Spectres & Skin: Exodus by RJ Creed

Author:RJ Creed [Creed, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-06T22:00:00+00:00

I felt a shudder as newfound confidence with the tools filled me.

“Hey, did you just get your first level?” Hrzog asked, and when I confirmed it he gently — actually, it really hurt — punched me in the shoulder in congratulations. “Now you’re just twenty levels away from being near to a professional level! Keep smashing those ingots. You’re welcome to stay here and finish your first dagger. I have to man the shop.”

I looked up to see somebody alternating between searching the ornate sheaths that Hrzog had on display, and glancing with confusion at Moro who sat like a ghostly sentinel by the front door and waited for me.

I took advantage of Hrzog’s kind offer and continued to smash the edges of the iron dagger, my tongue sticking out, until I noticed that my stamina bar was getting dangerously close to 10%, so I set down my tools and wiped my forehead. The dagger was almost done, and though it looked incredibly shoddy in comparison to the dagger at my waist, I was so proud of it. It was one of the coolest things, I thought, that I had achieved during my time here so far.

During my short rest, I noticed that I couldn’t see Hrzog, but I could hear him stomping around on the upper level of the shop and laughing loudly with a customer about some kind of blade that he kept up there.

Now was my chance…

I rubbed my hands firmly on my legs and blew on the sore parts of my palms before stealthily making my way to the corner of the room. It held a large, unhidden trapdoor with a thick handle and rusty hinges. It was a fair guess that this led to the basement. I made sure that he was walking away from the stairs, not towards them, and then I pulled on the handle.

It was locked.

“Dammit dammit dammit,” I hissed as I walked in quiet circles around the shop floor. If I were a key to a basement, where would I be kept?

I searched high and low, cursing under my breath for not being better prepared, until I caught a glimpse of something shining below the counter, and pulled it into my palm. Yes! A small iron key. It was just then that Hrzog came stomping down the stairs, though. I pocketed the cool iron object and sprinted back to my chair and snatched up the tongs.

“You doing alright over there, boy?” he called over to me as he sorted through the sheaths by the door.

“Doing great, Hrzog, thank you,” I called back, gently tapping the ingot with the hammer as I grinned over at him. He nodded, looking satisfied, and then called up to the man upstairs before stomping back up to rejoin him.

Now now now!

I pushed myself out of the chair and jogged to the trapdoor, fumbling with the key a few times before I managed to jam it into the lock and twist it. With a click, the door was unlocked, and I winced, hoping no one had heard it.

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