by Ryan DeBruyn
“Rocky? Rocky, is that you?” called a voice.
There was so much familiarity in that call—like the person had known him for years. He had grown accustomed to people calling his name—military runners, Sela, Zippo, and even Smith. Each one of those said his name uniquely. But this voice carried a tone he hadn’t heard since before the first wave. He snapped his head around, heart leaping into his throat, searching for the person that matched the voice.
The crowd undulated as someone pushed their way through. His eyes followed the parting of the crowd, waiting for the individual to exit. A dark-haired, bearded man pushed his way to the front. The man’s smile plucked at the strings of Rocky’s heart. The man’s thick eyebrows and unkempt beard surprised Rocky and his legs collapsed under him. His brother-in-law Benoit’s smile wavered, and he jumped forward, loping to close the distance between them.
This couldn’t be. The system hadn’t listed the man. He had already assumed that he was dead. How could he be here? If he was here, was the rest of his family? Strength returned in a rush of adrenaline, and he shot to his feet, searching the crowd over Ben’s fast-approaching head. When his eyes didn’t find any more familiar faces, he glanced back at Ben. He drew to a stop in front of him and now wouldn’t meet Rocky’s eyes. Rocky pulled him into a hug. At firs,t Ben was stiff, before he finally relaxed into the embrace.
After a brief moment, Benoit pushed away. “They flew separately, Rocky. They were going to visit New York for a day on the way back. I landed in Toronto and was going to take the train back later that night. Then the wave struck, and I thought it was all a dream …” His brother-in-law was nearly crying by the end of his recollection of the events.
Rocky grabbed his shoulders. “They are alive, Ben—this, I know.” Ben met his eyes. “Yes, I have a way to find out if they are still alive, but I didn’t know where. You say they are in New York?”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand, Rocky. Humans are slaves in New York.” Benoit pointed to the Golem Knights. “Golems are intelligent there, unfriendly.”
The Knights were too far away to hear Benoit’s words. Rocky considered telling them; they would want to go to New York right away.
“All the more reason to go there now, Ben. Wait... how do you know that? Did you go there?”
“No, of course, I didn’t go there. I would have died or become a slave myself. A group of survivors escaped and managed to make it here. They told us what was going there.”
Ben hadn’t gone to New York the instant he had heard the news. Unbelievable. They were Ben’s family too, and he didn’t even try. That was his wife—Rocky’s sister—didn’t that mean anything to Ben? Rocky had gone to Ottawa to save them, risked his life more than once to find his family. He bit down hard, not wanting to say anything he would regret. Rocky’s jaw creaked as he fought the urge to spit vitriol at his brother-in-law. His Dark Cloak swirled in his palms, restless.
Benoit’s face flushed, and he lifted his chin. Rocky thought they were going to start screaming at each other.
“Who is this man, Rocky? His name is Daeric Nallo, and he is a Ranger?” asked Sela.
His name wasn’t Daeric, but Rocky had heard it somewhere before. “You changed your name to your Dungeons and Dragons character. That’s why we couldn’t find you. Why would you go and do a thing like that? I thought you were dead. Dead!”
Ben shouted back, “I didn’t know it actually changed my name. I thought this was all an elaborate dream at first. It was a strange option in the settings.”
They screamed at each other for another ten minutes before they finally settled down.
“Nice to meet you, Ancestor of Rocky, I am Selaphelia Ardensai. What shall I call you?”
“Benoit or Ben is fine. How did you end up babysitting this oaf?”
Sela had the audacity to laugh at his brother-in-law's insult. “That’s a long story, but it appears we have some time. Is there a place to eat around here?”
Rocky’s anger flared anew. “Sela, we don’t have time for that. We need to get to New York.”
Sela frowned at him. “You know we have a satellite that can show us the state of this New York, right? Stop letting your emotions get away from you, and let’s go have a look.”
The group walked into the cockpit and used the remote station to zoom in on New York. It wasn’t hard to spot, due to the large amount of—debris? From far away, the city still resembled a city. No buildings stood intact, but the road planning and districts still stretched out on-screen. Gravel filled the areas that had once held roads. Another zoom showed golems standing by as teams of humans used ropes to pull massive pieces of the rubble out.
The humans piled chunks of concrete, buses, and cars, creating a mountain of debris. A golem, that easily stood hundreds of stories tall, sat atop the heap as if it was a throne. Its hand was wrapped around a spear-like weapon. The sheer size and scope of this golem overwhelmed him, and he didn’t think it could be defeated. He’d have to find another way to find his family. His mind pictured the interstate golems, and then the smoky apparitions Michabo produced.
That limp-eared jackrabbit could have warned me.
“Rocky, we can’t just go in there. That thing can swat our ship from the sky, turn our entire army to a pool of blood, without standing up from that throne.” Sela walked over and put a hand on his arm, but he pulled away. He felt betrayed.
She tried again. “Rocky, they aren’t killing the humans. They must be feeding them, and there is a Red Quest issued to the golems by Gaia herself. Your family isn’t exactly in danger.”
Rocky shook his head and looked at Benoit. Benoit wouldn’t meet his eyes. Another one too scared to act? No way.
“Do you think you can beat an area filled with enemies as strong or stronger than the Golem Knights?”
She tried again to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shifted away angrily. “Sela, a slave isn’t a good thing. If they are slaves, I am not going to let them stay that way any longer than they already have.”
“Benoit? Can you help me convince this idiot?” Sela said.
“She has a point, Rocky. Think about this. You’re talking about a suicide mission. I mean, how do you plan to get in there?” Benoit responded.
He didn’t have a plan. Maybe if he had better gear, but he had failed at Enchanting in all of his attempts. Perhaps if he had Bathilda, but she had left to scour the world clean of Nuclear radiation. He was a failure. He couldn’t get anything right, and now his family would suffer because of him. He wasn’t sure what was worse, not knowing where his family was, or knowing their location but unable to get to them.
Sela whispered, “What about Frank’s activity here in Toronto? Are you going to let him take control of people and create an army of slaves again?”
“How can you ask me to choose between my family and survivors?” Even his ‘girlfriend’ was against him. Rocky couldn’t take it anymore. He looked for an escape and saw Azoth enjoying some liberal pets from Zippo outside the ship. He rushed off the deck, out of the ship, and mounted up on his pet. “Let’s get out of here.”
***
Rocky returned to the Territory. He had wanted to fly right to New York, but he knew that Sela was telling the truth. He didn’t want to listen to her position, but he had to admit she was usually right about these things. That was the most frustrating part. Wasn’t she, his guide, his ‘girlfriend’—shouldn’t she support him in this? She should have helped him come up with a plan, not use emotional blackmail on him. Of course he wanted to save the survivors from Frank. But why couldn’t he do both?
And when she wasn’t trying to stop him from finding his family, she was showing him up as a leader. Sela was more the leader of this Territory than he was. People came to her for answers before they even considered asking him. He could be standing right in front of them, and they’d still ask Sela first. Other than lucking into the Territory, what had he done for these people?
Derik�
��s accusations looped in his head. What had he done for these people? He’d failed at Enchanting, incurred an invasion by Apothis, killed half of the escorted survivors, and not even found his family. His sole reason for building this place was to attract survivors, to find his family!
At least he knew where they were now.
But how was he supposed to save them? His Stealth Skill would drain through his Ether pool in seconds in a city of high-level golems.
If he went at night and used Dark Cloak in conjunction, he would be a bit better off. Then he would just need to find his family and get them out.
In theory, it was easy; in practice, not so much. New York City had been home to over eight million people. If the survival rate of around ten percent held, then the current population was eight hundred thousand. To find two people in eight hundred thousand wouldn’t be an easy task, even without the golems to contend with.
Azoth paced beside Rocky, mirroring his frustrated motions. At least he still had one friend. He reached out and petted the bird-lion affectionately. Humans were clearly safe, to a degree, in New York. Sela was right about that. The first wave had hit nearly two months ago, and his family still lived.
Perhaps he could sneak in as one of the slaves. But how would he pull it off? What about the Golem Knights’ search for other sapient golems?
He paced faster, weighing his options.
A runner approached, and he stopped pacing.
“Rocky! LFD says he is looking for you. We thought you were in Toronto, but we just received a transmission asking us to look for you here. Would you like us to send a message to the main team? Call a council meeting?”
Rocky shook his head and saluted the man before dismissing him. He managed to hold a neutral expression on his face until the man left. The council. They were probably planning on using the Territorial Ether for a high number of things. Sela had accused his plan of deceit, and he felt his anger bubbling. He hated that she was right, but also that she wouldn’t own up to her part in that decision.
How could she not be willing to help me?
His anger continued to simmer, and he channeled it into every footfall as he jogged with Azoth to see LFD.
From his stylized entrance, LFD blurted, “I found the ring, Rocky. I dug through about …”
LFD continued to babble, and Rocky felt a spike of emotions. He went from anger to euphoria in the span of a second as tears welled in his eyes. He would be able to talk to Azoth again.
Out of the rock at the entrance to the tunnel, a silver ring rose to the surface. LFD was still babbling about finding the object, but Rocky hadn’t been listening to his tales of exploration. He picked up the ring and Analyzed it.
Ring of Chaos Serpent
● The Void God Apep created this ring. The wearer of this ring is the leader among other Cultists.
Quality: Superb
Enchantments: Locked
Chapter Thirty-One
Rocky’s soul broke. He could almost hear the shards hit the ground. He stumbled mid-stride, tripping over his own misery. He reached out to the entrance support to steady himself and sagged against it. He threw the ring away from himself as tears ran down his cheeks. The accumulation of not having been able to talk to Azoth for so long, piled together with everything else, struck him like a forge hammer. Azoth shuffled over and nudged him. Rocky reached out and patted his pet. His friend. The only one that supported him for every idea, every adventure. Everything bubbled over, the final drop of water that overflows the glass. His friend was right there, right beside him. He just couldn’t hear him.
“Was that not the ring you wanted?” asked LFD. Rocky barely noticed that LFD had stopped prattling about his pseudo-archeological dig for the ring.
Rocky shook his head. He had nothing left to give. His sadness slowly abated. The feeling hadn’t disappeared, but he gained control over it. Hardened it. Resolved to act. He needed to do something for his family, but first, he needed to ensure his Territory would survive if he died.
“Please keep looking, LFD.” He had no strength left to say more.
LFD whispered, “I will keep looking.” His usual exuberance was gone, as if Rocky’s sadness stifled it. He didn’t have time to mollify the Dungeon.
Rocky walked to the Crafter's Hall, Azoth beside him. He continued to pet the fur-feathered beasty, more out of a need for his emotional support than for Azoth’s enjoyment. The building was massive, and Azoth happily entered with him, sensing that Rocky needed him, or perhaps because he wanted more pets. The people inside stopped their work as the lion-bird entered. The Hall plunged into silence as Rocky and Azoth moved to an empty workbench. Some individuals turned back to their tasks, while others kept their eyes glued to the terrifying creature beside Rocky.
If he was leaving for New York on a possible one-way trip, he needed to leave a few things for the people of the Grotto. They would need a leader. A true leader. Sela, Smith, and the Council easily filled that role. Rocky grudgingly added Derik to that list.
The Grotto would need all of his Crystals, Gems, Marks and Chips. Rocky dumped all but one hundred Crystals into a private area of the Territorial Inventory. He added almost everything else from his Bag of Holding, leaving it practically empty. He kept the Bottle of Gaia’s Essence, strangely attached to the rare drop he had acquired at the start of all this.
The Grotto would need the ability to Enchant their own gear. There were other higher forms of Enchanting that would still be locked—like Ether Technology. But for now, he could give them a starting point. It was absolutely essential for their continued growth.
Rocky looked down at the remnants of his Bag of Holding. A pile of one hundred Crystallized Ether looked pitifully small, compared to what he was leaving behind. Rocky shrugged. He wouldn’t need it where he was going anyway.
In one hand, he held the Enchanter’s pen, twirling the pestle handle around in his other palm before securing the device within the mortar. He planned to leave the Enchanting tools in the Territorial Inventory when he left, but first, he was determined to solve this problem. He placed the mortar and pestle on the table and turned to survey the room of crafters. Someone in this hall likely had the answer he needed.
Rocky tossed the pen back and forth between his two hands, contemplating each station. In the back of the shop, a smith worked the bellows of the forge, the noise of it absent. A second smith hammered away, behind the first. Still no clanging reached his ears, tempting him to investigate. However, this wasn’t the time to indulge his curiosity.
He continued his scan of the room. A woman worked on tearing apart ragged t-shirts, sweaters and other assorted garments. The everyday wear was something he had gotten used to no longer seeing on people—at least not the people of the Grotto. Rocky remembered his own tattered clothing from his camping trip. He pulled the unuseable clothing out of his Bag of Holding and placed it on the ground. He had a sentimental attachment to the clothes of his former life—especially his Star Wars sweater. Yet, now that he had found a way for it to be reused, he would hand it over without hesitation. Rocky hoped that this seamstress and the many men and women working behind her would be able to keep his people clothed.
The leather workers toiled away, and while he was curious about their tools and methods, they had all they needed for now. The hunters all picked up skinning and placed the viable materials into the Territorial Inventory for the use of this group of crafters, and he assumed they used a solution or a skill to tan or dry the hides for use in their craft. He had purchased a stockpile of their wares from the guild funds. In a moment, he planned to Enchant some of that stockpile. Or destroy it.
Beyond the leather workers, a group of thirty to forty people read on Knowledge Tablets. If this was pre-apocalypse, he wouldn’t have noticed. Back then, people were glued to their electronic devices. A few of the Montessori Teachers sat with the group. He Analyzed a member he didn’t know.
Greta Hurd
Apprentice-Researcher
>
Level 19
Health Points 110 / 110
Sela had mentioned that a group of people were constantly working on researching new blueprints, techniques, and technologies. Rocky smiled and promised that if he somehow made it back to the Territory, he would take a more hands-on approach with this group. There might be a research page or building that worked like the video games he used to play.
His eyes finally landed on a group that could help him—the Alchemists and Herbalists section. Bundled plants and herbs littered nearly every surface of their workspace. Bunsen burners and glass apparatus occupied any free space. Smith had used them before for inks, and a few individuals worked away with a mortar and pestle. Their mortars and pestles were stone, and Rocky turned around to grab his diamond version of the device.
They were gone. So were the Crystals. He must have placed the item back in his Bag of Holding. He hadn’t had his back turned for more than a moment, and no one could have snuck up on him—right? He checked, but the Bag of Holding didn’t have the items within it.
Blood pumped through his ears, drowning out any noise in the Hall. He couldn’t solve the problem if his tools were missing. Azoth tugged gently on his hand, and he ignored it. If someone had stolen the items, they must still be nearby. He activated Dark Cloak and checked the shadows, his vision now magically assisted. Another tug, this one much more violent, nearly took Rocky off his feet.
He looked down at his arm, wondering how Azoth was pulling so hard, without Rocky feeling the Chimera’s sharp teeth. Azoth’s fangs clenched around the Enchanter’s pen.