Stealthcaster Read online

  Axe Blow struck the lurching beast, and as Sol suspected, it didn’t break the skin, but it threw him forward, toppling him ahead, sending him tripping and sprawling over the low clutch of scrabble branches.

  The Troglodyte turned, glaring at him in anger as he went over forward, plunging into the thick murk of mud and slop, splashing and gurgling around him. Twisting around so his head and mouth were pointing up the creature bellowed a pained and anguished cry as the mud grabbed onto him, latched on and slowly began dragging him down into its bubbling churn. Solomon almost felt guilty watching and listening to it, as the poor, dumb reptile drew down within the mud, scrambling hard, with every thrust and lung of arms and legs only serving to draw it down deeper.

  “Man, that’s a terrible way to go,” Solomon whispered, watching the Troglodyte get slowly pulled down, the dark mud creeping over its lumpy scales, mouth sputtering and arm clawing for the sky.

  A rush of leaves and feet burst from the trees to Solomon’s right and he whirled just in time to see Ella charge toward the pool of festering mud, her staff in hand. She landed in a graceless stumble at the edge of the roiling swamp water and held her staff out to the struggling creature.

  “Grab it!” she cried, thrusting the staff toward him.

  His eyes widened in apparent disbelief, coughing as some of the mud worked its way into his open mouth, his long three-fingered hand hesitating for a moment, not trusting the gesture.

  “Come on!” Ella screamed and held the staff out further. Finally, the Troglodyte lunged, working his way through the thick substance, grabbing the staff with a clutching hand. His weight threatened to pull Ella off balance and she stepped forward, teetering on the edge of the mud. Solomon dashed to her immediately, Megyn coming from the other side and they both latched arms around her, pulling her back, then moved to the staff and helped her pull, slowly dragging the sputtering lizard through the thick mud and gunk. It took a handful of long, precarious moments, but finally, the creature emerged on the dirt covered edge of the ground, clawing his way out of the mud on all fours, shaking his snout and coughing loudly.

  The moment he emerged safe, Solomon took a cautious step back, taking his axe out again, glaring at the lizard, and Megyn repeated the motion on the other side, only with her short sword instead. Rising to a kneel, the lizard creature looked at each of them in turn, holding their gazes for a moment before looking at another one of them, exchanging meaningful looks.

  Finally, he leaned forward and pressed his head to the dirt, unfolding his arms in an apparent bow of appreciation and thanks. Looking up from his low forward bow, he smiled softly.

  “Tha… thank you,” he growled in a hoarse hiss.

  “You can speak?” Solomon replied.

  “You know the common tongue?” Megyn asked.

  The Troglodyte nodded softly. “We… are a simple breed. But many of us can speak, yes. I am one of our clan elders.”

  Ella dropped down onto one knee, lowering her own head, leaning on the staff for support.

  “We apologize,” she said softly. “We did not intend to throw your existence into upheaval. That was not our intention.”

  They both stood together.

  “The monitor lizards are our main source of food. When so many were being killed in so short a period, it concerned the clan. They sent me to investigate. Unfortunately, I… acted rashly. That is my fault, not yours.”

  “We have all of the spitter sacs we require,” Megyn replied. “We will not be killing any more of those creatures, we promise you.”

  The Troglodyte nodded. “Thank you. That will bring peace of mind to my clan. And I personally owe you a debt.”

  Megyn’s eyes drifted to the lizard’s bloodied arm and leg and she flushed.

  “Well, I did put a couple of arrows in you first,” she said quietly.

  The lizard man’s mouth shifted in an odd direction, one that might have resembled a smile at one point in history, though Megyn couldn’t quite call it that.

  “All is forgiven,” he said. “We heal quickly. Me and the clan both extend you our thanks and our service.”

  Congratulations! You have completed the - Nature’s Balance

  You have upset the equilibrium of the Greenmurk Swamp. A significant population of the spitters are dead, leaving the Troglodyte little choice but to feed on something… else.

  Reward:

  250 XP

  Bonus Rewards:

  You have earned the favor of the Troglodyte Clan.

  Relationship with the Troglodyte Clan increased to: Friendly

  250 XP

  Charisma: +1

  “Nicely done, Ella!” Megyn shouted, high-fiving the other girl. “You just scored us a bonus quest reward!”

  Solomon extended his hand to the Troglodyte, who looked at it strangely for a moment, then seemed to understand, extending his own clawed palm. They clasped them together and shook.

  “And look at that,” Ella smiled widely. “I’m officially a level five Druid!”

  “Oh, so you’ve got your class all picked out, too, huh?” Solomon asked, nodding.

  “Damn right,” Ella replied, looking at him. “But hey, don’t worry. You’ve got at least another 165 XP of wiggle room before you have to make that decision.

  Solomon chewed his lip. Ever since dying and respawning, he’d been fighting and battling and struggling to claw his way back to where he was, and now he was on the verge of getting to level five, finally, and he just wanted to push the whole thing off. How was he supposed to make this decision on the fly, in the middle of the Greenmurk Swamp?

  Pushing the thought from his mind, he turned back toward the Troglodyte.

  “Solomon,” Sol said with a smile, touching his own chest.

  “Ella,” repeated Ella and Megyn completed her own introduction.

  “Threng,” the Troglodyte said, gesturing to himself with his three-fingered hand.

  “Good to meet you, Threng,” Ella said, bowing slightly.

  “And you,” Threng replied. Behind him, the soft squeal of another small group of monitor lizards echoed and he turned to look at them, then back toward the party. “Thank you again for saving me. Let the gods light your way.”

  With that said, he bowed slightly and turned, making his way back into the darkened swamp. With nothing else to say, and one last check to ensure they had all twenty-five neck sacs, the three of them pulled back and walked from the swamp, preparing to make their way back to Thorathon Village.

  Chapter 03 - Return to the Village

  * * *

  Dusk was quickly approaching when the three party members returned to the western edge of Thorathon. Megyn was riding Tyson’s back, the large dire wolf, managing her relatively light weight without issue. One medium sized horse carried both Solomon and Ella, one of the large number of herd animals the Amazons had cultivated since arriving here with the destruction of their tropical island home. It had made traveling to the Greenmurk Swamps a single day’s journey instead of multiple days, a fact that Solomon was especially happy for as they made their return. Camping out in the woods had never been his favorite part of living in this game, and tonight was no exception.

  Although the sun wasn’t fully set, there was a fire going in the common area fire pit, a large crackling flame, illuminating the majority of the central part of Thorathon, and in the flickering light of the fire, Solomon could see just how busy the village had become. Ridding Gallowind Wood of the evil energies of the Sharak-Ku warlock and his Pit Fiend patron had freed up some of the larger transportation routes, and once Queen Soracia put the word out that they’d be building an army to strike back at those who sought to corrupt the forest, she was surprised at the support she received. Guiding the horse down the gentle slope from the trees into the village, Solomon could already see Woody standing before a group of his fellow Harefolk, practicing some sword play, dressed in their unique azure metal armor, with short swords and round, Amazon shields. The other Lapines had
been here for just a few days, coming when Woody called them, and he was already working hard to get them ready. Typically a race of peaceful farmers, Woody had committed himself to training them to be a warrior as he was.

  Some other men and women in strange patterned armor and cloth clothing meandered about as well, people who Solomon didn’t immediately recognize, but he saw Amazons speaking with them, seemingly happily, showing them some rudimentary skills and combat techniques, and he suspected all was well. Voices, shouts, the clanging of metal on metal, all noises became evident as they drew deeper into the village, and the once quaint woodland hideaway was suddenly almost a bustling metropolis of activity.

  “Solomon, so good to see you again,” a gentle female voice uttered, and he turned while guiding his horse, looking down at Wiscilla as she strode over the grass, approaching him.

  He tugged the reins and halted the horse, swinging his leg down from its thick body, and landing with a soft thump on the ground before her.

  “Wiscilla,” he said, bowing low. “We are fortunate you’ve come. Are you helping Soracia plan her battle?”

  “As much as I can,” Wiscilla replied. “I must maintain a sense of balance to this part of the world, and as such, I cannot directly influence events like this. However, to what degree I can assist, I plan to. I certainly helped guide the Harefolk here, the ones who are working with Woodland.”

  “I’m sure I speak for Soracia when I say that we are indebted for whatever assistance you can provide.”

  “Don’t make such an assumption, young one,” Wiscilla replied. “I don’t believe Soracia shares your kind thoughts. I believe she’d prefer that I be a little more aggressive with the Sharak-Ku.”

  Solomon shrugged as Ella leaped down from the horse as well.

  “Wiscilla, good to see you,” she said, smiling. Her and Megyn hadn’t had quite as much face time with the Dryad queen of Gallowind, but Solomon had told them all about her.

  The wooden structure of Wiscilla’s makeshift face creaked as she smiled and nodded, but she didn’t say any more, instead turning and walking to where the Lapine were training, lifting a hand to wave to Woody, who returned the gesture.

  “About time!” a gruff voice barked and Esmelda came out from a small crowd gathered between the fire and the meeting hall. Her broad shoulders swayed as she walked, the battle axe bobbing slightly against her back. She never went far without the weapon, especially now, on the cusp of all out war with the Sharak-Ku.

  “Did you get them?” she asked, and Ella nodded, gesturing toward her cloak. “Good, good!” Esmelda replied. “Well done. Ella, go see Locratia and Aldena, they’re over by the fires. Aldena is leading the archers now, and Locratia can help make sure the sacs get where they need to go undamaged.”

  Ella nodded and pushed past her, walking toward the small group of Amazons, her cloak swaying gently behind her. In this low light, the dull gray/blue shine of her skin seemed almost reflective and Sol smiled as he watched her go.

  “So you made it without scaring up the Troglodytes then?” Esmelda asked, joining Solomon as they walked deeper into the village. Megyn jumped from Tyson’s back and scratched him behind the ears, then walked with him off in the same direction as Ella had gone. While Ella would be talking to Locratia, Megyn could do some more coordinating with Aldena. As they walked, many eyes followed the movements of the large white wolf, several of them mistrustful eyes, but still, everyone maintained their cool. After several weeks of living with the creature in the village, most of the Amazons had grown to tolerate his existence, if not actually enjoy it.

  “Well, actually,” Sol replied, “we did run into one.”

  Esmelda drew back. “And you all made it out alive? Impressive.”

  Solomon shrugged. “Actually, we made friends with it. With his whole clan.”

  Esmelda stopped walking, glaring in disbelief at the back of his head as he continued on. Sensing her dropping back, he turned and looked at her.

  “What?”

  “You do know those things are… evil right?”

  Solomon shrugged. “He spent enough time trying to kill us, but then he fell in some mud, almost got pulled under. Ella, bless her heart, used her staff to help him out. He was thankful.”

  Esmelda chuckled and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “Everything still on track here?” Solomon asked, looking around at the hustle and bustle of the small village.

  “So far,” Esmelda replied. She gestured back to the small group of mysterious people Solomon had been wondering about earlier. “Some mercenaries have shown up, believe it or not. Sellswords.”

  “Do we… trust them?”

  “Not much choice. We need all the extra hands, and swords, we can get. Soracia sent word to several locations, including Elderand, and I think that’s where they came from.”

  “I keep on hearing about this Elderand,” Solomon replied. “Where is it?”

  “Quite a ways north of here, up the Forked Tongue River. Largest city in this part of Shyft, the capital city, in fact. If what these sellswords say is true, population has started to really explode up there.”

  “How so?” Sol asked.

  Esmelda shrugged. “Many travelers. Visitors from other places, like you.”

  Solomon’s eyes widened. “Like me? And Megyn? And Ella?”

  Esmelda nodded. “That’s what they say. These sellswords aren’t like that, I don’t think, but there’s been an influx of them lately. Soracia wants to send two more birds, see if we can get even more mercenaries to come help. I’m not totally sold on the idea, but she’s the boss.”

  Sol nodded, his mind wandering. Had APEX finally opened the game up beyond its initial beta testing? Or were these people all more testers? Or, even worse, did APEX know what they’d done and were they sending people into the game to try and get them out? That was a frightening thought that Solomon didn’t want to dwell on too long.

  “So, you up for some axe work tonight, boy?” Esmelda asked, pulling her long, double-bladed axe from the sheath on her back. She clasped two hands around it and moved it in a vaguely threatening manner. Solomon laughed, but held up a hand.

  “Not tonight,” he replied. “I’ve got a date with the Journal of Kremjak tonight.”

  Esmelda shook her head. “You’ve been spending more time with that book than with your training,” she said firmly. “If we end up in battle with the Sharak-Ku, what is that book going to do to save you?”

  “I’m learning a lot,” Solomon replied, somewhat hurt by her virulent response. But he couldn’t deny what she was saying. He had been spending a lot of time with the tome as of late, digging into the book, peeling back the layers, and he felt like he was getting something out of it.

  Something. But not much, at least not yet.

  “You learning enough to help us win this war, boy?” she demanded, shaking her axe softly.

  “Maybe not yet,” Solomon admitted. “But I think I’m getting there.”

  Esmelda sighed and rolled her eyes hard enough to look behind her. “You know where to find me when you come to your senses. Until then, go bury your nose in that stupid book. Let me know when it does something for you.”

  Solomon smiled softly and nodded, picking up his pace as he made his way toward the small cottage where he’d been staying since being allowed to live in Thorathon Village. As the small house grew closer, he was already starting to forget about Esmelda and starting to think about that black, leatherbound book, and he couldn’t help but start to walk faster.

  Chapter 04 - The Journal

  * * *

  Letting the narrow, wooden door settle shut behind him, Solomon slipped out of his boots, and unclasped his cloak at his throat, hanging it up on a squat chair just inside the door to his small private residence. He considered himself lucky that he even got a remotely private place at all, so many others were sharing common rooms in the barracks, or even just sleeping in tents out in the grass. Sure, his cottage w
as small, a single room home with no interior plumbing, just a wash basin that he had to fill from water outside. But he had a cot of cut wood, and more importantly, a hay-stuffed mattress, under which he had stored the Journal of Kremjak.

  Since finding the book in the Tomb of the Stone King, not a single day had gone by that he hadn’t read at least a portion of the text within. Written in the common tongue, he understood most of what he read, until it came to the explanation of Kremjak himself, and what abilities he had. Many of these passages were written in a strange foreign language that he had been unable to translate completely, though he had spent a fair number of hours trying some typical symbol and letter replacements and was starting to put some short sentences together. He was hopeful that he might have the whole thing figured out within a month or two, but as Esmelda so keenly pointed out, none of that was going to help them in their war against the Sharak-Ku.

  Unless it did.

  Pulling the book from its spot under the mattress, he sat down and held it in two hands, looking at it carefully. Not for the first time, he realized that though he’d been calling it the Journal of Kremjak, he was only assuming Kremjak was the name. In truth, the name itself was crafted by symbols which only sort of resembled the more traditional common letters that Solomon was familiar with. For all he knew it could be the Journal of Dave Smith.

  But it wasn’t. Somehow he knew that. Even if he couldn’t quite decipher all of the language inside, he could almost picture the words in his head, and the author of this book was indeed ‘Kremjak’ of that he was certain. Who Kremjak was, however, was a completely different thing.