The dwarf's face scrunched in irritation before looking down, troubled, as if trying to retrieve the memory from the ground itself. In time, he too told his tale, "A bunch of lads and I signed as mercenaries for the manling Lord Hayles against one of his neighbors, Lord Farilse. Something about an exorbitant port tax that one of Haylebury's ships refused to pay for. This led to City Lord Farilse seizing his vessel, the Pride of Iron, that was berthed in his port."
Something ticked at the back of my mind with the ship's name, but I quickly turned my attention back to the dwarf's tale.
“The port of Seaguard had strong high walls and even stronger coastal defenses, and little Lord Hayles decided he needed a bit of dwarven ingenuity to do something about the defenses. A messy affair if there ever was one…" He spat on the ground before continuing. "Good rights to pillage and steady coin are a siren song to any good dwarf worth his ore, and we marched under Haylebury's banner with the baggage train. But Farilse was a cunning one, and he hired mercenaries of his own. Hateful pointy-eared scum, Dark Elves, quiet like shadows, fell upon the baggage train near, gutting the sentries and picket lines with not so much as a sound.
“My own mate, Kabruk, was taken down right before my eyes, one of their cursed black blades across his throat as he tried to raise the alarm. I gave as good a reckoning as any of the Stoneborn, and I perhaps got a few of them with my trusty hammer. Like hitting leaves and twigs, those Dark Elves are. They faded away like morning mist just as the first light hit, and the damage they had done was great. They had hit our baggage train and killed our Girabis, poor blundering beasts, and just like that, our whole venture was hamstrung. A curse of ash and ruin on the sharp ears!"
Durhit continued, “The blackguard Farilse never faced us in open battle after that. He hit us again and again and finally forced Hayles’ surrender.” The dwarf paused for a moment, as if the memory caused him bittersweet pain.
“My sister Evenes could only afford the ransom for her man, Nolat. I don’t blame her in truth, as it was more my idea to go about on that slag heap of an adventure. She promised that once she and Nolat started work on the new claim they had, they’d find a way to pay my bond price. But with no way to pay my immediate ransom, Farilse sold us to a passing slaver caravan. Those vultures are always about the edges of war, like flies to a fresh corpse. Now, here I am in Ansan, mining iron ore for manlings to make weapons to wage war upon one another.”
Something must have struck a chord with the wildman as he silently patted the dwarf on the shoulder in compassion only to be brushed off brusquely. I, too, fell silent, though for another reason. Something the dwarf said set off something in my mind, like suddenly remembering an important memory.”
Then I found it, the spell Rust. Like a slippery eel, it had always wriggled its way from my attention. Circumstances had meant I never had any leeway to experiment with its use. Determined now, I called out to it and was met by resistance.
Black slithering things crossed the edges of my vision and cold sibilant whispers caressed my ears, making me shiver as electricity traveled down the nape of my neck. A sense of wrongness so profound and utterly inimical to all things filled me.
Wanting to release this dark energy as soon as possible, I eyed a random slave engaged in evening conversation in the corner of my eye. Focusing my target, I surreptitiously cast the spell at his manacled feet.
Black lines of power left me then, seemingly invisible to everyone else, wrapping around the chains like velvet lightning as he continued talking. The whispers slowly left me, the feeling of wrongness lessening, but I could still see the dark lightning working its way around my target’s iron chains. Gradually now, the lightning danced around the metal, slowly and steadily like a funeral procession.
Where it touched, a few dots of orange and red could be seen as the metal was oxidized at an accelerated rate. The spell had only cost me a single point of Mana. I made every effort to hide the grin on my face as I looked back at my companions, questioning looks on their faces as I suddenly rose to my feet. I had found the key to my chains. Explaining to them that I thought I saw the ghost of a familiar face, they nodded sympathetically at my false hope.
Bitterly, Durhit shared that he had often done a similar thing when new dwarves were welcomed to the mines. We talked about small things of little importance, and I learned more of the common knowledge of this world. The name of the world I found myself in was called many things by its innumerable people.
But here in this area, known colloquially as the 'Grieving Lands' due to the sudden, tumultuous storms that were endemic to the region in the later months of the year, the locals called the world 'Gesthe.' This meant 'Garden' in the language of the First People, as the Elves liked to call themselves. The Grieving Lands were but a small part of an enormous world that was broken up into massive continents, which according to Durhit were the bones of land dragons.
We talked also of strange and fanciful places. Durhit spoke of his home, the "Beacon Mountains," an active volcanic range. The fiery chasms would frequently erupt with flame and ash, the dwarf recounted with a grin. I couldn't help but ponder what kind of people would willingly inhabit such a perilous environment.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Somewhere in the conversation, there was talk of a place to the far west called the ‘Glass Fire Sea.’ Here sailors feared to navigate its treacherous waters as great crystalline glass formations floated on its becalmed surface, burning any ship to blackened husk that got too close.
Despite the danger, some savvy or desperate captains were willing to take the risk, venturing forth under the cloak of moonless nights to collect precious fragments of the glass. Such treasures were highly sought after by the great universities of Quas, willing to pay a high price for the rare and valuable material.
The flames of adventure were lit once more in my heart, and I could feel a desperate need to be free taking deeper root there. However, before too long, we were herded back into the slave stables. Before going to sleep, I sat up and cast Rust silently, picturing iron manacles, and released the energy in random directions in the room. The black lightning from my spell was invisible, even to me in the darkness. I knew the spell was being cast as I could see my Mana drop in steady increments, and on the ninth cast, I was rewarded with a notification.
You have gained 1 Intelligence.
Lying back down on my cot, I perused my character Status. Like the other day, I had gained some nominal experience from mining. But more importantly, I now had the tools to make a bid for freedom. I needed the patience to see my growing plans through, and it felt like my chains chafed more than usual now that a path to liberty could be seen. I yearned to feel and experience the best this fantasy world had to offer, and not just be a slave to destiny.
STATUS
Calling: Gilgamesh Level 6 Acolyte of Avaria
Strength: 20
Dexterity: 13
Constitution: 27
Intelligence: 17
Wisdom: 12
Charisma: 9
Luck: 13
SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES
Pain Nullification (lvl.1)
Power Strike (lvl.2)
Endure (lvl.2)
Stealth (lvl.1)
Rest (lvl.2)
Backstab (lvl.2)
Dodge (lvl.2)
Polearms (lvl.2)
Dual Wield (lvl.1)
Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2)
Mining (lvl.2)
Unarmed Combat (lvl.3)
Hammers (lvl.1)
SPELLS & MAGIC
Heal (lvl.5)
Rust (lvl.1)
Identify (lvl.2)
Silent Casting (lvl.1)
GIFTS
Curse of Entropy: -20% all starting attributes.
Experience to next level: 850/991
Health: 92/111
Stamina: 13/43
Mana: 1/11