The Elder Lands - Chapter 38: The Essence of Steel

In the following days, Lucan would come to contemplate things he’d once thought simple but were in truth intricate. A piece of armor, for instance.

Beginning from a simple man picking at the earth for a scrap of raw iron mixed with the refuse of the world, it would move on to the hands of a man who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, then perhaps end up on a cart pulled by an eternally weary mule. Then there would be another man who smelts it, and another who shapes it. Then another and another and another. Until it reaches the hands of a man with charred hands, a smith, assisted by a young apprentice, perhaps a son; a portion of his tools birthed from the hands of a masterful woodworker. Then…that modest portion of iron would coalesce into a perfectly fitted piece of armor for one man. Him.

It was that thin layer of steel, crafted to the epitome of its potential, that stopped claws sharpened to a splitting edge from tearing Lucan’s guts out.

After the Archsalawa emerged from the once-whole wall and embraced him, it had attempted to retreat to where it had come from, only partially succeeding before stumbling and fumbling with him then they both fell on top of one another. The beast wrestled and grappled with him, its razor-sharp claws screeching against his steel plate and gouging out an alarming portion of the armor’s thickness.

Lucan wrestled back, trying to break free from its hold and failing, even though he was the one on top. Leveraged within its arms, for the first time he felt how truly strong a beast could be. He wasn’t helpless, but he wouldn’t overpower it any time soon. As their struggle came to a momentary lull, Lucan happened to raise his eyes far enough to notice the tunnel the Archsal’awa had dug through the walls of the Labyrinth, but he also noticed something else. It hadn’t come alone. Two pairs of eyes reflected the light that came from the passage behind him, standing a few short yards away from where he and his nemesis lay, perhaps as stunned as his own companions with what had transpired.

Realizing how deep of a mire he’d landed in, Lucan only got through half of his curse before something–no–someone barrelled into him and the beast. Before Lucan could regain his bearings, another weight hit them all.

A mixture of roars, yells, and rings of metal assaulted his ears before he could make sense of his surroundings. Once he did, he found that he was free of the Archsal’awa and that Heath had taken his place in the wrestling contest with the beast, trying and failing to leverage his Greatsword into a useful weapon in the tight confines of the tunnel. The beast’s claws were tearing rings aplenty out of his mail and gouging paths through his boiled leather.

Lucan grit his teeth and pulled his dagger free of its sheath, hastily crawling to the wrestling pair. He reached them as the Archsal’awa swung wildly, tearing Heath’s helmet off his shoulders and cutting a long gash across his cheek. Lucan grabbed the beast by the black fur on its hyena-like head, pulling it down and providing an opening for his dagger to take it in the neck. A single thrust didn’t do it, as the beast continued thrashing, only prevented from tearing Lucan’s own face off by Heath who still refused to let go of it. So Lucan generously and repeatedly reacquainted its neck with the sharp end of his dagger. It stopped struggling soon after.

Panting with exertion, both he and Heath struggled up, eying Cordell’s back as the man-at-arms fended off the beast’s comrades with his spear. Lucan took in their surroundings, trying to come up with…something. The tunnel’s confines were too tight for them to bring their advantages to bear.

He pulled back Heath, who was advancing to assist Cordell. “Fall back, it’s too narrow in here,” he told him. Then he yelled for Cordell to hear, “Lead them out into the open!”

He got a barely perceptible nod from the man-at-arms who began retreating as Lucan and Heath stepped out of the freshly-dug tunnel, pushing an anxious Ryder and eager Thorley out of their way.

“Prepare yourselves,” Lucan said. “There are two of them.”

His men, Thorley, and Lilian braced themselves, the latter muttering a spell under her breath.

It was only moments before Cordell stepped out of the tunnel, his back to them. His shield was up and his spear would suddenly jab out from time to time, forcing the beasts back.

The two Archsal’awas soon came upon the precipice of their tunnel, eyeing the celebration awaiting them. Then they stopped, no doubt wary of being outnumbered.

After they eyed them for a moment, they managed a cautious but smooth retreat back into their tunnel, disappearing into the darkness before Lucan could stitch together a thought.

Thorley grunted in frustration, but Lucan found himself releasing a sigh of relief. He glanced at Heath whose face presented a bleak painting, blood soaking a whole half of it.

“Fall back,” Lucan commanded. “We must tend to our wounds, quickly.”

Complying, his party retreated in the direction they’d come from until they found an appropriate spot to settle down for a time.

During their brief walk, Lucan had calmed down enough to take note of injuries he hadn’t noticed on his person before. On his arms, where his armor thinned between gauntlet and pauldron, the Archsal’awa had ripped through and given him many shallow cuts. The burning pain and the blood soaking his clothes were bringing him more discomfort than agony. The same couldn’t be said for Heath, however. As they settled down, Lucan commanded Clifton and Ryder to stand guard as they checked on the wounded man-at-arms. Besides the gash on his face, it appeared he’d sustained other injuries in separate places around his body, arms, ribs, back. They weren’t too deep, but with all of them together, Heath might as well have been donating his lifeblood to the earth they stood on.

Lucan helped Lilian cut the bandages while Thorley’s attention was split between aiding them and looking out for the return of the beasts he was so eager to fight.

Heath ended up with a cloth tied around his head and pressing against the gash to stop the bleeding, along with separate bandaging around his body to address his other wounds. Lucan couldn’t help but be thankful to the man. Apparently, when the beast had absconded with him, Heath and Cordell had charged after them thoughtlessly, and perhaps recklessly, even as everyone else froze or attempted to make sense of what they were seeing.

Being nearer, Heath had managed to go in first, charging into Lucan’s scuffle. Following him had been Cordell who had noticed that the Archsal’awa had brought ‘friends’ as Lucan himself had; he’d then resolved to keep said friends away from them.

Lucan wanted to pat Heath’s shoulder and thank him, but the big man was barely awake, showing signs of sleepiness that didn’t appear voluntary. He needed rest, good food, and possibly a medicant or a surgeon.

“Handle your Blessings then we will return to the surface,” Lucan instructed.

Immediately, a noise of protest came from Thorley. “We are not yet done! The princess told us that you would make certain we reach an appropriate threshold.”

“We’ve got wounded,” Lucan said, giving him a sharp look. “We’re leaving.”

“We’re already this far down. We could track those beasts down, find their nest if they have one. A lot of Vital Essense to be gained from that.”

“No.”

“But the princess–”

“I have made my decision,” Lucan said. “You can stay here alone if you want.” He glanced at Lilian who didn’t seem to share her companion’s notion of opportunity. “Heath needs his wounds properly tended.”

The object of his words groaned and mouthed, “I’m…well.” Then paused. “I will be well.”

“Yes, you will,” Lucan said, peeling the armor off his arms to attend to his own wounds. Once they were bare, Lilian gasped and drew closer to help him. Lucan knew that his wounds looked worse than they were with how soaked in blood everything was.

She helped him clean his arms and wounds, dressing them for him as he couldn’t leverage both his hands to do it.

Her hands were soft on his skin, and up close, he could see a certain quality to their dainty appearance as though they were neatly carved out of marble and polished to a point at her smooth nails, all with a reddish tint to her flesh that gave them proof life. Her breath tickled his skin from time to time as she busied herself with tying the bandages in place.

While her closeness wasn’t the first unintended intimacy he’d enjoyed in his life, having befriended the butcher’s girl back home in his younger years, he still found it a pleasant experience. Lilian softly held and twisted his arms after she finished, observing them for any wounds she might have missed.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“Not enough to be of consequence.”

“I’m glad.” She gave him a tender smile which he answered with one of his own.

As they all took a breath, resting before even checking their Blessings, he asked her, “You said your father was a merchant?”

“Yes. He was part of the guild before…” her voice turned into a light whisper, “Before the King disbanded it.” Then her voice returned to normal as she continued proudly, “he has two caravans that travel East and West.”

“Does either go south?”

Lilian frowned thoughtfully. “I believe that he sometimes sends them to Arpague? I’m not certain.”

“What about a little farther south?” Lucan said. “There’s a route that eventually leads to the Union passing near our lands.”

“I don’t know,” she said apologetically. “Only my father would be able to tell you.” She gazed at him for a moment, perhaps reading the eagerness on his face. “I’m certain he would be happy to speak to you.”

“It would be much appreciated.” Lucan gave her a smile.

She gave him an eager nod before they separated to look through their Blessings.

Even with their condition now, Lucan couldn’t keep his eagerness down for long. He summoned his Blessing.

You have slain a lv9 Ashkiev and absorbed its Vital Essence.

You have slain a lv8 Ashkiev and absorbed part of its Vital Essence.

You have slain a lv10 Ashkiev and absorbed part of its Vital Essence.

You have slain a lv8 Ashkiev and absorbed part of its Vital Essence.

You have slain a lv11 Archsal’awa and absorbed part of its Vital Essence.

You have leveled up.

You have leveled up.

Swordsmanship has leveled up.

Race: Human

Level: 7

Vital Orbs:16

Mind and Body

Physique: Iron I 0/15

Spirit: Basic 0/1

Skills (0) 0/100

(Passive) Swordsmanship lv22: Journeyman

(Hybrid) 7-Point Star Dance lv4: Novice (0/1)

(Active) Wraith Strike lv4: Novice (0/1)

He looked upon his Blessing contentedly. With this many Vital Orbs, he could empower his Physique once more, which he hesitated to do. With sixteen Orbs, he could push his Skills very high, high enough to sustain him in a long engagement. Still, putting fifteen into his Physique would push him along the path towards Steel.

After an adequate amount of thought, he decided that he would take the middle path. His next level, which would hopefully not be too far away, would give him another eight Orbs, and so he would need to preserve seven out of the current sixteen to be able to push his Physique along when the time comes. The rest, he vested into his Skills, five Orbs into the Star and four into Wraith Strike.

Race: Human

Level: 7

Vital Orbs:7

Mind and Body

Physique: Iron I 0/15

Spirit: Basic 0/1

Skills (0) 0/100

(Passive) Swordsmanship lv22: Journeyman

(Hybrid) 7-Point Star Dance lv9: Novice (0/1)

(Active) Wraith Strike lv8: Novice (0/1)

Done with that, he let Cordell replace Ryder on watch so the latter could handle his Blessing too.

He glanced at Heath who seemed to be struggling to focus on his Blessing with half-clouded eyes.

They would have to move soon.