Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  Max thanked the innkeeper and closed the door, stripping down and climbing into the tub. Letting go of the stress and pain of the last several days, he barely stayed awake long enough to fill the tub and turn the water off before drifting off to sleep.

  He woke up three hours later to discover the sun was low in the sky. Quickly scrubbing himself in the now tepid water, he rinsed off and dressed himself in a spare set of clothes. Ringing the bell, he bundled up his dirty clothes and set them on the floor near the door. A minute or so later a polite knock sounded at the door. “Come in, please.” Max waited for a chambermaid to open the door. Before she could speak, he pointed to the clothes. “Do you have a laundry service that could have those cleaned by morning?”

  “Of course, Chimera King.” The chambermaid quickly gathered up the clothing, politely pretending not to notice the bloodstains, grime, and smell. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you.” He tossed her a gold coin. “I’ll be retiring for the evening. Please see that I’m not disturbed by anyone other than my companions, Gr’tok, or Lo’tang.”

  She bobbed her head. “You are the only guests on this floor, per Gr’tok’s request. There are guards on the stairs below. No one will disturb your rest, Chimera King.”

  Max turned his head so she wouldn’t see him roll his eyes. “Thank you, good night.” He heard the door close as he stepped to the bed and sat down. It was quite comfortable, and solid, being built to orcish specifications. Feeling tired, he got up again with a sigh, walked over to lock the door, then collapsed onto the mattress. For the first time since his rebirth, he slept on a bed that was long enough to accommodate his frame.

  *****

  Max woke when the rising sun’s light angled through his window and struck him in the face. Groaning, he rolled off the bed and did a few stretches. Sleeping on a soft bed had its disadvantages. Rubbing his belly and thinking about breakfast, he debated whether to ring for room service. He shook his head, not comfortable with a maid having to run up to the third floor, take his order, run back down, then repeat the whole process to bring his food, and again to clear it away when he was done.

  Opening his door, he was pleased to find clean and neatly pressed clothes stacked upon a white linen towel on the floor. He quickly stored the clothes in his inventory, tossing the towel onto the bed as he left the room. There were four guards on the stairs, two at the top, two at the second floor landing. They stepped aside and saluted as he passed, and he gave them a friendly nod and smile.

  When he reached the ground floor and the inn’s dining area, he found Gr’tok and Lo’tang sitting with Smitty, having breakfast. Joining them at the long table, he motioned for them to sit when they all began to rise. “Please, no formalities at breakfast.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “Smells good.” A waitress came hustling over, placing a mug of ale in front of Max almost as soon as he’d set his butt in the chair. “What can I bring you, Chimera King?”

  “Same as everyone else is having.” Max replied, eyeing what looked like scrambled eggs and sausage links. “With some warm bread and honey, please.” The waitress practically flew back to the kitchen to retrieve his food.

  Lo’tang reached across the table and set a ring in front of Max. “Your companion. His body was cleaned, as were his garments and armor. We thought you might like to take him back to Darkholm for his family to bury.” He waited for Max to nod, then added, “We included the bodies of the necromancer’s minions, though I’m afraid there was not much we could do for them. At least some of them will be recognizable to their families.”

  “Thank you, on behalf of myself and those families. This was very considerate of you.” Talking about the dwarves had him searching the room, then looking up at the stairs. “Have you seen Dalia this morning?”

  Smitty looked down at his hands. “Her room was next to mine. I could hear her crying until I fell asleep.”

  Max noticed something different about Smitty, but couldn’t quite place it. Finally it dawned on him. The corporal was wearing matching green leather armor over his whole body. Seeing Max staring, Smitty nodded. “They delivered my prize to me last night around supper time.” His voice got quiet. “Dalia’s too.”

  Max was worried about their friend, but decided to give her a little more time. While they waited, he asked Gr’tok about the upcoming trip. “Were you able to choose thirty more warriors?”

  Gr’tok nodded. “Most from my own command. Along with a few experienced sergeants from the training barracks, and their families.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Also, though we did not discuss it yesterday, I reached out to an orc I know. A retired mine foreman. I noticed the mine inside your circle on the map, and thought you might want miners to work it for you.”

  Max had a moment where he saw and heard Battleaxe snort, saying “Bah! Ye need dwarves fer a decent mine!” Shaking his head over the vision of his missing friend, he placed his hands flat on the table and took a deep breath.

  “That was good thinking, Gr’tok. We’ll leave a few people at the way station, which is also a farm, and a couple of hunters to bring in meat. Can we… can we purchase some livestock to take with us?” Max didn’t specify, realizing he wasn’t sure what livestock even looked like on a world where horses were vicious carnivores.

  “Already arranged, along with more mounts, extra wagons for transporting crops and ore, and a month’s supply of food for one hundred families. Mostly meat, fruit, and flour for making bread.” Gr’tok looked uncomfortable.

  “What’s wrong, commander?”

  “I am afraid I spent nearly two thousand gold on your behalf, Chim… eh, sire. I will be happy to absorb the cost of any expenditures you do not agree with.”

  “Max didn’t understand at first, then chuckled. “You got mounts, livestock, wagons, and supplies for several hundred people for two thousand gold… and you expected me to be upset?” Max started to just hand over two thousand gold to reimburse the commander, then paused. “I suppose as a new kingdom we should begin keeping track of these things. Creating records, hiring accountants, and such. Do you have receipts for all of these purchases?”

  Gr’tok nodded, grinning. Soldiers were always accountable for tracking their supplies and expenditures, as well as finding creative ways to acquire what was needed. He handed over a stack of small papers of various colors. “All told, nineteen hundred and thirty gold.”

  Max looked through the receipts. The commander was very thorough, and apparently a good negotiator. Stormhaven was now the proud owner of nine wagons with corresponding teams of oxen, dozens of barrels and crates of food, twenty kegs of ale, a dozen water barrels, twenty Ja’kang mounts with saddles to supplement the ten they’d brought with them to the city, along with assorted tools, lanterns, ropes, harness, and sundry gear they were likely to need.

  The table went quiet as Max was finishing his review, and he looked up to see the others staring at the stairs. Dalia was making her way down, her eyes sunken and face pale. Without a word they made room for her at the table, and Smitty pulled out her chair for her. When they were all seated again, Dalia quietly ordered breakfast from the waitress who was just delivering Max’s meal.

  As soon as the waitress departed, Dalia looked down at her hands, which were folded on the table. Lifting them, she revealed a grey, smoking crystal about two inches wide and four inches long.

  “This be Zrebnightlingrir. The crystal that holds his soul. May he burn in torment for all time.”

  The orcs around the table growled their agreement, thumping the table. Max was more concerned about Dalia than the defeated necromancer. “Dalia, you don’t look well. We can stay for another night if you need some time. We all miss Battleaxe, but you were closer to him…” Max broke off as she shook her head.

  “Aye, I do miss the grumpy old scout. He gave his own life to protect us, and will be honored among our people, most of all meself.” She sighed. “Ye have no way to have known this, but the necromancer,
he were kin to me. A cousin. And one o’ the young ones he sacrificed was me own wee sister.”

  Max and the others leaned back in their chairs, none of them having a response to her words. Finally Max mumbled, “Dalia, I’m so sorry.”

  “Me entire family swore a blood oath to kill him, should we find him. It be a matter of honor, as he shamed our family, our clan. All I need do to finish him fer good be to smash this cursed thing.” She looked down at it, more tears streaming down her face.

  Smitty, being a gamer used to strange magics and wild plot twists, was the first to realize her dilemma. “That’s the crystal he used in the ritual to prolong his life. The crystal created when he stole your sister’s soul.” Max took in a sharp breath as Dalia simply nodded, head down and eyes still on the crystal in front of her.

  Lo’tang cursed quietly to himself, then addressed Dalia. “You have sworn to destroy the lich, but in doing so, you fear you will destroy the life energy of your sister.”

  Dalia broke down and sobbed, lifting her hands to cover her face. Smitty moved to comfort her, kneeling next to her chair and putting a supportive arm around her shoulder. He looked up at Max and the others, a helpless expression on his face. The others didn’t have any solutions to offer, either.

  After a minute or so, Dalia took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face. “I have tried. All night, I have tried to find the courage to destroy this thing. It must be done, and I know it. The cursed lich stole me sister’s life energy, not her actual soul, so I know she ain’t alive or aware inside there. And I’ve said me goodbyes to her. But each time I raise me weapon to destroy it, I see her sweet face.”

  Smitty spoke quietly, still comforting the dwarfess. “Maybe that’s a sign. A sign that now is not the time. The lich is vanquished, defeated. You control the crystal, so he’s not going anywhere. I say take the crystal home, let your family decide when and how to deal with it. Give them some closure as well.”

  Dalia raised her head, meeting Smitty’s gaze. “Ye think?”

  As Smitty nodded, Gr’tok spoke quietly. “You need not bear that burden alone. That is what clans are for. I believe Smitty is right. Were I the head of your clan, I would want the crystal delivered to me.”

  Dalia considered for a moment, then sniffed loudly and straightened her spine. Raising her head, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Aye, thank ye. All of ye.” She smiled at each of them around the table, then at the waitress who arrived with her food. “I’ll take the murderin’ bastard back to me family.” She gave Smitty a quick peck on the cheek before he got to his feet, blushing.

  Dalia quietly dug into her food, and Max did the same after asking Gr’tok what time their caravan would be ready to leave.

  “An hour, maybe less. The families are gathering, but it took some time for those without wagons to purchase one and load it.”

  Max looked down at the receipts on the table. “We have the wagons you purchased. If any of the families don’t have room for their items, we can load them into ours.”

  Gr’tok shook his head. “They will manage. And your wagons are already mostly full of supplies and gear. The families can sell their extra possessions, or leave them with others and return for them later, now that peace is established.”

  Feeling good about the upcoming migration, Max focused on his food while the others discussed various details. He glanced at Dalia several times, still worried about her. She was quietly eating her food, no longer crying. He took that as a good sign.

  An hour later Max was once again mounted upon Pokey, his faithful steed. He rode out the city’s northern gate at the head of a column of wagons that reminded him of an old west film. Including his new wagons, there were forty five in the caravan. Not all of the soldiers and miners had families to bring, and all of their possessions fit in storage rings or packs on their mounts. Even the families kept much of their belongings in rings, reserving the wagons for large items like chairs, beds, and other bulky pieces. It seemed that nearly all the citizens had inventory rings, though most only held ten or twenty items.

  Dalia had made a quick stop at an alchemist’s shop, purchasing much-needed equipment. Max had handed her a bag with two thousand gold after breakfast, then handed Smitty one, too. “Your share of my winnings. I’d give you more, but I need to equip an entire city…” Both of them had thanked him, not having expected to receive any of it.

  When she returned from the shop, she gave Max one hundred empty vials, as well as an ornate box the size of a footlocker. Curious, Max opened it and found a mobile alchemist’s lab, including an alembic, tubing, funnels, a measuring cup, stir sticks made of both glass and wood, various sized glass bottles and beakers, mortar and pestle, even a small stove and cauldron with a metal stand and pot hanger. “I be carryin’ five hundred more vials meself, and a lab o’ me own. We can stop and gather more o’ the potent plants on the way home.” Max was happy to see that she actually smiled at him as she spoke about making more potions.

  Max had done a little shopping as well, finding a butcher and purchasing tremendous quantities of meat, then stopping at a stall to purchase bags of spices, both those that he recognized and had recipes for, and new ones that smelled or tasted interesting. He planned to cook, and experiment, in the evenings during their trip. With oxen pulling the wagons, it would take several days to return to Darkholm. He also raided two bakeries, nearly emptying both, though their fare was not as tasty as his favorite shop in Darkholm.

  The guards at the gate stood at attention and saluted Max as he passed through, Dalia and Smitty on their mounts right behind him. They were followed by Gr’tok and Lo’tang and ten of the arena guards who had joined them. The remaining ten were a quarter mile back, acting as rear guard for the long caravan. All along the length of the train the thirty warriors that Gr’tok had hired were spread out, watching their flanks.

  The day’s trip was mostly uneventful. Smitty and half a dozen other orcs ventured out into the forest and fields on either side of the caravan, hunting wild game for the evening meal. The oxen kept a slow but steady pace, so by the time the sun neared the horizon, they’d only gone about twenty miles.

  Gr’tok called for a halt, and the wagons pulled off the trail into a wide open field, forming two concentric rings. Max was impressed by how quickly the orcs set up camp. In less than an hour, wood was gathered, fires started in the space between the two rings of wagons, and shelters were set up. Some were actual tents, dome-shaped and made of oiled canvas. Others were simple tarps attached to the sides of wagons on one side, and two poles on the other. Some looked to the clear sky and didn’t bother with shelter, laying out bedrolls under the stars, or under their wagons.

  Max, Dalia, and Smitty spent a couple of hours making the circuit, introducing themselves to the new recruits, learning a little about each family. There were too many names and faces for Max to memorize, but Red appeared on his shoulder and seemed to be able to recall them all. So when Max passed by an orc he’d already met, Red supplied the name in his ear. The orcs, surprised that the Chimera King remembered them, puffed out their chests or smiled, feeling just a bit more important.

  At each campfire, the cook or family elder insisted on feeding Max and the others, and the best Max could do was limit himself to a small portion from each. By the time he arrived at the large tent that had been set up for him, he was so full that it made him sleepy. Several of the samples had been quite tasty, and he’d pleased the cooks by requesting a recipe or a lesson.

  Max had planned to spend some time learning about his alchemy equipment that evening. But with his full belly, and expecting an early start in the morning, he simply crawled into his bedroll set on the ground in the back corner of the tent. He took a moment to review his notifications, which he’d been ignoring since the battle with the lich.

  He’d leveled up to nineteen when the lich died, giving him three more assignable attribute points. After reviewing his stats, he decided to add all three to
Agility, which was lagging behind his other attributes. In his mind, his friend had died in that fight because Max had been unable to move, trapped by the lich’s spell. He suspected that had his Agility been higher, he might have recovered more quickly. Though that was just a gut feeling. He had no proof.

  There were several reputation notifications that raised his reputation with the orcs in the city to Revered, then one that dropped his reputation all the way down to Mistrusted in a single step. Max chuckled to himself, assuming that was the moment when he confronted the war leader. But the orcs in the city still seemed to respect and admire him, despite their leader’s obvious dislike. Max made a mental note to ask Ironhand about that.

  His loot notifications were interesting. From the lich’s minions he’d received several small soul crystals, fully charged. From the lich himself, there was a book, a hefty bag of coins, and his badly damaged robes. Max figured he’d sell the robes along with the rest of the trash. But the book caught his attention.

  Necromancer’s Grimoire

  Item Quality: Unique

  This book contains spells, observations, and experiments written down by Zrebnightlingrir during the years he studied the art of necromancy.

  The last item Max had received was a gold storage ring with an inscription on the inner surface that he couldn’t read. The loot notification just listed it as dimensional storage device, but he got a little more when he cast Examine on it.

  Zrebnightlingrir’s Ring

  Item Quality: Epic

  Storage Capacity: 500 units

  As Max held the ring and stared at it, a new screen popped up, showing him what was inside. It was mostly what looked like spell ingredients, body parts, miscellaneous supplies like paper, pen and ink, some torches that were highlighted with a green glow, a rope, a stack of firewood, that sort of thing. There were two nasty looking daggers that gave off a foul vibe. Max wasn’t even slightly tempted to touch them. He saw a staff that looked much like the one he’d destroyed in the fight, but again Max felt a greasy, unsettling vibe just looking at it.