Chapter 257 - Losing (Patreon)

Zeke trudged along behind the dwarves, his wrists bound together by metallic black shackles. A chain connected him to one of the dwarves – a particularly broad-shouldered stump of a fellow that looked like he’d been carved from granite. He was also one of the hairiest of the bunch, a trait which seemed to coincide with an incredibly angry demeanor. More than once over the last two days, he’d pelted Zeke with blows from the iron-bound cudgel he held at his waist. They didn’t really hurt that much, but that was largely because the surly dwarf hadn’t wanted to damage his property.

Because that’s what Zeke was. Property. Such had been made perfectly clear to Zeke when he’d been captured. He was expected to obey without question; if he didn’t his new owner would bring out the cudgel. And a single true beating had been enough to tell Zeke that he didn’t want that.

It’d happened shortly after his capture when he’d refused to follow the dwarves, and it had left his body battered and bruised. Moreover, that cudgel – or perhaps one of the dwarf’s skills – had assailed his soul as well, driving metaphysical spikes through his very essence. With his pain tolerance being what it was, Zeke had little trouble enduring it, but he did worry about what kind of effects such treatment would have. Could a soul be permanently injured? Could it be shattered entirely? Zeke’s experiences in the demon realm suggested that it was possible, but he had no desire to put it to the test.

Over the last couple of days, Zeke had been brutally introduced to his new surroundings, and he had learned – via eavesdropping on the group of dwarves – that he’d been dropped off in the middle of an enormous glacier. The dwarves’ home, which was called Min Ferelik, was beneath the still-distant mountains, and it housed an extensive mine where he would be put to work.

To Zeke, it seemed like a great opportunity to complete his quest. Where else would he find such a wide variety of metals? So, if he had to play the role of slave for a few days, then so be it.

It helped that he knew he could escape at any time he wanted. The suppression collar was high-quality work, but with his runecrafting experience as well as his path, he’d quickly discovered how to unravel it. That had been on that first night, when all but a few dwarves were asleep. If he’d truly wished to escape, that would have been the opportune time. However, Oberon’s advice had brought him up short.

There was something he needed to learn with these dwarves. He was certain of it. And he didn’t think it was something as simple as completing his skill quest. No – there was more to it. Oberon had hinted that it would be a path-changing opportunity on par with Zeke’s experience in the troll caves. Mining a little ore didn’t really qualify as that, which brought Zeke to the conclusion that there was something far more important he needed to do.

So, he’d chosen to play along and pretend that he was just like any other captured slave.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” growled one of the dwarves. This one was shorter, broader, and his beard was scraggly. However, he had the same coloring as all the rest of the dwarves, which meant that he looked a lot like the black-and-white television shows Zeke had watched with his mother back on Earth.

More than that, though, they had an aura about them that made him think of Talia. They weren’t undead; he knew that. But there was something vital missing. It was even more noticeable because he’d only recently seen Oberon, who was also a dwarf. However, where these new, gray dwarves felt almost like lifeless hunks of rock, Oberon was brimming with vital energy.

Perhaps there were different kinds of dwarves.

“Nothing,” Zeke said, putting his head down in deference. His every instinct told him to lash out, to rip the dwarf limb from limb. But he knew that was a mistake. For one, he needed to do whatever it was that Oberon had hinted at. That was his first priority. Second, he had no idea how strong the gray dwarves really were. For all he knew, he was just a nuisance to them. And third, he was still shackled; even knowing what he needed to do, it would still take him hours – at least – to break the enchantment that prevented him from using his skills.

“Damn right, nothin’,” the dwarf spat. Then, he grabbed a cudgel at his own waist and poked Zeke in the ribs. “Speed up, longshanks. Ain’t got time for no dilly dally.”

There was a part of Zeke that wondered how he understood the dwarf at all. After all, he was in an entirely different world, populated by alien creatures that had never existed on Earth, much less learned to speak English. So, why did the dwarves sound like they were speaking with a Scottish accent? But that wasn’t quite right, either. It almost sounded like someone imitating a Scottish accent, though Zeke couldn’t be sure, given that his experiences with the culture were limited to what he’d seen on television. Either way, there was no explanation forthcoming, so he decided to believe that the Framework had a universal language function.

Zeke continued to trudge through the snow, grateful that the group of dwarves in front of him had already broken a path. After growing up in a subtropical environment, he had very little experience with snow. Sure, he’d spent some time in the mountains of the Radiant Isles, but trekking through that snow hadn’t been nearly as onerous. For hours, he shuffled along, his gait hampered by the shackles around his ankles, and eventually, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the dwarven leader called for them to make camp.

In minutes, and using magic, skills, or items – Zeke didn’t know which – the dwarves had raised a dozen tents, started a fire, and started cooking the nightly meal. For his part, Zeke helped where he was told to help, but he was mostly left to his own devices. So, he planted himself as close to the fire as was allowed and waited. He knew from experience that he wouldn’t be given a spot in the tents; those were reserved for the dwarves. But it didn’t matter. There was some sort of magic at play that kept the worst of the cold at bay.

Before long, someone shoved a bowl of gruel into his hands. Despite knowing that it was largely tasteless, Zeke dug in. After hours of walking, he was famished. And he knew that if he was going to make the most of his time as the dwarves’ prisoner, he would need to maintain his energy. Luckily, the gruel, though bland, was incredibly nourishing. More magic, Zeke suspected.

Once he’d finished eating, one of the dwarves put him to work cleaning the dishes using melted snow. As he did, the dwarves settled down to drink. However, unlike what he would have expected, based on Earth’s mythology, the dwarves were not a boisterous crowd. Instead, they drank in near silence, each staring at their mugs of ale – Zeke hadn’t seen where those had come from – with bland expressions.

Zeke had never really been much of a drinker – a combination of being too young and too dedicated to baseball – but their behavior definitely stood out. It was like watching a bunch of depressed alcoholics drinking not because they enjoyed it, but rather because they didn’t know what else to do.

Thankfully, though, they mostly left him alone when they drank, which gave Zeke plenty of time to meditate on his predicament. Some of that time was spent examining the runes on his shackles, but a lot of it was spent just thinking about how his life had suddenly changed. He had gone from being surrounded by friends to being enslaved. More than once, he found himself concentrating on the bonds of [Mark of Companionship]. Pudge was too far away for Zeke to feel any of the bear’s emotions, but he took comfort in knowing that his companion was still alive.

The same could be said for Talia, who was probably in a much more precarious situation. Ever since taking her in, Zeke and Abby had shielded Talia from civilization, lest she feel the full weight of the societal discrimination that came with her undead nature. But now? She had no buffer. She would have to survive on her own. And while she was well-equipped to do so, Zeke wondered what it would do to her psyche. Perhaps she would truly become the monster she thought herself to be.

Such thoughts occupied Zeke’s mind until one of the dwarves grunted at him and pointed to a patch of snow. “Sleep,” the dwarf growled. “Early mornin’ comin’.”

Zeke didn’t argue. Instead, he curled by the fire and closed his eyes. Not long after, unconsciousness overtook him. In the beginning, Zeke had been hesitate to let down his guard, but now? He knew he was seen as a valuable piece of property. As such, the dwarves wouldn’t do anything to him unless he gave them reason. So, he slept in peace.

The next morning, a kick to his ribs brought him back to consciousness, and, without speaking, Zeke greeted the new day. He squinted as the sun glinted off of the blindingly white snow; it was the same every morning. Over the course of the day, he’d slowly grow accustomed to the glare, but after spending an entire night in the darkness, it would assail him anew each morning.

So it went for another three days. Slowly, the mountains – which were much further away than Zeke had initially thought – grew nearer. And Zeke was forced to reevaluate the size. If these were mere mountains, then what he’d experienced back in the Radiant Isles barely qualified as hills. To say they were huge would have been a vast understatement; in fact, Zeke had difficulty even comprehending the scale on display.

As the party drew closer, the details of the mountains became more apparent. Trees decorated the lower portions, but the snowy summits were writhed in clouds. What’s more, when Zeke looked upon them, he felt a deep sense of cold that left him shivering. When one of the dwarves noticed, he said, “Noticed the Frigid Peaks, eh? You’re a tough one, that’s for sure, but even you’d shatter into a million pieces before you reached the summit.”

Zeke shook his head, wanting nothing to do with those Frigid Peaks. As a cambion, he was a creature of fire, and he had no desire to put his nature to the test against such biting cold. Luckily, the dwarves had revealed that their destination was quite a bit lower, and that their city was located underground. Hopefully, that dreadful cold hadn’t infected the deep tunnels.

Zeke’s routine didn’t change for another two days, and by the time they reached their destination, the mountains loomed high above them like an impenetrable wall. But that wasn’t what drew Zeke’s attention; for almost a week, those mountains had been an everpresent reminder of just how tiny and insignificant he really was, and he’d grown used to the feeling. So, it had faded into the background of his consciousness – always there, but oft ignored. That left the bulk of his attention for the enormous gate set into the mountain.

It was at least a hundred feet tall, with massive columns ascending even higher. Those columns were carved with thousands of glyphs and symbols that Zeke’s senses told him were tied to a web of underlying runes. He had no idea as to their purpose, but he could see enough to tell him that they were both complex and powerful to the point that he felt pressured just looking at them.

Between those massive columns was an imposing lifelike statue of an armored dwarf. The dwarf held a huge warhammer, the head of which was planted atop the gate. Its hands rested on the pommel. The statue hummed with power, suggesting that it was tied to the columns in some way.

“Min Ferelik,” one of the dwarves muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. The other dwarves did the same.

Then, as if they were of one mind, their arms dropped to their sides and they continued along like nothing had happened. Zeke followed, wondering what had just happened. Was it a simple ritual? Or had something magical happened? Zeke had felt a slight stirring of the mana, but it was weak. Inconsequential. Barely perceptible.

He got no chance to ponder it, because soon, they were approaching the huge gate. It was open, but there were twenty armed and armored dwarves standing at attention. Each were had similar complexions to the slavers, though there was some variation in their craggy faces. A hooked nose here, watery eyes there – they were as different as any group of humans. That was a bit of a surprise, given that the dwarves who’d captured him all shared very similar features, which had initially led him to believe that the gray dwarves were all like that. Now, he was beginning to think that his captors were members of the same family.

The leader approached one of the armored guards who said, “Fresh meat for the grinder, eh?”

“Aye,” said the lead slaver. He spat. “He’s a strong one, too.”

“Trouble?” asked the guard, glancing in Zeke’s direction.

“Meek as a deep worm,” the slaver replied. “Probably plottin’ somethin’, if you ask me. The big ‘uns always are.”

“Oh, aye,” said the guard. “Well, go on ahead. Just in time for the market. Big, strong fella like him ought to bring a good bit of beads.”

“That’s the idea,” was the lead slaver’s reply.

Then, without further conversation, he gestured to the others, and Zeke felt one of the other slavers’ cudgels jabbing into his back. Over the course of the last week or so, he’d learned what that meant, and he started moving after the lead slaver. As he did, he noticed that the guards all looked at him with bare contempt.

Clearly, they didn’t like people like him.

The gate turned into a massive tunnel that they followed for a hundred yards or so before they reached a “T” intersection. One side led down, while the other angled upward. The slavers didn’t hesitate to lead him down the ramp and into the bowels of the mountain.

Zeke’s muscles tensed as he felt a mountain’s worth of rock bearing down on him. He hadn’t had great experiences underground, and yet again, he was forced into another series of caves. As a result, he felt himself shifting into the same animalistic survival mode he’d adopted in the troll caverns. It wasn’t just a change in mindset; rather, the deeper Zeke went, the more he felt like a completely different person.

He could have stopped it. He could have focused on all the progress he’d made as a person since then. However, he chose not to because something told him that he’d need that mindset if he was going to survive.