Battleborne Book 2: Wrack and Ruin

by Dave Willmarth

  “King Max! Back fer more lessons, are ye?” The old dwarf greeted him with a smile. “And who’s this big fella ya bring’d with ye?” He looked up from his seated position, Dylan’s head being a good six feet above his.

  Max’s voice got quiet. “This is Dylan, a Battleborne like myself, and one of my soldiers on our old world. Dylan, this is Master Oakstone, who was kind enough to teach me how to make a cheese cutter.” He grinned as the old dwarf chuckled. “Could we speak… privately?”

  “O’course.” The dwarf grew serious, looking at the three apprentices who were working nearby. “Go get a meal! Take yer time. Ye got fifteen minutes!” Max rolled his eyes at the gruff old master’s orders. When they were alone, Max brought out one of the stone dragon scales from his inventory. He immediately had the old dwarf’s undivided attention.

  “As you may know, Master Steelbender is making me a few armor pieces from additional scales that I gave him.” He waited, and the dwarf nodded, looking slightly jealous. “Well, seeing as he’s busy, and you told me that your family were the best at crafting with these scales… I thought you might be willing to craft a chest piece for my extra-large friend here.”

  Oakstone’s eyes widened. He looked from the scale to the ogre, stroking his beard in thought. “That be no easy task, boy. And yer friend be strong enough to wear steel plate n not even feel the weight! Why commit such a valuable resource?” He looked up at Dylan again, “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Dylan, who was as surprised by the request as Oakstone, shook his head.

  Max grinned at them both. “Well, you see… we’re trying to find a mount for my friend here. He can’t ride a wagon in some of the places we’ll need to be going, and he’s not exactly fleet of foot, if you get my meaning. So I was thinking, assuming we find him an elephant or something to ride, the poor beast will suffer enough without the added weight of steel armor.”

  “Ha!” both dwarf and ogre laughed together. Dylan added, “Screw you, boss. You wish you were this sexy.” for good measure.

  Oakstone looked from one to the other, then pulled a knotted length of string from his pocket, followed by a notepad. He set the pad on a workbench, then motioned toward Dylan. “Sit down here, lad. I ain’t got no ladder to climb up there n measure ye.”

  Dylan did as instructed, sitting on the floor with his legs straight out in front of him. Oakstone still had to get on a stool to reach high enough to measure the ogre’s shoulders, but in short order the dwarf had taken the necessary measurements and written them down. He took a moment to convert the numbers into a rough sketch, then mumbled to himself as he did some calculations. He even took the scale from Max and measured it carefully, confirming first that they were all roughly the same size, jotting down notes around the sketch.

  “It’ll take thirty scales, and that’s only coverin’ the lad’s torso and shoulders, not the rest o’ his arms.”

  Max pulled out twenty nine more scales and handed them to the wide-eyed master. “Here you go! How long do you think it’ll take you?”

  “Bah! This be an art, boy!” The dwarf recovered quickly from his shock, reverting back to his natural gruff attitude. “Ye can’t rush an artist! A week, at least. Maybe ten days.”

  “That should be fine. Please send me a message when you’re ready for a fitting?” Max waited for the dwarf to nod, then pulled out ten more scales. “Can I assume this will be sufficient payment?”

  “No, lad. That be too much. It be an honor to work with these scales like me da and me grand before him. It might even allow me to level me own smithin’ skill, and that be rare for a Master o’ my level.” Oakstone pushed the stack of scales back toward Max.

  “Then, consider it payment for the work, and a bribe. I’d appreciate it if you’d take some time to come to Stormhaven and continue my training?” Max saw Dylan raise a hand next to him, and added, “My training, and Dylan’s?”

  Oakstone eyed the two tall visitors, then shook his head again. “There be plenty o’ dwarves already in yer city that could teach ye what ye need to know at yer low levels.”

  “True. But none of them have your sparkling personality!” Max winked at the dwarf.

  “Bwahaha! Alright, boy. Ye got yerself a bargain. But to even the scales, so to speak, I’ll do ye one better. I’ll have me clan build ye a private forge and stock it with the tools and supplies ye’ll need. Nothin’ fancy, mind ye. Just whatever scraps n old bits we’ve got layin’ around. It’ll serve ye well enough until ye reach Journeyman.”

  “Perfect!” Max handed over the scales. “If I’m not there when you arrive, Redmane can coordinate everything with you. We’ve got to go see King Ironhand now.”

  “Aye, about yer new portal. Congratulations, by the way. Every engineer in the city, and half the smiths, are dyin’ ta see yer metal gnome and his gadgets!”

  Max shook his head, unsurprised that word had spread so quickly. “Well, you have a personal invitation to visit anytime you like. I’ll warn you, though, Glitterspindle is crazy. Spent something like a thousand years talking to himself.”

  “Sounds interestin’!” Oakstone waved them away, already stashing away the scales and going back to his sketch.

  Max then led Dylan to meet Ironhand, by way of his favorite bakery, with a short stop at the kabob vender’s stall, during which they cleaned out the happy dwarf’s inventory. Max also purchased several more packets of spices, and traded a few that he’d obtained from the orc city.

  They made a quick stop at Fitchstone’s shop, where Max introduced Dylan. They spent a few minutes chatting, and the dwarf purchased some of the scrap loot that each of them were carrying. Max did his best to recruit the old dwarf, offering him a prime shop location in Stormhaven. Fitchstone declined, saying he was comfortable where he was. Bidding the dwarf a good day, they continued to the great hall.

  Upon arrival, Ironhand waved them forward as he stepped down off his throne and took a seat at one of the long tables, There was no way Dylan could sit at the table, even if the bench might have supported his weight. So he simply sat cross-legged on the floor next to Max.

  “I heard about yer new acquisition, and the portal. Congratulations, your highness!” the dwarf gave Max a mock bow.

  “Thank you, your majesty.” Max bowed his head in return. “At the very least, it’ll make the mine and surrounding territory easier to defend.”

  “Aye, that it will. And it’ll mean we get our cut o’ the ore from yer mine that much quicker!” Ironhand thumped the table, and a few of the attending elders laughed. The dwarf continued. “We’ve had nearly a hundred volunteers just this mornin, miners, engineers, even farmers, lookin’ to travel to yer new lands. Most are interested in the gnomes’ experiments. I told em all that they’d need yer permission to go pokin’ around out there.”

  “More miners and farmers are always welcome.” Max replied immediately. “As for the engineers, we could use a few more to help us build the tunnel to the ruins… and I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for a dozen or so to explore the ruins and see what they can learn from Mechamage Glitterspindle.”

  Max thought about it for a second. “Though, such an opportunity shouldn’t come for free, right? I mean, we only really appreciate knowledge that we have to struggle for. Master Oakstone taught me that!” He grinned at the dwarven king, who was developing a wide grin of his own, seeing what was coming.

  “So, if your engineers assist with whatever’s needed at my mine, and agree to help the gnome with some defenses for the temple, they’re welcome to, how did you put it? Poke around the ruins for… let’s say a month.”

  “Six months!” Ironhand shouted, thumping the table again as some of the elders leaned forward, curious as to how Max would fare this time.

  “My dear king, do you really want your best engineers away from their duties here in the city for six whole months? Six weeks!”

  “Who says I’m sending me best?” Ironhand winked at him. “Two months!”

  �
��You’ve got yourself a deal.” Max held out a hand, which Ironhand shook as the elders nodded their approval.

  “Well done, Max. Yer learnin’.” Ironhand looked proud of him. “Redmane tells me yer city is comin’ along nicely.”

  “Mostly due to his efforts, and those of the other councilors you loaned me. I feel like a monkey being trained to dance for a crowd.” Max bowed his head in embarrassment.

  “Aye, that be pretty accurate. But don’t feel bad, I were the same way once upon a time. When me da passed under the mountain, I were a simple warrior. I wanted nothin’ to do with runnin’ a kingdom, and thought I had another century or two o’ fightin’ and adventuring before I’d need ta learn.” He let out a long sigh. “Me sire died well, fightin’ them cursed greys, but it were too soon. So I had to learn much like yer doin now.”

  “Thanks for that. And for the teachers.” Max bowed his head, sincere this time.

  “Oh! I nearly forgot!” Ironhand looked over his shoulder and shouted a name, causing a young dwarf to jump to his feet and dash out a side door. “There be a visitor here, arrived an hour ago askin’ fer you. I knew you’d be comin here this morning, so I had em wait.”

  A moment later, a larger than average orc sporting scars over most of his body emerged from that same side door, led by the nervous young dwarf. The orc approached, then bowed twice, once to each king. “King Ironhand, thank you again for your hospitality. Chimera King, I have come with a message from my people. Well, some of my people. Are you willing to hear me?”

  “Please, sit.” Max motioned to an empty place on the bench. “What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Or’gral, and I once led the army for An’zalor’s predecessor. I retired when my War Chief was displaced by that coward. I watched you and your companions fight in the trials, and you fought with honor. Though I have always hated dwarves, having fought them all my life, your sergeant Battleaxe proved himself a courageous and loyal warrior. He died a good and honorable death.” Or’gral saluted with fist to chest, a gesture which all of the dwarves within earshot, including the king, returned.

  “I also witnessed the cowardly acts of An’zalor, as did thousands of my people. Were I thirty years younger, I would have challenged him and removed his head that day. Since then, he has grown paranoid and hostile to his own people. His shame, and the public nature of it, eats at his pride. Many of our people have come to me, wishing to leave the city. Some have already set off on their own in the dark of night, to establish new camps in the wilderness. Many others, including myself, wish to join you. We know that An’zalor has declared war upon you, Chimera King, and we wish to help you defeat him.”

  “How many are we talking about?” Max asked. His mind turned to his discussion just that morning with Redmane about feeding his people.

  “Nearly a thousand have come to me so far.” Or’gral replied. “But I’m sure thousands more would follow. Warriors, hunters, crafters, farmers, and their families.”

  Max let out a long, slow exhale. “That’s a lot. Your people are, of course, welcome. I think we could accommodate that first thousand right now, with a little extra effort. But my city is small, and our food supplies are limited. With your thousand people, especially the farmers and hunters, we might be able to grow our reserves enough to accept more in a few months…”

  The orc nodded, unsurprised. “That is as we expected. My people and I will be coming with only what we can store in our inventories, or carry on our backs. It is impossible to leave the city with wagons at this point, as An’zalor has closed the gates. Any caught emigrating are forced to fight in the trials. Another perversion of the holy rights that the coward shall have to answer for.”

  Ironhand asked, “Just out o’ curiosity, how many o’ yer people inhabit the city?”

  Or’gral looked thoughtful for a moment. “Several clans have gathered together over the years. I would estimate thirty thousand, maybe slightly more. Though, I believe what you’re asking is how many warriors would An’zalor be able to muster?” He grinned at Ironhand, who nodded. “With the losses he has already sustained at the hands of the Chimera King and your forces, An’zalor has maybe six thousand warriors in his standing army. With another two thousand retirees and others that could be called into service.”

  One of the elders whistled. Max, who was used to battles on Earth involving tens of thousands of troops on either side, gathered that on this world that was a significant force.

  “However.” The orc held up one finger. “If I know my people, half of that number might refuse to fight for the coward. Of the thousand who wish to come with me now, nearly two hundred would be defectors from the army. Many of them I trained myself as younglings.”

  Max grinned at this, his mind whirling. Psychological warfare was something for which he was well trained. If he could get half of his enemy’s army to desert, or even better, turn and fight against him… “You and your thousand are welcome, Or’gral. You’ll need to swear oaths of loyalty to Stormhaven, of course. Can you get them to the northern mine? Or do you need some assistance?”

  “We can get there.” The scarred veteran orc assured him. “We will need to take a roundabout path, and cover our tracks. Expect us in… a week.”

  “We’ll be ready and waiting for your arrival.” Max promised.

  Once the orc had been escorted out, and Max had concluded his business with Ironhand, he and Dylan excused themselves. As they left the great hall, he looked at his corporal. “Were you serious about learning magic?”

  “Totally serious, boss.” The ogre nodded his head.

  “In that case, come with me. I have to go apologize to a certain lady gnome for missing our dinner date. While we’re there, we’ll see what she has for you.”

  Chapter 8

  With the improvements to the mine and the ruins underway, his city growing in the capable hands of his councilors, and his lands reasonably protected for the moment, Max decided to focus on leveling up his group.

  The following morning they headed out into the tunnels and caverns surrounding Stormhaven. To begin with, they followed the same path they’d taken previously, hoping to quickly push past the mostly cleared areas near the city, into less explored places where they might find higher level monsters to fight.

  The kobolds, after raiding and completely depleting his wine cellar, had happily moved out into the tunnels to hunt any grey dwarves who’d fled the battle. In the process, they’d eliminated dozens of wandering monsters, which they added to their cookpots. Alongside any grey dwarves they captured, who were cooked alive. Karma was a bitch.

  As a result, in just a few hours Max, Dalia, Red, Smitty, and Dylan had moved five miles out from the city. Monsters were becoming more numerous, and harder to kill. They’d just defeated a level twenty four rock spider, and Max called for a rest while Smitty butchered the monster. Dalia had informed them that rock spider legs were even more tasty than spidorc meat. Also, the venom sack of a monster that size contained enough venom to make several batches of poison and cure potions.

  Smitty finished up his harvest, gaining two stacks, or forty pieces of rock spider leg meat, along with the mandibles and claws. Despite their name, the huge spiders weren’t covered in a hard exoskeleton. Instead, their tough skin was hairy, much like a tarantula. The short hairs acted as sensory organs, helping the spider to locate its prey by detecting the minute air fluctuations caused by motion. Creatures of the deep, dark underground lived in a harsh environment, and had developed many ways to survive.

  As the group got to their feet and prepared to move on, one of those creatures made its move. Smitty, who was in the rear of the group as usual, let out a pained grunt as something struck him from behind. Stunned, his hand went numb, causing him to drop his bow. Even as it clattered on the stone floor of the tunnel they were marching through, the others turned to see him drop to his knees.

  Behind him, one hand raised to deliver a killing blow to the back of Smitty’s neck, stood
a familiar monster.

  Stonetalon

  Level 25

  Health: 2,800/2,800

  Much like the creature Max had observed during his time in limbo reviewing possible race choices, this monster was intimidating. Seven feet tall, it was rail thin with corded muscle and sharp claws. Hairless, its eyes glowed slightly red, even in the greenish light of Dalia’s floating globe. Its skin was a dull, mottled black, much the same pigment as the surrounding stone, and seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. The monster flexed its raised claw once, then swung downward, intending to rip into and remove Smitty’s spine.

  Max roared at the stonetalon, distracting it slightly as its claws descended. Smitty’s life was saved by the combination of that distraction, and the fact that his still stunned body tipped and fell forward, causing the swiping claws to miss him by several inches. Unfortunately for him, his arms could not move to break his fall, so he impacted the floor face first, his nose crunching as his tusks scraped the stone.

  Max leapt forward, some primal reaction to the creature that shared part of his bloodline causing him to bare his fangs in challenge. The stonetalon responded in kind, forgetting about Smitty and grappling with Max. It tried to clutch Max to its chest, craning its neck forward in an attempt to savage his neck with its own, more prominent fangs. The claws of both its hands dug at the chainmail on Max’s back, unable to penetrate the dwarven steel.

  Though they were of similar size, Max’s troll blood and attribute investments made him much bulkier and stronger than the full-blood stonetalon. He placed his left hand under its chin and shoved it away from him, forcing its head to tilt backward and its neck to stretch. With his right hand, he punched it in the throat with as much strength as he could manage with his limited leverage.

  The stonetalon released him, both hands moving to grasp its wounded throat, wheezing for air as it took a step back. Max was about to hit it again when Dylan let out a roar behind him. Spinning around, he saw another Stonetalon smash against the tank’s new shield. They’d replaced his old one from the armory, and gotten him some decent leather armor as well, including an oversized pair of leather boots with steel toes. Leather wasn’t ideal for a tank, but it was the best they could manage in his size on short notice.