The Allie

Good enough. Deciding I'm in a close enough area to the hunters' frequent sighting reports, I stop to set the bait. Casting a wary eye around the dark woods, I unsling my pack. Pulling out the dirty golem, I lay its inanimate form on the ground, examining it by moonlight. The golem, shaped to look like a toddler-aged boy, disgusts me. Its bland gray limbs are stuffed into ratty children's clothes. It's been rubbed down in grime and sweat and shit so it smells as if a child had been left alone for days out here.

Crouching over it, I attempted to recall the order of steps Sivil ran me through to activate its core. I remove the master console and follow his instructions. After a couple minutes, I finally sparked the connection with the console with my own mana. Nothing externally changes, but by touching it I immediately feel it come alive with mana.

The tracker has already been bonded, but I test it out from different angles to make sure it works and that the master console's connection isn't interfering with the tracker. Everything appears to be working.

Closing my eyes, I infuse the master console with the impression command to "run around." This valley is rather dry, the trees are sparse, and the underbrush is thin, so I doubt it will get stuck somewhere. Clumsily, appearing somewhat like a child and hopefully indistinguishable from a real one to a monster, the doll begins to stumble about. This golem is extremely unresponsive as it carries out my commands, not at all like a normal boy, who might laugh or cry out when he runs and stumbles. Another golem might have sensory enhancements or a sound box, but this one only has simple motor skills. Sivil didn't have time to make anything more advanced, but this should do.

To add a last touch, I pour a canteen of urine on the golem and around the area. Satisfied with my work, I ditch the master console in a tree close enough in proximity to the golem for it to carry out its function; the golem shouldn't wander far from the device either if what I recall is correct. Starting with that tree, I navigate back to the Allie, marking my journey with a mana-luminescent dye. The task slows my progress painfully, but it is necessary to be able to return to the same spot.

When I find the road I departed from, I put my dye and brush away and run back down the road. The reason I came alone to perform this task becoming apparent. My mana-infused body pumps my legs at an unnatural speed and strength down the smooth, hardpacked road; others simply wouldn't be able to keep up, not to mention be able to see clearly. Going at about the speed of another man's sprint, I jog down the road at a casual pace I could keep for most of the night if need be. And while the task isn't strictly time-sensitive, the young man I was hired by would like to get his new operation up and running with some haste.

Eventually, spotting the lights of Ellis Allie down below, I slow my pace. When I get to a better vantage point, I stop briefly to drink in the sight. The town rests near the base of the mountain in a wide, flat valley. Its dim twinkling lights are green, purple, and white, reminding me of a town all decorated for Christmas back on earth. This whole valley would be cover in snow too if it rained often enough.

I approach the outermost walls, emerging from the dark road. The guards are unnerved, but they recognize me from a couple hours ago and let me in with simple nods.

Many of the buildings in Ellis Allie incorporate stone, quarried from the mountains, in their floors, walls, supports, and art. The style reminds me somewhat of Persian architecture, with its frequent double stories with flat or domed roofs, the sandstone-like appearance of the stone, and the many open burlap canopies with street shops or vendors. All of these are closed at the moment, of course, and have been emptied of their wares..

The city's streets, newly paved by earth Elementalists, are covered in dust and animal droppings; the smell reminds me of a stable. There are dozens of people milling the streets, most up to no good. I ignore them and head straight for my destination.

After the discovery of the copious amounts of mana-enriched salt due to an open dungeon in the mountains a year ago, the Allie totally transformed. With the boom of workers and the opportunity for riches, this place is a beehive of industry and development. The economy has transformed this once small, desolate town into a hive of business and trade that rivals any contemporary city. Part of the benefit of so much wealth flowing through this commercial hotspot is that it generates a wide variety of goods. The spark salts trade turns into aged liquor from the outlands, Chesney soap from the northern tribes, and spices from the Imperial capital. Name an exotic good, and Ellis Allie now enjoys its commerce.

After making my way winding through town, I again come to a pair of guards inside an iron gate. They notice me coming from the table they sit at. I hear them murmur to each other before one of them approaches the gate while the other watches intently from his seat. These boys are less professionally fitted, but they are strapped up with blades and wear padded jackets with their house's colors.

I have to show him my mark before he lets me through. "Right on schedule," he says as he opens the gate.

"It's too cold to stay out for long," I quip without stopping.

"Not for you it ain't," he scoffs.

I laugh lightly. "The Sister's blessings on you both tonight." I say over my shoulder.

Down the now cobbled road, I walk past various residences and shops until I stand before the heavy set of hand carved doors to the Anatum manor. I kick the knocker at the bottom and wait. Before long, one of the doors cracks open, and I'm welcomed by a familiar set of crinkled gray eyes. Nims is one of Sivils most honored maid servants.

"He's waiting for you up on the roof."

"Ah, thanks, Nims."

The halls of this place are never dark. Even at night, they are illuminated by dim purple glowstones lining the base of the walls. I admire the elegant stone and wood architecture, with sloping ceilings and polished floors that look granite-like. The whole bottom floor is spacious, with wide, empty doorways. Up the wide, curving staircase, the second floor is more effectively utilized, at least on this wing. These halls are the guest bedrooms where all the men, including me, are staying. I make my way up to the roof, coming out under a canopy that covers most of the roof. On the roof is a garden of plant beds growing a few different spices and herbs that give off a sweet aroma. I spot Sivil on a cushioned wooden bench on the part of the roof that's under the open sky, head reclined up.

His eyes are open, and he gazes into the starry abyss above. He either doesn't notice me or chooses not to look as I approach. "Not tired?"

Without looking at me, he says, "How did it go?"

Despite there being no wind, it must be chilly tonight. Sivil wears only some bland, white, loose fitting garments and slippers. "Everything went fine. I found the area between the creek beds the hunters described."

"Good, and the bait?" He finally turns to face me. About twenty-five, he's not a particularly handsome man, with a fragile face, short blonde hair, and a scruffy attempt at a beard, but he gets by with the women, I'm sure.

"Creepy as Archoa's children, but he's stumblin' about in the woods. I just pray a woodsman doesn't find the thing before the dragon does, or we'll have a terrified local spreading rumors of demon spawn through the town."

He scoffs. "Might do some good, keeping noses out of places we don't want them."

"Could just as well bring the more troublesome type of folk."

"You're right," he cedes, clearly never meaning his remark about the rumors. "It's best we just keep the hunters paid off, nice, and quiet. No attention is best."

I don't like his inclusion of "we." I'm being too familiar still. An awkward lull falls over our conversation. "With any luck, me and the men can head out tomorrow or the day after. If we're unlucky... maybe a span."

"Do you think the poison will finish it off?"

"In my experience, my lord, poison rarely does the trick. Even with the amount of nilis powder stuffed in there, a beast as ferocious as a C-class dragon won't be undone."

"If they just had a damn normal digestion, this place would be a lot safer."

"The whole dome would be a lot safer, and probably the rest of the world too."

He examines me. "You think there's more out there? Outside the dome?"

"I've been out there. A world just as big, if not bigger, than this one lies just on the other side. One day I'll return too."

He sits upright, surprised. "I've heard there are other races out there too, not just beasts that can communicate, but actual intelligent people."

"I don't know about them not being beasts. Seemed like damn savages to me. Aye, they walk upright though. And they can talk like us and make cities like us, but no one I've ever known has been able to hold a conversation with them. They attack on sight and hunt us down until we're either dead or back where we belong. They're strong too, not like us, where most are mundane and others are mages. Far as I could tell, all of them were mages. They call them the elves."

"What were they like?"

"I've only been outside once, for a few span. We had to be careful to navigate any powerful monsters' territories, but eventually we ran into some of them. Chased us all the way back to the dome in a few days." My eyes linger meaningfully in the sky. "Some of us even got split from the others. Never saw a soul from that group again."

He nods in what he probably thinks is a genuine attempt at sympathy. "You never brought one back, did you? What I would give for a specimen!"

He means an elf corpse. "No."

"Shame." We fall into silence for a bit. "Sit if you'd like." He gestures at a bench across from him. I remain standing. "Very well. I wanted to get your thoughts on some things, Viktor."

We talk about Sivil's various dealings and businesses in the community, and eventually we move on to the pitfalls he has with women. He wishes for a sort of partnership with me, hoping I can help guide him because he is all alone and afraid of failing. He sees the way I interact with the other hired adventurers, and he shares my disdain for them. And because I don't seek his approval, he seeks mine. I pity the lad; he's not an all-bad sort. He's simply here on his father's behest, to build his family's fortune and make his own mark on the world. But I won't tie myself to him. I know he would have my throat slit in an alley if he ever felt truly threatened by me. Our relationship will remain strictly professionally motivated, and I'll be cautiously brief. I can all too easily imagine getting entangled and accidentally compromising myself with something I didn't want to know about or be involved in. He'll try to keep me, but after this job I won't ever have to see this man again.

Eventually he notices my stiff and withdrawn demeanor, and he relents. "Let's call it a night, shall we? Go knock on Marymons' door. Give him the tracker bond and get to bed, you'll need it. I'll have you woken if we get a lead."

I nod, "Right," and as I'm leaving, he stops me.

"Viktor, good work tonight." So obvious.

"Your praise does me good, but I pray you don't speak too soon."

"I don't," he says.

As I walk to Marymons' room, I wonder what it would take for to regret the cost of his actions. Would a few mundane deaths be enough? How little does he value other people's lives? I doubt Sivil would stop at anything to prove his worth to his family. There are few things scarier than a man with power and conviction.

After a tired looking Marymons answers the door to accept the tracker, I go to my room and lie down on my bed with a sigh. Marymons is the man in charge of the hunting party. He's a rather powerful man in his own right. Coming from noble heritage, as most Mages do, Marymons has already led a successful career adventuring as a Spiritualist, and he now seeks a more stable enterprise. I assume his clean career, noble background, and compatible ambition are why Sivil likes him so much. That and he can be damn charismatic. His dangerous eyes always belied his charming smile to me, though.

Most of the other men have been with Sivil for cycles, carrying out whatever dirty work that needs doing. Unlike them, Marymons rose quickly to be a trusted employee of Sivil, the two of them sharing a certain kinship. If the hunt goes well, he'll even likely be instated as a foreman and head of security at Sivil's new mine.

Eventually, my thoughts grow confusing and hazy while I drift asleep.

~ ~ ~

Marymons confirms that the tracker detects movement of the target later that day. We have to move quickly before the dragon's stomach erodes the protection around the runic device. So the next night, I return to the area where I left the golem child. Sure enough the there small signs of a dragon's presence, and the golem is missing. Concluding that I have enough information, I retrieve the master console and report back to Sivil and Marymons. They decide to go ahead with the hunt the next day.

Sivil has baths prepared for each of the men. The water is mixed with a cleansing tonic that will prevent the body from producing any scents. An expensive but fairly common precaution for adventurers. Of course I've had that problem permanently dealt with years ago, so I need no bath.

That evening we gather in the mess hall and feast in honor of the hunt to come. Sivil is nowhere to be found by now, off on business no doubt. There are eleven of us adventurers in total, so it wasn't a huge feast, but the men have fun. And when the half finished plates of the last course lay cold on the table, Marymons calls the attention of the entire room. We go over the plan one final time, then we head out front to gear up.

Anticipation hangs in the air. Everyone dons flexible and light mana beast hide for armor and a select five of us carry spears while the rest carry huge, hand-drawn, crossbows. Among our other gear, we pack light, not bringing many rations.

On the way out of town, the sun having long since set, we pass by the main road leading east out of town up to the mountains. There is a group of about fifty miners returning from whatever span or cycle long shift they were scheduled for. At the front are two empty zouqi-drawn wagons. The salt is rarely ever carted down through the main roads; usually, the mining companies each have their own secret route out of the mountains down to the town.

"Cladestin's men, you reckon?" One of the men asks, referring to a group of men about fifty strong, bundled up in fur coats with picks, ropes, and sacks strewn about them.

"Aye, likely the Clad's. Look up there at the front." Another man points to the front of a group. "That's Lukis Cladestin, the second born." There are two men in the green and white colors of the Cladestin family who lead the bunch with two tarped wagons of other supplies. One rides a zouqi that leads the other zouqi pulling the wagons. The other man rides some breed of dire boar with wide razor tusks.

Whistling in appreciation, a third man, whom I recognize to be named Darros, asks, "Which one?"

"Muttonhead, the one on the grunter!" The second man says. "Come here so I can crack you, Darros. Who else around here has a beast like that?" I'm inclined to agree with the man. From what I've seen, Darros does tend to be a muttonhead.

"Well whos the man on the left then?" The first man chimes in again.

"Hells if I know. "Probably a cousin or some such." The second man says, his tone noticeable returning to a more relaxed volume as we pass out of sight of that street. These men are so easily caught up in the rivalries of the local powers.

Once we make our way out of town, the men quite down a bit. We head up into the wilderness of the Ellis Allies mountains. The twin moons hang in the sky, providing plenty of light to see by. Even if that weren't the case, that fact wouldn't make the slightest difference to any one of us as we slip swiftly forward into the night.

~ ~ ~

For the last hour, our pace has been slowed to a crawl as we suspect the dragon could be near. The sun has yet to dawn over the valley, but it won't be long. Dragons do not fly very often. It takes them a lot of energy to lift their body weight into the air, especially for what's likely a C-class dragon. They much prefer to glide down, if they fly at all. So usually, dragon dens are accessible by foot in case a dragon doesn't have the strength or desire to fly up to it. So when the tracker leads us to a massive stack of boulders that dead ends into the mountain side, we strongly suspect we've found it. It's a fine area to fight in. For a mundane, the jagged and uneven ground would be treacherous, but for us, it's a small hazard.

We group under a stone lip out of sight from the rock pile. "Uli, send Jewels to check things out." Uli is our Bestial Mage. Rare enough on their own, Uli underwent the latest modification procedures to be able to bond a mana beast. Most Bestial Mages have bonds that help enhance their combat capabilities; Ulis' bond is far more insidious than that, though.

After closing his eyes for a few seconds in silent concentration, a twenty pound hairy black spider scurries out from its hiding place past us to find the den. Most species from Earth do not exist in this world, such as horses or butterflies. But for whatever bloody reason, spiders were one of the few parallels I've found to carry over to this reality.

We're all in our own heads while waiting, preparing for the battle to come. One man trims his nails with a dagger, others pass out chesney seeds to take the edge off. Despite hiking all through the night, none of us needs to rest.

A few minutes later, Uli closes his eyes. "He found the dragon." We all glance nervously up at the pile.

"Is it asleep?" Marymons asks.

"Still dozing, sir." The dragon is, in fact, diurnal.

"How big is it?" another man asks.

"About the size of a wagon, I reckon."

"Good work, Uli. Let's get ready then."

After briefly discussing the plan, me and the four other spearmen sneak up to the base of the pile of boulders and set up our trap. The other men, Marymons included, stand at the back with crossbows, waiting for our signal.

We are left waiting for hours. It's too risky to try to attack it without waking it up, so we wait for it to come to us. Eventually, news comes through Uli that the dragon is awake. I exchange glances with Darros and Matran, the men on either side of me. Soon the dragon makes its appearance.

The monster blithely moves down the rock pile despite its squat build. Just like the reports said, its scales are blood red. Its massive pair of black leathery wings are folded up in the air on either side. Like a dog, it stops every now and then to lift its head up to smell the breeze with sucking sniffs.

I catch a daring glance at one of its cold reptilian eyes. Despite the fact that this dragon doesn't need to eat to survive, I get the impression that this thing is always looking for its next kill. Definitely a predator. I duck back down and press my back against the rock. Closing my eyes to listen, I attempt to slow my racing heart. Only one of us needs to get it.

The dragon paths away from me toward Matran's rock. He realizes this and positions himself to strike at the right moment. There are two types of people. Those who perform under pressure, and those who freeze. The difference is training and experience. Clarity and vison are powerful tools, and Matran does not hesitate.

As soon the dragon steps between me and Matran. He darts out behind the monster with a strange hooked weapon in one hand. It freezes for a moment, realizing something is wrong, before noticing Matran near its tail. It leaps away from the unknown assailant, but not before Matran, a skilled Spiritualist, can stab the beast with the hooked blade through its leathery wing and around one of its vulnerable bones. But the dragon's swift reaction rips the blade from Matran's hand. The hole would not big enough to stop the winged lizard from flying away.

Matran wastes no time racing back to get the spear he left at his rock. But now the dragon, having recovered from its surprise and now annoyed at being attacked by a single person, charges after Matran. I'm already moving, though. Gripping my spear, I manage to intercept the pair and surprise the dragon once again with my proximity to it. The monster jumps away, giving up on the pursuit of the nimble man. It squats, staring balefully at me. We slowly begin to circle each other, and while meeting its gaze, I whistle a few sharp notes . A deep rumbling emanates out of the dragon's throat. Frantically, I launch myself backward to the safety of a rock as a stream of fire spills out of the dragon's mouth, coating the rock and ground next to me with fire.

Bolts from the crossbowmen begin to slam into the dragon on my signal. Tipped with fell iron, some of the bolts skid off the stratified scales while others hit at the right angle and pierce it. Roaring in anger and shock, the dragon attempts to flee the situation after seeing so many unknown assailants. It leaps onto a boulder and up into the air. The unfortunate creature does not realize the true danger.

After only a few beats of its wings, one of them, the one with the blade hooked around it, snaps taut as it runs out of line. The reinforced blade is tied to an alchemically strengthened rope that's anchored to the rocky ground. With a savage snap, the frail bone is yanked back mid-stroke, and the monster plummets from the air, landing hard in a heap.

We all rush over to where it fell to get a better look, the men whooping and hollering. The dragon is broken and bleeding, but still very much alive. The crossbowmen continue to berate it with shots from their vantage point. Between all the roars, one of the crossbowmen doesn't hear the warning growl and gets caught in a stream of fire. He awkwardly rolls behind a rock before he starts screaming. Still, he got lucky, his armor saving him from most of the damage. He will likely live.

For a few minutes, the fight turns into a game of cat and mouse as the dragon tries to flee to shelter and the crossbowmen have to dodge and hide from any jets of fire. Then, when the dragon is out of fire, the five of us with spears close in for the kill in a semi circle. The dragon faces us, slowly backing up, eyes wide, mangled wing dragging beside it.

Soon it reaches the end of its line. The cornered creature rushes us in a final effort. It jumps at the man to my left, and, seizing the moment, I step forward and ram my spear deep into the dragon's throat. Like an idiot, I hold onto the shaft as the dragons' sudden flailing lifts me off my feet and sends me flying into the rocky ground. Thankfully, I protected my head, and I don't think I broke anything.

Dazed and out of breath, having stopped a ways from the fight, I pull myself up to a crouch. Not finding the will to rejoin the others, I watch the rest of the fight. My fatal score on the murderous dragon sent the other men yelling in fever. The dragon does not live for long.

~ ~ ~

Cormil, the field medic among us, treats the injured. Apparently, the dragon managed to cut the man to my left deeply on the arm with its razor-sharp claws either before or right after I speared it. He and a couple men who got burned were our only injuries. No fatalities. I myself am sore from my crash landing, but otherwise I came out unscathed. Undoubtedly a successful hunt. A couple men stay behind to dress the dragon while they wait for us to take the wounded back and send back a wagon and more men.

We return to town to claim our rewards. There will be no feast tonight; instead, the men will celebrate out in the town on their own, where they can be the heroes of a tavern room, regaling a crowd about the tale of how they slew a mighty dragon. And when the skeptics ask for proof, they will present a severed finger, a patch of scales, or another souvenir—everyone took something from the body—and they will buy everyone a round of beer with their winnings, and they'll be an instant celebrity for the rest of the night and maybe the cycle. Not to mention the ladies that will fill their bed. At least that's the plan Darros announced as we got close to the town. I'm excited about the future for a different reason, though.

I spend the day resting and preparing my supplies. That evening, a pleased Sivil presents us with our earnings in cold, hard silver talons. I put them with the rest.

~ ~ ~

"I'll be heading out tonight." I say to Sivil. I found him on the back patio of his manor, lounging and reading a book.

He's unsurprised. "Just tell me you won't make off with the Clads or Rektors."

"Not a chance. I'll never play for houses again."

He knows part of my history and smiles wearily. "Good. I heard you delivered a fatal blow. You deserve a handsome bonus." I don't know if he's trying to entice me to stay, but money won't keep me here.

"Whoever told you that must be confused, it was Darros that dealt the blow, he's the one who deserves it. I'm sure his family will appreciate it."

Disappointed but too proud to show it, Sivil assents and eventually gives me his blessing before I leave.

~ ~ ~

At the door, I find Nims to say my final farewell. "I don't like who I am in this place, with these people." I've always found Nims to be a wise and humble soul. She, more than anyone, has earned my respect. I might actually miss her company.

"You'll always be welcome back at my door, any time, day or night, even if you don't want the boss knowin' you're here. I'll just sneak ya in through the cellar." She gives me a wink.

I scoff. "You haven't been able to find the cellar in years." We share a final laugh.

She bows deeply. "It's always a pleasure, sir. May the Beholder's wisdom find you in whatever future lies ahead."

Before I came, I thought about gifting her something, but I didn't want to insult her. So instead, I give her my best bow, and walk away, knowing I'll never see her again.

~ ~ ~

As I crest a ridge, I look back on the twinkling town miles below. I won't miss the place. I've been itching for another, more daring kind of adventure for some time, and I've heard promising things about the dungeon full of salt miners. "Let's see if you live up to your reputation," I whisper to the mountain. Muscles aching in complaint, I resume my trek up the rocky trail, leaning into the bitter wind and pressing on into the dark.