Fjorgyn: Shifting Sands: Fjorgyn LitRPG Series, #3

By RJ Castiglione

Winter is coming to the Shroud and brings with it conditions Michael's allies cannot withstand. Greenleaf's clan is at risk and must flee south or else suffer death.

Michael's mission for Slanaitheoir's regalia also pulls his friends and him south and away from Brackenvale's safety. With Clifford, Wrane, Ash, and Radha in tow, he ventures into the Abandoned Lands, a vast desert where he must face enemies more dangerous than any he has battled before.

All the while, Ankou Levent's forces out of Elatha expand across Vros like a blight. If Michael fails to stop him, no one, not even his friends in the valley, will be safe.

Michael needs to become stronger. If he does not, all will be lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RJ Castiglione
• Release date: May 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781536538694

RJ Castiglione

RJ Castiglione lived in upstate NY until he moved to Boston in 2002 to attend Boston University. Now a resident of Rhode Island, he works as a technical support engineer and spends his days fixing software issues and writing technical documentation. His evenings and weekends, however, are spent penning short stories or grand novels that span multiple genres and niches spanning speculative fiction, his favorite being LitRPG/Gamelit. He has a passion for writing stories featuring gay leads.  His stories are inspired in part by his interests in gaming and from his travels with his husband and friends.

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Fjorgyn: Shifting Sands

Fjorgyn: Shifting Sands

RJ Castiglione

Copyright © 2016 by RJ Castiglione. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Character Sheet

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Character Sheet

About the Author

LitRPG Group

Gamelit Society

One Last Thing…

1

Amonth passed since our narrow victory in Caor's lair. Even though we won, every time I closed my eyes I saw the demon's icy skin and heard echoes of his maniacal laugh beckoning me to embrace evil. Despite Clifford's arguments, I still felt guilty about screwing up the one job I had: find the amulet, cleanse the amulet, cull the demon, and celebrate a sweet victory. Only in my haste and cockiness, I failed. And everyone almost died. Because of me.

I twiddled the single consolation prize in my fingers, the divine-quality Ring of the Mother that resized itself to fit me perfectly. I now possessed two of the eight pieces of Slanaitheoir's Regalia and knew I needed to find the rest of the set before I faced Ankou Levent and his slaver army.

My wolf's soft growl drew my attention away from the ring. The creature I now just called Wolf, rose to his feet and whimpered at me. Waving him off and mentally instructing him to leave the kitchen, I slipped the ring back on my finger and got to work on another mystery concoction cooked from the mound of stinging bracken harvested a few days before.

So far, brewing a potent health poison proved so easy a newb could do it: Steep the plant in any hot water and strain through a cheesecloth wrapped around tree moss, careful to wear gloves the entire time to avoid being burned by the plant’s toxin. I pushed away a box filled to the brim with full vials of the poison. It waited for Radha to claim it. She requested the poisons a few days ago, and was excited to begin forging new arrowheads infused with the mixture for added damage bonuses.

Across the table, another box contained vials that could be thrown at an enemy to cause incineration damage. Those belonged to Wrane, who needed a way to attack from a distance. She could throw a vial with pinpoint accuracy where she previously failed to grasp the skill necessary to handle a bow and arrow. Crafting the firebombs was easy as well. Rather than steeping the entire plant, one had to stroke it to reveal the poison-delivering spines hidden in the leaves, grip them with tweezers, and yank them out. Absent the sharp spines, the plant's burning abilities became more contained. The same preparation (filtering a tea through tree moss) formed a decent firebomb.

Jenny, the manor's head cook and now an earnest friend, nearly banished me from her kitchen when she discovered me testing the mixture in her sink. She had every right to be angry. Over a month ago I promised we would prioritize constructing a healer's hut where we could brew to our hearts’ content, but other tasks and demands required our immediate attention and the keep had not yet hit level 5. Clifford and I still needed to find time to run the Vaults to unlock the next level. Reaching level 5 would allow me to construct the building automatically with village points.

But I had an even more important task at hand that required I use her kitchen. I was going to accomplish it if it meant the death of me: to unlock a third property of the painful plant decorating the countertop in front of me.

And so I sat as I had for the last few hours, my ass aching under the pressure of the cold wooden bench beneath me, analyzing the plant for any other secrets it might contain:

Name: Stinging Bracken

Properties: Toxic. Releases sap that causes fire damage.

Herbalism analysis: Potent health poison, Fire potion, ???, ???

Herbalism skill required: 50

Experience told me that the plant had two positive traits to balance out the negative. Most ingredients, even rare ones, always had both positive and negative applications.

What do you think? I asked Vindur. He peeked his head up from his hiding spot in the corner to reveal jowls sticky with fruit juices. A bowl of discarded apple cores and berry stems sat next to him.

I honestly have no clue why you're asking me. You're the master herbalist here. Ask me any question about the spirit world or your quest, and I'd be happy to offer my insight. Until then, I'll waste away here becoming nothing more than a fat house pet.

I dismissed his negative tone and returned to my work. I had already tried everything to discover other uses for the plant. I tried warm water, boiling water, cold water from the well, from the river, and from the ocean. I tried both freshwater and moon water. I even had Wrane bring me some water from their underground source hoping that might work, although I knew stagnant water from caves tended to work best for poisons. I tried dried stinging bracken and freshly picked. I tried just the stems, just the leaves, just the roots, and the leaves without spines (how I discovered the fire potion). For the delivery component, I tried a multitude of easy to find roots and mosses.

Every single time, though, the plant unfurled and released toxic properties despite what I did. Occasionally, I managed a failed potion yielding nothing more than lubrication for the sink trap that Jenny liked to use to unclog the drain.

I leaned away from the counter and balanced myself on the back two legs of the stool, looking up at the ceiling and its lattice-forming beams.

Why don't you try Merrow Song? Vindur suggested.

I nearly lost my balance when he spoke and waved my arms like a maniac until the stool crashed onto all four legs.

I thought about it, but with the plant effectively asleep, how would I coax the mana out?

I don't know, but you tried everything else. What would it hurt?

He was right. I had much to gain and little to lose aside from blowing a cooldown.

After a flurry of activity, I had a few stations set up so I could try multiple attempts at once. Various pots of water and delivery mechanisms (ginseng root and tree moss) stood at the ready, along with my trusty mortar and pestle. Tucking some stray hair behind my ears, I focused on the pile of nettles in front of me. Mumbling the words to the spell, I fed it only a small amount of mana to make sure I didn't put the entire valley to sleep.

While the spell didn't affect me, Vindur conked out like a drunk man after a stag party. The ferns on the table in front of me curled up into a pile of soft discs. Even the dried ferns softened and curled into brittle fiddleheads. I got to work quickly, knowing I only had an hour to make the potions.

I set one spineless fiddlehead in a pot of steaming water to steep before moving onto grinding another sample into a mushy paste. After twenty minutes of scraping and grinding against the stone bowl at the table, I had them all set and ready to heat.

One sample after another yielded no results, although I learned that the stems contained no redeemable qualities. Eliminating possible preparations was an essential part of becoming a master herbalist.

At last, I settled on a final mixture: dried and crushed stinging bracken without spines, mixed in moon water. I poured the mixture into a rudimentary retort sitting on a wire stand, slid a candle under it, and waited for it to steam. The steam collected at the top of the retort and condensed, sliding down the narrow glass tube held to the container by nothing more than dried clay.

At first, a few drops reached the end of the tube and collected at the bottom of a metal cup. Then a steady stream formed until there was very little water remaining. I removed the candle before the heat cracked the glass, soaked in the mixture some fresh tree moss, and got to squeezing through my gloved hand into a tiny flask.

As the final infusion settled, I could tell the results looked promising. Both the health poison and the fire potion had a red hue to it. This, however, looked more like a greenish-blue liquid.

As I squeezed out the last drop, I received a few notifications.

You have created (1) Unknown Potion. Quality: Professional. Class: Rare. Doses: 2. +50xp

---

Your rank in Herbalism has increased from rank 49 to rank 50. You are now a Journeyman Herbalist. All potions and flasks created now have two doses.

Now all I need is a guinea pig, I muttered to myself.

As if by divine providence, Petey walked into the room. He struggled to keep two overstuffed satchels tucked under his arms while the contents inside nearly burst from the seams. As he plunked the heavy bags on the island, he beamed at me.

We're in luck, my lord! He untied the larger of the two bags and a variety of freshly picked herbs toppled out to fill the room with their pungent perfume. He began sorting through and separating the ingredients, tossing out those crushed beyond use.

I wondered about the other bag, but the sharp lines pushing against the fabric told of instruments and flasks needed to continue alchemical work. Folks who took potions for running the Vaults or hunting outside Brackenvale left their empty vials for Petey to wash and recycle.

That's a good haul, I said to the young man. Some of the ingredients he separated were indeed above and beyond standard fare for his usual potion making, including a full stack of lotus flowers and lotus leaves.

So they collected the lotus flower and leaves, but left the seed capsule?

Aye. Cilden was with them and harvested the seed capsules and root systems. He's going to try to farm them for food and potion ingredients in the river.

I nodded at Petey. It was a smart move. All parts of the lotus plant had medicinal applications. The roots made for a suitable delivery component for healing potions and other curatives.

What's that? Petey asked me while pointing at the mysterious vial on the table in front of me.

I shot up from my stool and slid it a few feet away. Good you should ask! You arrived just in time. I have another sample for you to try.

He groaned and clenched his stomach. Not again. I'm still recovering from your last experiment. I swear it burned a hole in my stomach.

Nonsense. You have no permanent debuff. Anyhow, this one's different. I'm very confident it's not a poison.

Then why don't you try it?

Well, I can't exactly observe the effects on myself. That wouldn't be scientific. Now come on! Drink it down. I handed the glass vial to Petey. And only drink half of it. There are two doses in there.

The young man hesitated as he uncorked the solution. He raised it up to eye level and squinted through the blue-green mixture. At last, he plugged his nose and tipped the vial into his mouth, letting half the fluid pour down his throat.

He corked it again and set the glass down on the table, waiting for the mixture to take effect. After a few moments of nothing happening, he looked at me with relief written on his face.

Do you have any buffs?

"Just one, but it's strange. Fire protection: 1 hour."

Not just generic fire damage reduction?

He shook his head. Can I go now?

Not yet, I said as I worked my way around the kitchen. I needed to test the potion to determine what the buff meant. I grabbed some tongs near the hearth, pinched out a hot ember from the fire and carefully carried it around the island.

Go ahead, I motioned to Petey, take it.

I don't want to.

Please? If it burns you, we're certainly more than capable of healing the pain without any scarring.

Not in my hand, then. Press it into my arm. He rolled up his sleeve to expose his bare shoulder and looked at me with a quiet determination as if he had to prove himself.

I sighed and dropped the ember into a nearby bucket of water. The ember is too much.

The young man's shoulders relaxed. Still, we have to test it out. Why not just a simple flame? A candle?

Before I could object, he held his hand over a still-burning candle next to the retort. But before the flame even licked his skin, he began to transform, starting first at his palm, then up his arms and neck. His skin hardened and turned the texture and color of rock and he strained to pull his hand away from the flame.

This isn't going to be fun, he said just as the stoneskin effect hardened his chin.

I reached for the candle and slid it out from under his hand. Absent a catalyst, the active effect slowed to a halt, leaving Petey standing there with the right side of his body from his chin to his knee encased in stone.

Wha ushe ish hish? he mumbled, unable to move his chin enough to form most of the letters.

I bit my lower lip, trying my best to avoid laughing at him. Well, I suppose it's a good way to save yourself from dying in a fire. A laugh escaped me.

Hish ish yat hunny!

I covered my face to bury my laughter. You're right. It's not funny, I mumbled through my hands.

I heard a crash at the door and peeked through my fingers to see an angry Jenny fuming in the entryway.

What in Balama's name are you two are doing in my kitchen?!

She gasped at the sight of Petey half-encased in stone. Well, you’ve certainly outdone yourselves this time! Bunch of children!

Wolf trailed in after her and began barking at Petey who used his good arm and leg to pull himself closer to me.

Hah wong hish honna washt? He began to teeter to one side.

I caught him in time to stand him upright. Not long, I said as I focused on him and mumbled the words for Cleanse. Three seconds later, the spell took hold over Petey and the stone effect began to shrink. Slate skin gave way to his usual, healthy coloring. Moments later, the potion's effects abated. I picked up the vial from the table and examined it again:

Stoneshell Fire Potion. Quality: Professional. Class: Rare. Doses: 1. Turns imbiber to stone upon taking sustaining fire damage. Duration: 1 hour. Can be cleansed.

My lord, you need to find yourself a new test subject.

But you're so good at it, Petey! I clapped him on the shoulder and looked him in the eyes. You know I would never give you anything that could permanently harm you, right?

The young man smiled and nodded. He straightened his back some, inflating himself with a little confidence over my considering his safety.

A crash on the other side of the room drew our attention. Wolf had knocked over the water bucket, trying to sneak by Jenny.

No! That's it! All of you, out of my kitchen!

Don't you want us to clean up?

No. Every time you try to 'clean up,' her voice dripped with sarcasm, I end up having to do it all over again.

All right, but wear some gloves. The nettles will burn your skin.

Of course they will! She grabbed a clean apron from a hook on the wall and slipped it over her head. It's no wonder we haven't killed half the keep with you two mucking about in the kitchen with all sorts of toxic plants lying around. Now clear off!

She grabbed a broom and moved to push Wolf out of the room. He bit at the straw and engaged in a playful game of tug-o-war.

Out! All of you. And you too, Vindur! Don't think I didn't notice you eating all my fruit.

I rubbed the back of my head and nodded at a now wide awake Vindur, the effects of Merrow Song having worn off a few minutes prior. I shot Wolf a mental instruction and he let go of the broom, sending Jenny stumbling backward toward us.

I caught her in my arms and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and smiled.

Thank you for putting up with us, Jenny. We'll get out of your hair.

She eased off some and crossed her arms, pleased that she won this time. The four of us vacated her kitchen, Petey heading into the war room in the back. Wolf, Vindur and I made our way out of the manor.

Make yourself invisible to others, I instructed Vindur who trailed behind me. I pulled a hood over my head, hoping it would be enough to hide my identity.

As I crossed the gathering hall I dismissed Wolf before stepping outside, knowing that he would undoubtedly give me away. Once outside, the day's brightness overwhelmed me. I squeezed my eyes shut repeatedly until they better adjusted. Aside from some men and women drawing water from the central well, no one was in sight. Most were off tending to daily activities, running the Vaults, or working on one project or another to improve their quality of life. Piles of hewn wood lay scattered around the main square waiting to be formed into trade stalls to serve the people and to circulate coin. The sounds of a fiddle tickled my ears. I was glad that some villagers were able to find leisure time.

Life, it would seem, progressed around me without much need for me to lead at all. Nila oversaw most of the work and asked for input only for the most mundane decisions, despite knowing what my answer might be, leaving me nothing to do but craft potions. I decided I’d had enough with Herbalism. Ankou Levent surely wasn't sitting idle waiting for us to make the next move and our location wasn't going to remain a secret forever.

I worked my way around the well to avoid drawing any attention. None of the villagers paid me any notice. I was able to skirt around them, and made my way down the cobblestone path leading out of the keep. As I breached the gates, I spotted Cilden in the fields working with twenty or so farmhands. From the looks of things, they were nearly ready for the first harvest. My mood brightened, thinking about the upcoming planned harvest festival.

At the previous council meeting, Neeta burst through the door to demand one.

It's tradition! she yelped. Please, please, please, please, please? She wouldn't stop asking until we agreed, making way for Brackenvale Keep's first public celebration since our arrival two months prior.

I crossed the bridge and banked to the right toward the ocean, eager to catch up to Clifford and Nila who had earlier set out to Magheim's Expanse to broker a trade agreement with Klandar.

Do you want me to go with you? Vindur asked. I stopped in my tracks and extended an arm to him. He scurried his lemur body up my arm and wrapped his tail around my neck.

Yes. I'm done with our little vacation away from the world, I said. We need more allies. And we need to find the rest of the regalia.

About time, he said. You've nearly gone domestic.

I dropped my shoulder in response to his half-hearted insult, and he almost fell to the ground but managed to stay put by grabbing my hair. I instinctively pulled away from him, offering him leverage to regain his balance.

Serves you right, he muttered. Are you sure you don't want me to turn into a crow? I can always fly overhead.

Yes, and dig your talons into me every time you decide to perch? No thanks.

Vindur almost fell a second time as I reached the treeline and began a steady run. My hood fell back and my cloak waved behind me, slowing me down. I untied the knot around my neck to let it float away, landing gently in a nearby bush where it would remain until I returned.

I was glad for one thing: Brackenvale Keep didn’t house any thieves to take advantage of discarded items. And Clifford had Rose embroider my initials on the inside collar after he discovered my habit of dropping it wherever I felt the need.

The forest swallowed me in its ethereal embrace. Since our arrival at Brackenvale the seasons had turned and the typical green leaves transformed into a combination of azure and lavender, a constant reminder that I was no longer on Earth. No. Despite many things in common, Fjorgyn possessed a unique beauty that I sometimes wished Earth had.

As I pressed forward, I heard echoes of children laughing in the woods around me. A gentle mist suspended in the air amplified their voices, making them sound less like kids and more like trickster spirits, fairies or pixies or, heaven forbid, kobolds.

I tried to keep my distance as I dashed through the forest. Last time I ran into a pack of village children they demanded my attention for hours, before I was able to slip away after suggesting an impromptu game of hide-and-seek.

An hour later, I reached the shore and collapsed to my knees, winded and low on stamina.

Congratulations! You have reached rank 32 in Athleticism.

Dismissing my alert, I retrieved a flask of water and swallowed it down. I despised warm drinking water, recalling how much I missed a tall glass of ice water after exercising. I hoped to add a frost spell to my arsenal in the future, if only for chilling liquids.

With renewed energy, I found a second wind and rose to my feet to move further south toward Clifford and Nila. I discarded my shoes and packed them away carefully, preferring the gritty feeling of the black sand beach over the rough insoles of my leather boots. That and the shoes desperately needed to be aired out after being ripened by my long run through the woods. If only I were this fit when I was a human, things might have turned out very differently for me.

I allowed the warm ocean waves to wash over my feet as I trekked further south. The salty water rinsed residual sand off my feet only for the beach to replace it with black mud between my toes. The bottom of my pants became saturated with water and, after a few seconds, cooled my ankles and calves.

In the distance I spotted Baridorne, some guards, and some villagers fishing off an outcropping of rock, their catches being held in large buckets ready to be carried back alive and wriggling to Brackenvale Keep. Baridorne waved at me.

He met me halfway down the beach, shaking his feet and cursing as dry