Path of Dragons

Cold, clammy humidity hung thick in the air as autumn had begun to give way to winter’s frigid grip. Still, as Elijah raced across his island, he was largely unaffected, save for the sweat on his brow. Even so, the robes he’d sewn were ill-fitting, and as he went, he had to take great care to keep them from snagging on the dense foliage. As a result, his progress was slower than if he’d been less clothed.

Oddly enough, he almost wished he could return to the nudity of his time in the tower. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Instead, he could focus on the task at hand.

The two figures who’d arrived on his island still hadn’t moved more than a few feet from their little boats, suggesting that they were waiting on him. The white flag supported that notion, though, as he approached, he remained wary of any traps. Sure, he could feel everything through his Locus, but he was also fairly ignorant of the world. For all he knew, there were ways around his extra-sensory perception. And he had no intention of walking into a trap.

Elijah took a few minutes to visually inspect the area, but to his relief, he found nothing out of the ordinary. So, without further delay, he headed toward the beach, stopping a few feet away from the tree line. From there, he studied the newcomers with his own two eyes. There were a pair of them – a goblin and a dwarf – but neither looked to be armed.

The goblin’s skin was pale, with only the barest hint of a green tint. Both of his huge, bat-like ears bore multiple piercings that glittered gold and silver, but his features were a little less exaggerated than the other goblins Elijah had seen. He wore sturdy boots, slacks, and a black vest over a white shirt. In short, he looked strikingly normal, even despite his short stature and obvious goblinhood.

The dwarven woman next to him was the exact opposite. With heavy shoulders bulging with muscle, she wore a sleeveless tunic and a plaid kilt whose hem brushed against the rocky beach. More than that, her worn features and leathery skin told a story of hard work.

But neither looked like a combatant, though Elijah had to admit that, due to his ignorance, he probably wasn’t the best judge of such things. For all he knew, he was looking at the two most dangerous people in the world. He didn’t think that was the case, but he really didn’t have much basis for that judgement.

Elijah took a deep breath, then stepped out from the tree line. The pair flinched at his appearance, but neither of them said anything as he approached. With each step, they grew more frightened until, at last, he was only ten feet away. He didn’t intend to go any closer.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, planting the butt of his staff in the ground.

“Apologies,” said the goblin, wringing his hands. His voice was fairly high-pitched but scratchy. Almost as if he was a pre-teen with a sore throat. “But we are emissaries from the Green Mountain Mining Guild.”

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?” Elijah asked.

“No. Not as such,” stated the goblin. “But we have come to apologize.”

“Oh?” Elijah asked.

“Yes. Eason Cabbot blatantly flouted our rules when he led his subordinates to this island,” the goblin said. “He –”

“What about when he tried to kidnap and drain a dragon?” Elijah asked. “Was that against your rules, too?”

“W-what?”

“You heard me,” he said.

“We…we knew nothing of this…”

“Oh, come off it, Ramik,” huffed the dwarf. Her voice was gruff, and her tone one of annoyance. “You knew the connivin’ little bastard was up to somethin’. You might not’ve known what, but you knew somethin’.”

“Carisa!”

“What? You ain’t convincin’ nobody with your little act. Just be straight with ‘im like I said. He’ll come around or he won’t,” she said. Then, she tuned to face Elijah and said, “I’m Carisa. Head o’ the miners. Meanin’ I’m only second in command to Ramik there. ‘Cept he knows if he steps out o’ line, I’ll straighten ‘im out real quick-like.”

“You will do no such thing!” spat the goblin. “I am your superior, and I would appreciate it if you acted as such.” Then, as if he’d just remembered Elijah was there, he went even paler than normal. He took a deep breath, then straightened his vest. “Right. As I was saying, the Green Mountain Mining Guild and Ironshore had no knowledge of Cabbot’s misdeeds. If we had, we would have stopped him.”

“Wouldn’t’ve done much good,” Carisa stated. “He had all the fighters on ‘is side. Wasn’t nothin’ we could do to stop him. ‘Cept Mr. Protector of the Grove over here did us a favor, yeah?”

“I didn’t do anyone any favors,” Elijah interjected, finally deigning to speak. “They invaded my island. I reacted.”

“Some reaction,” she muttered.

Elijah shrugged. “I don’t like unannounced visitors. Which brings me to why you’re here,” he said. “I seem to recall telling that little goblin mage that I’d kill anybody who set foot on my island.”

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“And yet we still live,” said Ramik.

“That could change.”

He swallowed hard in an exaggerated expression of fear.

“What do you want?” Elijah asked before either of his two visitors could speak again.

“An understandin’,” said Carisa. “Maybe even an alliance.”

At that, Elijah wanted to laugh out loud. His only real contact with the settlement had been the murder of nearly fifty people. To follow that up with diplomacy was more than a little surprising. Still, he kept his face expressionless.

“And what do you offer?” he asked.

“What do you want?” Ramik countered.

“Nothing,” Elijah said. And he meant it. The island could provide everything he needed. Certainly, he intended to expand his horizons sometime in the near future, but they didn’t need to know that. The less the people of Ironshore knew about his island, the better – at least as far as he was concerned.

But then again, if they’d come to him, they probably wanted to keep him happy.

“We needn’t be enemies,” Ramik said.

Elijah shrugged. “I’m content with being very distant neighbors. Like I said, I want people to stay away from my island,” he responded. “That’s it. I was fine with things the way they were. I stayed here, you all stayed over there. But then fifty people came to my island hoping to…I don’t even know what they intended, but it wasn’t good. I like this place the way it is, and I don’t want anyone screwing with it.”

“That seems reasonable,” Ramik responded. “But let me ask you this – do you enjoy wearing rags? I suspect that you could use many things that we take for granted. That’s what I’m offering. Clothing. Equipment. Soap –”

“I make my own soap.”

“What? Really? I mean…never mind that,” Ramik went on. “I don’t –”

Carissa interrupted, asking, “Yer a human, ain’t you? A native, right?”

“I am.”

“We can give you access to our Branch. Should be at least as advanced as any on the planet,” she said.

Elijah didn’t immediately respond. That was the one thing he really wanted more than anything else, largely so he could cure some of his ignorance. However, he could also admit that he wouldn’t mind seeing what goods they had to offer. Perhaps some spices. Maybe something with caffeine. He definitely missed coffee. Or perhaps he could obtain some proper clothing. It was an attractive offer, but there was one thing that neither Ramik nor Carissa had mentioned.

“And what do you want from me?”

“Mutual defense,” Ramik said. “You killed most of our fighters. We still have enough for basic defense, but if any truly powerful enemies attack, we will be vulnerable. I’ve sent for reinforcements, but those cost quite a bit of etherium, and I’ll be honest – the coffers aren’t precisely overflowing of late.”

At that, he directed a pointed glare at Carissa.

“Don’t look at me,” she said before spitting on the ground. “Ain’t my fault the true iron’s stubborn on this planet. We’re gettin’ there. Just takin’ a bit longer’n we thought it would.”

Ramik sighed. “This is neither the time nor the place to get into that,” he said. “Mr. Protector, if –”

Elijah cringed at the moniker. If he’d had it to do over again, he certainly wouldn’t have labeled himself in such a way. But there was nothing he could do about it now. So, he said, “My name is Elijah.”

“Oh. Right. Elijah,” the goblin repeated. “We would also like the opportunity to purchase any equipment you might have…ah…acquired during the previous raid.”

That, Elijah had no issues with. He’d already set aside a few pieces he thought might be valuable – an axe he intended to use for cutting down trees, a few extra daggers, and lots of leather and cloth – but the rest, he had little use for. If he could simply sell them back to the people of Ironshore, it would solve some issues for him.

“I have no problem with the last part. The rest of it, I’m going to have to give some thought. I don’t think I’m revealing any secrets when I say that I don’t trust you,” Elijah said. “Your people came here to kill me and take what was mine. If they could have done it, they would have.”

“Right, but –”

“I’m not finished,” Elijah growled. “Even so, I’m not completely opposed to the idea of working together. I just need to give it some thought before I commit to anything. In the meantime, I would ask that you get back in your boat and return to Ironshore. I will bring the equipment across once I’ve made my decision.”

For a moment, the goblin looked like he was going to say something else. However, Carissa beat him to it, saying, “Sounds fair ‘nuff.”

Elijah just nodded, then turned around and retreated into the trees. He didn’t stop, either. Instead, he just kept going, never turning back. However, he did keep tabs on his visitors, who resorted to arguing the moment he was out of earshot. That wasn’t surprising; they seemed keen enough on bickering.

But then they boarded their little rowboat and, soon enough, they were on their way back to Ironshore. Elijah lost track of them when they passed out of his Locus.

When he got back to the Grove, he went straight to the ancestral tree and called for Nerthus. The little tree spirit had grown more active with every passing day, so he responded in only a few seconds.

“Yes?”

Elijah wasted no time before telling him what had happened. When he’d finished – which didn’t take long – he asked, “So, any advice? I was thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to sell the weapons back, at least.”

“You need to access the Branch. Whatever concessions you must make, that should be the goal.”

“Is it really that important?”

“It is. As I’ve said before, I am restricted in what information I can pass on. That is by design. On integrated worlds, the rules are much more flexible, but here, the origin of any knowledge must be the World Tree.”

“Why?”

“Three reasons. The first is that the system is infallible. As such, any information it provides is guaranteed to be true. The same cannot be said for what might be passed on by visitors such as those goblins or gnomes. It is not difficult to manipulate people with bad information.”

Elijah nodded. That much was true. Before the world had been transformed, humanity had been plagued by misinformation. Bad actors the world over had spent trillions of dollars in an effort to manipulate the populace via incomplete or outright false information. So, it stood to reason that the invaders – or visitors, as Nerthus categorized them – could do the same.

“And the second reason?”

“It is generally agreed that knowledge freely given does not promote the sort of growth necessary for the system’s goals. As such, earning knowledge is preferable,” Nerthus stated. “And finally, the system is an ethereal construct that needs fuel to function. The ethereium spent on various functions accessible at any Branch goes towards that goal.

“Aside from that, what good is etherium? I mean, I know it’s money, but does it have value other than what’s assigned to it?”

“Of course. Etherium is a basic component of crafting,” Nerthus explained. “Before you ask – no, I can’t explain it to you.”

Elijah sighed. It was just further evidence that he needed to access that Branch. Just like that, he made up his mind. He intended to approach any potential alliance with his eyes wide open, though. And if they stepped one toe out of line, he had no issues repeating his actions from the week before.

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