Digital Me

by Alston Sleet

  I could only make the excuse that the noise, the heat, even the frustration, had dulled my wits.

  Then I had found the domain of the fire elementals and their effects were profound. At first, I couldn’t tell what was different, the dirt was a fine ground powder, but nothing that couldn’t be found in any desert. Then larger bits and pieces became common and then what was different was obvious. The crunch as thin lips of pottery broke, the high-pitched tinkle of broken pottery rubbing on broken pottery, the sound reminding me of cleaning up a vase I broke when I was eight.

  The fire elementals soon began to appear and I knew that my travel would be slowing even further.

  My travel north quickly became a nightmare crawl inside earth formed tunnels, with wind and flame baking the air inside. My lips cracked and bled on a regular basis. Every hour I would make a backup and I cherished when the brief moment of relief each death and restore brought. I found myself crying tears that quickly dried in the oven like tunnel each time I failed to find relief from a backup, meaning my death hadn’t come yet and I was going to have to focus and push the tunnel forward, ever forward, stopping only to create a wall behind and create yet another backup.

  Like a caterpillar made of stone, burning air, and pain I inched forward.

  I don’t know how many deaths I suffered, I couldn’t tell what the time was, or even how many days had passed. I know I remember at least a week of endless crawling. At one point I collapsed for a few hours as the elementals cooked the chamber further behind me. The slow relief calmed my sobbing and I realized that the noise of my travel kept the elementals focused on my chamber.

  I never slept. I had a few hours of rest whenever I couldn’t focus further on the wall ahead of me. I avoided taking too many stops in fear that the small stone chamber I huddled in would collapse and expose me to a cycle of endless death against a horde of fire elementals.

  My endless crawl was interrupted with a ringing impact and cracks forming on the roof of my stone capsule.

  A second thud of impact landed while I stared upwards in dumb confusion not understanding what could change in my endless crawl forward. The third impact cracked an opening into the stone roof and I could see a small sliver of the blue sky then obscured by a pillar of stone raised high and slamming down spraying dust into my face.

  Eventually, my befuddled mind recognized what I was seeing: an earth elemental. The last stretch of my crawl of horror had arrived. Only the recognition that I was near the end allowed me to realize the focus I needed. Slowly the dirt and stone below me crawled around and formed over the tunnel roof. Each impact slammed upon the curve of the tunnel forming small cracks which I quickly sealed. It wasn’t until roughly three feet of stone was above the arch when the impacts became dull thumps and no visible damage formed.

  Darkness, blisters, the taste of dust, my body scraped and sore from hours of crawling, each backup restore leaving my body healed and to be scraped anew. Before, every few backups I would open a small hole in the tunnel to look outward and see how much further I had to travel. Opening small holes on the tunnel sides allowed for checking my direction using sunset and sunrise.

  Now I would have to create a deep tunnel to avoid the destructive power of the earth elementals, the extra depth meant, even more, care to ensure for air flow.

  Days passed in a dark nightmare of slow crawling, every second marched out by a rhythmic cacophony of stone on stone as earth elementals collected around the slowly moving tunnel. The air elementals and fire elementals continued to throw flames and whip the air above, the only evidence of this was the ever present red glow and the howling wind through each air and sight hole formed.

  The remains of the temporary army camp were almost passed before I had recognized what it was. Nothing remained on the field of destruction. An army on the move carries few items that can’t be destroyed through the negligent passing of years let alone the concentrated efforts of fire.

  It was the bright blue glow shining almost directly into the sky like a beacon which caught my attention. At first, I thought it was just the blue of the sky at day until the dark of the night sky behind the glow changed my mind. It took far too long before I could figure out what it was I was looking at.

  The glow of a dungeon core.

  I had to change directions, I had either shifted more to the east during my tunneling or I had been off from the start, either was possible. Slowly I crawled and tunneled towards the glow, the gusts of wind, blasts of flames, and crunching impacts all rising in frequency and volume.

  At least a day was spent moving just the hundred yards remaining towards the glow, I had to tunnel even deeper as the gathered elementals increased the onslaught.

  Finally, I could see a large stone block made of some strange white flecked stone, at least four feet wide, with a large stone lid of the same material laying propped up against the block. Stones slammed against the block, kicked up from the horrible wind, but no scratches appeared.

  This was the cause of the Monster Waste. Whatever that material was, the Dungeon Core couldn’t shape it, its powers were blocked while it rested within the stone. With the lid off it could form monsters and send them out to attack, but it couldn’t dig, and so it remained unprotected except for its minions, lashing out in all directions.

  No one knew what had caused the release of part of the Dungeon Cores power and the formation of the Monster Waste, but it was clear now that somehow the lid had been shifted, how that had come to pass would remain lost to history.

  If the Dungeon Core was destroyed, then the Monster Wastes would heal. But that wasn’t my plan.

  With a manic grin on my face, I focused on the stone construction and forced the material to flow away. Gradually, slowly, a hole formed on the side of the stone chest. With more and more focus the glow within was freed until the core tumbled away and landed on the ground bouncing from the stone cage it had been relegated to for so many years.

  Suddenly a large hole formed under the core, the light dimming as the earth seemed to be sucked downward, the elementals rushing into the forming hole. Down the tunnel into the slowly fading glow could be heard the sounds of stone crashing and moving, the air rushing up the tunnel was heated and filled with dust.

  I spent three days, resting in my chamber of earth, close to the entrance of the new dungeon as elementals rushed back towards the tunnel. On the evening of the third day, the time between elementals passing into the dungeon became longer and longer.

  On the morning of the fourth day, with a bit of trepidation, I formed an exit from my tomb and crawled out taking care to be ready to dash back within my protection if any elementals were near.

  With a few hours of effort, I moved the stone chest and its covering a few hundred feet from the tunnel by slowly raising stone below it and tipping the chest forward in a roll. After moving it away from the tunnel I buried the secret of transporting dungeon cores away beneath the ground and covered it over. I hoped that would keep the mystery hidden for a few centuries at least.

  Turning south I stretched my naked dirt covered body and started walking.

  Chapter 25

  Pawn to D7#

  The trip back to the capital was a mostly silent one. Rolick didn’t seem interested in discussing with me my trip into the wastes, and I wasn’t particularly interested in explaining what I did either. When I casually killed myself with a fireball in order to fix my sunburn his face was a picture in perfect neutrality.

  I spent most of those days in contemplation. After the struggle and fight to reclaim the Monster Waste I realized something. I had won the battle, but I might have lost the war. So much of my efforts have been to gain strength, to move forward, to punish those who had harmed me, but I hadn’t stopped and considered my actions until now. I could either kill the King or leave, either way, I am either a violent threat or a weakling. Neither of these was the legend I was striving to leave behind.

  Oh, I know what I preferred given those choices an
d the King had left me few others, but it wasn’t the plan I had wanted. I kept thinking about it all during our ride back. This world is far more brutal and direct than my old one. In my old world, you would die because some insurance company would refuse to pay for your treatment. A flick of the wrist, a twirl of the pen, and your death was there in black and white.

  Cold.

  Impersonal.

  You may never see the face of your killer.

  Here you died because someone walked up and put a sword through you. The visceral, brutal, ‘I can solve my problems if I’m just strong enough’ feel to this world was mesmerizing but also led to the willingness to devalue life. At least that’s what it seemed like. Maybe it was just the nobles?

  I thought back to the passing of Felvers and the almost casual disregard everyone had for his death. Even my allies, Delana, Seren, Lendser, each did the equivalent of a shrug and carried on with their plotting and planning. I’m sure that if one of their inner group had died more would have been done, but still, it disgusted me. What does it say about me when the most I can say about my allies is that I don’t wish them harm but can’t bring myself to like them?

  Once this plan was done I would leave, maybe the Dwarves are more humane. Could I offer support in their mining of gold efforts perhaps? Maybe I could learn blacksmithing or was that too much of a stereotype? I felt the need to create instead of fight and destroy. I wanted to make something from raw materials into something wonderful and useful. I wanted to see something of beauty instead of the ugliness of strife and death.

  If things go as expected the political turmoil in the Kingdom would be extreme. It would be decades before things started to calm down again, even with just the recovery of the Monster Waste, the influx of cash from the new dungeon would throw the politics of the Kingdom into upheaval. Creating so much chaos and then leaving would leave me more upset if I was able to find myself capable of caring about these manipulative people.

  My reverie was broken while riding along the last street to the palace. The sounds of fighting and smoke were slowly rising from within the castle. I could see the gate guards abandoning their posts and rushing into the palace proper.

  I kicked my horse into a full gallop as we rushed toward the gates. I yanked back on the reigns clumsily as I came to the end of the courtyard before the door to the throne room. My fumbling dismount left me behind Rolick as he yanked the doors open to the sounds of metal and screaming. I needed to put riding lessons on the list of skills to improve.

  The plan had been to wait until the King had declared me a Duke, assign Seren as my Seneschal and overseer of my domain. I couldn’t see the King letting that stand, but if he didn’t interfere then I wouldn’t kill him. If the King broke his deal, then I would kill him, declare Seren Empress of the new Empire and overseer of my area, then again, leave. Chaos and political pandemonium would result, but the ability to make your opinion known by the sword was a time-honored tradition with royalty. ‘Bigger army diplomacy’ was practically traditional. House Delsar stood to gain the most and I had been assured that the mercenaries she had hired and hidden within the town would see that everything would work out.

  The detour to meet Seren’s father during my bandit-plagued trip to the capital had soothed the man’s worries for his daughter and had bolstered her protection at court while I was dealing with the Monster Waste. It was clear though that news of our arrival had raced ahead of us and that someone had decided to start the fireworks early.

  Before rushing into the throne room after Rolick I made a backup in preparation. Drawing my sword I tried to shield my eyes from the day’s glare and ducked into the darker hall.

  The coppery smell of blood and that of a punctured intestine was strong in the main hall. Men wearing blue and yellow were most of those on the ground, these were Baron Felsar’s men. Some of the dead men I mistook to be servants at first since they wore no livery, but then I remembered that mostly women served in the castle and these dead men were likely to be mercenaries. A few men, dressed in black and red with gold trim, were strewn about as well.

  Baron Turmin’s men.

  As much as I was disgusted with the casual disregard for commoners, I was married to and sworn to protect Seren. She was my ally. Baron Turmin couldn’t hurt me, but Delana and Seren were probably his goals. I followed the sound of the fighting off to the left as Rolick rushed out a door in the back on the right side of the throne room. I was guessing that Rolick was heading towards the Kings quarters or a guard mustering area or something of the like. I was too worried about my allies to care about the King.

  One of the men lying in the back of the hall was trying to hold his body together at the waist while he muttered something as his face paled white. The fighting had started recently, hopefully, there was still time to find my friends.

  Through the door on the left, the fighting was loud and fierce. The sounds of metal on metal and metal on the stone was a horrible cacophony. I could see men with half a dozen liveries, men without livery, men with cloaks signaling Merchant Houses, it was like the entire Kingdom had decided to attack each other all at once. Whatever the result of this fight, the Kingdom may not stand again after.

  I found one of the servant walks, a back way that servants used to travel around the castle, behind a wall hanging and mentally thanked Seren and Delana for the lessons about servants and how they did their work. That nobles wouldn’t use these passage I still doubted, I just thought that in the craziness they had forgotten them.

  The warren of stonework led around corners and around the shape of rooms, sometimes mirroring hallways and other times eschewing them entirely. The servant’s way was built almost as an afterthought, it’s purpose ensuring its construction would show less care.

  Ahead I could smell the scent of burnt wood, but the sounds of conflict were receding.

  It took almost ten minutes for me to find my way to the servant exit closest to Seren’s quarters. I could feel every minute slipping away, in a battle like this ten minutes was an eternity and the fighting could end at any time. The door to Seren’s rooms had strike marks, the wood was chipped but it still stood. The side near the latch was broken and nothing would now allow it to lock. Standing next to the door was a single guard with Sergeant marks.

  The guard was the same man who had delivered the invitation at the inn. He straightened when he saw me with sword drawn and face set. The pale look on his face said he knew who I was and clearly understood I would kill him and I would enter the room.

  I made a backup and prepared myself for the nightmare jerkiness of the death of combat.

  Without looking away from me he slowly pointed his sword at me. Readying myself I took one step forward while the guard deliberately dropped his sword. His action was so odd that for a moment I thought it was some kind of distraction to prepare an attack. Carefully, as if watching a wild animal, the Sergeant reached up and removed his helmet then turned and walked away.

  I stood befuddled for a brief moment before I continued to the door.

  Yanking open the door to Seren’s quarters elicited a small bark of fear and a scramble backward. On the floor of the main room, near the door closest to Seren’s bedchamber, was the King, face down, with a dagger planted firmly between his shoulder blades. The dagger was one I had seen before, it was one Sasha carried at her side.

  “He was going to rape her,” Sasha said without preamble.

  “Glad you killed him,” was all I could reply.

  My body shook as I tried to recover from the shock of adrenalin.

  “He hated you so much, he was going to hurt you in the only way he could,” The venom in her words were clear even from her huddled position holding Seren and kissing her hair.

  Seren just sat and clung to her love. The violence had been beyond her ability to handle. I expect that Valient had been more violent in his attentions then I had originally presumed.

  I spent the rest of that night standing guard outside Seren�
��s chambers. The fighting only reached the door once but was quickly routed. Delana was right, the mercenaries she hired served her well, though not without loss. House Delsar lost it’s head that night and had to raise Lendser to the head of the House following the fighting. Madam Delana, the title of a high placed widow who has not remarried, showed no sadness except for the slightest of crease marks around her lips. Fair enough, her mourning was not for me to see.

  During the following weeks, I was not privy to the details of the cleanup. Partly this was because I was no longer vital to their plots, and partly I was doing everything I could to avoid dealing with the people I could no longer stand. A Kingdom had fallen, thousands of people who probably had no clue what the conflict was over would die. Yes, this coup was quick and the head of the beast went first meaning this coup would have few deaths, but deaths it still would have.

  Valient’s ghost returned to haunt my sleep accompanied by faceless soldiers marching to battle to fight for men they had never met.

  With the remnants of Baron Felsar’s men and Delsar’s mercenaries, the coup was complete in short order. I’m not sure who started the rumors, but somehow I became the man who killed the old King. I’m betting this was something that Delana started, again I am tricked by someone far craftier than I am. I dislike having allies who are willing to poke and prod all while forcing you to smile and like it. I will have to think long and hard about how to get that crafty, or if I really wanted to.

  Seren spent those weeks speaking to me in polite words and silent deflections, but I could hear her tears at night. The friendship we had hesitantly started to form was gone.

  The formal gathering to declare Seren Empress was my idea. I walked through the main entry hall and through the slightly smoke smelling antechamber. The walls had new banners showing the colors of Felsar, Seren’s father’s colors, mixed with House Delsar’s colors. In the throne room, the Dukes and Barons lined the halls to show support for their new Empress. Delana stood behind and to the left of Seren while she sat upon the throne. I could see the eyes of the nobles watching for the slightest disfavor from the new power behind the throne. Lendser stood to Seren’s right, the symbolism I was sure was not lost on the gathered nobles.