Chapter 37: The Weight We Carry
Claire made herself as small as possible behind the tree, and carefully peeked around the trunk to see Brent. He was crouching low, sword at the ready to charge the goblin encampment. Brent looked back and flashed an open hand five times, revealing no less than fifteen goblins beyond the tree line. Claire felt her blood begin to pump, and then looked back at Alex and gave him the same sign of fifteen goblins. He nodded slowly and took a big gulp.
Wiping a sweaty hand on her leather armor, she checked for the hundredth time to make sure the training armor was securely attached. Chase had given each of them what was in the chest but poor Alexander had not been able to fit into the chest piece, and so had been forced to only wear a leather helmet and a pair of vambraces on his forearms.
Now all we need is Chase’s signal, thought Claire.
A whistling sound ended in a whump and a shriek of pain. Claire heard the stamping of a dozen feet and before her mind could tell her legs to move she was charging along with Brent and Alexander. Chase, in his wisdom, had positioned him self on the opposite side of where they had been positioned. The plan was for him to shoot them from the other side so that the goblins would have their backs turned to the Fighter’s ambush, and the plan worked perfectly. As the trio burst from the trees there was the backs of over a dozen goblins gathered about their fallen comrade, an arrow protruding from his chest. The goblins were all dressed in clothes stitched from leaves and beat their little clubs on shields made of wood as they shrieked and chanted at the unseen enemy in the forest.
“DIE!” Bellowed Brent. He reached the goblins first and took a mighty swing that arched through the backs of two goblins. Suddenly the encampment was in chaos as the goblins began to turn, their yellow eyes wide with shock. Before they could respond Alexander and Claire were right on their heels, adding their own attacks into the little creatures.
With every swing of her sword another goblin fell, their black blood spraying the ground and their clubs falling pitifully away. The goblins closer to the forest managed to retreat sufficiently away to mobilize themselves into a primitive phalanx, their shields help before them and their clubs waving threateningly at the Fighters. Claire heard Alexander give a grunt and suddenly another goblin fell.
Half of their numbers now littered the ground. The goblins in formation stamped the ground with their feet and and chanted some sort of war cry. Had Claire not been with Brent and Alexander their garbled words might have even sounded ominous, but with her two guild mates beside her she felt only the thrill of battle boiling in her blood.
“Spread out,” said Alexander to them both. “We need to get them exposed.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” said Brent. But he dutifully began stepping to the left, causing the goblins on the side to shift their stances.
“Bluger blega bluk-bluk!” Chanted the goblins. Sinewy tongues licked cracked lips and their gaping maws revealed jagged teeth. The two goblins on front of Claire were now the only ones in the makeshift phalanx as their companions had been forced to move to answer Brent and Alexander’s advances. Claire had to step over the bodies of their goblin dead to come within swords reach and when she did they shrieked a final war cry.
“BLUK-BLUK!”
They broke formation and charged her, swinging madly with their clubs. Claire easily batted one away, but the other grazed her right shoulder. She felt something warm drip down her arm but didn’t have a chance to check her injury as she plunged her sword into her attackers middle. At the peripheries of her vision she could make out Alexander and Brent fighting aggressively with their remaining foes. She tried to tug her sword out of the goblin but the blade was stuck, likely caught on some bone in it’s monsters body.
“Bluger blega?” Crowed her final goblin. He had retrieved his spiked club and was grinning at Claire malevolently. It’s eyes narrowed and it raised its club, preparing to throw it at her such was the length. Claire tugged harder at the blade but it wouldn’t budge. Brent had just finished off his final goblin and she heard him yell at her.
“Claire! Watch it!”
Whump!
And arrow suddenly protruded out the side of the goblins head, it’s grin still plastered on its face. The goblin stayed standing for the briefest of moments, and then came crashing down to the ground, the arrow pointing at the sky and its yellow eyes seeming to stare at Claire with a permanent look of fury and surprise.
“Good shot, Chase!” Brent called into the forest. “Come on, Alexander, finish it already. Me and Claire are already done!”
Alexander was trading blows with the final goblin, the little creature fighting valiantly despite the bodies of all his fallen goblins scattered about the encampment. A sweep of Alexander’s sword had caused the goblin to lose its shield, and so now it wielded its spiked club with two hands, stubby fingers clinging desperately to the haft.
“Little bugger is hard to kill,” said Alexander, breathing heavily. Sweat was pouring down his face and his shirt was soaked.
“Just cleave him in half like you did his buddy,” laughed Brent, trying to put on a show of not being tired despite placing his hands on his legs and breathing heavily between words.
The goblin tried to dodge a slash from Alexander’s sword, but miscalculated and got its arm nearly taken off for its mistake. The blade cut deep into its arm and its limb hung limply at his side, sway with the movement of the retreating goblin.
“BLEGA!” Screeched the goblin, his eyes brimming with pain.
“End it, Alex,” said Chase, emerging from the forest with Thomas in toe. Thomas was scanning the carnage with glee and began to stoop down to the bodies to retrieve any valuables. “You okay, Claire?”
Claire remembered her wound and checked her right shoulder. Her shirt was stained with more blood than she could remember ever having on her, but the wound barely hurt and she didn’t think it was too deep.
“I’m fine,” shrugged Claire. “I guess Amelie can work some today, too.”
Just then Alexander gave a great cry and finally cut the goblin down with a fatal swing. He struck the goblin so hard in the chest that it ended up spinning around twice before falling on the ground. Thomas laughed grimly at the sight.
“Nice, Alex,” said Thomas. “You made that one tap dance to its grave.”
“Thanks,” said Alexander, breathing a deep sigh of relief. “I don’t think I could have fought it for much longer. This was exhausting.”
“Take a seat for a bit whilst young Thomas here does his bit,” said Chase. He still had an arrow loosely knocked to his bow and was scanning the tree line for any stragglers. “How many did each of you get today?”
“Including the patrol we encountered a while back,” said Brent, also taking a seat on the ground. “That brings it to 8 goblins for me today.”
“I got 8 as well,” said Claire. She had actually counted nine but didn’t want to upset Brent. She had seen him get mad before when ever she had out performed him slightly.
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“You’ll never get more than me, Claire,” said Brent with a wink. His brown hair was matted with sweat and even in the aftermath of the battle, surrounded by ugly dead creatures he made her have to catch her breath.
“Alex?” Queried Chase.
“I lost count, actually,” said Alexander. “Must be close to 8, I think.”
“Very well,” said Chase. “I think we have done enough for today. How’s it going, Tommy?”
Thomas was bent over one of the goblins that Claire had slain. It’s yellow eyes stared disconcertedly at the sky and was making the boy turn a shade of green as he gingerly riffled through its pockets.
“Fine,” lied Thomas. “These things don’t carry much gold, though. Only got about five coins so far.”
“Check the tents over there,” said Chase, pointing at a pitiful collection of tents constructed of animal skins and wooden branches. “One of them should have a small chest or something. Just put the entire thing in your bag because we can put the container to use later.”
As Thomas scrambled to do just that, Claire nudged the goblin who had nearly killed her with her foot.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” said Claire, looking at Chase.
“Thank me by not getting your sword stuck again.”
Claire looked at her feet, feeling her face burning. Chase didn’t offer any other words but followed Thomas to the tent. It was galling to have the exact problem he had mentioned days ago happen right in front of him to witness. She glanced at Brent to see whether he heard but he was too focused on cleaning the blood from his sword.
“The thing I hate most about these goblins is how their blood clings to my blade,” he said off handedly.
“Yeah,” agreed Claire, looking at her own blade. She had managed to pull it clean from the goblin after several attempts and it was coated in the black blood of their enemies.
“Don’t take Chase’s criticism too hard, Claire,” said Brent, still cleaning his sword. “He’s just here to help us along.”
“Right,” said Claire. She turned around and pretended to become interested in a tree so that Brent could not see her face turn an ever darker shade of red.
“It’s almost funny,” said Brent. “Brix used to always say the same thing to me. ‘Thank me by not lowering your shield again,’ ‘thank me by not being late for class again.’ I wonder if Chase got that from him or the other way around.”
“I don’t think NPCs make habits like that,” said Claire.
“Who knows,” said Brent. “Esem is a strange world. For instance, look around this place. Did the goblins really make those tents, or did AION just design this whole place and make it look like they did it themselves?”
Claire looked around the encampment and noticed all the decorations she had been too busy to examine during the fight: animal skins drying out on lines, a fire pit with a small bird roasting over the coals, animal bones scattered about the ground. Whether it was goblin made or detailed by AION it was hard to say.
“That’s a great question, Brent,” said Claire. “I never really thought about it. Maybe AION made them smart enough to make it all themselves.”
“I don’t think so,” said Brent, shaking his head. “I think he made these NPCs to be the lowest of the low. If they were any smarter they wouldn’t be so easy to kill. Their only purpose is to die by our swords and to make it look like Esem is living and breathing. Odd, huh?”
“Esem is living and breathing, isn’t it?”
“By us, sure,” said Brent. Finished cleaning his blade he stood up and sheathed his sword. “But whose to say all these NPCs are real or not? Do they even really have thoughts of their own?”
The goblin that had nearly killed her sure looked real. It’s eyes and the arrow that jutted from the side of its head was real enough that she was sure she would see it in her dreams that night. Claire thought about Ghelion and his peaceful demeanor and how helpful he had been when she was sighing her contract. Wasn’t he real? What was real, anyways? All these thoughts she had, but not wanting to bother Brent with them, she just shrugged and nodded her head in agreement.
“Look what I found!”
Thomas was running towards them with a small chest in his arms. When he drew near and stopped, he carefully opened the lid to reveal a few golden coins.
“What a bounty,” laughed Brent. “A few more of those and you can buy another horse.”
“It’s not about the amount,” said Thomas, sounding hurt. “They were hidden really well and I found them.”
“Whatever, Thomas,” said Brent. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called. “Chase! We done here? Let’s get outta here. Alex, get up, rest time is over.”
Alexander had been recuperating on the ground ever since the fight ended. And at Brent’s words finally focused himself and got to his feet. Claire wondered whether he was coming to regret choosing the Fighter job as opposed to something more intellectual.
“Think I need to rest back at the fort for a while,” mumbled Alex, wiping his forehead of sweat.
“Rest?” Said Chase mischievously. “I think after you see what is waiting for you at the fort you may think differently. Let’s go!”
Using the map, Chase led them back to Lazerpail. Fortunately the trek only took around 45 minutes and there were few hills to climb. They were careful to retrace their steps and not destroy any more shrubbery or plants than they had to. Chase had explained that they did not want other players realizing there was a group here if they could help it at all. By the time they were trudging back to the fort’s entrance Claire was breathing hard and ready for a long rest, not that she would have admitted it for the world. One look at Brent and she saw he was ready to return to the forest and continue their slaughter of the little goblins at any moment.
“Do any of you remember the password to enter the fort?” Asked Chase, holding the vines aside to reveal the swirling symbol and the hidden door to Lazerpail.
“Something about the Old Guard I think,” said Alex, impatiently. “Can you just tell us again?”
“It’s best that you four learn the code. Come here,” said Chase, waving a hand at Alex.
Alex waddled up to the entrance with a huff and placed his hand on the rock.
“Repeat after me,” said Chase. “ ‘Solomon, Dredman, Karkren, and Spade. Brothers not in blood but in arms and loyalty. We have returned to Fort Lazerpail.’”
Alex said the code word for word, and the wall vanished like a mirage in the desert. The five guild members stepped inside the hallway and their steps echoed off the stone walls. Claire was thankful that the tunnel was cool compared to the growing heat outside and she dreaded the spring ending and giving way to the summer heat that would soon be scorching their bodies during training sessions.
“Welcome back, young warriors,” said a cheerful Marlon as they came into the courtyard. His eyes were crinkled in a smile and he seemed to be of an extra good humor. Sweat dampened his shirt and he wiped his face with a handkerchief. “I trust your training was a success? No one lose any limbs or eyeballs?”
“Only a minor wound,” said Chase. “Claire took a blow to her shoulder, but other than that it was quite the success.”
“Excellent, excellent,” said Marlon. He clapped his hands together in excitement. “While you were out I decided to open up that large crate of yours. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but I think I managed to assemble the…apparatus? I am not quite sure what to call it, actually.”
Claire looked past the old man who was stroking his white beard. Behind him was a tall metal frame with four posts. Familiarity tickled her distant memories from the Old World but she could not place her finger on what it was.
“Well done, Marlon!” Said Chase, clapping the man on the shoulder. “I was going to do it when I came back but you saved us all a lot of time.
“What is it, Chase?” Asked Brent, walking close to examine the thing. “Is it for hanging our clothes on?”
“Not at all,” said Chase. He was stooping over the crate and bent over to lift something. When he stood up he was holding a long bar of metal around seven feet long.
“This,” said Chase, carrying the bar to the rack and placing the bar on a pair of holders. “Is called a squat rack.”
“It looks so familiar,” mused Brent. He placed his hand on the bar and turned it a couple times in the holders.
“It’s from the Old World,” explained Chase. “Centuries ago there was a player who had a memory of using something similar. He chose the Tinkerer job after the training island and constructed the first one Esem ever saw. Players bought them left and right and he became very wealthy over night. Sometimes people call it an ‘Eddie’ after the maker, which was his name, I guess.”
Chase had gone back to the box and lifted a large, round plate of metal. Grunting under the weight, he slid it over one end of the bar. Soon he had retrieved a second plate and placed it on the other side of the bar as well.
“This is for our workouts?” Said Alex. He was peering inside the crate. “I see a bunch of other weights in here. Must be hundreds of pounds. No wonder we needed the wagon.”
“This thing is going to help all of you grow stronger,” said Chase, slapping the rack affectionately. “To be honest, I haven’t touched one since I was your age, Brent, but Fighter buffs are only as strong as the player. By using this, that measly 5% strength buff each of you have will go a lot further.”
“Ah,” said Brent, looking very satisfied. “Good idea, Chase. How much weight does this make?”
“Right now the bar is holding around 135 pounds…think you can squat it?”
“Let’s see,” said Brent, excitedly.
He got under the bar and placed it carefully on his upper back. Chase instructed him on the proper method of lifting the weight and how far to take it to the ground. When he pushed off from the ground, the bar easily came up, and he took a cautious step backward.
“Just do one,” said Chase. “Down and back up. That’s all there is to it.”
Brent bent his legs and lowered his body until he had gone past his knees, then stood back up as though it was nothing. Claire wondered to herself whether she would be able to do half that much weight so easily.
“Not bad,” said Chase as Brent racked the bar on the rack. “Felt light?”
“Yeah,” breathed Brent, still winded from the hike back to the fort. “Not too bad at all. I guess tomorrow we can add this to the training.”
“Tomorrow?” Said Chase with mock surprise. He turned to look at Brent and Claire. “You mean, today! Each of you owe me 100 squats before you can sit down. And after that, we train with the practice swords. Got it?”
“What about me?” Said Thomas as Alex started to groan. Chase ignored his grumbling.
“You’re too young for this weight, Tommy,” said Chase. “But you can still do pull-ups. Go to the other side and try to grab the bar.”
“Ah,” said Thomas, looking chagrined. “Wonderful.”
“Yes it is,” said Chase with a smile. He looked genuinely happy and took in a great inhalation of hair. When he exhaled his eyes were alive with energy. “It is wonderful. And I am so happy we get to share in this together. Alex! You’re up first. Give us an easy ten reps.”
And so the training began in earnest, and the courtyard was soon filled with the sounds of clanking metal, the fighters grunting and groaning under the bar, and all the while Marlon sat beneath the shade reading his book and humming contentedly to himself.