Chapter 887: Chapter 887

Solomon Thorne hefted a massive stone onto his shoulder and took a step forward. One step became two, then three. Four. Before long, he found his rhythm as he climbed the stairs up the tower. With every step, the stone beneath his feet groaned from the weight, but he’d tested it a hundred times already. It would hold, if only barely.

As he climbed, he ignored the sounds of fighting all around him. They’d been inside the Primal Realm for the better part of eight months, and in that time, everyone had progressed by leaps and bounds. Including Solomon, who’d gained almost twenty levels. If he hadn’t, he never could have carried such a heavy burden.

He’d even killed a couple of trolls himself, gaining three of those levels in a single battle. The things could regenerate from just about any wound, but it was hard to heal with a thirty-ton rock on top of you. Or at least that was the idea when Solomon dropped the boulder on the pair of trolls who’d broken through the front lines.

They hadn’t died immediately. Not until that young Sorcerer came by and burned them to a crisp, but Solomon got most of the credit.

Everyone had congratulated him, too. They’d pretended like he was some great hero instead of an everyday Porter. At least for a while. All that had fallen by the wayside when the next attack came. And the next after that.

If he was honest, Solomon had long since lost track of just how many times they’d repelled the trolls. Each wave was stronger than the last, and the defenders had already lost hundreds of people.

The writing was on the wall, as far as he was concerned. They were doomed.

But to Solomon, one place was just as good as any other when it came to dying. He didn’t have some great sob story – not like most other people. His family had miraculously survived the apocalypse, and when he’d relocated to Argos, they’d followed. He had built a good life for them by working for Atticus Ariti, and his son had even followed in his footsteps.

Strong back. Broad shoulders. A real working man. And none of those ridiculous adventuring notions to weigh him down. He had a proper head on his shoulders, so he knew where his priorities were.

Just like his old man.

Of course, when the call went out that the expedition to the Primal Realm needed Porters, young Gideon wanted to answer. He’d been preparing to volunteer when Solomon cut him off, stepping up to join the expedition himself.

Was it a sense of civic duty? A need to help the planet avoid excisement? Or did he just want to keep his son safe? Maybe it was a little of all three. After all, they needed Porters, and there were none better than Solomon Thorne.

The pay helped, too. Gideon had instructions to use that money to expand the business, and he’d gotten a pledge from Ariti himself to assist in any way he could. With any luck, by the time Solomon returned, they’d have a stranglehold on local shipping.

And damn those Teamsters who believed a man needed a wagon to move a load. Solomon knew the truth. A man only needed his own two feet, a broad back, and the will to move. That was why everyone knew Porters were better than Teamsters. It was just good sense.

Solomon reached the top of the tower and heaved the boulder into the catapult’s cradle. He didn’t wait for the thing to activate. Instead, he immediately trudged down the stairs and to the pile of stones that had once been one of the fortress’ outbuildings. With a grunt, he grabbed an even larger hunk of stone and repeated the trip.

Vaguely, he was aware that the other two porters were doing the same thing, though they were tasked with supplying different catapults. Along the walls were other siege engines, though those looked like giant crossbows that fired spear-sized bolts at the enemy. One of the alchemists had rigged them to explode on impact, spreading fire through the trolls’ ranks.

At one point, it had been an effective weapon, but the trolls had long since adjusted by simply spreading out. Now, when those bolts hit their targets, they only took out a single enemy. Maybe two, if it was one of the bigger explosions. A waste of resources, as far as Solomon was concerned, but he wasn’t the one in charge, so he kept that to himself.

Three more trips, and the battle waned. It would be another couple of hours – maybe as much as half a day – before they returned. Solomon took that opportunity to sit and rest, pulling a half-eaten sandwich from his pocket. The bread was damp and a bit moldy, but the meat was mostly good.

Swamp snake, he thought.

Food was a problem. Some of the higher levels among the army could go without, and they had. Ever since getting his specialization – Endurance – Solomon only needed to eat a few bites a week to keep going, but others weren’t nearly so lucky. Everywhere he looked, he saw malnourished soldiers.

The poor Farmer had been killed by one of those damned mosquitoes. His garden was still there, but without his influence, the crops were slow to grow and stunted. Still, a few underdeveloped potatoes was better than nothing.

Otherwise, they survived off rations that had long since gone bad and whatever the Explorers and Rangers could find out in the swamp. Alligator and snake meat, usually, but every now and again, they’d get spider. Not much ruffage, though. Very few vegetables.

It was better than nothing, and Solomon was grateful for what they had. It could’ve been a lot worse. And besides, he wasn’t much of a complainer.

He took another bite of his sandwich, forcing the slightly off meat down. As he sat there, his massive forearms on his knees, he watched the soldiers descend from the walls. Each and every one of them was covered in blood and troll fur. As they abandoned the walls, another group of slightly better rested men and woman took their place.

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Meanwhile, the elites – people like that kid on the deer or the one-armed cowboy – helped where they could. At one point, Solomon might’ve pitched in, but he knew his job. And there wasn’t anyone else who could do it. He didn’t get any relief. Anytime there was a battle, he would tote his boulders into place.

He forgot when he’d last slept. An hour of shuteye a few weeks before seemed like the right answer to that question, but it had all begun to blend together.

“Sittin’ down on the job, eh?” came a familiar voice.

Solomon didn’t even look up. “Just a little break. Nothing wrong with that,” he said as someone thumped down beside him.

“You gonna eat the rest of that?”

Solomon just handed it over. Finally, he glanced at Kurik as the dwarf scarfed the rest of the sandwich down. “Hits the spot,” he said, patting his stomach.

Like most of the army, the dwarf had lost quite a lot of weight since entering the Primal Realm. Mostly in his stomach, but his cheeks were a little sunken in as well. A few patches of his beard were missing too, evidence of malnutrition. That bit of sandwich was probably the only thing he’d eaten in a month.

“How did it go?” Solomon asked.

Kurik shrugged. “Same as always on my side,” he said.

Solomon just nodded. Kurik’s side of the fortress was a charnel house of horror. The trolls that attacked from that direction invariably ended up being ripped to shreds by the dwarf’s traps. From what Solomon had learned, Kurik had gained more levels than anyone else in the army, and he was pushing for the top spot. If things kept going the way they were going, he’d get there.

“Still preparing to fall back to the keep?” was Solomon’s next question.

Kurik nodded. “If it comes to that, we’ve already lost.”

“Mmhm,” Solomon murmured in agreement. The keep was as defensible as any other building, but it was a last bastion for a reason. It would never hold for very long.

As the two sat there amidst the rubble, Solomon wondered if they’d all signed up to die. Probably. The initial few months had been extraordinarily successful, which had lulled them all into a false sense of security. Then, the trolls adapted, varrying their tactics, which started a war of attrition the defenders were destined to lose.

Not only were they quickly running out of supplies, but people as well. The casualties were one thing, but every day the soldiers were forced to go without food weakened them. Maybe not much, but enough that, over time, they’d lose at least a little of their efficacy.

And in this kind of fight, that was enough to ensure a loss.

“They’re thinkin’ ‘bout changin’ tactics,” Kurik said, breaking the silence at last. Content orıginally comes from noᴠelfire.net

“Probably smart. We’re losing.”

“Aye, we are. Need ya to come with me,” the dwarf stated, pushing himself off the rock. “New orders.”

Solomon just grunted and followed Kurik across the muddy courtyard. Along the way, a bunch of soldiers nodded in respect. Some for Kurik, but Solomon had to admit that most of that esteem went in his direction. He recognized some of the soldiers from the earliest days. Before the siege weapons had been completed, he’d made himself useful by grabbing the wounded and running them back to where the Healers had set up. He’d saved a few lives like that.

When the higher-ups tried to praise him for it, he’d said that anyone would’ve done the same. He wasn’t special. Just a Porter trying to make himself useful.

Nobody had believed him.

But at least they’d dropped it as time went by. The respect lingered, though. He could live with that.

The interior of the keep wasn’t quite as bare as it had been when they’d first arrived, but it certainly hadn’t been decorated. Not unless barricades and traps were considered decorations.

“Looks like it’s almost ready,” Solomon remarked. “They want to pull back soon, huh?”

“Sooner’n we’d like,” Kurik answered. “Not enough folks to man the walls.”

“That’ll do it,” the Porter responded.

For the rest of the trip through the maze-like hallways went in silence that wasn’t broken until, at last, they reached the great hall. Currently, it was being used as a logistics hub and a command center.

In the center stood a large table, around which the army’s leaders had gathered. There were a few whose names Solomon had never bothered to learn. They were Tacticians, and he was certain they were capable enough in their jobs. But to him, they were just faceless cogs in the machine.

The others, he definitely knew. Sadie Song was the most notable, probably because she’d saved the lives of every single member of the army at one time or another. In Solomon’s case, that had happened only a week after they’d arrived, when she’d swooped in on those golden wings of hers and destroyed a trio of trolls who’d managed to bypass the walls. Everyone else in the army had a similar story.

And that wasn’t even considering that she was the one in charge.

He knew of Ivin as well. The dark elf wasn’t big on articulation, but he’d fought alongside the others often enough to earn everyone’s respect.

But the most popular man at that table was Ron, the Healer. Without him, the army would’ve long since been destroyed. He’d healed everyone there multiple times over.

Vaguely, Solomon recognized the head Explorer – Helen – and the young man who usually rode a white stag into battle. Miguel.

“Got ‘im,” Kurik said, gesturing to Solomon before taking a seat. He kicked his muddy boots up on the table.

“Kurik,” Song chided.

“Boots off the table.”

“But…fine,” he muttered. “Should just go back to my traps.”

“You’re worse than Elijah,” she sighed. Then, she focused on Solomon. “Mr. Thorne. Thank you for coming.”

“Not a problem, miss. What can I do for you?”

“What level are you now?” she asked.

“One-thirty-seven,” he said. “Might get one-thirty-eight soon. Couple of battles, at the most.”

“How far do you think you can go without rest?” she asked.

He shrugged. “However far you need me to go, and carrying whatever you need carried. That’s what being a Porter means.”

“This is a mistake,” Ivin stated. “We have high walls. Strong defenses. We –”

“We’re losin’,” Kurik interrupted. “Slow and sure, but losin’ all the same. We stick to this plan, and we won’t never make it outta here alive. And that’s the truth of it. You know it, same as me. Same as all the rest of us.”

Sadie cut in. “We’re running out of food,” she said. “Water’s short. Every day, things get worse. You’ve seen the same numbers I’ve seen, Ivin.”

“If we send them out there, they die.”

“They’ll never find us,” Helen interjected. “I’ve been moving through that swamp for months, and they never even know I’m there. We can make it.”

“Mind if I ask what we’re talking about?” asked Solomon. He didn’t like feeling like he’d been left out of the loop. If they wanted something from him, then they needed to just ask.

“We want you to grab the treasure and escape,” Sadie answered. “We know where it needs to go, and with Helen’s help, we think you can get there. We’d send someone else, but you’re the only person who can carry it.”

“Alright. When do we leave?” Solomon asked.

“Just like that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not much for strategy, but if you say this thing needs to be done, and I’m the only one that can do it, that’s enough for me. Just point me in the right direction.”

Sadie smiled. “You’re a good man, Mr. Thorne.”

“Just a Porter who wants to do his job, ma’am. Now, where’s this treasure that needs moving?”