by T. A. Uner
“You alright, Ram?”
Fabian turned toward his friend. “Yes, I was just thinking about my family.”
“Yes, I can imagine you are.” Soon the road widened as they approached the center of Diamond Town. Gambling Halls, Taverns and various shops appeared around them. Up ahead an inn soon revealed itself and they halted right outside it before two stable boys greeted them and took their horses. “Make sure you feed them good,” Lager said, he flicked two thick coins at each boy who thanked him for his generosity and took the creatures to be cleaned and fed.
“I didn’t know holographic horses required food and nourishment,” Fabian said.
Lager smiled. “Yes but they don’t know that.”
Inside the inn a thin man with half-moon spectacles called out to Lager. “I never thought I’d see you again, Commander McVick. Have you returned to lose more of your money?”
“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t rig the tables to win all the time,” Lager replied before shaking the innkeeper’s hand. “Fabian, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Jax Dixon, innkeeper and scoundrel extraordinaire.”
Jax extended his hand to Fabian who reached out to find it before their hands met one another. Jax shot Lager a puzzled look but did not say anything. “Fabian and I are wondering why this place is like a graveyard, last time I was here it was packed, and the street folk were more welcoming.”
Jax’s face became morose. “After the Golden Mane was stolen, a general panic ensued. Shortly afterward the Stock Market crashed, and most of the miners in the hills packed up and left. People are losing faith in the King and his subjects for allowing an outlaw warlord to come in and steal our eminent keepsake.”
“Yes, terrible, terrible crime,” Fabian added.
“And that’s not the worst of it,” Jax added. “The 5th Army passed through here yesterday, they had been recently routed by the Black Wasps—that’s the Blood Reeper’s Elite Cavalry. Turns out Rek’s eastern frontier is now crawling with troops serving Bone Keep. Well the 5th Army is now on its way north east to Fork Ridge, to meet up with the 2nd and 9th Armies. Rumor has it that they’re planning a massive counter-attack to drive the Reeper’s troops out of Eastern Rek.”
“I had no idea it was that bad,” Lager said. Jax brought two ales for Fabian and Lager.
“Some of the other merchants bought out their leases and are preparing to move their businesses up north. The Northern Empire is now accepting immigrants and even I’ve been asked if I want to relocate by the Northern Merchant Guild.”
“You can’t leave Diamond Town, Jax. The economy needs you.”
“I know, this has been my home since I was a youngin’, but I’ve got a wife and three little ones to think of, Lager. Making money is great, but you can’t do business if you’re dead.”
Fabian listened closely to the ensuing conversation. His homelands were under massive invasion. Most of his people, his family included, would be overrun and killed, or worse, enslaved by an aggressive warlord who now reigned supreme in the Darklands. Other warlords had challenged Rek in the past, but none had been bold enough to launch massive coordinated attacks against a sovereign nation like Rek. The loss of the Golden Mane, combined with the Blood Reeper’s invasion force had weakened Rek in more ways than one, and, emboldened the evil from the Darklands to spread beyond its borders. Fabian feared that if the Mane wasn’t recovered soon, there might not be a Rek left to save. He sipped his ale, it tasted sour in his mouth but the alcohol relaxed his nerves. His nose picked up the smell of roasted nuts and he reached over toward a small bowl on the bar counter and fed Matilda some before turning his attention back to the heated conversation that had developed between Lager and Jax.
“What do you mean you won’t help? We need you and your fancy pants Earth weapons to tip the balance; Lager, you may be a terrible gambler but by Rek’s Sun you’re the greatest warrior on the planet.”
“I’ve already had this conversation with the King, Jax, it’s too risky, besides, Rek’s not finished yet, there’s still the Gold Quest: one of the King’s champions is bound to retrieve the Mane from Bone Keep.”
Jax scoffed at this. “Bah! Bunch of pleasure seekers and fortune hunters. They’re bound to either get themselves killed. Even if they find the Mane what’s to prevent them from auctioning it off to the highest bidder? Even if it’s symbolic, it represents the power of the Gold Sun.”
Fabian was concerned the disagreement would get even uglier. But then the door to the inn burst open and the rumbling of feet chased away the still air. Four men burst in, wearing stained overalls and dented helmets; two carried picks. They had detained a short-haired young girl wearing muddied red robe and cape, a black spade patch sewn on her shoulder. She was draped in chains, and her hands bound. “What in dark hell is this?” Jax said.
“We caught her stealing from the mines, Jax,” one of the miners said. He had a puffy white beard that was streaked with black coal dust.
“So why’d you bring her here, Micah?” Jax asked the bearded miner. “Does my inn look like some blasted prison?”
“Well the Sheriff’s office is closed, so, since your head of the town militia we figured you know what to do with her.”
Lager rose from his seat. “She’s just a teenager, do you really have to chain her up like
that?”
Micah scowled. “Teenager? She a tenacious little vixen; nearly bit off Louie’s finger when he tried to cuff her. Took all four of us to restrain her, stranger.”
“Well the Sheriff’s gone to Outville for the day to recruit new deputies, all three of his were conscripted by the 5th army when they passed through here.” Jax rubbed his chin. “Take her to the storage room in the back, Micah. I have a cell there I use for slaughter pigs. We can keep her in there until the Sheriff gets back from Outville.”
Fabian didn’t like the idea of a young girl being put in an animal cell, even if she did steal like the miner said, she deserved to be heard. Rek’s laws guaranteed prisoners the right to defend themselves before trial. “You can’t put a human in a pig cell!” Lager restrained him and tried to calm him down.
Jax looked the girl up and down. “Why were you stealing from the mines, girl?”
The young girl looked up at Jax, her eyes filled with defiance. One of the miners kicked her in the ribs and she doubled over, but she quickly recovered, rose, grabbed the miner’s ankle and twisted it. The man screamed in pain while his three friends separated him and the girl.
“Leave her alone!” Fabian said.
Lager grabbed his arm and restrained him. “I don’t like what they’re doing to that girl either, Ram, but we can’t get involved, we’ve got a mission, remember?”
“Doesn’t mean I have to stand here and do nothing about it, isn’t that what being a hero is about, Lager? Defending those who cannot defend themselves?”
“Being a hero, Ram, is about knowing when to act, and when not to act.” Jax ordered the miners to take the girl to the storage room, she stared at Fabian as they took her to the back entrance. This time her eyes weren’t filled with defiance, they were filled with a silent plea for help.
II
After the girl had been taken away Lager asked for a large room. Jax, happy to have customers during desperate times, gave them the largest room inside his inn. It was on the top floor .Lager inspected it and nodded his approval.
“This is perfect.”
“Perfect for what, Lager?” Fabian was still thinking about the girl and hoped the miners wouldn’t take their frustrations out on her further.
“Perfect for training.” The living room had a spacious floor made from Spicewood, which gave off a sweet smell that Fabian found pleasing. It also featured two spacious bedrooms and a large shuttered window with a view of the town square. Ticks after they entered the room two female attendants asked if they would like a hot bath and meal. Even Matilda was given special treatment and Fabian decided to take his mind off of the events downst
airs at the bar.
After they had been bathed and cleaned with warm water and the finest bath oils, the attendants dried Fabian and Lager off with soft towels made from the softest cotton and massaged their sore bodies before helping them into robes.
“You still thinking about that girl, Ram?”
“How can I not, Lager? You saw how they treated her. I may be blind but I’m not deaf to the abuse she had to endure.”
“Well clear your mind, Ram, we’ve got work to do.”
Fabian was curious. “Work?”
Lager nodded. They changed into soft linen tunics provided by the attendants, who took their travel-stained clothes to the laundry for wash. Lager drew a strange-looking plate-mail piece from his travel pack. “Here, try this on, Ram.” Lager handed the shirt to Fabian.
He ran his hand across its surface. It felt smooth, forged with the precision of finely-crafted armor. He slipped it on and felt his body relax. “Did you make this from the Spirit Stone? It’s quite light.”
“Yes it is. Do you like it, Ram?” Lager reached into his pack and pulled out two greaves. “I also engraved Ram’s head on the breastplate.”
“I love it,” Fabian replied. “I take it this is part of my new look?”
Lager attached the greaves to Fabian’s shins and handed him greaves which fit perfectly. His arms and legs felt different, as if the muscles in all four limbs were lighter, yet stronger. He heard Lager withdrawing more items from the pack. “This is your helm; I crafted it in the shape of a Ram’s head to fit your new image.” Fabian’s heart raced as he traced the shape of the helm with his right finger. It was smooth like the breastplate, and light to the touch. He felt the ridges engraved on the curled Ram horns and slipped the helm on his head. His eyes felt strange for a few ticks before Lager pulled the face-plate down and it snapped into place. At first Fabian thought it would be hot and stuffy, but the helm felt light like the armor and greaves and he could breathe easily through the Ram Face’s nostrils and mouth vent. He felt his confidence soar. No wonder the soldiers of Tork used Spirit Stone for their armor and weapons, it was an invaluable asset that gave their troops a major psychological advantage in battle. “I didn’t know you were such an impressive craftsman, Lager.”
Lager laughed. “I graduated an Engineer from Star School and my first assignment was Chief Engineer’s aide on a Star Frigate. I’ve always been good building things with my hands. Now, Ram, I’ve got two more things to give you.”
Lager handed him a sword belt. “This is your sword, Ram.” Fabian drew the sword and made two cuts in the air. The blade, like its armor counterpart felt light in his hand, yet it possessed a strength Fabian felt was hidden within its components. He sheathed it and Lager handed him another weapon. “Your crook doesn’t command the same respect this Ram staff will. Like your helm, its head is fashioned in the shape of a Ram’s head. You can use it to attack your opponent, or to defend, much easier to handle then a shield, lighter too.”
As soon as Fabian took possession of his new staff his head felt dizzy and he nearly lost his footing. But the disorientation lasted for a few ticks and his head cleared. When he regained his balance his vision had been miraculously restored.
“Are you alright, Ram?”
“Lager, you’re not going to believe this but…I can see!”
Lager shot Fabian a baffled look. “What do you mean you ‘can see’?”
“See!” Fabian said. “With my own two eyes!” He scanned the room and everything looked so elegant. From the luxurious bed to the Spicewood floors, and the comfortable padded rocking chair in the corner of the large room. He looked down and saw Matilda for the first time in his young life: she had a thick white coat of fur and black patches over both her brown eyes which stared up at him lovingly. He hugged her and her tail was wagging profusely while she licked the surface of his new helm. When he looked up he saw Lager for the first time. He was tall and had broad shoulders, just like Fabian imagined, and an unshaved square jaw that made up a solemn, yet surprised face. “I can see you too Lager, you’re exactly as I pictured you’d be.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Ram.” Lager rubbed his chin. “You think it’s the armor?”
“I wonder if it’s enchanted.” Fabian handed the helm to Lager and as soon as it left his hands his vision blurred, and the world around him darkened like a thunder cloud. His spirits, which were so high a moment ago, returned to normal. “I think it is. No wonder Tork’s elite troops are hailed as the best in the world, with armor and weapons made from Spirit Stone, they’d be nearly unbeatable.”
“Too bad it’s extremely rare. While you were outside loading the new supplies onto Starspeed, that merchant who sold this to me in Outville told me that Spirit Stone exists in rare quantities. In the Tork Hegemony it can only be mined from one particular cavern. Its location is a closely guarded secret and nobody but Tork’s Chancellor and a few trusted members of its council know the exact location.”
“I can imagine why,” Fabian said. Lager gave him back the helm and instantly his vision returned. The dizziness returned, but it was not as bad as the first time. Perhaps it took a while before his body fully acclimated to the Spirit Stone armor.
“Well, now that we know a good deal more about Spirit Stone, perhaps now’s a good time for sparring.”
***
The training exercises began soon after. Lager donned protective training gear and began training Fabian in hand-to-hand combat. First, with the staff, so Fabian could observe the five main combat techniques: Takedowns, Combination moves, Disarms, Slashes, and Final Blow. They practiced until Fabian began showing basic proficiency. “You’re a fast learner, Ram,” Lager said. “I knew you were strong when I had to pry your fingers off that merchant’s neck. Besides, if we find ourselves in close combat, these techniques will prove useful. But remember, Final Blow should only be used in desperate situations.”
Then they rested for a short while before Lager tested Fabian with a sparring exercise. Fabian demonstrated a speed he did not know he possessed. And Lager was impressed at his young friend’s physical conditioning—no doubt a result of all those years working on the plains as a shepherd alongside his father, plus the extensive fieldwork during planting season.
They resumed training. This time Fabian didn’t have his Ram staff and had to rely purely on instinct and his advanced senses. Lager provided red padded gloves which enabled Fabian to learn an ancient Earth sport called boxing. Lager claimed it had been extremely popular during Earth’s 20th century period; now it was simply practiced for recreation and fun. Fabian learned how to take punches and dish out boxing attacks: Jabs, Uppercuts, right crosses, and hooks soon became second nature to him. He also enjoyed unleashing haymakers, but Lager warned him against using those types of punches too frequently. “They should only be used when your opponent’s stamina is exhausted, and his spirit broken.”
Matilda watched intently as her master transformed right before her eyes: from a rural boy with little world experience, to a young man who was capable of defending himself against challenging opponents. When the training stopped both Fabian and Lager were ready for another round of baths and massages. Then, after Lager had drank his fill of Ale for the night, he and Fabian retired to their bedrooms, to rest their weary bodies after a demanding day.
***
Fabian had troubling sleeping that night. Thoughts of the young girl downstairs in the cell occupied his mind. Matilda lay next to him on the bed and he stroked her back while she rested her face on his chest. “I can’t let her sit there, Matty.” Matilda looked up at Fabian and wagged her tail. “I mean, she’s a helpless young girl all alone. It just isn’t right.” He knew how she must feel. Alone in that cell, at the mercy of whatever justice remained in Diamond Town.
He wanted to learn more about her, and how she had become so desperate as to steal to live. He slipped on his armor and weapons and donned his helm. Fabian did not feel dizzy this time, but he still h
ad many questions about the alloy of Spirit Stone. He wished Tildon was here so he could ask him.
He tip-toed quietly out of his room to avoid waking Lager, but the Earthman was sound asleep, and Fabian’s ears could probably pick up Lager’s snores from leagues away. He slowly made his way down the corridor of the top floor, Matilda beside him, and navigated the stairs until he reached the ground floor. Fabian’s eyesight scanned the time dial hanging on the wall, it would be daylight soon. They were in the last hour of night. He wondered how he could know that, he knew how to tell time of course, but only with his hands, perhaps his special armor had something to do with that as well.
He made his way past the larder and into the storage room. He was surprised at the lack of human presence, even this late at night. Finally he approached the cell. His enhanced eyes saw the girl laying inside her cage, a single taper offering dim yellow light. He quietly approached her, Matilda understood the need for discretion and she too kept quiet.
“I could hear you all the way from the top floor,” said a female voice.
Fabian looked around, figuring he had been discovered, but realized it was coming from the girl. “I’m a bit surprised though,” the girl said as she picked herself up and wrapped her red cape around her thin frame. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“To check up on you; see if you needed anything?”
“Who are you?” She grasped the cell’s bars and the rankling sound of her chains reverberated inside his head.
He raised his faceplate, and looked at her with his sightless eyes.
“You’re the boy who stood up for me earlier today, when those idiot miners were trying to subdue me.”