Henrik Saetre
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Riftside - chapter 11
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 20:56:53 +0000 UTCThe soul chart hovered in my vision like a thick tendril of smoke that wouldn't dissipate. I tried to withdraw from it mentally, but the damn thing just stayed there as if mocking me.
Come on, come on!
My tattoo itched worse, like ants crawling under my skin and trying to bite their way through. It burned. For a moment, I thought my skin was about to melt.
“So, what do you think about the group composition?” Eryn asked, squeezing my arm.
“What?” I blinked hard, still busy trying to clear the text from my sight. “Why do you ask?”
Eryn's hand dropped from my arm.
“Are you serious right now? Did you hurt your head or something?”
I kept trying to mentally grasp the chart, to move it, push it away—anything. The silvery text refused to budge no matter what I did.
“Yeah, might be it. I can feel it throbbing harder by the moment,” I said, trying to buy myself a minute.
“Clearly.” Her voice went cold. “If you don't have anything to say about Benedict bringing Tormund after he knocked out Alex in the tavern last week, you must be really out of it.”
Tormund? What's going on?
The itch from my tattoo grew unbearable. I reached up to scratch it, and the moment my fingers touched the mark, the soul chart shifted.
By the bells!
I froze mid-step, dragging my finger across the tattoo. The chart followed the movement, sliding across my vision like ink on glass. A pinching motion with my fingers made it shrink to a corner of my sight. Another swipe and it vanished completely.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest.
“Something funny?” Eryn's eyes narrowed.
Finally able to see clearly, I looked ahead at Benedict's group. I recognized them from around Dawnwatch—Knut with his rugged northern armor, Raven skulking at the edges of the group, Wade fiddling with a modified crossbow, and Tormund's scarred face twisted in a permanent sneer.
Wait.
My gut clenched.
Where's Commander Edwin? Where are Alex and the others?
“Fucking portal piss.” The curse slipped out before I could stop it. “This isn't Edwin's party.”
“Yeah, it clearly isn't.” Eryn shot a glance at the group. “Did Benedict lie to you, too?”
I grabbed her arm.
“What do you mean, 'lie'?”
“I thought we were going with Edwin's party.” Her left hand squeezed into a fist. “Not some random band of adventurers Benedict cobbled together. They don't even have a healer.”
The conversation with Benedict replayed in my mind. He'd mentioned a monster hunt and invited me as lead scavenger, but... had he actually said anything about Edwin? No, I'd just assumed that the commander would be there. Like the idiot that I was.
“Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair. “He didn't exactly lie to me. All he did was invite me to a hunt and—”
Eryn's face fell as understanding dawned.
“It's the same thing he did to me.” She glanced at Benedict's group, then back to me. “What should we do?”
Before I could think it through, Benedict's voice cut across the clearing.
“Lovebirds! Get over here!”
Tormund let out a harsh laugh.
“Give it a rest,” I called back, taking Eryn's hand. “The monsters aren't going anywhere. Try not to be so jealous.”
Benedict's face darkened.
“The monsters might not be leaving, but we are. You've got one minute to get your asses in gear.”
Eryn squeezed my hand as I scanned our companions. Marcus stood off to the side with another scavenger I didn't recognize.
Great. Marcus the coward. No help there if the monsters get past Benedict's party.
“He must have done this on purpose,” Eryn whispered. “Getting us to join by implying he's still with Edwin. But he couldn't even get a fifth.”
“Probably.” I kept my voice low. “But can we afford to be known as the scavengers who bail after agreeing to go out on a scavenging run? Not even a dungeon run but a hunt?” I caught her eye. “You're more ambitious than that. We both are. Do you know the destination?”
She sighed but nodded.
“He's not dumb. They should be able to do this run easily. We're heading to the metal grove.”
That meant steel scuttler monsters. Metal-eating creatures that looked like giant crabs the size of wolves. Pa had been wanting some of those for weeks now. A perfect way to start paying him back for the shield, the hammer, and everything really. Plus, I'd read the scouts' report, and they'd discovered the grove just half an hour from Sentinel Station. A walk through the forest with Eryn didn't sound half bad. I could show her the hammer and see what she thought about it.
“Let's do it.” I said, trying not scratching my wrist. “Like a first date. You know, if you're into monster slaying and gore.”
Her laugh brightened the whole clearing.
“If it’s the first of many.”
I pulled her toward the group, but Benedict's glare stopped us short.
“Are you two going to be able to focus?” His fingers drummed against his staff. “This isn't a walk in the park. This is monster hunting, Riftside. Outside the walls.” Frost crackled along his staff. “I need to know now if you'll have trouble keeping your eyes up and out instead of on each other.”
“Won't be a problem.” I met his stare. “Nothing's changed since the dungeon.”
Nothing you need to know about, anyway.
And there was one other question on my tongue. How bad had it been to get kicked out by Edwin? But I knew better than to push the wizard further.
Benedict sighed and nodded, then turned to Marcus.
“You're the lead scavenger for this mission.”
“What?” The word burst out before I could stop it. “You said—”
“That was before you couldn't stay on your feet just stepping through the rift,” Benedict sneered. “And all while carrying a shield done in adventuring guild's colors. You did good in the dungeon, Ash, but do not forget your place.” His eyes lingered on my shield. “At this point, you're lucky we're taking you at all. Sharpen up.”
My teeth ground together as I nodded. Eryn's hand found my back, a gentle pressure keeping me steady.
All I wanted was to hit the road already so Benedict had to look for monsters instead of watching me. I could take out the hammer then and maybe even put it to use.
Hopefully, the scratching would pass, too, as it was becoming unbearable.
Finally, we lined up at the gate, each person placing their hand on the soul chart mounted there. I watched them check their stats and whatever else the classed had access to in the pre-hunt ritual.
Would mine show up as normal, or had the weapon changed me?
A drop of sweat rolled down my back as my turn came and I pressed my palm to the cool stone.
The numbers appeared, and I sighed in relief.
Eighteen strength.
Just yesterday it was fifteen, and it had taken me years to gain the four extra doing blacksmithing and all kinds of tough manual jobs.
I licked my lips and stared at my itchy tattoo.
It has to be the hammer.
A shiver ran through me.
What else had changed after the binding?
“Coming?” Eryn asked, and I tore my eyes from the chart, mechanically walking to join her.
She glanced at the shield.
“It's gorgeous, by the way. Did your mother paint it?”
“Sure did,” I said and fell in line.
*
“...then I told him he could shove his family trade up his own snout.” Eryn laughed softly as we walked beneath the steelhusk trees. “My mother’s face when I said that to the richest merchant's son in the whole caravan - I thought she'd faint dead away.”
“You didn't,” I chuckled, though my attention kept drifting to my wrist. The itching had grown worse with every step deeper into the forest, and my hand kept opening and closing, yearning for the grip of the hammer.
“Oh, I did,” she said with a grin. “Turned down a marriage proposal and a fortune in one breath. Best decision I ever made.”
Marcus and the other scavenger trudged ahead of us. Benedict's party was barely visible through the grey-purple trunks. The massive steelhusk trees loomed overhead, their metallic bark catching what little sunlight filtered through the dense canopy. I kept my eyes peeled upward, making sure nothing jumped us from overhead.
Yet I found myself torn between staying vigilant, talking to Eryn, and ignoring my burning wrist. The hammer wanted out, that much was certain.
“Eryn,” I said, clearing my throat, interrupting her. “Speaking of families - Pa gave me something before we left. A new weapon.”
Her eyes lit up.
“Really? What kind?”
“A hammer.” I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “But, ah, please stay calm when you see it. The weapon might look a little... strange.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Strange how?”
Instead of answering, I swiped at my spatial storage, willing the hammer to materialize in my right hand. The uncharacteristically lightweight steelhusk weapon settled into my palm as if I'd been wielding it for all my life.
Eryn gasped.
“Ash, that's gorgeous! Shinier than my mirror! And those patterns—”
“ABOUT BLOODY TIME!” a metallic voice thundered inside my skull. “Do you have ANY idea what your storage smells like? It smells of... NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!”
My teeth clacked together and I stumbled, nearly walking into a tree.
“I WILL NOT BE DIS—”
I swiped the hammer back into the storage on instinct. The voice cut off instantly, too.
“Ash?” Eryn grabbed my arm, her green eyes filled with concern. “What's wrong? I'm starting to get really worried. Ever since you walked through the rift, something's been off.”
I barked out a laugh that sounded hollow even to my ears, looking up and catching a glimpse of the silver tree, marking the Metal Grove not far ahead.
“Just, ah, nervous about showing you the goods?”
Am I going crazy or did my hammer just yell at me... and right in my mind at that?
Eryn's laugh rang through the trees.
“Don't worry so much! I'm sure it'll work brilliantly. Come on, whip it out again. I want to see!”
“The way you're saying that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence,” I muttered, but swallowed hard, then swiped the hammer out again and held it at arm's length like it might bite.
“I—umm, yeah, I did that on purpose. Bet you didn't mind though, right?” she said and laughed, bumping into my shoulder. “Joke aside, the craftsmanship is incredible.” Eryn leaned in for a closer look. “Clearly made from steelhusk, but how did you get the colors to shift like that?”
“If you DARE disrespect me ONE MORE TIME and shove me back into that VOID!” The hammer’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper, “I will ensure your last moments are spent contemplating the exact magnitude of your mistake.”
A talking hammer. I’m talking to a hammer!
The thought ricocheted around my head like a stray nail.
A murderous, talking hammer no less. Just great.
“Thanks.” I managed a weak smile at Eryn. “Pa outdid himself this time.”
“Now you listen to me, you calcium-biped! Hey! ARE you even LISTENING? Do you have ANY idea who I am? WHAT I am?” The voice shut up for a second and then it continued again. “I am magnificence incarnate, power beyond your comprehension, and you DARE to—”
“It looks so well-balanced,” Eryn said as my eye twitched at the internal screaming. “Can I hold it?”
“NO!” The hammer's presence seemed to my my hand coil around its handle like a possessive snake. “I REFUSE to be handled by another flesh-creature! It is bad enough to be bound to ONE of your kind. No one else shall touch me!”
“Sorry,” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady. “It's, uh, temperamental.”
“Oh, I'M temperamental? That's rich coming from a primitive monkey who can't even... wait.” The voice paused. “Did you just call me temperamental? ME? I, who have existed since... who was forged in... who... who...”
The voice trailed off in confusion as if it had lost its train of thought.
“Temperamental? You're looking at it like it holds all the secrets of the rifts,” Eryn said softly. Her hand slid down to mine, fingers intertwining. “I know you're a blacksmith, and it's beautiful work, but it's just a hammer.”
“Just a hammer? JUST A HAMMER? Let me at her! I will bash her calcium-skull in!” The voice rose to new heights of indignation. “I am sophistication INCARNATE! Power beyond mortal comprehension! I am—” The voice stumbled. “I am... Well, I may not remember exactly who I am, but I KNOW I'm far more sophisticated than some crude striking implement!”
I fought to keep my face neutral as we walked.
“There might be a bit of magic in it.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Magic! Why didn't you say so? That might be what's making you light-headed?” Eryn pressed. “You should have stayed home. Hell, you could have told me and I'd have stayed with you. Screw these guys!”
“A BIT of magic? Tell her I am a SUPREME being of ULTIMATE POWER! Tell her I— actually, no, don't tell her anything. You'll just butcher the introduction with your limited vocabulary and minimal intelligence.”
“Light-headed,” I chuckled. “Yeah. Maybe. It's complicated,” I said, which seemed to satisfy exactly no one.
“Fascinating.” The voice turned thoughtful. “Your mental capacity appears even lower than initially estimated. Tell me, can you comprehend words longer than two syllables, or should I limit myself to grunts and simple mind gestures?”
I gritted my teeth.
“Really complicated,” I said.
“AHA! You CAN'T handle complex language! I knew it! Though I suppose I shouldn't expect more from someone who thought binding with—” The voice faltered. “Why CAN'T I remember? What did you DO to me?”
“Are you sure you're feeling alright?” Eryn asked and touched my arm. “You look... tense.”
“I'm fine, just—” What could I possibly say? That my new weapon was currently screaming insults in my mind? I forced a smile and steadied my breathing as best as I could. “Just excited to try it out.”
“Oh, YES! Let's see what you can do with me.” The voice dripped with sarcasm. “I'm sure your technique will be STELLAR. Like watching a cave troll forging jewelry.”
Up ahead, Raven held up his hand and everyone slowed, giving him time to return to the party.
“Steel Scuttlers. Three of them, on the edge of the grove.”
Eryn squeezed my hand once before letting go, and nocked an arrow.
I spun the hammer, feeling its impossibly light weight, and shook the shield from my back.
“Finally! Some ACTION! Now, listen carefully you bumbling disaster. When the fighting starts, try not to take TOO long to die. Do me a favour and bleed out super fast. Free me from this perverted bond so someone worthy of my exquisiteness may pick me up. Though I suppose that's like asking water not to be wet. Wow, am I good or am I good?”
“One moment, please,” I said, holding up my shield.
“What?” Benedict turned, confusion on his face.
“Battle prayer,” I said.
“Battle prayer? Who do you think—”
But before Benedict could finish, Knut grunted in approval.
“We wait.”
“Wait for a level three scavenger to finish a battle prayer!?” Benedict turned to the tank, but I blocked out their conversation.
Can the hammer hear my thoughts?
“Come on, biped! Hiyah! Attack! Sick 'em! Go die!”
Seemed not. But maybe... I focused inwards, willing my thoughts towards the voice.
“Hey, you. Hammer.”
“Oh! So you CAN hear me. Great! Now listen to my commands and—”
I'd just about had enough. It was time to set the pecking order. And that started with me, whatever the hell I wished, my family, my friends, our community, and then my weapon.
I swept the hammer into my storage and counted to three before taking it out again.
“AHHHHHHHH! NO! ME use SIMPLE words. You understand. Bad biped! No store hammer. Storage BAD.”
“Then shut the hell up and listen to me.”
“Don’t talk to me like a—”
With a chuckle, I swiped the hammer back into storage, and this time counted to four, mumbling something prayer-like out loud to satisfy my companions, as Benedict's argument with Knut continued.
When the hammer materialized again, the voice was subdued.
“Alright. You have made your point, biped, I—”
“Call me Ash.”
The voice paused for a moment as if considering if it should comply. It did.
“Fine. Ash. An appropriate name, considering it will be your end state. Now, don't put me back into the sensory-depriving prison you call storage again.”
“Say 'please'.”
“What? Like a common beggar? I'll have you know that is the language of a copper dagger or wooden cudgel, absolutely barbaric! No class at all. And—”
I inched my hand towards my wrist.
“No, don't you even dare go there! Please don't store me or I will make you suffer—”
I halted.
“You were saying?”
“I meant, umm, there's not even a cushion in there for my marvelous bulk.”
“Then behave and I might get you something more comfortable. Also, what do I call you?”
“Hah! Finally a worthy question.” A rumble crashed through my mind, like a metallic dragon clearing its throat. “Vannash' Khazeesh, in your grip. You may call me 'sire', 'your excellency', or 'master'.”
“There's no way I'm calling you that. Any of it. I think I'll call you... Roq.”
“What!? You can't do that! I demand to be respected and—”
I sent Roq on a quick trip in and out of my storage, and he returned to my grip with a whimper.
“Fine. You win for now, Ash.”
“Amen,” I said out loud, cutting off the internal dialogue. “Ready.”
Benedict shot me a withering look.
“How generous of you to finish today.” He pointed to a cluster of metallic trunks several paces back. “Now go stand over there, scavengers. And don't get in our way.”
“Actually—” Raven started.
“Shut up,” Benedict snapped and raised his staff. “Knut, take the damn point. Raven, flank left; Wade, right. Tormund, let's kill and loot these things.”
“Be quiet now and pay attention.”
I moved into position with Eryn, Marcus, and the other scavenger, a burly guy with his hair slicked back. Our boots rang against the metal-rich soil, and the air was thick with the smell of mineral-laden sap, as if we'd spent an hour grinding metal in the forge.
“Well, well, won't you look at that?” the hammer's voice resounded, dripping with disdain. “Standing back while others do the fighting? How... predictable.”
“This is literally our job. We're here to harvest materials.”
Ahead, the massive silvery tree rose like a statue of pure metal, its trunk, branches, and leaves all still in the wind.
Eryn settled beside me, arrow nocked but pointed down. Her eyes tracked Benedict's party as they moved into formation.
“Hey, I've lost you again,” Eryn whispered, nudging me. “We really need to have a chat once we're back. Over a drink or two, preferably.”
“I promise to have that drink or two for sure. Today's just...insane,” I said.
“Insane, huh? You could say that, yes. But, umm, think they'll slay enough today for us to get some, too?”
“We'll see.”
“Quiet,” Marcus said, a mockery of command in his voice. “Stop embarrassing us in front of the adventurers, Ash. We're here to support Benedict. Know your place.”
The hammer's laughter rang through my mind, sharp and metallic.
“Oh. They'll both get more than what they asked for.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She'll have access to more materials than she could ever harvest. And the coward will get his chance to support the heroes. More than he would ever wish for.”
I frowned, unsure what he was getting at.
“Roq, speak plainly or I might leave you in storage for longer than four seconds.”
The Scuttlers were moving between the trees, their wolf-sized bodies glinting in what light made it past the treetops. Their metallic shells were a blacksmith's dream, which was precisely why Pa even wanted them. He'd be able to make armor and shields using their carcasses, both to sell off and maybe even some for me.
Benedict's magic crackled through the air, and ice exploded from a scuttler's shell, killing it.
“Can you not feel the vibrations?”
Two other Scuttlers charged, their pincers large enough to snap off a man's thigh. Knut's mace came down on the second's shell, stunning it long enough for Tormund to saunter over and plunge his massive two-handed sword through its body.
Raven's arrow slipped into the ground beneath the third monster, forcing it to rear up. Wade didn't waste the opening, and with a twang, his crossbow bolt punched through the exposed underside. The creature let out a shriek as it fell to the ground, skidded to a halt, and collapsed.
“Your superiors are real warriors, true, but—”
“I am their equal in every way, Roq.”
Except for level and stats.
“We will see.” Roq chuckled as Benedict, Tormund, and Knut stored a monster each. “And when you fail, your lifeblood pouring onto the ground, feel safe in the knowledge your failure will one day be forgotten, even as I live on.”
“For bells' sake, what are you on about?”
“The vibrations. In the earth. In the trees. They're coming for you.”
“Who is coming?”
Benedict and Wade argued loudly, the crossbowman demanding one of the three initial carcasses. Oblivious or uncaring, Raven pinged an arrow off the shell of another trio, pulling the pack, and Knut lined up to intercept.
“Are you alright, Ash?” Eryn's hand touched my arm. “You've got that look again. Does your head still hurt?”
“The SWARM, you dim-witted biped! The entire colony! Hundreds of legs. Thousands of them, and they are all coming for you!” Roq's voice rose with a manic edge.
I stared down at the metallic flakes covering the ground. The smallest ones. They shook. Like the houses had on the day of the first monster invasion. The day Samuel, my best friend, died.
My eyes went wide as realization set in.
Shattered gems!
