by Han Yang
An hour later, my migraine subsided slightly. I flicked my orb to retrieve my stats and upgrade what I could. After pumping up more attributes due to physical exercise of jogging and walking, I realized that I too had run out of Z.
Name: Damien Moonguard
Race: Human
Affiliation: Neutral
Zorta: 0.058
Nordan Score: 4600
Ostriva Score: 7500
Location: Ikara Valley
Magic Type: Healer
Healer Level: 4
Magic Type 2: Necromancer
Necromancy Level: 2
Necromancer Minions: 3/5
Fighting Level: Pathetic
Mana: -140/25
Mana Recharge: 3
Strength: 6
Stamina: 5
Dexterity: 4
Constitution: 7
Willpower: 6
Cultivation: 6
Intelligence: 25
Wisdom: 25
Charisma: 17
Tracking: 3
Endurance: 6
Perception: 6
Burst: 4
Reflex: 4
Healing: 5
Melee Combat: 4
Aim: 2
Hunger: 1
Thirst: 1
Aging: 59 years until death.
My affiliation had swapped to neutral, I added twelve more years to my life, and my base stats were rising quickly. I kinda felt like the easy gains were over but who knew.
Ten thousand seemed like such a low number to get home, especially when the rumors said a champion was worth ten times that.
Maybe Caitlyn offered me an easy deal because she didn’t believe in me. She did mention this was hardly worth her time. I was fairly certain there were going to be strings dangled in front of me if I became successful. Hell, I’d do that to me.
“Ugh, he ignores me completely,” Tarla grumbled.
I opened my eyes, seeing her lovely, freckled face inches over mine. Her browns stared down with caring.
This was something I’d avoided normally, letting a woman dote on me when I turned ill.
“Drink this slowly. It’s nothing but simple water,” she said, and I sipped her cool offering. Her eyes shifted to watch Jark and Bell talking about conjoined magic. “What’s your plan if they run off?”
I painfully smiled and said, “Talk later.”
Explaining to a woman that she needed to let her twin go didn’t rate high on my priorities list at the moment. Plus, she was overreacting. Jark would die if he and I separated too far.
I had a feeling this was how Harvish controlled his scouts in that story. It would make sense for me to be able to send my minions on missions, just not across the world.
Tarla hummed to me, stroking my hair. Even though I roiled in misery, I found myself in a little bit of heaven. I also learned a super valuable lesson. If a minion died, they died. Unless I leveled up a lot and built up my mana pool.
Seeing as how my wisdom, intelligence, healer, and necromancer levels had all stayed the same recently, my mana remained flat. In order to increase my mana, I needed a whole lot of Z.
And so, the cycle continued, for all of us. I didn’t even know what upgrading Asha would do either. The system sucked at giving me information dumps, and for once I wished one of my movie monologues would spew out a bunch of information. I had to believe there were guides and books that would help me. I just needed to find them.
Bell seemed to believe that once we had a temple going Caitlyn would be able to visit and answer questions.
The next two hours passed with me hating life but enjoying Tarla’s presence. I learned a valuable lesson, and if I had to guess, riled the anger of Perqueta. The question running through my mind was whether he would abandon his home to try and exact revenge?
CHAPTER 20
Ikara Valley
Those scenes in the movie where the adventurers sat at the edge of a clearing watching a large valley from above? That was me. I was transfixed by the sight before me.
Nordan was different from Earth. If I was to summarize Nordan, I would say it held a grandeur aspect. Trees were bigger, mountain ranges larger, and even the bears were huge. This theme repeated itself in a fantasy setting that I could relate to.
In Ostriva, at least in this section that had been transposed by the gods, the vegetation and animal life had remained on par with Earth. However, my summation of Ostriva was: colorful.
Grass grew blue with purple tips. Vegetation sprouted in rainbow effects. A flock of birds carried an array of parrot colors. Everything was different in a myriad of ways and so very alien.
A small lake rested in the middle of the clearing we stared down upon. Large lily pads obscured most of the water. A small herd of unicorns drank from the water's edge. A large alpha watched over the process, constantly on the alert.
Not far away, a hippo type animal sunbathed.
Where there’s water there’s life. So alien, so very, very alien.
We waited on our hill, keeping a low silhouette while Sven and Asha scouted. Today was the big day. Getting across the valley would mean another week in Ostriva lands.
“I miss baths,” Tarla said quietly, gazing down upon the water.
“I don’t think that lake is safe,” I said quietly.
Jark watched our back from the trees behind us while he set up a midday camping spot. He finished the hideout with leafy fronds over the top. Sticks encircled the canvas, and he did a good job making sure the spot blended in as if it were just another bush.
After Jark finished, he crouched, walking his way over with a waddle. “They’re coming back, and Sven’s carrying something.”
We hunched over and retreated into the trees to see what the scouts had uncovered.
The trees here were still from Nordan with their towering height and large roots. We found a nice alcove that Jark had built off and went into our hiding spot.
A moment later, Asha appeared with a frown. Sven tightly carried a live jungle cat the size of a dog. The animal clawed and bit at his bones, but Sven let the animal entertain itself while he kept it from fleeing.
“Uh… what’s that?” I asked.
“Live animals fetch great trade,” Asha said.
I stared at him flatly.
Bell chuckled and said, “The dwarves are a week or two away.”
“Well, there’s a massive minotaur city not far to the north of the lake. I’ve been there before, and it was easy in, easy out. I really think we should go in there to trade,” Asha said.
“Aren’t minotaurs exactly what we should be avoiding? And couldn’t this just be a loose pet they don’t care about?” Tarla asked while pointing to the large cat.
“We can kill it and avoid the minotaurs,” he said with a shrug. “It should be at least half a Zorta. Or it would make a great critter hunter. Small animals add up over time.”
“Facing the water, the minotaurs are which way?” I asked.
“To the right. To the left was an old settlement of lizard people, I think,” Asha said.
I hung my head, not loving having to make the hard decisions. “Bind the cat. If we can use it to barter, great. If not…” I let the sentence hang.
“I recommend we trade the cat,” he said again. “What else do you have in the bag? They use Zorta as a currency, and careful, they call it Zorta, not Z.”
“Okay, that’s different from trading some animal. Look, I don’t want to go into a strivian city and end up prisoners,” I said. “I’ll be quick to admit that I know nothing of what we would encounter. As for the bag, it’s empty, unfortunately. The book of the gods was allowed to stay, but everything else was removed and is now long gone.”
“Bring that to trade also. You, me, and the centaur could go in. The fact he is undead and still a skeleton will be beneficial. I’ve traded with them before, but they’re the opposite of my den. Minotaurs come by Zorta easily. While they still trade in it, other items are more valuable,�
� Asha said.
Tarla gazed at me hesitantly and asked, “What do they have worth trading for that the dwarves don’t?”
“We would trade finely crafted battleaxes for… servants, meat, and Zorta,” he said.
Even the elves of Nordan are slavers. This realm is so brutal to life.
“They don’t just kill those who come to their city?” I was a bit confused.
“Minotaurs are fighters, but they have societal rules that glue together a bit of Ostriva society. Before the cataclysm, they were a ruling species and they still are. Just like the yabbi, they build, nurture their young, conquer their enemies, and trade openly. They may not be good guys, but they certainly aren't rabid, ruthless beings without thought,” Asha said without being condescending.
“Alright, how safe is this shelter?” I asked.
“Very safe. Jark did a great job. There’s no game trails nearby or any reason to come to this spot. If I wasn’t drawn to you through our link, even I would have missed this small space,” Asha said.
I need to take the risk it seems. “You three stay here and give me ten Z,” I said. Bell, Tarla, and Jark’s eyes went wide. “Asha can’t betray me intentionally. We could use some food, a tent, and a second blanket. Plus… Two more minions. Think about how much Z income we lost from going down to a single skeleton hunting.”
“I trust you,” Bell said with a smirk.
This time Tarla growled in frustration.
I leaned down and softly kissed my fiery redhead on the lips.
“Hey,” Jark said, and Bell slugged his arm.
“You three behave. I’ll be back soon. If I die, Jark dies, and you’ll know to head back to Tarb,” I said with a playful brow bounce.
“Not exactly helping,” Jark said, folding his arms.
I snickered and said, “I miss the strong, silent skeleton.”
“Jerk,” he said half-heartedly.
“This is a good time to catch up on some sleep.” I retrieved the gods’ book out of the bag and Bell frowned but didn’t say anything. “We’ll be back soon.”
Asha and I exited the small hiding spot, walking away from the trio. The tall trees enclosed us, and only a few feet away, I lost sight of their cover.
“Alright let’s go over some basic etiquette. You’re human, they’ll care and they won’t. You piss someone off, show them your traders’ necklace. Most will probably find you amusing and ignore you as an inferior, which, be honest with yourself, you’ll weigh a third of a minotaur with a tenth of their strength. Don’t leer at the females, they go bare breasted or in armor. There is no in-between and it's natural, the moment you fixate on their milkers you offend,” he said.
“Haggling?” I asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Asha said with a hint of dismay. “I can negotiate, and it's best if I do. I’ll pretend to be your guide and stick with the ‘I was abducted’ story. It's weak, but not too far-fetched. Oh, only say it if you absolutely have to.”
“Could we not fit in here?” I asked, and he frowned. “As in, living here. If the Z… Zorta is that good here, then maybe it's exactly where we need to be.”
“Uh, no. They’re a hyper-sexual race. Most strivians rule off their baser instincts; reproduce, dominate, gain wealth. Generally, in that order. Bell and Tarla would cause a lot of strife,” Asha said. “Even I find them attractive, they are altered by the goddess.”
I processed this and decided it was fact. “Um… Hey, so you seemed really confident the ladies would be safe,” I said.
“Yeah, they will be. There’s no tracks going uphill at all. The minotaurs revere their strivian lands and only venture out of them in armies. The hunting is bad up top compared to inside the Ostriva jungle. I mean, you saw the lake teeming with life.
“This next week, our travels won’t be endless miles of forest. The Ostriva landscape just provides so much more life with every tree bearing fruit, every bush bearing berries, and every flower having nectar or sugar,” Asha said.
We walked down a slope, crossing the line of dark brown dirt and arrived at a rich purplish soil.
It was exactly as Asha said; lizards hopped between branches like flying squirrels, a small hawk dove onto a large dragonfly, and I felt the worms shifting beneath my feet. Everywhere I looked, life went about their day trying to survive the Ostriva jungle.
“Whoa, they’re going to be loaded with Z,” I said in wonderment.
“Yeah, the strivians are divided. Their great equalizer is that they have in abundance what the humans crave. It sets up for the perfect reason to war,” Asha said, leading me around an extra-large hole in the ground. “Tarkaworms can kill but rarely go for something our size.”
“How did Sven catch the cat?” I asked.
“Oh, it jumped on him. He asked for you to officially change his name so that he won't hear you degrading his birth name. Or to use his proper name,” Asha said.
I glanced over at the taller centaur who cradled the cat. To be fair, I had forgotten his name.
“Tell you what,” I said with a pause, pulling up his minion data, “Serriavian, I’ll let you be you, but try to see if there is a shorter variation you like.” The skeleton’s head shook no. “No shorten then, I can respect that. Ser-riav-ian. I will try to remember.”
We followed a trail, alert and aware even if we talked. I did feel a bit better about leaving the ladies when we walked for a solid hour. This city certainly wasn’t near to where they rested.
A minotaur approached, walking in our direction, and I stiffened. The beast towered over us, at least twice my height. His muscles bulged and large horns jutted out with sharpened points.
Scars traced his body, and he stared down his snout at us as we neared. His armored kilt likely weighed more than I did, and a battleaxe taller than me jutted off his back.
Instead of passing us, he stopped and said, “A human slave and a centaur minion, you intrigue me, yabbi.”
“Actually, I’m the necromancer, and he is my elva guide,” I said.
The minotaur snorted out a loud exhale and eyed me like I was crazy. “Ah, the yabbi and elva are cousins, or so my history lessons say. A human necromancer.” He paused, shifting his frown into an amused smirk. “What could you possibly want?”
I had erred greatly in my assumption of what a minotaur was. Luckily, I figured it out quickly. Minotaurs were not dumb brutes, not this one at least. His words were somewhat refined, and his folded arms and smug gaze told me he enjoyed a break from the monotony of life.
“What’s that thing worth?” I asked, thumbing the cat. “We have Zorta,” I used the full term, “but I take it that’s not worth much here.”
“Wise deduction. Come, the cat is great for the arena. We can trade Zorta or supplies for it. They’re known for clawing those they hop onto until one of the two dies. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you're lucky it didn’t kill you, and jumped on your minion,” the minotaur said.
Feeling we missed a step, I said, “I’m Damien, and not only would I like to trade for basic supplies, but a guide through the valley would be nice too.”
“Oskatriver. Trading with the dwarves?” he asked, taking a guess with the minimal information I had given him. We came from the south and there were only dwarves to the north.
“Yes, I need a long-term trading partner as my power grows,” I said.
“Plenty of trolls, ogres, and gnolls around the dwarves. Good fighting that my kind generally avoids, including myself. Takes too much time away from my studies and watching the arena. Hmm…” he said, mulling something over. “What’s this one worth to you?”
“Serriavian, uh, depends. He was plotting to kill me, but I beat him to it, and now he’s been a good minion,” I said.
“Let me introduce you to Xastriban first,” Oskatriver said. “Locals call it Stri City or just Stri.”
We followed him through thinning trees until we escaped the forest type jungle.
The terrain shifted into fields of a la
rge oat being harvested. The workers obviously weren’t minotaurs, and it was easy to understand why. Massive guards watched the smaller ratkin, trolls, goblins, gnomes, humans, elva, yabbi, dwarves, and many other mythical type creatures as they toiled.
In a straight melee fight, a minotaur probably could best a few of the smaller species at the same time. It made sense for them to be rulers as a plentiful, articulate, and strong race. The workers appeared well-fed and in decent clothing. None bore marks of abuse or signs of damage.
“Where’s the troublemakers? The workers seem so well mannered,” I said.
“Ah, new to a minotaur city?” he asked, knowing I had just given myself away.
I nodded and stuck to my silence instead of trying to justify a lie about being captured.
“The arena,” Asha said. “Troublemakers fight to the death here. They get revived until they learn their lessons or stay dead. Most cue in pretty quickly.”
I nodded, understanding this and wanting to keep my mouth shut. We walked through the fields, heading for a tall palisade made of Nordan trees. Eventually, we arrived on a north south road. A river that likely fed the lake to our south cut through the city.
Xastriban certainly reminded me of a medieval city from outside the walls. It stank, smoke drifted high, and an infestation of a pigeon type bird filled the skies. This was likely the slums, filled with a whole lot of nastiness, and when I was able to peek on the inside, I saw more of what I had expected in Tarb.
“I see your eyes judging my home. We’re going to the open city. There’s three sections; our homes, made of stone and cleaned daily, and then the wooden hovels of those we conquered. You do not warrant the honor of visiting our estates and rightfully so. In between the poor and the rightful, there’s a middle trading zone with an arena. We keep the blood, gambling, and cheaper market outside the main walls.
“You are a neutral. I hear it in your voice and sense it in your care for a conquered enemy. I think you should take my deal and flee before someone less courteous than myself kills you,” Oskatriver said. His voice certainly sent my hairs on edge with his warning.
