Wrack and Ruin

by Dave Willmarth

  Smitty shook his head. “I could have passed here a hundred times and not noticed this.”

  “Says a lot about your scout abilities, doesn’t it?” Dylan grinned at him, causing Red to titter on Dalia’s shoulder, where she often rode these days.

  “Remind me… how far back did that teddy bear fling your oversized arse?” Smitty smiled at the ogre. “I thought tanks were supposed to pick a spot and hold it.”

  Dylan kicked at the dirt, still sore about being bested by the bear, and mumbled something about trying to stop a freight train. Smitty just grinned and moved on after the others as they entered the cave. Which turned out to be a tunnel leading southward through the mountain. Max could barely make out a tiny pinprick of light at the far end.

  The tunnel was more than wide enough for a wagon to pass through at this end, and Picklet assured them it was the same all the way through. The ceiling was high enough that Dylan could walk upright without bumping or scraping his head, which he was grateful for.

  The tunnel turned out to be nearly two and half miles long, and about an hour after entering, they paused at the exit to adjust their eyes to the sunlight. Before them lay another valley, this one much smaller than the Blooded’s valley, and narrower. Picklet glanced at the position of the sun, which was now low over the peaks to the west, and suggested, “I know of a good spot to camp down below. We can get started again in the mornin’. There be a narrow pass through the next and final ridge, then we descend to the old road on the other side.

  Partway down the slope, Max looked back to see that the trees hid the tunnel on this side nearly as well as the rock had done at the other end.

  True to his word, Picklet led them to a small clearing on the valley floor. Ancient trees rose high above, their canopy covering all but the center of the clearing, where a ring of bowling ball-sized stones surrounded an overgrown fire pit. It only took a few moments to pull the weeds and clear out the pit while Smitty and Dylan gathered some firewood. After sharing a quiet meal and spending a little time listening Dalia tell Picklet about the markets in Darkholm, the group set out bedrolls and camped under the stars. Max took watch, needing less sleep than the others due to his high Endurance. He sat there watching over his companions, thinking he was glad that he hadn’t seen anything resembling mosquitos on this world, yet.

  There was some rustlings in the brush during the night, though Dylan’s snoring easily scared off most of the nightlife. Max assumed this valley had some kind of alpha predator of its own, but whatever it was, it didn’t make itself known. Keeping a wary eye on things anyway, Max spent the hours trying to organize his plans in his head. There were so many things he needed to take care of, and even with the assistance of his councilors, he was feeling overwhelmed.

  His merchants seemed to have a handle on the food supply, at least as long as his coin held out. Based on conversations with Redmane, and his own calculations, the money from the captured bank should hold out for a year or more. But Max knew from experience that a year went by quickly. And who knew what emergencies might arise? He needed to solidify a steady income stream for his kingdom. The gold and silver mine near the temple would help, as would the farms he planned to establish near the Brightwood, where the remainder of the dragon’s mana might produce higher crop yields and better quality.

  In the long term, he could potentially sell portal pedestals created by Glitterspindle, assuming the old gnome wasn’t too far gone to recreate them. But in the immediate future he wanted any portals that could be manufactured for his own use. The Blooded’s village wasn’t the only location he wanted instant access to. He’d need to find out from the gnome what materials were needed, and determine the cost of portal production.

  If he could locate the tomb of Nogroz, as his quest demanded, it was possible there was a significant amount of loot buried there, as well. He’d wrestle with the ethics of taking that loot if and when they got there. He could eventually profit from taking An’zalor’s city from him, but that might be years down the road. And there were mines in the underground that he’d inherited with the city. The dwarves and kobolds were working them steadily, but other than the diamonds, the profits were minimal. Mainly they were a good source of crafting material, and a way to employ a hundred or so citizens. There were more dragon bits and high-grade crafting ingredients to gather from in and around Brightwood, and some of those could bring in a decent profit. But again, he wanted to reserve most of that for his kingdom’s and his own personal use.

  Max had read in one of his favorite gamer books somewhere that a player had nearly broken the game economy by inventing an in-game cheat version of cigarettes, something that the game company had forbidden. Maybe he could do something similar? Figure out a useful tool from Earth that didn’t exist here yet. He’d have to ask Redmane whether there were such things as patents on this world.

  There were other things on his to-do backlog as well. He held soul stones in his inventory for the elite guards he’d fought during the battle for the city. He fully intended to have someone revive those guards so that he could make use of them.

  Max needed to spend more time leveling up his crafting skills. Particularly his Blacksmithing, Weaponscrafting, and Alchemy skills. When they returned to the city, he promised to spend some time with Dalia’s father, hopefully in his own newly built lab. And he’d make arrangements to spend a day or two with Master Oakstone at the keep’s forge. While he could afford, for now, to have the various master smiths in Darkholm create epic armor and weapons for him and his party, he eventually wanted to be able to do it himself. He was still a low level noob as smithing, but thanks to Dalia’s coaching and his own practice, he was nearing the apprentice level alchemist. The usefulness of potions in this world couldn’t be overstated. And with his access to prime ingredients, he should be able to level up that skill more quickly than most.

  He had just started to walk a circuit around the camp, keeping his back to the fire so that his eyes didn’t need to adjust to the darkness surrounding them, when a louder than normal sound caught his attention. The snapping of a stick, probably as it was stepped upon, maybe fifty yards out in the woods, back in the direction they had come from. Max drew his bow from his inventory and nocked an arrow, using his monster heritage darksight combined with his improved elven vision to scan between the trees in the direction of the sound. It could simply have been a deer, or a bear, but he didn’t think so.

  When the night birds in the trees went silent a moment later, he was sure. Bending to pick up a small rock, he turned and tossed it at Dylan’s head. The object struck the ogre’s cheek, causing him to wake with a grunt and a sputter. The experienced soldier’s eyes immediately found Max, who put a finger to his lips, then pointed out into the woods. A couple quick hand signals later, and Dylan nodded.

  Max advanced into the forest, bow at the ready, moving as quietly as he could. Which wasn’t saying much. Despite his elven and stonetalon heritage, he still hadn’t gotten the hang of moving stealthily through a forest. Behind him, Dylan quietly woke the others with nudges and whispers. Smitty was already on his feet and moving out into the forest to flank whatever was out there, moving much more quietly than Max. The others were equipping weapons and spreading out behind the fire, Dylan watching their backs as the dwarf and the dworc watched Max disappear behind a large tree.

  Aware that he wasn’t fooling anyone, Max gave up on the idea of stealth, stood still, and simply spoke into the night. “Whoever you are, show yourself.” He might as well make himself as much of a distraction as possible, to make it easier for Smitty to circle around unnoticed.

  His ears picked up a sharp intake of breath ahead of him and slightly to his right. Raising his bow, he spoke again. “You have five seconds to show yourself before I start shooting.”

  Almost immediately, a small figure emerged from behind a tree. Only about three feet tall, Max initially mistook it for a goblin. When it emerged into a small pool of moonlight, he got a better look,
and lowered his bow? “What are you doing here?”

  “I… I am sorry, great King Max!” a small dworc child stepped closer, hands in the air in front of her. “I only wanted to see your city! And you did say that any of my people were welcome to join you…”

  Smitty stepped out of the woods behind the girl, causing her to jump and emit a small scream before she recognized him. He wasted no time, scooping her up and carrying her over one shoulder as he walked toward Max. Both of them returned to the campfire, where Smitty set down the now tearful child. She stood there, back straight and shoulders back, acting defiant even as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

  As soon as Picklet got a look at her, he growled, “Teeglin, what are you doing here?”

  The girl spun to face him, scowling. “King Max said anyone was welcome! When I heard that, I ran to get my things, but by the time I returned, you had already left. I tracked you across the valley, but lost your trail among the rocks. It took me a little while to find the tunnel entrance and catch up.”

  “You should be back at the village.” Picklet sighed. “I assume the elders do not know you’ve followed us?” When the little girl looked guilty and shook her head, he stepped forward and knelt down in front of her. “It’s dangerous out in the wilds at night. What were you thinking, child?”

  “By the time it got dark, I was already at the tunnel!” She protested. “It would not have been any safer to go back than to keep following you.”

  “She’s got a point there.” Smitty smiled at the brave child. “Got guts, too.”

  Ignoring him, Picklet asked, “But why follow us now?”

  “Why not?” Her eyes dropped to focus on her feet. “There’s nothing for me in the village anymore. Everyone kept staring at me and shaking their heads… I… didn’t like it.”

  Picklet looked up at Max and the others. “Her father was one of those lost in our fight with the bear. Her mother died in childbirth.” He shook his head. “It happens much too often among the Blooded. Our races were not meant to breed together, and complications often arise.”

  Max’s heart went out to the little orphan. From her appearance, she was clearly more dwarf than orc. Guessing she was maybe ten years old, her small stature and pale skin, combined with tusks that were understated compared to most of the villagers, told him that her mother likely leaned even further toward their dwarf heritage.

  He too got down on a knee, capturing the girl’s attention. “You understand that what you did was wrong? Besides the danger to yourself, your village is probably worried sick about you. They may even be out searching the valley at night, trying to find you.”

  She shook her head. “No, they won’t. Even if they noticed I’m gone, we have strict rules. They will wait until morning to search for me.” Max gave Picklet a quick glance, one eyebrow raised in question. The dworc nodded, confirming the girl’s words.

  “The valley has always been a dangerous place. Even more so at night. We stay inside the walls when the sun is down, and any caught outside in the dark know that they are on their own until morning.”

  “Survival of the fittest.” Dylan mumbled from where he sat by the fire.

  “Indeed.” Picklet agreed. “There are no weaklings among the Blooded. The weak are challenged, until they become strong, or perish. It is our way.”

  After fighting old Cantankerous, Max couldn’t say that he blamed them for their way of life. Though it may seem harsh on its surface, he understood the need. Any weak link in a time of trouble might spell the deaths of others, even the whole village.

  “I can fight!” Teeglin declared, a dagger appearing in her right hand, just inches from Max’s face. She bared her tiny, rounded tusks and narrowed her eyes in what she imagined to be a battle visage. To Max she just looked adorable.

  Humoring her, he fell onto his backside, feigning fear as he widened his eyes and held up his hands. “Whoa! Careful there, little warrior. No need to cut my nose off!”

  She instantly lowered the weapon, putting both hands behind her back. “Sorry.” She mumbled. “But it’s true. I can fight better than any of the younglings! Take me with you, and I can be your bodyguard! Make sure nobody sneaks up on you like I just did!” She stuck her chin out, eyes blazing.

  “Ha!” Smitty grinned at the little girl. When he saw that his laughter hurt her feelings, he added, “I like it, boss. Tiny ninja bodyguard! Every king should have one!”

  Beaming now, the girl looked from Smitty back to Max, hope shining in her eyes.

  Max shook his head. “Well, we can’t very well take the time to escort you back, and I’m certainly not going to send you home on your own. Technically, I did say anyone was welcome to join us. So I suppose we’ll bring you along with us to Stormhaven.” He smiled as she hopped up and down with excitement. “But for now, go curl up by the fire. You’ve been up all night, and we have a busy day tomorrow.”

  The girl nodded her head, and Dalia motioned for Teeglin to take a spot next to her own bedroll. In just a minute she was situated and stretched out between a protective Dalia and Picklet, smiling happily as she rested her head and closed her eyes.

  *****

  The group let the youngling sleep well past dawn, quietly going about camp business, feeding the fire and cooking breakfast, then packing up their gear as they waited for her. Smitty left to see what game he might find, while Dalia and Max spent an hour making more potions, and Dylan kept watch. Picklet quietly told them about Teeglin’s parents. Her mother had indeed favored her dwarven heritage, and had been a leatherworker before she passed. Her father was a warrior, and a veteran of many battles. When he was at home, he worked as a mason, improving the walls and homes within the village.

  Max and the others also learned more about the clan. There were nearly a dozen orphans that were raised by the entire village. Each of them was fostered in a family home, and as soon as they were old and strong enough, were given odd jobs to perform. At age twelve, they were apprenticed to one of the crafters, or went to live in the barracks to train as warriors. The clan remained small due to a higher than normal mortality rate at birth, for both mother and child. Combined with losses to local predators, occasional lethal personal conflicts, and the usual infections and diseases, the clan was left with small hope of growth.

  Dalia, who seemed exceptionally interested in the genetic aspect of their woes, asked in a whisper, “Would it help ye to add some fresh bloodlines? Like pureblood dwarves or orcs?”

  Picklet flinched at the word pureblood, but quickly shook it off. “It be hard to say. Me da believes that the answer lay in further diluting our blood. Y’see…” He paused and blushed slightly as he looked at Dalia. “The main problem be that dwarven females, as tough as they be, were not meant to birth orc babies. The strain on them be… significant. And the delivery be dangerous. Orc babies be nearly twice the size of dwarf babes at birth.”

  Now it was Dalia’s turn to wince. She nodded her understanding. “So new orc blood might make things harder on those with more dwarflike bodies. What about new dwarf blood?”

  Again, Picklet shook his head. “We just don’t know.”

  “I’m going to marry King Max and have chimera babies.” A sleepy Teeglin announced as she got up from her bedroll. “I will be Queen Teeglin, and we will have many little princes and princesses!”

  “Hush, child!” Picklet scolded, while Dylan and Dalia laughed.

  Max did his best to keep a serious face for her. “Well, while you are quite lovely, little one… I’m afraid I’m a bit too old for you.” He stuck out his bottom lip, trying to look sad.

  Determined, Teeglin just shook her head as she sat down and accepted a kabob from a smiling Dalia. “You’ll see, I’ll grow up fast! And I’ll be the best warrior in your kingdom. You won’t find a better queen than me!”

  “Well, how could I resist a beauty like you who is also a great warrior?” Max grinned, patting her on the head, much to her annoyance. “Let’s see what happens in fifteen
years or so.”

  Quickly changing the subject, Picklet growled at the girl. “Eat quickly, and pack up your things. The rest of us have been up since dawn. We have much ground to cover today, and you have very short legs!”

  Grunting in indignation, the girl chomped down on the end of the kabob closest to her fingers, cleaning the entire stick off in one bite. Speaking around the mouthful of meat, she said, “I’ll keep up!” as she got to her feet and stomped over to her bedroll. By the time she was done chewing and swallowing the mouthful, her bedroll was packed up, and she stood ready with a small bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows at her belt.

  Once again Picklet led the way, heading southward across the remainder of the valley.

  The remainder of their trip went more quickly than Max expected. True to her word, Teeglin kept up, though Picklet set a slightly slower pace than the day before. Smitty and Dylan bracketed the child as they walked, educating her on the fine art of knock knock jokes. She was enchanted, as was Dalia, both of them giggling at the most ridiculous of jokes the two soldiers could conceive. Walking behind them, Max just shook his head.

  They crossed over the pass through the final mountain ridge, finding themselves looking down over the same vast forest where Max had appeared on this new world. According to his map, they were west of the outpost be several miles. He took over the lead position and continued south through the trees until they reached the road. From there, it was a simple matter to follow the overgrown stone path back to where the hidden outpost entrance was.

  As they got closer, he told them the story of his first encounter with the goblins, and his attempt to secure the door. They all laughed when they reached the doorway with his likeness burned into the stone. “Looks just like you!” Teeglin giggled.

  Max looked over the stone, searching for a particular mark. He’d had a report from Redmane that a few of his dwarven engineers had taken the time to repair the door’s locking mechanism and hinges, leaving a mark that would tell him where to press on the stone to open the door. When he finally found the mark, he snorted.