Grit, Volume #1: GRIT, #1

By Landon Cook

Olv had worked at the local mine to keep a roof over his head. Unfortunately, his efforts were all in vain. The demon lords invaded his world with their army taking over his world and capturing his people. He will have to find a new way to survive in this world and contain what remaining sanity he still holds... 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Landon Cook
• Release date: May 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201833572

Book preview

When the lungs of life inhaled the universe, two worlds were created by our God’s lips. One was named Rolfida, and the other—was Voncressa. Both worlds contained a separate species. For them to meet one another, they will have to go through the anomaly known as ‘The door of Transfer.’ Though it may seem incredible, this came with a terrible cost.

They would rage wars to gain control of each other's land for reasons they found suitable to their dogma. I found it strange how parts of history when peace had been established...

Even so, our god ‘Sleeper’ has watched over us with his watchful eye looming over the sky. So why he watches us suffer through the many tragedies of our existence? For this reason, my people had to strive and maintain our lives in any way we could.

I say to them: If one wishes for a miracle. They must construct it from their own making.

Let it be told—let it be said...

-The personal observations from Phader Talios

Chapter 1: The Worker’s Routine

Pickaxes swing in a constant rhythm as the lanterns dim—craving a single drip of oil. The miners work themselves to the bone, hoping to fill their sacks plentiful with ore. One of them was lucky in this repetitive routine. An older scruffy man with a dirt-stained mop for facial features, his tainted tunic reeks of a foul smell reminiscent of mold. The only pleasant thing you could say about this man is that his wide smirk could charm a mouse to his presence. He cautiously walks through the mine, carrying two sacs over his shoulders, avoiding the pickaxes in motion. As he ventured to the lower sections of the mineshaft, the number of holes caught his wandering eye like a strange tik. The boy—is an amateur...

A lantern glows at the unfinished intersection; no miner is to be seen or heard. Then, turning to the right, he sees a young man asleep with his back against the wall and his head pointed at his lap. He had long-ragged brown hair, rags needing washing, and mutilated leather boots with holes ready to expand further. Olv! The old man yelled.

Startled, the young man wakes back into reality, Garson? I was in a better place, he mumbled.

Garson’s saggy eyes squinted, ...Better place? he grunted with a hint of laughter, Have you collected enough ore yet? ...The Tax collector will come around this week to collect our earnings for the king of Rolfida. Olv almost fell back asleep board of his words....You have nothing?

Olv glanced at his recent attempt, ...I haven't been lucky, he sighed.   

Garson settled his bags and lost his eagerness to boast, Lucky? You shit stain runts think luck is everything nowadays! What you should have been doing is using your basic human senses, he pressed his body against the rock wall, sniffing, knocking it with his dirty fists, Do you see what I mean?              

Olv’s eyes squinted in confusion and discomfort, I see you still have useless information to give.

Garson swung his arms, You will lose your shack of a home unless you figure this out!

You’re right... he looked around, I guess crashing here in the mines will do, Olv shrugged as he mockingly got comfortable.           

Garson laughed, You might as well let the damn wyverns eat you!    

Olv thought about his flesh being pricked off by those monsters, ...Any chance you can share your earnings? he said with an unconvincing smile.          

And let you become a full-time beggar? No... try to put a few more swings in and see if you get...lucky. he turned, Maybe you will find gold! Ha-ha!        

Pfft... bastard... Olv sighed.

He rose from the stone ground, brushing the coal dust from his mantle. He thinks: I have been at this for a month since I moved from the capital. My efforts working in mine have strained me. It's a shame I have nothing to show for it...

The sun burnished its blinding light downwards at the four guards who lazily stationed themselves outside from the cave entrance. They each wore scratched steel-plated armor with red tunics underneath. Their helmets are bluntly designed to resemble an Ox’s head with horns to complement its round shape. One of them had their visor torn from the base, showing his dense leather face. He slept soundly on his spear, dreaming away as the day faded. The others kept their broadswords tucked within their sheath. They scuffed from the old man’s luxury.

Garson found comfort at a nearby boulder, his hand fiddling with the flint grinder used to spark the dried leaves inside his pipe. When he took in the scenery, his body shivered from the sight: A storm coming from the North East. His stomach turned inside out when he looked higher. Behind the sun was a vast silver ring more comprehensive than the realm, Rolfida. For what horror lay behind it, and why would such a thing exist in this world?

Olv stumbled out from the mine with his pickaxe in hand. He rested near Garson, sinking into the firm grass while the wind brushed against him. Are you afraid of that ring? he asked Garson, who continued to stare into the sky.

Sleeper’s ring? Who isn’t? he puffed.        

Do you think the texts are right about his purpose and desire? Olv asked.   

The writing left by past generations gave us a clear answer of what he expects from us. Pain...Solitude...You’d think we would die in the beginning, but we, humans, have one particular trait that makes us act upon it. He looked over at Olv, Our need for living...

Suddenly, the guard tripped over his spear and gazed at the sky; his body shook with adrenaline! Everyone in the mine, you have ten minutes before we depart back to the village! Ten—minutes!

Garson wrapped the end strings around his hand and lifted his sacks, Well... It's time for—the walk—Gah! his back popped from the awkward posture.        

Garson, are you all right?

No dammit, my back snapped! he used his fist to press against the source, Can, can you take my bags?

Olv hesitated, yea- yeah... Carrying such weight was not a thrilling idea for him. 

Ten minutes had passed sooner than expected. The miners were tucked together, emitting a foul, collaborated stench of sweat and coal. One guard was leading in front of them, one behind, one on the broad left side, and the other on the right.      

The silence was starting to make their bodies quiver with anticipation. What will come out today, I wonder? one of the miners said.             

Wolves, I bet, Garson said.        

Perhaps those disgusting monsters from Voncressa! You never know if those rats crawled out from the cracks! the other miner said sarcastically, holding his misshapen belly.

...Gramnorians, Garson said as he grated his teeth.

Olv noticed the abrupt expression on Garson’s face, ...Are you okay?    

You're lucky—to have not been born in those days, he replied coldly.

Olv could only imagine what had happened and wanted to know more about those days. Gramnorians? I have heard stories of the past regarding their recent raiding parties. But I have never seen them; supposedly, their appearances have an uncanny similarity to the beasts of the forest. Our kind had never seen their world ‘Voncressa.’ Well, as far as I know, anyway. The lectures were not thrilling...

Wyverns! The guard yelled. Two Wyverns shrieked as they flew overhead. Their heads were lumpish with rigid beaks. Their skin was scaly and covered with fragments of feathers inside every crevice. Each was a different color that only added to their appearance, one red and the other blue. They landed near the group extending their wings to intimidate the guards; however, this was their line of work.

The guard with the broken visor turned to the other, Horthor, I’m going to pin it down. When I do, strike the beast! he turned back, Floton, Drohlo! Overwhelm the blue one. Keep it occupied! The guards cautiously maneuvered with the wyverns while the miners stayed in place. The guard with the broken visor saw his opening, and quickly, without a wasted second, he plunged his spear through the red wyvern’s wing! It shrieked furiously for one second, then silent the next when Horthor drove his broadsword through its throat!

Floton and Drohlo kept their guard as the wyvern tried to maneuver past them. However, Floton tripped over a tree stump that came out from his blind spot. The blue wyvern took its opening, swiftly jumping over the guards, then snatched one of the miners! Garson quickly reacted to the situation; he jumped and reached with his two hands, pulling the miner away from the monster's grasp! The Wyvern’s strength managed to lift him as well. Olv hesitated as he watched his friend being slowly carried away. Come on, move. I need to help him! But he couldn’t move, his legs frozen in place. Fortunately, the guard with the broken visor retrieved his spear and aimed the wyvern in mid-air. Yelling from the top of his lungs, he plunged hole after hole into its underbelly. The terrifying beast fell to the ground with its entrails splattered along the once-green grass.

Is everyone okay? the guard with the broken visor asked. Everyone either mumbled or gave a solemn ‘Yes.’ Meanwhile, Garson and Olv cared for the miner, who was fortunate enough to escape from the wyvern with only a few scratches.       

The miner shivered uncontrollably, Th-thank you, Garson, for keeping me down... 

Garson rubbed his knuckles against the man’s back, Don't mention it, he said, trying to ease his pain. For a second, all seemed fair until Olv noticed something strange oozing out from under the miner's tunic. Garson caught on as well, lifting the tunic with a quick swipe. The sight was unpleasant to watch: The strange liquid was from the egg that the impact had crushed, and under its many pieces lay the infant wyvern... You bastard! Garson raged out with anger.     

I-I-I just needed the Splid, you know?       

You could have gotten us killed! The guards ran over to see what the commotion was.

Things are ruff with the inflated taxes! the miner explained.    

If you needed the Splid so badly, you might well—join the fishing trips or develop your farm on the side!

What hap... the guard with the broken visor stopped when he noticed the egg. Do you have any idea what you have done? The miner stayed quiet, afraid to utter another word. 

What should we do with him? The other guard asked.

...He will keep his distance from the rest. That way, if any more wyverns show, they will pick him off instead of us... he turned, All right, everyone! Let us move forward! as they went on their way, Olv ground his teeth at the situation. Why is it that wherever I go, situations like this happen? Perhaps these modern standards are pushing us to our limit... He scratched his head.

The oak sign appeared next to the road, ‘The Village of Scradol,’ it read. Unfortunately, this village lacked any natural resources. The trees were chopped for the barricade, which was still under construction, and the dirt roads barely had any tracks due to the lack of supplies to sell. Some townsfolk stayed indoors, while others walked in and out of the tavern in a drunken stupor. When the group made it to town, they headed straight for the blacksmith to pawn off their ore. The troublemaker was not so lucky. He had been taken into custody. 

Garson managed to get enough Splid coins to pay off the income taxes, and he gave Olv a few for helping him carry his loot. 

What a day, I say, The guard with the broken visor said.

Garson turned, Heh... I Agree, he said while scratching his scalp from the multiple bug bites.

Good job out there, Carv! Olv said.

Carv smiled as he removed his helmet, revealing his sizeable bald spot with the remaining long strands dropped over his shoulders, Thank you kindly.  

Garson chuckled at his appearance; they were the same age. Although, he felt happier knowing he still has his hair. I'm surprised you haven’t kicked the bucket yet.

Carv’s eyes widened. Ho-ho, my face might be a prune, but I... Still have my long, he grabbed his spear seductively, Mighty-Stick! Aha! Olv chuckled, and Garson covered his face, embarrassed.

Don’t teach the youngling your sense of humor. He might catch on to it, Garson demanded.  

Carv punched Olv’s shoulder in a joking gesture. Aye! He better. The girls here might find him more interesting!

Garson sighed, Let us clean up and head for the tavern. My stomach is calling for a meal right about now. So they split off from the group and headed home to change. Olv and Garson had their own little homes Carv shared a barracks with the other guards.

The night had arrived, bringing a calm chill, and the moon’s glow brightened at the edge of the sky ring, slowly being covered behind the clouds bringing about the vast haze.  Olv entered the mild tavern, noticing the miners looking as if they were going to drop dead in their chairs from exhaustion. The ones who made any noise were Garson and Carv at the very back. Then, suddenly, a smell caught his attention. The kitchen stirred with a symphony of flames rising and boots tapping back and forth.

Welcome back, Olv! a melodic voice said.

Olv turned to see a woman standing in a particular pose with a perfect smile. She wore brown boots high enough to reach right under the teal folds of her short skirt. Her eyes were green like summer grass; her brunette hair was calm as silk. Her attractive appearance alone could turn this tavern into a bloodbath if the men were not so tired. Olv blushed, too anxious and terrified to move a single inch, I—uh... hey Flora, He stumbled to speak and turned as if controlled by a second mind.

Flora noticed him trembling; her smile turned into an evil smirk, You look overwhelmed from the mine. Olv, maybe you should find a table and rest for a bit. I will be there to serve you soon. Olv stood, entranced by her charm, not knowing what emotion to express, what word to say, or anything of relevance. But he needed to do something. By the time he gathered his wits, he had realized Flora had already left his sight...

Garson poured potato ale from the pitcher into his decorated cup. When he saw Olv making his way over, he raised his cup. Aw! The bastard has made it through without puking this time. Olv could already tell Garson was drunk out of his usual glum self.

Carv laughed, Poor Flora, she didn't even see it coming! Olv cringed as he remembered the day.

Ada- Ta- oh... Oh, man...I remember it like a bowl of soup littered with shit! Garson laughed.

Olv sat on the chair next to him and was engulfed by the smell of alcohol. Are you three ready to order? Flora asked suddenly.

Ah... Po-po-tato soup, Garson sputtered out while trying to keep focused.

Carv chuckled, Same here.

Me too, Olv said.

An hour had passed by while the three had enjoyed their meals. The potato soup had light sprinkles of spicy herbs and delicate hearty meat; the cider was good, even though Garson kept filling his cup, leaving Carv and Olv with a few sips. First, Olv reflected on the recent attack. He considered himself guilty for not acting quickly enough. Then, to remove himself from this internal self-doubt and loathing, to decide to help Garson with his addiction. Garson, I think you had too much ale...maybe you should get some sleep.

Garson looked at him with menacing eyes, You can—not tell me what to—do...I will be fine! He burped, I... am a warrior, he pointed his finger at Olv’s forehead, I have slain... but before he could utter his next word, he passed out on top of the table with a thump.

Carv chuckled at sight. Garson? Olv said as he poked a finger into the man’s shoulder. Why does he do this every week?

Carv’s eye ticked from the question, ...He's—proud, you could say.

Proud of what, mining? 

No, no... Has he ever told you about the early days? 

Olv thought about it for a moment, The only thing we ever talk about is... well, we mostly just grunted at each other. 

I figured... No one has the time to spend with each other; got to keep working, he shifted from the seat and lowered his tone. Garson used to be part of Rolfida's army. He and I were stationed here, keeping the peace. One day, Gramnorain raiders showed up and started pillaging, burning, and raping... Garson put up one hell of a fight against those—giant types. Poor bastard broke his back, trying to hold his ground. But, ultimately, we managed to pull through, and I even got a souvenir out of it...We killed those bastards good.

Olv tried to stop himself from asking, ...souvenir? 

Carv reached under his chest plate, pulling out an object wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it, revealing a long beast-like ear stained with blood at the bottom, This bastard killed a mother; he was about to kill her child, he leaned forward. I whacked his ear cleanly off—with one quick swipe! Olv started to become uncomfortable. 

Are you boys finished? Flora said, glancing at the ear; the sight caused