Chapter 31: Base Camp
Regarding the feasibility of partially replicating the natural monster spawning process in order to create custom materials – I have found it to be possible, albeit completely impractical. The sheer quantity of mana that had to be sourced, as well as the massive, one hundred meter diameter thousand-layer formation array that I found necessary to safely control the reaction, all in order to create a simple square of hard leather brings another question to my mind: How in the dickens does this happen naturally!?
Also, is the natural process more efficient than mine? Or less? That brings to mind a whole host of new questions…
- An unknown scholar
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What now?
Waking up, I find myself asking this question. We’re free, we can do whatever we want… What now?
When I ask the others, Jakin shrugs and says, “It boils down to whether we want to stay here or not. If we be staying here, we build a base – I don’t want to be sleeping in a tent forever. If we don’t, then we make a temporary camp until we can find someplace better.”
“Well, this place isn’t that bad…” I muse, taking a drink of water. I make a face.
“But?” Xiltroth prompts.
“But this pond water tastes weird.” I say in disgust.
Jakin nods. “Temporary base it be. We’ll collect the wood, you two clear an area.”
The twins fetch hatchets from their packs and start hacking at the trees, and we try to clear the area of twigs and leaves. I find myself a leafy branch to use as a rake that speeds the process somewhat, and we’re soon done.
“Now what do we do?” Xiltroth asks.
I look over to our tents. “May as well clear the area around the campfire as well.”
We soon complete that as well. I shout over to the dwarves, “I don’t suppose we can help with getting wood?”
“We only have two hatchets!” Boaz shouts back over the sound of a tree cracking to the ground.
“Ah.” I scratch my head. “I suppose we should collect firewood or something, then.”
Me and Xiltroth split up and wonder through the forest in search of suitable sticks. We’ll probably have plenty of long-burning logs after the dwarves are done with those trees, but it’s always useful to have a good supply of kindling as well.
As I move through, I mark the trees with my mithril knife, leaving a trail that I can easily follow back to the camp. The knife holds an edge quite well – last time I had to hone it was after its violent encounter with a city wall.
A flash of brown dashes past. Making a snap decision, I leap onto its back. The deer collapses under the combined weight of me, my armour and the various miscellaneous things I have in my backpack. I cut its throat so that it doesn’t have to deal with a broken back.
…Most of my sticks broke.
Hah… I gather them all up with one arm and drag the deer along with the other as I head back to camp.
When I get there, I shake my head and sigh. Looks like Xiltroth came across a deer as well. What’ll we do with all the extra meat?
“We had the same idea, huh? Well, that’s meat for the next few days.” Xiltroth notes from where he’s lying in the grass.
“Yep.” I facepalm. “Jakin, Boaz! How’s it coming along?”
“We only have hatchets to process this wood! How do you think it’s coming along!?” Jakin shouts back. “It’ll be a few hours before we finish this!”
“The building?”
“The wood!”
Xiltroth and I share a glance. “Want to go, I dunno, fight some monsters or something?”
“Sure.”
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Over the next couple of days, the dwarves construct a small, simple wooden cabin. It only has a single room, but the roof has been layered with leaves and grasses to make it mostly waterproof, and the walls provide shelter from the wind as well as much better protection from monster attacks than simple canvas. Not that we’ve ever had our tents attacked, simply keeping a fire going and a watchful eye at night is enough to ward many monsters away.
The rest don’t live long enough to encroach upon our sleeping space.
But this is uncharted territory, and it’s impossible to know how strong the monsters we might encounter will be before-hand.
Anyway, while the twins were doing that, we didn’t have much to do; we were mainly physical labour. So, we made a few miscellaneous improvements to the campsite: expanded the campfire and built a small rock wall around it to prevent the fire from spreading to the grass surrounding it… which we also dug up and cleared out for good measure.
With our knives. What? Not like we had any better digging tools, and mithril doesn’t stain. Cutting off the top layer of soil and roots piece by piece was easy enough, if somewhat time consuming. Washed them off afterwards, too. In boiled water. If we did it in the lake, I think they might’ve ended up dirtier than before we cleaned them.
Apart from that, me and Xiltroth put our noggins together and set up a little tripwire around the camp. We didn’t really have a bell or something we could attach to it, but it’s not hard to cobble together something that makes a little noise. We just borrowed one of the twins’ picks to pierce a hole in the handles of some spare cutlery – the metal is fairly soft – and strung them up together.
Since all that is done, we have ourselves a fairly comfy camp site.
From then on, we start going on expeditions to find another, preferably better, water source. We don’t have the resources – or skills, for that matter – to make maps, so instead, we end up having to keep an eye out for characteristic landmarks: a lightning struck tree, strangely shaped outcroppings on the side of hills, mossy boulders, particular patches of easily recognisable greenery, and so on and so forth.
Each expedition, we choose a direction and keep approximately to it, from landmark to landmark until our supplies start to dwindle to around half of our original supply. After that, we have no choice but to head back to camp.
It usually takes around four days each expedition – that’s the longest we can safely last, based on how much water we carry: we only have so many water bottles. Food we can usually hunt on the way, but sometimes there just aren’t any animals and around, and we’re forced to return to camp early.
We no longer have the luxury of dried meats and long-lasting rations, as there is no place to buy them from and we don’t know how to produce them, so we can only hunt for fresh food every day.
Four, five trips pass without us finding much more than muddy puddles, which translates to a bit less than three weeks with no success. By now, we’re quite sick of the taste of this pond water.
Another week passes without the trickle of water gracing our ears.
It is now our eight expedition, and hopes aren’t high. Our supplies are already dipping towards the point at which we usually turn around.
We reach the land mark we have been heading towards, and I take a look around. As per usual, there isn’t any indication of water anywhere. Sighing, I start to turn around in preparation to head back to camp.
“Why don’t we go to the top of that hill?” Xiltroth suggests. “It’s not far. Maybe we’ll be able to see something from the top?”
The hill in question is still about a kilometre out, and at this point I’m tired of walking, and of this disgusting water.
“Fine.” Jakin groans tiredly. “At least we’ll be able to check that there really is nothing at all out here.”
Seeing that everyone else is already set on going there, I sigh again. “Let’s get a move on, then.”
We jog over to the hill and hike to the top. It’s not a massive hill, but as the land is mostly flat it still allows for a much higher vantage point than anywhere else in view.
I look out into the distance, and I’m instantly lost for words. The view is stunning, particularly as the sun is just setting, bathing everything in an amber glow, but that’s not the reason for my speechlessness.
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Off in the distance, just barely visible, is a river. A river that’s flowing roughly perpendicular to our direction of travel.
“If we had just kept going instead of turning around on our first trip, we would’ve made it.” Jakin groans, shaking his head in annoyance.
Our expeditions were always headed north, for obvious reasons. Some were more to the east, some more to the west, but the river is so big that all of them would have met up with it had we kept moving instead of turning around.
“It seems so…” I sigh. “Thank god Xiltroth suggested we climb this hill. Who knows how long it would’ve taken us to realise otherwise?”
“Aye.” Boaz scratches at his beard from underneath his helm. “Let’s be on our way before sundown. We have a river to get to.”
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Holding my water bottle to my lips, I tentatively take a sip. Tasting the water, I take another couple of gulps. “It’s clean.” I declare.
Everyone grins and starts emptying their water bottles onto the ground.
We are now at the river, and I just had the first taste of its water after boiling some.
As I said, the taste is clean. The location is good as well, so we’ll set up base here.
“All right. Let’s get started.”
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This time, we aren’t in a forest, so we have to roam a bit farther abroad. Thus, we all go, even though only two people can actually cut down the trees. The other two help fight off monsters as we travel, as well as helping to carry the wood back.
The twins fell a couple of trees, strip them of their branches, then we haul them back to camp, such as it is.
As they chop repeatedly at the trunk of a tree, me and Xiltroth sit and twiddle our thumbs, idly watching out for roaming monsters. I roll an acorn between my forefinger and thumb; the ground is littered with them!
A loud cracking sound splits the air, and I watch as the tree thunders to the ground. It’s a big one… and thus, an absolute pain to drag back. Sighing, I look at the acorn in my hand.
Wait, acorns are like tree seeds, right? They’re pretty small, too… Should be simple enough to take some back and plant them. I don’t know how to grow trees, but if we plant enough of them, some of them will survive, right?
Than again, it’ll take years before we start getting anything out of them, decades perhaps… Well, there’s no harm in trying. Taking out a spare sack – I have a few of them – I begin gathering up acorns, throwing away the ones that look like they have something terribly wrong with them but otherwise indiscriminately collecting a huge number of them.
It adds some weight to my pack, but it won’t make much of a difference when we’re lugging something of that size.
Gathering around the now de-branched tree, we put our arms around it and start to drag. After several long, sweaty, arduous hours, we manage to lug it back to camp. Dropping it, I heave a sigh of relief and leave the twins to their work.
Walking the brief distance down to the river bank, I wash off my hands and splash water onto my face. I honestly have no clue when the last time I had a bath was… regretfully tearing my eyes away from the sparkling clean water rushing past, I move a few minutes distance away from the camp.
Then, unsheathing my mithril knife, I get to digging little holes to plant these acorns. No time like the present, after all, and I don’t want to do it after I have a bath – who wants to dig in the dirt when they’ve just gotten themselves clean?
Admittedly, a knife is not the most efficient digging tool, and this becomes clearer with each hole I dig.
If I only had a shovel… Or three. And perhaps another axe. Another few pots and pans wouldn’t go awry, either. Maybe a fishing rod. While we’re at it, a spade as well. Still, I can only wish. Not like we’ll just find tools lying in the grass.
As I idly fantasise about having the proper tools for the job, I keep digging little holes, plopping an acorn in, covering them up again and repeat. Over and over. In neat little rows, with quite a lot of space between them – I’ve already seen how big these things can grow - until they’re all planted.
After finishing all the physical labour, I have my bath in the river. A thin trail of dirt, dust and grime trails downstream in my wake, and I feel better than I have in a good while.
Benefiting from their previous experience, the twins manage to finish the cabin a bit quicker the second time around, and it looks a little less rough as well. They may be dwarves, but they never studied architecture – apparently, what little they know is just from observation.
And once again, I find myself without any definite goals, nothing new that I can think of to do. So, I sit by the banks of the river, just watching the water flow on, and on… And the slimes keep drifting by, one by one…
As I do so, I find myself thinking about the river. Rivers have many meanings, in life, folklore and literature. They provide life-giving water, allow crops to grow, quick transport for boats… The river Styx, which departed souls cross over upon Charon’s boat to pass into the afterlife in Greek mythology, the Sanzu river, of a similar nature in Buddhism. The flow of a river has even been compared to the flow of time, constant and inexorable…
There will come a time when there will be things to do. That time will not come any sooner or later for all the anticipation or fear in the world, so there is no point in longing for what will be. The only thing you can do is prepare for the future, work hard and maybe, when the time comes, you will be able to do what needs to be done.
Following this train of thought, I roll myself into the familiar position and start doing push-ups. Fighting will come. Exploring will come. Pain and happiness will come. Right now is the lull, the proverbial calm before the storm. We left the world behind us, but one day… one day I want to be able to go back. To be able to stand tall and not have to run for our lives every day of the week.
Until then, I’ll have to train and better myself, in hopes of creating a better tomorrow.
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Every morning, I go for a run. Every morning, I try and push myself a little bit further, even if it’s just another couple of steps. Of course, I don’t trust myself to remember a route after I start sinking into the rhythm of my footsteps, so I follow the riverbanks. Most days, I’d have to stop every now and again to fend off a monster attack, and that does sap energy I would otherwise be using to run.
Today is not most days. No monsters, fine weather, and I’m feeling good. I passed my personal best a minute back, and I’m revelling in that rush of euphoric adrenaline that comes with that sense of accomplishment.
Channelling that excitement, I keep pushing myself to set that flag labelled ‘personal best’ further than ever before. I’ll stop at that tree… No, the next. The next! Once I reach the top of that hill… Once… I reach the bottom… Once… I… Reach… That… Stone… Wall…
Stone… Wall?
I lift a hand and rub at my tired eyes. Squinting, I take another look. It isn’t a wall. It’s a bridge, a bridge that reaches over the river to link the opposite shores. Intrigued by the sight, I move towards it, but my lungs are screaming for air: I can only stop and rest.
After my chest stops heaving and my breathing returns to normal, I have a drink of water, take a deep breath and walk the short distance to the bridge. When I reach it, I sigh in disappointment: this isn’t the evidence of some formerly unknown civilisation, it’s the remnants of an age long past.
The stone of the bridge is old, worn down and covered in moss. I can spot several places where blocks have simply fallen out, and others that look like they’re debating whether they should follow along. It looks like nobody has set foot upon it in the last century and feels as much a part of the landscape as the river and hills themselves.
My brief thrill of excitement fades away, but is quickly replaced by curiosity.
Who built the bridge? One of the five kingdoms? Their borders probably would’ve been very different back when this was built, after all. Where did it come from, and where did it go?
Looking at the grass in front of the bridge, I can very faintly see the outline of what might have once been a road, but when I try to follow it, those slight traces quickly disappear into nothingness. Deciding to have a look at the other side, I start to cross the bridge.
Almost instantly, I slip on a patch of moss and almost crash to the ground in what would have undoubtably been a spectacularly loud collision. Luckily, my hand manages to grasp a tiny patch of the wall that isn’t completely covered, and I steady myself.
After crossing the dangerously slick bridge I find that the road is just slightly more visible here – just enough to let me follow it. To my surprise, I manage to follow it without losing track of the road for a few minutes; long enough for me to realise that I’m already way out from camp, still quite exhausted from my run and without many supplies.
I look up from the road; it’s heading directly towards a mountain range in the distance. And if the destination is in there, it’ll be a long while yet before I reach the end of the road. Sighing, I turn around and make the long trek back to camp.
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“You were out much longer than usual.” Xiltroth remarks, opening his eyes to look at me as he sits idly by the fire.
“Ran a lot further than usual, came across something interesting.” I respond, plonking myself down next to him, rubbing my sore legs in an attempt to relieve the pain. “Had a look into it before heading back, so no surprise there.”
“What sort of ‘something’?” He asks with faint interest.
I shrug. “An old bridge across the river. It’s mossy and crumbling, but I could just make out the remnants of a road heading from one end of it. Followed it for a short while, and it seemed to be heading towards those mountains in the north.”
“Hmh.” Jakin grunts, striding into camp. “Could be something interesting at the end of it.”
“Or nothing at all.” Boaz counters, walking alongside him.
“Nah.” I casually reject. “There’ll be an old ruin at the very least. Might be nothing in said ruin, but there should at least be something there. What fool builds a road to nowhere?”
“Yeh have a point.” Boaz shrugs.
“So, we up for a trip?” I ask.
“Sure. Worst comes to worst, we be spending another few days travelling without finding anything. Not like we aren’t used to that.” Jakin smiles wryly, Boaz and Xiltroth nodding in agreement.
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We set off as soon as we fill up our water bottles and store a few remnants of cooked meat to snack on. Reaching the bridge again takes considerably longer than the first time, since we aren’t running at quite the pace I was. Still, we get there before mid-day.
“Watch your step – it’s slippery.” I warn the others before we step onto the worn stones.
We make good headway through the day, but eventually stop and pitch tents.
The next morning, we continue on our journey. As the day wears on, me and Xiltroth are having an increasingly difficult time keeping track of the road.
I squint at a patch of grass, wondering if the left half of it being slightly but notably shorter than the right half is an indication that the road continues this way or an indication that I’m overthinking things.
“Oh.” Mutters Boaz. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
Looking into the sky, I see the offending clouds; they’re quite dark and by the looks of it, coming our way.
“Oh great, another night camping in the rain.” I moan shortly. “Well, it’s a bit too late to turn back now. We’ll just have to deal with it.”
We continue at an accelerated pace, and by now I can’t honestly say whether the ‘road’ we are following actually exists or is a figment of my imagination, but Xiltroth still seems fairly confidant that we’re heading in the right direction, so we press on regardless.
The mountains are only a stone’s throw away when the rain starts to pelt down upon us, and it’s then and there that we well and truly lose all sight of the road. It just so happens that we are at the bottom of a downward slant in the landscape – precisely where you don’t want to be when it’s raining.
So we hurry onwards under the pouring rain, hunching our shoulders uselessly as dirt turns to rock under our feet. Our path leads us to a narrow pass between two sheer cliff faces, which mercifully guides us slowly upwards.
But then the pass ends suddenly, cut off completely; no way to go but backwards.
“Rargh!” Jakin kicks a rock in frustration.
The rock shifts slightly.
The rocks above it shift slightly.
The massive pile of rocks said rock was participating in collapses, the rocks rolling back down the path – and revealing the bleak darkness of a cave entrance.
“…I meant to do that.” Jakin insists triumphantly.
“Later, let’s get out of the rain!”