Battleborne Page 12

  “Aye, we know of the curse. Long ago many the fool perished there, attempting to earn their fortune in salvage. Only the strongest survived there more than a few minutes. Over time, the trespassing stopped, as the scavengers either died, or grew wiser.”

  The leader of Max’s escort snorted, then walked over to a table along with his comrades. They began to deposit the loot that Max had scavenged from the battlefield onto the table. It made an impressive pile. “This one spent a good bit o’ time there, me thinks!”

  “Ha! So he has. Though I see nothing more than scrap there.”

  “I was hoping to be able to work with the metal and learn smithing, highness.”

  “Bah! We’ll teach ya what ye want to know! And not by fiddlin’ with that rusty pile o’ scrap. I’ll pay ye ten gold coins for the lot, and set ye up with a supply o’ copper, tin, and iron bars to work with. Regin tell’d me to help you as I could.”

  Max was thrilled! Until he remembered Red’s advice about haggling. This seemed like a wonderful offer from the king, but would their opinion of him be lowered if he just accepted? On the other hand, would they be offended if he haggled with the king?

  “Twenty gold coins, and you have yourself a deal.” Max spoke just loud enough for the king to hear. Every dwarf in the hall went silent, and the king’s eyes widened. He sat back in his throne and crossed his arms.

  “Oh, ho! So ye’d refuse me generous offer? Do ye know the value of learnin’ under a dwarven smith?” Dorin Ironhand scowled at him.

  “Shit.” Max whispered to himself. Bowing his head, he replied, “My apologies, King Ironhand. I was advised that all dwarves enjoyed the contest of wills involved in haggling over goods and services. Apparently, I was given bad advice.”

  “Ha!” the king leaned forward again and slapped the arm of his throne. “Ye give’d up too easy! But not a bad try fer a beginner. I’ll give ye fifteen gold pieces, and the stock for ye to train on, for your pile o’ trash there. And that be me final offer!”

  Max eyed the king, silently considering whether to make another counter, as Red had suggested. After about five seconds, the rest of the dwarves burst out laughing. Max looked around at the good-natured smiles, and relaxed. “I’ll not press my luck this time, highness. But next time, I won’t be so easy!” This earned another round of laughter, and one of his escorts even clapped him on the back.

  “Good enough, young Max! Sergeant Battleaxe there will see ye paid, find ye a place to sleep, and feed ya. In the morning you’ll be meetin’ the smith that’ll train ye. Ye’ll be my honored guest while ye’re here, and I’ll be following yer progress. We’ll talk again soon about yer meetin with Regin.” He smiled at Max, then nodded his head at the escort, who led Max back out of the hall. Max immediately noticed that the king was still holding the war leader’s blade, but decided not to bring it up just then.

  As soon as they left the hall, the sergeant motioned for Max to follow him, as the rest of his escort broke up and headed different directions, presumably back to their homes and families. Max followed in silence, taking in the sights of the city.

  Battleaxe led him down three levels into the underground city, showing him various locations of interest. There was a market square filled with vendors selling crafted goods, raw materials, food, even scrolls and books. They passed half a dozen taverns, which seemed to be the most popular enterprise in the city. The sergeant pointed out his favorite, a two-story structure cut right into a cavern wall, raucous sounds emanating from all the windows. The sign out front featured a female dwarf wearing what amounted to a chainmail bikini and fur boots. It read, The Shield Maiden’s Charms.

  When Max raised an amused eyebrow at the sergeant, he laughed. “Legend has it that this be a portrait of me great, great grandame!”

  Max stared at the sign for a moment, grinning. “I can definitely see the resemblance!”

  They continued on, passing one of the small parks with green grass, a small grove of trees that Max didn’t recognize, and a pond. Dwarven children romped around, staging some sort of mock battle while adults supervised and shouted encouragement. A great gong rang out several times, and the kids all headed into a nearby building.

  Eventually they reached a level where Max could hear the constant sounds of hammers on metal. It was warmer on this level, the radiant heat from dozens of forges spreading through the corridors. Battleaxe first took him to a small room off a side corridor. “This be yer quarters fer the time being. Ye can leave yer gear here, no one will disturb it.” He cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. “Afraid we ain’t got a bed to measure up with a fella o’ yer stature.”

  Max dropped his pack on the bed, and leaned both his axe and hammer against the wall near the door. He eyed the room, which was designed for a four-foot dwarf. In truth, he wasn’t sure he could stretch out fully on the floor without touching the walls. “This will be fine. It’s warm down here, and I’m perfectly comfortable on the floor.”

  The sergeant nodded, then motioned for him to follow again. He led Max into a large open cavern where row after row of stone forges were blazing away. Around each forge were three workstations with anvil, bench, and tool rack. There were barrels of water, sand, and oil near each forge as well. Every single work station was occupied, most by younger looking dwarves, both male and female.

  The sergeant had to shout to be heard over the hammering and roaring of the forges. “This be the apprentice floor, where you’ll get yer chance to study smithing. Return here in the mornin’ at sixth bell, and one o’ the journeymen will get ye started.” He turned and pointed to a doorway not far down the cavern wall to his left. “In the meantime, here be the mess hall.”

  Max followed him into a wide hall with long tables and stone benches. There was room enough to seat several hundred, but at the moment there were maybe a dozen dwarves scattered about individually or in groups of two or three.

  “Food be available all day or night. As a smith, ye’ll learn there are times when the project yer workin’ on dictates yer schedule. There’ll be times when you’ll need to rush in here for a quick bite while yer metal’s heatin in the forge.” He walked Max up to a cafeteria style counter, where several cooks stood ready to dish up whatever Max chose. Max, having eaten in a thousand different chow lines, comfortably picked up a plate, along with a fork and spoon, and chose something that looked like beef stew with chunks of meat and vegetables. There was fresh bread, dark and thick, with both butter and honey. And a vegetable that resembled broccoli, with some sort of cream sauce.

  His plate full, he followed his guide to a nearby table, aware that all eyes in the room were following him. He looked up at the dwarves, smiling without showing his fangs and giving a friendly wave. A few of the dwarves returned the wave, or nodded their heads in an amicable manner. The sergeant grabbed a couple large mugs and a pitcher of ale from a side table, and they sat.

  It turned out he had to sit sideways on the end of a bench in order to eat, as there wasn’t room for his legs under the table. He didn’t mind. The food was delicious, especially the warm, soft bread. One or two at a time, the other dwarves came over and introduced themselves. As soon as Battleaxe mentioned that Max was a guest of the king, word spread through the ranks of the apprentices, and more drifted into the hall to grab a bite and say hello. Soon enough the table was full, and Max was regaling them with the details of his fight with the orc scout. When he got to the part about stomping on its neck, there were cheers and raised mugs.

  An hour and several mugs of ale later, the sergeant thumped the table. “Ye’ll be wantin to get some sleep. Got an early mornin’ and a busy day ahead of ye.”

  Max thanked him, and bid the dwarves good night before walking the short distance back to his quarters. Closing the door, he promptly shoved the bed to the far corner, and stripped it of pillows and linens. Laying them out on the floor, he oriented himself on a diagonal within the room, and lowered himself onto his makeshift bed. There was just en
ough room that neither his head nor his feet touched any walls.

  Laying on his back with his hands under his head, he asked, “Red, are you there?”

  “Always.” She appeared, standing on his chest. “You’ve been a busy boy.”

  He laughed, noting that she didn’t move when his chest rose and fell. “Yep. This is an interesting world. I gotta say, I’m having a good time.”

  “That’s probably the ale talking.” Red smirked at him. “The sergeant was correct, you should sleep.”

  “About that. I’m to report at the sixth bell. From the way he spoke, it sounds like that’s early. Do I have an alarm of some sort?”

  Red nodded. “The dwarves developed a bell system to keep time long ago. Living under the mountains, they aren’t able to see the passage of the sun in most places. So there’s a bell every hour, or a total of twenty bells. The morning bells are two-toned, a deep bell to mark the hour, and a higher tone to indicate morning. The afternoon and evening bells are simply the deep tone. One bell for each hour, up to ten.” She watched Max’s face to make sure he understood. “In any case, I’ll wake you at five bells, so you have time to wash up, eat, and be ready to meet your new torturer.”

  “Torture? They’re just going to teach me about blacksmithing. I’m not joining their army and going through basic training or anything.”

  “Ha! Smithing is hard work. And I’m sure whichever dwarf is assigned to you is going to test the limits of your strength and endurance. So get some sleep, and eat a good breakfast. Sleep easy, I’ll wake you when it’s time.” She started to fade from sight. “Oh!” She reversed herself, quickly looking solid again. “I almost forgot. I have the ability to do this…”

  Max’s vision lit up with a new notification.

  Offered Quest: Learn A Profession

  You’ve been given the opportunity to learn from dwarven smiths. Reach at least Novice level in blacksmithing, or another crafting profession. Reward: 1 gold coin; 1,000 experience. Reputation increase with the citizens of Darkholm.

  Accept Quest? Yes/No.

  “Wait, you can give me quests?” Max stared at her. “Why didn’t you do this before? Like, ‘learn to cook wolf steaks’ or ‘reach the dwarven city’? I could have been level two or three by now.”

  “Well, you see… this is my first time as a bonded guide. I just learned that I can issue a limited number of such quests until you reach level ten. Beyond that, I’m not sure. I’m working from limited information here.”

  “Oh, great. They gave me the new guy. Girl.” He looked at her as she scowled back at him. “No offense, Red. You’ve been great. But is there maybe a more experienced guide available?”

  Her face fell, and for a moment Max thought she might cry. He instantly regretted his words. But before he could apologize, she stomped her foot and shouted at him. “No! We’re soul bonded, you big clumsy oaf! You’re stuck with me till one or both of us dies!” She shot him a single-finger salute, then disappeared.

  “Shit. That was stupid. I’m sorry, Red.” He waited, searching the room for her, but she didn’t respond. After a while he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  “Get up, you giant sack of crap!” Red woke Max as promised at the sounding of the fifth bell. But she disappeared as soon as he was awake, and didn’t speak to him otherwise. He tried calling to her, but was completely ignored.

  Max didn’t don his armor, figuring the forge would be hot enough in just his leather pants and cotton shirt. He did wear his steel boots, as he had no other option at the moment. As he walked out and closed the door to his quarters, Max made a mental note to find the nearest merchants and purchase some necessities. Extra clothes and some leather boots being top of the list. He also wanted to find someone who could make him some kind of durable socks for wearing inside his boots. Ones that would work even when his toenails began to grow.

  He was in the mess hall, working his way through a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast, when an elder dwarf set his own breakfast on the table, sat down, and passed a small bag across the table to Max. The bag clinked when he dropped it.

  “Me name’s Vorin Oakstone, but ye’ll be callin’ me Master. This be the fifteen gold coins me king promised ye.” The dwarf met Max’s gaze for a few seconds, then shifted his focus to the food on his plate.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Master Oakstone. And thank you for this.” Max picked up the bag and tucked it into his inventory. “Also, I appreciate you taking the time to teach me.”

  “Bah! I expect ye’ll quit after the first day.” The dwarf barely paused in his eating to speak. “Few enough dwarves be fit to become a true smith. And I ain’t never met a… human, elf, whatever ye be, that could do half as well as the worst dwarf apprentice.”

  Max instantly like the old codger. He reminded Max of a drill sergeant he’d known long ago. “I’ll try my best not to disappoint you, Master.” He let the sarcasm in his voice shine through.

  The dwarf just nodded, eyeing Max’s mostly empty plate as he finished off his own food. “Are ye through? We’ll make an early start of it. No sense lollygaggin’ around here gabbin’ like a couple o’ novices before their first test.” He got up, depositing his plate and utensils on a side counter, and left the mess hall. Max quickly wrapped the last of his eggs and sausage inside a piece of toast and got up to follow. He finished his meal on the go, catching up to the short-legged dwarf without difficulty.

  He noted that several apprentices were already at their work stations getting set up for the day. Best Max could figure it, it was about half past fifth bell. The forges were already lit, the warmth of the cavern quickly making his shirt stick to him slightly. Master Oakstone led him to the far end of the last row of forges, to one that had an open station. “This be your station till I tell ye different.” He pointed to the anvil and bench. Pulling one of two stools out from under the work bench, he sat. Max took a seat on the other, feeling like a parent at a kindergarten teacher conference, forced to sit in the tiny chairs.

  “Tell me what ye know about metal.”

  “Well, I know that there are basic ores that are mined from the ground, that have to be refined to eliminate the impurities. I know that some are harder than others, and that they can be combined into alloys, like brass, bronze, or steel. I know that they are malleable when heated, and can be shaped. And that once the shape is correct, they need to be rapidly cooled to harden. I know that iron is heavier and more brittle than steel…” he drifted off, having just about summarized his entire knowledge of the profession. Then he remembered the stones in his bag.

  “I found these near my first campsite. The magnesite is flammable, and can be used to create magnesium, which is highly flammable. I figured out a way to mix it with my blood and earned the Alchemy skill.” He paused, frowning. “And before we start I suppose you need to know that I am one quarter troll, and that my blood is flammable.”

  The old dwarf just stared at him for a moment… then slapped his knee. “Baahahaha! Ye gots flammable troll blood in ye, and ye wanna become a smith? Ha! I might just decide to like ye, boy. We’ll wait n see whether ye blow yerself up, first.” He turned serious, frowning at Max.

  “What ye telled me be true enough. But any youngling o’ twelve years knows that much and more. We’ll have to start at the very beginning.”

  For the rest of the day, Max was shown each tool in the rack, and how to use it. He was handed bars of the various metals, told to feel their weight, tap, squeeze, smell, and even taste each one. Then he was set the task of working the bellows that kept the forge hot, learning to keep it at a precise temperature while he watched the other two apprentices work. The dwarf left him alone at that point, and didn’t return for four hours. He was clearly surprised to see that Max didn’t appear tired from the manual labor.

  “What’d ye learn?” The master demanded, sitting back on the same stool.

  “I learned how to keep the fire at the proper heat. I learne
d that you can’t bend cold iron without risking a break. And that overheated steel becomes weak. I learned that apprentice Copperbottom over there farts when he hammers after a long night of drink.”

  Oakstone grinned, but just kept going. “And yer not weary after half a day on the bellows?”

  Max shrugged. “Blessed with high endurance.” The dwarf just snorted and dismissed him for the day. Max went to the mess hall for a quiet meal, then got directions from one of the apprentices to the nearest market.

  It took him half an hour, and several wrong turns, to find the market. Luckily, despite his size and imposing features, the dwarves he encountered were friendly, and happy to set him back on the proper path. A few even gave him recommendations for vendors.

  Once he reached the square, he took his time walking around, visiting the various shops and stalls. There were tempting smells coming from a bakery that he couldn’t resist. Stepping inside, he followed his nose to a display with several kinds of pastries, some hot out of the oven. When he left, he was two silver poorer, and had three slots of his inventory filled with warm apple, chocolate, and cinnamon pastries.

  A similar occurrence happened when he came across a vendor selling meat on a stick, the grease just dripping off, sizzling into the flame below. Max bought himself a half dozen kabobs, and those took up another slot.

  Eventually he reached a general supply store, one that had been recommended by a kindly lady dwarf on his way to the market. Stepping inside, he smiled happily to himself.

  “This is what I’m talkin’ bout!” He muttered, taking in the rows and rows of shelves containing everything under the sun. From weapons and armor, to potions, clothes, crafting ingredients, pots, pans, magic wands, books and baubles.

  “Welcome to Fitchstone’s Emporium!” An elder dwarf with shockingly white hair waved from behind a counter. “Can I help ye find somethin’?”