?”

  Lincoln imagined the fissure, and then widened it slightly and formed even, but still testing steps. Then he imagined all the chiseled stone laid out in pathways between the cottages and leading toward the bridge. After, he imagined the surplus piled up to one side of the bridge.

  “That is some task,” Bethe said.

  “But can it be done?”

  “Not at present. You would need fifty workers for ten days. That would cost ten thousand food. You would also need four hundred lumber and fifty iron to make the carts, barrows and chutes needed for such a task.”

  Lincoln whistled, but did the math. Each worker munched through about twenty food a day while laboring. “How much food does a level 1 farm produce?”

  “One hundred per hour. What are you thinking?”

  Lincoln sat next to Aezal, who passed him a bowl of broth. “I’m thinking, I need some more front doors built and a few farms. That’s what I’m thinking.”

  He took a spoonful of broth and slurped it down.

  “And the warehouse?” he asked Bethe.

  “One hundred food, 1500 lumber, 1000 stone and 300 iron.”

  “Fine,” said Lincoln.

  “We getting us a warehouse?” Aezal asked.

  Lincoln nodded. “The ability to conjure workers nearly at will is a fault in the ga…in the land’s set up, but, it’s not that critical. Normally you wouldn’t need loads of workers, so I doubt many if any would exploit it. For us, its crucial. We need ways in and out of this place, and apart from food, with spare workers we can get it done a whole lot quicker. In short, Aezal, we need food. Plus, winter’s coming, and we five will starve without storage. Somehow, I think this little slither of luck we had manipulating the cottage build might just save our lives if winter is harsh.”

  Aezal grunted. “Are you normally lucky? Because I can’t see that attribute bump you seem to keep getting giving you as much good fortune as you seem to attract. Winters here will be dreary, but not harsh. South, you get it worse. Here, just more rain, a bit of sleet, and a touch of snow.”

  “So nothing that would stop us?”

  “Not for more than a few days.” Aezal took Lincoln’s bowl, and so Lincoln took out his pipe. He was running low on the smoking leaf that Aezal had given him, so he just partly filled his pot. Lighting it, he mulled over his progress. In a day, it was beyond his dreams. Lumber, though, he couldn’t afford lumber to be an issue. Building low-level buildings was usually relatively painless, but once you got higher…

  “Bethe,” he muttered.

  “Yes, Lincoln.”

  “Can I have more than one city?”

  “Of course. You can build an army and take as many cities, villages, and hamlets as you wish. However, once you take ownership of a settlement, you are responsible for its morale, defense, and maintenance.”

  “No,” Lincoln said. “You’re missing the point. Can I found another city?”

  “You are only allotted one city token. You can only found a city with a token,” Bethe told him.

  Aezal looked confused. His forehead furrowed in confusion. “Where are you going with this?”

  Lincoln hovered his hand over his sack and snatched Alexa Drey’s token out. He turned his fist over and opened his fingers. “What if I’ve got two?” he said.

  He knew he was overstepping his silent promise to Alexa to keep her beginner’s pack safe, but now he reasoned that the greater good might come in to play. Plus, the token was fading in value the longer it remained dormant. With everyone growing in the game, if Alexa were to use the token in, say, a year’s time, then she’d be so far behind everyone else that the token would be near enough worthless. At least this way, he could build her something of worth. He could build her a city, while she struggled to recover from what would almost certainly be a desperate start. With a thriving pair of cities, he could send out scouts to find her, to find Pog, possibly even the others.

  Bethe was clearly mulling Lincoln’s revelation over. “With two, you’d have two guides, two cities that your attribute points would affect. You’d have to be in the city to instruct the build to take advantage of your politic attribute points—which you haven’t allotted yet, by the way.” Bethe was rambling now, as though she was actually quite excited by the possibilities, but Lincoln held his hand up to stop her.

  “But is it possible?” he asked.

  “I have searched all the rules and guidelines, and I can’t see why not. We will only know when you try and use it.”

  Lincoln nodded. “Good enough.”

  “So,” said Crags, all of a sudden. “What are we up to today?”

  “Mischief,” Lincoln said. “First, we’re all going to get wet.”

  “I’m still wet from the night,” Ozmic moaned.

  “Then you won’t feel it. We’re crossing the river using their rope.” Lincoln tapped out his pot and jumped up. “Are we all ready?” he asked. Now his optimism was in overdrive. Now his way was certain.

  The workers had already fashioned a rope bridge across the river, so they didn’t need to wade through the river, much to everyone’s relief, and once they’d all crossed, Lincoln told Bethe he wanted to build six cottages. Ozmic and Grimble got straight on with the job of building the doors. Lincoln then instructed her to build five level 1 farms on that side of the river, and divert any spare workers to upgrade the existing sawmills to level 2. He worked out that he was okay for all resources apart from food in the short term. Once that was all done, he asked Bethe to show him the other way into the vale, and asked Ozmic and Grimble to keep an eye on the place.

  Initially, the dwarves weren’t too happy about being left behind, but once Lincoln told them that the three of them would explore the mountain the day after, they soon puffed out their chests and got on with the job of hanging a door on a partly built wall.

  Bethe said she’d escort Lincoln, Aezal, and Crags to the cave that led through the western ridge. The lay of the land on the other side of the river was a near mirror image of the eastern side of the vale; intermixed patches of grassland, forests, bushy thickets, hillocks, hollows, and streams. Lincoln couldn’t shake the damp from his clothes as he hiked toward the red ridge, nor could he shake the feeling that he was being watched. They didn’t stop until midday though, and by that time, Lincoln was near certain they were being followed.

  “You feel it?” Aezal asked.

  “Sure do,” Lincoln replied. “Bethe, who’s likely to already live here?”

  “I can only tell you of the indigenous races of the region. I have no specifics for this area.”

  “It’s tree elves,” Crags said, sitting back against a rocky outcrop. “They’ve been watching us ever since we came into the vale. They seemed quite disinterested until the sawmills started going up, then they got a bit angry.”

  “But they won’t attack us?”

  “Wood elves?” Crags belched a laugh. “No spine!” he shouted. “Not like gnomes.”

  Lincoln heard a rustling in the trees not ten yards away, but it soon settled and died down.

  “Told you,” Crags said. “They’re a timid bunch, but then, they might just be waiting until there are enough of them.”

  “The gnome makes sense,” Aezal muttered. “If I was them and saw all the copper-colored folks roaming around, I’d be a bit hesitant. It’s a meet you shouldn’t put off.”

  “Tomorrow,” Lincoln muttered, adding it to his list.

  After chewing on some salted hare and drinking a good gulp of water, they carried
on toward the ridge. Soon, they were staring up at its sheer sides, wondering how they’d ever clambered down the fissure opposite in the middle of the night.

  As promised, Bethe had led them straight toward a cave. She told them that she could go no farther as she’d reached the ends of her influence and was tied to a certain radius around the settlement’s center. Aezal lit a torch, as did Crags, and they ventured toward it.

  The cave’s mouth was no bigger than a set of double gates. They all slipped on loose scree as they scrambled down a small slope that led to it. Once inside, it became clear that it was no natural cave. Chiseled, regular walls and an arched ceiling welcomed them. The stone underfoot was smooth, as though it was used to constant traffic. Yet it was no mine, there were no side tunnels, no exploited seams.

  “This is definitely an access to our vale,” Aezal muttered, treading forward, carefully. “You can even see where they once bolted torches to the wall.” He pointed to a pair of holes, rust stains streaking down from them like fallen tears.

  “They?” Lincoln asked, but Aezal merely shrugged.

  “Like I say, this land has many secrets. Just keep it at they, else your mind will turn over and over with questions.”

  Lincoln accepted Aezal’s words. He had enough on his mind anyway. Any peace had gone since he’d activated the city token, and worse, he didn’t know whether it’d get easier once he’d allotted his spare attribute points. He assumed so, but that was what it was, just a guess. The only reason he’d left them unallocated was because he was unsure. Build speed, at the minute, wasn’t an issue, and he guessed the politics attribute affected that. Research speed, well, he wouldn’t need that until he had students, an academy or whatnot, so he didn’t have to pump points into that attribute yet. Defense, well, he had little to defend. Starting out was the worst, he thought.

  “Nice cottage,” Crags suddenly said. “We get a nice cozy cottage and what do we do after a week on the road? I’ll tell you what we do. We walk away from it, that’s what we do.”

  Aezal grunted. “You’re not wrong. It would have been nice to rest up for a day.”

  “Why did I need to come anyway?” Crags asked.

  “I’ll tell you, Crags,” Lincoln replied. “It is because you are essential to this mission.”

  Crags stopped in Lincoln’s path. The gnome looked up at him. “Essential?”

  “Essential. If this is to work, it’ll be because of your efforts as much as anyone’s. You’ve got a big role to play.”

  “Big role,” Crags repeated.

  “Of course, if you’d rather go back…”

  “Nope, no, I wasn’t saying that. I was saying… I was about to say how those creature comforts others seek are just not for the likes of me, no, not I.” Crags spun on his feet and marched after Aezal. “Digberts used to say that about me. He used to say he’d never met a gnome as useful as me when I wasn’t around. Liked me to be off and doing things, did Digberts. That’s why he trusted me with this mission.”

  Aezal stopped in his tracks.

  “What mission?” his voice boomed around.

  “Mission? Did I say mission?”

  Aezal hadn’t turned. He was just standing, torch in hand, his back to both Crags and Lincoln.

  “What mission? The one where you spy on us? The one where Digberts inquires where you are and what we’re up to? The one where you blab like a caught-out child? That mission?”

  “That sounds about right,” Crags said.

  Aezal started to turn.

  “Except,” said Crags, backing up. “Except we’re guild members now—not hostile—nothing like that. My first allegiance is to Lincoln now—Lincoln, so it is, it is.”

  Aezal’s white eyes narrowed. “Better be your only allegiance,” he growled.

  Crags looked around at Lincoln, his expression pleading, but Lincoln planted his feet wide apart, and crossed his arms, inclining his head, his stare stern. “We could make sure of that now Aezal. There’s only me and you, no one need know.”

  Crags fell to his knees, his hands clasped over his heart, his eyebrows lofted. “Harm little Crags? Now, yer wouldn’t want to do that. We’re nearly family.” He grinned a wide smile.

  “Might be messy,” Aezal said.

  “Be a shame to break up the gang,” Lincoln pointed out.

  “The gang, yes, the gang,” Crags cried, springing to his feet. “You’re right, why split up the gang, especially when I’ve got important tasks to perform—especially then.” He stamped his little feet. “Stupid Digberts and his meddling.”

  Aezal turned and walked on. Lincoln shooed the gnome forward. “Just what did Digberts want you to do?”

  “Ah, well there’s a thing, you see. Digberts, he thinks he can see into the future—thinks he knows yer fortune.” Crags laughed. “Reckons he can read the foam on your ale or the trail of yer smoke, but we all know that farseeing is just lies ‘n muddles ‘n nothin’ else, eh?”

  “Lies ‘n muddles ‘n nothin’ else,” Aezal repeated.

  Lincoln could now see the end of the cave, or rather tunnel end as it clearly was. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t see the entrance way, so concluded there was a slight curve to the passageway. If the land on the other side was a swathe of woodland, like Bethe had hinted it would be, he would somehow need to transport lumber through it. He began to wonder about the feasibility of rails and trucks and decided that a smithy was top of his list of required buildings, assuming the settlement workers couldn’t just make rails. He’d need to make sure his new city, if indeed he could form one, could spread its influence into this tunnel, if at all possible.

  Aezal’s cry threw his train of thought off its own tracks. The warrior was now standing in the tunnel’s entrance, Crags by his side. Lincoln picked up his step and soon drew aside them. As he saw the land beyond the ridge, he started laughing. “It’s like an ocean of green,” he said.

  They were standing on a red rock ledge around six feet deep. Behind them, the sheer face of the ridge reached up another thirty or forty feet. Before them was a rolling ocean of green treetops. It spread both to the north and south, and westward until it butted against a green cliff face some half a mile away.

  “That is one weird cliff,” Aezal muttered and pointed across, and Lincoln followed his gaze.

  The rocky formation was too angular to be natural, and looked like a mass of carved stone that had been clad by generations of ivy, creepers, and moss. Lincoln guessed it must be part of the great mountain from which their vale spawned, though he couldn’t quite see the mountain from where he stood.

  “What we seem to have here,” said Lincoln, “is a gorge filled with trees instead of water.”

  “And our vale is higher than this land. Will that cause a problem?” Aezal asked, but Lincoln was just staring at the block of stone over the treetops, consumed by its unnatural presence.

  “What the hell is that?” he asked. “One of those things… Hang on.” He fiddled in his tunic, pulling his sack out and retrieved the map he’d brought from Spillwhistle. “It’s marked, a big square of black—but no name.”

  “Then I wouldn’t worry about it now. If there’s something to be revealed, it’ll show itself in time,” Aezal said, and he began walking along the ridge and southward.

  The ledge carried on and on, the sea of green below appearing endless. Lincoln knew he had found his source of lumber, but wondered if he hadn’t found much more. A plan was forming in his mind, one to make this second settlement as important as the first. The ledge carried on and on, and eventually, the arc of the ridge had bent around enough for them to be able to see over Southern Irydia. The great forest beyond was like a thick green belt, and in the distance, they could just about see the rolling dales that surrounded Brokenford.

  “Sawmills, Aezal, Crags. We can site sawmills all around, then start the settlement back there, where the tunnel spills out.”

  “And span a wall, from the ridge to the,” he pointed at the
strange buttress, “to that, and have our village behind,” Aezal said.

  “And use the stone from the mountain to build the wall,” Crags added.

  “Exactly,” Lincoln declared. “Let’s track back and see if there’s a way down.”

  “Don’t doubt it,” Aezal said. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out our little sanctuary and that block of mystery over there aren’t linked in some way.”

  “Humph,” Lincoln grunted, but it was much the same as he was thinking too.

  They walked back along the ledge. This time the curve of the ridge revealed a little more of what was upstream of this river of green. The flat mass of green was constant like a ruled edge, and so as the ridge arced, the valley trapped between them grew, until Lincoln finally saw where the mountain rose up, the block of stone joined it, and a waterfall fell to the ground between.

  “Well, I’ll be…” Aezal muttered.

  “Now that is something worth telling Digberts,” Crags said.

  Aezal swiped him with the back of his hand, but there was no force in it.

  “I think we’ve just found the site of our second settlement.” Lincoln started marching forward.

  He saw the ledge soon ended, and he slowed until a set of downward steps came into view. They were quickly swallowed up by the forest below, skipping down the steps two at a time, eager to reach the forest’s floor. But when they were back in its true clutches, the dank, dark of the thick woods haunted them again, and their enthusiasm waned as their view polarized to a few tree trunks. Gritting his teeth, Lincoln pressed on into the center of the green, determined to find the river.

  An hour of grumbling, swiping trailing vines, and brushing sticky webs from their faces, they eventually stumbled across an enchanting river. Lincoln knelt by its bank and took a great gulp of its glinting water. The river itself looked like a moonlight trail wandering through the deep green of night with just the occasional flicker of sunlight piercing the heavy, emerald canopy.