Chronicles of a Royal Pet- Heroes Collide

by Ian Rodgers

  “Hmm, odd,” I mumbled, while Gaelin just chuckled at the thanks Jor was giving us.

  “No problem! Just be sure to drop us off at Grandor’s for repayment!”

  “Aye, no problem indeed! I’ll be sure to do that!” Jor declared with a firm nod of his head. “What kind of dwarf would I be if I broke a promise?”

  “… An anti-dwarf?” Dora said, her tone’s inflection joking. It was a terrible joke and not at all funny, but after the sudden appearance of monsters and due to the adrenaline of battle, it was the most hilarious joke we’d ever heard, and all of us began to laugh madly.

  As the Glittering Mossflies danced, the peals of laughter echoed wildly through the tunnels of Gaeum, scaring off a number of monsters that would have otherwise impeded such tasty treats.

  Chapter 10: Forge of Heroes

  “Here it is, the entrance to Lord Grandor’s forge,” Jor said as his wagon came to a stop in front of a large, wide-mouthed tunnel. A massive sign, made from brass, was attached to the top of the entrance, loudly proclaiming in bold letters, ‘HOLLOW STONE SMITHY – TRESPASSERS AND SALESMEN WILL BE PUNISHED.’

  I hopped out of the wagon, followed by Dora and Gaelin. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, waving a tendril at him. Jor nodded his head, and Jewel snuffled loudly as Dora pet her furry head.

  “Stay safe, you three. And if you need any help, Chasm Hall is just half a day’s walk that-a-way,” the bald dwarf stated, gesturing down the path he was still heading down. In the dark, I could see the glint of far off lamps and lit windows. Despite the distance between us and the vast city, we could still catch glimpses of it, proving its size was beyond massive.

  “We will,” Dora promised him. “And if we get into trouble, these two can take care of it,” she chuckled, patting the Mega Mole one last time before stepping back.

  Jor nodded one last time, before looking away and prodding his wagon-pulling mole, urging her onwards. He soon disappeared into a hazy orange glow that continued to fade into the darkness of Gaeum’s realm.

  “Foreboding,” I mused, looking away from Jor’s receding figure and staring deep into the tunnel. A hellish red glow oozed out from the shadowy depth.

  “Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Gaelin said with a shake of his head.

  “Isn’t that the motto of the Adventurer’s Guild?” I asked, and he nodded.

  “Yeah, I might not be an official adventurer anymore, but I still consider myself one. And their ideals drive me. A creepy tunnel won’t cause me to retreat!” His declaration given, he strode confidently into the entrance of the path towards Grandor’s famous forge.

  I shared a look with Dora, who nodded, and together we entered with Gaelin. As we traveled, I decided to increase my size slightly to make it easier to keep up. That act earned me some odd looks from the other two.

  “How big can you get? Or how small?” Gaelin asked, intrigued by the possibilities this could provide. I wobbled, mimicking a shrug. I was currently three feet all around, a full foot bigger than I’d been for the past while now. I’d been bigger in Luminoth, but that was because shapeshifting into a vaguely equine shape required a lot of mass.

  “I’m not sure how large I can actually become,” I said, thinking it over. “Most of my excess mass is stored inside my Dimensional Pocket, and to be honest, there’s a lot in there I’m not using. One time, I managed to grow to be about twenty or so feet. But that was when I was only a year old and hadn’t generated all that much mass. As for shrinking, I reduce myself to about twice the size of my core. Can’t get any smaller than that.”

  “Hmm, something to look into later. From my experience, larger foes, while making excellent targets, can turn the tide in a battle against smaller beings. Part of what makes a dragon so fierce is their massive size. Sure, they’d still be a threat if they were only human sized with their fiery breath and resistance to magic, but they can’t crush an entire battalion just by landing on it,” Gaelin mused aloud. I bobbed up and down at his assessment.

  ‘Something to think about the next time we face overwhelming numbers,’ I thought to myself. I also couldn’t help but be impressed by Gaelin’s tactical mind. Out of all of us, he’d clearly been in more battles, and knew what to do in them. I had a feeling he’d be the one to come up with the combat-oriented plans.

  ‘We seem to be finding our niches,’ I thought happily. Dora was our Healer, obviously, but she knew a lot about more Divine entities and magic than I did. Gaelin was our fighter and our tactician. His knowledge of battle would no doubt come in handy when we had to confront the Void itself.

  And then there was me. A magical, talking Ooze who could grow to the size of a building, generate dozens of multi-purpose tendrils, and throw spells around like there was a special sale on magic! ‘Buy one Fireball, get another one to the face for free!’ I chuckled to myself.

  A deafening “CLANG!” suddenly shattered the silence, and we all flinched in surprise.

  “Ow! My ears!” Gaelin complained. “Argh! My helmet! It’s echoing inside of it!” He quickly tore off his helmet, shaking his head to clear his eardrums.

  “Well, we’re definitely near the forge,” Dora said with a weak smile. We ventured towards the end of the tunnel, which had been glowing orangish-red for a while now.

  Upon exiting the tunnel, we found ourselves in a cylindrical cavern, a huge platform of granite sitting at the edge of a massive lava flow that drained down into a distant pit. Enormous obsidian water wheels had been set up at the drop-off point, and transformed the free-falling torrent of lava into a mill of sorts, which turned several massive gears and counterweights that raised up huge, piston powered hammers that smashed onto smoking anvils with the force of a god.

  Beside this mill of raw, fiery power, was a stone cottage that had several chimneys attached to it, as well as a number of smaller blacksmithing forges. What was most interesting was the sheer number of weapons that littered the ground. Hundreds of swords, spears, axes and more were imbedded upright in the pebble covered front lawn of the forge like signposts, each artifact of exceptional quality.

  And there, rushing through the smoke and steam, was a shirtless dwarf with a great, black beard, his fire tanned skin oozing sweat. He worked the massive hammering forge with incredible speed and dexterity, checking the heated metals and making adjustments to them before the giant mechanized hammers fell once more, pounding out impurities from the material on the anvils.

  As we approached, the dwarf let out a loud, bellowing laugh that reverberated through the cavern. He spun around to face us, a wide, almost manic, grin spreading across his face.

  “At last! You’re finally here!” he cried out gleefully.

  “Err, yes, we are,” I said, surprised by his exuberance. He rushed out to greet us, stepping between the scattered weapons with practiced ease.

  “Come in, come in! We have much to discuss,” he claimed, urging the group towards his home. Taken aback, we dutifully followed him until we reached the building he lived in.

  Kicking open the door, he led us inside to a living room that had a number of chairs and stools in it, as well as a glass coffee table that had a small tea set upon it.

  “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to feel happy and excited like this!” Grandor declared, shuddering in indescribable joy. “You have no idea what it’s like!”

  A sorrowful expression crossed over his face before the dwarf burst into laughter once more. “Sad! I was sad! Hahahaha! Can you believe it?!”

  He swept up the teapot and cups that were on the table and bustled off to the kitchen to make a new batch of drinks for his guests.

  “I am confused,” Dora said slowly, gingering sitting down in a chair made from steel. Gaelin plopped down into one as well, his choice in seats barely groaning from the weight of his armor, while I shrunk down slightly and hopped onto the top of a stool.

  “Isn’t it obvious? The price Sir Grandor had to pay in order to banish the Void from Era
fore was his emotions,” I said slowly. “Don’t you remember what Celbrem said? How unless it was with one of his fellow heroes, or a Chosen One like us, he was incapable of speech.”

  “I guess that makes sense. ‘Hollow Stone’ is dwarf slang for someone who’s emotionless or heartless,” Gaelin mused. “Man, the Void is very literal with its punishments and curses.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. How’d you know?” I asked, intrigued. I knew because I’d traveled with a dwarf for a while. I wondered how Catherine was doing.

  “Well, when Lily was researching the likeliest places to find the Hero-King’s lost tomb, we did so in Arv Prith, in order to better get a grasp on dwarven runes and building techniques, since those were used in making King Gregor’s resting place. And when you study dwarven craft, you inevitably pick up some phrases,” the halberdier explained after taking his helmet off.

  “You’re quite sharp,” Grandor praised as he reentered the living room, carrying a tray that contained a steaming pot of tea and four mugs. “The Void cursed me by removing my emotions. Only in rare circumstances am I allowed to have them back.”

  “Isn’t that… not that bad?” Dora asked. “I’d think that not being bothered by emotions would be a good thing.”

  The legendary hero shot her a pitying look and shook his head. “No. Losing emotions is… well, you can’t feel pain anymore. Or care about it. Life without emotions is more than monotonous. It’s dreary and dreadful. I work. And work. And work some more, endlessly. I rarely take breaks because I don’t enjoy doing so. I take no pride in any of my work. Hence why so much of it is outside in the yard, acting as a fancy fence.”

  “I used to believe my emotions hindered me,” Grandor continued, a pained look in his eyes. “Back before I joined up with Barron and the others, I thought only the craft mattered. That nothing was more important than being the best blacksmith. It was through my friends I saw that if you don’t enjoy what you do, then how exactly am I different from a wandering Undead, seeking purpose? Or a Golem, endlessly toiling for no reason other than it is all that I know to do?”

  “Gaining emotions, only to lose them… that sort of soul wrenching agony isn’t something I’d wish onto anyone.” Grandor sighed heavily. We watched him, sympathy dancing in our gazes.

  After another minute of deep silence the blacksmith clapped his hands together loudly. “Alright!” he said, looking at all three of us with determination in his eyes. “My task is straightforward. I want you to acquire materials for me to use so I can forge each of you a weapon to use against the Void and its minions.”

  “I already have a weapon,” Gaelin pointed out, gesturing to the halberd at his side.

  “And I’m more of a mage than a melee fighter,” I added. “Plus, I already have a staff. Not that I use it much. But I have one!”

  “And that is where you’re both wrong,” Grandor said with a shake of his head. “Sure, your weapon is swanky, but it’s not enough to destroy the Void, and you know it, Dark Horse.” Gaelin grimaced.

  He turned to me next. “And as for you, Mister Jiggles, a staff is well and dandy, but you need more than that! A weapon that can channel magic, like those elfish Spellswords, is your best bet for confronting Void spawn and the like. After all, they’ll try to kill you with both long-range and close-range tactics. You need a way to do the same.”

  “As for you, Miss Halfmoon, may I see your hands?” he asked Dora, leaving me to ruminate on his words. She nodded wordlessly and scooted closer so the dwarf could get a better look at her palms.

  “Hmm, not too calloused, but those that exist tell me you’re used to using… a crossbow as your main weapon, and a dagger as a backup tool,” Grandor guessed, and the Healer nodded in surprise.

  “Yes, that’s right!”

  Grandor grunted to himself. “Hmm, still got it! Anyways, I have some ideas for weapons I can design for all of you, but you have to decide yourselves if you want them. I won’t make anything you lot will refuse to wield.”

  “I’ll take your offer!” Dora said quickly, raising her hand eagerly. “I’d love a new crossbow! Can you make it able to punch through plate mail and demons with ease?”

  “Absolutely!” Grandor chuckled fondly.

  “Do you really think I need a sword?” I asked him carefully.

  “Fancy sticks are no match for the Void, regardless of how well made,” Grandor sternly told me. “Celbrem learned that the hard way when a World Rebellion cultist managed to destroy his favorite staff.”

  “But what kind of weapon could I possibly use?” I asked, wobbling my gelatinous body for emphasis. “I lack the kind of strength that would make such things even remotely useful!”

  “It is true, you are rather limp and floppy,” the dwarfen smith admitted after eyeing me closely. “But I think I have an idea for a weapon you might like. Ever heard of a Meteor Hammer?”

  “Can’t say I have,” I replied.

  “Well, they are a Qwanese weapon, where a weighted object, like an iron orb or a hammer head, is attached to both ends of either a rope or a chain. This item can then be spun, slashed, and whipped around, using the momentum of the weighted ends to deliver punishing blows. I’ve made several before, and am familiar with their design.”

  “Makes sense,” I said slowly. “But again, it’d require physical power to use…”

  “Not if I forge it in a modified way. Ever heard of Squard?” Grandor asked me, and I jiggled in confusion.

  “No,” I replied. “Should I have?”

  “Probably not. They’re an amphibian species. Sort of like sharks crossed with squids that can breathe on land or in the water. But they have tentacles, sort of like the tendrils you can grow. And they use a unique form of Meteor Hammer known as Squid Hammers that take into account their appendages lack of bones. These weapons can be fast as a whip, and hit as hard as a war hammer. And they work underwater as well!” the famous smith explained.

  “Huh. Sounds interesting. Alright, if you can make it channel magic as well, you’ve got yourself a deal!” I declared. A weapon from Distant Qwan did indeed sound very interesting, especially one modified for squid-sharks! Dora too also looked intrigued by the notion.

  “And what about me?” Gaelin spoke up, arms folded across his chest. “I already have a weapon that can channel magic and is mostly immune to the depredations of the Void.”

  “Hmm, I suppose you have a point,” Grandor sighed begrudgingly. “You already have a fearsome artifact. Perhaps a defensive item? A shield won’t work, too unwieldy when using a polearm. A shield-gauntlet might work better… yes! That’s it! A shield-gauntlet! With knuckle spikes, and the rim as sharp as honed steel…!”

  “Actually, I already had an idea,” the halberdier said quickly, interrupting Grandor’s musings.

  “Well, then, spit it out!” the smith demanded, and the brunet nodded slowly.

  “Have you ever heard of the Shatterbane enchantment?” he asked.

  Grandor frowned deeply. “I’m a smith, so of course I know of it! But I’m also a talented one instead of a hack, so I’ve never seen the need to forge something like that,” he replied, his tone insulted.

  “Explain for the unaware, please,” Dora requested, and I bobbed up and down in agreement.

  “Shatterbane is a special hex you inlay into a weapon or piece of armor, and if it breaks, whatever broke the enchanted item is also destroyed along with it,” Gaelin explained. “Criminals purposefully forge weak and brittle daggers and such like, and hex ‘em. Then, when these low-quality weapons eventually break when fighting someone better equipped, suddenly the field is evened as weapons and armor start shattering left and right!”

  “Huh, that actually sounds kind of useful. Does it only affect forged items? Or could it, say, damage the scales and claws of a monster?” Dora asked.

  “If the Shatterbane enchanted item is broken with a physical object, said object is immediately hexed and will break as well. Claws, horns, rock, steel… it’
s all vulnerable,” Gaelin replied. “It won’t kill a normal creature, but they will be disarmed.”

  “It’s also a finicky enchantment, which is why most honest smiths want nothing to do with it,” Grandor butted in. “If the enchanted item is damaged by a long-ranged projectile, like say an arrow, then the Shatterbane will only break said arrow, and then be completely useless. And magical attacks will negate the Shatterbane hex entirely.”

  “Furthermore, the hex can’t enchant something that already has another enchantment on it, and it has a scaling effect. If the item enchanted is a crude, rusty iron dagger, then the only thing it can break is equipment of similar make and materials. So, an iron Shatterbane hexed weapon can only destroy items made of iron or low-grade steel,” the heroic smith went on, his temper flaring as he spoke of the enchantment. “And the remnants of a hexed object aren’t even worth recycling. Just cast ‘em into a volcano or deep, dark pit and hope they never bother anyone again.”

  “But it is possible for you to make one,” Gaelin urged. Grandor nodded slowly.

  “Yes, but…”

  “Listen, I have an idea.” He told us his plan, and we all gaped at him, stunned by the audacity of it.

  “…That could work,” Grandor said slowly, his mind calculating the materials he’d need to pull it off. “But I warn you, the cost will be great. Far greater than anything your two companions will have to pay. And success or not, it will likely cripple you.”

  “I’m willing to take that chance,” Gaelin said firmly, a fire in his eyes. “The World Rebellion won’t know what hit them!”

  ~(o)~

  “To make your equipment, I’ll need special materials. Gather them, and return here so I can get to work!”

  With that statement, Grandor all but tossed us out of his home, and went about his lava-powered forge preparing for the creation process ahead of him.

  He did give us two items: a badge made of black adamantium with his personal emblem engraved upon it, and a list that contained the names of the items he wished for us to collect. Some of them made sense, as they were metals and special burnable substances to add to the flames to make them hotter and magical, but some were decidedly odd.