Nowâ¦
âJust over this ridge,â Caleb said to himself for the fourth time as he crested another rocky outcropping in his ascent up the ice volcano.
He heaved himself up, pulling himself over the edge, with a grunt.
âCraters,â he cursed.
Above the ridge was more pristine mountain forest, free of the destruction he was searching for.
He lay on his back, closed his eyes and felt the breeze. Despite the chill, the wind buffeting him made Caleb feel at home.
After a minute taking in the wind, feeling as it blew around the contours of his body, he opened his eyes and took in the white band of the planetary ring that dominated the sky. Legends said the ring was once a large circle that floated above the planet, but Caleb didnât believe those stories.
If the small pieces that make up the ring constantly fall, what chance would a large object have of staying up there?
Two days past, heâd seen the telltale signs of a ringfall. While this was a regular occurrence, the falling celestial objects lighting up the night sky, this one was different. The continual ringfalls usually fell on the equator, creating a band of mana-rich death and destruction. But on rare occasions, collisions within the ring sent chunks of magically dense material sailing across the sky.
This was Calebâs quarry. Whether or not the ring used to be a giant circle was immaterial to himâthough heâd argued long and hard against the idea. What he really cared about were the contents of the ring itself.
Ore. Magical ore.
Technically, all ore was magical to some degree, whether it absorbed its magic from the planetâs core or the sun, but that was not a topic Caleb felt prepared to debate. Magic was not his area of expertise and anything that had been near enough to the surface for Caleb to get his hands on it had long since lost its potency. Calling him informed was like saying anyone with a hammer and forge could craft a blade if given enough time. While technically true, practically there was a difference between a random villager with a hammer and a trained blacksmith.
The ring was steeped in magic. As it flew around the planet, it soaked in the light of the sun, and whatever properties led to the magical decay of the ore Caleb had access to below were not present up above. So when Caleb saw by chance the streak of white light that grew and flashed red one night, when he was sneaking back home well past the time anyone sane in the village was awake, he made plans at once to go and retrieve it.
Caleb had recently turned eighteen, and as such was due for his system trial. Whenever a frost dragon was next spotted around his village, he and all the others who reached their majority would set out and slay it, praying to the dead gods that the system would notice them.
He pulled out the hammer he carried with him and rolled it over in his hand.
Status, he thought.
ERROR
ERROR
â¦
Strength 9 (8 + 1)
ERROR
â¦
ERROR
While the system had yet to notice Caleb, it did recognize the hammer he wore at his belt. The simple tool had been crafted by his master from the same metal they crafted all their equipment from, but for reasons unknown, this one had come out with an enchantment recognized by the system. Caleb sought magical ore now to craft his weapon, as he didnât have time for whatever fluke of fate or skill led to the construction of a magical weapon. The hammer granted +1 strength to whoever held it. Their village only had a dozen system-recognized items, and Caleb knew it was a great honor that his master let him use this one.
Well, he told himself it was an honor. The truth was, Caleb was scrawny for a blacksmith. He knew he was the most skilled of all his masterâs apprentices, but for whatever reason, Caleb never bulked up as much as the other smiths. 10 was the average strength of the uninitiated men in the village, with the average amongst the smiths being 12.
The clatter of falling rocks broke Caleb away from his reflections and he banished the screen with a thought. A black meter-long body with a serpentine tail of equal length had fallen down the mountain. Caleb froze, staring at the creature entranced as it struggled to right itself. Its fall had brought enough rocks down with it to partially bury the beast, but whatever it was seemed unaffected by the weight.
After a moment of writhing and struggling, the creature righted itself and then shook like a wet dog to throw the rest away, adding to the dust cloud it had already conjured. The creature paused, lifted its wide head and sniffed at the air.
Caleb held his breath, suddenly afraid heâd been scented. But after a quick sniff, the creature set off in the opposite direction.
Once it was clear he hadnât been spotted, Caleb pulled out the looking glass heâd brought to help find his fallen ore. He turned it on the creature, and studied it.
Could it be? he wondered.
Heâd never seen one before, and never heard of one this smallâlet alone this color.
An iron salamander?
The beasts were a blight upon his homeâa rare one, but they were a special combination of annoying and hard to kill that made each appearance memorable. Normally the creatures were two meters long in body alone, with wide heads and slender rust-colored bodies. As their name would suggest, they looked like giant emaciated versions of the frost salamanders children found in the glacial streams that came down the volcano.
Missing tools and equipment marked the presence of an iron salamander. The creatures snuck into villages under cover of night and ate anything metal they could findânot confining themselves to the iron of their name. Attempts to fight them inevitably led to grievous injuries, as their skin was literally iron and they could spit molten slag at attackers. But fighting them wasnât necessary when one could lay a trap. A few iron bars in a pit near the river was enough to lure one in. Once caught, a trench connecting the hole to the river quickly saw the beasts drowning.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
As annoying as the creatures were, their corpses provided a great deal of metalsâthough the bodies had to go through a few rounds of smelting to separate all the different types within them.
The one Caleb saw now, however, was smaller than any Caleb had heard of, and instead of rust orange, it had the dull black of steel quenched from the forge.
Maybe⦠Caleb considered.
The iron salamanders were a nuisance for sure, but they knew how to find metals. Maybe this creature sought what he was after.
As quietly as he could, Caleb followed after the creature, wincing internally every time his foot scuffed the ground. Keliaâs chastisements for his poor woodcraft echoed in his mind. Despite the subject of the thoughts, thinking of Kelia still made Caleb smile.
He hoped to make a magic weapon before his initialization on the off chance heâd be offered a crafting class. It used to be that the system granted any kid who sharpened a knife a smithing class, or so it was said by the same crazy people who thought they once had a âmoon.â Caleb was skeptical. While he believed the system used to be omniscientâthe evidence of that was too hard to ignoreâhe couldnât believe an inexperienced child could become a system-recognized crafter.
Not that Caleb had high hopes heâd be one. He was good, great even, but that wasnât enough. He needed the right prerequisites, and a lot of luck.
As he followed the iron salamander through the rocky mountain forest, he thought over his hopes for the future. It quickly became clear the creature was either deaf or oblivious to Calebâs stalking.
Caleb, if he was lucky, would gain a Frost Dragon Hunter class. Even having that uncommon class as an option to consider was something most boys his age would kill for. Of the initiated individuals in the village, twenty-nine were Frost Dragon Hunters. The other seven were common Laborers with one being an uncommon Healer.
His village was special. They knew the secret prerequisites to unlock the uncommon class, and whether it was due to their heritage or their location, the villagers were regularly initiated. âRegularlyâ being a relative term. Over five thousand people lived in the mountain logging village of Trisken, and of those there were only thirty-seven initiated.
There was a long list of actions the village elders ensured every villager did to ensure the Frost Dragon Hunter class was offered upon the slaying of a frost dragon. Some of the items, such as the final task of killing the dragon itself, were obvious prerequisites, but others such as eating a raw goatâs heart were less certain. No one, however, was willing to risk being wrong, so as they found commonalities in life experiences amongst Frost Dragon Hunters, the list grew.
The goat heart thing was a very, very, old item on the list.
The key to the villageâs high number of initiated was the frost dragons. For whatever reason, killing a frost dragon after turning eighteenâbut before turning nineteenâhad extremely high chances of garnering the systemâs attention, at which point any classes you met the prerequisites for would be offered.
Caleb had long since completed the whole list for the uncommon Frost Dragon Hunter class, from the weird stuff to the practical such as gaining proficiency in arms. Heâd even done all the ones suspected to be prerequisites for the common Blacksmith class. The only thing he had left to do was craft a system-recognized itemâhence his ill-advised jaunt through the mountains.
The iron salamander began its search uncertainly, but as it moved it caught the scent and started to run with an awkward lope. Caleb had to run to keep up, but the noise of the small metal-clad creature barreling through the mountain scree more than covered any sound he could make. Eventually Caleb too caught the scent of something.
Smoke.
When morning had dawned after he spotted the ringfall, a trail of smoke had been visible in the distance. Probably from the impact site. That had been Calebâs target, but it had quickly burned itself outâor so he had assumed.
As he ran through the sparse mountain pine, he saw the truth. Something had put the flames out. Up ahead the forest was destroyed. The tops of four pines lay strewn about. The celestial object had ripped them off in its descent and landed on the rocky floor, creating an impact crater three meters across, toppling two more trees that had the misfortune of sprouting in that particular spot.
All six of the devastated trees in question showed signs of burning, along with all the trees around them, but they were also all covered in shards of ice.
Frost Dragon! Caleb realized.
The creatures hated fire. To lure them out, all his village had to do was go up into the foothills and start a bonfire.
Caleb reached for his spear, and then remembered heâd left it at the bottom of the second ridge heâd climbed, nestled under an outcropping with the head wrapped in an oilcloth.
Many would call travelling up a frost dragon-infested mountain in search of a fire stupid. Others would say leaving behind their primary weapon for fighting dragons was insane.
Those people would be right, and Caleb had no argument against them.
He was freed from his sudden moment of clarity by the horrible squelch of metal scraping along stone. At first, his mind couldnât place the sound, but then he heard the crack of breaking rock, and his mind caught up.
âNo!â he shouted, and ran up the craterâs rim.
Below, he saw the giant salamander beast chewing on a hunk of glowing blue rock. As he watched, the creature threw its head back, chewing as it tried to get the too-large chunk to fit in its mouth. It managed eventually, and it sat back on its hindquarters and chewed, producing the horrible screech of metal on rocks once more, broken up with the cracking of crumbling magical ore.
âStop!â Caleb screamed, scrambling down the craterâs wall before he could think better of it.
The salamander tilted its head to the side, examining the mad person running closer as it continued to chew its treat.
Caleb partially came to his senses before attacking the iron salamander and instead went for the blue ore he was after. The salamander had broken the melon-sized chunk into a few jagged fist-sized lumps, one of which it was mostly done eating. Caleb grabbed two, one in each hand, and continued up the other side of the crater, leaving one piece behind.
The inquisitive look of the salamander faded, and it let out a low rumbling growl. Four hornlike protrusions rose menacingly out of its head as it got to all fours and advanced on Caleb slowly. At the top of the crater, Caleb hastily shoved the ore fragments into a sack hanging from his belt, brought for the purpose, and drew his hammer.
It wasnât a weapon, but it was meant for hammering steel, so it would have to do. Heâd heard horror stories of battles against these monsters before, but this one was so small he held out a bit of hope.
He braced for the monsterâs attack, but it didnât come. The iron salamander tried to chase him up the crater wall, but the rocks broke and crumbled beneath its weight, and it fell back down the crater on its back. It didnât give up, however, growling once more with its low rumbly voice. It charged up again, jumping this time, only to repeat the fall from before.
This time it stopped, looked up at Caleb, and began to whine like a dog begging for scraps.
âThis canât be real,â Caleb said, lowering his hammer.
The salamander recognized the motion, and its horns, once menacing, perked up in anticipation.
âYou canât have this ore,â he told the beast firmly.
As if his words reminded it of the ore, its eyes grew wide, and it turned to the remaining fragment and resumed its chomping.
âThat⦠might have been my fault,â Caleb admitted, though the idea that the creature could understand him was absurd.
Caleb felt himself dying a bit inside as he saw this iron animal eating a priceless treasure. After it finished, it looked up at him again and resumed its whining.
âI canât believe Iâm doing this,â Caleb sighed to himself as he pulled out his rucksack.
The creature perked up at Calebâs movements but then deflated when he didnât reach for the bag at his hip. Caleb instead pulled out a knife. Heâd been making it for Kelia as an engagement gift before his brother got wind and told him he was an idiotâsomething he now recognized as being true. It wasnât that Kelia wouldnât have appreciated the knife, but he admitted it was far from romantic. The blade was not at all complete, and he wasnât sure why heâd thrown it in his bag as heâd quickly packed the night of the ringfall, but it was good steel, and iron salamanders loved good steel.
He threw the half-formed chunk of metal down the crater, and the creature looked at it for a second, then looked back at Caleb, whining growing more intense.
âHave a good life,â Caleb said, and turned to leave.
The whining grew louder, and Caleb stopped just out of sight to listen. After a few more attempts to manipulate Caleb, the creature gave up with a huff, and he heard it eat the blade heâd thrown.
The wind shifted subtly, and moving on some small instinct, Caleb spun around to see a great blue-white form swooping down on him. He took a step back, stumbled and tripped. His head struck the rocky ground and the world went black.