Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  Max didn’t even look at Fitchstone.

  Instead, he turned and looked upward at the rows of seats rising above. He was surprised to see several races other than dwarves. There were more gnomes, along with a group of humans all in one section. Near the top were a pair of minotaurs standing at the back wall. Max wondered if they were guards, or just didn’t want to sit on the low benches. The creatures were at least a foot taller than Max himself. He also spotted both light and dark elves, as well as humanoids with animal features like fox ears and tails, even a couple that looked like wolves.

  In an alcove above the doors there sat several winged beings. They were small in stature, and Max had no idea what they might be, other than some kind of Fae like Red. When he whispered a question to her, she didn’t respond.

  Max took his seat, his knees up near his chest as he tried not to kick the dwarves in front of him. Thelonia noted his discomfort and got to her feet, taking his hand. “Come, we’ll move down front where ye can stretch yer legs.” Max gratefully followed her to the very front row, where the dwarves there obligingly made room. The bench was still low, but Max was able to extend his legs a bit more, placing his feet against the base of the stage.

  As the room filled, an elderly gnome in a purple robe walked out onto the stage. Reaching the podium set near the front, he took two steps up so that his head could be seen over the top. He banged a small gavel, and called out in a surprisingly sonorous voice. “Welcome! Welcome one and all. This evening we will be offering a rare crafting material that has not been seen in Darkholm in more than a century! We have a lot of ten stone dragon scales! The entire quantity will be sold as a single lot, and the highest bidder wins. The winning bid must be paid within the hour, in gold coins, or some combination of currency and trade items, the value of which will be determined by this auctioneer, and pending approval by the seller.”

  There was some muttering in the crowd that died down quickly when he continued to speak. “Before we begin the bidding, let us show you what you’ve come here to see!” He motioned to the side of the stage, and a display cart was wheeled out. There were three levels to the display, each one a step higher than the last, and the scales were set upright in brackets like fine china. When the cart came to a halt, the gnome muttered a phrase and waved his hand, causing a three-dimensional image of the scales to appear above the stage, ten times their normal size. Everyone in the crowd leaned forward.

  From somewhere in the back, a voice echoed in the silence. “Gnomes rule!”

  Shaking his head, the auctioneer continued. “The heads of each clan or bidding enterprise, and their Master Smith, may step onto the stage to examine the offering more closely.” The gnome nodded at several known faces in the lower sections of seating. A few dozen dwarves, two humans, a light elf, and four gnomes got to their feet and filed past the display, patiently waiting their turn as each took a good look. They were allowed to touch the scales, but not remove them from their brackets.

  When the last of them had left the stage, the gnome banged his gavel once again. The illusion above his head faded, and he began.

  “The bidding shall begin at fifty gold coins per scale. That’s five hundred gold coins. Who’ll bid five hundred gold coins?”

  A gruff voice rang out from among the dwarves. “Bah! Waste o’ time! I bid twelve hundred gold coins fer the lot!”

  Max let out a long breath, leaning back in his chair. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been clenching his fists tightly enough that his nails were threatening to puncture his skin. He opened them wide and rubbed his palms on his knees. Thelonia nudged him with an elbow to get his attention.

  “Now ye can afford ta get a room at one o’ the nice inns, one that caters to lanky outsider specimens like you. Sleep in a bed with enough room to fit yer body. And maybe one other.”

  Max hadn’t even thought about that. But he quickly decided not to waste what he was sure would be a considerable amount of money on such comforts. “Maybe just a big mattress for the floor in my quarters.” He grinned at her. “Wouldn’t want to break a wooden bed frame.”

  “Ha! Ye got a point there.” The smile she gave him would have made his knees weak if he’d been standing. It was filled with equal parts promise, and mischief. She flicked her eyes meaningfully toward her father, and Max followed her gaze to find him leaning so far forward on his seat that he seemed likely to fall off. With each new bid, he inhaled sharply. And with bids coming fast and furious, Fitchstone seemed to almost be panting. “He’ll be impossible to live with fer a week. Telling me and anyone who’ll hold still to listen how he planned this whole thing.”

  “So, I shouldn’t show him the dragon bone shards I picked up?” Max spoke quietly, making sure everyone nearby was focused on the bidding.

  But he wasn’t quiet enough. Fitchstone’s eyes widened, then abandoned the auctioneer and laser focused on Max. “What did you say?” His voice had gone up at least an octave, and caught the attention of several nearby dwarves.

  “Not here. We’ll talk about it later.” Max growled. The old dwarf looked around, ducking his head between his shoulders in embarrassment. He quickly turned his attention back to the bidding.

  The winning bid ended up being for three thousand gold, two pounds of mixed rubies and emeralds, and a unique sword, custom crafted for Max by the same smith who was going to make use of the dragon scales. When the auctioneer looked down at Fitchstone, the dwarf quickly glanced at Max, who was nodding his head.

  “Sold! Our congratulations to Master Steelbender! May you craft a true masterpiece.”

  An ancient-looking dwarf with wrinkled skin and a long, scraggly grey beard that was scorched at the end practically leapt up onto the stage. Max saw Master Oakstone shaking his head, turning to leave the auction house with the rest of the crowd. He felt a little sorry for the dwarf, not being able to continue his family legacy.

  Fitchstone also rushed to the stage, carefully watching the auctioneer accept bags of gold and gems as the scales disappeared into Steelbender’s inventory. Waving for Max to join them, he introduced the venerable master smith. “Max Storm, this is Master Steelbender. He’ll be makin’ a sword worthy of one with your stature.”

  Max bowed his head. “Pleasure to meet you, Master Steelbender.”

  “And you, lad. Thank ye fer bringin’ these out o’ the Brightwood. If ye feel inclined to collect more, I’ll pay ye a similar price.” The dwarf reached out a hand, which Max shook. It was like gripping iron covered in thick leather.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but no promises.” He smiled. “And thank you for bidding so high!” Max winked at the dwarf, who chuckled.

  “This be a matter o’ pride. Many think the best crafters among our folk be gone, given back to the stone. I aim ta prove that we Steelbenders have not lost our skill, nor our heart! Ye can’t put a price on that.” He paused. “Also, once I finish the dragonscale armor, I can sell it fer twice what I paid ye.”

  Max grinned at the smith, then turned as the auctioneer cleared his throat. He handed Fitchstone a medium sized bag. “Your ten percent, including a portion equaling ten percent of the estimated value of the sword.” Then he handed Max a larger, heavier bag. “We took the liberty of converting two thousand of the gold into platinum coins, to reduce the weight. The rest is in gold bars and coins, except for twenty gold coins worth of silver. To make it easier for you to spend.” He smiled kindly at Max. “Especially at a certain bakery I’m told we both frequent.”

  Max returned the smile and shook the auctioneer’s hand. “Thank you, for everything.”

  “No thanks is required. I deducted our share, as well! And should you tire of carrying around all that precious metal, we offer banking services. Accessible at any major city on the continent.”

  Rather than thank the old gnome again, Max produced an apple pastry from their mutual favorite bakery and handed it to him. Master Steelbender laughed loudly. “If ye got one o’ them fer me as well, we can walk to me
smithy and discuss yer new sword.”

  Max gladly handed out pastries to Steelbender, Thelonia, and her father as well. Fitchstone took his leave, saying he wanted to get back to his shop. Thelonia opted to join Max, expressing interest in the sword. She’d told him during a break in the previous evening’s activities that she served as a guard in the mines below the city three nights each week. The smithy was on the way to her duty post for the night. Max was a little disappointed to hear that she wouldn’t be spending the night with him and his brand new pile of money.

  As they walked, Steelbender asked Max a series of questions about his fighting style, his skill with a sword. Max was embarrassed to admit that he had almost no skill with a sword. He’d trained to use knives and bayonets in his previous life, but not a sword.

  The smith asked Thelonia to walk ahead of them for a moment, so he could speak privately with Max. Thelonia deferred to her elder, and when she was far enough ahead, he whispered. “I can see that ye’re Battleborne. Don’t worry, I won’t be blatherin’ it about. But ye should know that those of us with sufficient levels, or certain skills, can see that bit o’ yer heritage. And I’m guessin ye be new to this world?”

  Max did some quick calculating. “Less than a week.”

  Steelbender laughed. “Aye, then ye’ve not had much chance to learn the sword, or any weapon, am I right?”

  “You are correct. I’ve earned the One-handed and Two-handed skills, but I was wielding an axe at the time. I do know that you point the sharp end at the enemy.”

  “Then I have a new proposal for ye. We’ll choose a good dwarven steel sword from me own inventory this evening. One that feels comfortable to ye, and fits yer strength and reach. When ye’ve had time to improve yer skill, come back and I’ll craft a sword worthy of a Battleborne that’ll match yer style.”

  “That’s very kind of you. I accept.” Max shook the dwarf’s hand.

  Soon enough they reached Steelbender’s forge. It was nothing like what Max had seen on the apprentice level. This was a free-standing building, set about twenty feet from a cavern wall. Two stories tall, it featured several tall, narrow windows and a set of double steel doors that now stood wide open. Inside there was a large forge in the left corner that looked as if it were made of black glass. Surrounding it were three workbenches, two anvils, several racks of tools and stock, barrels, etc. On the opposite end of the building were two smaller stone forges, each with two work stations.

  Seeing the curious gaze Max directed at the glass furnace, Steelbender walked toward it. “This be me baby. The entire furnace were crafted from a block of obsidian. Five hundred years I been puttin’ enchantments into me work here. The stone absorbs a wee bit of each one.”

  Impressed, Max started to reach for the glass, then stopped, looking over at Steelbender. When the dwarf nodded, he laid a hand on the glass. Though the forge was not lit, the glass felt warm to his touch. It tingled slightly, as if his hand had fallen asleep and blood flow was just returning. When he pulled his hand away, he was smiling. “You could lean on this when you have sore muscles. It would work wonders.”

  The dwarf chuckled. “Aye, sometimes I do. And it does.” He led them up a switchback ramp to the second floor, where Max got another surprise. Most of the area was one big armory, dwarfing the one he’d seen at the sentry post. Only there were no pots or pans on these racks. Only armor pieces and weapons of every imaginable type.”

  Max whistled. “Damn.” Thelonia’s eyes bulged a bit as well. The smith had an impressive inventory.

  He guided them over to a rack of longswords, meant to be wielded by a dwarf using two hands. “We dwarves be strong, but short of stature. There be a limit to the size blade we can wield, not because we can’t lift or move heavy blades, but because we’re low to the ground. And we mostly fight packed in narrow tunnels, shield to shield.”

  Looking up at Max, who was twice his height, he said, “Ye don’t have such a restriction. Ye look to be as strong as a dwarf, with plenty o’ room fer swingin long, heavy blades. Try one o’ these.” He motioned to the rack.

  Max’s inner warrior practically shoved him forward as he reached toward the nearest sword. From the tip of the blade to the butt of the hilt it was maybe four feet long. The blade itself was four inches wide at the base, tapering to a sharp point. A deep, wide fuller ran about two thirds the length of the blade, and one side of the base sported a dozen sharp notches that could be used to saw at a hard surface, or gut a victim.

  He gripped the leather-wrapped hilt with his right hand, lifting it from the rack. There was room for a second hand, but he didn’t need it. The blade felt light in his hands, no heavier than his rifle had felt when he was human. Or a wooden baseball bat. Though unlike a bat, the weight was more evenly distributed.

  Stepping away from the others, he gave it a few tentative twirls and swings before setting it carefully back on the rack. He touched each of the others briefly as he walked down the line. The sixth one he laid his hand on seemed almost to call to him.

  It was about the same length as the first, only instead of a single wide fuller there were three narrow ones running about halfway up the blade. There was no serrated edge, and the crossguard was a simple steel bar, curved upward and tapered to sharp points at either end. Leather wrapped the long handle, and a steel pommel was also tapered to a blunt spike. There was nothing fancy about the sword, no decoration or ostentation. It was a simple, efficient killing tool, and it spoke to his soul.

  “This one.” He took it off the rack, turning it over and taking a closer look. “I can kill orcs with this one.”

  Steelbender nodded. “That be a good choice. A bit heavier than others, but ye’ve got the build for it. Equally good for stabbin’ or cuttin’. And ye can crack a skull with the pommel.” He looked at Thelonia. “Ye got an hour or so before ye report for duty, no?”

  She grinned, and before Max could take another breath, she was wearing a full set of armor, carrying a shield and a short sword. “Care to accompany me outside for a little training?” She smiled up at him, daring him to take her on.

  “I… don’t want to hurt you.” He hesitated. She was so small, and female, and his human mindset made him take a step back.

  “Ha!” Steelbender looked at her, then him. “She be a seasoned fighter, nearly ten levels above ye. You be stronger, but not by that much. I’ll wager she puts ye down nine times out o’ ten.”

  Max still didn’t want to do it, not with live edges. But the two of them seemed to think it was the most natural thing in the world. So he followed them out to the area between the building and the cavern wall. There was a wide area of floor covered in sand, a practice arena. He stepped onto the sand with her, and she crouched into a ready stance, her shield in front of her, the sword held behind, ready to block, or strike.

  “Hit me!” She shouted, taking a single step forward. He instinctively started to step back, then growled and forced himself to stop. Leaning onto his front foot, he took a half-hearted swing with the sword in his right hand.

  Her shield went up, easily deflecting the blade up and away, then lunged forward and poked him in the thigh with the point of her sword, just hard enough to push through the leather pants and his tough skin, drawing a few drops of blood. He cursed and stepped back as she stuck out her tongue and waggled her sword at him. “Don’t be holdin’ back! Else I’ll be all day tomorrow sewin’ up the bloody tears in yer new clothes!”

  Max took a calming breath, eyeing his small but dangerous opponent. The pinprick in his leg was already healed, but he was annoyed at how easily she’d gotten to him. This time he took a more balanced stance, his sword held back over his right shoulder like a baseball bat. After another deep breath, he hopped forward, swinging the sword lower this time.

  Again she raised her shield, stopped the blow and somehow used its momentum to propel herself into a spin, pushing his blade aside and bringing her sword around in a backhand swing. This time she stopped the blade just
millimeters from his left knee, which was forward and held most of his weight after his lunge. “I coulda cut off yer leg here, brought ya down to where ye’d be easier to smooch!” She grinned.

  Max was too annoyed to laugh. Steelbender wasn’t.

  Max’s eyebrows knit together, and stepped back again. “That’s two.” was all he said before assuming his ready pose again. Thelonia happily obliged.

  For another half hour she taunted and bested him time and again. He landed blows on her shield, but never came close to touching her with the blade. She, in turn, gave him a dozen small nicks and cuts, and held her blows back from touching him a dozen more times at least. She had just slapped his butt with the flat of her blade hard enough to sting, when a deep gong sounded, and both dwarves froze. It sounded again, then again, and they sprang to action. “Grey dwarves!” Steelbender cursed, equipping his own armor in an instant. The two dwarves began to run around the building, and Max followed. They were soon joined by dozens, then scores of other dwarves, all fully armed and armored, heading the same direction.

  “What’s going on?” He asked Thelonia.

  “The damned greys have attacked, down in the mines!” She growled as she picked up speed. More and more dwarves were crowding into the tunnels as they ran. They were now moving more quickly than Max had thought dwarves could run, their little feet pumping, iron boots clomping on the stone. He kept pace, and simply followed along.

  Eventually they began to spread out, entering a wide cavern from which several tunnels branched out, and two wide ramps led downward. A dwarf with a red bristly crest on his helm was shouting out orders.

  “They broke through the floor of the furthest staging area of mine two. Overpowered the guards and miners, pushed most of em’ back deeper into the mine. They be trapped there, and holdin’ fer now, but they won’t last long. The damned greys have spread out in small groups through three dozen shafts n tunnels, workin their way up here! Break into platoons, and stop em! Kill em all if ye can, otherwise hold until reinforcements arrive. If ye can’t hold, retreat slowly, no makin heroic sacrifices. Live to fight again. Shield to shield!”