Silver Peak, page 38
part #2 of Sky Realms Online Series
“Probably for the best.”
Three days later, the sun rose on Silver Peak Keep, the mountain shining bright.
Hall stood on the docks as supplies were loaded onto a medium-sized airship, Pike on his shoulder. The two-masted, two-engine ship bore Storvgarde colors and was named the Frozen Blade. The ship’s captain, named Hrothgrav, was a large man. A Level Seven sailor. As loud and boisterous as the Captain, the crew seemed a tad on the chaotic side for Hall’s liking. But it was the only ship that would sail up the mountainous coast, braving the rocs and shrikes, and land on a meadow in the middle of nowhere.
Hrothgrav took it as a challenge. He was looking forward to the risks, as well as the large amount of gold promised. Which Hall could supply. All counted, the companions had gained five hundred gold, three hundred silver, and four hundred copper. Most of which had gone to pay for passage on the Frozen Blade for a large amount of carpentry supplies, foodstuffs, clothing and bedding, various other items, six adventurers, a cow, a dragonhawk, a Bodin carpenter, and three Humans: an arrogant and constantly complaining administrator and two female farmers.
Hall had been surprised to find Hitchly and Dinah waiting for him at the Inn when he had returned from seeing Brient.
“There’s nothing for us here,” Hitchly had said. “Just bad memories.”
He had tried to dissuade them as much as he wanted them to come live in Skara Brae. Experienced farmers would be a huge boon, but he wanted them to understand what they were signing up for. They understood, or so they said, and Hall had finally agreed. Which led to more gold being spent on farming tools and seeds.
Besides gaining the new villagers and supplies, Hall and the others had spent the last couple days selling off their loot as well as buying new gear to replace the items that had been badly damaged. There were no trainers in Silver Peak Keep, so Hall would have to wait until the next time he could find one to learn Leap Rank Two. He had taken advantage of the city’s post office and sent out a couple of letters.
Most of the items they had recovered had been non-magical. Cronet’s twin long blades had been an upgrade for Caryn, bearing a minor enchantment for damage, but the mark Hall had found on them had been a reason to keep them instead of selling. Where blade met hilt on each blade was a mark that he recognized. A point up triangle with a half-circle above, the straight line of circle’s bottom midway through the triangle. It was the same mark that was on his own short sword.
Surprisingly, Berim and the Door Knockers had left them all alone. Hall had wanted to leave as soon as possible, and every day he thought that Timmin and possibly Caryn would be harassed. Or Berim would sabotage the ship to make them stay. But the thief did nothing.
Thinking of the thief brought back thoughts of Captain Hart and the Twisted Gale, the ship that had brought them to Edin from Cumberland. Hall knew Hart and his crew had experience loading and unloading from locations not set up with docks. He would have felt more comfortable with the smuggler’s ship and crew. With the winds, uneven ground, and no dock at Breakridge Meadow, Hall wasn’t sure how the Frozen Blade would fare. But then looking at Hrothgrav and his crew, Hall had a feeling they had done their fair share of loading and unloading in out of the way places.
The last of the supplies were being hauled aboard by the dock cranes. A load of wood planking ordered by Duncant. The small Bodin was at the rail, watching the planks being lifted into the air, hovering and shaking as the crane slowly moved them closer to the Frozen Blade’s hatch. Two of Horthgrav’s men were watching, directing the motions.
Hall picked up his traveling pack, slinging it over his other shoulder. Pike shifted as Hall started to walk away.
“Hold,” a voice said with authority. One Hall recognized.
With a grimace and sigh, he turned around to see Sergeant Brient walking toward him. Hall was surprised. Brient was out of uniform and had a large traveling pack over his shoulder. He wore an unadorned mail shirt, leather leggings and sleeves. A sword was hanging from his waist, a dagger across from it. A small buckler shield was over his shoulder.
“Sergeant,” Hall said in greeting, cautious. “We were just about to leave.”
“Glad I caught you then,” Brient said and paused. He now looked embarrassed, unsure of himself. “I...uhm...” he tried to continue but stopped.
“Sergeant?”
“Not any longer,” Brient said with a sigh. “It seems revealing Cronet as being behind an attempted overthrow stirred up a hornet’s nest.”
“You pissed someone off with those journals,” Hall guessed.
Brient nodded. He turned and spat on the ground. “Politics,” he cursed. “Turns out I was right about someone in the Guard higher-ups being on the Cudgel’s payroll. He wasn’t happy about losing his meal ticket.” Brient paused and looked back at the wall of Silver Peak Keep and the shining mountain behind it. “All those years I worked for this place and this is what I get,” he muttered bitterly.
Hall studied the former PeakGuard. He didn’t know much about Brient’s fighting ability, but the man was at least Level Five or Six and wouldn’t have advanced to the rank of Sergeant if he didn’t know how to hold a sword. But what Hall did know about was Brient’s integrity and how he worked. Brient believed in the greater good, the greater justice, and didn’t mind bending some rules to get there.
Just the kind of person Hall liked.
“I find myself in need of a Sheriff,” Hall started. “It seems my little village has gotten a sudden influx of citizens. And being out in the wilds, they could also use some protection.” He finished and smiled at Brient.
The former guard nodded.
“The further from this place, the better,” Brient said and followed Hall onto the Frozen Blade’s gangplank.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Hold the lines,” Hrothgrav barked.
Sailors rushed across the ship as the winds buffeted it. Up, down, side to side. The heavy ship was rocked, the engines barely pushing it forward. They were near a hundred feet over the meadow, Skara Brae a collection of grass slopes and circular dirt road far below. The wind flew down out of the mountains from the north, the Frost Tip Peaks, and slammed into the southern range, the Thunder Growl Mountains. It tried to escape into the plains of Edin but hit the Breakridge, which pushed it up. Over and over the wind swirled, slamming against rock.
Hall hadn’t remembered it being as bad down on the meadow itself. There had been wind, not gentle, but not like this. He held onto the railing, watching the land below. Small forms could be seen in the village itself, details hard to see this far up.
“Bring her down,” Hrothgrav bellowed.
He stood at the ship’s forecastle, next to the helmsman. His sailors ran back and forth, up the lines and across the deck. The helmsmen pulled a couple of the levers next to the great wheel. The engines strained, turning, and the ship’s bow pointed downward. Not steeply but at enough of an angle that all aboard had to hold tight.
The wind seemed to push against the Frozen Blade but the engines powered it down, and soon it broke through the wind as if through a barrier. There was still wind, still fierce, but now similar to what Hall had expected. The ship settled, more like it had been on the four-day long voyage from Silver Peak Keep.
Hall released the railing, his knuckles white. On somewhat unsteady legs, he walked back toward Hrothgrav, who gave him a chilly look.
“Some warning would have been nice,” the large Storvgardian captain growled.
“Had no idea,” Hall said in apology.
Hrothgrav grunted.
“You need a dock,” the Captain said.
Hall nodded and moved to the rail, Hrothgrav following. He looked down at the edge of the land, the meadow called Breakridge. It was rough, jagged, harsher than any other land’s edge where a dock had been built. He glanced at Hrothgrav, skeptical. The big man nodded.
“Don’t think can build a stable dock on that.”
“What about the flat part of the cliff?” Hall asked and pointed to the north at the highest plateau on the mountains overlooking the meadow.
That mountain had two flat areas, the lower one where Leigh’s Grove was, and a higher but smaller one. Hrothgrav shook his head.
“The winds,” was all he said.
Hall moved to the back of the airship as he flew over the meadow. He leaned against the railing, looking down at the grass swaying in the wind.
“Suggestions?”
“Bring us down to fifty,” Hrothgrav shouted before joining Hall at the railing.
The Frozen Blade shuddered, lurching as the engines shifted and started pushing it downward. The ship shook as the crew pulled the sails down.
“Here,” Hrothgrav stated. He pointed down at the ground they hovered over, a sheltered niche behind the extending wall of the Thunder Growls. “Pretty protected from the wind. Land docks are rare, but most ships can land on them.”
Hall thought about it and nodded. On the voyage up from Silver Peak Keep, he had come to the realization that Skara Brae would need a dock of some kind. The only way to get supplies to the village was by airship, at least until they were self-sustaining. It was too long a trek over dangerous land with no roads. The cost would be too high. Airship was the only way. Which meant a place for the ships to dock and unload.
“Anchors away,” Hrothgrave yelled as he walked away.
Hall turned to watch as four sailors ran to the corners of the ship and the light ballista attached to the decking. There were no harpoons loaded. Instead, they set large iron anchors attached to lines tied to cleats on the side of the ship. The anchors had pointed tips with curved spikes just behind, meant to slam into the ground and get lodged in, unable to be pulled out. Once loaded, the sailors tilted the ballista down and pulled the triggers. Four loud blasts of air came from the ship, seconds apart, followed by sounds of rock and dirt erupting. The anchors dug in, the ship swaying in the wind, but being held pretty much in place.
The Frozen Blade tilted and lurched but only a couple of feet instead of twenty or more. The anchor lines pulled taut and snapped, but held.
Hall headed to the cabins to gather his stuff, wanting to get out of the way as Hrothgrav supervised the unloading.
“Welcome to Skara Brae,” Hall said as he led the entire group, including Hrothgrav, toward the village. The airship hovered behind them, the engine noise loud. The rest of Hrothgrav’s crew were finishing the unloading, stacking all the goods and materials on the meadow.
Not much of the village was visible from the meadow, just the tops of a few grass-covered roofs. And the Gnomes working on them.
“Are those Gnomes?” Duncant asked, his voice rising shrilly. “What are they doing? They’ll ruin it all.”
The small Bodin ran toward the homes, yelling and cursing. The Valedale Gnomes stopped working, looking at the strange man rushing at them. They appeared unconcerned with Duncant’s wild shouting. They returned to their work as Duncant ran around the bottom of the slopes being ignored.
“Hopefully the Gnomes got some of the walls up,” Sabine muttered reaching up to scratch Salem under the chin. The Minx Cat’s purring was loud, almost in time with the Frozen Blade’s engines.
Hall sat on a rooftop looking out over the dark sky of night beyond the edge of the meadow, stars and the dark shadows of islands. Behind and below, in the village, he could hear people talking and laughing. They were enjoying themselves, eating and drinking. The Gnomes had indeed restored some of the houses’ front walls, cleaned out a couple, and made them somewhat livable. Everyone, including the newcomers, were essentially still rough camping but it was a start.
And things would only get better.
He would work out a delivery rotation with Hrothgrav, and hopefully, the letters he had sent out would yield results. He had Timmin to help him with the village now, to get things up and running. Brient could start on some defenses. Hitchly and her mother could start farming. Leigh had the Grove to clean up. And there were other areas of the land surrounding Skara Brae to explore. As the Frozen Blade had flown in, Hall had noticed a dark spot on the island’s cliff below the edge. A cave of some kind.
Pulling up his character sheet, Hall tried to decide where to place his newest Attribute Point. His Agility was looking good, much higher than anything else. He was afraid he was starting to get a little lopsided. As much as he wanted to put the Point into Strength or Wellness, he had a feeling that Charisma or Wisdom would be his best bet. Charisma was something he would need in the days and months ahead if he really wanted Skara Brae to become something.
The available Point disappeared and his Charisma total went from eleven to twelve. He didn’t feel any different. Probably not enough to make a huge difference, he thought but every little bit would help. Looking over his Character Sheet, Hall was satisfied with his progress. He still had some work to do on the various Skills and to finally decide which ones to keep and which to raise. He was looking forward to exploring the new one, Strategy, more.
Closing the Character Sheet, Hall opened the village’s Settlement Interface and was surprised at the changes.
Skara Brae Town Stats:
Lord: Hall
Status: Ruins
Morale: N/A
Government: N/A
Appointed Officials: Timmin, Administrator
Brient, Sheriff
Population: 11
Production: Carpentry Rank One - 0%
Farming Rank One - 0%
Faction: None
Allies:Gnomes of Valedale
Brownpaw of Fallen Green
Trade Partners: N/A
Enemies:N/A
Next to Carpentry and Farming under Production were more menus to open. Mentally clicking on Farming, he opened it up to see a listing that had just two names, Hitchly and Dinah. Alongside were Classes and Levels. Each had Farmer as a Class. Hitchly was Level Three and Dinah was Level Five. Next to each of their names was another menu. Opening that, he saw nothing. It was empty, a place for their known crafting patterns and knowledge to populate. Along the top of the main menu was a progress bar, currently at zero. Over it was written “Maximum Daily Output”. Hall assumed the rest of the page would get filled in as crops were planted and livestock harvested. A quick look at Carpentry showed the same, just with Duncant’s name and Carpenter Level Six. On each of the first menus was another progress bar, along the bottom. Over these was written “Production To Next Rank”.
He was going to look deeper into the menus when he heard a noise, someone walking up the stairs from the village below.
“Hall,” he heard Leigh’s voice. A soft whisper carried on the wind.
“Here,” he replied.
A moment later, she was sitting beside him on the roof, looking up at the night sky and the stars.
“Beautiful,” she said.
“Yes,” Hall replied, but he wasn’t looking at the stars.
Leigh smiled and glanced at him shyly.
Hall looked into her eyes. She was an NPC, but so what? He was nothing but a computer program now. This life felt real. It was real. And so was she. He couldn’t deny the attraction and knew she felt the same way.
Leaning in, Hall saw her moving closer as well. Their lips met. A deep kiss, a wonderful kiss. A perfect kiss.
Epilogue
“Good morn, Neighbor,” the Bodin said as he walked by.
The voice wasn’t that shrill, but to Davit it was shrill enough. All Bodin voices were. The NPC ones, anyway. His didn’t sound that way. He hated the way it sounded. Hated being a Bodin. But at least his voice was somewhat like his own, just a little sharper.
Davit forced a smile as he waved at that Bodin and the many others he passed. The village, Crackleberry, was filled with them. As it should be. It was a Bodin village after all. Nestled in the Graystone Foothills, a small region on the southern edge of the island of Huntley. They lay in the eastern shadows of the Hardedge Mountains, home to the Dwarven city of Axestorm Hall. The Bodin barely saw their Dwarven neighbors, the two races rarely mixing.
Homes were built into the sides of the hills, some being two or three stories buried underground. Each had a good bit of wooden walls and roofs exposed. The fronts were decorated in wooden designs, planters, and vines. Stone walks led to each from the hard-packed dirt roads that meandered through the village of two hundred Bodin. There was no order. To Davit’s eyes it was chaotic.
But it suited the Bodin.
The small race was attuned to the natural elements of the world. Perfect Shamans. Their homes and village reflected that alignment, at one with the natural world. Unlike human cities that seemed to force themselves upon the land, the Bodin village was part of it. Welcomed.
Like Davit had been.
He had been there for three days so far. His story was simple. A wandering adventurer just looking for a place to rest. It was close enough to the truth, even if it wasn’t the truth. The villagers had accepted him quickly and easily. Adventurers were rare these days, they said. Used to be so many in and out of the village, exploring the mountains, but not anymore. They had asked questions at first, but he had pushed them off. They wanted to know his adventures. They wanted stories.
He had none to tell.
Could he tell them how he had killed numerous NPCs? How he wasn’t one of them? How he was a human male from Earth and had become trapped in the game? How they were just computer programs and he was a true Player? Would they even accept that they were in a game? Would they know what an NPC even was? Would they accept that he was their better?
And he was. Davit knew this.
The villagers had accepted his standoffish nature easily. He was a hardened adventurer, after all. That kind of life couldn’t help but weigh on a person. He had a haunted look and they responded. Still friendly, not keeping their distance, but not intruding on his privacy.
