Chains of the Forest (Chronicles of Ruvaen Book 1)

by Darin Niemann

  One of the guards called the captain over and he nodded a farewell at me as he moved off. The discussion of the Keepers was interesting. If I couldn’t find Amara in Greypoint, it might be my only option for earning some coin. As I currently looked, nobody would hire me, and I certainly didn’t have the money to get some decent clothing. I could sell my cloak but I wanted to save that for a last resort. It was a rather nice cloak to have after all; I thought to myself as I gathered it around myself and settled in for the night. It had been nice to finally have company after being alone in the forest for so long.

  The dawning sun greeted us the next morning and, after a short meal, we set out in the hopes of reaching Greypoint by nightfall. Luckily, we didn’t see any orcs and soon enough we came upon the gates. It appeared to be a heavily fortified town, no doubt due to the nearness of orcs. Perhaps there were other dangers in the mountains as well. When we reached the gates that allowed passage through the thick stone wall, I drew the captain's attention.

  I offered my hand, “Thanks for the meal and company.”

  The captain nodded, shaking my hand. Then he looked at my clothes once again, a worried look covering his face. “You going to be all right?”

  I smiled so as to relieve some of his worry, “I’ll be fine. Though if you could point me in the direction of the Keepers I would be grateful.”

  After giving me directions, he wished me luck and left with the merchant caravan headed deeper into the sprawling town. I looked around the town, noting that the people here seemed to be generally tougher looking than those within the capital. Most everyone had a visible weapon on them of some sort, even the women hanging clothes to dry having daggers at their waist. I was getting some strange looks from the gate guards so I decided to be on my way to the Keepers.

  Going straight to the mage school seemed out of the question, as from what I had heard they disliked wilders. I wanted to see what Amara or someone trustworthy thought of the taint on my magic as it could mean yet another cage. At the Keepers, I could ask for information about the mages and hopefully be able to find Amara. If not, there was always registering with them to earn some coin.

  I kept to myself as I maneuvered through the town. Greypoint wasn’t nearly as large as Osdriff but it was a decent sized place in its own right. Even with my fine, intact cloak people gave me a wide berth due to my mostly ragged appearance. On the other hand, not many saw my appearance as out of the ordinary. I noticed a few other beggars on the streetside. When I reached the building housing the Keepers, a large man easily twice my size nearly denied my entry, but I merely waved my fine cloak at him and told him I was here for information and work. Debating silently, he finally grunted and let me pass. I was glad I had the foresight to remove my hood before I had attempted to speak with the man. Undoubtedly that would have caused a commotion.

  Inside I found it much the same as any tavern. Admittedly, I had only been in one or two in my time but it still held true. It was still quite early for drinking, though a few still sat amongst the spread out tables sipping at drinks or eating meals. I received a few curious looks but after a second of perusal I was dismissed. I thought that such a ragged look could be a wonderful disguise if used correctly. The counter was being wiped down by an old dwarf as I began to approach.

  A few steps in, I noticed that a rather enormous hound that rested on the floor near the corner of the bar. The hound looked more wolf than dog with its gray hair and pointed ears, though taking a closer look showed it to be getting on in years. It also had a few visible scars on it, showing white against its darker color fur. As I came up to the bar, the hound started to whine softly, whimpering in my direction. It slinked behind the bar and into the back room as if trying to get away from me. The dog’s actions confused me as I hadn’t made any threatening moves. The only thing I could think that would cause such a thing was my tainted magic. It was quite lucky that I hadn’t been near the caravan’s horses on my way into town.

  I glanced around to find that, at the sound of the dog’s whine, many of the patrons had suddenly focused their attention on me. Some had surprise on their faces, some fear. Others were simply curious. One of the men near the door hastily dropped a few coins onto the table and left in a hurry, stumbling as he went. I raised an eyebrow as I turned to the dwarf behind the bar.

  “What’s that about?” I asked the old dwarf. He was bald aside from a single topknot that draped down the back of his head, though a thick beard adorned his chin.

  The dwarven proprietor narrowed his eyes at me, the dirty rag forgotten on the counter as he stroked his beard. “I’d ask ye the same. Not ev’ry day ol’ Wolf gets frightened. Truth be that he usually be the one doin’ the frightenin’.”

  Ah, I understood the patrons’ reactions now. Everyone had expected old Wolf to growl at me but instead he had done the opposite. I had little doubt now that the taint was the cause.

  I tried to change the course of the conversation and offered my hand. “My name is Ruvaen. I’m here for information and work.”

  At my words the grizzled dwarf seemed to relax a bit, shaking my hand in a firm grip.

  “Name’s Braddick an’ I run this ‘ere place.” He gestured at a barstool in front of him.

  Chapter 9

  I could tell the old dwarf was still curious at what exactly had spooked the hound by his glances into the back room, but thankfully, he let it lie for now. He returned to once again wiping the countertop with the rag that had seen much better days. It wasn’t too at odds with the clothing I wore if I was completely honest. Sitting down, I noticed that the rest of the room had calmed as well, no longer quite as tense as before.

  I returned my gaze to Braddick, “Do you know of a means to contact a mage student?”

  Braddick raised an eyebrow at my question. “A student?” He asked me.

  I nodded my reply and he shook his head saying, “Nay, I know of no way aside from walkin’ up to them gates and knockin’. Though the students sometimes come down to the town during their break. Won’t happen for a few more months at least.”

  I sighed, “And what of work?”

  “Keepers’ work? Ta do that ye have to register.”

  “And how might I do that?” I asked the dwarf.

  Braddick mumbled beneath his beard as he reached under the counter to bring up a square, flat metal plate that just fit into the palm of my hand. It was attached to a chain clearly used to hang about the neck. The dwarf himself had one on him, although his beard did a good job of hiding it.

  “Well, lad, you need to buy this ‘ere medallion.” He set the blank medallion on the counter but pulled it back when I reached for it. “It costs five silver for the medallion.”

  Five silver? I had no money on me and wondered what I could do to earn it. Would I have to beg? Seeing my crestfallen look, Braddick chuckled as he tossed me the medallion. “I’ll take it from yer Keeper’s earnings until yer debts paid off.”

  I wondered if Braddick was letting me off easy though perhaps it was a rule of the Keepers. Either way, I didn’t question it as I looked at the medallion. Close up, it appeared to be made of simple iron with only a single line engraved on it. Keepers of Turinval. Deerstalker. Curious as to the last word, I looked back to Braddick.

  “What is a Deerstalker?”

  My confusion must have shown on my face as the dwarf began to chuckle. “There be six ranks.The lowest rank be Deerstalker. Then Hawksinger, Wolfbreaker, Bearcrusher, Lionslayer, an’ finally Dragonspeaker.”

  “What sort of work can…” I trailed off as Braddick pulled a decent sized tome from underneath the counter. The dwarf looked through the pages until he found the one he wanted, laying the book in front of me. The current page seemed to represent the Deerstalker rank. At the top, the date read Year 32 King Vehko’s Reign. The year had been 31 of King Vehko’s Reign before I had entered the forest. It truly had been over a year, as I had first arrived in Foxthorn Forest in the fall and it was still fall, only a year la
ter. Shaking off the surprise, I continued to glance over the page. There weren’t many request’s in this lower section other than hunting wild beasts. I also noted that some of the entries had a number four with a circle around it. In particular, there was a goblin camp mark with the encircled four. I asked Braddick what it meant.

  “Ah, that be the mark showing group requests. If you take a group of four or more then the guild will pay the reward upon completion. Normally, if you finish a request ranked above your personal rank, the guild will refuse to pay. Ye have to be at or of higher rank than the posting in order to receive rewards. Guild policy.”

  I frowned, thinking to myself about how Deerstalker was the lowest of the list. What did it take to reach the higher ranks? Not realizing I had spoken aloud, I heard Braddick chuckle.

  “Well, lad, it mostly takes time. Time an’ experience. Though there also be another way...”

  A commotion in one corner of the tavern interrupted our conversation. A couple of fellows were standing up and shouting at each other, which looked to be about to come to blows. Braddick glared in their direction, standing as tall as he could on his platform behind the bar. When he shouted, it rang loudly across across the entire tavern. “There’ll be no fighting in me bar!” The dwarf commanded. Silence reigned as everyone, including the two who had been at odds, stopped and looked at the grizzled dwarf. Suddenly Braddick seemed more than an old dwarf playing tavernkeep. He appeared a warrior and none wanted anything to do with his wrath. The two fellows nodded quickly, shaking hands before reseating themselves.

  Braddick’s gaze returned to normal as he looked back towards me. He spoke as if nothing had happened.

  “Now where was I? Ah, climbing the ranks.” He mused aloud. “There is one other way…”

  I leaned in, showing my interest. Braddick rolled his eyes. “It ain’t anything that special. Just need to challenge a higher ranked Keeper than yerself to a duel. The Keeper of the House has to oversee the duel for fairness.”

  “And if I lose?” I asked, though I wasn’t too worried about it. Still, it was information I didn’t have and I wanted to fully understand the rules before attempting anything.

  A wicked smirk appeared on the dwarf’s face. “Ye just have to pay the challenged a third of yer Keeper’s earnings until ye hit the rank ye attempted to gain.”

  My eyes widened, “A third?”

  He nodded, “There has ta be some reason for the higher ranked to accept a challenge from a lower ranked one. This way both sides have reasons for the duel. Been this way for ages, even before I joined the Keepers.”

  I thought over what I had learned for a moment before deciding. “And who is the highest ranked person in here?”

  Braddick coughed in surprise before he chuckled, “Side from me? That fellow over there, with the dark red cape. Name’s Destan.” The old keeper pointed the man out across the room. “He be tougher than he looks. Didn’t get the rank of Wolfbreaker by chasing chickens all day.”

  The man in question was sitting around a table drinking with a couple of companions seemingly all having a good time. He certainly looked to be a tough fellow, with a mixture of leather and metal armor. The combination allowed him ease of movement but with a bit of added protection in some areas. He had shoulder length brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

  I glanced back at Braddick in question, “And I simply have to walk over and challenge him?”

  The dwarf nodded, “Aye, that be the easy part. Besting him… now that be a bit tougher.”

  I hesitated only a moment longer before I rose from my seat. A few seconds later I stood before the table that Destan sat at. He looked up at me and scowled, waving his hand as if to shoo me away. “I don’t have change for beggars, bugger off.”

  His companions chuckled at the insult but I ignored it. I showed him my Keeper’s medallion. “I challenge you for your rank.”

  Destan choked on his drink, having to wipe his face with his arm. He gestured at me, as if presenting me to his companions. “Fellas seeing this? This beggar wants to challenge me! A beggar!”

  His companions roared with laughter as he smirked at me. I suppose I did look somewhat like a beggar, but he was severely underestimating me, and I was getting irritated by their behavior. I smiled myself as I spoke. “Too afraid to fight a beggar? How many rats did you catch to get your rank?”

  The laughter finally died and Destan was no longer smiling. He glared at me. Finally he finished his drink and slammed the empty mug on the table. Without looking away from me, Destan called over his shoulder. “Braddick! This fool challenged me and I will take it upon myself to teach him a lesson. Come!”

  The old dwarf merely shook his head and made his way outside to the ring behind the tavern. I followed Destan and his pals who were making bets about how long I would last but one of the men in the group whispered about how Ol’ Wolf had reacted to me when I first arrived. This caused another round of murmuring before Destan silenced them all with a glare as we arrived at the ring outside.

  The ring was simple enough. A circle was marked in the dirt and the innkeeper lead us to some nearby barrels. Braddick wordlessly handed Destan and I wooden practice swords. Destan reluctantly handed his steel sword and scabbard over to a fellow while I was surprised that I was given a weapon. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had been forced to fight unarmed against an opponent. Either way, having something to strike with was better than using bare fists.

  I gave the practice sword in my hands a few twirls and swings to test out its weight and balance. Destan looked on impatiently all the while, but I merely smiled and made no move to hurry. Once I felt accustomed enough to my newly acquired weapon, I gave Braddick a nod. The dwarf then cleared his throat before counting down from three. As soon as the count hit zero Destan rushed at me with an overhead chop. I easily parried the blow with my own sword and shoved it back over his head before quickly following through with a kick at his midsection. Surprisingly, the Wolfbreaker was quick enough to jump backwards and avoid the blow. As we regained our stances, he seemed to have realized that I wasn’t a simple beggar from our first minor clash. His eyes narrowed but his anger and annoyance were fading. It was clear he was treating me as an opponent now.

  On one hand, I was glad that he was paying me some respect now but on the other side of things, the fight would have been much easier had he continued to underestimate me. We circled each other more cautiously now and tension filled the air. Suddenly, Destan darted in for another blow, this time with a thrust aimed at my stomach. I danced to the side, barely dodging the blow. My tattered shirt tore even further as it caught the edge of his practice sword. He continued his attack, flicking his sword at my now open side. Only barely getting my own weapon up in time to block the blow, Destan continued to aggressively attack me. Blow followed by blow rained upon me as I dodged or parried them.

  Truth be told, Destan was a great swordsman. His blows were fast and precise and any one of them would have done a good amount of harm, even with wooden blades. I thought of using magic but I wasn’t sure if that was allowed in Keeper’s duels. And then there was the fact that I would be known as a wilder with tainted magic. I doubted the mage schools would simply ignore such a being near their doorstep. And so I continued to block, parry and dodge my opponent's blows, getting a feel for his swordsmanship and looking for openings.

  It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. I had fought trained swordsmen before and the one thing they all had in common was that they always had some sort of routine. Even I, as wild and natural as my learning experience had been while fighting in the arena, had certain strikes that I favored over others. I noted that Destan always left himself open after he thrust forward, though I was too busy dodging the quick attack to take advantage of it. I knew that would be my opening, even if it was a bit risky.

  Sure enough, after a horizontal slash Destan began his movement forward. As soon as I saw his body take the stance for the thrust, I
moved. And I moved fast. I didn’t hesitate in the slightest, but darted forward at the same time his blade came for my midriff. Surprise shone on Destan’s face along with a brief moment of what he assumed to be victory before I turned my body ever so slightly enough to pass by his blade unharmed. His eyes widened as my blade pommel slammed into his forehead. Destan dropped to the ground, knocked out cold from the hard blow. His companions stared in awe, speechless at the sudden loss. One moment Destan had been attacking aggressively and the next he was on the ground, unconscious. Swordfights were curious things. They could go on for a time, but they also could end within a single moment. This was more true for real fights, as it didn’t take a full decapitation in order to win. A simple cut in a vital area could spell victory.

  I stepped back, breathing heavily. It had been a drawn out fight as I had been on the defensive most of the time while looking for an opening. Truly the man hadn’t earned his title by being lazy. Braddick had to clap his hands once to get the attention of the other fellows as they were still staring in disbelief.

  “All right, all right, enough gawkin’. Take Destan there inside. Fights over. Make sure he knows he lost when he comes to.” The others nodded while they helped haul their friend inside, but not before darting a few glances back towards the beggar-like man who had bested their companion.

  Braddick finally turned to me with a snort. “Ye may look like a beggar but ye sure as hells don’t fight like one.” He gestured for me to hand him the sword and I obliged. He replaced the two swords in a barrel before we made our way back inside to the bar.

  “Give me that medallion back.” Braddick told me and I handed it over. He returned it beneath the counter before tossing me a similar medallion, though it was different.

  Keepers of Turinval. Wolfbreaker.

  I thanked him but he merely grunted as he returned to wiping the counter with his rag. Turning the page of the postings book before me, I moved on to the Wolfbreaker page. After glancing at the postings for only a few more seconds, I decided on the orc bounties. At a silver coin per orc, it was by far the richest endeavor. Assuming I survived that is. “Looks like I’ll be hunting orcs.” I told Braddick.