by Ember Lane
He poured one before I’d even answered. “Now,” he said, “Your wizards have pledged to defend my settlement, and I’m about to test them just one step farther. Here’s the thing, this might tip them over the edge.”
“Just what is this surprise?”
Lincoln’s forehead creased. “Well, it’s technically your surprise, but I haven’t quite worked out how to tell you it.”
“What?”
“Have you met Elleren?”
He was changing the subject again—just like he had when I’d asked him earlier in the day. “Lincoln! Just tell me.”
“Hi,” said the girl.
“Yes, yes,” I said, dismissing her rudely and instantly regretting it. “Sorry,” I added, quickly. “He’s infuriating.”
“And lovely,” Elleren said. “If he weren’t taken…”
Lincoln’s cheeks flushed red, as did mine as I realized he’d managed to change the subject again…somehow.
“Tell me!” I screamed.
Lincoln grinned.
“There’s something you should know about Elleren,” he said.
“What?”
“She’s one of your citizens.”
Name: Alexa Drey. Race: Human. Type: Chancer.
Age: 24. Alignment: None. XP: 15,000.
Level: 8. Profession: None. Un/Al pts: 0.
Reputation: Known.
Health Points: 500/500 Energy: 170/170
Mana: 260/260 Shadow Mana: 0/750
HP Regen: 50/Min EN Regen: 17/Min
MA Regen: 19/Min SMA Regen: NA
Attributes: (Level, Bonuses)
Vitality: (12, 38), Stamina: (12, 5), Intelligence: (26, 0), Charisma: (6, 6), Wisdom: (11, 8), Luck: (7, 5), Humility: (2, 0), Compassion: (3, 0), Strength: (3, 20), Agility: (7, 0)
Skills: (Level, % to next level, Boosts %, Level Cap)
Running: (6, 0, 25, 12), Perception: (5, 0, 0, 15), Commerce: (1, 0, 0, 6), Magic: (5, 10, 0, ∞), Concealment: (5, 0, 0, 15), Night vision: (4, 18, 0, 10), Blades: (8, 12, 0, 25), Spell Casting: (2, 0, 0, ∞), Close-Q-fighting: (5, 0, 0, 25), Archery: (6, 0, 0, 28), Swordsmanship: (7, 10, 28, 20), Staff fighting: (7, 5, 0, 60), Horseriding: (3, 0, 0, 8), Climbing: (3,8,0,14), # Stealth: (1,0,0,22), Rope law: (1,0,0,4), Crafting: (3,18,0,5)
Healing tree: Level 1
Subskill – Poultices and potions: (3, 22, 24)
Talents:
Tongues of Time, The Veils of Lamerell.
Quests:
Seek out the Legend of Billy Long Thumb. Status: Incomplete. Reward: Unknown.
The Veils of Lamerell. Status: Incomplete. Reward: Death.
Subquest: The master is now the slave, his command now his prisoner. Free the gambler, end his torment and confront one of five. Status: Complete.
Subquest: Catch a thief. Status: Incomplete. Reward: Unknown.
11
Sanctuary
We stood on a ledge looking out over an impossible valley. In front of me, a rope-and-plank bridge crossed it and led up to a huge block of rectangular stone that took up the entire other side. I grabbed one of the walkway’s rope handrails, and took a deep breath.
“My city?” I gasped, looking down at the sprawl below.
“Technically,” Lincoln said.
Between our ledge and the block of stone on the other side was a gorge-like valley that resembled a city and a forest, both at the same time. It was like the buildings had been constructed in harmony with the trees.
“See that line of ten blue-roofed buildings?” Lincoln asked me, pointing. “They are barracks. See how they are angled slightly, and match the other ten over the river. It’s perfect symmetry, and yet in between them, we still have enough trees to provide fruit for all the soldiers when they come. They remind me of—”
“I want to know,” Shylan interrupted, “how you could do all of this…without anyone knowing.”
Lincoln rolled his eyes. “Ale,” he said. “I keep telling you, ale.”
“Ale?”
“Ale,” Lincoln confirmed. “Look, let me show you something. Are you okay with flimsy bridges? I mean it’s as strong as you like but it does sway a little bit.”
Shylan’s hands bunched to fists, and he straightened, looking fit to burst. It appeared that something about Lincoln infuriated him. I noticed that Cronis was just gawking at the bulky structure opposite and saying nothing, as though its presence confused him. Star was staying real close to Elleren and me, and Mezzerain had the look of someone who’d seen it all before, someone who was itching to get on with things.
“Of course I’m okay with a bridge that sways a little. I’ll have you know…” The wizard had his teeth gritted now. “I’ll have you know I have faced down dire monsters, dread banes, and mutants like you’ve only imagined in your worst nightmares. A bridge? Hah!” and he strode onto it, hands behind his back, chin in the air…until it started wobbling. He spun around…gingerly. “Tell me, just how safe is it?”
Lincoln walked out to him. “I can do two things well,” he proclaimed. “I can brew ale, and I can build. Trust me, the bridge is fine. Now...” Lincoln said, turned and waved us all on, “let me show you why I think it’s all still a secret.”
We walked out to the middle of the bridge. I noticed Cronis dragging his heels. It was like he feared the big block of stone opposite. Lincoln walked past Shylan and led us to the middle of the bridge. There, he stood looking down the valley, and I guessed by the position of the sun, south.
Following his gaze, I saw the twinkling blue of the valley’s river as it meandered through thick woods, cottages, and mills. About a mile away, it vanished under a gray stone wall that spanned the valley’s head. I guessed it was around twenty feet tall.
“It’s a small wall,” Shylan said, his voice dismissive. “Why would that help?”
“Small at the moment, but it’s symbolic,” Lincoln explained, and explained nothing at all. “Try and remember when you were venturing here, drawn by the damn mouse?”
“Damn mouse…” Shylan repeated but suspiciously. “Your point?”
“Hadn’t you all become weary, fed up, even at each other’s throats? Were you sick to the back of your teeth of the damp, the dark, the trailing vines and webs? What would you have given for a bed, a bath, ale, and a plate of food? And then, when all hope is lost, you see that wall, and you’re welcomed, bathed and fed—then you taste my ale…”
He had me, had me with his words. I wanted that ale, I wanted that bed, that plate of food, and I wanted to bathe in his secluded pond—I’d added that last part in. Shylan was gazing out, his eyes lost in wonder. Lincoln patted us all one by one as he walked back toward the ridge. “It’s all down there,” he said softly. “All waiting.” We all peeled off the guide ropes, and we all followed him.
“Now,” he continued, “only a couple of weeks ago, it was all thick forest, from this side to that buttress over there. By the way, it’s supposed to be some castle…Starellion, I think…yes Starellion.” Now on the ledge, Lincoln turned, his hands upturned. “Does that name mean anything to any of you? I’m talking to the wizards in particular.” He laughed, and scooted off, soon disappearing down some steps. I ran after him, trying to grab him, but he just shook me off.
“Wait,” I shouted. “How?” but Lincoln was still laughing, taking the steps two at a time, and only turned when he was at their bottom.
“How? I build, that’s how. Look. Echo?”
Another coppery-colored guardian appeared. “Lincoln?”
“This is Alexa Drey. She may give you any orders to complete any build at any time. Though my name is on the city deeds as the lord, it is her city as much as mine.” And the minute he’d said it, its stat sheet flashed up in my mind.
Settlement name: Sanctuary. Population: 408.
Population capacity: 700
Attributes: (Level, Bonuses)
Politics: (20, 0), Culture: (0, 0), Defense: (0, 0)
Build speed: +20%, Learning advancement: N/A, Defense
bonus: N/A
Buildings: Amount - levels
Cottages: 20 – 4,4,4,4,4,4,4,4,4,4,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3, Warehouse 2 – 7,7, Inn 1 – 5, Beacon Tower 1 – 3, Walls 1 – 5 [Reinforcement Level 4], Town Hall 1 – 7, Academy 1 – 5, Feasting Hall 1 – 5, Marketplace 1 – 1, Barracks 10 – 5,2,2,2,2,2,2,2,2,2, Forge 1 – 6, Workshop 1 – 4, Rally Spot 1 – 5, Stable 1 – 4, Dock 1 - 1
Fortifications
Trap – 1000, Abatis – 0, Archer’s Tower – 50, Rolling log – 20, Defensive Trebuchet – 30
Production
Farms: 15 – 3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3,3, Sawmills: 10 – 4,4,4,4,4,4,4,4,4,4, Quarries: 6 – 5,5,5, Mines: 5 –4,4,4
Resources (Amount, Production rate, Current Consumption-food only)
Food: (100,108, 9000/ph +40%, -4080p/h), Wood: (210,460, 10,000/ph +40%), Stone: (15,000, 4500/ph +50%), Ore: (14,000, 3000/ph +40%)
“So, this is it. I’m building it at the expense of Joan’s Creek—I kinda like that place as it is,” Lincoln explained. “Anyway, we’re a bit strapped for stone and iron here, but I transfer it from Joan’s Creek in quite the devious manner. The wall and defenses soon swallow it all up though.”
“How devious?”
“I cheat—my market places overlap. So, Echo, as I said, you take instruction from Alexa too.”
“As you wish,” said Echo.
“Wait, why?” I asked.
Lincoln looked at me. “It’s your city. I used your token.” He told me how he been born into the game, how he’d spawned in a ceratog called Finequill’s establishment, and how Finequill had allotted my stuff to him, and suddenly my start made a lot more sense.
“So, I had that odd start because of a clerical mix-up caused by a mouse?”
“Damn mice,” Lincoln said.
“Damn mice.” I laughed at it, and Lincoln took my hand, pulling me along.
“You’ve got to hand it to the game though. If we’re right, and it wanted a way to coax you along rather than plunge you straight in, a ceratog’s oversight might have got it all done without any fuss.”
The others had caught up. We were walking along a red gravel path, which wound through a park of sorts. “I had most of the larger trees thinned out, just left stands dotted around. The place is teeming with tree elves now, and they’re all training in the barracks. I’ll have an army of bows, but few pikes, swords or cavalry.” He pointed along a branching path that angled off toward the river. “They mostly live in a small woods down there. There’s a clearing with their village’s sacred tree in the middle and cottages all around. It’s quite idyllic. Run by an old elf called Forgarth—Elleren will take you there one day and introduce you.”
It was idyllic, or would have been if I was destined to stay. The path twisted around, past a row of four cottages, then through a small copse, then more cottages, and a building I recognized as an academy, like the one we were in earlier that day. Everywhere, the bangs, the calls, the buzz of industry sounded out. The farther along the path we went, the bigger the buildings became. I saw two huge, shear-sided warehouses, with carts backing in, loading up. We passed another workshop, another forge, until we came to another tavern. This one was large, bigger than the one in Joan’s Creek.
“Shall we?” Lincoln asked, and we sat at a table outside. “I fear I cannot evade the wizard’s questions much longer. He’s been remarkably patient, considering the way I’ve treated him.”
Shylan dumped himself down dead opposite Lincoln. “Is this a level 4 tavern?” he asked, eyeing Lincoln suspiciously.
“That it is, but I built it after the other. So…you know…”
“No I don’t know,” Shylan huffed, “and that’s the problem with you. I don’t know what you’re up to, and that worries me.”
“What if I told you all this.” He swept his arms around. “All this was just exactly what I said it was—a refuge—a place folk can come to escape the tyranny around. What if I was exactly who I said I was?”
The wizard grunted. “Then you’d be a fine piece of the puzzle. But how can I trust you?” Shylan brought out his pipe and lit it. “Explain how you did it.” And he swept his arm around, mimicking Lincoln. “Tell me, and tell me now.”
Mezzerain sat next to Lincoln, his manner like a bodyguard, and then a dwarf with a big, mauve Mohican came out of the tavern with nearly a dozen mugs of ale in hand.
“Ah, Ozmic, meet the gang,” Lincoln said, and introduced us all.
Ozmic sat at the table. “Shylan eh? Shylan the great all-powerful wizard. I heard of yer, and I always wanted to ask you a question. Tell me, if yer all powerful, why’s this place gone ta the crapper?”
“The crapper?” Shylan said, and drummed his fingers on the table. “What would you have me do? Smite the world the way Lamerell did? Leave little standing? Would you have me raise Mandrake and let it soar on the winds breathing its fire without prejudice? Tell me, you still whisper her name, but what did her actions achieve?”
Ozmic let his fat finger circle the top of his mug. He clearly had no answer. “So, what yer going ta do?”
“And that’s the problem.” Shylan clicked his fingers. “Why should I do anything? Sutech Charm raises an army in the Lowlands, and everybody cowers at his shadows—yet he is just a man. Addison of Quislaine, he plots from his dragon’s lair—he would see Irydia fall; maybe he’s even done a tidy deal with Sutech, maybe he’ll rule Irydia’s peace. War is war, Ozmic, it culls the weak, lends five minute fame to the strong, and scatters the defeated, and do you know what happens when it’s done?”
“Nothing changes.”
Shylan snapped his fingers again. “That. That right there. Nothing. You ask me why I do nothing? I am but one wizard—”
Cronis coughed.
“Two wizards,” Shylan said, scowling. “They’ve got halls full of them in Shyantium. Why don’t they do it?” Shylan leaned forward. “But tell me, who should I pick? What lord of Irydia should I give my backing to? Should I pick Muscat, who sits pretty in Brokenford or Bryce, who eyes up Lakevale Pass, who covets that castle above his own? Maybe Reynard, of Midfort Cross—how about him? Any of the port kings? Surely they’re more worthy. Or should I ride with Sutech Charm, who at least has the wherewithal to unite three Lowlands in a common hatred for six other lands. Which of Mandrake should I stand behind? Because they’re all useless in their own way.”
“Zybandian,” I whispered.
Shylan raised his hand. “Not him. Zybandian has other tasks.” He drummed his fingers on the table in contemplation.
“Did I tell you?” Lincoln said, filling the ensuing silence. “Did I tell you about the goat I saw the other day?” Lincoln delved in his pocket and retrieved his pipe. “Goat, stuck it was,” he muttered and puffed out a huge funnel of smoke. “It was stuck between two rocks, it’s hind leg lodged firm. The goat, well, it had tried to free itself, and doing that, it had broke its own leg.”
“What did you do?” Star asked.
Lincoln grunted. “It was broke. Weren’t no fixing it, so I snapped its neck and put it out of its misery. Some things just can’t be fixed. As a good friend recently told me, sometimes you just gotta let it all burn.”
Cronis started nodding, and Shylan puffed on his own pipe. “And are you?”
Lincoln looked up. “Am I what?”
“Going to let it all burn?”
“Not up to me. I’m no king, no wizard, no pretender. Those choices are on your shoulders. But this place—this place needs a commander. Aezal isn’t the warrior for it, nor’s Alexa, or any here. I built it, and with that...” Lincoln pointed to the lump of rock lining the side of the valley. “I get the feeling that’s going to play its part, whatever it is.” He shook his head. “No. My pledge to you is this. I’ll build it. I’ll get it ready. I’ll even keep it a secret. But that’s me—Lincoln the Builder—take no more from me because it’s all I have to give.”
Shylan nodded. “I will find your man.” And then he seemed to withdraw into himse
lf.
“Well, you’re all a merry bunch, aren’t you?” Cronis growled. “Elleren, it was Elleren, wasn’t it? Tell me, can you take me closer to that thing?” He pointed at the stone buttress.
“If you want, but we’ve scoured the sides and can see no entrance.”
“Humph. What about you?” he said, addressing Ozmic.
“Rhangnarg should not be disturbed. It’s stone bleeds. Wraiths fill its halls—”
“Nonsense,” Cronis snapped. “While I don’t doubt a fair few undesirable elements live in there, it’s only because it’s empty, so something’s got to fill it. Clear it tier by tier, should be a bit of fun—nothing more, nothing less.”
Ozmic stared at the old wizard, almost as if he couldn’t fathom Cronis’ thinking. Then he shrugged. “Tell you what,” he said and winked. “You go in first, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Cronis grunted. “In front, behind, makes no odds when they come at you from all sides. Nope, we’ll not be clearing its halls today. I have to attend Beggle first but after, then we’ll see the measure of you.” He nodded, as if happy with his conclusions and stood.
“Elleren, shall we?”
I stood up too, and grabbed Star’s hand, pulling her up. “We’re coming,” I said, and Star shot me a look telling me she was quite happy where she was. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” I insisted.
“Says the woman whose clothes are currently getting repaired for the third time.”
Elleren led us along another red path, past an orchard, and what looked like Sanctuary’s town hall, and then on to a jetty where we boarded a small boat and were rowed across the river by a mantilee called Gripper. He had the same cheery disposition as Grog had at Castle Zybond, and I instantly hankered for that place, and wondered what task Shylan had in mind for Zybandian.