Chapter 13 (Patreon)

Flint wanted to tear his hair out after half a day with Percy. It was mid-afternoon and dusk was a couple of hours away, and they had made decent progress. He appeared to know the ins and outs of building; however, he was one of the most annoying people Flint had ever met. Flint initially thought that the man’s constant interruptions were a reaction to Mr Mayor’s hostile attitude, but he soon discovered that it was an ingrained habit.

“Your fancy use of [Shape] is good, but what’s the point of [Bind]?” Percy asked while Flint was explaining his plan of making the ramparts broad and sloping. “It’s a waste of energy. Patch the holes and move onto fixing the fort. That’s the real prize. Once done, you can work on everything in between.”

“Focus on the matter at hand. Percy,” Flint said, clenching his jaw. He tapped the block in front of him with a hammer, trying to ease it into a tight gap. “A sylph scaled the wall without issue—”

“Well, they’re air-attuned fae.” Percy interrupted him once again. “You could make the wall twice as tall, and they’d still find a way over. The strongest of them can stand on air—”

“But the creature’s they bless with wind can’t! I saw them in action. The sylph blurred at times, moving in bursts of blinding speed. On the other hand, the bear was just faster. It was like the bear had a tailwind—”

“I’ve seen it. They solidify the air under their feet to turn them into steppingstones. No wall is going to stop them.”

“Percy, can you shut up!” The words slipped out of Flint before he could stop himself. He’d spent hours holding his tongue, and his frustration refused to stay in. He wanted nothing more than to smash Percy’s face in. “Can you let someone speak for once? By the Iron Legion, Percy, I can’t get a thought out without you interrupting me. Are you even listening, or are you stuck in your own monologue?”

Percy dropped the stone block he was holding. It fell twenty feet and bounced off the hard ground before coming to a rest. One of its corners chipped, and a stone fragment went skipping along the floor, but it was otherwise undamaged.

“Listen here, Flint,” Percy yelled, getting in his face. “I’ve been at this longer than you’ve been alive. You’ll listen to me if you know what’s good for you, Flint. Wasting time on the outer defences is pointless.” He pointed at the fort standing at the top of the pass. “The fort up there is the real prize. Once we get that functional, no fae will get through the pass.”

“That might be so, but it’s not what we’re doing! We need to ensure the outer defences are solid before moving that deep into the fort. It might be near-impenetrable, but it’s the final defence between the village and the enemy. If they breeze through everything without any challenges or losses, then they have a city worth of space to stage their siege!”

Flint inhaled and exhaled loudly, forcing his heartbeat to slow down. “You need to understand, Percy, this is my life quest. The Heartstone agrees with my hypothesis. We’ll fix it all up eventually, but the outer defences need to go up first. You might have been at this longer than me, but I fought the enemy two weeks ago. I built the defences and fought puck soldiers on the walls. Sometimes, it’s not about keeping them out but slowing them down. If we can thin out their numbers, that’s a huge advantage—”

Percy climbed down the rope and off the wall. He turned his back to Flint and started walking uphill. “I’m doing this for Miss Lya, not you. It’s a shame your parents—matrons didn’t teach you to listen to your elders.” Percy looked back at Flint, scrunched up his nose and spat on the ground. “I’m going to go work on the fort—not for your life quest but because that’s the real prize! When you come to your senses, come find me.”

For the first time in his life, Flint felt like bricking someone. He had never met anyone so stubborn and egotistical in his life. On second thought, Captain Ironheart was no different. There were others in the Iron Army’s hierarchy too. However, none of the builders had any expectations of them to start with. The Iron Army’s code of conduct forced them to be somewhat bearable too. Percy had demonstrated a decent level of competency, though. Flint had gotten his hopes up, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

On the bridge side, he had fixed what remained of the old wall. Percy had rarely used [Shape] like Flint nor unlocked [Bind] when the Heartstone offered the ability. So, he had focused on placing new blocks while Flint created them or adjusted the fit on others. Now, he had close to two hundred stone cuboids ready but no more energy to move them.

Flint was considering calling it a day when he heard a soft whine. Much to his surprise, Maya and Bjorn were outside the walls. The pair had either found a way to scale the walls or used a hole Percy had since patched. It was a good thing Flint had used the rubble used for the barricade to make most of the blocks. The gate into the fort was no longer blocked.

The hidden mechanism sat within a false section of the four-foot-wide wall. Percy claimed it required three grown men to turn the pulley’s crank, but [Builder’s Brawn] let him operate it alone. It took him a couple of minutes to get the old machines moving and much longer to make the gate budge. Flint cracked it open wide enough for the two dogs to pass through. Then he closed it again. It amazed him how seamlessly the entrance disappeared into the wall. He guessed the old builders had used [Bind] to make it all look like one piece, then used expert craftsmanship to disguise the gate. Flint didn’t have the confidence to replicate their work, so he decided to leave the exterior’s lower half untouched. It wouldn’t take before the elements made the entire structure look derelict once again.

The dogs entered the fort’s grounds carrying their catch in their mouth. Bjorn had caught a brown hare almost a third his size. Flint didn’t think the local wildlife could get that big. Meanwhile, Maya held two long-necked water birds. Flint hadn’t spotted any rivers during the journey and couldn’t begin to fathom where she found her prey. Maya looked at him with her ears back and tail wagging. He felt her pride through their empathic bond.

On the other hand, Bjorn still didn’t look him directly in the eye. Even though his tail didn’t wag, it didn’t hang between his tail either. It stood pointing towards the sky, showing off its fluffy magnificence. He sensed pride through the link too. The rage and fear in Bjorn were mostly gone. However, he still carried a degree of uncertainty.

When Maya dropped her kill, Bjorn watched hesitantly as Flint picked up the two birds. He gave them a once over before petting her. “Good job, girl,” Flint said. Goosebumps rose on Flint’s arms when Bjorn copied her. He chuckled and kneeled to scratch him behind the ears, but it was no surprise when the snowdog shied away. Flint knew it was too much to ask, but when Bjorn met his eyeline for a moment, he grinned. It was better than nothing.

After giving the kill a once over, he carried the corpses back to camp while the dogs followed him. He had wood left over from the night before. Flint started a fire and worked on feathering the birds. Even though he was exhausted, and Percy had driven him up the wall, he felt content. The life quest wasn’t a part of Flint’s dreams, but he, at last, had the peace he wanted. Sooner or later, more, Wyld would attack, but he didn’t have to spend his time around people constantly preparing or talking about war.

Flint used [Shape] to create a large stone pot and placed it over the fire. He used Bjorn’s water bowl to fill it with water from the stream, before tossing the root vegetables from Miss Lya’s garden. Some spices would’ve gone a long way, but all he had was a block of salt. He shaved some of it into the pot and once the water came to a boil, he tossed the bird meat in. Darkness fell before the food was ready. The steam rising from the pot carried the ingredient’s freshness. It was unlike anything the Building Division enjoyed. Despite their importance to the Iron Army, they always received the last lot of supplies after everyone else had their pick.

Just as Flint was about to take his first bite, a loud whine sounded from the two dogs. He knew it wasn’t from Maya. When he first got her, she’d jump at him while he tried to eat. The pup would try to steal food off his plate or paw at him. It took months of training before she learned to wait until it was her turn. As a rule, he’d serve Maya her meal after he was halfway done with hers. Then he’d add scraps from his plate for good behaviour.

It was likely the fae treated her animal companions differently. As Bjorn sat patiently, shifting his weight from pay to pay, Flint guessed he wasn’t always fae-touched. The snowdog’s eyes darted between him, the bowl of steaming stew, and the dead hare. Flint guessed that Bjorn must’ve been an ordinary dog once upon a time, perhaps a stray. He neither behaved nor moved like most of the beasts that accompanied the fae. The Wyld had turned him and used him as a weapon.

Flint realised that training Bjorn the same way he taught Maya wouldn’t be possible. He’d need to meet the snowdog halfway to build the bridge between them before setting rules. So, he took his knife and chopped the hare carcass in two before throwing a half to each of the dogs. Maya dug into the meal, but Bjorn watched him hesitantly.

“Go on,” Flint said. He didn’t just use a soothing tone but also pushed calming colours towards Bjorn. Flint had read and shared his feelings before, but it was the first time he had tried to influence anyone else’s. “It’s fine. I’m not going to hurt you, Bjorn. Eat your fill so you can recover your strength.”

The snowdog took a couple of minutes, his eyes darting between Flint and Maya before starting on his dinner. Unlike Maya, he took his time with the food. After tearing off a chunk, he’d chew, swallow, look around and then continue. The snowdog looked much more cautious during his meal than Maya?

Did he have to compete with the bear for food?

Bjorn was finally beginning to show his personality, and Flint couldn’t be happier. He wanted to pet the dog, stroke his fur, and assure him everything would be okay. Even though they hadn’t spent much time together, Flint was starting to develop a liking for the dog.

After dinner, when Flint entered his shelter, both of his canine companions followed him. Maya curled up by the bed roll but Bjorn stretched out by the opposite wall. As he settled in for the night, Flint hoped Adam had whatever ability blacksmiths used for their forever burning forges. It would prove invaluable for their firepits. A strength enhancement ability would make him a valuable worker too.

Percy—the one with the highest potential—turned out to be a dud. He hoped the other two would turn out better. Even though he felt content where he was, the daunting task ahead of him birthed a glimmer of doubt in his mind. The class wasn’t enough. If the Wyld’s forces approached the Slumbering Fort, he and two dogs weren’t enough to defeat them. Flint desperately needed more people and resources. He prayed to whoever was listening that more people from Lea’s Slumber would aid him.