Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  “Thank you.” Max shook his head slightly to clear the last of the discomfort. “Now I can help heal in the coming battle, and maybe keep this crazy healer I know from risking her life again.”

  “Ye’re welcome. The more ye cast it, the stronger it will become. At level two, the healin’ increases by half. At level three it doubles, and at level four ye can heal three targets at once within a ten foot area.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get some use out of it tomorrow.” Max’s voice softened. He found himself thinking of Thelonia again, and he realized he should pay a visit to her father.

  “Dalia, I want to offer my condolences to Fitchstone. Thelonia’s father. Is there a… specific custom among your people?”

  “Take him some spirits.” She smiled sadly at him. “If ye like, I’ll go with ye. I know just the place. And while we’re out we can get rid o’ some loot from last night.”

  Max agreed, and they were off as soon as both had finished breakfast. They made a quick stop for showers, and once again Max was reminded of Thelonia as he donned a set of the clothes she’d made him.

  Dalia led him first to a distillery not far from the market square where Fitchstone’s shop was located. There was a line of dwarves already there to purchase bottles and casks. She shook her head. “So many lost. All these folks here have the same idea we do. It be a sad day, with more to come.”

  When they reached the front of the line, a somber clerk asked what they needed. Dalia quietly gave her order, and a minute later Max was the owner of several bottles of something called Firebelly’s Finest.

  As they exited the building and proceeded toward the square, Max said, “I’d normally sell all my loot to Fitchstone. But that doesn’t seem appropriate now.”

  Dalia thought about it before answering. “We dwarves honor our dead, and o’ course the loss of a loved one makes us sad. But we do not mourn as humans do. Let Fitchstone tell ye if he wants to do business or not.”

  Max thought he understood, to an extent. As soldiers, he and his men would often honor their fallen brothers with drinks and stories, then get back to business the next day. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the sting of loss, it was just that they had work to do. Mourning could be done in private, later.

  They entered Fitchstone’s Emporium together, Dalia walking slightly behind Max. When the old dwarf spotted them, he moved briskly from behind the counter. “Max! It be good to see ye still among the livin’.” He reached to shake Max’s hand and saw the bottle it held. Dalia stepped forward and handed over her bottle as well. “Ah, so ye hear’d about me girl?” He accepted the bottles, gazing sadly at them

  “I… I was there with her. When she fell.” Max could barely get the words out.

  The old dwarf’s eyes snapped upward to meet Max’s. “Tell me.”

  Max took a deep breath. “We were sparring at Master Steelbender’s when the alarms went off. All of us ran down into the mines, and I ended up following her guard platoon into the fight.” He paused, clearing his throat and wishing he had a good stiff drink. Fitchstone took the hint and quickly retrieved three glasses before opening one of the bottles and pouring drinks.

  Max downed his drink in one gulp, and quickly discovered why it was called Firebelly’s. The liquid seared his gullet all the way down. With a slight cough, he continued.

  “The platoon found some greys killing a group of miners. Thelonia charged into the fight without fear. Stayed on the front line, holding back the greys while the rest of us cut them down. She was amazing.” Max’s eyes unfocused as he thought back to the fight, remembering her in action. “We were outnumbered, but the shield wall held.”

  Tears formed in his eyes, and he didn’t bother wiping them away. Holding Fitchstone’s gaze, he got to the worst part. “I saw her go down, a blow to the head from a grey’s war hammer. I’m afraid I went a little insane at that point. Dove over our lines and killed as many as I could before I had to fall back. By the time I got to her… she was gone. I’m so sorry, my friend.”

  “There were nothin ye could do, Max.” the old dwarf sniffed. “They bring’d her back to me, and I saw the wound she took. She’d have been gone before she hit the ground. But I’m glad ye avenged her passin’!”

  Dalia spoke up, her voice surprising Max. “He did more’n that. He were nearly dead when I arrived with the reinforcements. The platoon leader told us he saved the unit from bein wiped out entirely, along with the miners. Then he joined us in the next fight, and the next, all night. By me best estimate, he killed or wounded nearly a hundred greys, leapin’ into the fray all growly and scary-lookin! Swingin’ his great sword like it were a stick, knockin’ the enemy back and cuttin’ bits off em left n right. Had the greys wettin’ themselves in fear.”

  The old merchant grinned at Dalia, then up at Max. Refilling the glasses, he raised his high. “To me girl! To Thelonia!”

  “To Thelonia!” the others called out, raising their own glasses.

  They shared several more rounds, taking seats in a back room that had a table and chairs. Fitchstone told stories of Thelonia’s antics as a little girl, and her lifelong desire to be a city guard. After a while, the old dwarf grew somber, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “I thank ye fer visitin’ an old man.” He reached out and patted Max’s hand. “Now, tell me. Did ye get much loot from the grey bastards?”

  Surprised at the rapid left turn in the conversation, Max coughed, then took another swallow of Firebelly’s. “Yes, I think so? I haven’t really checked.”

  The old merchant smiled. “Ye been busy. But if yer willin’, I’ll take all ye got. Both o’ you. Gonna sell it to the kobolds!” he cackled with glee.

  When Max shot a questioning glance at Dalia, who was also chuckling, she explained. “The grey dwarves enslave kobolds, using them as labor, battle fodder, and sometimes even food. They are mortal enemies. There is a kobold city deep below us and to the east that the greys raid a few times each year.”

  Fitchstone added, “The kobolds be strong, and hardy enough, but they’ve no real skill in crafting weapons. They mine like they were born to it, though! We’ll trade em a pile o’ the greys’ own weapons n armor fer a pile o’ gold, then set em loose on the greys!” He clapped his hands together, enjoying the irony.

  “But aren’t we about to go wipe out the greys’ city ourselves?” Max frowned.

  “Aye, ye will, lad. But the greys be dishonorable cowards. When it’s clear they’re losin’ the fight, they’ll turn and flee into the tunnels. And out there in the dark, stumblin’ around tired in small groups without their walls to protect em, the kobolds will hunt em down without mercy. The kobolds will feast on grey dwarf stew for months!”

  Max promptly began removing items from his inventory. He pulled out everything he’d received during the night’s battles, surprised by the sheer volume of it. There were more than a dozen of the shields with spikes on them, thirty wicked-looking daggers with poisoned tips, eighteen swords, one of them with a broken blade. Steel chestguards, boots, gauntlets, even a few helms. The table was quickly filled and the items began to tumble onto the floor as the old dwarf grinned and rubbed his hands together.

  When Max was done, there were more than a hundred items. As Fitchstone was adding up the value, Max took a moment to review his logs, which Red kindly condensed into a summary for him. In addition to the weapons and armor, he’d looted forty gold, thirty silver, and some copper. There were a dozen health potions, two mana potions, some crafting ingredients including four grey gems. Curious, Max pulled one out to Examine it.

  Charged Minor Soul Gem

  Item Quality: Uncommon

  Soul Content: Kobold, level 10

  Seeing what Max was studying, Dalia offered, “Must have been a summoner among the greys ye killed. They trap the souls of their kills in gems like that one. Then they can use the gem to summon it back to fight for them, or use its energy for other things.” She looked as if she wanted to spit. “Nasty bastards.�
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  Max put the gem back into storage. He watched as Fitchstone made some notes on a slate board with a piece of chalk. When he was done, he swept all the items into a storage device that looked like a belt buckle. Turning to Dalia, he asked, “And would ye like to dispose o’ your spoils as well?”

  She grinned and began unloading just as Max had. Her pile wasn’t as large, partly because she’d come late to the fighting, and apparently because healers who don’t directly attack the enemy don’t get as large a share of the loot as someone doing damage like Max.

  They waited patiently, now sipping at their fiery drinks as Fitchstone made his calculations. It only took a few minutes before he was through. “I’ll start with you, Dalia, as yers is the easier. I be figuring all of it together be worth…” He paused for effect, grinning. “Four hundred twenty gold.”

  “Bah! It’s worth maybe three hundred, and ye know it!” She frowned at him. “I’d not take advantage o’ yer sorrow or need fer revenge.”

  “Aye, maybe.” Fitchstone acknowledged. “But I’ll be makin twice that amount from the kobolds tonight. They throw their gold n gems around like common stones, especially now that they smell blood! Their merchants already be makin’ the rounds, buyin all they can. No harm in an old dwarf sharing a windfall with a pretty lass, is there?” He threw her an exaggerated wink, and Max suspected he was more than a little drunk.

  “No, nothin’ wrong with that.” Dalia agreed, less than sober herself. She accepted a money pouch from Fitchstone, who then turned to Max.

  “And now for you, big fella. I’ll give ye…” He paused to look down at his slate, and Max interrupted.

  “I don’t want your gold. I fully support your plan to arm the kobolds and help them slaughter the murderous bastards that killed Thelonia. Instead of gold, I’d like to trade for a few items I might need, and you can give the kobolds a discount if you like. Let them get a few extra weapons for their gold.”

  Knowing that Max had just cashed in on the auction, and also aware that he might not want to discuss it in front of Dalia, the merchant just nodded. “What’re ye needin’?”

  “Well, I have the alchemy skill, so I should be able to make potions and things. I’ve picked up some ingredients outside, and looted several more. But I don’t know what tools I need.”

  Dalia grinned, definitely drunk. “I’ll make ye a list. Me da’s an alchemist. I grew up in his shop.” She pulled paper from her inventory and began to squint at it as she scribbled.

  Max continued. “I need a set of smithing tools. Nothing fancy. And…” He made a list for Fitchstone, thinking back to when he’d done this the last time, moments before he first met Thelonia. The dwarf began to putter about, rounding up items from here and there and stacking them on the table after clearing all of Dalia’s loot into the same storage buckle. The items nearly filled the tabletop, the majority of the space taken by several rows of health and mana potions.

  Dalia handed over her list, and Fitchstone went to retrieve the alchemy supplies. He returned once with a double armful of vials and bottles, then disappeared again. While they were waiting, she said, “I been thinkin’ bout how ye fight.”

  “Something wrong with the way I fight?” He smiled at her, teasing.

  “Well, besides nearly gettin’ yerself killed all the time, no. It’s just, I think ye could do more damage from behind the lines when yer not goin’ all berserk on enemy ground.”

  Max was intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, ye can learn some better offensive magic. The confusion spell be handy, and the drain spell be effective. But ye have a limited supply o’ mana, even with the potions yer buyin here. So even a good fire spell would be limited.” She paused to burp quietly, pounding her chest. “What ye need is a way to do physical damage at a distance. And I think I know what ye need.” She smiled happily at him, then whispered something to Fitchstone when he returned.

  “Ha!” The old dwarf apparently agreed, turning and practically running back into the shop. When he appeared again, he was holding a steel bow. It was nearly as long as Max was tall. “Got this from a minotaur who needed healing potions and a transport scroll, and didn’t have the gold for both.” He offered the bow to Max, who Examined it as he took it in hand.

  Steel Recurve Longbow

  Item quality: Good

  Attributes: N/A

  Durability: 100/100

  Max took the bow in his left hand and extended his arm, then hooked the string with his right index and middle fingers, being careful not to involve his sharp nails. He gave the string an experimental pull, and the bow bent slightly. A harder pull made the bow bend further, his elven ears picking up a slight creaking of the metal.

  Fitchstone looked on approvingly. “Ye have the strength to pull it. This be no normal bow. The steel bows o’ the minotaurs be famous fer both power and distance.” He pulled a quiver of arrows made from some sort of light metal. “Shoot one o’ these from that bow, it’ll go through a tree! Or through two, maybe three grey dwarves!”

  As a hunter, Max had used a bow lots of times growing up. It wasn’t his first choice of weapon for hunting deer, but when shooting at targets he generally hit within the three inner rings. But he had no idea if the skill would transfer to this new world. Or how much his new elven heritage would help him.

  “Thank you, both of you. This might be a big help.” He liked the idea of being able to pick off enemies from well behind the lines. And he was certainly tall enough to fire over the heads of his allies without endangering them.

  Dalia smiled and clumsily batted her eyelashes at him. “With this, ye can hang back and protect me, and the other healers, but mostly me, while we keep our brothers n sisters in the fight.”

  Max bowed his head, keeping his face as straight as possible. “It would be my honor, lady Dalia.”

  “Bah!” She blushed and looked away.

  Noticing that both Dalia and Fitchstone were starting to slur their words, Max figured it was time to go. “Thank you, Fitchstone, for all of this. And again, I’m sorry about Thelonia. I just wish-”

  “No, lad. No wishin’. Don’t go down that road. It were me girl’s fate to give her life to save our city. She accepted that when she joined the guards, and we must accept it now. Thank ye fer comin to visit me. And come back with yer loot from the grey’s city!” The dwarf reached up to pat Max on his back, guiding him toward the door at the same time.

  After a few muttered goodbyes, Dalia led Max out of the shop, and the two of them crossed the square. Dalia leaned on Max a good bit, her legs slightly unsteady. Max didn’t feel drunk, just pleasantly warm and fuzzy inside.

  They stopped at his favorite bakery again, where Max spent a full gold coin this time. He filled four inventory slots with tasty treats, and two more with freshly baked bread, light and dark.

  They didn’t speak much on the way back to the apprentice mess hall, where they ate large chunks of roast boar with potatoes and gravy. The hall was abuzz with talk of the attack launching the next morning. At the end of the meal, Dalia burped happily, got to her feet and said, “If we don’t leave now, ye’ll have to carry me to yer room again.”

  It was a short walk back to his quarters, and Dalia practically fell into the bed. “Wake me up at five bells, and we’ll get down to the staging area in time fer the muster.” She rolled over, and was snoring in less than five minutes.

  Max lay on his makeshift bed on the floor, studying the steel bow while waiting for Dalia to sleep. As soon as the snoring began, he spoke quietly to Red. “I had some skill in archery in my past life. Does that mean I’ll be able to use this bow here?”

  “I don’t know.” Red shook her head. “I suspect that at the very least it will help you acquire the skill quickly. And Marksmanship is among your racial gifts. The only way to know is to try using the bow.”

  “Alright, I’ll try to find a place to shoot it before we leave in the morning.” He put the bow away. “Back to o
ur earlier conversation. Before I start to assign my free attribute points, is there anything else I should know?”

  “Yes. It seems that you are receiving two extra points with each level. They are not free points, they’re being assigned to Constitution and Strength automatically. It seems the gods, or the Valkyries, have ordained that you will be extremely strong and hard to kill.”

  “This isn’t normal?” Max remembered a few games where his primary stat got an automatic boost with each level.

  “It is not. But then, nothing about you is normal, Max. So I would suggest that you not put any free points into either of those attributes. As you’re about to see, they’re leveling up quite nicely on their own.” She paused. “Since you’ve chosen to try the bow, I would suggest a few points in Agility and Dexterity. And if you plan to try healing, then you’ll need to add some points to Wisdom and Intelligence.”

  Max pulled up his status sheet, and his eyes bulged at what he saw. “I’m level nine!” he whisper-shouted.

  “You and the Darkholm dwarves killed a lot of grey dwarves. Dalia was a little low on her estimate. Based on your combat logs, you and your comrades took down just over two hundred of the enemy, and you personally injured or killed one hundred and thirty of them. So you were awarded a great deal of experience.” She paused, her eyes unfocused. “And you’re not done yet. Check your quest log.”

  Max did as he was told, and thought quests. When the screen popped up, more notifications appeared. Both of his defense quests from the night before, Defend the City and Hold, and Hold! changed to quest complete status. More experience rained down upon him, and the sound of coins clinking registered as two hundred more gold dropped into his inventory.

  Your reputation with the Darkholm Dwarves has increased to Honored.

  Level up! You are now a Level 10 Chimera.