Demonborn's Fjord

by Dante Sakurai

  Zaine’s voice shouted through the trees: “Lord LeMort!”

  “Get back!” Rowan barked. “It’s coming for—”

  The impact was loud but not deafening. The ground did not shake, and there was not a cloud of dust coming from the beach. Seawater was quick to flow back into the fjord. This was not the apocalyptic explosion which his imagination had conjured. Well, it was just a meteor shower, not an asteroid collision. Any dinosaur monsters were going to live. Phew.

  A steaming chunk of glassy black rock, elongated like a fat leaf, jutted from the waves. It was immense but small in terms of cosmic scales, maybe twenty or thirty cubic yards, somehow intact after burning in the atmosphere. And when the steam cleared, blue spots glittered from crevices in the rock, a shade of blue unlike any other, richer than the sky during day. Like laser light.

  “I see sapphires!” Gabrielle said, pointing.

  Zaine was near, the other Elves with him. His boyish face lit up with such radiant hope and joy that Rowan was tempted to think he was having a different kind of happy moment. The reason for his elation was obvious: those were not ordinary sapphires, not sapphires at all.

  “Soul Crystals,” Zaine said at above a whisper.

  A lucky boy he was.

  But a gut-wrenching realization dawned upon Rowan: “Yup, this settlement is in danger.” In more danger than before, if that were possible. Those Trolls had to be coming. What was keeping them at bay?

  36

  Starry eyed, the six Elves and two Demons waded into lukewarm water. Criss-crossing waters were up to Rowan’s heart when he stood before the shining meteorite.

  Skylar was the first to stupidly touch. Hissing a cough, he withdrew his hand. “It’s still hot.”

  Well, Rowan thought dryly, he wouldn’t have done well in school anyway.

  Luthias, unfazed by the Soul Crystals (and the obvious coming threat), said, “That is high quality blacksteel ore, Skylar, as strong as steel but much more resilient to magic when forged, especially against dark. And it is lighter.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Skylar mumbled.

  “Can you smelt and forge it?” Rowan asked. “With your magical skills, I mean.”

  Luthias’ head shifted left then right. “Smelt into ingots and hand-made molds—yes. Forge—not without difficulty.”

  “What level’s optimal?”

  “Twenty at minimum. Ten with a Forging Station.”

  “Damn.” Rowan exhaled salty air smothered with a metallic smoky scent. “That’s fine. Let’s get this rock mined. Start breaking it into blocks. Let it drop into the water and cool, then carry it back.” He gave the three Miners a light brush to their slave threads, then another three to the haulers.

  Faenin and Liluth emerged from their dumbstruck trances, awareness returning to their eyes. They mumbled apologies, then whispered the word for the Mine skill. Their arms outstretched lazily, water dripping from their rags. Mana danced at their fingertips. Blades of mana cut into the metallic rock, silently. No precious crumbs were lost to the waves, and within ten seconds, two blocks splashed saltwater into Rowan’s eyes. A third splash was missing.

  “Zaine, wake up,” Rowan said, jerking his chin rightward, a harsher tug to those slave bonds. “Chop chop! Get to work! Don’t make me force you.”

  At last, Zaine wrestled free from an intoxicated daze. He was such a momma’s boy. He took an exaggerated breath. “Allow me one of those Soul Crystals.”

  “We’ll discuss that later. Get to work.”

  Another two blocks fell too close to Rowan. Their heat warmed his toes not uncomfortably, but he waded back to Gabrielle’s side for extra precaution, who was silent. Her face was oddly blank.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Just talking with Tasha.”

  Of course.

  The cousins hurried past, peeked at her. They carried two chunks of ore while Luthias held the first Soul Crystal that had broken off in the impact, cradled in his arms like a baby. It was a tetrahedron—a perfect glassy tetrahedron giving off a slow-pulsing blue light like a beating heart. They were all that shape. They did not beat in sync. Interesting, most interesting.

  The thread of magic connecting Rowan to Zaine strained. Those desperate, pleading Elven eyes tracked Luthias to the shore.

  Rowan straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Zaine. Look at me. Want to know something?”

  Those eyes reluctantly blinked to Rowan. “What? Are you going to give me one?”

  “If I deem you worthy, sure, but the fact is, I doubt we’re going to be able to keep them. I doubt we’ll survive for long.”

  A bout of confusion muddled Zaine’s boyish features before immediate understanding smacked his cheek. “Oh. Is that why you are all so quiet? My mistake. I was too focused on my…” Everyone knew what he was going to say.

  “Indeed,” Faenin confirmed.

  Liluth merely glanced at Zaine, her face showing signs of hidden worry.

  Gabrielle sniffed and tucked strands of matted hair behind her ear, but unending sea winds from the fjord defeated any efforts of taming that muddy, golden mane. Her tone was far more serious than usual: “I dun’ think anyone saw this meteor, but almost no adventurers started as Trolls.”

  “Why can’t you ask your god, Draesear?” Zaine asked.

  Gabrielle’s eyebrow arched. “Would you like to annoy him and ask? You saw what happened to the Trolls.”

  “Zaine,” Rowan said, “just get to work, okay? We’ll have a meeting in the Workshop after. There’s not much to mine here. It won’t take long.”

  After a moment of internal conflict, Zaine spat, “Fine, but you better grant me one, after everything I’ve done.”

  Rowan ate a smirk. He pinged Gabrielle back to the shore for a private chat, too lazy to type out messages at this time of day, this time of night. The last slice of the sun dipped below the horizon. Darkness promptly fell upon the landscape, the wind cooling further.

  With a watchful eye on the three Miners, especially Zaine, Rowan whispered to Gabrielle, “What’s happening around the world?”

  “Pretty much chaos. Hehehe.”

  All because a guy lost his NPC girlfriend? What a day. “Are they all Soul Crystal meteors?”

  “Hmmm. Looks like… maybe a tenth of them are. The rest are bringing rare metals, gems, and runestone.”

  On cue, a straggler meteor streaked among the stars and crashed somewhere into the ocean. Rowan’s nose wrinkled. “How common?”

  “Everywhere. More at the equator though.” Her tongue rolled. “I bet Soul Crystals will be worthless by the end of the week.”

  He wasn’t so pessimistic. “Or they’ll be a new currency standard. Every family would want a stash of them. Aren’t you studying economics?”

  “Economies are unpredictable, Row. And those crystals pretty big.”

  The size of ripe watermelons, Zaine’s voice echoing. “I suppose.” His muscles tensed as the ambient temperature dipped toward freezing, involuntary shivers encroaching on his Demon body. “Do you think we should tell them?”

  She was the epitome of decisiveness here: “Yup. Like I said, treat em well. They’ll find out eventually, so no point in lying.”

  Her logic was sound. “Yeah, I agree.” His mind roamed. “And how’s Tasha doing? Where is she, by the way?”

  She cut him a quaint look. “Misty Highlands, silly. Ya asked for some runestones.”

  “Didn’t she need a friend at a Town Hall? Don’t tell me we’ve picked up more randoms.”

  “Nope, Ayla arranged a trade on the forums. No one knows her involvement, remember?”

  “She was in Doggo’s video.”

  “No one recognized her.”

  That couldn’t be right. “Really?”

  “There were thousands and thousands and thousands of players filmed. Even more NPCs.” Her eyes rolled. “I doubt she was the only pretty redhead. I saw at least two others fighting from the walls.”

  Rowan mulled
it over, watching more blocks and tetrahedrons fall into the water in the dim light of the Miners’ magic and the twin moons. “Alright. I guess that makes sense.”

  She exhaled a long breath through her nose. “Ya over-think things way too much.”

  “It’s a Demon thing.”

  “Hehe. Kay.”

  * * *

  True to Rowan’s word, it did not take long to mine the meteorite then stash blacksteel ore and Soul Crystals into the Storeroom. Less than a hour’s work in the cold.

  And as promised, they gathered in the Workshop, huddled around the crackling stove, while Rowan and Gabrielle laid everything bare for the Elves to take in, and they had ample difficulty taking it in.

  “Adventurers and mortals intermarrying,” Luthias muttered. “This will not end well.”

  “How is that even going to work?” Viola asked rhetorically.

  Skylar mumbled incoherently. He was trying to stay awake, yawning every minute. He’d taken the lookout last night.

  “Hear hear,” Faenin said. “The texts of old warn of adventurers disappearing and never returning. I would caution Danielle to keep her heart guarded and not pinned to her lapel.”

  How poetic.

  “I don’t care either way,” Rowan said, the humor of the situation long gone. “But I’d thank Tom for causing this meteor storm. We have life insurance for you lot now. Seventeen lives.”

  “Yup.” Gabrielle’s fingers clicked. “And that doesn’t mean ya can be careless.” She swept the Elves with a face daring them to lose a fight to a bear.

  Zaine whistled. “Seventeen Soul Crystals. I have to be dreaming.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Rowan said.

  Zaine was about to say more, but Faenin spoke, “Gabrielle, you say the world is descending into chaos. How bad is the fighting?”

  She pouted. “Oh, it’s horrible. The Dwarves declared war on the Orcs. The three Human factions are on the brink of fightin’ among themselves; the southern kingdom got the lion’s share of Soul Crystals. And the Troll capital is apparently burning. Hehehe.”

  High fantasy politics at its finest, Rowan thought. I’ve endured this too many times in other games.

  Liluth visibly swallowed. “And what of the Sun Elves? Are our families—”

  “Yuppers. They’re doin’ great. Almost no rioting. I’m impressed.”

  “Then I am relieved. The gods have at last answered our pleas.” She could believe that if she wanted.

  Zaine asked at last, “Is my mother alive?”

  The room quieted. The fire roared as Rowan fed it another five percent of his mana bar, a tongue of flame from his index finger licking the wood. He said not too coldly, “We don’t know. She’s just one Elf out of many thousands waiting for a Crystal.”

  Zaine threw his head back, his skull thumping against the wall. “Will you let me journey to Illanor?”

  “What’s the rush? You’ve got much work here.” Rowan tried to not smirk. “All this talk is moot when we don’t even have the Town Hall up.”

  Gabrielle smacked his elbow. “Meanie,” she mumbled playfully.

  “And what of our fate after the Hall is constructed?” Faenin asked, his tone much firmer than usual. “Will we be freed?”

  Friction in the room was electric. Rowan wasn’t going to relent. “My first speech stands. This will be a great fortress one day, and you six can be my champions.”

  “A lord of slaves?” Liluth said with some bite.

  “You cannot possibly keep track of every subject,” Zaine said.

  “Why not? I won’t have thousands. Just enough.” Rowan rose to the challenge. “I’ll have trusted generals. Look at what happened to the Humans. Hundreds of Royal Guards didn’t stop some random player from causing havoc.”

  Gabrielle’s tongue clicked. “He’s got a point.”

  “What about adventurers that appear?” Skylar asked. “I doubt many, if any, would be your slaves.”

  Naturally, that was a major hitch in the plan. Rowan didn’t have too good of a rebuttal: “They would have to either bow to Gab and I or leave. Simple as that. Their choice.”

  “Their choice,” Gabrielle mimicked, copying his gesture and indifferent expression. Her forked flopped up and down. That lightened the mood somewhat.

  “As I said,” Rowan continued, “we are fair rulers. The subjects of this great fjord will be treated well, if they cooperate, and will have ample freedoms. The slave brand on your foreheads, however, isn’t negotiable.”

  And the mood took a nosedive. Rowan was prepared to restrict their slave bindings and summon hellfire at any beat of his thudding heart. Violence was always on the table, Gabrielle silently agreeing. Her fingers twitched toward the mithril dagger by her leg, her eyes predatory.

  A minute and a half ticked away on the system clock on the window. Luthias broke the silence with a frustrated rumble. “You, or rather this Tom Silverwind fellow, have proved to me that adventurers have sway over the creators. I have lived a long life. There is little left for an Elf like myself to see in this world, so my word stands. That is all I have to say. May I take leave for the night?”

  Rowan said, “Yes, thank you.”

  The door creaked open, cold airing rushing in for a moment before it shut with a thump resonating with Rowan’s heart.

  And then there were five and two.

  “Well?” Gabrielle chirped. “Who else wants to be my subject? Viola? Skylar? I’ll make ya dresses!”

  Viola melted, smiling. “Okay, okay. We’ll keep these brands and work on this settlement as long as you be fair to us.” She stood, slouched toward the door.

  As did Skylar. “Same, but I don’t want a dress.”

  “Yippie!” Gabrielle’s hands clapped together. She bobbed up and down, a happy sunflower.

  Rowan watched them leave with a face of approval. Maybe they were orphans or something. I’ll gladly take them in.

  Another gust of chilly air blew in. Another five percent of Rowan’s mana bar emptied, another few sticks of firewood thrown into the stove pit.

  Three and two. And these three were going to be difficult, their faces unwavering, Zaine most of all.

  Rowan asked, “Zaine. Do you have any family other than your mother?”

  “No.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to divulge anything more than that syllable.

  But Rowan kept digging: “And is anyone else waiting for her?”

  Zaine answered after a moment, “I don’t know. It has been many seasons.”

  Not helpful. Rowan’s gaze shifted to Liluth. “Gab and I have been thinking about your offer to make this an Elven settlement. Do you think that could really happen?”

  A hint of surprise weakened her resolve. “I truly believe it.”

  “Because you hope Gab and I would one day disappear? That you’d just take control once we’re gone?”

  She flinched. “Who else would be in charge in your absence? It is inevitable.”

  “We’re not leaving, not for hundreds of seasons at least.” This game was beyond viral at this point. “And even then, we’d probably return after a while.

  Faenin scowled, saying, “A hundred seasons means nothing to us Elves.”

  Gabrielle asked, “Then why are ya fussing over this?”

  Liluth answered, “Would you not also fight for freedom in our position? We wish to start a family in the safety of our homelands.”

  Fair enough.

  Gabrielle pinged a green triangle, which was a go-ahead signal for a contingency plan they had discussed nights ago. A simple lie.

  Bones clicking audibly in Rowan’s neck as he stretched. He began in a voice withered by a touch, “We must tell you this. Our gods, Dreasear and Ione have communed with us. They have been watching through our eyes, watching you. You have been noticed, and selected for a very special role in coming times. If you cooperate, you may be rewarded. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Liluth hid her emotions behi
nd an unreadable mask. “Rewarded. In what way? For what role?”

  “What exactly is to come upon these lands?” Faenin asked.

  Gabrielle lied smoothly: “We do not know. These are tests of faith.”

  Seconds rolled on with with a mood of possible violence. Then a stilted nod highlighted tendons in Faenin’s neck. He said smoothly, “We shall reserve our decision. For now, we will remain cooperative. May we take leave for the night?”

  Annoyance knotted in Rowan’s abdomen. Nevertheless, he let them be, gesturing at the door, warmly. “Goodnight. That Town Hall is still top priority.”

  “Goodnight, Lord.”

  “Goodnight, Lord LeMort.”

  Freezing air blew in, the door’s hinges creaking twice.

  In the far corner, Zaine broke his extended silence with a yawn and groggy words, “I’m in.”

  “Huh?” Gabrielle blurted. “What’s with the change of heart?”

  “I am going bring my mother, however. I will convince her to join. You just have to get me to Illanor or bring me her body.”

  How peculiar, Rowan thought. What exactly did I say to convince him? And those were some… ambitious words. “Why would your mother join?”

  Zaine shrugged. “Ariel and Sangia has not been merciful to our people, not to me or her in the slightest.” He stood. “That reward better be some dragonsteel.” He left without saying goodnight.

  How rude. And always with the dragonsteel; that for sure was a distraction. The boy was smart.

  37

  Another night of death and destruction plagued Rowan’s dreams. This time was worse.

  The screams, the blood, the dead bodies of his bees and wife had tested his resolve. Perhaps some sadistic god judged that he deserved the torment for what he had wrought upon the Trolls, but might was right in his books, and rightfully so. He had saved an innocent Sun Elf, punished a tribe of savages. Did that not count for anything?

  It clearly did not.

  Bathing in the warmth of the morning sun, Rowan stared at the body of a young male Troll. Frosted blue blood clogged a wound stabbed into its chest. Whiffs of an offending scent lingered about.