Framework of the Frontier by Sain Artwell (classic books for 11 year olds txt) 📗

hell. Wish I’d lashed out like that and taken risks to prove it to them like you did.” He sighed, staring at the dive of a bird from the cliff to the waves. “Could’ve had a different life.”

Ember gave his arm a supportive pat-pat. ”Don’t feel bad. Even if you quit school early, you learned some magic and abilities which will stick with you for a lifetime.”

”Haha! The amazing magic of efficient web design, color theory, and image editing software.” He was glad to see his chuckle spark a cheer in Ember’s eyes again. It was a cute smile, of which he wanted more. “Well, guess I learned to appreciate good colors. Those clothes match with your hair. Navy blue, white, and gold are a classy combination.”

She pulled her scarf up to hide a huge smug grin. “Ah-ha-ha… Thank you.”

“That’s the scarf I used as a skirt. Oh, damn. Sorry, I should’ve washed it before returning it. It must stink.”

“No. It’s good. You smell nice.” Ember’s eyes widened as her face turned tomato. She pulled the scarf over her eyes. “I- ah-ha-ha. I mean… Ugh. Forget what I said please.”

“I can try but no promises.” William failed to hide his grin. His ears burned too and it wasn’t the sunburn.

Ember was crazy hot and adorable from the way her brows were slanted into a small pout to her big tufty tail and flustering reactions. Best of all, she was interested in him. The girl made him feel butterflies and a bucket load of emotions, which he had thought that porn and years of disappointments had jaded him to.

Their chatter drifted to local plant life.

The dirt path soon joined with an ancient stone road flanked by a wall of natural stone on one side and a deep trench on the other. Strange fish-like insects with colorful chitin nibbled algae beneath the blub-blub of the current. Fifteen minutes, and about half an evolutionary debate later, William was paused by the sight of two massive statues the size of the statue of liberty.

Only one of them still stood. Rusty-crimson with a cloak of moss, it resembled an angel draped in her own wings with vine shrouded halo-shaped horns. The other was green with patina. Its decapitated frame leaned against the angel. A large pack of monkeys rested under its armpit.

“Look where you’re going,” hollered Ember from ahead.

William nearly tripped on a root. Down the road was a stone archway carved in the image of the rust angel. The word ‘Nastall’ was painted with bright orange paint in shoddy handwriting.

“Where’s the town?” Ember asked after passing through.

Yeah… This can’t be it.

Before William spread out an area resembling a roofless, aisleless, nearly barren Walmart of pale stone. Okay, not completely barren. The trench turned into a canal inside, carving symmetrical squiggly patterns across the ‘town’ and one square pond in the middle. Scattered throughout stood buildings in conditions varying between ‘I’m Mr. rubble now’ and ‘hurricane survivor’. Hey, at least a couple of them still had a wooden roof. One back-wall of the squared area was collapsed, opening into a view of a nearby beach shielded by a small archipelago.

“Town?” Orien laughed. “There’s the Ranger’s office or what’s left of it.” She pointed at a two story building with a four story tower built against the pedestal of the massive winged statue. Half of the roof had caved in. “And that there’s Rettete’s Fair Exchange, he’s the only vendor within two hundred miles who’s not wanted for piracy, murder, or tax evasion.”

Orien’s finger pointed at a small alcove in the steep cliffs bordering the opening. Stone pipes, structures, and small evergreens sprouted from the rock.

“Damn.” William shook his head in dismay. “Nothing but one shop? Where are the townspeople?”

Trotto tugged the chimera towards Rettete’s shop. “No law, no citizens. I’m sure folks will start crawling back from their camps when they hear there’s a new Ranger in town.”

“Fantastic… Speaking of, any idea what happened to the last one?” William asked.

Orien shrugged. “Nah. That was before I began delving near Nastall.”

“No clue.” Trotto echoed.

“I never thought to ask Lidarein. She might’ve known. It was a while back. People go missing all the time on the Frontier, Rangers included,” Ember said.

“There was gossip around New Ea that she was done in by her former deputy,” said Veren. Eren continued, “And in another it was a delve gone wrong. By now you could make up your own rumor and pay a bard to make it the truth in a month.”

They reached ‘Rettete’s Fair Exchange’. Inside the alcove were several round submarine windows protected by sturdy metal bars. Area around them and the front door was carved into a round kill-zone. Ominous holes faced the center from every direction and suspicious looking seams encircled the spot where a customer would stand. The shop visible behind cracked glass was an unholy hybrid of a pawn-shop and a doomsday prepper’s bunker.

A goblin with messy white dreads granite-like skin and a dimple sprouting — an almost comically large hook nose — stared at them. Behind round spectacles his beady eyes glimmered with suspicion and malicious greed.

“You deal with him, Trotto, I can’t be arsed to deal with that possessed old shrimp.” Orien handed Trotto a jingling pouch. “We’ll set-up camp in the building next to the Ranger’s office.”

“Sure thing, love.”

She and the rest of her band left towards the center of Nastall.

“Trotto, mah boy!” The elderly goblin’s voice was a shriveling out of tune basso. “Glad to see you back. But sad too. You still drag that sea-hag around, why? You could do much better. So much better I say. Young nubile gobbos kill for a man like you. They do.”

Trotto gave him a polite tilt of his head. “That’s a bit rude Rettete, she’ll be my fiance soon.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.