by TJ Reynolds
Nervously, the first daldrim to speak took one brave step closer to Ban’s champion. The poor creature was a full two feet shorter and less than half the dalgard’s weight. Yet it showed enough courage to walk closer, bow its head, and give an answer. “Daldrim stay in tower. Daldrim always live here with great master. Will you be new great master?”
Despite knowing he should resist such vanities, Ban felt his ego swell somewhat. Yes, I suppose I could be considered a great master. I do try my best, after all.
And the daldrim needed a leader. Ban’s schedule was too cramped to take on any extra burden at the moment, so the position of great leader would have to go elsewhere.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t be a god though.
Ban reached out his hand and touched the top of the little daldrim’s bowed head. “You are the new great leader. Rise now, and may all other daldrim serve you faithfully.”
The creatures all looked equally confused, but the anointed leader stood up a little taller than before, a gleam of pride in its murky eyes.
Wanting to ensure the others accepted the new leader’s rule, Ban opened his palm and summoned a smaller version of the improved spear. “Take this spear. If anyone disobeys your command, I will kill them myself. I am master of entire keep. You are master of the daldrim. Understand?”
“I am little master. You are great master. I understand,” the daldrim warrior announced.
Good enough for me, Ban thought.
Considering the deed done, Ban gave his dalgard champion the order to return to the core room.
A much bolder voice announced, “Great master. I am Caw, little master of daldrim. Will you feast with us?”
Normally, any such request would seem enticing. Ban had so much to do, though, and he’d been waiting for a new dungeon for too long.
Yet when Caw’s eyes looked up into his own, he knew his fate was sealed.
After accepting the offer, Ban insisted that the daldrim choose a single floor in the keep they wished to call their own. Caw chose their current floor, the fourth down from the top. Ban informed Caw of the two females on the bottom floor.
As if he’d been a tyrant king for years, Caw ordered his two friends about. He sent one to bring all daldrim on the upper floors down to their new home. He sent the other to assist with the females.
While the daldrim went about their business of preparing a feast, boiling even more mushroom stew, Ban improved their quarters how he could.
There was plenty of space to house the daldrim, but there was little to no organization. Ban absorbed all of the soiled beds and piles of refuse they’d nested in, and replaced it all. This initial transformation sent the minions into a near panic. Thankfully, Caw had grown bold and was already shouting in his frantic tongue for peace.
Ban reserved a quarter of the floor for a huge sleeping area, stacking the beds atop one another to accommodate for a much larger population should the daldrim see fit to reproduce.
A small room was set aside for food, and Ban filled it with a variety of meat and produce. What the creatures would prefer, he had no idea. In fact, having been locked away and left to fend for themselves so long, Ban doubted they knew either.
When he’d finished with the pantry, Caw peeked his head inside and screamed. Then the two daldrim cooks were being properly ordered about, the other warrior having been promoted assisting Caw in his managerial duties.
Caw was a new and inexperienced leader, but it seemed he knew the importance of a good feast.
Finally, Ban formed two more rooms. The first was a long, narrow chamber that took up one wall of the floor. He opened up several windows along the side. The sun had gone down already, but the morning would bring such light and joy as the daldrim hadn’t seen in years.
Taking this creation a step further, Ban forged a balcony as well, extending their tiny domain.
He kept a high railing around the outside, but gave the daldrim a place to exist outside. In time, Ban might even teach them to hunt birds, then scatter grains to attract such prey. Training the simple-minded race to provide for themselves would take time, but the challenge was worthy.
Unsure what else to do, Ban formed large planters filled with soil. He wasn’t quite sure if he could come up with seeds the daldrim could sow, but that was a problem he could work out later.
For now, the little beasties could at the very least play in the pots of loose soil. It might be good for them considering they’d grown up in halls of dank stone.
Ban shifted his focus to a more vital concern.
While scanning the tower, Ban had noticed a series of irrigation tubes carved into the walls. Rain gathered on the roof drained down into the keep, and had miraculously, provided enough water for the daldrim to survive all these years. The cisterns tucked away on each floor were all dry but one.
Ban cleared the piping, cleaned the water contained within the system, and carved out the path of a smaller tube that led to the sunny room.
He could work on food later, but after he finished forming a sliding stone door, Ban considered the room and its attached balcony a success.
In the event of an invasion, the daldrim could hide out in the room. Ban hoped some of the warriors could be trained up enough to help out, but having the entire population eliminated in seconds wouldn’t do anyone any good at all.
The last chamber he kept huge and sprawling, making a ring of stools in one corner around an open fire pit. As a bit of flourish, Ban ordered his champion to walk over to the fire pit and hold out its huge hand.
Caw and the handful of daldrim present watched as Ban summoned a pile of wood in the pit. The clatter of fuel nearly doused the pitiful flame, but ultimately turned it into a rather generous bonfire.
There, now the dalgard can properly be considered a deity, Ban thought triumphantly.
The hours ticked by as the daldrim prepared for a feast the likes none had ever seen. Their efforts ranged from frantic to frozen with fear, but eventually, the event began.
Ban sat near the fire pit, his champion much too large to use one of the stools. A rough approximation of music began as a few of the daldrim rapped their knuckles on their new stools and a few others croaked and hummed.
The tune lacked the kind of lilt and spin that Ban so loved about Brintoshi music, but it was earthy and grounded.
Then, while the daldrim looked on, Ban’s champion consumed an incredible amount of food. He started with the mushroom soup, a concoction far less foul than he’d originally assumed.
After, Ban tore into the various dishes the daldrim had invented.
Jerky-stuffed apples turned out to be a favorite as did the grape-stuffed apples.
Lacking equipment to cook with and the knowledge to do so, the little creatures had done everything they could to transform the ingredients Ban had provided.
All in all, the daldrim had done a smashing job.
A gift was presented as the celebration died down. Wrapped in a grubby scrap of cloth, Ban discovered a necklace made of rusted nails, each twisted into a link.
The daldrim fell silent as he held it up. “This is a fine gift, Caw. Thank you,” Ban said, placing the necklace over his head.
Wanting to keep his divinity role alive a little longer, Ban summoned ten more improved spears, and gesturing, said, “These are for your warriors. May they keep you safe and strong. And for you, Master Caw.”
Reaching into his memory for some item that might act as a symbol of rule, Ban summoned a shirt, belt, and trousers for Caw.
Sized for Kai’s taller frame, the daldrim looked a bit absurd when he’d finally managed to pull the clothing into place. To Caw, however, the clothes must have seemed the peak of finery.
As his people cheered and squealed like a pack of half-starved dogs, Caw strutted around the fire. He almost fell once, but none bothered to notice.
Ban gave the command at last, and his dalgard champion made the long trip down to the core room.
Guiding the champion
wasn’t necessary.
So as soon as he’d given the command, Ban fled his champion’s mind and attacked the next task on his list.
He pushed his awareness all the way to the top of the tower. He’d already cleared out the broken furniture on the first floor, but now he absorbed the smashed gate. The mechanism boggled his mind with its complexity, but after absorbing the metal and wood it was made of, he knew how it functioned.
Ban summoned a new gate to take place of the old one, and he even improved on the previous design.
He was still too unpracticed to modify the machinery to much effect, but he strengthened the grain in the wooden planks, increased the carbon of the steel, and reinforced the interlocking structure in a thousand minute ways.
When he was done, the gate was stronger than ever.
Adding iron spikes to the front of the gate as well, Ban found the mechanism quite intimidating.
As a last thought, Ban opened slits in a few of the planks, allowing for defenders to fire projectiles at will.
Ban added a few more tricks to maximize his security.
The first was a simple trap that a minion could activate by tugging on a piece of rope. The rope would pull out a support, allowing a heavy pile of stones to fall down on the bridge. The force would be sufficient to scatter any attackers while still keeping the bridge intact.
His second trap made the Earth Core’s heart fill with violent joy.
Ban carefully cut out deep lines in the bridge itself. He fashioned a hinge, and even tested it a few times. He considered using houndzards or vermillion drakes, but Ban could almost guarantee that only humans would be attacking his keep.
So, he summoned a dozen dalgard minions, each wearing heavy armor. None were champions, so rather than seven and a half feet of terrifying muscle, each minion was close to six foot.
They were all but perfect approximations of human warriors.
All three test runs were successful.
All three test runs ended with the thin strip of stone cracking under the weight of the dalgard horde, letting the section of bridge fall away.
The dalgard minions would tumble away into the chasm until Ban absorbed them again.
This trap was simple, clean, and efficient. And whoever was fool enough to try them would find a dozen or more of their fighters slipping away into the abyss.
The only trick had been modifying the strip of stone holding the platform in place. It had to be strong enough to hold at least ten soldiers. Then, when twelve or fifteen crowded together, the mechanism would trigger predictably.
The bridge spanning the gap to the meadow around the Sunken Keep had a sturdy foundation. It only took a few minutes to replace the loose or lost stones, and of course, Ban made some modifications here as well.
He waited to surprise Kai with the results, but when he finished, he knew the young dragon would be ecstatic.
Only one minion seemed fitting for such a dramatic location though.
Ban dipped into his interface and summoned not one but six gargats.
Each beast appeared in thin air, a shimmering veil of ether-blue bursting around their forms. He sent five of them off into the sky. They would fly around indefinitely until he ordered them to do otherwise.
If anyone came up their little canyon, they’d see a cloud of winged minions, waiting to attack.
They wouldn’t be the only threat.
The sixth gargat flew up and rested on the peak of the tower’s roof. Ban removed the brass spike that had been there before, and in its place fixed a simple, iron bar.
The gargat wrapped its clawed toes around the bar and faced the bridge’s entrance. And there it would wait, always standing vigil, until the day its strength would be called upon.
And before Ban worked his magic in the lower floors of his tower, he summoned a few more of his old favorites to hide on the first floor of their tower.
Having some degree of protection in place, Ban felt free to pursue his other ambitions without worry.
19
Honors and Improvements
Kai
The threads of a meandering song wove through Kai’s blurry mind. He rolled onto his back and sighed.
His bed was warm and soft, the straw-stuffed mattress clean and dungeon-summoned-new. The room he slept in was warm, and a large fire continued to crackle away in the corner. There wasn’t a single detail missing from this idyllic setting.
But Ban’s unskilled singing had forced Kai from his slumber, and now he lay staring up at the ceiling in the core room of the Sunken Keep.
Rakes go up, ho!
Rakes go down low.
Ask the farmer, he will know.
When to rake the southern field.
When to take the row.
Kai maintained that fuzzy layer of comfort that remains for a short time after waking. The song reminded him of his aunt and uncle, the life he’d had on their farm. It brought back the barn dances, drinking mulled cider and sitting about on bales of hay as the night refused to die.
He curled his toes in a stretch and listened as Ban stammered on.
Rakes go up, ho!
Rakes go down low.
Ask the wife, she will sigh.
“Far too long since summer’s yield.
It’s time to hold me thigh.”
Ban completed the song so unselfconsciously that Kai was convinced the Earth Core had no notion of its meaning. This realization brought a chuckle to Kai’s lips.
You’ve been cursed with a terrible voice, Ban. Never quit your life as an Earth Core. You’d be out of a job and begging for coppers within the month.
The song cut off sharply. How dare you? My voice isn’t even audible. I’m just think singing… and yet you still mock me?
Kai sat up laughing. I’m sorry, Ban. I’ll try to be dishonest from now on.
Wake up with a belly full of salt and snark, did you? I suppose I won’t have to give you a tour of my improvements then. And I doubt you’re interested to know I’ve repaired and cleaned your armor and glaive.
The young dragon shook his head. Thank you, Ban. What would I do without you?
You’d fall off a cliff most like, or else you’d— Ban’s voice cut off mid sentence, and Kai heard the Earth Core approximate a mental gasp. Kai! Your eyes! They have returned to normal!
Kai touched his face and blinked. The only real difference he could notice was that the interior of the core room appeared dim. It didn’t hurt when they shifted back, so I don’t mind. Ban, have you considered trying to fashion a looking glass? I wouldn’t mind being able to see my reflection now and again.
Good idea. Then perhaps you could do something about that unruly hair for a change.
The two continued their banter through Kai’s morning ablutions and through breakfast as well. They were equally enthusiastic in this contest of wits, which was driven along by an excess of spirits rather than resentment.
Kai’s body felt spry and alive, the consequence of a full night’s sleep no doubt. But Ban was the host who never stopped thinking about how his guests’ lives might improve.
Kai had fallen asleep in his small clothes but woke to find a new set laid out for him. His boots alone hadn’t been replaced, in part because Kai had explained how long it took to wear in a new pair. His trousers, shirt, and cloak were all clean and folded in a pile next to him though.
As he dressed, Kai discovered a tiny crest sewn into each. It was the three waterfalls swirling around a tower.
Ban had claimed the Sunken Keep crest for his own.
Having the luxury of immediate safety and rest on his side, Kai couldn’t wait to start his day.
If the choice were left to Ban, Kai would have immediately gone on a long tour of the keep. Kai told his friend to be patient a bit longer. “I haven’t distributed my Attribute points yet. I gained a level during our fight with the daldrim. Would be foolish not to spend the points while I can.”
Very well, Ban replied, his voice sounding g
ruff and childish in Kai’s head. I do have one more task that might make for a more dramatic tour. I’m almost done with it, so please, don’t take too long.
Kai agreed he wouldn’t, then brought up his EI.
After Kai and Rhona had defeated the Basilisk Terrinore, Kai had gained considerable Progression. The fights with the elekine, the cat dog hybrids, and the daldrim had finished his Progression, and he was now Golden 2.
Having unlocked three new Attribute Points made Kai consider his needs once more.
Intelligence was his strongest Attribute, and for now, especially considering the power boost his Elemental Affinity unlocked, he decided to focus on his lesser Attributes.
Charisma and Wisdom were his lowest at 11 each, and Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution were all locked at 12.
He selected one point in both Wisdom and Charisma, then added his third and final point to Constitution.
As he finalized his decision, Kai was overtaken with the rush of ether as his body and mind transformed.
Charisma was a strange quality, and as the improved Attribute took hold, all Kai could distinguish was an increase in his confidence. His spirit somehow felt lighter, less troubled or weighed down.
Wisdom had a more cognitive effect. Suddenly, Kai felt certain he could have handled a few of his tactical decisions differently. It didn’t produce a feeling of regret or guilt, but Kai was determined to make more thorough plans the next time he ventured off into danger.
For the first time in his life, Kai experienced his Constitution increasing.
Though each Attribute instigated its own sensations, Constitution was by far the most profound.
Kai’s body shifted. His muscles remained strong, yet his body felt more relaxed and restful. He breathed in deep, his lungs taking in more air than ever before. Even the follicles of hair in his scalp seemed to vibrate with health.
Kai stood and stretched his renewed body. He yearned to sprint and test the power of his legs. He wanted to try his skill at the glaive once more, certain he would perform like never before.