Dragon Seed: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (The Archemi Online Chronicles Book 1)

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “Hey! Cutthroat, watch ou- oh.” I watched as my champion destrier hookwing, bred for battle for generations, rammed herself into the palisade, screeching as she attacked the village’s protective wall in a brand new round of pointless rage.

  Hour by hour, my fantasy of pulling awesome stunts on the back of a dinosaur seemed increasingly remote. I shook my head and rubbed the bridge of my nose as her shrieks and the whump of scaly feet hitting the fence rocked the air. “Well, okay. You just… you do you, girl.”

  I returned to find the rescue and repair in full swing. The surviving villagers were putting out smaller fires and laying out the corpses of their fellows in carts. A young priest was giving the fallen a final blessing, his eyes full of tears as he clumsily recited from a slim book of prayers. At a bit of a loss, I wandered off to find Kira and her father at the herbalist’s hut – easily now the most crowded building in the village.

  The house only had two rooms, and they were packed. People huddled with dressings pressed to their injuries, or lay stretched out on the floor, some hurt, others dying. Kira and Owen were treating those with the worst injuries with an array of herbs and potions. None of them seem to be having quite the same miraculous effect that my poultices and mint potions did for me.

  "Ser! Can you go into the garden and get me lobelia?" Kira called to me. "As much as you can carry."

  I felt a flash of panic. "I… have no idea what lobelia is?"

  "It's a flower," Kira replied. She had her hands pressed over a cloth, leaning her weight down onto a semiconscious man's abdomen. "It’s violet, with three large petals and two small ones and narrow, watery stems. It looks like a little rabbit with wings."

  Her description caused my HUD to ping. [New Knowledge: Lobelia C]

  "I'm on it." Flying rabbit flowers. Okay then. Armed with my newfound knowledge, I hopped over rows of moaning people and hurried for the garden behind the house.

  The herbalist’s garden was packed with plants. I frantically ran down the narrow garden path, searching the beds for the right plant. The HUD helpfully highlighted the few plants that I did know – mint, basil, parsley, daisies – and to my great relief, the lobelia. It was a big, round, bushy plant with pretty, deep blue-violet flowers like Kira had described. They really did look like purple bunnies with little bee wings. I slung my spear back over my shoulder and used my knife to hack and cut away as much of the lobelia as I could carry. I left the poor bush looking like the half-finished Death Star.

  "Here!" I reached Kira's side and knelt down, handing her fistfuls of flowers and stems. She took them, threw them into a mortar with a dash of bright liquid and a pinch of powder, then ground them together. I watched curiously as the flowers transformed into a uniform blue paste, which she applied liberally to the man's open chest wound. Several seconds passed. Then his eyes opened and he drew a deep breath. He was still out of it, but the plant got him breathing, like some kind of herbal defibrillator.

  "Is that what lobelia is used for?" I asked, taking the blood-soaked bandage when she passed it back. "A magical resuscitation herb?"

  "Lobelia can restart a man's heart if he's close to death, but his heart must have only just stopped beating." Biting her lip with concentration, Kira reached for a bowl of wet poultices, brushing past me in a tumble of sweet smelling, dark wavy hair. She peeled off the covering the man’s abdomen and took it off to reveal organs that were doing their best to be external rather than internal. She slapped down a poultice over that mess, and reapplied the cloth and pushed my hands over it. "Hold this."

  "Yes ma'am." Nothing like bonding over some spilled guts, as my old Sergeant used to say.

  For hours, we moved from person to person. While Owen mixed, Kira and I applied. Now and then, one of us had to run out to the rapidly-depleting garden, but one by one, lives were saved and sometimes lost. I had mixed feelings about the amount of skill XP I earned. It was a lot, leveling me to Foraging 3 and Survival 4, and giving me my first levels in new skills: Healing (Field Medicine) and Herbalism. By the time we were done, everyone who had assisted was exhausted. The volunteers drifted away, but I had nowhere to go, so I waited around and helped clean up until it was completely dark outside.

  "Do you have an inn here?" Setting a wooden bucket down, I slumped to a crouch beside it. "Somewhere I could sleep and get something to eat?"

  "Yes, but don't even think about it." Owen looked over at me, his eyes hawkish and piercing by candlelight. "You're an adventurer, is that right?"

  "That I am," I replied.

  "Not from here, are you?"

  I shook my head. "Nope. I'm from Tungaant. A land from over the ocean."

  Father and daughter both turned pale and drew an infinity symbol across their chests from shoulder to shoulder.

  "The Hells," Owen muttered.

  "You're joking! Did you fly here?" Keira exclaimed. "How do you get across the ocean?"

  "On a dragon, actually." I grinned, and scratched the back of my head.

  Kira's excitement grew, while her father looked disapprovingly at me. She threw down the rag she'd been using to clean the floor and came over to join me. Now that I actually had time to look at her, I could see she was very pretty. Her hair fell to her waist, and she had eyes that were still warm despite everything she'd done and seen tonight. Her skin was well-tanned, and she had a light smattering of freckles across her nose.

  "Did you see any demons?" she asked eagerly. "What is the ocean like? They say you can hear the souls of the dead calling from the waves."

  "Kira," Owen admonished. "Come now, this is not talk that should be bandied about after something like what happened tonight. You, sir, I didn't even have time to get your name."

  "Dragozin Hector," I said, bowing from the neck. "Uhh... Hector's my first name."

  "I can't help but notice that your wounds healed," Owen said. His voice had hardened. "Completely, and with hardly any attention. Are you a mage?"

  "I'm way too dumb to be a mage," I replied, unable to keep from smiling. "I'm Starborn."

  Owen's eyes bugged, but Kira nodded, satisfied. "That's how you made it over the ocean, then. There isn't any demon that could kill a Starborn."

  "That's ridiculous." The older man's voice rose with disbelief. "Are you telling me that you're some kind of legend? That you can come back from the dead?"

  "I can and I have." I rolled my shoulders and stretched my arms. They ached, like the rest of my body. "Doesn't mean it feels good, though. And I still feel pain, and still get tired. On that note, let me repeat: is there somewhere here that I could get something to eat and a place to sleep?"

  Owen glanced between me and Kira, and I could see him sizing up whether or not it was safe for him to leave me alone with her. "Me and you can go over to May’s tavern and set you up with food and beer, if that suits you. It's the least we could do for the help you gave us."

  "I'll come too," Kira said. "I could use some ale after a night like this."

  I could see that her father wanted to argue, but he was too tired. He sighed and grumbled, but nodded. "We'll go together. And you will be coming home tonight, girl. No dallying."

  Kira laughed, and shook her head. "'Girl' he says. I just spent four hours putting people back together, and he calls me a girl? Do you think I'm some kind of blushing maiden, Father? That I faint at the sight of blood?"

  "You'll always be a girl to me," Owen said, but there was humor underneath the grumpy old man front. "I remember when you used to dribble grain soup all down the front of your pinafore-"

  "Dad!" Kira blushed.

  I watched on with some amusement, and a little sadness. My father had never been that protective of me. "Don't worry, Mister...?"

  "No Mister. Just Owen."

  "Well, don't worry about a thing, either of you," I said. "I have no designs on anyone’s virtue. Give me a beer and point me in the direction of the nearest horizontal surface, and I will pass the fuck out. Pardon my language."

  Kira harrump
hed, and crossed her arms.

  "No need to pardon yourself. Gods know I curse when the mood strikes," Owen replied. And then something curious happened. His name – which I could see when I focused on him – went from gray to gold, and a small Skill icon appeared beside his ear. Kira had the same thing going on, but I hadn't seen it earlier. I must've been staring, because she cocked her head.

  "Is something the matter?" she asked.

  I startled back out of the HUD overlay, refocusing on the world around me. "No, nothing's wrong. But I was wondering... When either of you have some time, would you be willing to teach me more about medicine and herbs?"

  "Sure," Kira said. "We have to do the rounds of the injured tomorrow morning. You can come with me and I'll teach you what I know."

  "I think not," Owen scoffed. "I'll give him a tour of the garden while you work. You don't need any distractions."

  "Dad-"

  "You're still an apprentice, Kira. That's how we're doing it."

  Kira huffed, slinging a cloak around her shoulders, eyeing me sidelong. “You never let me do anything fun.”

  Chapter 22

  May's Tavern was surprisingly full. Those people who were now homeless were eating and sleeping here, while others had come to drink to their victory or drown their sorrow and terror. The big L-shaped building had a small singed hole in its roof, but as we stepped inside, the warmth and rich smells of liquor, ale, garlic, fresh bread, and savory meat washed over us. My stomach growled. Oh, right: I hadn't eaten anything for nearly ten hours.

  A row of shuttered windows ran along the far wall of the inn. An open kitchen was behind a long oak bar, taking up the far quarter of the tavern room to my left. It faced double rows of tables and benches where people talked, played cards, and ate like starving wolves. Clean straw littered the floor, and stained-glass lamps illuminated shelves of bottles. The waitresses were busy, pulling tankards of dark, fragrant ale and cider from chrome taps. Despite the losses to Lyrensgrove, the tavern was nearly full. Eyes were sunken and faces careworn, but in the end, the village had won and everyone knew it was something to celebrate.

  "I hope you can drink, adventurer. What do you want?" Owen asked me. "The first five are on me, if you can handle more than one."

  "My bladder will give out before my liver does." With all the self-assurance of a soldier who had recently been on tour drinking his way around the world, I swaggered up to the bar slightly ahead of Kira and thumped my fists down on the top. "As for what I want, what do you recommend?"

  " May's firebrew cider is the best this side of the Oerthe River!" Owen drew up beside me, and to my surprise, threw a friendly arm around my shoulder. "May! May, this is the adventurer who came in swinging for us today!"

  May turned out to be one of the older-looking women working behind the bar. She was small-framed, with long blonde hair done up in braids, and a homely but open face. She smiled broadly at Owens words. "I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me. Who'd have thought this long-haired, distinctly foreign gentlemen wasn't one of our boys come in from the field?"

  "You have to forgive Dad," Kira replied, squinting her eyes like a smug cat. "He's getting a bit funny in his old age."

  Owen puffed up a little. "Still strong enough to fight off the rabble!"

  “Yes, Da.” Kira held up three fingers to the tavern's owner. "Three of your best, May. To the brim."

  “Just as well I like cider,” I remarked.

  "Of course it'll be to the brim, and don't you even think of giving me coin." The last was directed at me, and May's tone brooked no argument. "I was locked in the granary with Kira and Bertrand, and I don't doubt that I owe you my life." May briskly moved to the taps and set out three tankards still damp from being recently washed. "And let me guess: none of you have eaten, and you're more than long past due for something in your bellies other than ale." She turned her head as she poured, calling back to the cook. "Lyra! Three bowls!”

  We took a table, followed by a barmaid who plunked down three big mugs of sweet-smelling, cold, frothy cider. My throat was dry. I lifted my tankard and had a swallow to take the foam off. I expected to be grossed out at how sugary it was, but it was nothing like the glorified fruit soda I was used to. It was rich with the taste of fresh apples and molasses, and hit my belly like a warm, spreading flame.

  “So, where to from here?” Kira took a pull off her mug, and her face immediately flushed. “It’s still a warzone in these parts.”

  I nodded. “I noticed. I’m headed-”

  My words were cut off by a round of cheers at the bar. Three very drunk men gathered in a cluster had just received their drinks, and were shouting at the top of their lungs. “Long live the King!”

  The King? As in, the ‘Mad King’? I stopped talking, watching Kira’s and Owen’s moods shift from exhausted but relaxed to high-strung and scowling in an instant. They both looked at me as May began chewing the group out.

  “Not in my place, you lot! Not after tonight! That’s the last of this talk, you hear?” There was a note of panic in the woman’s voice.

  “Ugh.” Kira shrunk onto her seat. Owen was tight-lipped.

  “What?” I cocked my head. “What was that about?”

  “Politics. Don’t worry yourself.” Owen grimaced, glancing over his shoulder at the racket. “Now, what was it you wanted to know about herbs?”

  "Pretty much everything," I said. "I'm good at cooking, but I've got no experience with potions and herbs."

  "If you want to stop from dying when someone sticks you, you can start with bonebreak," Kira piped up. "Comfrey. It's good for cuts, that sort of thing. Garlic stops wounds from going bad, but you can't use too much of it or it will make someone sick. And there's balm and hyssop…"

  By the time we left the tavern, my alchemy knowledge base had swelled to about twenty items, most of them herbs. Some of them were familiar, such as garlic, strawberries, garlic, and onions. Others were definitely fantasy plants, unique to Archemi. Moontears, a yellow drooping berry which was ground into a paste for burns; and starling, a stiff green shrub with spiny little fruits that could be boiled, mashed, and used to dull pain. There was no room in the tavern, so I went back with the healers to their home and slept on a rough mattress of straw and one of Owen's cloaks in front of the fire. It was surprisingly comfortable, and after a tankard and a half of the excellent cider, sleep came easily. I dreamt of flying on a beautiful white dragon like Talenth, the wind whipping my face and arms as we soared over an endless desert. In the distance, there was an oasis that we never seem to reach.

  I stirred to the sound of bells: the deep, melodic tolling of church bells. The sound cascaded from somewhere outside of the hut, rolling through Lyrensgrove with the pale dawn light. The straw and wool cloak felt very real and very warm, as did the chilly air. I stretched and yawned, semi-consciously searching for the deviations from RL. There were a few changes that stood out. My joints didn’t pop when I moved, for one thing. For another, a red envelope icon flashed in the corner of my eye.

  I called the HUD, yawning again - deeper, this time - and went to the message center. There were two ‘Unread’ icons. The first message was from Temperance, while the other was a forwarded announcement from the Dev Team. Weird that they hadn’t just sent it to me directly.

  Temperance’s message was titled: “Physical Body Status”. My skin crawled with a nasty cold creep when I considered what the email was about, so I opened the Dev Team forward first.

  Good Morning, Players!

  We hope you’re enjoying your time in Archemi, and if you’re not, please start a ticket with us and we’ll see what we can do!

  We have rolled out some bugfixes and other features based on Beta feedback:

  - Clipping and terrain physics issues are a W.I.P, but we have substantially decreased the likelihood of accidental dismemberment during teleports. Sorry about that!

  - Better/more realistic weather in Oren, Zaunt and Lalanthir.

  - Playe
rs reported mob spawns in the Hercynia region were scarce, a hangover from the alpha testing phase. We have implemented a large increase in spawns to assist with leveling.

  - Pain duration during health recovery has been decreased 15% by popular demand.

  - Soul shard/gear recovery points are now always accessible. If you died in an inaccessible position, the point will be moved to the closest accessible location. Don’t give up!

  - The Level 10 cap, decreased EXP, and the difficulty cap on NPC hostiles is still in place, and unlikely to be removed until the refugee migration is complete. We’re sorry for this, but the risk of early testers surpassing new intake is a real one, and we want to make sure everyone starts on an equal footing.

  Thanks for your patience and understanding. As you know, Archemi’s development had to be rushed ahead of the pandemic and we’re still catching up on everything. Several ill members of the Dev Team will be transferring to their virtual stations over the next couple of weeks so that they can continue working from the inside.

  Have fun!

  Your Friendly Neighborhood Devs

  I nodded to myself as I read. More mobs would be nice – though I shuddered to think what it would be like trying to fight on Cutthroat’s back.

  The Devs had attached a list of known issues in my area. My fellow PCs had been busy - the only things in this part of the world I apparently had to worry about were some collision issues with a bridge in Liren that had trapped a couple of players, and the report of a homeless NPC following a player around while chirping the same phrase over and over. I guessed being a crazy bum in Archemi was ‘just a bug’. IRL, we called that schizophrenia.

  Temperance’s letter was next. I opened it, stomach churning with formless anxiety. She was probably just checking in, but...

  Good morning, Hector,

  I am writing to let you know that your body expired at 4:02 a.m. on Thursday, the 12th of September 2059, due to complications of the HEX retrovirus. The rest of your transition team and I offer you our condolences and support in light of this difficult news.