“Yeah,” I said. “That’s not a bad idea at all. I’ve also been thinking about magic. Garstil, would you be able to teach me some spells? Flint was throwing around some sort of blood magic as a rogue. It wouldn’t hurt to be able to have options.”
“Morogan learn too. Magic useful.”
Garstil thought for a moment. “You know, that’s a great idea. We should all share skills when we’re able to. But the mana costs will likely be an issue unless we can find some equipment to boost your stats.”
Sai smiled. “Abalonious, your side kick was flawless. Flint did not expect it. A perfect execution.”
“I didn’t even think about it, just happened from pure instinct, there wasn’t any hesitation. I’ll definitely want to pick up some more.” We all nodded in agreement.
We followed the road for several hours and then took a fork in the road toward the mountain. We’d made it about a mile up the mountain by the time it started to get dark. This wasn’t going to be one of Tolkien’s stories where the heroes run nonstop for hours across a mountain range. I didn’t have the stamina for that, and we had survivors to escort. That suited me just fine.
We located a flat spot on the side of the road that looked like it’d been used as a camp several times by previous travelers. We flipped the wagons on their side to block against the heavy winds and huddled the masses behind the barrier. Several large fires burned, radiating heat toward the wagons. We set several large boulders around the fire as well to help retain some of the heat. The fires had to be kept raging to keep the rain from dousing them, but the wagon wall helped immensely. We cooked up a hearty stew for everyone and passed it around. From the moment we made camp, we rotated watch with two five-man patrols. One set patrolled and the other warmed themselves by the fire, switching as soon as they were warm. Thasgrin went around healing and comforting those he could.
At daybreak, we passed rolls around to everyone and broke camp. The wagons struggled up the hillside road, the wind and rain not helping in the slightest. By midday, we crested the final rise in the road and were greeted by massive dark gray stone walls. Pictographs of Dwarves from days long past lined the wall, depicting great battles. The gates were wrought iron and as thick as my wrist. Torches moved quickly to and fro atop the walls. We’d apparently caused a commotion.
A stout Dwarf leaned over the edge of one of the turrets. “Thasgrin, is that ye down there?”
“Aye!” Thasgrin yelled back. “Let us in from the rain before we catch a cold!” Yelling and cursing from men on the wall began echoing back and forth. The gates lurched upward, granting us access. As we followed Thasgrin inside the walls, the Dwarf that’d been yelling approached us.
“Thasgrin, what in the hells happened?” The two Dwarves traded heavy grips.
“Ritualists led undead on Sheffield and wiped it off the map. Then they marched on Wallowdale. We took out most of them, but the floodin’s likely taken out the town by now. All o’ the bridges were washed out as we left.”
“Odin’s beard…” said the other Dwarf. “At least you got the townsfolk here safely.”
“Aye… Listen, cousin, can I get accommodations for me friends? They’re the ones who helped us survive.”
The Dwarf laughed heartily. “Of course! Any friend of Thasgrin’s is all right in my book!”
We were led to the local inn, a stone monstrosity in the center of town. The bottom floor was a tavern, as seemed to be the custom I'd seen so far, but unlike other inns, this one was four stories. We were put up on the second floor. The room had four beds with a trunk at the foot of each bed. Each had cleaning supplies for weapons and armor and personal hygiene.
“Does this feel kind of like a barracks to you guys?” I stowed all of my gear, except the bracers, in the trunk and dropped down on the bed.
Garstil, having stored his stuff, also dropped onto his bed. “I heard some of the survivors talking about this place. The second floor is meant for overflow militia and army personnel. All of the normal tenants stay on the third and fourth floor. This entire city is basically an army base. I have no idea what they’re protecting though.”
“Maybe how small mans are?” asked Morogan.
“Maybe,” I said. “It’s possible all Dwarven cities are like this. But I think Garstil’s right. This city is built like a fortress, but the placement doesn’t seem very strategic unless there’s more than meets the eye.”
Morogan walked over and examined the bath. “Bath strange.” He pulled on a lever, and water rushed into the wooden tub. “Bath fill self!” He stripped naked and jumped in, steam rising from the tub.
I crossed over to his trunk and tossed him a bar of soap. “Here, this’ll help.” He thanked me and got to cleaning himself. “Don’t take too long. You have a line waiting out here.” Garstil and I both laughed.
An hour and several cycles of heavenly warm water later, the three of us headed down to the tavern to grab some food. The dining area was absolutely packed, so we took a seat at the empty bar and ordered their finest steaks and potatoes.
Thasgrin stepped through the front door and made his way over to us. “Barkeep, I’ll have the same, and ales for us as well.” He dropped down on the barstool next to me.
“Y-Yes, sir,” the barkeep stammered nervously and took off running to the kitchen to deliver his order. He slipped and ran into the doorframe but kept going like he hadn’t noticed. Odd. Thasgrin paid it no mind.
Thasgrin turned to us. “I wanna thank ye boys for helpin’ out. I couldn’a done it without ye.”
When our food arrived, the barkeep didn’t make eye contact with any of us, and his hands shook the entire time as he served us. Very odd indeed.
Lowering my voice to almost a whisper, I leaned over to Thasgrin. “Why’s he so nervous around you? He looks terrified.”
“Aye he does,” he said with a chuckle, voice low. “Me father’s some important nobleman. He’s probably worried about offending him or somethin’. Between us, I don’ have any interest in that aspect of me life. I don’ wanna be treated any different than anyone else, so I do me own thing an’ everyone else can do theirs.”
“All right, that's fair. I can respect a man's privacy. Or Dwarf.”
“Thank ye, laddie. Be much appreciatin’ it. Jus’ Thasgrin the Cleric. Jus’ how I like it.”
16
Of Robots, and Men
We finished up our meal, and the five of us made our way to the military training grounds. Practice dummies littered the area, and in the middle was a large dirt circle for sparring. A tall log fence with a gate surrounded the area, and runes had been etched into each beam, apparently meant to neutralize harmful magic that might damage the city.
Garstil looked around the wooden arena. “How much damage could these walls take?”
“Jus’ about anythin’ we can toss at it. There’ve been some crazy duels in here that would’a leveled half the city had the walls not contained the damage.”
Garstil fired off an orb of arcane energy at the wall. The energy hit the wall, causing the runes to flare a brilliant azure. The energy dissipated, absorbed into the runes. “This is really impressive work. Is this something one can learn to do?”
“Aye. It’s called *glyph work name*. I can introduce ye to the one responsible for this wall if ye’d like?”
Garstil smiled, examining some of the runes. He traced the designs with his finger, following their pattern. Azure energy glowed and faded as he continued. “Yes,” he said, almost caressing the wall, “I’d very much like that. A skill like this could be very useful indeed.”
Sai burst out laughing. “If I did not know better, I would think that you wanted to make love to the wall.” Thasgrin and I joined in on the laughter.”
“What? No!” He stammered. “That’s not at all what I meant!” We all laughed harder. “All right. You guys better quit laughing, or you’ll find out what two million volts feel like…” Electricity exploded out from him, arcing in all directio
ns like a Tesla coil. We all jumped back.
“Whoa! Whoa. Dude, calm down. We’re just havin’ some fun with you,” I said.
Garstil released his lightning. “No one pokes a sleeping dog with a stick.” He smiled. “Who wants to spar?”
I stepped forward. “I’ll go first. After Flint tossed me on my ass with that blood magic, I’ve gotta figure out how to deal with ranged damage.” I looked around and noticed a weapons rack with many wooden swords, staves, and knives. I grabbed the largest wooden sword from the rack and stepped about twenty paces from Garstil. “Any advice?”
“Aba, dodge fast.” Morogan grinned.
The three remaining party members moved to a dug-out protrusion covered in runes. At least they were safe from Garstil’s magic.
“I’m ready,” I said. A sphere of power flew at me. I Dashed toward him at a forty-five, but the blast clipped my shoulder, triggering every nerve ending in my body. I landed in a slide, looking up at the sky.
We tried several more times. Different strategies ended with similar results; Garstil’s magic was just too fast. I could have used Temporal Shift, but a five-minute cooldown wasn't going to cut it. “This isn’t working. There isn’t enough of a threat. I think we need to raise the stakes some.”
Garstil scowled. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
I shrugged. “Thasgrin can heal me if you end up overdoing it.”
He looked at Thasgrin, who nodded back to him. “All right then.” Lightning crackled around Garstil, pebbles starting to float around him as he reached down into his well of power. He raised his hands toward me. I began to have second thoughts, but it was much too late. The lightning blast was already on its way.
I panicked. For some reason, I tried to shield myself with my off hand since it was empty. A heavy bass thrum sounded, as the blast impacted something solid, about three feet in front of me. A semi-transparent field of blue energy materialized around me in a half dome, hexagonal plates of energy interlocking together. The blast dissipated around the shield. The ground shook. My ears popped. The blastwave sent dust and dirt flying in all directions. The plates of energy dispersed and faded to nothing. The usual, almost unnoticeable, hum of the bracers was gone. I looked down and noticed several status indicators.
Shield Cooldown: Active - 2 min 30 sec
System Status: Power Depleted.
Charge Time: 3W, 5D, 2H, 5M, 10S
Temporal Shift: Not Available
Imbue Weapon: Not Available
Shielding: Not Available
Plasma Cannon: DAMAGED
Recharge System: Degraded
My jaw must have been on the ground. I must have been in a daze. Everyone had rushed over to me to see what happened or if I was all right. I was stunned.
Garstil was checking me over. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”
Thasgrin looked around, clearly suspicious of onlookers and seemingly quite troubled. “Lad. Ye need to be very careful who ye let see that armor. Very careful. Plenty of people would kill ye where ye stand to claim the power fer themselves.” He tore two strips off of the hem of his robe. “Here. Let’s wrap these ’round yer bracers.” He reached out to help me wrap my right wrist. As he neared, the bracer’s runes and circuitry flared to life. Tiny electrical currents arced to his fingers as he quickly wrapped the brown cloth around my wrist.
“What the hell was that?” asked Garstil.
“Not a word. Not a bloody word. Quickly, we need to get him out of sight. No tellin’ what heard that blast against the shield.”
Thasgrin rushed us into a small stone building, terrified of…something. When we got inside, he barred the door with a huge piece of lumber and set it into hooks on either side of the large door.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Aye, I might’a. I haven’a seen those bracers since they were worn by The Sword Bearer, nearly two hundred years ago. An’ I never thought I’d see ’em again.”
“How tiny man two hundred?” asked Morogan.
“Yeah, you don’t have a single gray hair. Looking pretty good for two hundred,” said Garstil. He seemed to have his doubts.
“Three hundred fifty, actually,” said Thasgrin, shocking everyone.
“What? How? Do all Dwarves have such long lifespans?” I asked.
Thasgrin looked at the ground. “Nah, only a few who are descended from nobility. Like I said back at the inn, I prefer to not talk about that part of my past.” He looked me in the eye, pain and rage battling for control. “I was there during the Battle of Unsung Heroes. I was there when Noslen fought his way out of that hellhole.” He began to shake a little, rage winning out. “All those people. All those innocents.”
“What happened?” I asked softly.
He squared his shoulders. “Fifty thousand innocents. Just. Gone. Them necromancers weaved a spell over the whole city. Most of the people rose after they died, addin’ to their numbers. The Ancients decided ’twas too much of a threat. Obliterated them all.” He let out a breath, slouching his shoulders, “’Twas the right decision, but after all this time, it still hurts.”
“We were there recently,” I said. “There was at least one necromancer there. He tried to kill us several times with his undead minions. We’re also tracking another one who reclaimed a staff Noslen had taken at some point.”
Thasgrin’s body language tensed. “The Staff of a Thousand Souls, aye. I know it well. Noslen almost died takin’ it. Hells, the entire party almost died.”
Muffled shouting and small explosions caught our attention. “What was that?” I asked.
“Corrupted Ancients, from the mountain. I was afraid of this. The whole reason this stronghold was built is to contain the corrupted Ancients. They’ve probably woken up after that blast earlier. They’ll keep attackin’ the stronghold till they break through or run out of energy. It happens every fifty years or so, but we weren’t due for another attack for at least twenty more.”
Morogan, who had been sitting on a crate in the corner, stood. “Not sit. Others fight. Not hide in stone house. Fight too.”
“I can’t argue with the big guy. If this is our fault, we should definitely be out there helping defend the stronghold against these corrupted Ancients.”
“We’re all in agreement then,” said Garstil.
Thasgrin sighed. “Aye. Le’s go get yer gear from the inn.”
Outside was utter chaos. Screaming and concussive blasts echoed around the town from the direction of the mountainside. We arrived at the inn and ran up the stairs to our room. All of our gear was already on our beds. Someone had cleaned and repaired all of it.
“I had ’em maintain yer gear while you were out. I hope ye don’ mind.”
“Not at all. It looks brand-new!” I said. It even smelled and felt like new leather as I put everything on. The second my shoulder armor was on, the bracers lit up, vaporizing the brown cloth that’d contained them. Everyone jumped back.
“Huh, that new,” said Morogan.
“SADA,“ I said. “Status.”
“Processing,” said SADA. “Power system damaged. Power at one hundred percent Reason: Unknown. Seek additional parts to complete repairs.
System Status: Power MAX
Charge Time: N/A Not Charging
Temporal Shift: READY
Imbue Weapon: READY
Shielding: READY
Plasma Cannon: DAMAGED
Recharge System: Degraded
“Thasgrin,” I said. “It started acting weird after you were near it back at the training grounds. That lightning that arced off of it to your hands, I think it somehow charged itself when that happened.”
“Aye. Likely it has to do with my bloodline. SADA, recharge status.”
SADA responded, “Charging system degraded. Damage to induction system. Find replacement parts immediately.”
“Looks like I’ll have to help ye charge it when it’s empty. Shou
ldn’t be a big deal.”
“SADA, how long will the shield last at full power?” I asked.
“External projection mode: thirty seconds under heavy bombardment. Sixty seconds under light bombardment. Internal projection mode: Five to ten minutes depending on damage intake.”
“Internal projection mode?” I asked. A sublime white glow appeared around my entire body, making every nerve tingle. “Whoa.” I willed the energy away, and the body shield faded. “Can I use both at the same time?”
“Negative. However, the delay to switch is minimal,” said SADA.
“All right,” I said, “let’s get out there and do what we can to help.”
We ran up the stairs toward the top of the defense wall. Dwarves and Humans ran to and fro, frantically making preparations. Looking over the battlefield, I noticed what looked like mechanical dogs with some sort of cannons on their shoulders. Ten of them stood a ways out, firing repeatedly at the wall. One after another, they took turns firing. The wall was under a constant barrage.
“Advance troops!” yelled Thasgrin over the din of the explosions.
Garstil took up a position on one of the wall turrets, facing out toward the mountain. “Let’s get started then.” He called lightning to himself and started blasting enemies. Mechanical arms and legs flew in every direction as he went to town.
Noticing his actions, a grisly-looking Dwarf yelled down from the wall, “Get that man some mana vials!” Men rushed to fulfill his orders, and soon a supply chain kept Garstil with a constant supply of energy.
Reinforcements began to pour out of a cave in the side of the mountain. Bipedal humanoid robots, similar to the one that had judged me earlier, marched ever forward. “Destroy. Destroy. Destroy,” they repeated over and over in a deep mechanical voice.
Blasts turned toward Garstil and those near him, and he was forced to shield himself instead of attacking. I turned to Morogan. “It’s time to get our hands dirty.”
Legend of the Sword Bearer: Tempest Chronicles Book 1 Page 16