* That’s the representation of the Dungeon Visitor’s Bond I had to create with you. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t have any adverse effects…I hope. *
“You hope?! What, you haven’t done this before?” Kelerim asked, rubbing at his mark with his hands as if he was trying to rub it off.
* Nope. You’re the first official visitor I’ve had that wasn’t trying to overtly destroy me, so I had to experiment on you to get the bond to work in the first place. I wasn’t expecting that tattoo to happen, though – and especially not that big. I apologize for the mark, but there wasn’t anything else I could do. *
Kelerim rubbed ineffectually at his new tattoo for another moment or two, before he gave a big sigh and put his hands down. He must’ve heard the sincerity in her voice, because he said, “It’s ok. I appreciate what you did for me, and if this is the price I have to pay for my life, I’d be willing to give it again.” He paused for a moment, before continuing. “Thank you for everything, actually. I’ve never really had someone do something nice for me before, without looking for something in return…unless you’re planning on using me for something?” he asked cautiously.
* Now that you mention it…No, I’m just kidding. Like I said, you’re free to go home if you want, I’m not going to keep you here against your will. The only thing I ask is that you don’t mention my presence, as I like my privacy and I don’t want to be invaded by people trying to kill me every other day. *
Kelerim’s face fell at her statement for some reason, and he sat back down. “I…don’t have any home to go back to.” In a monotone voice, the half-Orc/half-Dwarf started telling Sandra his life story, which was full of disheartening hardships and unfairness. He had been essentially abandoned by both his races and didn’t have anything else to fall back on.
“…and I just don’t understand why Razochek chased me out of the village. I know he doesn’t like me, but I was a decent Blacksmith and could churn out iron swords faster than almost any other Orc. The way it’s going, there won’t be anyone left that knows how to forge a knife in a few years, let alone a sword.”
* What do you mean by that? *
“What? Oh, I forgot that, as a former Human, you wouldn’t know. Orcs look down on anyone that primarily does any crafting work, as they value fighters and Warriors more than anything. As a result, fewer and fewer of them have any desire to take up things like Blacksmithing, which means that the quality and quantity of iron swords that are made has diminished greatly over the last few decades. The blasted dungeons – no offense – nearby are expanding farther and farther into Orcrim, and there are few that can stand up to them for long, especially when the shoddy work put out by other Blacksmiths breaks in their hands.”
* Why don’t you make steel swords and Enchant them for strength then? That way, they would last hundreds of times longer and help the…warbands?...push the dungeons back. *
“I’m sure they would if we could, but as far as I know, the secret of making steel has been lost to the Orcs. I’ve heard that a few of the most powerful Orcish families have some older steel weapons in their possession, but they are few and far between,” Kelerim replied, before rummaging in his pants pocket, looking for something. After a few seconds, he pulled out a small, polished Steel mirror-like object and held it up. “My mother’s family gave this to me before I left, and it’s the only piece of Steel I’ve seen up close. It’s also the only thing I have to remember her by, which is why I’ve kept it nearby all these years and refused to sell it.”
He stared at the mirror for almost a minute, before continuing. “As for Enchanting, I’ve heard of a few Orcs that can do some minor Enchantments, but they are rare as well. I’ve never personally met anyone who could do it or seen any Enchantments in person; I honestly barely even know what they are.”
Sandra felt bad for Kelerim; he sounded like he had a hard life living amongst the Orcs, but it wasn’t his fault. She wanted to blame the entire race for his misfortunes, but she had felt some of the same ridicule and shunning in her previous life because of her deformed, claw-like hands. Fortunately for her, she had her father to help get her through, but the beaten-down man before her didn’t have the same support that she had.
The Orcs were just…different to what she was used to as a Human, but it didn’t necessarily mean that they were wrong in their thinking. The way they treated Kelerim was wrong in her opinion, but their society as a whole had survived this long because it worked for them. Something along the line must’ve broken down, however, and it was just as Winxa had said: the Orcs, along with the other nearby races, were slowly getting to the point where they would be wiped out by the nearby dungeons unless something was done to help them.
But what could she do to help?
Sandra couldn’t believe she even thought about helping the Orcs after hearing what they did to Kelerim, but she had trouble blaming the entire race. Regardless of how they treated him, she felt a sudden urge to lend aid to the Orcish people – and to the other beleaguered races as well. She wasn’t sure how she could help, but the need to do something was there. I wonder…is this part of the Creator’s plan?
She didn’t realize she had projected this thought out, but both Winxa and Kelerim responded almost in unison, “What plan?” She was just glad that she had learned how to direct her thoughts toward one or the other, because having a simultaneous conversation with both at the same time would get highly confusing. The Dungeon Fairy was hanging out in Sandra’s Home room, but the Core had been updating her on the details of Kelerim’s “visit”.
* I think I may have a way to help the Orcs, as well as the other nearby races – I just haven’t completely figured it out yet. It seems crazy, I know, but it seems…right. Like it’s my purpose for being here in the first place, even though it’s still a guess on my part. *
Sandra projected that thought out to both individuals for their benefit, before turning her attention back to Kelerim. She wasn’t intentionally trying to ignore Winxa, but she didn’t want to give the Fairy any cause to try to add her opinion, because of the possible consequences of inadvertently giving advice.
“How in the world could you help the Orcs? And why would you – a dungeon, after all – help them in the first place?” Kelerim asked with all sincerity.
* There are circumstances about my appearance in this location that I won’t go into right now, but suffice it to say, I have reason to believe that my presence here may be part of a bigger plan. And the fact that I received a…reward of sorts…for bonding you to the dungeon only proves my theory more. I think I was put here to help the races effectively fight against the dungeons, so that they can survive and thrive like they used to. There are other races out there, like the Humans, that have actually gotten better as a result of the dungeons nearby, but something…I guess the best way to say it is that a mistake was made that the Creator is trying to fix. And I think I am that fix.”
“I don’t get it. I admit, the ‘monsters’ I have seen so far appear plenty powerful, but I doubt that they alone will be able to beat back the thousands of other dungeon monsters roaming around. Unless you have a massive army hiding in here somewhere?” Kelerim asked, still confused.
* My constructs are unique, I do have to say, but they aren’t what I meant. My strength lies elsewhere; I’m not an expert in fighting, I’d never even killed anything before I became a Dungeon Core, and the only monster or wild beast I’ve seen larger than a dog was the Bearlings that attacked two weeks ago. Despite that, I have something that is quite different from the other dungeons in the world – knowledge. And it’s that knowledge that can help the Orcs, as well as the other races in danger of extinction.
* As you may have guessed by now, I’m not an ordinary dungeon – I’m a Crafter’s Dungeon. *
Chapter 33
“So where do I fit into all of this?” Kelerim asked, curious as to his role in everything she had just said.
He had to admit that he was a little on the fence w
hen it came to the “rescue” of the Orcish race. On the one hand, they had taken him in when he was exiled from the Dwarves; on the other, they had treated him horribly, even going so far as to chase him out into the wasteland to die. When he looked at it objectively, though, he realized that those actions by the few that had wanted him dead were in the minority; the rest were too beaten down by their own circumstances to care much about him. In fact, there were plenty of times when an individual had shown him a little kindness, even if it were just sharing a bit of food with him now and then.
Unbeknownst to him, he agreed with Sandra – a Dungeon Core of all things – about the situation within the land of Orcrim: he couldn’t blame the entire race for the actions of a few. He felt a small obligation to do what he could to help, though he couldn’t guarantee it would extend to the Dwarves who had kicked him out of their land. Regardless, it wasn’t them at first who needed their help, it was the Orcs – his father’s people, whether he liked it or not.
* I’m glad you asked! Initially, the only thing I want you to do is learn; I have a lot to teach you if you want to become the greatest Blacksmith in all of Orcrim. *
“What are you talking about? I can’t ever go back there – they’ll kill me on sight.”
* Yes…that’s an issue we’ll have to deal with later. In the meantime, we need to see what we can do to make you so invaluable that they won’t touch you. *
Kelerim wasn’t so sure he’d ever be too invaluable to not kill outright, but he went along with it anyway. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, or anywhere else to go, so he figured he might as well see what she was talking about.
Another Ironclad Ape appeared at the opposite tunnel of where he had entered the “dining room”, and with a mental urging from Sandra, he followed it through another tunnel. The tunnel itself sloped gently upwards, and he guessed it would eventually lead out from the dungeon; the thought of trying to escape again briefly flitted through his mind, but after talking with the Dungeon Core, he realized that he didn’t have anywhere to go.
Although he was told he wasn’t a prisoner of the dungeon, he was basically a prisoner to his circumstances; he could leave at any time, but without a firm destination in mind, he was essentially lost. Even if he traveled to the land of the Gnomes – which was his initial thought when he was wandering the wasteland above – he didn’t have any prospects there and would be at the mercy of the Gnomish people. And after Sandra told him that those Bearlings were still up there somewhere, he doubted he would even make it that far.
So his best bet was to stay in the dungeon – as strange as that sounded – until he could come up with a better plan. There was guaranteed food and water, at least, and that hadn’t always been the case when he was living in Orcrim. In fact, it had only been over the last year as a Blacksmith that meals occurred regularly, as it was his payment for his work. That, and the small shack he called his home – which was little more than a place barely large enough to lay down in.
Kelerim arrived at another room, which was nearly twice as large as the dining room, and he instantly felt at home. A decent-sized forge – though it was barely recognizable as one, because it looked so different from what he was used to – sat off to one side of the room, and nearby he saw an iron anvil, a long stone workbench, a full set of grinding wheels of different textures, and along the wall…the tools of the Blacksmithing trade, hung up on little stone protrusions embedded into the wall itself. Tongs, chisels, hammers, files – everything he had used before, and even a few that he was unfamiliar with – were there, just waiting for him to pick them up.
As much as he was forced into the profession, after a while he had realized that he had enjoyed the work. The long hours and weapon quotas he could’ve done without, of course; regardless, he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment whenever he finished a blade. And here, as if it were waiting for him, was a forge all his own. At least, he assumed so, since it didn’t look like it had been used before.
* This is your forge, though I haven’t had a chance to set the traps up that will operate it all yet. I built the rest of this over the last week, in the hopes that you would want to stay, but if you decided against it, I would’ve had my Ironclad Ape in here crafting instead. It will still be present to teach you some new techniques, but I will essentially have this room keyed to you.
* I needed a catalyst to tie the two main trap elements needed for this together – Fire and Earth – and you are the perfect choice. Once I do that, anytime you’re in the room, the forge fires will work and the grinding wheels will spin for you, but I’ll show you how that will work a little later. *
“Why am I, what did you call it, ‘the perfect choice’?” Kelerim didn’t really know what she meant by traps.
* What? Oh, sorry, it’s because of the two elements you have access to – Fire and Earth. Since you have a bit of an affinity with them, tying these two traps into you will work, like I said, perfectly. *
What is she talking about? I can only use Fire, and only a little bit at that. He told her as much, and her voice faded from his head for a moment. When it came back, she seemed as confused as he was.
* It must be some sort of untapped potential you have inside you. I doubt my bonding would be wrong, as it somehow knew what you had access to, despite your lack of knowledge of the ability. Anyway, it shouldn’t affect what I’m going to do, so hold on. *
Kelerim stood in the middle of the room, his mind whirling at the new information he had received. I have access to Earth elemental energy? He wished he had been born in a place that knew more about the different elemental energies, or at least in place that shared that knowledge more than in Orcrim. Although he didn’t know what difference it would’ve made, he couldn’t help but think that being able to use it during his whole adult life might have helped a bit.
He felt a slightly familiar tingling sensation run over his skin, the same thing he felt when he was trying to spark a fire to life. This particular feeling didn’t come from him, however; he instinctively knew it was coming from the direction of the forge. A second, rougher, sensation rolled over his skin as well, but he didn’t recognize it; nevertheless, he could tell it was coming from the grinding stones on the other side of the room.
The familiar and strange sensations lasted for nearly a minute, before he felt them intensify in less than a second, almost as if something was rushing toward him. A brief spark of pain infused his whole body, but it was blessedly gone as if it had never existed before he could even cry out. And then all the different feelings faded until he was left shaking and confused in the middle of the room.
* Sorry about that, I didn’t know it would feel strange. I had only done that with my constructs before, and they can’t really experience any physical sensations. Anyway, it’s done and it’s time to get started! *
Sandra started to show him how the unique, black glass-plated forge worked, and how to regulate the temperature inside by the placement of whatever he was working on. It was strange not seeing a place for fuel and air circulation, but he had to admit that it was much easier not having to worry about it. The grinding wheels were even easier to understand, and the fact that they wouldn’t wear down and have to be replaced was an even better tidbit of information.
The only problem was, he didn’t see anything for him to work with: no iron or even copper. He figured he wasn’t going to learn much by working with stone, so he raised his concern to Sandra.
* Don’t worry about that, I’ve got you covered. We’ll be working with all sorts of different metals, but I usually only create them when I need them. *
“Wait, you create the metal?”
* Of course, I am a dungeon after all. I can’t create anything other than basic materials and tools, however, so weapons, armor, and even other finished goods like leather need to be crafted. Which reminds me, I spent a little time making you something to replace the one I damaged with the bonding. *
Kelerim looked toward ano
ther wall where the Ape was pointing and saw another leather apron hanging up. Looking down, he realized that the apron he had been wearing was essentially just scrap now and was barely hanging off of him, so he took it off and threw it into the corner, where it almost immediately started to dissolve and disappear. Shaking his head at yet another strangeness of the dungeon, he picked the new supple leather apron off the hook and tied it around him, unsurprised that it fit him perfectly. He had never had anything new before; his old apron had been the previous Blacksmith’s which he inherited when he took over the smithy.
* Clothes will have to wait until I have access to the raw materials to craft it. I tried absorbing a scrap of your shirt I found up above, but it lacked the base ingredients I needed to even begin. In the meantime, let’s get to it! *
A small block of pure iron appeared on the workbench and Kelerim smiled at the familiar sight. Now this I can do.
Chapter 34
Over the last nearly three months of her life as a Dungeon Core, Sandra had forgotten about the physical limitations of Humans, Orcs, Dwarves, or any other race out in the world. Her constructs needed no rest, could accurately strike over and over at a single spot without fail, and were – in comparison to their size, at least – fairly strong.
The Crafter's Dungeon: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 1) Page 26