Warband

Chapter 18. Goblins and Nightmares.

“What’s saving my life have to do with a stone figurine of a dwarf with a pick?” Silas asked with skepticism.

“This, my dear friend, is a way to call forth a powerful dwarf warrior to fight at your side. Just push five points of mana into this thing, and poof, you got a temporary minion to do your bidding,” Gritvart explained.

“I know there’s magic and all that, but it seems a little far-fetched that this little thing could turn into a dwarf,” Silas said as he held the figurine. Before Gritvart could answer, the System stepped in and identified the item for Silas.

Dwarven Miner Figurine, Tier 0, Rank 3. This figurine can be activated with 5 mana and will summon the described minion for a total of 5 minutes.

“Wait, it looks like the System answered the question for your, Gritvart. This thing is only tier zero, rank three, that doesn’t exactly sound like a powerful warrior, it’s just some miner. That doesn’t exactly scream combat ready,” Silas argued.

“Well, what tier and rank are you, Silas?” Gritvart replied, causing Silas to think about the amount of damage he and Buster could do even at tier zero, rank zero.

“Point taken, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s a thing for mining, not fighting. I don’t want to pull some poor dwarf miner from wherever they come from just to get killed on my behalf,” Silas argued.

“Sure, it’s a miner, but have you ever seen a dwarf? Those boys are tough, and a miner isn’t going to care whether he’s swinging his pick at a vein of ore, or swinging at an orc’s face. As far as getting killed. It’s not a real dwarf, just a mana construct that will disappear when its killed or whenever the summoning timer runs out,” Gritvart advised.

“Fine, I can see it could be useful, but how much are you wanting for it?” Silas asked.

“For the ridiculously low price of five silver, this magical figurine can be yours,” Gritvart offered.

“Too rich for my blood. I was thinking of one silver for something like that. After all, it’s kind of a one-shot deal,” Silas countered.

“No can do, big guy. My cost is higher than that. I wish I could source these figurines for less than a silver. I’ll tell you what, as my first customer, I’ll give you a special deal. Four silver and it’s yours,” Gritvart said. Silas kind of wanted to check out the figurine, and if it did what the System promised, it could make a real difference in a tough fight.

“Three, and that’s all I’ll offer,” Silas said, giving his final offer.

“Fine, you win. Three silver and ten copper for the figurine,” Gritvart conceded. He passed over the coin and placed the figurine in one of the empty grenade pouches on his LBV.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Silas. When you get back, I should have some more new and exciting stuff for you to buy,” Gritvart said.

“Fine, I’ll check out your inventory when I get back,” Silas said before returning to his headquarters. Once inside, he added his new purchases to his loadout, not wanting to risk accidentally bringing any of it home and having it ruined. He felt a bit naked without his weapons when he walked into the portal home.

The battle for the Pit of Bhalkur does not rest while you are in your home world. Return soon and continue your task to prevent another outbreak of vile creatures into your world.

Silas stepped out of the portal and onto the garage floor, standing there for a moment and taking the normalcy of the world around him. The portal was lying in wait, he could feel the power of it and knew at his command, it would reopen for him. For now, he breathed in deep the stale garage air and found it a thousand times better than the humid, heavy air of the magical jungle.

“Well, Buster, should we get some chow?” Silas asked. He was feeling hungry now that they were no longer being sustained by that mana stuff the System used. Looking out the garage windows, Silas could see that it was still late afternoon.

“Huh, time isn’t the same in these two places, is it? I’ll need to record the discrepancy next time I head into the pit,” Silas told himself, making a mental note to ask Gritvart about it, or even check if there was some kind of watch or timekeeping device that the gnome would sell him. By rough estimate, Silas figured that it was at least six or so hours in the pit for every hour that passed out here.

They went back inside, and Silas scavenged in the pantry for a protein bar as he topped off Buster’s dish. Buster went right for the food, as Silas turned on the TV to see what was going on in the world. He was never one for watching too much TV, and never wanted anything to do with the internet, but sitting here watching shows was a comforting sense of normalcy to him, especially after the last few hours.

The shock of returning home from Vietnam in less than a day had been jarring. Now, for this new crazy war he found himself in, Silas only had to step into a portal and appear instantly in his garage. He chuckled to himself as he spied his cane propped up next to the front door.

“At least that mana stuff is making me feel better. How about you Buster, are you feeling okay?” Silas asked. Buster just turned and looked at him before going back to the crunchies in his bowl.

Laying down on the couch with the TV going for company, Silas thought about his return from the last war as he drifted off to sleep. He woke briefly when Buster jumped up and laid across his legs. Pulling an old blanket from the back of the couch, Silas bundled them both up before closing his eyes again.

It was quiet and peaceful until the dreams started. Silas found himself back on that last chopper ride out of Vietnam. They weren’t in the frantic rush at the very end of the war, and that day on the Tan Son Nhut Airfield was trouble free. Their chopper from the firebase landed on the airfield, and then Silas was ushered out among the crowd of other soldiers, sailors, and Marines queueing up for the flight back home.

He took a military transport to the Philippines, then flew commercial through Hawaii and on to California. Less than 24 hours from ambushing a VC patrol, to setting foot at Los Angeles International Airport. It wasn’t long enough to even begin to switch off the combat instincts.

That was the start of many of his problems. Inside the restroom of the airport, a pair of long-haired hippies saw his uniform and spit at him. As one of the men called him a baby killer, Silas threw an elbow into the guy’s nose. It was good he wasn’t armed that day, but he did lose control for a few moments and hurt both the men worse than he would have liked.

Expecting to be arrested at any moment, Silas walked out and hailed a cab. Not sure where to go, Silas pulled out the slip of paper with Doc’s address and that was where he stayed until he and Lisa were married and got their own place. Silas could feel himself settle into the peaceful memories of building a life with his wife.

They had moved to Michigan where Silas had found a good job at the Ford plant where he worked until retirement. He didn’t make a ton of money, but they always had what they needed, if not always what they wanted.

Sadly, his dreams would not grant Silas peace this night. Memories of his time in Vietnam refused to leave him. He lived those worst moments over and over again. He saw his friends die, and this time, it wasn’t just the ones that died in the jungle. This time, he was forced by his own mind to watch those who ended their lives after the war as they failed to find the help they needed and decided that biting a bullet was their only way out of the pain.

It was worse, every single one of the dead turned to him in their last moments, cursing Silas for not helping them. They railed against his failure to keep them safe, as they heaped all the blame upon his shoulders.

After the soldier’s passed, Silas found himself back in of the Montagnard villages that had been destroyed by the VC in retaliation for them helping the US soldiers. Every man, woman, and child in the village had been killed, and an entire village of the dead stood as one and pointed an accusing finger in his direction.

Silas tried to fight off the horror, to bury the memories deep once more, but they refused to leave, and they refused to let him wake from the horror. One image finally broke through the clutter of condemnation. It was Buster, who appeared to stand faithfully by his side as Silas fought against his dreams.

Images of Lisa bringing Buster home as a puppy washed out the hurtful memories, and it was like a weight had lifted off Silas. He laughed through the tears at a gangly puppy trying to fetch a toy that was far too large for him. Silas watched as the small dog ran around their yard, exploring his new home with an excitement that couldn’t be contained.

In the midst of reliving the good times with Lisa and Buster, something pressed against Silas’ mind, pushing out the happy images and bringing back the horror once more. Silas’ mind was flooded with images of Buster sick and dying of old age. These images hurt, but the shock of seeing something that had never happened triggered something in Silas.

This wasn’t just a few bad dreams he was experiencing, no, there was someone, or something else, trying its best to torment him. Silas tried to fight back against the dreams, but he didn’t know how. The presence made itself known, and a figure appeared before Silas. The figure was cloaked in darkness, but bursts of dark flame lit the outline of the hideous being.

The creature said nothing, but Silas could feel its intent. At first it tried to get Silas to worship it, an unspoken promise of freedom from his nightmares, and offers of power if he would but submit to the being’s will. Silas easily pushed aside its offer and found that while this thing could torment his sleep, but it couldn’t compel him to obey.

That was it, this thing was a paper tiger, a force of great evil, but one that could do nothing physically to him in this place. Bad dreams were just that, empty dreams that he would soon wake from.

“Whatever you are, get out of my head!” Silas demanded. The presence left, though it hinted that their encounter would not be the last. Barking pulled Silas from his troubled dreams, completely breaking the link with the thing that tormented him.

“I suppose that was Bhalkur paying me a visit,” Silas said with disgust. Instead of cowing him, or causing him to concede in fear, this creature had triggered Silas’ stubborn nature. He’d get back at that thing, and would see it not just imprisoned again, but destroyed for good, if such a thing was possible.

Another sharp round of barking, and Buster’s weight jumping off Silas’ legs brought him the rest of the way back to reality. There was another sound, someone was pounding on his door. A new realization struck Silas as he moved to answer the door. He was unarmed now, all his weapons except for the grenade launcher locked in the safe were back in the pit, secure in his armory.

If whoever was at the door meant him ill, there were not many options for Silas and Buster to stop them.