Battleborne Book 2: Wrack and Ruin

by Dave Willmarth

  The party relaxed, Smitty biting down on the forkful of potatoes that had frozen just inches from his open mouth. Red, having transferred her tiny vine chair to the center of the table, slapped a knee as she laughed. “Ya shoulda seen the looks on all yer faces!” Lysbane smiled widely, showing his mouthful of sharp fangs.

  “What?” Dalia asked after swallowing her bite of steak.

  “First magic, rites of parlay… you mortals are sooo easy!” Red winked at the dragon, who did laugh this time. “Our host wasn’t going to eat you lot. He spoke to me while Dalia was tappy-tappin on his hide, and though he was a bit grumpy about you disturbin’ his nap, he was more curious than angry. I suggested the whole ‘rite of parlay’ bit, a very old joke. And you all bought it!” Red giggled, snorting as she bent over, holding her belly with both hands.

  “Dammit, Red!” Max grumped at her, sorely tempted to reach out and flick her temporarily solid body out of that tiny chair.

  “Please, do not be angry, Max. I have so few opportunities for a little innocent fun.” Lysbane’s smile did not fade in the slightest. “No true harm was done, after all. And we’ve had some fun, haven’t we?”

  Max took a deep breath. Lysbane had recruited them all to help prepare the meal. He’d given them a new recipe for manticore steaks, and leveled up their cooking skill several times. During the prep, Lysbane had told them a story about a dragon who posed as a grumpy old wizard and lived among mortals, adventuring with them. All of them had forgotten for a short while that their lives were in danger.

  “Fair enough, you got us. Well played.” Max offered the dragon and the leprechaun a semi-sincere smile. Dylan just shook his head, while Smitty actually laughed.

  “That was an epic setup, little dudette. I was totally sure we were gonna end up as dragon grindage.”

  “If by grindage you mean food, you should know that we dragons rarely eat adventurers. First, you don’t taste all that good. And peeling you out of your armor is tedious. Not worth the effort, really.” Lysbane grinned at the orc. “However, these morsels have reminded my stomach that it has not been filled for quite some time. I must leave you all and go hunt for more substantial fare. I thank you for the company, and the tasty offerings.” He stood and waved his hand, and all of them felt a tingle. “I name you all friend. Should you encounter other dragons, they will sense my mark upon you. That is no guarantee of their behavior, but every little bit helps, no?”

  “Thank you, Lysbane.” Red stood up and bowed deeply, and the others quickly did the same. Another wave of the dragon’s hand, and their surroundings morphed back into the original cavern, and he returned to dragon form.

  “Before I forget, you have a deal regarding my cousin’s thick head.” All of their interfaces flashed up a new quest notification.

  Quest Received: Head Hunters

  Find the stone dragon’s severed head

  and return it to the Brightwood grave site.

  Reward: ??

  “I will hold off on seeking out my cousin’s mate and informing her of his fate. It has been a thousand years, what is one or two more? And since you’ve provided such an entertaining interlude, what favor might I do for you? Keep it small, Max. I’ll not be turning over my horde or smashing an enemy city for you.”

  Max grinned, trying to think quickly. “Umm… is there any chance you know of Nogroz, the dead king of the grey dwarves? He stole the heart from the mountain my new kingdom occupies, and we’d like to find out where it might be.”

  Lysbane’s eyes narrowed, and he snorted. “Yes, I remember. We dragons are attuned to our elements, and many of us felt the anguish of the mountain when that wicked little mite ripped the heart from it. I would gladly assist you in returning the heart to its rightful owner.” Lysbane closed his eyes for a moment. “Seems I remember there was a lich involved. Tricked the little shit into surrendering his soul along with the mountain’s. I cannot sense the undead, at least not from a great distance. But I can sense the dwarven horde that was buried with Nogroz” he grinned. “Dragons excel at locating treasure. Here, let me mark it for you.”

  Max’s interface ding’d, and the map appeared, a glowing golden triangle appearing not far from his city. “Thank you, Lysbane! That will save us a great deal of time.” He started to offer a hand to shake, then nervously withdrew it. “After this wonderful dinner, I’d be happy to host you for another at our home. It is the city formerly known as Nogroz. You are welcome anytime, though please… uhm, arrive in your human form? A dragon suddenly appearing at the gate might cause a stir.”

  “I know the place. Spent some time there before Nogroz cursed his people. They used to make a tasty mushroom sauce that they poured over nearly everything. Overdid it if you ask me.” The dragon pointed a foreclaw at the opening across the cavern, the one the party did not arrive through. “Alright, I’m off to hunt. That passage will take you to the surface, if that is your goal. Otherwise, I assume you can find your way back the way you came? Wonderful. It has been a pleasure to meet you all, and I wish you good luck!”

  Max and the others all received a buff.

  Luck of the Firstborn.

  A powerful being of an elder race has bestowed a blessing upon you.

  Your Luck attribute has been permanently increased by +5

  Lysbane twitched his tail, and a massive portal appeared inside the cavern. Through the portal Max and the others could see a wide expanse of rolling hills and green fields, covered in a massive herd of some sort of large shaggy beast that resembled a buffalo. The dragon launched himself through the portal, spreading his wings and soaring into the clear blue sky as the portal closed behind him.

  “Well, shall we proceed to the surface?” Max started walking toward the cavern’s exit.

  “Just like that?” Smitty stood still, looking at the spot where the portal had just closed. “Boss, I think we need to take a moment to appreciate that we totally just hung out and became bestest buds with a friggin dragon! I mean, it coulda just turned us into paste, or shiny black statues like Dylan there, and gone back to dreaming of dragon hotties.”

  Dalia nodded in agreement, not seeming all that steady on her feet. Max realized that he was feeling a bit of an adrenaline hangover himself. “Alright, let’s chill for a few minutes. But not too long. That meal gave us some pretty tasty buffs, but they’re only good for eight hours. No point in wasting them.”

  *****

  Three hours later Dylan blinked rapidly, covering his eyes to block the bright light of the sun. He’d just stepped out onto a ledge at the end of the tunnel they’d been following since leaving Lysbane’s lair. The others emerged behind him, making various noises from the stabbing pain of sunlight in their eyes after so long in the dark.

  The ledge was halfway up the side of a tall mountain. Max’s map told him they were facing west, and the sun was low in the sky, shining right in their faces. Once his eyes fully adjusted, Max could see the ocean several miles off in the distance.

  “Nice view.” Dylan commented, taking in the mountain range and the green valley below. Where to, boss?”

  Max was consulting his map. They were well north and west of Stormhaven and the outpost. Closer to the ocean than he had been so far. The mountain they stood upon was part of a chain that ran directly toward the ocean, a series of valleys down below that were separated by lower ridges and passes. The one directly below them was mostly forested, with a small lake maybe a mile across near one end. The area around the lake was clear meadow and sandy beach. “Since we’re here, let’s go explore that valley. It looks peaceful enough, and if nobody has claimed it, we’ll make it part of Stormhaven.”

  “Good plan.” Dylan looked down along the edge of the ledge for a minute, then stepped over to one side. “There’s a path here. Looks mostly clear, like someone has used it quite a bit.” He didn’t wait for orders, simply stepped down onto the path as he equipped his shield and held it facing outward toward the drop-off. The others followed quietly.
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br />   Halfway down the descent, Max heard a sound that immediately took him back to his first visit to the outpost. Looking up, he scanned the sky, then instinctively ducked down, hissing for the others to do the same.

  Circling high above was what he suspected was the very same bird that had nearly taken him from the top of the ridge that day. The ridge wasn’t that far away, as the roc flies…

  Roc Female

  Level 20

  Health: 5,000/5,000

  The gigantic bird wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it had seemed before, now that Max was a much higher level, and had friends with him. Still, he didn’t want any of them to be plucked from the mountainside and potentially dropped to their deaths. He had no doubt that the oversized predator with a twenty foot wingspan had the strength to lift even their ogre tank.

  “Stay still, all of you.” Max whispered loudly enough for them to hear. “Let’s hope that thing is triggered by motion, and not our body heat, or something.” He watched with the others as the roc banked to the left out over the valley, making a lazy circle that brought her directly over their heads for a moment. All of them breathed a sigh of relief as she continued on, riding a thermal that pushed up the mountain face, and disappeared over the ridge opposite theirs. Still, Max kept them in place for several minutes, making sure she didn’t circle back around. When they stood back up and got moving, Dylan set a faster pace than before.

  The trail reached the bottom of the rocky slope, transitioning into a well-worn dirt path that turned more sharply downslope and led into the forest. The party continued to follow their tank as he ducked a few low branches and scanned to their left and right. A hundred yards or so into the woods, the trail ended at an intersection. The perpendicular trail extended east and west from their position, and Dylan waited silently for Max to make the call.

  “The lake is west. As is the ocean. When I first got here, I had an idea about walking out till I reached the ocean, then following the shoreline until I found a port or a fishing village. We might as well try that out.”

  Dylan obediently turned west and followed the much wider path. This one was at least eight feet wide, and there was faded evidence of wagon tracks visible.

  “So much for this place being uninhabited, boss.” Smitty called from the back. “Looks like if you want this valley, we’ll have to conquer it!” His enthusiasm was evident in his tone.

  “How bout we find whomever lives here and try talking to them before we kill them all and drink from their skulls?” Max flashed the orc a grin, and got a thumbs-up in reply.

  “Drink from what?” Dalia looked disturbed.

  “Oh, sorry.” Smitty shrugged. “It’s a figure of speech. From a popular story about a bloodthirsty barbarian from our world. Max didn’t mean it literally.”

  “Your world is a strange and violent place, I think.” Dalia ventured as she walked behind Dylan. “I’m not sure I’d like it there.”

  “Well, there’s no magic, for one thing.” Dylan added. “So no magic healing. We depended on drugs, kind of like your potions, though not nearly as effective, and more mundane methods like bandages, surgeries, and stitches.”

  “That sounds horrible. Did many of your people die in battle?”

  All three of the former soldiers went silent. After a few steps, Dylan lowered his head and mumbled. “Too many. Way too many.”

  Dalia, sensing that she’d struck a nerve, changed the subject. “Speaking of potions, there are lots of useful herbs and ingredients in this forest. I’ve seen half a dozen already. And though this place doesn’t have the same magic boost as the battleground, these plants are mature and untouched. So the potency should be quite high. Do you mind if we pause now and again to harvest some of them?”

  “Not at all!” Max smiled at her. “Can’t hurt any of us to improve our flower picking skills. And good ingredients are never a waste of time. As your king, I declare the rest of the day to be flower day!”

  “Uh, boss?” Smitty called out from the rear. “Before you start pulling weeds n such, maybe check with these folks and make sure it’s okay?”

  They all turned toward Smitty at their rear, and Max stepped toward him. Off in the distance, maybe a quarter mile down the trail, they could just barely make out a pair of large boars pulling a wagon. Two beings sat atop the wagon, seemingly chatting with each other.

  “Do we take cover?” Dylan asked, glancing at the trees and brush on either side of the wide trail, not seeing anything that would easily hide his ogre bulk.

  “I don’t think so.” Max shook his head. “ They don’t seem aggressive, and there are only two of them. Let’s just wait for them to catch up, and introduce ourselves.

  Chapter 10

  It turned out there were many more than two of them. Behind the loaded wagon walked another dozen individuals, well armed and armored. Each of them, including the drivers, stood on average about six feet tall, with wide shoulders, thick muscles, and dark eyes. Their skin colors varied from pasty white to a slightly greenish hue. Some sported dwarf-like thick beards and moustaches, others were cleanshaven. All of them sported a set of lower jaw tusks, though some were more pronounced than others.

  Fortunately for Max and company, though the new arrivals quickly spread out from behind the wagon and bared their weapons, they did not take immediate aggressive action. Their leader, one of the two drivers, stopped the wagon a dozen or so paces from Max, then stood and called out. “Who’re ye and why d’ya be blockin’ our path?”

  Max held up a hand in greeting. “My name is Max Storm, King of the newly formed Stormhaven. My friends and I certainly don’t intend to block your path. We are simply exploring, and came across this valley. We were on our way to the lake, and spotted you approaching. I thought it only polite to wait and say hello.”

  There were some dark murmurs among the gathered fighters, and the one up top spat over the edge of the wagon. “A likely story. A king, you say? Just wanderin’ around out here in our valley? More likely scoutin’ fer an invasion!”

  Max shrugged. “I admit, upon first seeing the valley from above, I had hopes of claiming it for Stormhaven. It’s a beautiful place, and peaceful. But that was before I knew you folks owned it. I’ve no interest in war, my friend. I already have one with An’zalor the orc and his army, I don’t need another.”

  “Ye be at war with the orcs?” This came from a young looking fighter with bright red hair and beard standing near the wagon’s front wheel. He held a two-handed war hammer like he knew how to use it. “Ye got an orc in yer party with ya.”

  “I am at war, with some orcs. Not all orcs. In fact, some of An’zalor’s people have left his city and joined me as citizens of mine. Several hundred of them so far. As for Smitty, I trust with him my life.”

  There were more grumblings among the soldiers, and Max waited several long seconds before interrupting. “Might I ask your name?”

  The leader grimaced, but obliged. “I be An’dro Pickstone, leader o’ this convoy and elder o’ the Blooded Clan.” He stood slightly taller than the others, and his shoulders were wide enough to pull the wagon on his own if he chose.

  “Glad to meet you, An’dro Pickstone. Any chance your Blooded Clan is looking for trade partners? My city, and my kingdom, are growing quickly, and we need to purchase supplies of nearly every kind to keep up.”

  Pickstone leaned back slightly, surprised. “Ye… would trade with us?”

  “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?” Max smiled up at him, showing his fangs inadvertently. Grips tightened on weapons all around him.

  “Most won’t even speak to us, let alone trade.” Pickstone had seen Max’s fangs as well as any. “Some kind o’ mixed breed, are ya?”

  “I am. In fact, I’m a chimera, a being of four bloodlines in equal parts. Is that a problem for you?” Max thought he understood what was happening, and took another good look at the fighters in front of him. He flashed back to a conversation he’d had with Battleaxe the day they’d me
t.

  Pickstone stared at him for a moment, then sat down. “Ha! Lads, King Max here wants ta know if we have a problem with his bloodlines!” There were a few laughs, some whistles, and grunts. Some of the fighters even lowered their weapons and smiled.

  “No, King Max. We here o’ the Blooded all be like yerself. Though, not with such exotic blood as yer own. All of us be part dwarf, part orc, with varying degrees of either. Descendants o’ those who were shamed into exile after the wars, and those who’ve been born of mixed blood since. The sons n daughters of slaves, rape victims, and perverts, most claim. Commonly known as dworcs, we call ourselves Blooded for the names we’re called; half-blooded, mixed-blooded, weak-blooded. Despised by orcs and dwarves alike, we isolate ourselves up here and avoid them all.” His tone was bitter, and he spat again when he was through.

  “I see. That is… unfortunate.” Max could hear the pain in his voice, and wasn’t sure how to answer. Dalia took the initiative and stepped forward.

  “Me name’s Dalia, born and raised in Darkholm, though now I be a citizen of Stormhaven. I’ve heard tales o’ ye dworcs since I were a wee lass, and I freely admit that most were not kind in nature. Though none I’ve ever heard speak o’ ye held any malice toward ya, nor do they blame ye for the circumstances of yer birth. It were more… distrust of orcs in general, and suspicion o’ yer orc blood.” She held out a hand to indicate Max. “Since I’ve been with Max here, I’ve learned much about orcs. I’ve learned they be mostly honorable and loyal, honest and friendly enough, despite our long-held grievances. With a few exceptions, o’ course.”

  The others had gone quiet as she spoke, some nodding their heads as if in agreement. Though when she mentioned the honor of orcs, several growled. Max assumed that dworcs were most often created when orc males had their way with dwarven females, as he had trouble imagining a dwarf going after a female orc. Then again, one never knew…