Fortress Al-Mir

Silver City did not live up to its name. It wasn’t silver, though Arkk hadn’t expected it to be. It wasn’t a city either. Barely larger than Smilesville Burg, Silver City lacked walls, expansive farmland, a stayover, and even a church. Nestled against the wrong side of a mountain, the moist smell of mildew permeated every one of the tightly-packed homes and storage warehouses.

Despite the state of the mine putting the miners out of work, the settlement was still populated. It might have been better had the people scattered to the winds. Everywhere Arkk looked, people were downtrodden, covered in filth, and gaunt. The latter issue was all the more apparent in the children that roamed the streets. Their bony arms and knobby knees reminded Arkk of a famine that had hit Langleey in his youth. They had managed to get some help from Smilesville.

The Baron of this village probably traded the goods from the mine for the bulk of their food. The farmland was too small to support this place on its own. Fewer farms meant more people working the mines. As long as they had goods to trade, the more miners they could get, the better.

Normally. Without the goods from the mines, their survival would rely on altruism from the nearby settlements.

And it didn’t look like anyone was helping here. Certainly not the Duke with his droves of taxed food and goods. With the air chilly and winter setting in, it would only get worse.

Arkk and Vezta on their own would have drawn plenty of looks. Vezta especially. She wasn’t bothering to hide most of her inhuman nature, having donned a cloak but was still walking in the open with her dark violet skin and a multitude of moving eyes set about her body. Despite that, Arkk was pretty sure the villagers gathering in their wake were far more interested in the chickens hanging from his and Vezta’s shoulders.

“Maybe we should have taken one more teleportation circle directly to the mine entrance,” he whispered to Vezta. “All the scrying I did and I never thought to scry on the actual village. Maybe we should give them our food and come back with more for the mines?”

“The meager food we carry is intended for eight gorgon and one human. All we would accomplish is starting a riot as the have-nots attack those who would receive our gift.”

“Then—”

“Fortress Al-Mir’s hatchery is far too small to support a population of this size. While it is possible to expand, it wouldn’t be up and running for some time. We only have a few days before the inquisitors arrive. If you wish to delay…”

“No,” Arkk said, firming his shoulders as took his gaze off the gathering villagers. “But I might ask that Savren send the gorgon away before we leave. That will do more good for the village than a few chickens.”

“A wise decision.”

“I am a little surprised they aren’t trying to attack us.”

“Curiosity and wariness hold them at bay. Curious about our presence and intentions with the food. Wary of me.”

Arkk blinked and glanced to his side.

He started, jolting as he realized Vezta wasn’t just not bothering to hide but actively flaunting her inhuman nature. Outside the comforts and privacy of Fortress Al-Mir, she normally formed proper legs from the mass that made up her body. Not today. A large mass covered the ground underneath her cloak with several tendrils clawing forward. They roiled about, moving in an unnatural undulation that he found difficult to look at and difficult to turn away from at the same time.

He forced himself anyway, focusing his gaze on the far end of the village where the mine entrance was located.

They didn’t make it much further before a trio rushed toward them. A shorter man who reminded him of Baron Freede except this man had clearly had to tighten his belt over the past few months. The way his fine clothes hung loose made Arkk wince, wishing there were more he could do. The other two were here as guards. They were probably militia, gathered up from some of the local miners.

The newcomers stopped a respectful distance away, eyes on Vezta.

“Heard you had a gorgon problem,” Arkk said, deciding to speak first. He didn’t want to waste time while they hummed and hawed over Vezta. “I’m Arkk, the leader of Company Al-Mir. Here to take a look and see what we’re dealing with.”

“A free company? You’re answering our request for help?” The apparent leader of the group sounded like he could hardly believe his ears. He turned his head away from Vezta though couldn’t quite take his eyes off her for another few seconds. Eventually, after blinking several times, he looked at Arkk. “A few adventurers came by a month ago… they were the only ones.”

“I assume they weren’t very effective.”

“Didn’t come back.”

Arkk nodded, expecting that answer. “Well, I can’t promise anything.”

“I… understand. We didn’t think…” The man looked around, loose skin trailing just behind the rest of his face as he met the eyes of the villagers. “The poultry you have, is that—”

“For the gorgon. Not something you would want to eat. Trust me.”

“Poisoned?” he asked with a frown. A few of the crowd let out despairing moans at hearing that. Some even started wandering away. “We tried that in the early days. The damn snakes can smell it or something. They didn’t touch anything we left out for them.”

“Not exactly poison, but…” Arkk considered. “I guess we’ll see if it works.”

The man shrugged, then turned away from Arkk. “I am Geno. Baron of Silver City. The mine is just this way,” he said, motioning before walking. “The gorgon only come out at night. We can approach without harm during the day. Stepping even a single foot inside is… perilous.”

Arkk had already seen the results. There were five or six statues just inside. He had seen it during his scrying. “I notice you don’t have any walls,” Arkk said as he walked alongside the older man. “Is the silver not a valuable target for bandits and raiders?”

Geno smiled and raised an arm to the mountain. “The steep natural walls protect us here. burgs Meddale and Stirling Waters block the way through the valley, protecting us from that side. No problem we couldn’t deal with ever reached our town.” He paused and looked back. “Until the gorgon.”

“The burgs can’t help with the food situation?”

“Some of our people already fled to them, putting a strain on their resources. They still helped out… until a few weeks ago. The…” The Baron wrung his hands, shooting a look around. “Duke Woldair’s taxmen collected their due. There isn’t enough left for all of us. I don’t know how we’re going to get through the winter, even if you do get rid of the gorgon.”

Arkk’s hand clenched into tight fists around the handles of the wicker basket he carried. He could hear the creaking under his hands.

“I… I don’t want to say this,” he started, pausing and turning fully. “When the taxmen came here… they took our silver. We can’t offer what we originally posted on the bounty boards.” He held up his hands, fear crossing his face as his mind came up with all kinds of terrible scenarios. “But we can still pay. If the mines are safe, we can start working again. We’ll pay double. It’ll just be over time. If you could just—”

Arkk wished he could hold up a hand of his own to stop the man’s diatribe. Hands busy, all he could do was rudely interrupt. “Why don’t we see if we can clear out the mines before we worry about payment? No sense getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Oh.” Geno looked surprised for a moment. His shoulders slumped after. “Oh.”

Not sure what part of that the Baron was worried about, Arkk simply kept walking, moving past the older man. “Probably best if you stay back from here. The mine is just across the creek, isn’t it? We can find it ourselves.”

“I… Good luck.”

“Appreciated,” Arkk said, giving the man a small smile as he and Vezta started up the worn path to the mine. Turning to Vezta, he asked, “Thoughts?”

“The man must be desperate if he is ignoring me.”

“Doesn’t want to question his good fortune at having someone show up.”

“I think he is nervous about what you’ll ask for if you do manage to clear out the mines. The way he reacted makes me think he believes you will ask for the whole village. Maybe you should.”

“What would I do with a whole village? I’ve already got the fortress.”

“You wouldn’t be able to claim the territory at this time, not officially, but the people would still be yours. The [HEART]’s power increases with every minion added. My former master counted a hundred thousand as his minions and the magic he could wield would put the lightning spell that impressed you so to shame.”

“I still don’t know what I would do with the village. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

“If that is your desire.”

“For now at least,” Arkk mumbled, thinking about it more. Maybe being the baron of a village would get him in the good graces of the Duke. At least enough to get him in the door to see Alya.

He shook his head.

“We’re here,” he said, slowing to a stop as the path leveled out. A short distance away, a gaping hole in the mountainside opened up, supported with thick wooden beams. He didn’t see any movement around the entrance, which was probably a good thing.

Setting down the basket of food, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick strip of cloth. Wrapping it around his eyes and pulling it tight, ensuring not even a little light got in, Arkk shifted his view. While his eyes were blind, he could still see himself and Vezta using the fortress’ power. The perspective wasn’t that great, offering a view of himself from somewhere overhead, but it was better than being turned to stone.

Vezta handed over the chickens she had been carrying. Accepting them was a bit clumsy. As was bending to pick up the basket once again. Taking a few steps, he staggered, feeling like he was going to tip straight over onto his side.

“You should have practiced more.”

“It’s fine,” Arkk said, steadying himself. “It’s as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.”

Vezta shrugged. Her tendrils reached up around her, ripping and tearing through her as they pulled her into Arkk’s shadow. A few glowing yellow eyes appeared in the darkness under his feet before they winked out one by one.

“Remember, eyes closed. If I start panicking, just start attacking everything around me.”

Vezta didn’t respond in her shadow form.

Moving carefully at first, Arkk crossed the rest of the way to the mouth of the mine. Through his Keeper vision, he spotted the statues standing around the entrance. Five of them, all looking inward yet frozen with fear on their faces. They had been there ever since the first time he had scried on the mines. They had likely been left in place as a warning to anyone else approaching.

Quite an effective warning.

The Baron had said that anyone stepping inside would be attacked. He had already guessed that would be the case. There was always one gorgon on watch at the entrance. Usually the smallest one, though they did rotate through all eight of the snake-like creatures.

Arkk stopped at the threshold.

“Hello,” he called out. “Anyone home?”

Not every beastman could speak or understand human languages. Sometimes, their mouths or throats just weren’t set up for it or they just never were taught in the first place. Those that couldn’t typically stayed on their own, remaining in their communities away from humans and demihumans. Gorgons typically stuck to themselves, but he wasn’t sure if they could speak. Their faces looked humanoid enough, yet snakelike at the same time. It was a bit confusing. Like a cross between a demihuman and a beastman.

He was hoping that Savren could somehow hear through them with his magic, listening to Arkk shouting.

“I’m here in peace with food aplenty,” Arkk said, lowering the basket. The chickens looped over his shoulder were tied together at the legs, leaving them dangling from a string. He shrugged one off and flung it inside. “I know there is a human in there,” he said. “I just want to have a chat with the human down in the lower levels.”

Movement in the shadows beyond the mouth of the mine made him tense, ready to signal Vezta at the first sign of hostility.

Although the creature had black scales, as it slithered forward into the light, it took on an iridescent rainbow barely visible against the dark coloration. Larger, horizontally oriented scales covered its belly and underside. They were a bit of a lighter color, though still dark enough to mesh well with the rest of its body.

It had a wide hood spread out behind its head and neck, making it look wider than it really was. A normal snake might not have much distinction between its neck and the rest of its body. Gorgon, however, were partially humanoid. They had shoulders and arms and four-fingered hands.

The human-snake face lost all illusion of humanity the moment it opened its mouth. It let out a long hissing noise as its dark tongue snapped out, tasting the air.

Arkk kept his feet planted where they were, trying not to shake as it drew itself up until it was a full three heads taller than him. The smallest of the gorgon would tower over an orc like that. He was glad they didn’t have one of the larger ones guarding the entrance. It was still far enough away that Vezta couldn’t attack it. Unless he had severely misunderstood how gorgon petrification worked, it couldn’t attack him either.

That was the only reason he hadn’t turned and run.

“Hello,” he tried again, shrugging off another pair of chickens. These, he just held out. “I come in peace with gifts of food.”

The treatise he had bought from the Darkwood alchemist, Morford, contained only the simplest of concoctions. One of which had been labeled as a Drought of Rest. Arkk had tested a little on himself. It wasn’t a sleeping potion but it did make him calmer and in a state where he could get an easier night’s sleep.

Arkk was hoping the gorgon would be a bit less interested in attacking him with that in their systems.

Assuming they didn’t smell it and view it as poison like the local baron suggested they might.

The gorgon hissed again.

Then it spoke a wispy, hissing speech.

“Leave, human, or join your brotherss and ssissterss in ssilence,” it said, waving toward the statues around the entrance.

“I would love to, believe me,” Arkk said, starting to gain a little confidence. He would much rather talk than fight. It talking was a great sign. Maybe something would go right for once. “I just need to talk to the human here first. If he doesn’t want to come up, I wrote him a note here in this gift basket,” Arkk said, slowly lowering himself to grab the bit of parchment he had written out earlier.

“Human? There iss no human here.”

Arkk blinked behind his blindfold and looked up. He couldn’t see the gorgon through his eyes but the surprised reaction still followed through. “Down on the lower levels. You bring him food once a day while he sits and reads his books. You, the green one, and the orange one visit him most.”

“Vissit?” The snake’s slit-pupil eyes didn’t blink the way a human’s might. The protective shield that winked over them still made it look confused in a very human-like way. “Ssavren demands tribute. He iss the only one I offer food to. There iss no human here.”

“Yes! Savren. He…” Arkk trailed off, frowning as the wheels in his mind turned. Savren was a human. He had seen it through scrying and he had confirmed it through the bounty on the Hope Killer. The wheels clicked into place once Arkk thought a moment longer about the type of magic he specialized in. “He isn’t mind-controlling you. He makes you think he is a gorgon as well.”

“You—”

“This is going to sound weird,” Arkk said, interrupting. He pulled the crystal ball out from his pouch and held it out toward the gorgon. The image in the ball changed as he did so, showing the private quarters Savren had made out of one of the chambers on the lower levels. “Could you look into this and tell me what you see? No tricks. I don’t even have a sword.”

The gorgon slithered closer. Some primal part of Arkk’s mind wanted to run off. He clamped it down and locked his legs in place.

“A human,” the gorgon said, dismissively.

“Does it look familiar at all?”

“You all look the ssame.”

Arkk blinked behind his blindfold again and slowly shook his head. “I meant the room. His surroundings.”

The gorgon stretched its head forward again, peering down into the crystal ball for longer than before. Arkk couldn’t read a single expression on its face but he did note the expression change a few times.

“What iss thiss?”

Arkk was pretty sure it sounded upset. Maybe even angry.

He took a slow step back that the gorgon barely seemed to notice.

The gorgon turned away from him, slithering deeper into the mine without another word.

“Wait, where are you going?” Arkk said, stepping forward once again. He even crossed the threshold of the mine but the gorgon did not turn back as it raced inside. “Wait!”

Vezta extracted herself from his shadow, slowly opening only the eyes on her face as she looked at him. “Master,” she said, “was it your intention to get our spellcaster killed?”

Arkk didn’t entertain her with a response. He grit his teeth, staring after the gorgon as his mind raced to find a way to fix the situation or at least turn it to his advantage.

Gnawing on his lip, he picked up his gifts and stepped forward, moving deeper into the mine.