Battleborne Page 6

  “So, short people lived here?” He eyed the width of the sleeping alcoves again. “Less than five feet tall. Based on the table height, I’d say more like three or four feet. Dwarves? Goblins? They must have spent some time here, to go to the trouble of carving beds out of the wall.”

  Stepping closer to the alcoves, he noted strange looking symbols carved into the stone above each one. “Name plates, maybe?” something clicked in his head. “Not sleeping alcoves, but burial alcoves? But they’re all empty. So, have they been robbed? Or just never got used?”

  He turned and sat on the table, it being slightly higher than the too-short stump stools, staring at the writing.

  Skill level up! Your Examine skill has increased by +1!

  Dwarven Runes

  You have discovered a cave in which dwarven runes are carved into the stone.

  Max was now aware that the carvings were runes, but could not read them. “I guess that’s a separate skill? I suppose it would be too easy just to magically be able to read a new language just by staring at it for a few seconds.” He reached out and traced one of the runes with his forefinger claw. It felt… nice. There was a slight tingling sensation. Moving closer to the wall, he continued to trace the next rune, then the next. As he reached the end of the name, or phrase, that was carved above that particular alcove, the entire thing glowed faintly. There was a whispering sound, and Max felt a breeze pass through the cave. The soft glow became brighter, and Max realized it wasn’t the rune itself, but an image within the alcove. Stepping back, he saw what he could only describe as a ghost.

  It glowed blue, and was becoming clearer and more solid by the second. An image of a dwarven warrior, laying still as stone in the alcove wearing full armor. Atop his chest was a double-bladed battle axe, upon which rested gauntleted hands. A feeling of great sorrow washed over Max as he studied the dead warrior. A closer look showed great rents in his armor, a massive dent in his horned helmet. His ghostly faced was ruined by a wicked slash that began above his eye, extended thru the empty socket, bisected his nose, and continued across his face on the other side.

  The breeze returned, and this time Max detected a word in the whisper. It sounded like “Coldstone…”

  And just like that, he knew what the rune said.

  “Coldstone.” He addressed the ghostly image. “Was that your name?” Max was a little disappointed when it didn’t respond or react in any way. After a moment, the ghost faded, as did the rune. It was just carved stone over an empty alcove again.

  Max decided to try another. He moved to the alcove on the far left, closest to the front of the cave. Once again he slowly traced the rune, and again it glowed. The ghost that appeared this time was another dwarf, but based on the shape of her breastplate, a female. A crossbow lay across her body, a quiver of quarrels at her side. The lower half of her left arm was missing, and there was a jagged split in her armor across her belly. Unlike her comrade, she did not have a beard. This time when the whisper came to him, he heard “Goldenhair...”

  “So your name was Goldenhair. Nice to meet you.” Max whispered, smiling at the ghost until she faded away. One by one, he activated the runes of the others. A dwarf with a massive two-handed war hammer was named Trollbane. Two of them were named Ironwall, each of them covered by a massive shield, one with a hammer set on top, the other a one-handed axe. The last warrior was taller and bulkier than the rest. There was a simple metal circlet around his head, a stylized hammer emblem at his forehead. Each hand held a wicked looking axe, both draped across his chest. Max didn’t see any wounds, or damage to his armor, at first. But when he looked closer, he saw that the dwarf’s head wasn’t quite attached to his body.

  “Falgrim Stonebinder.” Max repeated the name whispered to him, reading the rune at the same time. “The only one with two names. Were you some kind of noble?”

  The rune flashed, and a tremendous wave of emotion washed over Max. Sorrow, guilt, rage, regret. The feelings were so strong that Max dropped to his knees, weeping. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall as the torrent of feelings swirled around him. He began to echo the feelings in his own heart, the sorrow and regret over losing his men, guilt for not being able to save them. He was drowning in it all, when he felt a pressure on the top of his head, and it all washed away. “Well met, noble one.”

  Opening his eyes and leaning back, Max saw that the ghost of Stonebinder had faded from the alcove. He quickly turned to identify the speaker, and was shocked to see a dwarf standing behind him, looking very much alive. He was dressed in ornate chainmail armor, two swords crossed in sheaths on his back. He stood maybe four feet tall, with dark eyes, pale skin, and sported a long beard as white as Max’s hair.

  Smiling, the dwarf patted Max on the shoulder. He exuded an aura of great age, and strength. “Be not afraid, Battleborne. I know what ye are, and I mean ye no harm.” The dwarf moved to sit on one of the stumps, motioning for Max to sit as well. Foregoing the short stumps, Max simply folded his legs and sat on the floor.

  “I sensed yer presence when ye began to speak the names o’ me kinfolk. I heard them speak to ye, recognizin’ yer warrior’s heart. Ye shared their pain, and shared with them some o’ yer own.”

  Max just nodded, unsure how to respond.

  “Me name’s Regin. And you are?” The dwarf held out a hand.

  Max shook his hand, feeling the strength in the ancient dwarf’s grip. “I’m Maximilian Storm. Max.”

  “Welcome, Max. Ye be the first ta visit this tomb since I placed the young ones there, nearly a thousand years past.”

  “What… happened to them? I saw the evidence of battle wounds…”

  “Aye. Fought hard, they did, and took a great many of their foe down with em! Made me proud.” Regin tugged his beard. “It were during the orc wars, when them big brutes tried to root me kin from this mountain. Ten years, the war raged before the monsters gave up.” He paused to wave a hand, encompassing the cave in his gesture. “This were a sentry post. A good vantage point to watch fer approaching attacks. The orcs could no’ break the mountain’s main gates, so they searched and searched fer years, lookin’ for a back door. One o’ their scouts spotted this place, and they sent an elite force o’ raiders.”

  Regin sniffed, looking toward the empty alcoves. “Young Falgrim, grandson o’ the king, spotted the orcs approachin’ through the woods. He sent a runner to warn his grandsire, then sealed the way. He and his five comrades stood against two hundred orcs for the better part o’ two days before they fell. Fought like demons, they did. Killed a third o’ the biggest baddies the orc king had to send. Gave the king time to send a force ‘round behind and crush the orcs here.”

  Regin’s head drooped slightly. “I buried them meself, made this monument on the spot o’ their great victory.”

  Max didn’t argue. So few holding so long against so many was absolutely a victory.

  “I would have liked to have met them. It would have been an honor to stand with them.”

  Regin met Max’s gaze and stared for a moment, Max having the feeling the powerful dwarf was looking into his soul. “Aye, ye truly mean that. I see why Hildi and her sisters blessed ye.” Regin nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Max’s eyes widened. Regin knew the Valkyries!

  “If ye would honor me dead kin, I have a favor to ask of ye. Not far from here be the border o’ the orc lands. When ye’ve grown a bit,” He paused looking Max up and down and grinning. “In power, not in stature. Ye already be bigger’n most orcs!” Max grinned back and flexed a bicep, causing Regin to chuckle. He cleared his throat, and continued.

  “When ye reach level ten, venture into the orc lands, and seek vengeance for Prince Stonebinder and his champions. Bring me a hundred orc ears. But only the left ones! I’ll give ye a gold coin per ear. And if ye can bring me a champion’s head or two, I’ll reward ye somethin’ special for each.”

  Quest Received: Left Ears, Orc Tears

  Regin has reques
ted that you bring him the left ear of one hundred orcs, or more.

  Reward: 50,000 xp; One gold coin per ear; Increased reputation with all dwarven clans.

  Bonus Quest: Return with the heads of one or more orc champions! Reward: ??

  Max didn’t hesitate. “It’d be my pleasure, sir! Uhm, lord? I’m afraid I don’t know how to address you.”

  “Bah! I don’t hold to fancy titles. Nor do I expect to be paid respect I ain’t earned. Ye call me Regin. Now, while yer here…” He looked meaningfully at Max’s bare hide. “Can’t have ye runnin’ about fightin orcs in naught but a diaper! Come with me.”

  Regin hopped to his feet and walked toward a wall just to the right of Falgrim’s alcove. Without stopping, the dwarf stepped directly through the wall and disappeared. Max, who’d been following behind, paused for a moment. He reached out a hand to touch the wall, and it went right through. There was a slightly cold sensation, which immediately faded when he pulled his hand back.

  “Ahaha!” he heard the dwarf laughing from the other side. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Max stepped through.

  Chapter 5

  Passing through the illusory wall, Max found himself in a square corridor carved directly from the stone of the mountain. The floor, walls, and ceiling were flawlessly smooth, not a crack or bump to be seen. There was no light, but darksight allowed him to see just fine. Regin was disappearing through a doorway just ahead on the right.

  Following the dwarf through the door, Max found what was clearly an armory, but one like no armory he had ever seen.

  Every wall was covered in weapons racks. Rows of shelves and tables in the middle of the room were likewise filled with weapons, armor, and ammunition. There were hundreds of items, and Max’s heart longed to touch every single one of them!

  Seeing the longing on his face, Regin chuckled. “Aye, the heart of a warrior, indeed. These be but common items, mass produced by dwarven apprentices in time of war. But they’ll serve ye well enough. Now, let’s see. I’ll be havin’ to modify some o’ these to fit yer lanky arse.” He grinned at Max before turning to lift a pair of boots from a shelf. Looking at the boots, then down at Max’s clawed feet, the dwarf stepped over to a work bench and grabbed a steel file, tossing it to Max.

  “Trim down them beastie toenails a bit while I work!”

  Max sat on the floor once again and began to file down the toe claws that his stonetalon bloodline had granted him. Regin gathered up several more items, then left the room. A moment later there was the sound of hammer striking metal.

  When Max was finished with his pedicure, he got up and wandered around the room. Starting with the weapons racks on the wall, he touched one of the one-handed war hammers. The metal was cold, and didn’t feel especially attractive to him. Moving on, he pulled a halberd from a rack and balanced it in both hands, feeling its weight. About seven feet long, the haft was some kind of extremely dense wood. Like the table out by the tomb, the wood had aged and hardened for a thousand years or more. At one end was a combination of a hard steel spear point, a wicked looking curved axe head, and a thick steel spike on the opposite side from the axe.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout!” Max whispered to himself as he held the weapon upright. It was nearly as long as he was tall, and had a comfortable feel to it. With his reach and strength, Max could chop the legs from under an enemy from six feet away with the axe, or drive the spike down into a head. Poking holes in angry wolves with the spearpoint from a distance was a great way to keep from being bitten again. And worst case, he had the strength to launch this heavy weapon a good distance. With its weight, and the momentum of a throw, it would knock down most enemies even as it penetrated their body.

  Setting the weapon back in its place, he tried out several others. A two-handed war hammer like the one Trollbane had wielded appealed to him, too. Though, at his size, it was a one-handed weapon. The double-bladed battle axe practically sang to him when he picked it up. Each blade’s curved cutting edge was about two feet from tip to tip. Between the two blades a sharp tip extended from the end of the handle, which was about four feet in length. The handle was wrapped in leather in two places, one for each hand. A dull pointed cap on the bottom end of the handle could be used to smash and crush. In total, Max estimated that the weapon weighed maybe thirty pounds. But again, with his strength, it was easily wieldable with one hand.

  “Good choice.” Regin’s voice from behind startled Max out of his daydreams of fighting next to Stonebinder and his troops. Max gently put the axe back on its rack before turning to face the dwarf.

  “Sorry, was just fantasizing.”

  Regin grinned. “Ye need a better weapon than a sharp stick. Take it. And another if ye like. Yer big enough to swing two at once.”

  Max nearly hugged the old dwarf. “Would it be okay if I took one axe, and one of those hammers?” He pointed to the two-handed war hammer he’d held earlier.

  “Aye, take what ye like. But try these on, first. Even a giant like you has a limit to how much weight he can carry into battle. It ain’t no walk in the park, ye know. Ye have to be able to run, and fight, longer than the enemy!”

  This was a lesson Max had learned early in his career as a soldier. His first tour of duty in a combat zone, he’d tried to carry so much ammo, water, and food that he’d nearly passed out after hiking less than five miles. His sergeant had stripped him of most of it, passing it around to his teammates to carry, which didn’t earn him many friends. Though they had enjoyed consuming the entire box of HoHo’s he’d crammed into his pack. He didn’t get any.

  Max took the items that Regin handed him, using Examine on each as he put them on.

  Dwarven Steel Mail Shirt

  Item Quality: Very Good

  Armor: 65

  Durability: 500/500

  Dwarven Steel-Toe Leather Boots

  Item Quality: Very Good

  Armor: 45

  Durability: 750/750

  Dwarven Steel Greaves

  Item Quality: Very Good

  Armor: 50

  Durability: 400/400

  Dwarven Cotton Shirt

  Item Quality: Common

  Armor: 1

  Durability: 10/10

  Rhino Leather Pants

  Item Quality: Good

  Armor: 10

  Durability: 50/50

  Dwarven Steel Reinforced Leather Bracers

  Item Quality: Uncommon

  Armor: 20 each

  Durability: 100/100

  “Ye look like a true warrior now!” Regin slapped Max on the back. “Er, I didn’t bring ye no socks, cuz them beastie-feet would just rip right thru em.” The dwarf looked a little embarrassed.

  “These are amazing, thank you!” Max gushed, touching each piece of gear, all of which fit him like they were made for him. Which he supposed they were. Or, at least, altered for him.

  “Move about in it. Run around the room.” Regin instructed him. Max immediately did so, running, bending, jumping, and turning and twisting this way and that as the dwarf commanded. He felt no pinching or rubbing of one piece against another. His movement was slightly restricted compared to running around in a diaper, as Regin had put it. But not enough to bother him.

  When he’d been moving for about ten minutes, and Regin saw that he wasn’t sweating or breathing hard, the dwarf nodded. “Good enough! Now choose yer weapons. And don’t forget a dagger. There be times when yer up close n can’t swing those logs of arms ye got there.”

  Max quickly grabbed the two handed axe and hammer, the halberd, and a dagger. Regin went behind him, grabbing leather harnesses and sheaths, expertly adjusting the straps and placements like a bespoke haberdashery tailor. When they were done, Max had the axe and hammer strapped to his back in an X, one over each shoulder. There was a dagger sheathed at his waist, another in his boot. In his inventory he carried the halberd and a tall shield.

  “There! Be there anything else ye need?” Regin stepped back, adm
iring his work.

  “Uhm… do you have a flint and steel? Or some method of starting a fire?” Max asked sheepishly. The dwarf had already given him so much. “Also, a canteen, or water skin?”

  “Bah! I shoulda thought o’ that meself! Ye got dumped out here in the wild with nothin’ but yer skin n bones. I smell Loki’s idea of a joke, there. One minute!” Regin walked over to another shelf where there was a row of leather packs lined up. Grabbing the first one, he opened it and rummaged through it briefly. “Aye, here ye go. There be a pot, pan, fork and spoon, two cups, a firestarter, canteen, a week’s ration o’ biscuits and jerky, two health and two mana potions, bandages, and a hatchet for firewood. Standard issue for dwarven soldiers.” After a moment, Regin retrieved the file that Max had used on his toenails and stuck it in the pack as well, winking at Max. “In case ye need to look less monstery sometime.”

  Max was overwhelmed. He felt like he’d won the lottery, though to the dwarf these were just minor everyday items.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Regin.”

  “Ye can thank me by bringin’ me back a pile o’ orcish ears ta decorate this place with.” Regin looked around, then frowned. “I assume I don’t need to warn ye to keep this place a secret? Can’t have grave robbers and greedy merchants pokin around tryin to empty this armory.”

  Max shook his head. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “What’d ye climb up here for, anyway? Ye can’t see the ledge from down below, I made sure of it.”

  “I was climbing up to get a look around. Trying to find some sign of civilization. At least a road, or even a trail, that might lead me somewhere. Found this place by accident when I stopped for a drink.”

  “Good thinkin’. I can save ye the climb, too. Come with me.” Regin walked out of the armory and further down the hall. Reaching a T intersection at the end, he turned and pointed to the right. There was a heavy-looking wooden door. “Through there be a stairway. Follow it up, it’ll take ye to the ridgeline, and ye can get a good look around. Fill in yer map a bit. When yer done, follow the stair all the way down. There be an escape tunnel at the bottom, that’ll let ye out not far from where the road used to be.”