Arthur Daigle's Blog, page 6
August 14, 2019
Doubtful Allies part 1
This is part 1 of Doubtful Allies:
“How about Buttercup?” Dana Illwind asked Jayden. She saw his frown through his scarf, hat and thick coat with upturned collar. Both Dana and Jayden were dressed for the weather with extra layers of warm cotton clothes. Dana wore leggings and a coat over her usual outfit, and she carried a backpack full of food and camping supplies. “What’s wrong with Buttercup?”
“If you’re going to name a sword, it’s typical to give it a more fearsome title, such as Sworn Doom, a famous elven blade that has a history going back twelve centuries. The owner is attempting to intimidate enemies with his, or in this case her, terrifying weapon. Buttercup is not a name to inspire dread.”
Dana stopped marching along the snowy road and put her hands on her hips. “I happen to like Buttercup. My first cat was named Buttercup, and I loved her very much. And I think I should have the last say over the name of my sword.”
“Undoubtedly so, but your choice could result in insults at your expense that I would feel compelled to redress with overwhelming force.”
“Isn’t that your response to most of life’s problems?”
Jayden shrugged. “It’s worked well so far. Dana, named weapons are rare and much sought after. Naming your weapon may increase its value in the eyes of strangers, perhaps enough for them to attempt to steal it, so consider this matter carefully.”
“Oh.” Dana resumed walking. It was a long way to their destination, and she didn’t want to spend another night camping in the snow. Winter had taken a firm hold, with deep snow and bone chilling cold, making travel by foot difficult and dangerous. The road they were on was better traveled than most, and foot and horse traffic had trampled the snow down. Still, it was rough going even on a sunny afternoon like this.
“Traditionally sword names include references to the original owner, which we’re trying to conceal so the authorities don’t go after your family,” Jayden continued. “Other names refer to a famous battle, or enemy defeated with the weapon. That might be a worthy route since you used it to destroy Wall Wolf, an enemy few would dare attack.”
Dana looked at the sheathed short sword that hung from her belt. “Wolf Killer, Golem Killer, Iron Killer…none of those really work for me.”
“This doesn’t require an immediate decision,” Jayden counseled. “Take your time until you come up with a name that suits you, or no name at all. Until then we have much to occupy our attention.”
“Armored wagons,” she said. “I’d never seen one in my life, and the people in the last village said a caravan of ten went down this road.”
Dana and Jayden had spent the last week traveling toward the center of the kingdom. Jayden had hoped to ambush supply wagons heading for Edgeland, and thus starve out the army occupying the city, but days of searching had turned up no targets.
Instead strangers and passersby reported seeing wagons heading for the next major city, a metropolis of a hundred thousand people. These wagons had covered tops and armor plate on their sides, and oxen pulling them wore yet more armor. Ten soldiers accompanied each wagon, and four archers rode on top. Ten knights on horseback had escorted this strange caravan, guiding their absurdly well-defended charges from town to manor to city, never stopping on the road for the night.
“What could the king and queen be transporting that needs so much protection?” Dana asked.
“The last time we intercepted wagons, they carried a fortune in armor,” Jayden said as he trudged through the snow. “If these wagons warrant such protection they surely carry cargo of great value. What it could be, though, baffles me. Gold and jewels are compact and easily concealed, not requiring so many wagons. Trained monsters would require specialized transports, not wagons sealed as tight as a drum. It could be silks or furs, but even then a guard of a hundred fifty men is extreme.”
“Trade has been shut down,” Dana pointed out. “Travel to Kaleoth ended even before the king and queen tried to invade. Going anywhere is hard in winter, so not much could be coming from Zentrix or Brandish.”
Jayden pointed at deep wagon ruts in the road. “Yet something is coming through, a treasure of such value that the king and queen are willing to spend a ridiculous amount guarding it, and go through the difficulty of traveling during winter. I’ve been looking for a worthwhile target ever since we returned from Kaleoth. I daresay this is it.”
Dana and Jayden reached the top of a snowy hill and looked down on the walled city in the distance. Jayden pointed at it and said, “Welcome the city of Armorston, weapons manufacturing center of the kingdom. If a man tries to kill you, chances are the sword, spear, ax or bow was made here.”
“At least we know who to complain to,” Dana said sarcastically.
Jayden smiled at her. “Jesting aside, I visited here before and saw how dangerous it is. Soldiers have the best armor and weapons. The second risk, and the bigger of the two, is that the people of Armorston are loyal. The king and queen recognize the value of this city and treat its residents well, with lower taxes, no conscription of men into the army and no hostages taken from leading citizens to ensure their obedience. These men and women serve the king and queen by choice, and they will attack any who threaten the crown.”
“And a certain someone has wanted posters with his picture on them across the kingdom. What are you worth dead this time?”
“The last poster listed a reward of fifteen thousand silver pieces on my head, but it was weeks old. The price may have gone up since then.”
Dana peered at the distant city. “How do we get in?”
Jayden pointed at the city gate. “I see no easy path. Soldiers search pedestrians and wagons as they enter. The walls are too tall and smooth to climb. Archers in watchtowers would make short work of flying threats. Digging under the wall would be difficult and time consuming.”
“We could wait for the wagons to come out.”
“That could take weeks or months, if it ever happens.” Jayden shook his head. “The armored wagons aren’t far ahead of us and may not have even been unloaded. If we can get inside Armorston, we can investigate the cargo and then steal or destroy it.”
“I could go in alone,” Dana offered. “Look around, see what’s—”
“No,” he said firmly.
Pouting, she said, “I stabbed Wall Wolf through the eye and killed it. I think that proves I can handle myself.”
“Dana, you are fond of pointing out my mortality, and rightly so. Too often I let anger dictate my actions and put my life in danger. You are offering to go into a city of a hundred thousand people that hate me and love the king and queen.”
“There aren’t wanted posters with my face,” she pressed.
“You have a very identifiable magic blade. Enemy soldiers saw you use it when we brought down the bridge over Racehorse River and when we destroyed Wall Wolf. Soldiers will be looking for it. Even if you go unarmed, you are in great danger from men paid to kill anyone who might be a threat. You are not going into Armorston alone.”
Dana walked in front of Jayden. “Then how are we going in together?”
“I’ll tell you once I figure it out.”
Armorston had outgrown its walls, probably long ago judging by the huge number of buildings clustered around it. There were small villages farther out that offered minor services, including restaurants, inns, stables and teamsters. So many people were coming and going that two strangers drew no attention.
“We’re going to explore the outer sections of the city,” Jayden told her. “There may be ways inside such as sewer networks. We’re both wearing enough winter clothes to make it hard to identify us. Act naturally and don’t draw attention to yourself.”
Armorston was a prosperous city, far richer than any Dana had visited. Men and women wore good quality clothes made of leather, wool, furs or cotton. They were healthy and well fed, and most were in good cheer.
“It’s a good thing the king and queen finally brought those dogs in Kaleoth to heel,” a man declared. He was standing on a street corner and addressing a sizeable crowd. “Smugglers have been using that cesspit as their home base for years, and they’ve been recruiting riffraff from across our kingdom to swell their numbers.”
“That’s disgusting,” Dana whispered to Jayden.
“It’s business,” he replied softly. “The man is a professional agitator, paid to spread propaganda. He also judges how well or poorly his message is received, and points out to the authorities anyone who argues with him.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The king and queen saw us through the civil war, and they’ll see us through this, too,” the man continued. “Kaleoth’s corpse king won’t know what hit him!”
“I’ve met his kind before,” Jayden explained. “There are two armed men at the back of the crowd to guard the agitator. A nod from him can bring them down like lightning on anyone whose words betrays a lack of loyalty. If we stay in Armorston long enough we’ll see him performing on other street corners.”
Dana watched the crowd and found it depressingly eager. Men smiled and nodded at the agitator’s words. More people gathered to listen to him.
“How can they fall for this?” she asked.
“I’m sure Armorston’s residents swear by this man’s loyalty and friendship. He’ll buy them drinks, commiserate with them when they suffer, offer minor aid when he can, a friend to all. He’ll have a reputation for being outspoken and connections to officials who give him inside information. Make no mistake, he is an expert at measuring men’s opinions and changing them.”
Dana shivered. “Lies for sale.”
“Blacksmiths are doing record business, and iron miners and charcoal burners do just as well,” the agitator told the crowd. “The army needs clothes, food and draft animals, fairly paid for from those who have. Good times are around the corner.”
The agitator spent time answering questions before moving on. Once he was gone, Jayden led Dana through the city. They found more signs of royal control, including wanted posters, recruitment brochures for the army, and flyers urging residents to inform on their neighbors if they see suspicious activity. Soldiers guarded prosperous businesses, but Dana couldn’t guess who they were protecting them from.
Hours of searching brought Dana and Jayden back to the point where they’d entered the outskirts of Armorston. Jayden led her to an inn outside city limits. He stayed only long enough to buy food before heading to an isolated grove of fruit trees bare of leaves.
“I have to credit the king and queen for their thoroughness,” he said as they ate. “Sewers are too small to crawl through and sealed with iron grates. There is a space fifteen feet wide between the city wall and the nearest building. I heard hounds inside the city walls in case a man enters unnoticed. This is going to be tricky.”
“We need somewhere to stay. If we camp outdoors so close to a city people are going to ask why, but if we stay indoors the owner is going to report us to the army.”
“Not necessarily.” Jayden pointed to a distant inn on a lonely road. “I came here last winter and made the acquaintance of the man who owns that establishment. He will put us up for the night without telling anyone.”
“He could have left or been arrested since then.”
“The fact that the inn still stands is proof he owns it. If someone had tried to arrest him he would have burned the inn down to cover his escape. If he’d left he would have burned it down for insurance money.”
Dana frowned. “Am I going to regret meeting him?”
“Yes.”
Jayden led her into the inn, where a sniveling weasel of a man stood behind a bar. No one else was present, not surprising given the inn’s poor condition. The man choked on a drink when he saw Jayden remove his hat and scarf.
“Gaston, so good to see you still breathing,” Jayden said as he marched up to the man. “You clearly need business, and my friend and I need rooms.”
“W-what madness could have made you come back here?” Gaston sputtered. “The city bank you burned down has only just been rebuilt! Soldiers practice stabbing straw dummies with your face painted on them.”
“That’s been going on for years. Dana, meet Gaston. He and I have a good working relationship. Namely, I didn’t kill him when I really should have, and in return he does exactly what I tell him to do. How’s your wife, Gaston?”
“Which one?” Gatson asked.
Dana covered her face with her hand. “Why do I keep meeting people like this?”
“It’s a puzzle,” Jayden said. He went through his pockets until he came up with two gold coins and tossed them to Gaston. “I pay for the help I receive. We require two rooms with locks, and your selective ignorance if soldiers ask about us.”
Gaston slipped the coins into a slot on the wall. “Business is down regardless of what the king says. You’ve got the place to yourself. Have the good manners to keep whatever trouble you cause far from my door.”
Jayden sat down at the bar across from Gaston. “Naturally. Armored wagons have come into Armorston. What have you heard about them?”
Gaston shrugged. “Everyone has seen them, no one knows what’s in them. Soldiers guarding them won’t let anyone within ten feet. Businessmen swear the wagons aren’t carrying goods for them.”
“I need a way inside the city,” Jayden said.
“Rooms I can give you,” Gaston replied. “If you want miracles, God is picky about who he hands those out to.”
Dana put a hand on a chair and pulled it away quickly. “When was the last time you cleaned this place?”
Gaston pointed a dirty mug at her. “That’s not my fault. Goblins snuck in last night and brushed grease on the furniture. I told one joke about their king, this Bradshaw fellow. One joke!”
“One was enough,” a squeaky voice outside the inn called out.
Dana perked up at the sound. She’d had reasonably good luck dealing with goblins, and goblins could break into anything when they felt like it. She ran for the door, telling Jayden, “Wait here.”
Outside she found a lone goblin digging through a frozen pile of kitchen scraps next to a window. It looked like Gaston threw his garbage out the nearest window, no surprise given his character, and goblins snapped it up. The goblin was only two feet tall, and so covered in rags that only his wide face showed. Dana walked up to the goblin and smiled. “Hi there, my name’s—”
“I know who you are,” the goblin interrupted. “Goblins don’t have many friends. We remember the ones we’ve got.”
“May I ask a favor?” The goblin shrugged in response, but he didn’t leave or insult her. “My friend and I are looking for armored wagons that went into Armorston. Do you know anything about them?”
“We saw them, but we don’t know what’s in them. Soldiers drove the wagons straight into a warehouse and closed the door before unloading them. There were more armored wagons earlier this month. No idea what they carried, and we can’t get near the warehouse.”
“We’d like to look at them, but we can’t get inside the city walls. Can you help us?”
The goblin frowned as if in deep concentration. “We’ve dug tunnels under the wall, but none big enough for you to fit through. I know a human woman who might help, crazy as a goblin and good for a laugh. Give me a few hours and I’ll get you a yes or no.”
Dana bent down and kissed the goblin on the forehead. “Thank you.”
“Good gravy, woman, are you insane?” the goblin sputtered. “You don’t know where I’ve been!”
The goblin headed out, muttering to himself about crazy girls as he slipped between buildings. Dana headed back to the inn and saw Jayden waiting for her by the door with an upraised eyebrow.
“I have rarely seen goblins behave, and never without a substantial bribe. How is it you are on such good terms with a goblin you’d never met before tonight?”
“You know how I keep your secret?” she asked. When Jayden nodded, she said, “It’s not the only one I’m keeping.”
When she didn’t say any more, Jayden pointed at her. “You can’t end a conversation like that.”
Dana headed into the inn without looking back. “Looks like I just did. Innkeeper, do you have any cheese?”
It took a bit of haggling, but Dana was soon the proud owner of a wedge of cheddar. She stayed outside regardless of the cold, keeping clear of other people while she waited for the goblin to return. There was always a chance he wouldn’t come back, but she’d had good luck dealing with goblins ever since she’d kept quiet about their phony ghost in Fish Bait City. Jayden stayed with her, looking curious but not asking for details.
It was dark when the goblin returned with a wagon pulled by two horses following him. He was already smiling ear to ear before he saw the cheese, and he raced to her side at the sight of it. Dana handed over the cheese and the goblin wolfed it down.
Once the goblin finished eating, he said, “You got me a gift before you knew if I’d brought her.”
“I owed you for looking, whether you succeeded or not.” It warmed her heart to see the goblin smile. Dana rubbed her hands together and asked, “So, who is the mystery woman?”
Jayden tensed. “Woman? Oh no.”
“Jayden!” A young woman jumped off the wagon and raced to him, covering the last few feet between them with an impressive leap that ended with her wrapping her arms around him. Jayden’s face turned white, and his eyes opened wide in terror. He tried and failed to break free from the stranger’s embrace.
“Get her off!”
“That’s her,” the goblin said proudly. “She can get you in the city.”
Jayden kept trying to pry the woman off him. “Get. Her. Off. Now.”
The woman let go, but took Jayden by the hands before he could back away. “Jayden, it’s been too long. I love what you’ve done with your hair. It’s got a ‘dangerous wild man’ feel to it. Ooh, is that a scar? Naughty boy, what have you been up to?”
“Dana, make it stop.”
Dana took the woman by the arm and turned her away from Jayden. The woman was in her twenties, a beauty with an hourglass figure. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail that reached to her narrow waist. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. The woman wore a gorgeous silk dress dyed yellow and green, and an emerald green silk coat over that. Her black boots went up to her knees and had blue laces.
“Oh my God, you must be unidentified female accomplice!” the woman squealed. She jumped up and down before hugging Dana. “I’ve wanted to meet you for weeks!”
“Hi,” Dana managed. “Who are you?”
“I keep forgetting how reserved people are around here.” The woman curtsied and bowed her head. “Suzy Lockheart, alchemist, adventurer and troublemaker.”
Dana put a hand over her mouth and tried to keep from laughing. “This is too good. Jayden, this is the lady you used to go on adventures with?”
Jayden gritted his teeth. “One adventure that nearly ended with us all dead.”
“Those boulders missed us by ten feet.” Suzy frowned and corrected, “Eight feet. Maybe six. The important thing is they missed us and we got the money, and there were no witnesses. That’s something you never understood the importance of, dear, making sure no one sees you do naughty things.”
Dana asked, “Unidentified female accomplice?”
Suzy ran back to her wagon and took a stack of papers off the driver’s seat. She sorted through them, throwing most on the ground, until she held up a wanted poster with Jayden’s face on it. “Sorcerer Lord Jayden: wanted for treason, destruction of royal property, theft, assault against royal officials and other crimes. Bounty 18,000 silver pieces, dead or alive, preferably dead. Known to travel with an unknown female accomplice armed with a magic sword. Is that it? Ooh, let me see it!”
The woman pulled Dana’s sword from her sheath and gave it an experimental swing in the air before stabbing a tree with it. The sword sank through the wood like it was warm butter and cut the tree down at chest level. Jayden grabbed Suzy’s hands and pried her fingers open to remove the sword.
Suzy pressed a finger against Jayden’s chest. “I worked with you. I didn’t get a sword.”
“The sword was made long after we’d parted company.” Jayden returned the sword to Dana before addressing Suzy. “I don’t recall you needing help spreading destruction.”
“It’s the thought that counts. You’re supposed to give gifts to pretty ladies.”
“Dana has been a great help to me, and never once nearly gotten me killed.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. “You just won’t let that go.”
Jayden turned his attention to Dana. “I’m going to require an explanation why you did this to me.”
“He,” Dana began, and realized the goblin had left. “I asked a goblin to find us a way inside Armorston. He said he knew someone who could help and brought Suzy.”
“So you didn’t know the goblin was referring to Lockheart,” Jayden said. That seemed to calm him down. “Did the goblin say how this miracle was to take place?”
Suzy wrapped an arm around Jayden’s waist. “You see that lovely wagon over there? I had it specially built by a master carpenter. I told him I needed to transport goods I didn’t want people to find. You know how nosy people can be. Tax collectors, sheriffs, soldiers, public health officials, they just can’t mind their own business.”
Jayden eyed the wagon nervously. “You built secret compartments into the wagon.”
“Sweetie, I can hide three grown men in there, and that’s without trying to squeeze them in. Yub and I are light on cargo at the moment, leaving even more space.”
A blue goblin wearing a white lab coat and blue pants climbed on top of the wagon and waved. Jayden pointed at the goblin and asked, “Yub, I presume?”
“Isn’t he a doll? We met when I was gathering ingredients for bombs.” Suzy pulled in close and whispered into Jayden’s ear, “I just learned goblins love alchemy. There are oodles of them in the Kingdom of the Goblins, blowing things up left and right. Yub wandered off one day to set up his own lab. He was looking for raw materials when we met. The poor dear wasn’t having much luck and asked if he could tag along with me. How could I saw no to a face like that?”
Jayden stared at the grinning goblin. “I am not this desperate.”
“A goblin came to me and said the high and mighty sorcerer lord needs me, which was a serious ego boost,” Suzy gushed. “Naturally I’d love to help, except he was vague on what you wanted. It’s getting late, so let’s go somewhere nice and cozy to talk about what I can do for you, and what I’m getting in return.”
Suzy wrapped her other arm around Dana. “And you have been spending way more time with Jayden than I have, so I’m going to pick your brain for all the dirt on him I can get. Does he snore? He looks like he snores.”
Dana laughed and led Suzy into the inn. Jayden followed, grumbling with every step. Once inside they went into a private room with gaming tables. Suzy and Yub sat down across from Jayden.
“Let me guess, the job is political,” she began. “It’s always political with you. The king did this, the queen did that, that’s all you talk about. Did you ever wonder how much money you could make if you’d just take the best paying jobs?”
“Money is a tool, not a goal,” he said. He grumbled more before admitting, “It’s political. Soldiers brought ten armored wagons into Armotston. I want to know what’s in them, and either steal or destroy it.”
“Innkeeper, drinks, strong ones!” Suzy shouted. “I saw those wagons. There’s no way you could steal ten wagons worth of goods, and burning them is risky when the warehouse they’re stored in is next to the city granaries. If a fire spreads a hundred thousand people go hungry, men women, children, elderly.”
Gaston brought a mug and set it in front of Suzy. She gave him a pitying look and asked, “One? I’ll tell you when to stop bringing them. Jayden, this sounds like it’s going to fail spectacularly, so I want payment up front. Two hundred gold pieces and two dates.”
“I’ll double the gold, but nothing more,” Jayden countered.
Suzy smiled. “Fine, four hundred and two dates.”
Jayden’s face turned red. “No dates!”
“We haven’t got four hundred gold coins, or even two hundred,” Dana said.
“We’ll get it,” Jayden said. “I understand there’s a new bank in town.”
Suzy burst out giggling. “You’re so much fun to play with. If your wallet is a little light, which it wouldn’t be if you took better paying jobs, we can make a deal.”
Jayden’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“The king of Brandish is an itsy bit bothered about that invasion attempt on Kaleoth. He heard the justifications and didn’t buy it. He also noticed a lot more soldiers on his border. The clever boy hired me to close one of the passes leading into his kingdom and make it look like a landslide.”
Suzy drank her mug in one long pull. “He commissioned me to build a big bomb, place it at a narrow rocky point in the pass, and boom, no more pass. But, and he was really firm on this, no pay until he sees the explosion, and he wants it done before spring.”
Jayden folded his arms across his chest. “I fail to see how this requires help.”
“I’m getting there. Yub has plans for a bomb big enough to do the job, but it takes a lot of materials that are hard to come by. There’s no way I can find enough ingredients by foraging in the wilderness to do the job in time, especially during winter. Buying what I need isn’t happening with the prospect of a long, bloody, pointless war driving up prices. What I can do, with a little help, is steal it.”
Suzy leaned over the table. “It’s even political. I came to Armorston because an alchemist lives here, rich guy, takes contracts from the king and queen, the sort of person you hate. I visited, flirted with him, talked shop for a couple hours, and when he was busy getting us drinks I checked his stock.”
Dana waved her hands. “Wait a minute. How did you get past their security?”
The innkeeper returned with a bottle and tried to fill Suzy’s mug. She took the bottle from him and drank straight from it. “I don’t have a price on my head. I did some legitimate work over the years, burning tree stumps, blowing up monsters. It gave me a good reputation. Plus, alchemists don’t have the bad press sorcerer lords do. I just had to buy a pass for the month that lets me go everywhere except army and government buildings.”
“I presume this alchemist has the supplies you need,” Jayden said.
Suzy set down her mug and bottle. Her voice was filled with excitement as she leaned closer to Jayden. “He’s got everything and more. Dried powdered phoenix blossoms, shed dragon scales, harpy feathers, etherium. Etherium!”
Suzy reached across the table and grabbed Jayden by the collar of his coat. Her face inches from his, she asked, “Do you know how hard it is to get etherium? Do you have any idea what the black market price is for even one ounce? He’s got five ounces, Jayden! The king and queen have to be supplying him, or paying him enough to buy the best!”
Her voice fell to a whisper. “I want it all. I get you into the city, you help me clean him out, and then we look at your wagons. My part won’t take thirty minutes.”
Jayden looked at Suzy with the same apprehension usually reserved for poisonous snakes. He gently pushed her back into her chair. “When can we do it?”
“Tomorrow night. I don’t want to risk the alchemist using up any of those goodies before we can steal them. Plus, my pass is only good for another three days. After that I either have to apply for permanent residency or leave. We both win, Jayden. You get to burn stuff, or maybe steal it. That always makes you happy. I get a fortune in alchemy ingredients and get to work with you again.”
“Deal.” Jayden reached across the table and shook Suzy’s hand.
“You won’t regret this,” Suzy promised. “Well, you might. You’re so picky about mortal danger and collateral damage. I have to see to my wagon and horses.”
Once Suzy left the inn, Jayden turned to Dana. “I know you were trying to help when you arranged this meeting, but you don’t realize the threat she poses.”
“Come on, Jayden, she survived this long, so she must be good at her job.” He didn’t look convinced, so she added, “You’ve learned new spells since we met. I’ll bet Suzy has learned new tricks and is more powerful than she was the last time you two met.”
Jayden headed for his room. “Which means all of Armorston is now in danger.”
“How about Buttercup?” Dana Illwind asked Jayden. She saw his frown through his scarf, hat and thick coat with upturned collar. Both Dana and Jayden were dressed for the weather with extra layers of warm cotton clothes. Dana wore leggings and a coat over her usual outfit, and she carried a backpack full of food and camping supplies. “What’s wrong with Buttercup?”
“If you’re going to name a sword, it’s typical to give it a more fearsome title, such as Sworn Doom, a famous elven blade that has a history going back twelve centuries. The owner is attempting to intimidate enemies with his, or in this case her, terrifying weapon. Buttercup is not a name to inspire dread.”
Dana stopped marching along the snowy road and put her hands on her hips. “I happen to like Buttercup. My first cat was named Buttercup, and I loved her very much. And I think I should have the last say over the name of my sword.”
“Undoubtedly so, but your choice could result in insults at your expense that I would feel compelled to redress with overwhelming force.”
“Isn’t that your response to most of life’s problems?”
Jayden shrugged. “It’s worked well so far. Dana, named weapons are rare and much sought after. Naming your weapon may increase its value in the eyes of strangers, perhaps enough for them to attempt to steal it, so consider this matter carefully.”
“Oh.” Dana resumed walking. It was a long way to their destination, and she didn’t want to spend another night camping in the snow. Winter had taken a firm hold, with deep snow and bone chilling cold, making travel by foot difficult and dangerous. The road they were on was better traveled than most, and foot and horse traffic had trampled the snow down. Still, it was rough going even on a sunny afternoon like this.
“Traditionally sword names include references to the original owner, which we’re trying to conceal so the authorities don’t go after your family,” Jayden continued. “Other names refer to a famous battle, or enemy defeated with the weapon. That might be a worthy route since you used it to destroy Wall Wolf, an enemy few would dare attack.”
Dana looked at the sheathed short sword that hung from her belt. “Wolf Killer, Golem Killer, Iron Killer…none of those really work for me.”
“This doesn’t require an immediate decision,” Jayden counseled. “Take your time until you come up with a name that suits you, or no name at all. Until then we have much to occupy our attention.”
“Armored wagons,” she said. “I’d never seen one in my life, and the people in the last village said a caravan of ten went down this road.”
Dana and Jayden had spent the last week traveling toward the center of the kingdom. Jayden had hoped to ambush supply wagons heading for Edgeland, and thus starve out the army occupying the city, but days of searching had turned up no targets.
Instead strangers and passersby reported seeing wagons heading for the next major city, a metropolis of a hundred thousand people. These wagons had covered tops and armor plate on their sides, and oxen pulling them wore yet more armor. Ten soldiers accompanied each wagon, and four archers rode on top. Ten knights on horseback had escorted this strange caravan, guiding their absurdly well-defended charges from town to manor to city, never stopping on the road for the night.
“What could the king and queen be transporting that needs so much protection?” Dana asked.
“The last time we intercepted wagons, they carried a fortune in armor,” Jayden said as he trudged through the snow. “If these wagons warrant such protection they surely carry cargo of great value. What it could be, though, baffles me. Gold and jewels are compact and easily concealed, not requiring so many wagons. Trained monsters would require specialized transports, not wagons sealed as tight as a drum. It could be silks or furs, but even then a guard of a hundred fifty men is extreme.”
“Trade has been shut down,” Dana pointed out. “Travel to Kaleoth ended even before the king and queen tried to invade. Going anywhere is hard in winter, so not much could be coming from Zentrix or Brandish.”
Jayden pointed at deep wagon ruts in the road. “Yet something is coming through, a treasure of such value that the king and queen are willing to spend a ridiculous amount guarding it, and go through the difficulty of traveling during winter. I’ve been looking for a worthwhile target ever since we returned from Kaleoth. I daresay this is it.”
Dana and Jayden reached the top of a snowy hill and looked down on the walled city in the distance. Jayden pointed at it and said, “Welcome the city of Armorston, weapons manufacturing center of the kingdom. If a man tries to kill you, chances are the sword, spear, ax or bow was made here.”
“At least we know who to complain to,” Dana said sarcastically.
Jayden smiled at her. “Jesting aside, I visited here before and saw how dangerous it is. Soldiers have the best armor and weapons. The second risk, and the bigger of the two, is that the people of Armorston are loyal. The king and queen recognize the value of this city and treat its residents well, with lower taxes, no conscription of men into the army and no hostages taken from leading citizens to ensure their obedience. These men and women serve the king and queen by choice, and they will attack any who threaten the crown.”
“And a certain someone has wanted posters with his picture on them across the kingdom. What are you worth dead this time?”
“The last poster listed a reward of fifteen thousand silver pieces on my head, but it was weeks old. The price may have gone up since then.”
Dana peered at the distant city. “How do we get in?”
Jayden pointed at the city gate. “I see no easy path. Soldiers search pedestrians and wagons as they enter. The walls are too tall and smooth to climb. Archers in watchtowers would make short work of flying threats. Digging under the wall would be difficult and time consuming.”
“We could wait for the wagons to come out.”
“That could take weeks or months, if it ever happens.” Jayden shook his head. “The armored wagons aren’t far ahead of us and may not have even been unloaded. If we can get inside Armorston, we can investigate the cargo and then steal or destroy it.”
“I could go in alone,” Dana offered. “Look around, see what’s—”
“No,” he said firmly.
Pouting, she said, “I stabbed Wall Wolf through the eye and killed it. I think that proves I can handle myself.”
“Dana, you are fond of pointing out my mortality, and rightly so. Too often I let anger dictate my actions and put my life in danger. You are offering to go into a city of a hundred thousand people that hate me and love the king and queen.”
“There aren’t wanted posters with my face,” she pressed.
“You have a very identifiable magic blade. Enemy soldiers saw you use it when we brought down the bridge over Racehorse River and when we destroyed Wall Wolf. Soldiers will be looking for it. Even if you go unarmed, you are in great danger from men paid to kill anyone who might be a threat. You are not going into Armorston alone.”
Dana walked in front of Jayden. “Then how are we going in together?”
“I’ll tell you once I figure it out.”
Armorston had outgrown its walls, probably long ago judging by the huge number of buildings clustered around it. There were small villages farther out that offered minor services, including restaurants, inns, stables and teamsters. So many people were coming and going that two strangers drew no attention.
“We’re going to explore the outer sections of the city,” Jayden told her. “There may be ways inside such as sewer networks. We’re both wearing enough winter clothes to make it hard to identify us. Act naturally and don’t draw attention to yourself.”
Armorston was a prosperous city, far richer than any Dana had visited. Men and women wore good quality clothes made of leather, wool, furs or cotton. They were healthy and well fed, and most were in good cheer.
“It’s a good thing the king and queen finally brought those dogs in Kaleoth to heel,” a man declared. He was standing on a street corner and addressing a sizeable crowd. “Smugglers have been using that cesspit as their home base for years, and they’ve been recruiting riffraff from across our kingdom to swell their numbers.”
“That’s disgusting,” Dana whispered to Jayden.
“It’s business,” he replied softly. “The man is a professional agitator, paid to spread propaganda. He also judges how well or poorly his message is received, and points out to the authorities anyone who argues with him.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The king and queen saw us through the civil war, and they’ll see us through this, too,” the man continued. “Kaleoth’s corpse king won’t know what hit him!”
“I’ve met his kind before,” Jayden explained. “There are two armed men at the back of the crowd to guard the agitator. A nod from him can bring them down like lightning on anyone whose words betrays a lack of loyalty. If we stay in Armorston long enough we’ll see him performing on other street corners.”
Dana watched the crowd and found it depressingly eager. Men smiled and nodded at the agitator’s words. More people gathered to listen to him.
“How can they fall for this?” she asked.
“I’m sure Armorston’s residents swear by this man’s loyalty and friendship. He’ll buy them drinks, commiserate with them when they suffer, offer minor aid when he can, a friend to all. He’ll have a reputation for being outspoken and connections to officials who give him inside information. Make no mistake, he is an expert at measuring men’s opinions and changing them.”
Dana shivered. “Lies for sale.”
“Blacksmiths are doing record business, and iron miners and charcoal burners do just as well,” the agitator told the crowd. “The army needs clothes, food and draft animals, fairly paid for from those who have. Good times are around the corner.”
The agitator spent time answering questions before moving on. Once he was gone, Jayden led Dana through the city. They found more signs of royal control, including wanted posters, recruitment brochures for the army, and flyers urging residents to inform on their neighbors if they see suspicious activity. Soldiers guarded prosperous businesses, but Dana couldn’t guess who they were protecting them from.
Hours of searching brought Dana and Jayden back to the point where they’d entered the outskirts of Armorston. Jayden led her to an inn outside city limits. He stayed only long enough to buy food before heading to an isolated grove of fruit trees bare of leaves.
“I have to credit the king and queen for their thoroughness,” he said as they ate. “Sewers are too small to crawl through and sealed with iron grates. There is a space fifteen feet wide between the city wall and the nearest building. I heard hounds inside the city walls in case a man enters unnoticed. This is going to be tricky.”
“We need somewhere to stay. If we camp outdoors so close to a city people are going to ask why, but if we stay indoors the owner is going to report us to the army.”
“Not necessarily.” Jayden pointed to a distant inn on a lonely road. “I came here last winter and made the acquaintance of the man who owns that establishment. He will put us up for the night without telling anyone.”
“He could have left or been arrested since then.”
“The fact that the inn still stands is proof he owns it. If someone had tried to arrest him he would have burned the inn down to cover his escape. If he’d left he would have burned it down for insurance money.”
Dana frowned. “Am I going to regret meeting him?”
“Yes.”
Jayden led her into the inn, where a sniveling weasel of a man stood behind a bar. No one else was present, not surprising given the inn’s poor condition. The man choked on a drink when he saw Jayden remove his hat and scarf.
“Gaston, so good to see you still breathing,” Jayden said as he marched up to the man. “You clearly need business, and my friend and I need rooms.”
“W-what madness could have made you come back here?” Gaston sputtered. “The city bank you burned down has only just been rebuilt! Soldiers practice stabbing straw dummies with your face painted on them.”
“That’s been going on for years. Dana, meet Gaston. He and I have a good working relationship. Namely, I didn’t kill him when I really should have, and in return he does exactly what I tell him to do. How’s your wife, Gaston?”
“Which one?” Gatson asked.
Dana covered her face with her hand. “Why do I keep meeting people like this?”
“It’s a puzzle,” Jayden said. He went through his pockets until he came up with two gold coins and tossed them to Gaston. “I pay for the help I receive. We require two rooms with locks, and your selective ignorance if soldiers ask about us.”
Gaston slipped the coins into a slot on the wall. “Business is down regardless of what the king says. You’ve got the place to yourself. Have the good manners to keep whatever trouble you cause far from my door.”
Jayden sat down at the bar across from Gaston. “Naturally. Armored wagons have come into Armorston. What have you heard about them?”
Gaston shrugged. “Everyone has seen them, no one knows what’s in them. Soldiers guarding them won’t let anyone within ten feet. Businessmen swear the wagons aren’t carrying goods for them.”
“I need a way inside the city,” Jayden said.
“Rooms I can give you,” Gaston replied. “If you want miracles, God is picky about who he hands those out to.”
Dana put a hand on a chair and pulled it away quickly. “When was the last time you cleaned this place?”
Gaston pointed a dirty mug at her. “That’s not my fault. Goblins snuck in last night and brushed grease on the furniture. I told one joke about their king, this Bradshaw fellow. One joke!”
“One was enough,” a squeaky voice outside the inn called out.
Dana perked up at the sound. She’d had reasonably good luck dealing with goblins, and goblins could break into anything when they felt like it. She ran for the door, telling Jayden, “Wait here.”
Outside she found a lone goblin digging through a frozen pile of kitchen scraps next to a window. It looked like Gaston threw his garbage out the nearest window, no surprise given his character, and goblins snapped it up. The goblin was only two feet tall, and so covered in rags that only his wide face showed. Dana walked up to the goblin and smiled. “Hi there, my name’s—”
“I know who you are,” the goblin interrupted. “Goblins don’t have many friends. We remember the ones we’ve got.”
“May I ask a favor?” The goblin shrugged in response, but he didn’t leave or insult her. “My friend and I are looking for armored wagons that went into Armorston. Do you know anything about them?”
“We saw them, but we don’t know what’s in them. Soldiers drove the wagons straight into a warehouse and closed the door before unloading them. There were more armored wagons earlier this month. No idea what they carried, and we can’t get near the warehouse.”
“We’d like to look at them, but we can’t get inside the city walls. Can you help us?”
The goblin frowned as if in deep concentration. “We’ve dug tunnels under the wall, but none big enough for you to fit through. I know a human woman who might help, crazy as a goblin and good for a laugh. Give me a few hours and I’ll get you a yes or no.”
Dana bent down and kissed the goblin on the forehead. “Thank you.”
“Good gravy, woman, are you insane?” the goblin sputtered. “You don’t know where I’ve been!”
The goblin headed out, muttering to himself about crazy girls as he slipped between buildings. Dana headed back to the inn and saw Jayden waiting for her by the door with an upraised eyebrow.
“I have rarely seen goblins behave, and never without a substantial bribe. How is it you are on such good terms with a goblin you’d never met before tonight?”
“You know how I keep your secret?” she asked. When Jayden nodded, she said, “It’s not the only one I’m keeping.”
When she didn’t say any more, Jayden pointed at her. “You can’t end a conversation like that.”
Dana headed into the inn without looking back. “Looks like I just did. Innkeeper, do you have any cheese?”
It took a bit of haggling, but Dana was soon the proud owner of a wedge of cheddar. She stayed outside regardless of the cold, keeping clear of other people while she waited for the goblin to return. There was always a chance he wouldn’t come back, but she’d had good luck dealing with goblins ever since she’d kept quiet about their phony ghost in Fish Bait City. Jayden stayed with her, looking curious but not asking for details.
It was dark when the goblin returned with a wagon pulled by two horses following him. He was already smiling ear to ear before he saw the cheese, and he raced to her side at the sight of it. Dana handed over the cheese and the goblin wolfed it down.
Once the goblin finished eating, he said, “You got me a gift before you knew if I’d brought her.”
“I owed you for looking, whether you succeeded or not.” It warmed her heart to see the goblin smile. Dana rubbed her hands together and asked, “So, who is the mystery woman?”
Jayden tensed. “Woman? Oh no.”
“Jayden!” A young woman jumped off the wagon and raced to him, covering the last few feet between them with an impressive leap that ended with her wrapping her arms around him. Jayden’s face turned white, and his eyes opened wide in terror. He tried and failed to break free from the stranger’s embrace.
“Get her off!”
“That’s her,” the goblin said proudly. “She can get you in the city.”
Jayden kept trying to pry the woman off him. “Get. Her. Off. Now.”
The woman let go, but took Jayden by the hands before he could back away. “Jayden, it’s been too long. I love what you’ve done with your hair. It’s got a ‘dangerous wild man’ feel to it. Ooh, is that a scar? Naughty boy, what have you been up to?”
“Dana, make it stop.”
Dana took the woman by the arm and turned her away from Jayden. The woman was in her twenties, a beauty with an hourglass figure. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail that reached to her narrow waist. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. The woman wore a gorgeous silk dress dyed yellow and green, and an emerald green silk coat over that. Her black boots went up to her knees and had blue laces.
“Oh my God, you must be unidentified female accomplice!” the woman squealed. She jumped up and down before hugging Dana. “I’ve wanted to meet you for weeks!”
“Hi,” Dana managed. “Who are you?”
“I keep forgetting how reserved people are around here.” The woman curtsied and bowed her head. “Suzy Lockheart, alchemist, adventurer and troublemaker.”
Dana put a hand over her mouth and tried to keep from laughing. “This is too good. Jayden, this is the lady you used to go on adventures with?”
Jayden gritted his teeth. “One adventure that nearly ended with us all dead.”
“Those boulders missed us by ten feet.” Suzy frowned and corrected, “Eight feet. Maybe six. The important thing is they missed us and we got the money, and there were no witnesses. That’s something you never understood the importance of, dear, making sure no one sees you do naughty things.”
Dana asked, “Unidentified female accomplice?”
Suzy ran back to her wagon and took a stack of papers off the driver’s seat. She sorted through them, throwing most on the ground, until she held up a wanted poster with Jayden’s face on it. “Sorcerer Lord Jayden: wanted for treason, destruction of royal property, theft, assault against royal officials and other crimes. Bounty 18,000 silver pieces, dead or alive, preferably dead. Known to travel with an unknown female accomplice armed with a magic sword. Is that it? Ooh, let me see it!”
The woman pulled Dana’s sword from her sheath and gave it an experimental swing in the air before stabbing a tree with it. The sword sank through the wood like it was warm butter and cut the tree down at chest level. Jayden grabbed Suzy’s hands and pried her fingers open to remove the sword.
Suzy pressed a finger against Jayden’s chest. “I worked with you. I didn’t get a sword.”
“The sword was made long after we’d parted company.” Jayden returned the sword to Dana before addressing Suzy. “I don’t recall you needing help spreading destruction.”
“It’s the thought that counts. You’re supposed to give gifts to pretty ladies.”
“Dana has been a great help to me, and never once nearly gotten me killed.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. “You just won’t let that go.”
Jayden turned his attention to Dana. “I’m going to require an explanation why you did this to me.”
“He,” Dana began, and realized the goblin had left. “I asked a goblin to find us a way inside Armorston. He said he knew someone who could help and brought Suzy.”
“So you didn’t know the goblin was referring to Lockheart,” Jayden said. That seemed to calm him down. “Did the goblin say how this miracle was to take place?”
Suzy wrapped an arm around Jayden’s waist. “You see that lovely wagon over there? I had it specially built by a master carpenter. I told him I needed to transport goods I didn’t want people to find. You know how nosy people can be. Tax collectors, sheriffs, soldiers, public health officials, they just can’t mind their own business.”
Jayden eyed the wagon nervously. “You built secret compartments into the wagon.”
“Sweetie, I can hide three grown men in there, and that’s without trying to squeeze them in. Yub and I are light on cargo at the moment, leaving even more space.”
A blue goblin wearing a white lab coat and blue pants climbed on top of the wagon and waved. Jayden pointed at the goblin and asked, “Yub, I presume?”
“Isn’t he a doll? We met when I was gathering ingredients for bombs.” Suzy pulled in close and whispered into Jayden’s ear, “I just learned goblins love alchemy. There are oodles of them in the Kingdom of the Goblins, blowing things up left and right. Yub wandered off one day to set up his own lab. He was looking for raw materials when we met. The poor dear wasn’t having much luck and asked if he could tag along with me. How could I saw no to a face like that?”
Jayden stared at the grinning goblin. “I am not this desperate.”
“A goblin came to me and said the high and mighty sorcerer lord needs me, which was a serious ego boost,” Suzy gushed. “Naturally I’d love to help, except he was vague on what you wanted. It’s getting late, so let’s go somewhere nice and cozy to talk about what I can do for you, and what I’m getting in return.”
Suzy wrapped her other arm around Dana. “And you have been spending way more time with Jayden than I have, so I’m going to pick your brain for all the dirt on him I can get. Does he snore? He looks like he snores.”
Dana laughed and led Suzy into the inn. Jayden followed, grumbling with every step. Once inside they went into a private room with gaming tables. Suzy and Yub sat down across from Jayden.
“Let me guess, the job is political,” she began. “It’s always political with you. The king did this, the queen did that, that’s all you talk about. Did you ever wonder how much money you could make if you’d just take the best paying jobs?”
“Money is a tool, not a goal,” he said. He grumbled more before admitting, “It’s political. Soldiers brought ten armored wagons into Armotston. I want to know what’s in them, and either steal or destroy it.”
“Innkeeper, drinks, strong ones!” Suzy shouted. “I saw those wagons. There’s no way you could steal ten wagons worth of goods, and burning them is risky when the warehouse they’re stored in is next to the city granaries. If a fire spreads a hundred thousand people go hungry, men women, children, elderly.”
Gaston brought a mug and set it in front of Suzy. She gave him a pitying look and asked, “One? I’ll tell you when to stop bringing them. Jayden, this sounds like it’s going to fail spectacularly, so I want payment up front. Two hundred gold pieces and two dates.”
“I’ll double the gold, but nothing more,” Jayden countered.
Suzy smiled. “Fine, four hundred and two dates.”
Jayden’s face turned red. “No dates!”
“We haven’t got four hundred gold coins, or even two hundred,” Dana said.
“We’ll get it,” Jayden said. “I understand there’s a new bank in town.”
Suzy burst out giggling. “You’re so much fun to play with. If your wallet is a little light, which it wouldn’t be if you took better paying jobs, we can make a deal.”
Jayden’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“The king of Brandish is an itsy bit bothered about that invasion attempt on Kaleoth. He heard the justifications and didn’t buy it. He also noticed a lot more soldiers on his border. The clever boy hired me to close one of the passes leading into his kingdom and make it look like a landslide.”
Suzy drank her mug in one long pull. “He commissioned me to build a big bomb, place it at a narrow rocky point in the pass, and boom, no more pass. But, and he was really firm on this, no pay until he sees the explosion, and he wants it done before spring.”
Jayden folded his arms across his chest. “I fail to see how this requires help.”
“I’m getting there. Yub has plans for a bomb big enough to do the job, but it takes a lot of materials that are hard to come by. There’s no way I can find enough ingredients by foraging in the wilderness to do the job in time, especially during winter. Buying what I need isn’t happening with the prospect of a long, bloody, pointless war driving up prices. What I can do, with a little help, is steal it.”
Suzy leaned over the table. “It’s even political. I came to Armorston because an alchemist lives here, rich guy, takes contracts from the king and queen, the sort of person you hate. I visited, flirted with him, talked shop for a couple hours, and when he was busy getting us drinks I checked his stock.”
Dana waved her hands. “Wait a minute. How did you get past their security?”
The innkeeper returned with a bottle and tried to fill Suzy’s mug. She took the bottle from him and drank straight from it. “I don’t have a price on my head. I did some legitimate work over the years, burning tree stumps, blowing up monsters. It gave me a good reputation. Plus, alchemists don’t have the bad press sorcerer lords do. I just had to buy a pass for the month that lets me go everywhere except army and government buildings.”
“I presume this alchemist has the supplies you need,” Jayden said.
Suzy set down her mug and bottle. Her voice was filled with excitement as she leaned closer to Jayden. “He’s got everything and more. Dried powdered phoenix blossoms, shed dragon scales, harpy feathers, etherium. Etherium!”
Suzy reached across the table and grabbed Jayden by the collar of his coat. Her face inches from his, she asked, “Do you know how hard it is to get etherium? Do you have any idea what the black market price is for even one ounce? He’s got five ounces, Jayden! The king and queen have to be supplying him, or paying him enough to buy the best!”
Her voice fell to a whisper. “I want it all. I get you into the city, you help me clean him out, and then we look at your wagons. My part won’t take thirty minutes.”
Jayden looked at Suzy with the same apprehension usually reserved for poisonous snakes. He gently pushed her back into her chair. “When can we do it?”
“Tomorrow night. I don’t want to risk the alchemist using up any of those goodies before we can steal them. Plus, my pass is only good for another three days. After that I either have to apply for permanent residency or leave. We both win, Jayden. You get to burn stuff, or maybe steal it. That always makes you happy. I get a fortune in alchemy ingredients and get to work with you again.”
“Deal.” Jayden reached across the table and shook Suzy’s hand.
“You won’t regret this,” Suzy promised. “Well, you might. You’re so picky about mortal danger and collateral damage. I have to see to my wagon and horses.”
Once Suzy left the inn, Jayden turned to Dana. “I know you were trying to help when you arranged this meeting, but you don’t realize the threat she poses.”
“Come on, Jayden, she survived this long, so she must be good at her job.” He didn’t look convinced, so she added, “You’ve learned new spells since we met. I’ll bet Suzy has learned new tricks and is more powerful than she was the last time you two met.”
Jayden headed for his room. “Which means all of Armorston is now in danger.”
August 6, 2019
Another 500 Words
“Sleepy baby,” Grace said as she rocked her son. The baby yawned and fell into a deep slumber. Grace set the baby in his cradle and checked on her daughter Jenna. The little girl was napping on her tiny bed, giving Grace time to do work around her house. A mob of five gray cats waited until she’d left to cuddle up to the sleeping children.
One cat stayed by Grace as she cleaned the house. Grace smiled and stroked its back before she went outside and hung laundry to dry in the warm summer wind. The cat followed her and watched as if such a chore was interesting.
“You must have seen Esme do this,” she told the cat. It shrugged and headed for the nearby woods. The cat only went a few steps before stopping and turning to look west. Grace followed its gaze to see a man with a sword walking along the edge of the woods. “Hello there.”
The man locked his eyes on her. “Hello, pretty thing.”
Grace kept working while she watched the stranger. Young, strong, sort of handsome, worn clothes, she’d seen his kind many times before. “How long since you left the army?”
The man froze. “How did you…dumb question, I’ve got a sword.”
“And tattoos on your arm. Swords and axes, that’s Duke Kramer’s mark. Plenty of men have come this way after leaving his service. Where are you headed?”
The man’s eyes went from her toes to her head. “I haven’t decided. Not much to look forward to. Strange to see a pretty lady all alone.”
“My husband Roy is a woodcutter. He’s in the forest cutting timber to repair our baronet’s house.”
The stranger came a step closer. “So he won’t be back for a while.”
Grace hung up a threadbare sheet to dry. “Not for hours. You’ll like Roy. He used to be a soldier, too. He’s helped plenty of men settle down after leaving the army.”
“I don’t need help getting what I want.”
The cat walked over and rubbed against Grace’s ankles. The stranger frowned and pointed at the cat. “Is that a garnet in its collar?”
“No, a ruby.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s big. How did a woodcutter’s wife get a ruby?”
Grace laughed. “It’s not my ruby or my cat. Did you ever hear of Esme the sorceress?”
“Yeah, an old woman who brewed potions for old men.” He laughed. “I don’t need potions.”
“Esme passed away, and her cat brought her kittens to grow up in our house. Hmm, must have been six months ago.”
The stranger snapped his fingers. “I just remembered, she was called Always Fails Esme. Funny a witch who couldn’t get anything right would have a ruby. I’ll thank your husband for being so hospitable, letting me have a ruby and his wife.”
“Esme got some things right,” Grace replied as the ruby flashed. In seconds the cat grew, twisted, warped and leaped twenty feet onto the man’s face.
One cat stayed by Grace as she cleaned the house. Grace smiled and stroked its back before she went outside and hung laundry to dry in the warm summer wind. The cat followed her and watched as if such a chore was interesting.
“You must have seen Esme do this,” she told the cat. It shrugged and headed for the nearby woods. The cat only went a few steps before stopping and turning to look west. Grace followed its gaze to see a man with a sword walking along the edge of the woods. “Hello there.”
The man locked his eyes on her. “Hello, pretty thing.”
Grace kept working while she watched the stranger. Young, strong, sort of handsome, worn clothes, she’d seen his kind many times before. “How long since you left the army?”
The man froze. “How did you…dumb question, I’ve got a sword.”
“And tattoos on your arm. Swords and axes, that’s Duke Kramer’s mark. Plenty of men have come this way after leaving his service. Where are you headed?”
The man’s eyes went from her toes to her head. “I haven’t decided. Not much to look forward to. Strange to see a pretty lady all alone.”
“My husband Roy is a woodcutter. He’s in the forest cutting timber to repair our baronet’s house.”
The stranger came a step closer. “So he won’t be back for a while.”
Grace hung up a threadbare sheet to dry. “Not for hours. You’ll like Roy. He used to be a soldier, too. He’s helped plenty of men settle down after leaving the army.”
“I don’t need help getting what I want.”
The cat walked over and rubbed against Grace’s ankles. The stranger frowned and pointed at the cat. “Is that a garnet in its collar?”
“No, a ruby.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s big. How did a woodcutter’s wife get a ruby?”
Grace laughed. “It’s not my ruby or my cat. Did you ever hear of Esme the sorceress?”
“Yeah, an old woman who brewed potions for old men.” He laughed. “I don’t need potions.”
“Esme passed away, and her cat brought her kittens to grow up in our house. Hmm, must have been six months ago.”
The stranger snapped his fingers. “I just remembered, she was called Always Fails Esme. Funny a witch who couldn’t get anything right would have a ruby. I’ll thank your husband for being so hospitable, letting me have a ruby and his wife.”
“Esme got some things right,” Grace replied as the ruby flashed. In seconds the cat grew, twisted, warped and leaped twenty feet onto the man’s face.
July 13, 2019
500 Words
“Verge, this is amazing!” Madam Ulest held up the necklace for the other guests to see. Braided gold chain wrapped around bloodstones, it was the most exquisite piece of jewelry she’d seen, even more beautiful that the many statues and paintings in Baron Verge’s grand ballroom. “How much did this cost you?”
Verge tipped his top hat to her. “Dear cousin, a gentleman never discusses price. Seeing you happy makes any cost pale in comparison.”
“I expected something when you promised a surprise for my birthday, but this is incredible.” Ulest put the necklace on and spun around.
“That’s your birthday present. The surprise is coming.” Verge clapped his hands, and servants brought in a magic mirror. He saw her joy diminish at the sight of the mirror, and he quickly went to her side. “I know you don’t care for Standish, but his assistance is essential. Please, gather around.”
Relatives, friends and neighbors pulled up their chairs around the mirror while Verge brought Ulest a seat. He tapped the mirror and smiled. “When I offered to host this celebration, I knew it had to be special. Now I’m sure you’re all familiar with Chast Firefeather.”
Ulest put a hand to her mouth. “That darling man! Handsome, strong, brave, clever, why, God was generous with him.”
A guest said, “A world class hunter of dark and fetid creatures. There’s someone you can count on to clean up the neighborhood.”
“You couldn’t say a word against him,” added another.
“Do you remember that ghoul outbreak four years ago?” Ulest asked in a hushed tone. “Firefeather dealt with them in two days.”
“He is exceptional at eliminating riffraff,” Verge said. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he continued. “What you may not know is that I hired him.”
“How did you manage that?” Ulest asked.
“I use trusted intermediaries.” Verge tapped the mirror again. “Firefeather excels at removing zombies, ghouls, walking skeletons, unintelligent pests that risk drawing attention our way. The truth is he’s been working for me, unofficially, for years.”
A guest shook Verge’s hand. “He’s on your payroll? Well done, old boy!”
“Well played!” said another guest.
Verge bent down next to Ulest. “And tonight he’s doing a special job for the lady of honor.”
Ulest gasped. “Wait, you mean…”
Verge caressed her face. “I hired a man who hired Firefeather to kill the barrow wights near your estate. He’s on the job as we speak, and Standish is going to show the hunt start to finish.”
“It will be a pleasure, sir,” the magic mirror said.
Ulest took Verge’s hand in hers. “Firefeather doesn’t work cheap.”
“Nothing is too good for your three hundredth birthday.”
The mirror was blank for a moment, its reflection showing the gorgeously decorated room. It didn’t show the guests with their pale skin and sharp teeth.
“Mirrors are cruel things,” Ulest said sadly.
Verge sat next to her as the mirror showed a man marching through an ancient graveyard. “Shh, it’s starting.
Verge tipped his top hat to her. “Dear cousin, a gentleman never discusses price. Seeing you happy makes any cost pale in comparison.”
“I expected something when you promised a surprise for my birthday, but this is incredible.” Ulest put the necklace on and spun around.
“That’s your birthday present. The surprise is coming.” Verge clapped his hands, and servants brought in a magic mirror. He saw her joy diminish at the sight of the mirror, and he quickly went to her side. “I know you don’t care for Standish, but his assistance is essential. Please, gather around.”
Relatives, friends and neighbors pulled up their chairs around the mirror while Verge brought Ulest a seat. He tapped the mirror and smiled. “When I offered to host this celebration, I knew it had to be special. Now I’m sure you’re all familiar with Chast Firefeather.”
Ulest put a hand to her mouth. “That darling man! Handsome, strong, brave, clever, why, God was generous with him.”
A guest said, “A world class hunter of dark and fetid creatures. There’s someone you can count on to clean up the neighborhood.”
“You couldn’t say a word against him,” added another.
“Do you remember that ghoul outbreak four years ago?” Ulest asked in a hushed tone. “Firefeather dealt with them in two days.”
“He is exceptional at eliminating riffraff,” Verge said. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he continued. “What you may not know is that I hired him.”
“How did you manage that?” Ulest asked.
“I use trusted intermediaries.” Verge tapped the mirror again. “Firefeather excels at removing zombies, ghouls, walking skeletons, unintelligent pests that risk drawing attention our way. The truth is he’s been working for me, unofficially, for years.”
A guest shook Verge’s hand. “He’s on your payroll? Well done, old boy!”
“Well played!” said another guest.
Verge bent down next to Ulest. “And tonight he’s doing a special job for the lady of honor.”
Ulest gasped. “Wait, you mean…”
Verge caressed her face. “I hired a man who hired Firefeather to kill the barrow wights near your estate. He’s on the job as we speak, and Standish is going to show the hunt start to finish.”
“It will be a pleasure, sir,” the magic mirror said.
Ulest took Verge’s hand in hers. “Firefeather doesn’t work cheap.”
“Nothing is too good for your three hundredth birthday.”
The mirror was blank for a moment, its reflection showing the gorgeously decorated room. It didn’t show the guests with their pale skin and sharp teeth.
“Mirrors are cruel things,” Ulest said sadly.
Verge sat next to her as the mirror showed a man marching through an ancient graveyard. “Shh, it’s starting.
July 11, 2019
Rematch part 2
This is the conclusion of the story Rematch.
***********
Once they were outside and away from the wizards and knights, Dana whispered, “How does King Brent know who you are?”
“Prince Mastram visited Kaleoth as a child and made quite the impression by talking with King Brent for hours about the ancient sorcerer lords,” Jayden whispered back. It was strange the way he spoke of his life as a prince as if it was another person. “If King Brent’s spies know as much about me as he claims, then they doubtless drew sketches of me. The old man recognized me from those, and bless his heart told no one.”
Maya stopped walking. “You’re leaving.”
Jayden stopped and took her hands. “If I ignore this battle, another one far worse is sure to come before long.”
“I mean after this you’re leaving Kaleoth and not coming back. You’re not taking me with you, are you?”
“It wouldn’t be safe. I’ll leave sufficient funds to cover your needs for a year, and I’ve met a few people in River Twin I can ask to offer further aid. It’s not what you deserve, but it’s what I can give.”
Maya looked at her feet. “It’s okay. It was silly thinking anything was going to happen. Princes don’t marry foundlings.”
“Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.” Jayden’s voice was firm, and Maya looked up at the commanding tone. “You lost your home because of me, and paintings you created that deserved to hang in the halls of noblemen and kings. Even after I’d done you harm you risked your life to save mine. I owe you a heavy debt, and I pay what I owe. Maya, ask of me what you will, one request equal to a man’s life, and if it is within my power to grant it to you then you shall have it.”
Dana slapped a hand over her face. The man just didn’t know how to act around girls, especially impressionable ones.
Maya hesitated. “You mean it?”
“I keep my promises.”
Maya paused again, gazing into his eyes, then frowned. “You know what I’d ask for, but you wouldn’t be happy here.” She waved her hand across the river. “After destroying these bridges you’d want to be over there, because people need you. You’d keep your word, but you’d be miserable for the rest of your life because that’s your homeland and those are your people, and you feel responsible for them.”
Jayden said nothing in reply. He stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers, waiting for her to make her wish as if he were a genie.
“You want me to charge you for saving your life, but you don’t charge for saving other’s lives. Dana told me how you helped so many people, sometimes getting rewarded, sometimes not. I want this to be a no reward situation. I, I can’t live the kind of life you do. I’d come with you if I could, but I’m a painter, not a fighter. So, no reward, no gift or promise you’ll keep even if you don’t like it. Do one thing for me.”
“Anything.”
“When we’re at peace again, come back to me and we’ll talk. If I get what I want, I want you to want it, too, and that can’t happen when you think you have to do it.” She hesitated and asked, “Is that too much?”
Jayden kissed her on the forehead. “It’s proof you are a kinder soul than I.”
* * * * *
The following night it snowed as promised, not a serious storm but enough to reduce visibility. Jayden and Dana waited outside town, and were soon joined by the wizards Klim and Malvel. Special agent Ulem made the mistake of showing up as well, and Jayden gave the fool a hostile stare.
“Where is the prince?” Jayden asked.
“Gone,” Ulem said. “It was a mistake for him to come in the first place. He’s safe where he’s at and doing important work.”
“You’re ready?” Klim asked. The wizard had a soft voice and looked calm.
“He’s not,” Ulem said. “This mission is risky enough without you bringing the girl.”
“I helped bring down the bridge over Racehorse River, and I chopped four fingers off Wall Wolf,” Dana countered. “I can take care of myself.”
Ulem ignored her and spoke to Jayden. “I heard you settled accounts with the other girl. Pay her, and be quick about it.”
“What does he mean by pay me?” Dana asked Jayden.
“He means,” Jayden began, and punched the man below the belt again. Ulem cried out in pain as he fell into the snow, and the wizards winced. “That he’s a classless bore. Every kingdom has men like him, crude and belittling to those around him, as common as roaches and just as hard to remove. He means he’s sorry for his behavior, and is going to give greater thought to his words and deeds from this day on.”
“I kind of think that’s not what he meant,” Dana said.
Jayden scowled at the fallen man. “It is if he expects to walk away from this meeting.”
Malvel stepped between Jayden and his victim. “We’re on a time limit. If you’re taking the girl with us, fine, but there’s no room for delays.”
Klim cast a spell, forming a large, flat cloud that hovered inches above the ground. He stepped onto it as if it was a solid object, and to Dana’s amazement the cloud bore his weight without effort. Klim waved his staff at the others. “Let us begin, and may higher powers guide and protect us on our mission.”
Malvel and Jayden climbed onto the cloud without complaint. Jayden helped Dana up when she hesitated. The cloud felt spongy under her feet, like it was made of wet cotton, but it supported her. She grabbed onto Jayden’s arm as the cloud floated into the sky until it merged with the storm clouds overhead. Dana shivered in the cold. She could feel the magic cloud moving, but could see only inches ahead. Wind tugged at her, and she worried that a strong enough gust might push her off.
“Sorry Ulem was such a bother,” Klim said as he guided the cloud. “He has many fine features, bravery, prowess in battle, but he’s best kept outside of polite company, even more than you are.”
“I don’t insult women regardless of their birth, and neither should he,” Jayden said. “How long until we reach our target?”
Klim’s voice called out from the darkness, “Thirty minutes. If I travel faster we might make a disturbance in the clouds that enemy soldiers could see.”
“They’d notice it in a snowstorm?” Dana asked.
“They know Kaleoth has wizards,” Klim responded. “Unless their general is a fool they will have men with keen eyesight watching the clouds, especially in bad weather.”
“Do you always let your servant ask questions,” Malvel asked.
“Dana is my friend, and yes,” Jayden replied tersely.
“It wasn’t a complaint,” Malvel said. “My teacher told me an inquisitive mind is to be encouraged. Pity so few men feel the same.” Malvel hummed a strange tune before asking, “Does she have a sister?”
Dana was disoriented by the darkness, wind and cold, and she answered before considering the question. “Three. Why do you want to…oh, wait, hold on a second.”
“Don’t you have enough women mad at you?” Klim asked.
“Mission first, dating opportunities second, and none with my friend’s sisters,” Jayden told the wizards.
The cloud halted in the dark and cold. Klim called out, “I cast a spell granting me sight within clouds before we left. We’re over the bridges and nearly five hundred feet above them. I’m going to increase the snowfall for five minutes. That should cover out descent, but to be certain I’m going to drop us as fast. Hold tight, and no screaming.”
Klim chanted and the clouds dumped snow as if it was a blizzard. Seconds later the magic cloud dropped like a stone. Dana held tight to Jayden and clenched her eyes shut as she stifled a panicked scream. The magic cloud slowed so fast it forced Dana to her knees, and then landed before boiling away to nothing. Dana opened her eyes and found herself once more on the streets of Edgeland. They were near the inn that had been abandoned during their first visit but now brightly lit and packed to capacity with soldiers.
Jayden took Dana by the hand and led her into the alleys. Klim and Malvel followed before Klim pointed them to a courtyard in the distance. Dana saw large tents filling the courtyard, and soldiers patrolled regardless of the cold and thick snow.
“I don’t want to attack the guards if we can avoid it,” Jayden said. “They will be missed even if we defeat them silently.”
“No doubt,” Malvel said. “Klim can create a strong wind and fog to hide us while we get into the tents. If we’re lucky no one is inside them.”
Klim cast another spell, and the wind grew to gale strength. Soldiers turned away and covered their faces against the sudden wind. It was a momentary distraction that let Dana, Jayden and the two wizards to run over and crawl under the edges of the largest tent. It was dark inside until Malvel whispered a spell that produced a tiny light.
“Wow,” Dana said. The bridges didn’t disappoint. Each one was fifty feet long, half a base with large wood wheels and the other half could be lowered like a drawbridge to cover the gaps in the bridge. Construction wasn’t finished, with missing wheels on one bridge and only half the drawbridge section done, but they looked sturdy. The bridges were armored with iron plates and then wrapped in fresh ox hides.
Klim ran his fingers over an iron plate on the second bridge. “This could be an issue. Jayden, can handle this this?”
Jayden cast a spell and formed his black whip. “With difficulty. Once I’ve cut through a section it’s going to make too much noise when it falls to the street. I need the bridges supported.”
“Easily done,” Klim said. He cast a spell and sprayed blue-white ice from the tip of his staff. He aimed the icy spray under the bridges until there was a layer of ice reaching from the cobblestone courtyard up to the bridge.
With the bridge supported, Jayden swung his whip at the completed bridge. The whip stretched until it wrapped entirely around the massive bridge. It hissed like an angry snake as it began to slow process of cutting through the bridge.
“Dana, Malvel, keep watch in case the guards come,” Jayden said.
“I could cut the bridges with my sword,” Dana offered. “If it can hurt an iron golem, it should do the job.”
“It crippled Wall Wolf, but not quietly, and I recall a shower of sparks when you struck the golem. If we are discovered I’ll need you to step in and do as much damage as you can, but that is a last resort.”
Malvel stood by the tent flaps with his staff and Dana drew her sword. She’d had training with it, but she wondered if it would be enough for a fight. The last time she’d drawn it in battle was against Wall Wolf, a victory by the thinnest of margins.
Jayden continued cutting through the first bridge, his whip eating through iron, wood and animal hides. The bridge was so thick and the iron plates so hard that he made slow progress. Guards walked by the tent twice. Dana and Malvel readied themselves for a fight, but the guards continued on without looking inside. How long would their luck last?
Once the guards had passed the tent for the second time, Dana took the opportunity to look around. It was hard to see much with Malvel’s dim light. Dana barely made out woodworking tools on benches, extra iron plates wrapped in ox hides, and what looked like piles of dirt and curled bits of paper. She sifted some of the strange pile through her fingers and held it up to Malvel.
“Wood shavings and sawdust. I think it’s left behind from building the bridges. If we have to leave before finishing the job, we could spread it around and you can set it on fire. I bet it would burn pretty fast.”
Malvel picked up a pinch of sawdust. “The question is whether it would burn long enough to do serious damage. About these sisters of yours…”
“They’re not your type. Jayden, how’s it coming?”
“I should be done with the first section in five minutes. Barring interruptions, I’d like to cut each bridge into more than two pieces. At a minimum, we’re going to need hours.”
Dana tensed when she heard voices in the distance rose up, their tone angry. She heard the voices again, not coming closer but not stopping, either. More troubling, she didn’t understand the language. “What is that?”
“Dwarven,” Jayden said over the hissing of his whip. “I heard the words ‘idiot’ and ‘overtime’, but the rest was too quiet.”
“Why would anyone be speaking in dwarven in a human kingdom?” Dana asked. Guards walked by again, and she fell silent until they left. “Kyver Rendmal hired human mercenaries for his army. Could he have hired dwarfs, too?”
“A definite possibility,” Jayden told her. “I’m almost through.”
Dana looked to Klim. “I need cover. Can you make the snowstorm get worse for a little while?”
Klim cast a spell, causing the tip of his staff to turn pale blue. “You have three minutes of blizzard conditions.”
“Be careful,” Jayden cautioned her.
Dana left the tent and headed in the direction of the angry voices. The snow was so thick it was impossible to see far, but she could follow the sound of arguments in the dour language of the dwarfs. She reached another tent, this one far smaller than the one concealing the bridges. Dana bent down and lifted the edge of the tent to look underneath.
There was Wall Wolf.
The iron golem was on its back with five dwarfs standing around it. Wall Wolf’s right hand was still missing its fingers, but by the look of it not for long. The dwarfs wore brown robes and had the severed fingers on a wood table. They were studying the hand she’d cut them off of. The armor on the right arm was gone up to the elbow, revealing a bewildering array of pipes and cables. Strange runes were cast on the palm of the right hand and the forearm. Dwarfs waved wands and scepters over the runes. The symbols glowed in response.
One dwarf yelled at another and held up one of the damaged fingers. The second dwarf yelled back and pointed at the rune on the palm. They made wild gestures, waving their arms and stomping their feet when they spoke.
One of the dwarfs saw Dana. She winced under the dwarf’s harsh gaze. The dwarf shifted from his own language to human and said, “This isn’t women’s work. Leave.”
For a second Dana didn’t know what to say. Why weren’t the dwarfs attacking her? Then it hit her like a brick: they didn’t know she worked for Jayden. Most people didn’t since she didn’t appear on Jayden’s wanted posters and their steadily growing price on his head. The dwarfs thought she was a peasant girl, maybe a servant.
“Sorry, sir.” Dana ran to the other tent and hurried inside. Once she was back among friends, she said, “Wall Wolf is in the other tent. I saw dwarfs working on him. I think they’re wizards trying to put his fingers back on.”
“That’s not surprising,” Jayden said. He finished cutting through the first bridge, and the two pieces settled on the ice supports Klim had made. “Wall Wolf was built by Golem Works, one of the largest dwarf corporations. The king and queen must have hired them to repair the golem before they send it into battle again. It also explains who destroyed Prince Onus’ crystal ball. Dwarf wizards are experts at building magic items and would have no difficulty destroying one, even at a distance.”
“Can we kill it while it’s lying down?” she begged.
“Bloodthirsty little girl, aren’t you,” Malvel said approvingly.
“It would fight back if attacked,” Jayden replied. His magic whip vanished now that it was through the bridge, and he recast the spell to create another. “You’ll forgive me, but after our last encounter I’ve no desire to renew our acquaintance.”
Dana frowned. “General Kyver the Jerk could send Wall Wolf across the riverbed to attack River Twin even without the bridges to bring in troops.”
“The risk is too great,” Jayden replied. “We’re in a city filled with soldiers and mercenaries. If we fight Wall Wolf those men could come after us.”
Malvel extinguished his magic light and stepped away from the tent flap. “Guards are coming.”
“You’re going to get us whipped and branded,” a man’s voice called out.
“Staying out in the cold any longer could cost us our toes,” another man replied. “If the high and mighty general won’t give us braziers with hot coals, or at least a campfire, then we do what we must to keep from getting frostbite.”
Two soldiers in chain armor opened the tent flaps. The first one had enough time to say, “See, these guys had the same idea. Wait a min—”
Malvel struck the first soldier across the face as Klim blasted the man with a stream of icicles. Jayden created his magic hand and slapped the other soldier to the ground. For just a moment Dana thought they’d done it, but the second man screamed when Jayden struck him again with the hand. Men called out in the distance, and the air filled with whistles and bells.
“I do believe it’s time to leave,” Malvel said.
“Not yet,” Jayden ordered. “Klim, hold them off. Dana, Malvel, do as much damage to the bridges as you can.”
Klim sprayed the ground around the tent with magic ice, forming a slippery layer inches thick. Malvel cast a spell that made his hands glow cherry red. He pressed them against the second bridge and began to melt through the iron plates and burn the wood. Dana drew her sword and swung it at the nearest bridge. She hit an iron plate and had to close her eyes against the shower of sparks the sword made as it cut deep.
“Alarm! Alarm!” a man cried out in the distance. “We’ve got men down by the tents!”
The deepening layer on snow on the ground made it hard to hear the crowd of men coming. Dana had no trouble hearing those men scream and curse as they slipped and fell on the ground Klim had iced over. She saw a man slide by the tent flaps and crash into a building, followed by two more men.
Jayden wrapped his whip around the second bridge. The whip melted through iron plates, but at such a slow rate that he’d never destroy it in time. He looked at Klim and said, “Do we have minutes or seconds?”
Klim formed a wall of ice eight feet tall around the tent. “If we’re only fighting men then we have minutes. If Wall Wolf attacks then even seconds is too much to promise.”
Dana hacked at the bridge, cutting deep grooves through iron and wood. Normally she’d be thrilled at how much damage she was doing, but the bridge was so huge she’d need an hour to destroy it. Malvel’s and Jayden’s attacks sped up the process, but not enough. She glanced at Jayden and asked, “This would be a good time for your fire spell.”
“It takes too long to cast, and we’re so close to the bridge that we’d be caught in the blast.” Jayden’s whip cut through an iron plate that fell to the floor. He looked at her and shouted, “Watch your feet!”
“What?” Dana looked down and screamed. The sprays of sparks her sword made hitting the bridge had ignited sawdust around her. She ran from the growing flames and went to another part of the bridge.
Boom. The snow on the ground did little to conceal the sound of Wall Wolf walking toward them. Dana heard ice crack as Wall Wolf stepped onto the icy sheet around the tent. There was a horrible crunch when the golem broke through the ice wall, sending sharp chunks of ice through the tent that tore it open.
Wall Wolf loomed over them with Kyver Rendmal a step behind it, and behind them a host of soldiers. The golem’s right arm was missing all its fingers and much of its armor. This made it weaker than the first time she’d faced it, but not by much if it had burst through the ice wall so easily.
“You,” Kyver spat. The general still wore his armor, but had exchanged his purple cape for furs. He pointed the control rod for the golem at Jayden. “I’d hoped you would’ve had the decency to die like the mangy dog you are, but here you are again, attacking your own homeland once more. Worse, you make common cause with its enemies, treason by any standard.”
Jayden pulled his whip off the damaged bridge, and his magic hand pointed at Kyver. “You mistake me for someone who has any respect for your opinions. I hope you’re enjoying your stay in Edgeland. It promises to be a long one.”
Kyver’s eyes shifted to the left, where one of his bridges was cut in half and the other had suffered serious damage. “You think you can hold back the full fury of the king’s wrath with this? Fool! It would be easier to drink the ocean dry than to stop this army! Wall Wolf, hear me and obey! Kill Sorcerer Lord Jayden and his allies! Stain the snow red!”
“You remain charming company as always,” Jayden quipped as Wall Wolf stomped toward him. Kyver and his men didn’t follow it, a smart move when the battle between the golem and wizards could spill over onto them. Jayden fell back against one of the bridges and looked to Klim. “This would be an excellent time to leave.”
Klim raised his staff. “I need time to create a magic cloud. Slow the golem down.”
Stopping the sun from rising would have been an easier request. Jayden swung his magic whip and struck Wall Wolf across the face. Malvel hit the golem in the chest with a jet of white-hot fire. Both attacks did nothing. Klim was still casting his spell when Wall Wolf tried to trample the man. Klim gave up on his spell and ran for his life, dodging the golem’s heavy feet by inches.
“Aim for its right arm!” Jayden yelled. He swung his whip and struck the golem’s palm, while Malvel blasted it with more fire. Dana ducked below their attacks and swung her sword at Wall Wolf’s arm. Sparks flew when her blade cut deeply into the unarmored right arm.
If Wall Wolf could feel pain the golem hid it well, pushing onwards without hesitation and nearly stepping on Jayden. He ran along the edge of the damage bridge, dodging a punch that broke through the street near Jayden’s heels.
“Stop! Stop!” The dwarf wizards pushed their way through the crowd of soldiers until they reached Kyver. A dwarf pulled on Kyver’s arm and shouted, “We didn’t finish the repairs!”
Kyver pulled free from the dwarf. “Away from me!”
The dwarf didn’t give up. “With the armor compromised every blow they strike is doing serious damage. You’re pushing up the time and cost of repairing the golem. Send in your men instead.”
Gouts of flame washed over Wall Wolf, followed by a shower of razor sharp icicles and a stinging blow from a black whip. Soldiers saw the golem take hits that would kill even a man in armor, and they flinched when a giant clawed hand punched Wall Wolf in the head.
“Yes, send them in, Kyver,” Jayden taunted. “Maybe burying us in bodies will make up for your poor generalship.”
Wall Wolf pressed on regardless of the damage it was taking. It swung at Jayden, missing again but by a smaller margin. More fire struck it and the damaged arm turned red hot, but instead of retreating it dug its left hand into the street and pulled up a handful of cobblestones. It threw them at Jayden, the mass of stones spreading out as they flew so it was impossible to dodge them all. Three rocks hit Jayden in the chest and stomach, and he staggered from the blows.
“Give me the control rod!” the dwarf shouted. He tried to grab it, but Kyver shoved the dwarf to the ground. “Wall Wolf isn’t under warranty! Think about the bill!”
Wall Wolf grabbed part of the destroyed bridge, and with one hand the golem lifted it over its head before throwing it at Jayden. The golem missed as Jayden leapt to the side, but the heavy timbers and iron plates of the bridge dug a deep furrow into the street. Wall Wolf tried to stomp on Jayden and barely missed.
The golem pulled its left arm back for a punch when Dana ran it and stabbed its right arm. Malvel had blasted it with flame so often that the inner workings of its arm were red hot and softened. Dana’s sword sunk deep into the metal arm, showering her with sparks. Jayden created his black sword and ran in alongside her before he drove his sword in next to hers. Both of them pulled their swords up, hacking off the arm at the elbow. The severed limb fell to the ground with a thud. The runes cast in the limb flashed and sparked before they burst.
The dwarfs looked away in horror. Their leader said, “Insurance isn’t going to cover that.”
Kyver screamed like a child throwing a trantrum. Then his eyes fell on Dana. “You again! Wall Wolf, hear me and obey! Your armor will hold against their attacks. The girl is the only one with a weapon that can hurt you. Kill her first!”
Wall Wolf’s armored head turned to stare at her. It was missing most of an arm, but Kyver was right, the rest of its body was impervious to their attacks. Even Dana’s sword could only do superficial damage. The reverse wasn’t true, and Wall Wolf battered aside a section of the destroyed bridge as it went after her.
“Klim, we need that magic cloud now!” Jayden shouted. He ran along Wall Wolf and hacked at its heels. His magic sword bounced off no matter how many times he hit it. Malvel made his hands turn blazing hot and grabbed Wall Wolf around the left leg. His blazing hands heated the golem’s thick armor but nothing more before the golem kicked him off.
Dana ran from the golem and kept only steps ahead. Running wasn’t going to be an option forever when soldiers surrounded them. If she ran into them they’d cut her down with spears and swords. If she needed a reminder of what would happen if Wall Wolf hit her, she got it when the golem trampled and crushed the piece of the wooden bridge it had thrown at Jayden.
Which, oddly enough, gave her an idea.
“Let it come after me!” she shouted to the others as she headed for the second bridge. She, Jayden and Malvel had damaged this one, but not seriously enough to put it out of commission. Dana ran to the bridge and scurried under it.
Wall Wolf caught up with her and raised its left arm high into the air before swinging it straight down. Dana screamed when the huge fist came through the bridge a foot away from her. She crawled along the bridge as Wall Wolf punched one hole after another through it trying to get her.
“Wait, stop!” Kyver yelled. “I said kill the girl, not destroy the bridge!”
“Order it to come back to us while we both still have something left to salvage!” a dwarf begged Kyver.
“Wall Wolf, hear me and obey! Return to my side!”
Wall Wolf had its remaining arm raised for an attack, but at its master’s orders it halted and turned away from Dana. It raised a foot to take a step away from her, and that’s when all three wizards attacked. Klim encased the golem’s head in a block of ice four feet thick. Jayden used his giant magic hand to grab the golem’s heel and pull, toppling it over. The ice block shattered when the golem hit the ground. Malvel blasted the golem in the head with magic flames, and the metal made a pinging sound as it changed from extreme cold to intense heat.
Dana was still on her knees underneath what was left of the second bridge when the golem landed beside her, its armored head so close she could touch it. Wall Wolf’s head looked like a knight’s helmet, complete with visor and eye slits, and as she looked inside those narrow openings she saw runes cast in the metal within. Wall Wolf had similar runes on the arm they’d cut off it. Dana didn’t understand magic, but it looked like those runes were important to it somehow, a weakness concealed under armor thick enough to protect them.
Wall Wolf was struggling to get up with its one arm when Dana got out from beneath the bridge and ran straight at it. For a second its head was level with her, and she stabbed her sword through the visor and into the rune.
Wall Wolf rose to its feet and thrashed about wildly. Dana held onto her sword and was pulled up with it. She struggled to hold on as the golem staggered about and swung its left arm in the air. It seemed to go into seizures, shaking uncontrollably as the rune inside its head sparked and burst. There were more explosions inside its body, some strong enough to blast off pieces of armor and reveal more runes sparking and bursting. Dana screamed when Wall Wolf went stiff and fell over backwards. She lost her grip and fell next to it, nearly hitting the unforgiving ground before Jayden caught her.
“That seemed like such a good idea in my head,” she gasped.
Jayden set her on her feet and pulled her sword out of Wall Wolf. The golem laid silent, smoke rising from it. He returned her sword and said, “I can’t imagine how it could have gone better.”
There was a stunned silence from the soldiers surrounding them. Men backed up. A few even dropped their weapons. Kyver stared at Wall Wolf, too shocked to scream threats or insults.
One of the dwarf’s pointed at Dana’s sword. “That’s Thume Breakbones’ workmanship. I’d recognize it anywhere.” His face twisted in rage, the dwarf screamed, “I’ll kill him!”
“Klim, we haven’t got long before they regain their courage and attack,” Jayden said. “We need to leave.”
“Done and done.” Klim created a magic cloud under their feet and carried Dana, Jayden, Malvel and himself away.
“Archers!” Kyver screamed. “Get me my archers!”
The order came too late. Dana saw men scurrying below as the cloud went ever higher into the sky. A few men managed to notch arrows to their bows, but darkness and snowfall ruined any chance they had to see their targets, much less hit them.
“That is an impressive weapon,” Klim said as he guided the cloud. “Wherever did you find it?”
“That’s a long story,” Dana said. She studied her sword for a moment before sheathing it. The weapon had lived up to the promises Thume had made months before. Wall Wolf, guardian of the royal family for generations, a terror no one had even scratched, lay dead. Well, as dead as a golem could be. Maybe her sword did deserve a name.
***********
Once they were outside and away from the wizards and knights, Dana whispered, “How does King Brent know who you are?”
“Prince Mastram visited Kaleoth as a child and made quite the impression by talking with King Brent for hours about the ancient sorcerer lords,” Jayden whispered back. It was strange the way he spoke of his life as a prince as if it was another person. “If King Brent’s spies know as much about me as he claims, then they doubtless drew sketches of me. The old man recognized me from those, and bless his heart told no one.”
Maya stopped walking. “You’re leaving.”
Jayden stopped and took her hands. “If I ignore this battle, another one far worse is sure to come before long.”
“I mean after this you’re leaving Kaleoth and not coming back. You’re not taking me with you, are you?”
“It wouldn’t be safe. I’ll leave sufficient funds to cover your needs for a year, and I’ve met a few people in River Twin I can ask to offer further aid. It’s not what you deserve, but it’s what I can give.”
Maya looked at her feet. “It’s okay. It was silly thinking anything was going to happen. Princes don’t marry foundlings.”
“Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.” Jayden’s voice was firm, and Maya looked up at the commanding tone. “You lost your home because of me, and paintings you created that deserved to hang in the halls of noblemen and kings. Even after I’d done you harm you risked your life to save mine. I owe you a heavy debt, and I pay what I owe. Maya, ask of me what you will, one request equal to a man’s life, and if it is within my power to grant it to you then you shall have it.”
Dana slapped a hand over her face. The man just didn’t know how to act around girls, especially impressionable ones.
Maya hesitated. “You mean it?”
“I keep my promises.”
Maya paused again, gazing into his eyes, then frowned. “You know what I’d ask for, but you wouldn’t be happy here.” She waved her hand across the river. “After destroying these bridges you’d want to be over there, because people need you. You’d keep your word, but you’d be miserable for the rest of your life because that’s your homeland and those are your people, and you feel responsible for them.”
Jayden said nothing in reply. He stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers, waiting for her to make her wish as if he were a genie.
“You want me to charge you for saving your life, but you don’t charge for saving other’s lives. Dana told me how you helped so many people, sometimes getting rewarded, sometimes not. I want this to be a no reward situation. I, I can’t live the kind of life you do. I’d come with you if I could, but I’m a painter, not a fighter. So, no reward, no gift or promise you’ll keep even if you don’t like it. Do one thing for me.”
“Anything.”
“When we’re at peace again, come back to me and we’ll talk. If I get what I want, I want you to want it, too, and that can’t happen when you think you have to do it.” She hesitated and asked, “Is that too much?”
Jayden kissed her on the forehead. “It’s proof you are a kinder soul than I.”
* * * * *
The following night it snowed as promised, not a serious storm but enough to reduce visibility. Jayden and Dana waited outside town, and were soon joined by the wizards Klim and Malvel. Special agent Ulem made the mistake of showing up as well, and Jayden gave the fool a hostile stare.
“Where is the prince?” Jayden asked.
“Gone,” Ulem said. “It was a mistake for him to come in the first place. He’s safe where he’s at and doing important work.”
“You’re ready?” Klim asked. The wizard had a soft voice and looked calm.
“He’s not,” Ulem said. “This mission is risky enough without you bringing the girl.”
“I helped bring down the bridge over Racehorse River, and I chopped four fingers off Wall Wolf,” Dana countered. “I can take care of myself.”
Ulem ignored her and spoke to Jayden. “I heard you settled accounts with the other girl. Pay her, and be quick about it.”
“What does he mean by pay me?” Dana asked Jayden.
“He means,” Jayden began, and punched the man below the belt again. Ulem cried out in pain as he fell into the snow, and the wizards winced. “That he’s a classless bore. Every kingdom has men like him, crude and belittling to those around him, as common as roaches and just as hard to remove. He means he’s sorry for his behavior, and is going to give greater thought to his words and deeds from this day on.”
“I kind of think that’s not what he meant,” Dana said.
Jayden scowled at the fallen man. “It is if he expects to walk away from this meeting.”
Malvel stepped between Jayden and his victim. “We’re on a time limit. If you’re taking the girl with us, fine, but there’s no room for delays.”
Klim cast a spell, forming a large, flat cloud that hovered inches above the ground. He stepped onto it as if it was a solid object, and to Dana’s amazement the cloud bore his weight without effort. Klim waved his staff at the others. “Let us begin, and may higher powers guide and protect us on our mission.”
Malvel and Jayden climbed onto the cloud without complaint. Jayden helped Dana up when she hesitated. The cloud felt spongy under her feet, like it was made of wet cotton, but it supported her. She grabbed onto Jayden’s arm as the cloud floated into the sky until it merged with the storm clouds overhead. Dana shivered in the cold. She could feel the magic cloud moving, but could see only inches ahead. Wind tugged at her, and she worried that a strong enough gust might push her off.
“Sorry Ulem was such a bother,” Klim said as he guided the cloud. “He has many fine features, bravery, prowess in battle, but he’s best kept outside of polite company, even more than you are.”
“I don’t insult women regardless of their birth, and neither should he,” Jayden said. “How long until we reach our target?”
Klim’s voice called out from the darkness, “Thirty minutes. If I travel faster we might make a disturbance in the clouds that enemy soldiers could see.”
“They’d notice it in a snowstorm?” Dana asked.
“They know Kaleoth has wizards,” Klim responded. “Unless their general is a fool they will have men with keen eyesight watching the clouds, especially in bad weather.”
“Do you always let your servant ask questions,” Malvel asked.
“Dana is my friend, and yes,” Jayden replied tersely.
“It wasn’t a complaint,” Malvel said. “My teacher told me an inquisitive mind is to be encouraged. Pity so few men feel the same.” Malvel hummed a strange tune before asking, “Does she have a sister?”
Dana was disoriented by the darkness, wind and cold, and she answered before considering the question. “Three. Why do you want to…oh, wait, hold on a second.”
“Don’t you have enough women mad at you?” Klim asked.
“Mission first, dating opportunities second, and none with my friend’s sisters,” Jayden told the wizards.
The cloud halted in the dark and cold. Klim called out, “I cast a spell granting me sight within clouds before we left. We’re over the bridges and nearly five hundred feet above them. I’m going to increase the snowfall for five minutes. That should cover out descent, but to be certain I’m going to drop us as fast. Hold tight, and no screaming.”
Klim chanted and the clouds dumped snow as if it was a blizzard. Seconds later the magic cloud dropped like a stone. Dana held tight to Jayden and clenched her eyes shut as she stifled a panicked scream. The magic cloud slowed so fast it forced Dana to her knees, and then landed before boiling away to nothing. Dana opened her eyes and found herself once more on the streets of Edgeland. They were near the inn that had been abandoned during their first visit but now brightly lit and packed to capacity with soldiers.
Jayden took Dana by the hand and led her into the alleys. Klim and Malvel followed before Klim pointed them to a courtyard in the distance. Dana saw large tents filling the courtyard, and soldiers patrolled regardless of the cold and thick snow.
“I don’t want to attack the guards if we can avoid it,” Jayden said. “They will be missed even if we defeat them silently.”
“No doubt,” Malvel said. “Klim can create a strong wind and fog to hide us while we get into the tents. If we’re lucky no one is inside them.”
Klim cast another spell, and the wind grew to gale strength. Soldiers turned away and covered their faces against the sudden wind. It was a momentary distraction that let Dana, Jayden and the two wizards to run over and crawl under the edges of the largest tent. It was dark inside until Malvel whispered a spell that produced a tiny light.
“Wow,” Dana said. The bridges didn’t disappoint. Each one was fifty feet long, half a base with large wood wheels and the other half could be lowered like a drawbridge to cover the gaps in the bridge. Construction wasn’t finished, with missing wheels on one bridge and only half the drawbridge section done, but they looked sturdy. The bridges were armored with iron plates and then wrapped in fresh ox hides.
Klim ran his fingers over an iron plate on the second bridge. “This could be an issue. Jayden, can handle this this?”
Jayden cast a spell and formed his black whip. “With difficulty. Once I’ve cut through a section it’s going to make too much noise when it falls to the street. I need the bridges supported.”
“Easily done,” Klim said. He cast a spell and sprayed blue-white ice from the tip of his staff. He aimed the icy spray under the bridges until there was a layer of ice reaching from the cobblestone courtyard up to the bridge.
With the bridge supported, Jayden swung his whip at the completed bridge. The whip stretched until it wrapped entirely around the massive bridge. It hissed like an angry snake as it began to slow process of cutting through the bridge.
“Dana, Malvel, keep watch in case the guards come,” Jayden said.
“I could cut the bridges with my sword,” Dana offered. “If it can hurt an iron golem, it should do the job.”
“It crippled Wall Wolf, but not quietly, and I recall a shower of sparks when you struck the golem. If we are discovered I’ll need you to step in and do as much damage as you can, but that is a last resort.”
Malvel stood by the tent flaps with his staff and Dana drew her sword. She’d had training with it, but she wondered if it would be enough for a fight. The last time she’d drawn it in battle was against Wall Wolf, a victory by the thinnest of margins.
Jayden continued cutting through the first bridge, his whip eating through iron, wood and animal hides. The bridge was so thick and the iron plates so hard that he made slow progress. Guards walked by the tent twice. Dana and Malvel readied themselves for a fight, but the guards continued on without looking inside. How long would their luck last?
Once the guards had passed the tent for the second time, Dana took the opportunity to look around. It was hard to see much with Malvel’s dim light. Dana barely made out woodworking tools on benches, extra iron plates wrapped in ox hides, and what looked like piles of dirt and curled bits of paper. She sifted some of the strange pile through her fingers and held it up to Malvel.
“Wood shavings and sawdust. I think it’s left behind from building the bridges. If we have to leave before finishing the job, we could spread it around and you can set it on fire. I bet it would burn pretty fast.”
Malvel picked up a pinch of sawdust. “The question is whether it would burn long enough to do serious damage. About these sisters of yours…”
“They’re not your type. Jayden, how’s it coming?”
“I should be done with the first section in five minutes. Barring interruptions, I’d like to cut each bridge into more than two pieces. At a minimum, we’re going to need hours.”
Dana tensed when she heard voices in the distance rose up, their tone angry. She heard the voices again, not coming closer but not stopping, either. More troubling, she didn’t understand the language. “What is that?”
“Dwarven,” Jayden said over the hissing of his whip. “I heard the words ‘idiot’ and ‘overtime’, but the rest was too quiet.”
“Why would anyone be speaking in dwarven in a human kingdom?” Dana asked. Guards walked by again, and she fell silent until they left. “Kyver Rendmal hired human mercenaries for his army. Could he have hired dwarfs, too?”
“A definite possibility,” Jayden told her. “I’m almost through.”
Dana looked to Klim. “I need cover. Can you make the snowstorm get worse for a little while?”
Klim cast a spell, causing the tip of his staff to turn pale blue. “You have three minutes of blizzard conditions.”
“Be careful,” Jayden cautioned her.
Dana left the tent and headed in the direction of the angry voices. The snow was so thick it was impossible to see far, but she could follow the sound of arguments in the dour language of the dwarfs. She reached another tent, this one far smaller than the one concealing the bridges. Dana bent down and lifted the edge of the tent to look underneath.
There was Wall Wolf.
The iron golem was on its back with five dwarfs standing around it. Wall Wolf’s right hand was still missing its fingers, but by the look of it not for long. The dwarfs wore brown robes and had the severed fingers on a wood table. They were studying the hand she’d cut them off of. The armor on the right arm was gone up to the elbow, revealing a bewildering array of pipes and cables. Strange runes were cast on the palm of the right hand and the forearm. Dwarfs waved wands and scepters over the runes. The symbols glowed in response.
One dwarf yelled at another and held up one of the damaged fingers. The second dwarf yelled back and pointed at the rune on the palm. They made wild gestures, waving their arms and stomping their feet when they spoke.
One of the dwarfs saw Dana. She winced under the dwarf’s harsh gaze. The dwarf shifted from his own language to human and said, “This isn’t women’s work. Leave.”
For a second Dana didn’t know what to say. Why weren’t the dwarfs attacking her? Then it hit her like a brick: they didn’t know she worked for Jayden. Most people didn’t since she didn’t appear on Jayden’s wanted posters and their steadily growing price on his head. The dwarfs thought she was a peasant girl, maybe a servant.
“Sorry, sir.” Dana ran to the other tent and hurried inside. Once she was back among friends, she said, “Wall Wolf is in the other tent. I saw dwarfs working on him. I think they’re wizards trying to put his fingers back on.”
“That’s not surprising,” Jayden said. He finished cutting through the first bridge, and the two pieces settled on the ice supports Klim had made. “Wall Wolf was built by Golem Works, one of the largest dwarf corporations. The king and queen must have hired them to repair the golem before they send it into battle again. It also explains who destroyed Prince Onus’ crystal ball. Dwarf wizards are experts at building magic items and would have no difficulty destroying one, even at a distance.”
“Can we kill it while it’s lying down?” she begged.
“Bloodthirsty little girl, aren’t you,” Malvel said approvingly.
“It would fight back if attacked,” Jayden replied. His magic whip vanished now that it was through the bridge, and he recast the spell to create another. “You’ll forgive me, but after our last encounter I’ve no desire to renew our acquaintance.”
Dana frowned. “General Kyver the Jerk could send Wall Wolf across the riverbed to attack River Twin even without the bridges to bring in troops.”
“The risk is too great,” Jayden replied. “We’re in a city filled with soldiers and mercenaries. If we fight Wall Wolf those men could come after us.”
Malvel extinguished his magic light and stepped away from the tent flap. “Guards are coming.”
“You’re going to get us whipped and branded,” a man’s voice called out.
“Staying out in the cold any longer could cost us our toes,” another man replied. “If the high and mighty general won’t give us braziers with hot coals, or at least a campfire, then we do what we must to keep from getting frostbite.”
Two soldiers in chain armor opened the tent flaps. The first one had enough time to say, “See, these guys had the same idea. Wait a min—”
Malvel struck the first soldier across the face as Klim blasted the man with a stream of icicles. Jayden created his magic hand and slapped the other soldier to the ground. For just a moment Dana thought they’d done it, but the second man screamed when Jayden struck him again with the hand. Men called out in the distance, and the air filled with whistles and bells.
“I do believe it’s time to leave,” Malvel said.
“Not yet,” Jayden ordered. “Klim, hold them off. Dana, Malvel, do as much damage to the bridges as you can.”
Klim sprayed the ground around the tent with magic ice, forming a slippery layer inches thick. Malvel cast a spell that made his hands glow cherry red. He pressed them against the second bridge and began to melt through the iron plates and burn the wood. Dana drew her sword and swung it at the nearest bridge. She hit an iron plate and had to close her eyes against the shower of sparks the sword made as it cut deep.
“Alarm! Alarm!” a man cried out in the distance. “We’ve got men down by the tents!”
The deepening layer on snow on the ground made it hard to hear the crowd of men coming. Dana had no trouble hearing those men scream and curse as they slipped and fell on the ground Klim had iced over. She saw a man slide by the tent flaps and crash into a building, followed by two more men.
Jayden wrapped his whip around the second bridge. The whip melted through iron plates, but at such a slow rate that he’d never destroy it in time. He looked at Klim and said, “Do we have minutes or seconds?”
Klim formed a wall of ice eight feet tall around the tent. “If we’re only fighting men then we have minutes. If Wall Wolf attacks then even seconds is too much to promise.”
Dana hacked at the bridge, cutting deep grooves through iron and wood. Normally she’d be thrilled at how much damage she was doing, but the bridge was so huge she’d need an hour to destroy it. Malvel’s and Jayden’s attacks sped up the process, but not enough. She glanced at Jayden and asked, “This would be a good time for your fire spell.”
“It takes too long to cast, and we’re so close to the bridge that we’d be caught in the blast.” Jayden’s whip cut through an iron plate that fell to the floor. He looked at her and shouted, “Watch your feet!”
“What?” Dana looked down and screamed. The sprays of sparks her sword made hitting the bridge had ignited sawdust around her. She ran from the growing flames and went to another part of the bridge.
Boom. The snow on the ground did little to conceal the sound of Wall Wolf walking toward them. Dana heard ice crack as Wall Wolf stepped onto the icy sheet around the tent. There was a horrible crunch when the golem broke through the ice wall, sending sharp chunks of ice through the tent that tore it open.
Wall Wolf loomed over them with Kyver Rendmal a step behind it, and behind them a host of soldiers. The golem’s right arm was missing all its fingers and much of its armor. This made it weaker than the first time she’d faced it, but not by much if it had burst through the ice wall so easily.
“You,” Kyver spat. The general still wore his armor, but had exchanged his purple cape for furs. He pointed the control rod for the golem at Jayden. “I’d hoped you would’ve had the decency to die like the mangy dog you are, but here you are again, attacking your own homeland once more. Worse, you make common cause with its enemies, treason by any standard.”
Jayden pulled his whip off the damaged bridge, and his magic hand pointed at Kyver. “You mistake me for someone who has any respect for your opinions. I hope you’re enjoying your stay in Edgeland. It promises to be a long one.”
Kyver’s eyes shifted to the left, where one of his bridges was cut in half and the other had suffered serious damage. “You think you can hold back the full fury of the king’s wrath with this? Fool! It would be easier to drink the ocean dry than to stop this army! Wall Wolf, hear me and obey! Kill Sorcerer Lord Jayden and his allies! Stain the snow red!”
“You remain charming company as always,” Jayden quipped as Wall Wolf stomped toward him. Kyver and his men didn’t follow it, a smart move when the battle between the golem and wizards could spill over onto them. Jayden fell back against one of the bridges and looked to Klim. “This would be an excellent time to leave.”
Klim raised his staff. “I need time to create a magic cloud. Slow the golem down.”
Stopping the sun from rising would have been an easier request. Jayden swung his magic whip and struck Wall Wolf across the face. Malvel hit the golem in the chest with a jet of white-hot fire. Both attacks did nothing. Klim was still casting his spell when Wall Wolf tried to trample the man. Klim gave up on his spell and ran for his life, dodging the golem’s heavy feet by inches.
“Aim for its right arm!” Jayden yelled. He swung his whip and struck the golem’s palm, while Malvel blasted it with more fire. Dana ducked below their attacks and swung her sword at Wall Wolf’s arm. Sparks flew when her blade cut deeply into the unarmored right arm.
If Wall Wolf could feel pain the golem hid it well, pushing onwards without hesitation and nearly stepping on Jayden. He ran along the edge of the damage bridge, dodging a punch that broke through the street near Jayden’s heels.
“Stop! Stop!” The dwarf wizards pushed their way through the crowd of soldiers until they reached Kyver. A dwarf pulled on Kyver’s arm and shouted, “We didn’t finish the repairs!”
Kyver pulled free from the dwarf. “Away from me!”
The dwarf didn’t give up. “With the armor compromised every blow they strike is doing serious damage. You’re pushing up the time and cost of repairing the golem. Send in your men instead.”
Gouts of flame washed over Wall Wolf, followed by a shower of razor sharp icicles and a stinging blow from a black whip. Soldiers saw the golem take hits that would kill even a man in armor, and they flinched when a giant clawed hand punched Wall Wolf in the head.
“Yes, send them in, Kyver,” Jayden taunted. “Maybe burying us in bodies will make up for your poor generalship.”
Wall Wolf pressed on regardless of the damage it was taking. It swung at Jayden, missing again but by a smaller margin. More fire struck it and the damaged arm turned red hot, but instead of retreating it dug its left hand into the street and pulled up a handful of cobblestones. It threw them at Jayden, the mass of stones spreading out as they flew so it was impossible to dodge them all. Three rocks hit Jayden in the chest and stomach, and he staggered from the blows.
“Give me the control rod!” the dwarf shouted. He tried to grab it, but Kyver shoved the dwarf to the ground. “Wall Wolf isn’t under warranty! Think about the bill!”
Wall Wolf grabbed part of the destroyed bridge, and with one hand the golem lifted it over its head before throwing it at Jayden. The golem missed as Jayden leapt to the side, but the heavy timbers and iron plates of the bridge dug a deep furrow into the street. Wall Wolf tried to stomp on Jayden and barely missed.
The golem pulled its left arm back for a punch when Dana ran it and stabbed its right arm. Malvel had blasted it with flame so often that the inner workings of its arm were red hot and softened. Dana’s sword sunk deep into the metal arm, showering her with sparks. Jayden created his black sword and ran in alongside her before he drove his sword in next to hers. Both of them pulled their swords up, hacking off the arm at the elbow. The severed limb fell to the ground with a thud. The runes cast in the limb flashed and sparked before they burst.
The dwarfs looked away in horror. Their leader said, “Insurance isn’t going to cover that.”
Kyver screamed like a child throwing a trantrum. Then his eyes fell on Dana. “You again! Wall Wolf, hear me and obey! Your armor will hold against their attacks. The girl is the only one with a weapon that can hurt you. Kill her first!”
Wall Wolf’s armored head turned to stare at her. It was missing most of an arm, but Kyver was right, the rest of its body was impervious to their attacks. Even Dana’s sword could only do superficial damage. The reverse wasn’t true, and Wall Wolf battered aside a section of the destroyed bridge as it went after her.
“Klim, we need that magic cloud now!” Jayden shouted. He ran along Wall Wolf and hacked at its heels. His magic sword bounced off no matter how many times he hit it. Malvel made his hands turn blazing hot and grabbed Wall Wolf around the left leg. His blazing hands heated the golem’s thick armor but nothing more before the golem kicked him off.
Dana ran from the golem and kept only steps ahead. Running wasn’t going to be an option forever when soldiers surrounded them. If she ran into them they’d cut her down with spears and swords. If she needed a reminder of what would happen if Wall Wolf hit her, she got it when the golem trampled and crushed the piece of the wooden bridge it had thrown at Jayden.
Which, oddly enough, gave her an idea.
“Let it come after me!” she shouted to the others as she headed for the second bridge. She, Jayden and Malvel had damaged this one, but not seriously enough to put it out of commission. Dana ran to the bridge and scurried under it.
Wall Wolf caught up with her and raised its left arm high into the air before swinging it straight down. Dana screamed when the huge fist came through the bridge a foot away from her. She crawled along the bridge as Wall Wolf punched one hole after another through it trying to get her.
“Wait, stop!” Kyver yelled. “I said kill the girl, not destroy the bridge!”
“Order it to come back to us while we both still have something left to salvage!” a dwarf begged Kyver.
“Wall Wolf, hear me and obey! Return to my side!”
Wall Wolf had its remaining arm raised for an attack, but at its master’s orders it halted and turned away from Dana. It raised a foot to take a step away from her, and that’s when all three wizards attacked. Klim encased the golem’s head in a block of ice four feet thick. Jayden used his giant magic hand to grab the golem’s heel and pull, toppling it over. The ice block shattered when the golem hit the ground. Malvel blasted the golem in the head with magic flames, and the metal made a pinging sound as it changed from extreme cold to intense heat.
Dana was still on her knees underneath what was left of the second bridge when the golem landed beside her, its armored head so close she could touch it. Wall Wolf’s head looked like a knight’s helmet, complete with visor and eye slits, and as she looked inside those narrow openings she saw runes cast in the metal within. Wall Wolf had similar runes on the arm they’d cut off it. Dana didn’t understand magic, but it looked like those runes were important to it somehow, a weakness concealed under armor thick enough to protect them.
Wall Wolf was struggling to get up with its one arm when Dana got out from beneath the bridge and ran straight at it. For a second its head was level with her, and she stabbed her sword through the visor and into the rune.
Wall Wolf rose to its feet and thrashed about wildly. Dana held onto her sword and was pulled up with it. She struggled to hold on as the golem staggered about and swung its left arm in the air. It seemed to go into seizures, shaking uncontrollably as the rune inside its head sparked and burst. There were more explosions inside its body, some strong enough to blast off pieces of armor and reveal more runes sparking and bursting. Dana screamed when Wall Wolf went stiff and fell over backwards. She lost her grip and fell next to it, nearly hitting the unforgiving ground before Jayden caught her.
“That seemed like such a good idea in my head,” she gasped.
Jayden set her on her feet and pulled her sword out of Wall Wolf. The golem laid silent, smoke rising from it. He returned her sword and said, “I can’t imagine how it could have gone better.”
There was a stunned silence from the soldiers surrounding them. Men backed up. A few even dropped their weapons. Kyver stared at Wall Wolf, too shocked to scream threats or insults.
One of the dwarf’s pointed at Dana’s sword. “That’s Thume Breakbones’ workmanship. I’d recognize it anywhere.” His face twisted in rage, the dwarf screamed, “I’ll kill him!”
“Klim, we haven’t got long before they regain their courage and attack,” Jayden said. “We need to leave.”
“Done and done.” Klim created a magic cloud under their feet and carried Dana, Jayden, Malvel and himself away.
“Archers!” Kyver screamed. “Get me my archers!”
The order came too late. Dana saw men scurrying below as the cloud went ever higher into the sky. A few men managed to notch arrows to their bows, but darkness and snowfall ruined any chance they had to see their targets, much less hit them.
“That is an impressive weapon,” Klim said as he guided the cloud. “Wherever did you find it?”
“That’s a long story,” Dana said. She studied her sword for a moment before sheathing it. The weapon had lived up to the promises Thume had made months before. Wall Wolf, guardian of the royal family for generations, a terror no one had even scratched, lay dead. Well, as dead as a golem could be. Maybe her sword did deserve a name.
Rematch part 1
This is the first part of the story Rematch.
********
“Join us for a drink, sorcerer lord,” a farmer offered. The inn was full with men eager to celebrate now that Kaleoth was no longer in imminent danger.
Jayden held up a full cup for the man and his friends to see. “I’m already well supplied, thank you.”
The farmer laughed. “Then join us for another drink!”
Dana was used to traveling unnoticed with Jayden, no surprise when he was a wanted criminal in their homeland. They’d stayed well clear of major cities and traveled on half-forgotten roads between small towns to ramshackle cities like Fish Bait that had degenerated into slums. Seeing such poverty and desperation in the kingdom had been an eye-opening experience for her. This made being cheered and cherished in the Kaleoth city of River Twin almost bewildering.
Jayden and Dana had destroyed the bridge to Kaleoth with great difficulty, and Jayden had nearly died in the process. Great as the risk had been, they’d done the deed before an army from their homeland could invade. That had won them great respect in River Twin, and they’d been treated like celebrities in the month they’d stayed here.
“Hail and well met, sorcerer,” a spearman said as he entered The Moody Muse inn. Such welcomes were common ever since Dana, Maya and Jayden had settled in the inn for the winter. Such a long stay was expensive, but Jayden had gold enough to cover the cost. That had only increased his popularity, since paying customers were rare in these parts.
Jayden raised a drink in toast to the spearman. He’d been nursing the same drink all night as he sat at the back corner of the inn’s common room. Thirty other people shared the room and kept warm by a roaring fire. The innkeeper kept drinks flowing and served hot food. Business was good, and in Jayden’s case a little too good.
“Kind sir, merciful and benevolent one, I beseech your aid,” a middle-aged man said as he sat across from Jayden. “Word reached me how you thwarted the invasion of my homeland. Surely one who can do such a mighty deed can help a humble man in need.”
“Merciful?” Jayden asked Dana. “When did that word ever apply to me?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard it used to describe you.”
The man pressed his case. “My eldest daughter Elsa fled home in the arms of a rapscallion of the worst kind. He seduced her with honeyed words and promises of adventure and riches. Already they flee for distant lands, taking with them her dowry and a horse I’ll admit to being a nag. Surely one so great as yourself can bring Elsa back and punish this rogue.”
Jayden set down his drink and looked at Dana. “Does this sound like the sort of thing I should be interested in, but aren’t?”
Dana didn’t look up from her dinner. “Yes.”
“It’s strange how often that happens.”
Outraged, the man sputtered, “B-but sir! How can you leave my beloved daughter in the hands of such a man?”
“Because I’ve been called a rogue, villain, blackguard, backstabber, thief, betrayer and so on for years. Honestly, you’ve never heard the stories about me?”
“I thought you’d turned over a new leaf,” the man suggested.
“Sadly, no.” Jayden took another sip from his drink. “I wish the young couple every happiness and success.”
Disheartened, the man left Jayden’s table and rejoined the crowd. Dana finished her meal and made a mark on a sheet of paper. “That’s three today, fifteen this week and eighty overall requests for your help, every one of which you’ve turned down. Have you considered renting a house outside city limits? It might cut down on the number of people trying to hire you.”
“In my experience it actually makes the problem worse.”
“How is that possible?”
“Men become bolder when there are no witnesses to their deeds,” Jayden explained. “There are a limitless number of people in this city who could use my help, but they wouldn’t dare ask when neighbors can hear the requests. It’s shameful for most men to ask for help. Besides, it’s cold out, and I wouldn’t want anyone to fall sick coming to find me when the answer is going to be no.”
“I know we have money, but we could take a few paying jobs. It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do until your ‘friend’ comes back, and it would help the people of River Twin.”
Jayden frowned and looked out a nearby window, where an early snow drifted down in thick flakes. “I want to return home as soon as possible. The more I become embroiled in local affairs the harder it’s going to be to leave when I owe debts and favors to locals. Better to make a hasty exit once the scout I hired returns with news of where we can safely cross the river.”
Another man forced his way through the crowd and sat at Jayden’s table. “Heroic sorcerer, you have already sacrificed much for our city.”
“Yet I imagine you’re going to ask for more,” Jayden said dryly.
“Winter has come to Kaleoth, making travel difficult and dangerous. The invasion you prevented means frontier soldiers we once relied on are manning the defenses in case the invaders attack again. Honest men dare not travel far when threats abound.”
The man unrolled a map on the table. “Caravans running between River Twin and the capital are in danger from wolves, bandits and monsters coming down from the mountains. Few men dare travel even with protection, and none without it. That makes this an irresistible opportunity for the canny investor.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Dana asked.
“A hundred gold coins invested in such a caravan can bring in a handsome return of a hundred fifty once it safely reaches its destination. A forty-wagon caravan is preparing to head out and is selling shares at a premium to men with the cash and the courage to back up their gold. How can you say no to a chance at riches?”
Jayden set down his drink. “Easily. No.”
“You’re a hard bargainer, so I’ll raise the offer to a hundred fifty plus first pick of the loot and bounties from anyone you defeat,” the man said. “We might not even get attacked, making you a healthy profit for sitting on the back of a wagon. Plus, your reputation might make regional tax collectors think twice about asking us to pay tolls.”
“Out!” Dana yelled at him. When the man opened his mouth, Dana asked, “Do you want to see an angry sorcerer lord? Scoot.”
“Protecting my reputation?” Jayden asked with a wry smile.
Dana pointed at him. “You’re already a wanted criminal in one kingdom. I don’t want to make it two.”
Their conversation ended when Maya joined them with a large wood board. The plucky young woman smiled as she approached Jayden, and she blushed a little. “This might keep people from pestering you so much. Here you go, let me set this next to your table.”
Dana looked at the board that Maya had painted with skulls and crossbones, plus what looked like charred bodies. The words ‘Do not bother the wizard’ were written in red paint across the top, with ‘or else…’ along the bottom. Dana frowned. “That’s not the kind of message we want to send.”
“Good use of shading,” Jayden said. Dana elbowed him in the ribs.
Just then a smiling man in a tacky suit marched up and placed both hands on their table. “Have I got a business proposition for you!”
Maya jabbed a finger at her sign. “Do you not see this?”
“A good businessman lets nothing get between him and other people’s money,” the man said proudly.
“Even pain?” Jayden asked.
“Why would that—yeouch!” The man hopped off while grabbing his right foot.
Dana put a hand over her face. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“He’ll recover,” Jayden replied. He smiled at Maya, making her blush again. The poor woman had spent a month with Dana and Jayden since she’d helped save his life, and she was every bit as smitten with him as when they’d first met. “You seem to be settling in well.”
“I know fellow orphans raised by Baron Vrask who settled in River Twin,” she explained. “They’re helping me a lot. One girl showed me where to buy paints and canvas, and another introduced me to shopkeepers who need new signs. It’s not great work, but it’s a start.”
Jayden’s smile faded when he asked, “Have you been able to find permanent accommodations?”
“No, but I’m looking. So many people came over from Edgeland before you destroyed the bridge that there’s not enough housing. Most of the refugees are renting rooms, and a few are making their own homes or fixing ruined buildings. There’s not much space to live outside of my room in this inn.” Maya looked down, her face flushing red in embarrassment. “My room that you’re paying for.”
“And I will continue to pay for it as long as necessary,” he told her. “When I destroyed the bridge, I forced the enemy army to camp in your home city instead of marching through it, making Edgeland dangerous for young women such as yourself. You’re homeless because of me, and I will do right by you no matter the cost.”
Maya blushed again. “Thank you.”
The inn’s door opened and a man bundled up against the cold hurried in. Jayden stood up when the man came to his table and waved to the innkeeper. “A hot meal and a drink for this man, at my expense.”
The innkeeper set down a plate of roast fish and dumplings, and watched in astonishment as the man devoured the meal so quickly it looked like he might choke. Jayden glanced at the innkeeper and said, “Another course appears to be in order.”
Once the innkeeper left, Jayden leaned across the table. “Ibrin, good man and talented scout, what news do you have?”
“Uniformly bad,” the scout said. “I checked bridges and low places on Racehorse River within ten days travel both north and south. Most bridges are gone, destroyed by Kaleoth frontier soldiers to keep back the invaders. The two left standing are under heavy guard on both sides of the river. No man could cross them without being cut down before he went halfway.”
“How strong are the forces on the opposite side of the river?” Jayden pressed him.
“Five or six hundred strong with heavy support by archers.” The discussion ended when the innkeeper brought a second plate of food. Ibrin ate more slowly this time, getting a few words out between mouthfuls of food. “The few low spots on the river that could be crossed are under even heavier guard. Kaleoth frontier soldiers brought in ogres to help hold the line, and enemy forces brought cavalry and ballista. Both sides built field fortifications, wood forts, barricades, ditches and walls. I’m sorry to say this after you paid me good money for the job, but the only way a man is going to cross that river is if he can fly, and with so many archers even that is risky.”
Jayden slouched in his chair. “The news you bring is valuable regardless if you brought the answer I wanted to hear or not.”
Ibrin finished his food and nodded to Jayden. “You’re a better man than most to say that. I wish you well, sir, and pray you find what you’re looking for. It may not be my place to say this, but if you can’t go home, you’ll find Kaleoth is glad to have you.”
With his job done the scout left the inn. Jayden brooded at his table with a foul look on his face that kept further petitioners back. Dana tried to console him, saying, “You can do good in Kaleoth. Fighting could start up again in spring, and the enemy army still has Wall Wolf.”
“All the more reason to leave,” Jayden said. “I can do more to stop the invasion on the other side of the border than here. Excuse me, I need time alone.”
Jayden got up and left. Maya looked at Dana, who said, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Dana followed Jayden out of the inn and to the snowy outskirts of River Twin. They were close enough to see the destroyed bridge brought down on both sides so only the center portion remained. Cooking fires from thousands of enemy soldiers lit up Edgeland in the dark. Both sides of the river now boasted complex wood and stone fortifications manned by crack troops, an intimidating obstacle even to the world’s only sorcerer lord.
Once he was far from the city, Jayden stopped beneath a large old oak and cast a spell. Dana watched shadows swirl together to form a giant clawed hand as big as a man. The hand hovered with the palm flat and the fingers stretched out. He stood there for long minutes doing nothing until the hand began to tremble and then smoke. Bit by bit it boiled away until nothing remained.
“Five minutes,” Jayden said morosely.
“I’ve noticed you practicing that spell a lot this week.”
“The spell could ferry us across the river, but it moves too slowly and ends to quickly to make the journey safely. We could stand on the hand as it carried us, but we’d be floating targets for enemy archers. If we crossed far from enemy forces we would also be far from roads and settlements, not a safe course of action during winter.”
Dana thought about what the scout Ibrin had said. “How high can you make the hand fly?”
“I’ve never gotten it to go over fifty feet,” Jayden reported. “Sorcerer lords of old could make magic wings, but it’s a spell I’ve never found. I’m told the spell doesn’t grant users the innate knowledge of how to fly, which in ancient times killed more than a few sorcerer lord apprentices.”
Jayden turned to face her, frustration growing in his voice. “Fighting that enemy army would be ruinous even if Kaleoth soldiers won, but I could drive them off by ambushing supply caravans bringing those men food. They’d have to retreat after they went a month without nourishment. It’s a task I could do better than most and would save thousands of lives. Instead I find myself marooned here.”
“Surrounded by people who love you for saving their lives,” Dana reminded him.
“It’s a pleasant exile, I admit, but an exile nonetheless.” Jayden glared at the enemy troops across the river. “My greatest nightmare has come true, proof that all my efforts up to this point didn’t prevent the king and queen from attacking neighboring nations, and here I stand unable to do anything. I despise feeling helpless.”
“Welcome to how the rest of us feel,” Dana told him. “Most people see huge events like this happening and can’t do a thing to stop them. We just have to keep our heads down and hope the storm passes.”
“More is expected of a sorcerer,” Jayden said.
“And from a prince, I get that, but you’re just one man. Jayden, none of the spells I’ve seen you use can stop an army or make you invulnerable. That iron golem Wall Wolf nearly killed you, and after almost dying you’re chomping at the bit for another fight.”
“That’s because the people of Kaleoth are still in danger.” Jayden pointed at the opposing army. “Armies don’t fight in winter if they can help it, so our foes are likely quartered in Edgeland until spring, but in my heart I fear the worst. These soldiers could have been deployed elsewhere now that they know the advantage of surprise is lost and there is no easy path to Kaleoth, yet they remain. I despise the king and queen, but I don’t doubt their abilities. Those men are here for a reason, one I don’t understand, and the longer they stay the more time they have to put their plan in effect.”
Dana took him by the arm. “Come on, there’s nothing more we can do tonight.”
“I doubt morning will bring new insights, but if nothing else tonight may have some value.” Jayden selected two short branches off the ground and tossed one to her. “On guard.”
“You gave me a fencing lesson this morning.” Jayden had made sword fighting a daily routine. Dana didn’t complain when she needed the practice if she was ever going to use her magic sword to its full potential.
“I’m giving you another one. The warrior who sweats before battle doesn’t bleed during it.”
Dana took the improvised sword and dueled Jayden. She thought she did well, or at least walked away without bruises this time. When they were done she was overheated and exhausted. “You’re teaching me how to fight. Who taught you?”
Jayden tossed his branch down. “The captain of the guard. He was the best swordsman in the kingdom, and I begged him day and night to teach me.”
Dreading the answer, Dana asked, “What happened to him? I didn’t see him when I saw those memories of your youth.”
“The king and queen discharged him for drinking, womanizing and speaking his mind whether or not anyone asked for his opinions. He moved to Zentrix Kingdom, where he continues to drink, womanize, speak his mind and teach swordsmanship to young men of limited means.” Jayden smiled. “Men of influence in Zentrix despise him while the common folk adore him, so little has changed besides his address.”
“There’s got to be a line of men at the inn trying to get your help. We need to send them home or else they’ll badger you until morning.”
Dana led Jayden back to River Twin. They’d nearly reached The Moody Muse when Jayden pulled her to a halt. “Why is Maya waiting outside the inn?”
Maya stood shivering in the cold by the inn’s front door. When she saw them, she ran over and grabbed Jayden’s hands. “There’s a scary looking man waiting for you inside. He says he wants to talk with you. I told him you weren’t taking job offers, and he said you’re going to take his. He told me to get you, and when I said I didn’t know where you’d gone he said not to come back without you. I looked and looked, but you two weren’t at any of the places I checked, and I was scared to go back into the inn alone.”
Jayden scowled. “Dana, I think I’m going to damage my good reputation in Kaleoth.”
Jayden marched into the inn with Dana and Maya following him. Maya pointed at a man in a dark cloak standing at the table where Jayden had been seated earlier. He was armed with a sword still in its sheath, but the man wore simple leather clothes instead of armor. Jayden headed straight for the stranger, stopping ten feet away and resting his hands on the back of a nearby chair.
“I take a dim view of people abusing my friends, and that includes ordering one into the cold as if she was your servant,” Jayden snarled. Nearby patrons backed away and the innkeeper ducked behind his bar. The stranger turned to look at Jayden. Looking angrier than normal, Jayden said, “I ask for neither thanks nor reward from your people for what I did, but expecting basic civility shouldn’t be too much.”
“Dark times demand different behavior of men,” the stranger said, his voice betraying no fear. “My master would have words with you outside.”
“Then by all means, invite him in,” Jayden countered. “I wouldn’t want him to catch cold.”
“He wishes to discuss matters with you in private.”
Jayden didn’t budge. “I care precious little who your master is or what he wants of me. You may have noticed a rather colorful sign by the table you’re standing at. The message is succinct and less of an exaggeration than you’d think. I am seconds away from inflicting serious injuries on you, and let the consequences be what they may.”
The stranger approached him and took a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. He tossed it to Jayden, who caught the paper, unfolded it and stared at it for a moment before burning it in a nearby lantern. Jayden glared at the stranger. “This is going to cost you.”
“My master brought enough money.”
“I meant personally,” Jayden said a second before he punched the man below the belt. Men winced in sympathy as the stranger fell to the floor. Jayden headed for the door and said, “Dana, Maya, we have to deal with this. As for you, errand boy, come when you’re able.”
“The invitation is only for you,” the stranger croaked.
“Obedience isn’t my one of my strengths.”
Jayden left the inn with Dana and Maya, and then headed to a nearby house guarded by four heavily armored knights. The knights parted when Jayden approached, granting entrance to a small room with a table, four chairs and three men.
“I appreciate your coming, especially on short notice,” one of the men said. He was a youth of roughly twenty years, handsome and well dressed in furs. His hair was dark brown and trimmed short. He had a warm, sincere voice, and an expression of relief at seeing Jayden. That look was soon replaced with concern when he asked, “Special Agent Ulem was supposed to guide you here.”
“Special Agent Ulem showed shocking disrespect for my friends, the sort of behavior I’d expect from thugs and bandits. He’ll be along once he can stand.”
The other two men tensed at this news and stepped forward. Both wore the gray and green robes of Kaleoth wizards, and their staffs were black oak set with jewels. The youth waved them back, and did the same when the knights outside looked in.
“King Brent is going to be disappointed,” the youth said. “I keep telling him I can handle myself, and he keeps sending men to guide me as if I was a child. I apologize for any offense given and trust you won’t prevent it from hearing my offer.”
Jayden folded his arms across his chest. “Pray tell, what does a prince want with a wanted criminal?”
Dana gasped. Maya pointed at the youth and asked, “You’re Prince Onus?”
The prince bowed. “The one, the only, the poorly named. I wish we could have met under better conditions, but for security reasons I travel as quietly as possible. The king and queen may have spies in the city who could attack me if they knew I was here. It forces me to use intermediaries whenever possible, sometimes men who are better skilled in battle than in negotiations. And in regards to your status as a wanted man, the bounties on your head have never applied in Kaleoth.”
“Charming,” Jayden said. “I’m surprised King Brent would risk his only surviving heir by sending him to a city in peril.”
“I come because of River Twin’s peril,” Prince Onus replied. “Kaleoth has only four cities, none larger than River Twin. We can’t afford to lose it, especially if doing so opens up the rest of the kingdom to invasion. If River Twin falls then Kaleoth falls with it.”
Jayden didn’t respond or unfold his arms. Prince Onus pulled out the chairs and offered them. “I had heard you didn’t travel alone any longer. Please, allow me to offer some hospitality in such dark times.”
“Interesting that you should use the expression ‘dark times’,” Jayden said as he sat down. “Your agent used it as an excuse.”
Prince Onus winced as if struck. “My apologies. Some men use their high positions like a club.”
Jayden didn’t look impressed. “Your letter, which I burned according to your written instructions, claimed you needed my services in the defense of the kingdom. Save both my time and yours by skipping ahead to the job you need done so badly.”
“Reports of your lack of tack are clearly true, but given your experiences I suppose it’s not surprising.” Prince Onus offered chairs to Dana and Maya before sitting down. “Enemy forces remain at the border, curious when there is no way across. Racehorse River runs too fast to freeze over or for boats to cross, and rebuilding the bridge while under fire from Kaleoth troops is impossible. Grandfather believes the enemy still seeks to invade, and I proved him correct.”
The prince tossed a cracked crystal ball with a bronze stand onto the table. “It cost the only crystal ball in the kingdom, but before it was destroyed by an interceptor spell it showed enemy forces building two mobile drawbridges inside Edgeland. The first is forty feet long, the second equally long but not as wide, and both are mounted on wheels. I believe the enemy intends to set one across the gap to the remaining bridge section and use the second bridge to cover the remaining distance to the riverbank. Once that’s done they can march soldiers across. They still have Wall Wolf, maimed by your assistant but still standing. The only blessing in this matter is that Wall Wolf is undoubtedly too heavy to cross these makeshift bridges.”
“It won’t have to,” Jayden told the prince. “Racehorse River runs fast, but Wall Wolf’s great weight means the river can’t wash the golem downstream. The enemy general Kyver Rendmal will likely send Wall Wolf in first by walking across the bottom of the river and then attack your troops. The enemy army will bridge the river while your forces are occupied.”
“That’s my feeling as well. Grandfather is calling upon aid from the Guild of Heroes, the Brotherhood of the Righteous, the Servants of the Cause, the Square Pegs, anyone who might listen. He even asked for help from the Yelinid Banking Cartel.”
“Why would bankers fight a war?” Dana asked.
The two wizards looked surprised that she’d spoke, but the prince didn’t seem to be bothered. “Dead men don’t pay back loans, and conquerors don’t honor the debts of their enemies. If Yelinid expects to ever see the money we borrowed from them, they have to keep us alive.”
“How soon until these bridge sections are completed?” Jayden asked the prince.
“The last image from the crystal ball showed the first section was finished and the second nearly done. I need those bridges destroyed before they can be deployed, a difficult request when they’re made from some of the largest trees I’ve seen. Such thick timbers won’t burn easily, and green wood from freshly felled trees even less so.”
“You have two wizards,” Dana pointed out. “Why do you need three?”
Prince Onus waved at his wizards. “Malvel is a fire wizard, and Klim understands water and wind magic. Both are talented and brave, but by their own admissions aren’t powerful. My original plan was for Klim to create a magic cloud and fly the two of them over, then have Malvel set the bridges on fire. It would have placed them in great danger while offering little chance of success, but having a sorcerer lord improves the odds.”
Prince Onus looked nervous when he said, “It may surprise you that grandfather’s spies developed a lengthy file on you, Jayden, including eyewitness evidence of the spells you have cast in the past.”
“Should I feel honored or paranoid?” Jayden asked.
“Both,” the prince replied. “Grandfather keeps files on anyone who might be a valuable ally or enemy. His file showed considerable evidence of your hatred for the king and queen of your homeland, if not the reason why, so you were listed as a possible friend in time of need. As for paranoia, that’s a healthy trait to cultivate.”
The prince looked at Dana. He was cute, close to her age, and good God did the man sound sincere. She could feel herself blushing.
“Our file mentioned the young lady, but not her name or the magic sword she used to cripple Wall Wolf. Please, may I see it?”
“No,” Jayden said.
“It’s my sword,” she reminded him. Dana gave the sword to Prince Onus. The prince drew it and marveled at the blade before sheathing it and returning it to Dana.
“Impressive. Grandfather’s spies keep a close eye on powerful magic items in the region in case they are used against us. I’m surprised I’d never heard of this weapon before. Is it named?”
“I didn’t know people named weapons,” Dana admitted.
“It’s a guy thing,” Jayden told her.
“It might be the right tool for the job, even if it’s not what I had in mind,” Prince Onus said. “I’m told you can create a black whip that melts through nearly anything.”
“Technically it ages through them, but I see your point,” Jayden replied. “The whip won’t attract attention with light and smoke the way your fire wizard’s spells would. We could get in, cut through the bridges with my magic whip and leave unnoticed, but it would buy less time than you’d think. Kyver could replace anything we destroy.”
“Not easily.” The prince held up his ruined crystal ball again. “Prior to this war, the resident nobleman Baron Vrask had his people harvest timber to cover high taxes imposed on him. The largest trees were cut down long ago. We saw enemy soldiers searching high and low for the trees for their bridges, using up the best trees in the process. Using smaller trees less suited for the task will still take a month or longer. That could be long enough for grandfather to summon help. If nothing else there might be deep snow that would slow down another attack.”
“Your plan puts my life in great danger,” Jayden pointed out.
“I realize what I’m asking. I don’t know what your grievance is against your own king and queen, even if I share your dislike of them. This is a chance to hurt them and save good men. Naturally I’m offering pay proportional to the risk.”
Shocking everyone in the room, Jayden said, “I don’t want it.”
There was a stunned silence in the room, broken when Prince Onus said, “I didn’t see this coming.”
“You need the money here,” Jayden told him. “I need to get back into my home kingdom if I’m to do any good. Once I’ve done this for you, Klim is to make a magic clouds and take me anywhere I want to go, no questions, no limits. Those are my terms.”
Prince Onus looked at Klim, who nodded. “It’s a deal. Klim tells me there’s a storm coming tomorrow night. That will be the best chance for the three of you to infiltrate the enemy city.”
Jayden got up to leave. “That’s enough time to finish my business here. Prince, meeting you has been more of a pleasure than I’d expected, and I respect your ignoring how abusive I can be. Few have that skill.”
The prince smiled. “Years living under my grandfather’s rule have given me a thick skin. I’m grateful you accepted, even if grandfather was sure we could count on you.” The prince’s brow furrowed for a moment before he said, “Grandfather is normally quite clever, especially for a man of his advanced years, but when I told him I was going to enlist your aid he said something that didn’t make sense.”
“What might that be?” Jayden asked.
“He said you take after your mother in every way that matters, which makes no sense when no one knows your parentage.”
Jayden was silent for a moment. “You needn’t worry that your grandfather’s wits are slipping. His mind is only sharpening with age, and he paid me a compliment. I bid you good evening. Dana, Maya, come.”
********
“Join us for a drink, sorcerer lord,” a farmer offered. The inn was full with men eager to celebrate now that Kaleoth was no longer in imminent danger.
Jayden held up a full cup for the man and his friends to see. “I’m already well supplied, thank you.”
The farmer laughed. “Then join us for another drink!”
Dana was used to traveling unnoticed with Jayden, no surprise when he was a wanted criminal in their homeland. They’d stayed well clear of major cities and traveled on half-forgotten roads between small towns to ramshackle cities like Fish Bait that had degenerated into slums. Seeing such poverty and desperation in the kingdom had been an eye-opening experience for her. This made being cheered and cherished in the Kaleoth city of River Twin almost bewildering.
Jayden and Dana had destroyed the bridge to Kaleoth with great difficulty, and Jayden had nearly died in the process. Great as the risk had been, they’d done the deed before an army from their homeland could invade. That had won them great respect in River Twin, and they’d been treated like celebrities in the month they’d stayed here.
“Hail and well met, sorcerer,” a spearman said as he entered The Moody Muse inn. Such welcomes were common ever since Dana, Maya and Jayden had settled in the inn for the winter. Such a long stay was expensive, but Jayden had gold enough to cover the cost. That had only increased his popularity, since paying customers were rare in these parts.
Jayden raised a drink in toast to the spearman. He’d been nursing the same drink all night as he sat at the back corner of the inn’s common room. Thirty other people shared the room and kept warm by a roaring fire. The innkeeper kept drinks flowing and served hot food. Business was good, and in Jayden’s case a little too good.
“Kind sir, merciful and benevolent one, I beseech your aid,” a middle-aged man said as he sat across from Jayden. “Word reached me how you thwarted the invasion of my homeland. Surely one who can do such a mighty deed can help a humble man in need.”
“Merciful?” Jayden asked Dana. “When did that word ever apply to me?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard it used to describe you.”
The man pressed his case. “My eldest daughter Elsa fled home in the arms of a rapscallion of the worst kind. He seduced her with honeyed words and promises of adventure and riches. Already they flee for distant lands, taking with them her dowry and a horse I’ll admit to being a nag. Surely one so great as yourself can bring Elsa back and punish this rogue.”
Jayden set down his drink and looked at Dana. “Does this sound like the sort of thing I should be interested in, but aren’t?”
Dana didn’t look up from her dinner. “Yes.”
“It’s strange how often that happens.”
Outraged, the man sputtered, “B-but sir! How can you leave my beloved daughter in the hands of such a man?”
“Because I’ve been called a rogue, villain, blackguard, backstabber, thief, betrayer and so on for years. Honestly, you’ve never heard the stories about me?”
“I thought you’d turned over a new leaf,” the man suggested.
“Sadly, no.” Jayden took another sip from his drink. “I wish the young couple every happiness and success.”
Disheartened, the man left Jayden’s table and rejoined the crowd. Dana finished her meal and made a mark on a sheet of paper. “That’s three today, fifteen this week and eighty overall requests for your help, every one of which you’ve turned down. Have you considered renting a house outside city limits? It might cut down on the number of people trying to hire you.”
“In my experience it actually makes the problem worse.”
“How is that possible?”
“Men become bolder when there are no witnesses to their deeds,” Jayden explained. “There are a limitless number of people in this city who could use my help, but they wouldn’t dare ask when neighbors can hear the requests. It’s shameful for most men to ask for help. Besides, it’s cold out, and I wouldn’t want anyone to fall sick coming to find me when the answer is going to be no.”
“I know we have money, but we could take a few paying jobs. It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do until your ‘friend’ comes back, and it would help the people of River Twin.”
Jayden frowned and looked out a nearby window, where an early snow drifted down in thick flakes. “I want to return home as soon as possible. The more I become embroiled in local affairs the harder it’s going to be to leave when I owe debts and favors to locals. Better to make a hasty exit once the scout I hired returns with news of where we can safely cross the river.”
Another man forced his way through the crowd and sat at Jayden’s table. “Heroic sorcerer, you have already sacrificed much for our city.”
“Yet I imagine you’re going to ask for more,” Jayden said dryly.
“Winter has come to Kaleoth, making travel difficult and dangerous. The invasion you prevented means frontier soldiers we once relied on are manning the defenses in case the invaders attack again. Honest men dare not travel far when threats abound.”
The man unrolled a map on the table. “Caravans running between River Twin and the capital are in danger from wolves, bandits and monsters coming down from the mountains. Few men dare travel even with protection, and none without it. That makes this an irresistible opportunity for the canny investor.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Dana asked.
“A hundred gold coins invested in such a caravan can bring in a handsome return of a hundred fifty once it safely reaches its destination. A forty-wagon caravan is preparing to head out and is selling shares at a premium to men with the cash and the courage to back up their gold. How can you say no to a chance at riches?”
Jayden set down his drink. “Easily. No.”
“You’re a hard bargainer, so I’ll raise the offer to a hundred fifty plus first pick of the loot and bounties from anyone you defeat,” the man said. “We might not even get attacked, making you a healthy profit for sitting on the back of a wagon. Plus, your reputation might make regional tax collectors think twice about asking us to pay tolls.”
“Out!” Dana yelled at him. When the man opened his mouth, Dana asked, “Do you want to see an angry sorcerer lord? Scoot.”
“Protecting my reputation?” Jayden asked with a wry smile.
Dana pointed at him. “You’re already a wanted criminal in one kingdom. I don’t want to make it two.”
Their conversation ended when Maya joined them with a large wood board. The plucky young woman smiled as she approached Jayden, and she blushed a little. “This might keep people from pestering you so much. Here you go, let me set this next to your table.”
Dana looked at the board that Maya had painted with skulls and crossbones, plus what looked like charred bodies. The words ‘Do not bother the wizard’ were written in red paint across the top, with ‘or else…’ along the bottom. Dana frowned. “That’s not the kind of message we want to send.”
“Good use of shading,” Jayden said. Dana elbowed him in the ribs.
Just then a smiling man in a tacky suit marched up and placed both hands on their table. “Have I got a business proposition for you!”
Maya jabbed a finger at her sign. “Do you not see this?”
“A good businessman lets nothing get between him and other people’s money,” the man said proudly.
“Even pain?” Jayden asked.
“Why would that—yeouch!” The man hopped off while grabbing his right foot.
Dana put a hand over her face. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“He’ll recover,” Jayden replied. He smiled at Maya, making her blush again. The poor woman had spent a month with Dana and Jayden since she’d helped save his life, and she was every bit as smitten with him as when they’d first met. “You seem to be settling in well.”
“I know fellow orphans raised by Baron Vrask who settled in River Twin,” she explained. “They’re helping me a lot. One girl showed me where to buy paints and canvas, and another introduced me to shopkeepers who need new signs. It’s not great work, but it’s a start.”
Jayden’s smile faded when he asked, “Have you been able to find permanent accommodations?”
“No, but I’m looking. So many people came over from Edgeland before you destroyed the bridge that there’s not enough housing. Most of the refugees are renting rooms, and a few are making their own homes or fixing ruined buildings. There’s not much space to live outside of my room in this inn.” Maya looked down, her face flushing red in embarrassment. “My room that you’re paying for.”
“And I will continue to pay for it as long as necessary,” he told her. “When I destroyed the bridge, I forced the enemy army to camp in your home city instead of marching through it, making Edgeland dangerous for young women such as yourself. You’re homeless because of me, and I will do right by you no matter the cost.”
Maya blushed again. “Thank you.”
The inn’s door opened and a man bundled up against the cold hurried in. Jayden stood up when the man came to his table and waved to the innkeeper. “A hot meal and a drink for this man, at my expense.”
The innkeeper set down a plate of roast fish and dumplings, and watched in astonishment as the man devoured the meal so quickly it looked like he might choke. Jayden glanced at the innkeeper and said, “Another course appears to be in order.”
Once the innkeeper left, Jayden leaned across the table. “Ibrin, good man and talented scout, what news do you have?”
“Uniformly bad,” the scout said. “I checked bridges and low places on Racehorse River within ten days travel both north and south. Most bridges are gone, destroyed by Kaleoth frontier soldiers to keep back the invaders. The two left standing are under heavy guard on both sides of the river. No man could cross them without being cut down before he went halfway.”
“How strong are the forces on the opposite side of the river?” Jayden pressed him.
“Five or six hundred strong with heavy support by archers.” The discussion ended when the innkeeper brought a second plate of food. Ibrin ate more slowly this time, getting a few words out between mouthfuls of food. “The few low spots on the river that could be crossed are under even heavier guard. Kaleoth frontier soldiers brought in ogres to help hold the line, and enemy forces brought cavalry and ballista. Both sides built field fortifications, wood forts, barricades, ditches and walls. I’m sorry to say this after you paid me good money for the job, but the only way a man is going to cross that river is if he can fly, and with so many archers even that is risky.”
Jayden slouched in his chair. “The news you bring is valuable regardless if you brought the answer I wanted to hear or not.”
Ibrin finished his food and nodded to Jayden. “You’re a better man than most to say that. I wish you well, sir, and pray you find what you’re looking for. It may not be my place to say this, but if you can’t go home, you’ll find Kaleoth is glad to have you.”
With his job done the scout left the inn. Jayden brooded at his table with a foul look on his face that kept further petitioners back. Dana tried to console him, saying, “You can do good in Kaleoth. Fighting could start up again in spring, and the enemy army still has Wall Wolf.”
“All the more reason to leave,” Jayden said. “I can do more to stop the invasion on the other side of the border than here. Excuse me, I need time alone.”
Jayden got up and left. Maya looked at Dana, who said, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Dana followed Jayden out of the inn and to the snowy outskirts of River Twin. They were close enough to see the destroyed bridge brought down on both sides so only the center portion remained. Cooking fires from thousands of enemy soldiers lit up Edgeland in the dark. Both sides of the river now boasted complex wood and stone fortifications manned by crack troops, an intimidating obstacle even to the world’s only sorcerer lord.
Once he was far from the city, Jayden stopped beneath a large old oak and cast a spell. Dana watched shadows swirl together to form a giant clawed hand as big as a man. The hand hovered with the palm flat and the fingers stretched out. He stood there for long minutes doing nothing until the hand began to tremble and then smoke. Bit by bit it boiled away until nothing remained.
“Five minutes,” Jayden said morosely.
“I’ve noticed you practicing that spell a lot this week.”
“The spell could ferry us across the river, but it moves too slowly and ends to quickly to make the journey safely. We could stand on the hand as it carried us, but we’d be floating targets for enemy archers. If we crossed far from enemy forces we would also be far from roads and settlements, not a safe course of action during winter.”
Dana thought about what the scout Ibrin had said. “How high can you make the hand fly?”
“I’ve never gotten it to go over fifty feet,” Jayden reported. “Sorcerer lords of old could make magic wings, but it’s a spell I’ve never found. I’m told the spell doesn’t grant users the innate knowledge of how to fly, which in ancient times killed more than a few sorcerer lord apprentices.”
Jayden turned to face her, frustration growing in his voice. “Fighting that enemy army would be ruinous even if Kaleoth soldiers won, but I could drive them off by ambushing supply caravans bringing those men food. They’d have to retreat after they went a month without nourishment. It’s a task I could do better than most and would save thousands of lives. Instead I find myself marooned here.”
“Surrounded by people who love you for saving their lives,” Dana reminded him.
“It’s a pleasant exile, I admit, but an exile nonetheless.” Jayden glared at the enemy troops across the river. “My greatest nightmare has come true, proof that all my efforts up to this point didn’t prevent the king and queen from attacking neighboring nations, and here I stand unable to do anything. I despise feeling helpless.”
“Welcome to how the rest of us feel,” Dana told him. “Most people see huge events like this happening and can’t do a thing to stop them. We just have to keep our heads down and hope the storm passes.”
“More is expected of a sorcerer,” Jayden said.
“And from a prince, I get that, but you’re just one man. Jayden, none of the spells I’ve seen you use can stop an army or make you invulnerable. That iron golem Wall Wolf nearly killed you, and after almost dying you’re chomping at the bit for another fight.”
“That’s because the people of Kaleoth are still in danger.” Jayden pointed at the opposing army. “Armies don’t fight in winter if they can help it, so our foes are likely quartered in Edgeland until spring, but in my heart I fear the worst. These soldiers could have been deployed elsewhere now that they know the advantage of surprise is lost and there is no easy path to Kaleoth, yet they remain. I despise the king and queen, but I don’t doubt their abilities. Those men are here for a reason, one I don’t understand, and the longer they stay the more time they have to put their plan in effect.”
Dana took him by the arm. “Come on, there’s nothing more we can do tonight.”
“I doubt morning will bring new insights, but if nothing else tonight may have some value.” Jayden selected two short branches off the ground and tossed one to her. “On guard.”
“You gave me a fencing lesson this morning.” Jayden had made sword fighting a daily routine. Dana didn’t complain when she needed the practice if she was ever going to use her magic sword to its full potential.
“I’m giving you another one. The warrior who sweats before battle doesn’t bleed during it.”
Dana took the improvised sword and dueled Jayden. She thought she did well, or at least walked away without bruises this time. When they were done she was overheated and exhausted. “You’re teaching me how to fight. Who taught you?”
Jayden tossed his branch down. “The captain of the guard. He was the best swordsman in the kingdom, and I begged him day and night to teach me.”
Dreading the answer, Dana asked, “What happened to him? I didn’t see him when I saw those memories of your youth.”
“The king and queen discharged him for drinking, womanizing and speaking his mind whether or not anyone asked for his opinions. He moved to Zentrix Kingdom, where he continues to drink, womanize, speak his mind and teach swordsmanship to young men of limited means.” Jayden smiled. “Men of influence in Zentrix despise him while the common folk adore him, so little has changed besides his address.”
“There’s got to be a line of men at the inn trying to get your help. We need to send them home or else they’ll badger you until morning.”
Dana led Jayden back to River Twin. They’d nearly reached The Moody Muse when Jayden pulled her to a halt. “Why is Maya waiting outside the inn?”
Maya stood shivering in the cold by the inn’s front door. When she saw them, she ran over and grabbed Jayden’s hands. “There’s a scary looking man waiting for you inside. He says he wants to talk with you. I told him you weren’t taking job offers, and he said you’re going to take his. He told me to get you, and when I said I didn’t know where you’d gone he said not to come back without you. I looked and looked, but you two weren’t at any of the places I checked, and I was scared to go back into the inn alone.”
Jayden scowled. “Dana, I think I’m going to damage my good reputation in Kaleoth.”
Jayden marched into the inn with Dana and Maya following him. Maya pointed at a man in a dark cloak standing at the table where Jayden had been seated earlier. He was armed with a sword still in its sheath, but the man wore simple leather clothes instead of armor. Jayden headed straight for the stranger, stopping ten feet away and resting his hands on the back of a nearby chair.
“I take a dim view of people abusing my friends, and that includes ordering one into the cold as if she was your servant,” Jayden snarled. Nearby patrons backed away and the innkeeper ducked behind his bar. The stranger turned to look at Jayden. Looking angrier than normal, Jayden said, “I ask for neither thanks nor reward from your people for what I did, but expecting basic civility shouldn’t be too much.”
“Dark times demand different behavior of men,” the stranger said, his voice betraying no fear. “My master would have words with you outside.”
“Then by all means, invite him in,” Jayden countered. “I wouldn’t want him to catch cold.”
“He wishes to discuss matters with you in private.”
Jayden didn’t budge. “I care precious little who your master is or what he wants of me. You may have noticed a rather colorful sign by the table you’re standing at. The message is succinct and less of an exaggeration than you’d think. I am seconds away from inflicting serious injuries on you, and let the consequences be what they may.”
The stranger approached him and took a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. He tossed it to Jayden, who caught the paper, unfolded it and stared at it for a moment before burning it in a nearby lantern. Jayden glared at the stranger. “This is going to cost you.”
“My master brought enough money.”
“I meant personally,” Jayden said a second before he punched the man below the belt. Men winced in sympathy as the stranger fell to the floor. Jayden headed for the door and said, “Dana, Maya, we have to deal with this. As for you, errand boy, come when you’re able.”
“The invitation is only for you,” the stranger croaked.
“Obedience isn’t my one of my strengths.”
Jayden left the inn with Dana and Maya, and then headed to a nearby house guarded by four heavily armored knights. The knights parted when Jayden approached, granting entrance to a small room with a table, four chairs and three men.
“I appreciate your coming, especially on short notice,” one of the men said. He was a youth of roughly twenty years, handsome and well dressed in furs. His hair was dark brown and trimmed short. He had a warm, sincere voice, and an expression of relief at seeing Jayden. That look was soon replaced with concern when he asked, “Special Agent Ulem was supposed to guide you here.”
“Special Agent Ulem showed shocking disrespect for my friends, the sort of behavior I’d expect from thugs and bandits. He’ll be along once he can stand.”
The other two men tensed at this news and stepped forward. Both wore the gray and green robes of Kaleoth wizards, and their staffs were black oak set with jewels. The youth waved them back, and did the same when the knights outside looked in.
“King Brent is going to be disappointed,” the youth said. “I keep telling him I can handle myself, and he keeps sending men to guide me as if I was a child. I apologize for any offense given and trust you won’t prevent it from hearing my offer.”
Jayden folded his arms across his chest. “Pray tell, what does a prince want with a wanted criminal?”
Dana gasped. Maya pointed at the youth and asked, “You’re Prince Onus?”
The prince bowed. “The one, the only, the poorly named. I wish we could have met under better conditions, but for security reasons I travel as quietly as possible. The king and queen may have spies in the city who could attack me if they knew I was here. It forces me to use intermediaries whenever possible, sometimes men who are better skilled in battle than in negotiations. And in regards to your status as a wanted man, the bounties on your head have never applied in Kaleoth.”
“Charming,” Jayden said. “I’m surprised King Brent would risk his only surviving heir by sending him to a city in peril.”
“I come because of River Twin’s peril,” Prince Onus replied. “Kaleoth has only four cities, none larger than River Twin. We can’t afford to lose it, especially if doing so opens up the rest of the kingdom to invasion. If River Twin falls then Kaleoth falls with it.”
Jayden didn’t respond or unfold his arms. Prince Onus pulled out the chairs and offered them. “I had heard you didn’t travel alone any longer. Please, allow me to offer some hospitality in such dark times.”
“Interesting that you should use the expression ‘dark times’,” Jayden said as he sat down. “Your agent used it as an excuse.”
Prince Onus winced as if struck. “My apologies. Some men use their high positions like a club.”
Jayden didn’t look impressed. “Your letter, which I burned according to your written instructions, claimed you needed my services in the defense of the kingdom. Save both my time and yours by skipping ahead to the job you need done so badly.”
“Reports of your lack of tack are clearly true, but given your experiences I suppose it’s not surprising.” Prince Onus offered chairs to Dana and Maya before sitting down. “Enemy forces remain at the border, curious when there is no way across. Racehorse River runs too fast to freeze over or for boats to cross, and rebuilding the bridge while under fire from Kaleoth troops is impossible. Grandfather believes the enemy still seeks to invade, and I proved him correct.”
The prince tossed a cracked crystal ball with a bronze stand onto the table. “It cost the only crystal ball in the kingdom, but before it was destroyed by an interceptor spell it showed enemy forces building two mobile drawbridges inside Edgeland. The first is forty feet long, the second equally long but not as wide, and both are mounted on wheels. I believe the enemy intends to set one across the gap to the remaining bridge section and use the second bridge to cover the remaining distance to the riverbank. Once that’s done they can march soldiers across. They still have Wall Wolf, maimed by your assistant but still standing. The only blessing in this matter is that Wall Wolf is undoubtedly too heavy to cross these makeshift bridges.”
“It won’t have to,” Jayden told the prince. “Racehorse River runs fast, but Wall Wolf’s great weight means the river can’t wash the golem downstream. The enemy general Kyver Rendmal will likely send Wall Wolf in first by walking across the bottom of the river and then attack your troops. The enemy army will bridge the river while your forces are occupied.”
“That’s my feeling as well. Grandfather is calling upon aid from the Guild of Heroes, the Brotherhood of the Righteous, the Servants of the Cause, the Square Pegs, anyone who might listen. He even asked for help from the Yelinid Banking Cartel.”
“Why would bankers fight a war?” Dana asked.
The two wizards looked surprised that she’d spoke, but the prince didn’t seem to be bothered. “Dead men don’t pay back loans, and conquerors don’t honor the debts of their enemies. If Yelinid expects to ever see the money we borrowed from them, they have to keep us alive.”
“How soon until these bridge sections are completed?” Jayden asked the prince.
“The last image from the crystal ball showed the first section was finished and the second nearly done. I need those bridges destroyed before they can be deployed, a difficult request when they’re made from some of the largest trees I’ve seen. Such thick timbers won’t burn easily, and green wood from freshly felled trees even less so.”
“You have two wizards,” Dana pointed out. “Why do you need three?”
Prince Onus waved at his wizards. “Malvel is a fire wizard, and Klim understands water and wind magic. Both are talented and brave, but by their own admissions aren’t powerful. My original plan was for Klim to create a magic cloud and fly the two of them over, then have Malvel set the bridges on fire. It would have placed them in great danger while offering little chance of success, but having a sorcerer lord improves the odds.”
Prince Onus looked nervous when he said, “It may surprise you that grandfather’s spies developed a lengthy file on you, Jayden, including eyewitness evidence of the spells you have cast in the past.”
“Should I feel honored or paranoid?” Jayden asked.
“Both,” the prince replied. “Grandfather keeps files on anyone who might be a valuable ally or enemy. His file showed considerable evidence of your hatred for the king and queen of your homeland, if not the reason why, so you were listed as a possible friend in time of need. As for paranoia, that’s a healthy trait to cultivate.”
The prince looked at Dana. He was cute, close to her age, and good God did the man sound sincere. She could feel herself blushing.
“Our file mentioned the young lady, but not her name or the magic sword she used to cripple Wall Wolf. Please, may I see it?”
“No,” Jayden said.
“It’s my sword,” she reminded him. Dana gave the sword to Prince Onus. The prince drew it and marveled at the blade before sheathing it and returning it to Dana.
“Impressive. Grandfather’s spies keep a close eye on powerful magic items in the region in case they are used against us. I’m surprised I’d never heard of this weapon before. Is it named?”
“I didn’t know people named weapons,” Dana admitted.
“It’s a guy thing,” Jayden told her.
“It might be the right tool for the job, even if it’s not what I had in mind,” Prince Onus said. “I’m told you can create a black whip that melts through nearly anything.”
“Technically it ages through them, but I see your point,” Jayden replied. “The whip won’t attract attention with light and smoke the way your fire wizard’s spells would. We could get in, cut through the bridges with my magic whip and leave unnoticed, but it would buy less time than you’d think. Kyver could replace anything we destroy.”
“Not easily.” The prince held up his ruined crystal ball again. “Prior to this war, the resident nobleman Baron Vrask had his people harvest timber to cover high taxes imposed on him. The largest trees were cut down long ago. We saw enemy soldiers searching high and low for the trees for their bridges, using up the best trees in the process. Using smaller trees less suited for the task will still take a month or longer. That could be long enough for grandfather to summon help. If nothing else there might be deep snow that would slow down another attack.”
“Your plan puts my life in great danger,” Jayden pointed out.
“I realize what I’m asking. I don’t know what your grievance is against your own king and queen, even if I share your dislike of them. This is a chance to hurt them and save good men. Naturally I’m offering pay proportional to the risk.”
Shocking everyone in the room, Jayden said, “I don’t want it.”
There was a stunned silence in the room, broken when Prince Onus said, “I didn’t see this coming.”
“You need the money here,” Jayden told him. “I need to get back into my home kingdom if I’m to do any good. Once I’ve done this for you, Klim is to make a magic clouds and take me anywhere I want to go, no questions, no limits. Those are my terms.”
Prince Onus looked at Klim, who nodded. “It’s a deal. Klim tells me there’s a storm coming tomorrow night. That will be the best chance for the three of you to infiltrate the enemy city.”
Jayden got up to leave. “That’s enough time to finish my business here. Prince, meeting you has been more of a pleasure than I’d expected, and I respect your ignoring how abusive I can be. Few have that skill.”
The prince smiled. “Years living under my grandfather’s rule have given me a thick skin. I’m grateful you accepted, even if grandfather was sure we could count on you.” The prince’s brow furrowed for a moment before he said, “Grandfather is normally quite clever, especially for a man of his advanced years, but when I told him I was going to enlist your aid he said something that didn’t make sense.”
“What might that be?” Jayden asked.
“He said you take after your mother in every way that matters, which makes no sense when no one knows your parentage.”
Jayden was silent for a moment. “You needn’t worry that your grandfather’s wits are slipping. His mind is only sharpening with age, and he paid me a compliment. I bid you good evening. Dana, Maya, come.”
June 17, 2019
Grave Errors
This story is a continuation of A Familiar Face, written from the perspective of Grace's husband Roy.
*********
Roy stood over the cradle in his house, watching his son Tyler as the tiny baby gradually woke up. It was a slow process, with much yawning, wiggling, waving and kicking before the baby opened his eyes. Roy waited patiently for his son to decide whether it was worth waking up or not until the baby stared back at him. Satisfied that he wasn’t upsetting the baby’s sleep, Roy bent down and scooped up Tyler.
“I want to hug the baby,” Jenna pestered him. Roy’s daughter loved her baby brother, perhaps a bit too much. It wasn’t easy to explain being gentle to a girl not yet three years old.
“You’ll get your turn,” Roy told her. He cradled Tyler in his strong arms while the baby kicked his feet. At two months the boy couldn’t crawl, but he wiggled so much it was hard to hold him.
Jenna pouted and put her hands on her hips. “Want to hug baby now.”
Roy’s wife Grace laughed and scooped up her daughter. “There, there, let daddy play with Tyler.”
Roy shared his son’s restlessness and would have liked to walk around, but his small house didn’t leave room for pacing. The single room wood house was well made but small, and the stack of clay jars filled with food Grace had pickled for the winter left even less space. Nor could he take his son outside when the weather was cold. Confining as their small house was, it was about to get even smaller.
Grace took Jenna by the hand and led the girl to a wood chest filled with clothes. “Come on, I want you in your best dress for your grandparent’s visit.”
That made Roy smile. He was poor, all woodcutters were, so their best clothes were old and made of cheap cotton. The rest of their belongings were equally simple with no trappings of wealth, just two poor people, their young children and a mob of gray cats. Simple though their lives were, Grace wanted to put on the best possible face for her parents.
Keeping the house clean had been tricky even before they adopted the cats currently scattered across the room. The mother of those cats was a gray furred familiar of the late sorceress Esme, and the animal retained the magic Esme had poured into it. The cat had brought her kittens here after the sorceress passed away and had adopted Roy, Grace and Jenna as her new family. It was an unusual arrangement that worked after a fashion, even if Esme’s cat was at times a pest.
Getting Jenna clean and presentable was no small task, and Roy had to put his son back in the cradle to help when his daughter got fussy. Once Jenna was ready, Roy went to the door to wait for his in-laws. They’d be here soon to spend the day sharing gossip and stories of old times that always seemed to be better than the present.
He didn’t have long to wait. Roy smiled as his in-laws walked up to the house. He got along with them as well as could be expected, an odd situation when they were only ten years older than he was. Grace’s parents were wealthier than he was, but not by a large margin. Farming generated little more profit than woodcutting. They didn’t come alone, either, bringing their youngest daughter Stacy with them. Stacy was all of ten years old and bounding in her eagerness to see Roy’s children.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Roy told them as they came inside his meager house.
“It’s no hardship,” his father-in-law said. “The neighbors are looking after our livestock, and there’s no work in the fields this time of year. We have more than enough time to visit our grandkids. Jenna, look how you’ve grown!”
Normally Jenna was loving to a fault, but this time she raced to the cradle and put herself firmly between the baby and her grandparents. “My baby!”
Grace’s mother watched with some concern. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s our fault,” Grace explained. “Esme’s kittens are big enough to do their own hunting, even if they’re not very good at it. Roy and I wondered if we could give one or two away to the neighbors.”
“My kittens!” Jenna yelled. One of the gray cats rubbed up against her. Usually that was enough to distract the little girl, but not today.
“Now she’s convinced we’re giving away everything, including the baby,” Grace finished. Jenna ran over and tried to climb into the cradle with her baby brother. Grace picked up the little girl and said, “Jenna, only the baby goes in the cradle.”
Just then one of the cats jumped up into the cradle and lay down at the baby’s feet. The in-laws laughed while Grace scolded, “What did I just say?”
“They get into everything,” Roy added. He spotted movement in the supposedly empty stew pot and plucked out another cat. “They’re nearly grown and will leave soon whether we give them away or not. Still, I figure Esme’s cat will give us a new batch of kittens soon enough.”
Esme’s cat had been minding her own business in a corner when she heard this. The gray cat gave Roy a look that said ‘don’t judge me’ without saying a word.
“My baby, my kittens!” Jenna yelled. She was working herself into a tantrum.
Roy went over and scooped up his daughter. He held her against his chest and wrapped both arms around her. “Shh, it’s okay. No one is giving baby brother away. He’s ours forever and ever. That’s a promise, and daddy keeps his promises.”
Jenna calmed down slowly. Roy set her on the table and then picked up his infant son. He set the baby in Jenna’s lap and she grabbed him. The baby looked like he didn’t even notice the commotion and kicked his feet. Roy spotted his ten year old sister in-law waiting at his elbows with a smile.
“Stacy, you can play with them, but Jenna gets to hold the baby,” Roy said.
Stacy squealed in delight and wrapped her arms around her niece and nephew. “I’ll be extra special careful with them, and hug them and kiss them and hold them.”
Roy patted her on the back. “That’s a good girl. If you folks will excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“I wouldn’t mind helping,” his father-in-law offered.
“I might take you up on that another time, but it’s light duty today,” Roy said.
Grace handed him his ax before kissing him. “Mother and I will have a hot meal ready when you get back. You be careful.”
“I always am.”
Roy was about to leave when he saw Jenna give their guests dubious looks and said, “Don’t squish my baby.”
The extended family burst out laughing, letting Roy leave the house on a high note. He set his ax on the wood sledge he used to haul wood and pulled it to the nearby forest. Farming slowed down to a crawl during winter when there was nothing to do but look after animals, but woodcutting sped up in cold weather. There were no mosquitoes or biting flies to bedevil men, and cold air cut down on sweating. A thin layer of snow crunched under his feet as he left his family behind.
On his way there he passed the sheriff and four soldiers. The sheriff had been a busy man ever since winter started. Wolves were growing more desperate with the cold weather, and bandits were always a threat. Roy had been a soldier once and appreciated the risk those men took.
A soldier pointed at Roy and asked, “Sheriff, should we let him go in the woods alone?”
The man meant to be quiet, his voice just above a whisper, but it was as plain as day to Roy, as was the sheriff’s reply. “Roy is one of the 157. If there’s trouble, he can handle himself.”
Roy continued on as if he hadn’t heard them and entered the woods that other villagers avoided. Roy didn’t begrudge them such concern given the things he’d found among the trees. He’d come across the ruins of farmhouses long abandoned, nothing more than stone fireplaces and half rotted beams that used to be homes. To be fair, there were parts of the woods where even Roy didn’t go, old, malignant places best left forgotten.
Nor were the woods entirely empty. He’d seen odd tracks in the dirt from passing monsters, remains from their kills, and now and then he saw unidentifiable shapes moving in the distance. Most monsters kept their distance, wary of humans with steel axes. Over the years two beasts had shown poor judgment and attacked Roy. They’d been surprisingly tasty.
Entering the woods was a disorienting experience if you weren’t ready for it. The woods were dense with large trees growing close together. There were narrow trails that Roy knew by heart but few others did. You couldn’t see far even without the dense cloud cover overhead, and help was far away if a man was in danger.
Roy had seen a few promising dead trees last week that would make excellent firewood. Dry wood burned far better and cleaner than green wood, but those trees were deep in the forest. Going more than a mile into the woods held no real risk with the company he’d soon get.
“Hey there, champ,” a squeaky voice called out. Roy nodded to the messy goblin ambling through the woods. This one was squat, dirty, hairy, dressed in rags and had a wide mouth and head.
Roy tipped his hat to the goblin. “Hi, Gristle.”
“Getting away from your in-laws?” Gristle asked.
“No, just getting some work done. Snow doesn’t slow down my day.”
Gristle jumped onto Roy’s sledge. “Mine if I come along?”
Roy hesitated. “I’d rather be alone today.”
“That’s reason enough to stay with you. I can’t have you getting into one of your moods again, not with little tots at home.”
All manner of responses ran through Roy’s mind. During his years as a soldier he’d learned enough insults and obscenities to fill a book. It took some effort not to use them, but resisting the urge wasn’t that hard. After all, Gristle was right.
“How are the little ones doing?” Gristle asked as Roy pulled the goblin down the snowy trail.
“Jenna’s more of a handful than ever. She treats her brother like a new toy, one she’s not always careful with. Don’t get me wrong, she loves Tyler, but we’ve got to watch her around him so she doesn’t get too enthusiastic.”
Sounding cheerful, Gristle asked, “And the little man?”
Roy smiled. “He wiggles so much I wish I had another pair of arms to hold him. Always moving around, kicking and waving his arms.”
“Now there’s your real problem. What you’ve got is an ambitious baby. Most little ones are happy to let people feed them and clean up after them. That’s the life! But your kid’s got gumption. You mark my words, he won’t be satisfied just sitting around. Before you know it he’ll set out on an epic quest.”
Roy stopped and turned around to give the goblin a disbelieving look. “He’s two months old.”
“It could happen any day.”
This bizarre conversation was typical of interactions with goblins. They were stupid and a bit crazy, making dealings with them nearly impossible. Roy had also heard that goblins were mischievous and set traps for the unwary, but he didn’t believe it. Gristle and his fellow goblins had never bothered him in the slightest.
Gristle bounded off the sledge and walked alongside Roy. “So does that make them 158 and 159?”
Roy froze. “What?”
“I’ve heard people call you 157, so if you’ve got two kids that would make them—”
“No!” Roy’s shout startled the goblin. It took some effort for him to calm down. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t like that nickname, never have, and I don’t want it to ruin them the way it did me.”
Gristle paused. “You want to talk about it?”
This wasn’t a topic he was comfortable with, but he knew Gristle wouldn’t let it go. Best to clear the air before the goblin started making guesses and spreading confusion.
“You know how I was drafted into the army,” Roy began. “Those weren’t good times. The king needed men to stop the Skitherin invasion. It was only supposed to be for a year, but once we beat back the first invasion there was another one, and another after that. They thought they had us nearly beaten and needed one more battle to break us. The king needed his army ready to deal with it, so we never went home, ten years of one invasion after another.”
“Ten years?” Gristle asked. “Didn’t Skitherin soldiers get tired of losing?”
“Every loss left dead to be avenged,” Roy explained. “Every war put them deeper in debt they could only cover by looting our kingdom. They gave up only when they couldn’t afford to lose any more men or pay the ones they had.
“The last battle was the worst. Skitherin generals gambled everything on one last push. They sent eleven thousand men across the Yathin Plains at our army. We were dug in with trenches, barricades, forts and even had three wizards. There was no way they could break us, but there was a narrow mountain pass leading into the plains that led to the back of our army. Our general sent my regiment to cover the pass.”
“And they attacked the pass,” Gristle said.
“Two thousand of them,” Roy replied. He winced as memories flooded back. “We had eight hundred men. The pass was narrow enough that two hundred men could block it. That’s what saved us. They couldn’t swarm us, but every time we defeated one company they’d send another. If we’d retreated those soldiers would have hit our army from the rear, so we held.”
Roy stopped and sat on his sledge. “The battle on the plain was a rousing success, enough to make sure Skitherin wouldn’t invade again for generations. When our general sent word for us to return, the messenger found 157 of us alive and only 23 still standing. We’d held the pass, and we paid for it.
“The healer who found me said my wounds were so serious I wouldn’t survive the night. A week later they told me I’d never walk again. By the time our general finally let us go home they said I’d never be normal. They were wrong the first two times. I wonder about the third warning.”
Gristle didn’t answer, instead watching Roy. Roy looked at the goblin and said, “I was called to serve and I did, coming home with scars, empty pockets and nightmares that won’t stop. The first year back was the worst. I built my house at the edge of the village and became a woodcutter because I didn’t want to be around other people. I came so close to coming apart at the seams, sometimes breaking down in tears twice a week. I was honestly shocked when Grace came to check up on me and bring me meals.”
“Her mother told her to do that,” Gristle said.
“I figured that out eventually.” Roy gave the goblin a curious look and asked, “How’d you know?”
Gristle shrugged. “People say things when they’re in bed at night and think they’re alone.”
“That’s really disturbing.”
Gristle grinned. “You don’t know the half of it. But it all turned out for the best. You and Grace spent time together, she got you hitched, and now you’ve got two of the cutest kids I’ve seen. When are you going to bring them with you to work? You don’t get all weepy or beat trees to bits anymore.”
Roy trudged deeper into the woods. “Too risky. They could get lost out here, especially Jenna. But, ah, I appreciate you and the other goblins living here not telling anyone about my breakdowns.”
“Of course we didn’t. You don’t hit a guy when he’s down.”
Roy laughed. “I’m down?”
“You used to be,” Gristle said. “Still kind of are.”
Collecting firewood was only one reason why Roy had come out today. He’d picked up a lot of bad habits from his days as a soldier, including poaching. A fellow recruit had taught him how to set snares and how to spot the best places to put them. Hunger had compelled Roy to become a good student. Leaving the army should have meant giving up the practice, but woodcutters were notoriously poor, and he had children to feed. No one minded him taking squirrels or rabbits provided he didn’t flaunt his catches and occasionally shared the meat.
The first snare was set on a small game trail. Animals used the same paths over and over during the winter so they didn’t have to constantly make new trails in the snow. This snare was empty, but he’d set many such snares. He checked the next one and found it empty with no new tracks in the snow. Then he got to the third snare.
“This is new,” Roy said.
Gristle walked over. “What?”
Roy held up the snare. His snares were simple affairs made of wood and sinew, but this one was different because the loop of sinew that caught animals was gone. “This wasn’t torn or chewed off. It was cut with a sharp knife.”
“You’re the only human who comes in these woods,” Gristle said. “Me and the boys don’t have sharp knives or bother your snares.”
“Somebody’s been here and helped themselves.” Roy bent down and looked for tracks. The snow layer was so thin it didn’t preserve tracks well, but there were large scuffmarks. “I don’t like this.”
“When did you set the snare?” Gristle asked.
“Yesterday night.”
Gristle waddled off the trail and politely knocked on a large tree stump. Moments later a door opened on the stump and another goblin came out. “Somebody swiped one of Roy’s bunnies. You see who did it?”
The new goblin hurried over and looked at the snare. “No. Didn’t hear anything, either. What jerk would take food out of a poor little baby’s mouth? I’ll fetch the sheriff.”
Roy grabbed the goblin by the arm before he’d gone three steps. “Let’s not bother him with this. I don’t mind sharing food with a soul in need, but honest men would come forward and announce themselves.”
Gristle scratched his head. “That means we have a dishonest man. What’s he here for?”
“I’ll check the rest of my snares,” Roy said. “Ask if other goblins saw anyone.”
Roy and the goblins parted company, giving him much needed peace and quiet to think. He didn’t want the sheriff involved for two reasons, even if it made the situation riskier. The first was he didn’t want to be caught poaching. He could destroy his snares and scatter the pieces if he had to, but that meant rebuilding them and no fresh meat for days. The other reason was that this stranger might not be a villain. He could be a smuggler, another poacher, maybe an army deserter, none of which Roy considered serious offenses. The sheriff might disagree, and crimes were harshly punished. Roy had to see who this was before bringing in the law.
That meant finding the stranger. Roy was good at tracking prey and used those same skills here. Cold made the ground hard and less likely to preserve tracks, and the snow had been so light that much of the ground was bare. He spent nearly an hour searching before he found a footprint. It was an inch smaller than his and rounded at the sides. More searching turned up identical prints, but all facing different directions. He couldn’t say which direction the person was going in.
“Hey there, soldier boy,” Gristle called out. Roy looked up from one of the tracks to find a dozen goblins approaching him. Gristle pointed at a thin goblin wearing glasses and said, “He’s got news for you, not all good.”
The thin goblin stepped away from the rest of the mob and took off his glasses. Wiping them off on his raggedy shirt, he said, “I saw a man carrying two rabbits in the woods late last night. Betting money says they’re yours. Guy was wearing ratty clothes, worse than us, and he looked thin. He was heading into the dark parts of the woods.”
“So, he’s a moron,” another goblin said.
“More than most humans,” Gristle replied. “Not everybody who goes in there comes out. Some of the ones who do leave behind arms, legs, important stuff like that.”
“There’s no good reasons for a man to go there,” Roy said. Problem was there were bad reasons to enter the dark woods. Grandmothers told stories about the bad old days of the elf civil war, where warlords had tried to seize the throne, or barring that carve out a piece of the empire for themselves. Modern wars couldn’t compare to the savageness of those decades of endless conflict.
One of the stories said that a battle took place not far from where the village was today. It had been farmland at the time, rich and productive according to the stories, and two armies fought over it. When they were done thousands had died and too few had survived to give them proper burials. Instead the bodies had been piled up and covered with stones and soil. The land never bore good fruit after that and trees gradually took over. Centuries later the taint was lessened but not gone, and wise men stayed well clear.
“Dragon lairs are safer than those woods,” Gristle said. “Why would he go there?”
“He could be a necromancer,” Roy told the goblins. “Old battlefields like that have bones they could use for their magic. He could be a thief looking for loot. God only knows what could be left over after so long. Worst answer is he could be trying to contact monsters living there, make deals with them, make offerings.”
Gristle’s face turned pale. “Oh boy.”
Roy took the axe off his sledge and pointed at the goblins. “There’s not a moment to lose. Tell the sheriff he’s needed and to bring his men. Spread the word to the village that they need to keep an eye out for this stranger. He’s either evil or stupid enough to get good men killed.”
“Exactly what are you going to do while we spread fear and despair?” a goblin asked.
“I’m going after him before he does something dumb.” Roy marched in the direction of the deep woods, getting only a few feet before he heard footsteps behind him. Eleven goblins were following him into danger. “What are you waiting for?”
Gristle pointed at a goblin running off into the distance. “We sent Biff to warn everyone. It shouldn’t take more than one goblin to start a panic.”
“You can’t come with me. This is going to be dangerous.”
“That’s why we’re coming with you,” Gristle said. “There’s exactly one person around here we can talk with: you. We don’t give up on friends.”
“I,” he began before stopping. Help was coming only if the goblin could both find the sheriff and convince him to come, no easy feat. That meant waiting for help that might never arrive, going for the sheriff himself or going after this deranged stranger who willingly went into dark places. There was no telling what damage this fool might do or how long he’d been in the woods. He could have released some horror that could threaten his village, his family. Waiting wasn’t an option. And there was a very real chance he was going to be outclassed. Goblins weren’t strong, fast or smart, but they were the only support he had.
Roy pointed his ax at the goblins. “If you’re coming, you follow orders. No heroics. We bring him in, one way or the other, and I’ll see him in a grave rather than any of you.”
“Got it,” Gristle told him.
Roy headed into the deep woods with the goblins steps behind him. Twice he actually had to glance back to make sure they were there because they were so quiet. Any doubts about his new followers quickly vanished when he saw the determination in their eyes. There was a threat in these woods, a risk to men as well as goblins, and they meant to end it.
They didn’t have to go far to reach the deep woods. Trees here grew large since no one harvested them, but they grew in unnatural patterns, with spiraling branches and corkscrewing trunks. Strange rocks jutted up from the ground to form patterns that were both unrecognizable and still intimidating. There were no animals, and birds flew around this portion of the woods rather than go over it.
Large white marble statues showing a man praying marked the separation between the deep woods and the regular forest. Roy saw one near the trail and two more in the distance. Gristle pointed at the nearest statue and said, “I’ve seen these, but I don’t know what they’re for.”
“Barrier statues,” Roy explained. “Years ago the Brotherhood of the Righteous placed a ring of them around the deep woods to seal in the taint and darkness, and at the same time fight it. Every seven years brotherhood priests move the statues a little father into the woods. I saw Father Amadeus Firepower lead a group of priests to move the statues last winter. They only put them forward ten feet. Word is that one day these statues will remove all traces of evil here, but it won’t happen in my lifetime.”
“But they hold the bad monsters in?” Gristle pressed.
“Usually. The real powerful ones can force their way through. My father said that happened eight years before I was born. It took the whole village to kill it, plus a lot of soldiers and a few adventurers.” Roy paused before stepping past the line of statues. “I won’t blame you for turning back.”
“I heard you and the sheriff both went into the deep woods and came back okay,” Gristle said. “If you can do it, so can we.”
“Yeah, that happened. We were chasing an escaped convict who ran into the woods. The fool ignored the statues and went right into the worst part of the woods.”
“Did you find him?” another goblin asked.
Roy grimaced at the memory. “Most of him.”
Near the statues were footprints identical to the ones Roy had already found. There were enough tracks to make a definite trail. Roy frowned and traced his fingers over a part of the trail where the snow had been trampled so often it had melted.
“This many tracks means he’s been here for a while,” Roy told the goblins.
“But you only lost bunnies to this jerk last night,” Gristle said. “What was he eating before that?”
“He must have brought food with him, or set trap lines of his own in other parts of the woods I don’t visit.” Roy rubbed his chin and pointed down the trail. “Word is the burial mounds aren’t far from here. Looks like that’s where he made camp. Brace yourselves.”
Roy and the goblins ventured further into the depths of the woods. Shadows grew longer and darker. Plants grew into warped versions of normal objects and even animals. A strange whispering sound called out from the woods, like multiple voices speaking at once so it was impossible to understand.
One goblin turned to face where the whispers were coming from and asked, “Are you giving stock tips?”
There was a long, awkward pause before the conflicting voices grumbled and fell silent.
“Keep quiet,” Roy said. He squinted and spotted a light ahead of them. It could be a will-o wisp or other spirit trying to trick travelers into following it into dangerous places like pits and bogs, but the light wasn’t moving. He waved for the goblins to stay back and approached it. That required crossing a river large enough that it was still free of ice. Roy picked his way across rocks rising up from the water and reached the other side.
It was bad. Not far past the riverbank was a burial mound thirty feet long and eight feet high. Mostly it was made of rocks with dead weeds sticking out, but where the rocks separated Roy saw dirt froze solid. What chilled him to the bone was the gaping hole in the side of the mound. Someone had dug into it, dumping stone, frozen dirt, yellowed bones and rusty bits of metal.
Next to the mound was a crude camp with a fire pit lined with rocks and filled with burning logs. Roy picked through the camp and found rabbit bones stripped of meat and broken open for the marrow. A pickaxe, hammer and bedroll were next to the fire pit, but no one was present.
Clunk. The sound came from the hole in the burial mound. Roy edged closer while more sounds came from the hole. As he neared the mound he saw a weapon wrapped in leather. Roy picked it up and took off the wrapping to reveal a sword that gleamed like it was fresh from the forge. The edge was sharp, and there was black writing on the blade. Roy put it down at once.
Clunk. A rock flew out of the hole in the mound, followed by a small pile of broken bones. Roy had enough familiarity with bodies that he identified them as human remains of great age. He heard someone cough and swear, and then a raggedy man stepped out of the hole and set down a shovel.
The stranger was a man, a bit shorter than Roy and a good deal thinner, wearing threadbare clothes and a patched cloak. Roy guessed the stranger’s age at twenty, maybe a year or two older, but no more than that. He had brown hair and brown eyes that locked onto Roy the moment he left the mound. The stranger said nothing as he ran for the sword.
Roy swung his ax at the man’s heels. He timed the blow carefully to catch the stranger with the ax handle rather than the blade, tripping him instead of maiming him. The stranger cried out in pain as he fell to the frozen ground. Roy kneeled down on the man’s back to pin him down.
The stranger struggled beneath him. “Get off me!”
“What’s your name?”
“Get off!”
Roy pressed down on the man as hard as he could. “I found you desecrating a grave. You could have woken up spirits with your digging. Not a man alive would blame me for turning you over to the sheriff or taking your life here and now. Your name.”
The stranger wiggled underneath him, helpless to get away with the larger and stronger man on him. “Nobody you know is buried here.”
Roy swung his ax into the ground three inches from the stranger’s head. “There’s got to be a hundred people buried here, men or elves makes no difference, and at least another twenty mounds just as big. That’s a lot of people who died in battle and were covered over, no funeral, no holy man offering prayers to keep dark spirits from finding their bodies and moving in. This part of the woods is tainted from what happened. You can feel it, hear it, and you opened up a burial mound. That’s a hanging offense if the spirits in the mound don’t kill you first.”
The stranger laughed at him. “You think I’m worried about spirits? I’m worried about starving! I had nothing, no coin, no goods, no hope, and you worry about spirits. There’s money in these mounds, pay the soldiers had when they were buried, rings, amulets, magic! I need it!”
Roy reached for the sword, but it was too far from him. He hit the stranger in the side of the head with the butt of his ax blade before getting up and taking the sword. The stranger staggered to his feet, stopping when he saw Roy holding the blade.
“There aren’t coins or jewelry in mounds like this,” Roy said. “Soldiers don’t bury the dead with anything they can use, so if you find anything they didn’t want, you can be sure it’s not worth having. This is what you risked your life for? This sword?”
“It’s magic,” the stranger said. “I know it is.”
“I know it is, too. What makes you think the soldiers who made this burial mound couldn’t tell the same thing? They buried it rather than keep it. That should tell you the kind of magic it is.”
Roy threw the sword aside and pointed his ax at the stranger. “I’ve seen magic before. Most of it was cheap dwarf workmanship, more likely to fall apart than do what it promised. I’ve seen a few pieces of old elf magic dating from their empire, works of art that could kill a man at a hundred paces. And I’ve seen magic like this. It’s an old sorcerer lords magic item. Their power comes at a terrible price. That’s why the soldiers buried it. They saw what it did to the man who used it and were smart enough to leave it here.”
The stranger scowled at Roy and rubbed where he’d been hit. “There are still folks who will pay for it.”
“And die from it! Can you read?” When the stranger nodded, Roy said, “The writing on the blade says, ‘None may harm thee for a thousand heartbeats, then be stilled’, right over an old glyph for shadows. If that doesn’t scare you, then you’re a fool ten times over. The one time I saw a man with a sorcerer lord magic item, it was a magic ring he used to kill a dozen men. The ring had to be recharged after being used. It recharged itself by turning him to dust, then was ready to kill again. Sorcerer lord magic is like that. If you don’t know what you’re doing it costs you, and it’s not cheap.”
“What fool would make a magic weapon that hurts its owner?” the stranger demanded.
“I don’t know,” Roy answered. Wizards had never made sense to him. Many wizards he’d met were so arrogant they seemed to think they weren’t human anymore, but something new and superior. “Maybe there’s a way to use them where you don’t get killed. Maybe only sorcerer lords could use them without dying so nobody could steal their magic. Maybe the wizard who made this was stark raving mad. That’s something you should appreciate after desecrating a burial mound.”
“It’s not that simple!” the stranger yelled. “You stand here and judge me, talking about danger and risks like you know what it means! This morning I had my first meal in five days. I’ve got no one to turn to for help, no one who cares whether I live or die. I take chances because I have no choice.”
Roy pointed at the stranger’s right hand. “You already took a big chance. I saw the bleeding crown brand mark on your hand. That’s the mark of the Fallen King, a disgraced royal who rounded up an army of thieves and bandits to overthrow his father. I’d heard they all died. Guess at least one of you got away.”
“I know men who will buy the sword, no questions asked,” the stranger said. “They’re smart, the kind who can figure out how to use it without getting killed. The money’s enough to live off for years.”
The stranger edged closer. “You’re a poor man yourself. Don’t lie to me! I can see it. Those are old clothes, and that ax has seen a lot of use. You came here to get wood for your fireplace or to fix up your home. No buying what you need, you have to get it all yourself, find it or earn it or take it. We can split the money.”
Roy gripped his ax with both hands. “You’d kill me the first chance you get, and whoever you’re thinking of selling this to will kill you for the sword instead of paying.”
“I’m not walking away from this, and I’m not going to jail,” the stranger said.
“Jail or the grave,” Roy said. “I can’t let you leave after what you’ve done. You’re not my match, boy, not by a long shot. Don’t be stupid.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed and he balled up his fists. Roy readied himself for what was sure to be a reckless charge, a threat that ended when the burial mound began to stir. The center of the mound bulged out, rocks sliding away, aged bones pushing to the surface, and a high pitched howl pieced the air.
Roy recognized the sound. “Barrow wight. Get behind me or you’re lunch.”
The burial mound burst open as a single barrow wight broke free. It was hideous to behold, like a man bleached of color with white eyes, long black hair, sharp nails and pointed teeth. It stank of rotting meat, an overpowering stench that threatened to make Roy throw up.
The creature’s name meant ‘tomb man’ in an old and forgotten tongue, a dead body possessed by some fell spirit after the soul had left. Roy had seen such monsters on battlefields after dark, feeding on the dead and hunting stragglers. Barrow wights hated sunlight, but a cloudy winter day like this was just dark enough for their liking. They were hard to kill and hard to keep dead. Was this horror strong enough to cross the barrier statues and attack his village? Roy didn’t know. He couldn’t let it escape when it might attack his family.
The barrow wight charged Roy and leapt at him. Roy ran to the left and swung his ax, missing it by inches. It bounded after him and went for his face. Roy struck it across the jaw, a wound it healed from the moment the ax head pulled out. Making matters worse, the stranger did the stupidest thing imaginable, grabbing the sword and pressing his thumb against the glyph for shadows.
“You fool, no!” Roy yelled.
The warning was too late. The black letters turned gold and the sword glittered like the sun. He charged the barrow wight and drove the sword through its gut. The second he pulled the sword out the wound closed, and the barrow wight turned to face him. It jumped on him, biting and clawing. To Roy’s shock the barrow wight’s attacks were totally useless. Its claws shredded the man’s thin clothes but left his skin intact. The stranger stabbed it again and again, only for its wounds to heal. The two were locked in a vicious and pointless battle where neither could kill the other.
Roy ran after them as the barrow wight shoved the stranger against the burial mound. It savage attacks laid his chest bare without so much as leaving a scratch. Roy struck the barrow wight from behind and did no real damage. It turned toward him as the stranger raised his sword.
“Aim for the joints!” Roy shouted. The stranger either didn’t hear him or didn’t care as his sword came down on the barrow wight’s chest. The blade went halfway through the monster, only for the damage to heal around the sword. The barrow wight pushed the stranger back until the sword came free, and the wound fully healed.
With the barrow wight’s attention on the stranger, Roy had another opportunity to strike. He swung hard and hit the monster’s right arm at the shoulder. The ax went fully through and took off the arm. The barrow wight howled and knocked Roy aside with its other arm. The stranger attacked again but missed. The barrow wight’s retaliation tore the stranger’s shirt to pieces without drawing blood. The magic sword was a potent weapon, but it claimed there was a time limit for its gifts. Roy had to end this fight fast.
Roy got up and swung his ax again, catching the barrow wight’s right knee. Again his ax went fully through its target, costing the barrow wight a leg. It fell screaming to the ground, and Roy stood over it and swung again, this time aiming for the monster’s neck.
Whack! The barrow wight fell silent.
“It’s dead!” the stranger yelled in triumph.
Roy raised his ax again. “Not even close.”
Four more times Roy swung his ax until the barrow wight was in pieces. Breathing hard and covered in sweat despite the cold, he stepped back and leaned against a tree. “That should keep it quiet for now, but it can heal from even this. We have to burn the pieces individually to keep it from recovering.”
Roy was going to tell the stranger how easily he could have been killed if the barrow wight had taken him by surprise, or how great a threat the monster would have been to neighboring villages, but he didn’t get the chance. Instead he dropped to his knees as the stranger swung the magic sword at his head. The blow missed Roy and cut the tree down with one swing. Roy sidestepped the next swing and the one after that.
“I saved your life!” Roy yelled. The stranger didn’t slow his attacks for a second, lashing out with all the skill of a drunken halfwit. He obviously had no training with a sword, but the magic blade could cut Roy apart if the fool got lucky.
Roy scowled and swung his ax with lethal intent. He hit the stranger across the face with enough force to knock the fool back three feet, but the ax did no more damage than the barrow wight’s claws had. He followed up with a swing at the stranger’s sword hand that would have crippled anyone else, yet did nothing but force the stranger back.
Roy dodged a clumsy swing aimed at his legs, but he was holding his ax too low and the sword took off the ax head with contemptible ease. Roy was unarmed and fighting a man he couldn’t hurt. The stranger tried to run him through, missing by an inch as Roy threw himself to the left. He got as many trees as he could between himself and his enemy, watching in horror as the stranger hacked through every obstacle in his way.
With the stranger steps behind him, Roy ran for his life. His enemy was an idiot, but he knew Roy could tell the authorities what had happened here, and his magic invulnerability wouldn’t last forever. A thousand heartbeats, how long did that take? The faster a man ran and fought the harder his heart beat, so the magic might only last another few minutes. Even when it was done, Roy didn’t have a weapon. He ran to the safety of his home village, praying he could keep ahead of this madman long enough to reach help.
Panting and exhausted, Roy reached the river and ran from rock to rock to cross it. The stranger wasn’t so careful and splashed through the cold water, soaking himself in the process. Roy stumbled on the last rock and fell on his face. He scrambled away on all fours, looking behind him as the stranger raised his sword with a crazed look in his eyes.
Splat! A gob of mud splattered against the stranger’s face. Three more followed and hit him in the chest. The fifth one hit him in the eyes and blinded him. The stranger howled and clawed at his eyes with his left hand while he swung the sword wildly in front of him. Splat! More mud gobs followed, one right in his mouth. The stranger gagged as he tried to cough up the mud.
Roy turned to see Gristle and the goblins standing at the edge of the river as he’d instructed. They held their ground and grabbed icy cold handfuls of mud to throw at the stranger. With impressive aim they splattered him across nearly his entire body. It was a temporary delay at best, but one Roy needed badly.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!” the stranger screamed as he cleared mud from his eyes. The man splashed through the river while goblins continued pelting him with mud. Some threw rocks, which did no damage, and others raised clubs to meet him when he finished crossing the river. Two more mud balls hit the stranger in the face, blinding him again and giving Roy the time he needed to regain his footing and grab a long branch off the ground.
Then the sword stopped glowing. The writing on the blade turned black as its enchantment faded, and the stranger winced when the goblins hit him with rocks. Whatever pain those caused paled in comparison to what happened as the sword turned entirely black, an encroaching darkness that spread onto his hand.
“Drop the sword!” Roy screamed. “Drop it before it kills you!”
The stranger stared in horror as the utter blackness stretched up his arm. “I can’t! My fingers won’t move!”
Roy’s anger at the man’s attack was replaced by fear as the sword extracted the price for its aid. This man was violent, stupid, ungrateful, but Roy had seen too many men die to ever want it again. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a way to save the fool.
The darkness spread further. The stranger held out his arm and cried out, “Cut it off!”
Roy held up his ax, its head hacked off during his battle with the stranger. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
There was a terrible bang like a thunderclap as the darkness raced up the stranger’s arm to his heart. The stranger looked at Roy and said, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” and fell dead.
The goblins backed away. Gristle asked, “What happened to him?”
Roy’s heart was beating as fast as a racehorse as he stared at the stranger. “The sword, it’s magic, but it’s cursed. It promised him invincibility for a thousand heartbeats then be stilled. I wasn’t sure what that meant when I first read it, but now I do. After those thousand heartbeats the sword stopped his heart.”
It was so stupid. The stranger had risked his life for the very weapon that had taken it, an act of cruelty perpetrated by a sorcerer lord who must have died over a thousand years ago. There the sword sat in the river, shiny again now that it had extracted its toll, waiting for its next victim too desperate or foolish to understand the dire risk. Roy could return it to the burial mound, but one person had already been willing to plunder it, so another man could be just as stupid.
“No more,” Roy said. He grabbed the sword and plunged it into the wet ground near the river. He drove it down as far as he could, then grabbed a large rock and slammed it into the butt of the sword like a hammer to force it down further. Roy growled his hatred as he forced the sword ever deeper until only the handle stuck up from the mud. He piled rocks around it and then covered that with mud.
Gristle and the goblins gathered around and helped. Where Roy had been trying to bury the blade, the goblins worked to conceal it. They were naturals at camouflage and reshaped the riverbank around the buried sword. Goblins moved large rocks and mud until they made a new bend in the river that looked as if it had always been there. The magic sword was buried in that new bend where no one would think to look for it. Gristle then led the goblins in replanting small pine trees around the sword where their roots would wrap around it.
“A barrow wight came out of the mound,” Roy told the goblins. “I need as much dry wood as you can find to burn it.”
“We can do that,” Gristle told him. He looked at the stranger and asked, “What about him?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do what’s right.”
* * * * *
Roy was late getting back home. He found the place alive with activity as his relatives laughed and played with Roy’s children. He dragged his sledge to the woodpile and left it there. Roy’s mother-in-law came out of the house and saw him take his ax head from his pocket.
“There you are,” she said cheerfully. “We were beginning to worry. What did you catch this time?”
She looked at the sledge and saw the stranger laying on it. She gasped at the sight. Roy stepped in front of her and put a hand on her shoulder. “The children can’t know about this. Smile for them. Tell your husband that I need his help outside. Then play with the children and keep them inside. Please.”
Roy’s mother-in-law nodded and forced a smile. She went inside and closed the door behind her. Roy waited until his father-in-law came outside. Roy pointed at the stranger and said, “It’s as bad as it looks.”
His father-in-law stared hard at the body before saying, “The sheriff and his men were here earlier looking for you. I guess a goblin said you needed help, and they weren’t sure if the pest was being honest.”
“He was. I found this man in the dark part of the woods. He’d dug open a burial mound looking for loot.”
His father-in-law spat. “There’s no telling what monsters he could have let out, but if you ask me the monster was on the outside of the mound. That mark running up his arm, what do you make of it?”
“Magic, the kind I want no part of.”
“That makes two of us. Any idea who he was?”
“He didn’t say before he died.” Roy was very careful not to say how the man had died. He trusted his in-laws, but they could tell men who told men who might look for the sword.
“You’ve been through a lot. Go inside and eat. I’ll take this fool to the sheriff and share what you’ve told me.”
“I want him to have a proper burial,” Roy insisted. “He was evil, but that’s all the more reason to make sure his body stays quiet.”
“We’ll do it in the morning,” his father-in-law promised before pulling the sledge away.
Exhausted, dispirited, hungry, Roy went in his house and tried to look better than he felt. He saw his wife waiting at the table with their son in her arms. Jenna was at her mother’s feet, waiting none too patiently for her chance to play with the baby. His sister-in-law and mother-in-law were behind them cleaning dishes.
Jenna looked over when she saw her father come in. The little girl’s eyes locked on Roy’s, and whatever she saw worried her. Jenna ran over and hugged his legs. “Mommy, hug daddy. Daddy needs hugs.”
Grace saw the look on her husband’s face and hurried over to embrace him. Even Esme’s cat ran over with a look on its face that said, 'dear God, what happened to you?' Roy wrapped his arms around his family and closed his eyes. The stranger had thrown away his life for a chance at riches. Roy had a family who loved him, a treasure greater than all the gold in the world.
*********
Roy stood over the cradle in his house, watching his son Tyler as the tiny baby gradually woke up. It was a slow process, with much yawning, wiggling, waving and kicking before the baby opened his eyes. Roy waited patiently for his son to decide whether it was worth waking up or not until the baby stared back at him. Satisfied that he wasn’t upsetting the baby’s sleep, Roy bent down and scooped up Tyler.
“I want to hug the baby,” Jenna pestered him. Roy’s daughter loved her baby brother, perhaps a bit too much. It wasn’t easy to explain being gentle to a girl not yet three years old.
“You’ll get your turn,” Roy told her. He cradled Tyler in his strong arms while the baby kicked his feet. At two months the boy couldn’t crawl, but he wiggled so much it was hard to hold him.
Jenna pouted and put her hands on her hips. “Want to hug baby now.”
Roy’s wife Grace laughed and scooped up her daughter. “There, there, let daddy play with Tyler.”
Roy shared his son’s restlessness and would have liked to walk around, but his small house didn’t leave room for pacing. The single room wood house was well made but small, and the stack of clay jars filled with food Grace had pickled for the winter left even less space. Nor could he take his son outside when the weather was cold. Confining as their small house was, it was about to get even smaller.
Grace took Jenna by the hand and led the girl to a wood chest filled with clothes. “Come on, I want you in your best dress for your grandparent’s visit.”
That made Roy smile. He was poor, all woodcutters were, so their best clothes were old and made of cheap cotton. The rest of their belongings were equally simple with no trappings of wealth, just two poor people, their young children and a mob of gray cats. Simple though their lives were, Grace wanted to put on the best possible face for her parents.
Keeping the house clean had been tricky even before they adopted the cats currently scattered across the room. The mother of those cats was a gray furred familiar of the late sorceress Esme, and the animal retained the magic Esme had poured into it. The cat had brought her kittens here after the sorceress passed away and had adopted Roy, Grace and Jenna as her new family. It was an unusual arrangement that worked after a fashion, even if Esme’s cat was at times a pest.
Getting Jenna clean and presentable was no small task, and Roy had to put his son back in the cradle to help when his daughter got fussy. Once Jenna was ready, Roy went to the door to wait for his in-laws. They’d be here soon to spend the day sharing gossip and stories of old times that always seemed to be better than the present.
He didn’t have long to wait. Roy smiled as his in-laws walked up to the house. He got along with them as well as could be expected, an odd situation when they were only ten years older than he was. Grace’s parents were wealthier than he was, but not by a large margin. Farming generated little more profit than woodcutting. They didn’t come alone, either, bringing their youngest daughter Stacy with them. Stacy was all of ten years old and bounding in her eagerness to see Roy’s children.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Roy told them as they came inside his meager house.
“It’s no hardship,” his father-in-law said. “The neighbors are looking after our livestock, and there’s no work in the fields this time of year. We have more than enough time to visit our grandkids. Jenna, look how you’ve grown!”
Normally Jenna was loving to a fault, but this time she raced to the cradle and put herself firmly between the baby and her grandparents. “My baby!”
Grace’s mother watched with some concern. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s our fault,” Grace explained. “Esme’s kittens are big enough to do their own hunting, even if they’re not very good at it. Roy and I wondered if we could give one or two away to the neighbors.”
“My kittens!” Jenna yelled. One of the gray cats rubbed up against her. Usually that was enough to distract the little girl, but not today.
“Now she’s convinced we’re giving away everything, including the baby,” Grace finished. Jenna ran over and tried to climb into the cradle with her baby brother. Grace picked up the little girl and said, “Jenna, only the baby goes in the cradle.”
Just then one of the cats jumped up into the cradle and lay down at the baby’s feet. The in-laws laughed while Grace scolded, “What did I just say?”
“They get into everything,” Roy added. He spotted movement in the supposedly empty stew pot and plucked out another cat. “They’re nearly grown and will leave soon whether we give them away or not. Still, I figure Esme’s cat will give us a new batch of kittens soon enough.”
Esme’s cat had been minding her own business in a corner when she heard this. The gray cat gave Roy a look that said ‘don’t judge me’ without saying a word.
“My baby, my kittens!” Jenna yelled. She was working herself into a tantrum.
Roy went over and scooped up his daughter. He held her against his chest and wrapped both arms around her. “Shh, it’s okay. No one is giving baby brother away. He’s ours forever and ever. That’s a promise, and daddy keeps his promises.”
Jenna calmed down slowly. Roy set her on the table and then picked up his infant son. He set the baby in Jenna’s lap and she grabbed him. The baby looked like he didn’t even notice the commotion and kicked his feet. Roy spotted his ten year old sister in-law waiting at his elbows with a smile.
“Stacy, you can play with them, but Jenna gets to hold the baby,” Roy said.
Stacy squealed in delight and wrapped her arms around her niece and nephew. “I’ll be extra special careful with them, and hug them and kiss them and hold them.”
Roy patted her on the back. “That’s a good girl. If you folks will excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“I wouldn’t mind helping,” his father-in-law offered.
“I might take you up on that another time, but it’s light duty today,” Roy said.
Grace handed him his ax before kissing him. “Mother and I will have a hot meal ready when you get back. You be careful.”
“I always am.”
Roy was about to leave when he saw Jenna give their guests dubious looks and said, “Don’t squish my baby.”
The extended family burst out laughing, letting Roy leave the house on a high note. He set his ax on the wood sledge he used to haul wood and pulled it to the nearby forest. Farming slowed down to a crawl during winter when there was nothing to do but look after animals, but woodcutting sped up in cold weather. There were no mosquitoes or biting flies to bedevil men, and cold air cut down on sweating. A thin layer of snow crunched under his feet as he left his family behind.
On his way there he passed the sheriff and four soldiers. The sheriff had been a busy man ever since winter started. Wolves were growing more desperate with the cold weather, and bandits were always a threat. Roy had been a soldier once and appreciated the risk those men took.
A soldier pointed at Roy and asked, “Sheriff, should we let him go in the woods alone?”
The man meant to be quiet, his voice just above a whisper, but it was as plain as day to Roy, as was the sheriff’s reply. “Roy is one of the 157. If there’s trouble, he can handle himself.”
Roy continued on as if he hadn’t heard them and entered the woods that other villagers avoided. Roy didn’t begrudge them such concern given the things he’d found among the trees. He’d come across the ruins of farmhouses long abandoned, nothing more than stone fireplaces and half rotted beams that used to be homes. To be fair, there were parts of the woods where even Roy didn’t go, old, malignant places best left forgotten.
Nor were the woods entirely empty. He’d seen odd tracks in the dirt from passing monsters, remains from their kills, and now and then he saw unidentifiable shapes moving in the distance. Most monsters kept their distance, wary of humans with steel axes. Over the years two beasts had shown poor judgment and attacked Roy. They’d been surprisingly tasty.
Entering the woods was a disorienting experience if you weren’t ready for it. The woods were dense with large trees growing close together. There were narrow trails that Roy knew by heart but few others did. You couldn’t see far even without the dense cloud cover overhead, and help was far away if a man was in danger.
Roy had seen a few promising dead trees last week that would make excellent firewood. Dry wood burned far better and cleaner than green wood, but those trees were deep in the forest. Going more than a mile into the woods held no real risk with the company he’d soon get.
“Hey there, champ,” a squeaky voice called out. Roy nodded to the messy goblin ambling through the woods. This one was squat, dirty, hairy, dressed in rags and had a wide mouth and head.
Roy tipped his hat to the goblin. “Hi, Gristle.”
“Getting away from your in-laws?” Gristle asked.
“No, just getting some work done. Snow doesn’t slow down my day.”
Gristle jumped onto Roy’s sledge. “Mine if I come along?”
Roy hesitated. “I’d rather be alone today.”
“That’s reason enough to stay with you. I can’t have you getting into one of your moods again, not with little tots at home.”
All manner of responses ran through Roy’s mind. During his years as a soldier he’d learned enough insults and obscenities to fill a book. It took some effort not to use them, but resisting the urge wasn’t that hard. After all, Gristle was right.
“How are the little ones doing?” Gristle asked as Roy pulled the goblin down the snowy trail.
“Jenna’s more of a handful than ever. She treats her brother like a new toy, one she’s not always careful with. Don’t get me wrong, she loves Tyler, but we’ve got to watch her around him so she doesn’t get too enthusiastic.”
Sounding cheerful, Gristle asked, “And the little man?”
Roy smiled. “He wiggles so much I wish I had another pair of arms to hold him. Always moving around, kicking and waving his arms.”
“Now there’s your real problem. What you’ve got is an ambitious baby. Most little ones are happy to let people feed them and clean up after them. That’s the life! But your kid’s got gumption. You mark my words, he won’t be satisfied just sitting around. Before you know it he’ll set out on an epic quest.”
Roy stopped and turned around to give the goblin a disbelieving look. “He’s two months old.”
“It could happen any day.”
This bizarre conversation was typical of interactions with goblins. They were stupid and a bit crazy, making dealings with them nearly impossible. Roy had also heard that goblins were mischievous and set traps for the unwary, but he didn’t believe it. Gristle and his fellow goblins had never bothered him in the slightest.
Gristle bounded off the sledge and walked alongside Roy. “So does that make them 158 and 159?”
Roy froze. “What?”
“I’ve heard people call you 157, so if you’ve got two kids that would make them—”
“No!” Roy’s shout startled the goblin. It took some effort for him to calm down. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t like that nickname, never have, and I don’t want it to ruin them the way it did me.”
Gristle paused. “You want to talk about it?”
This wasn’t a topic he was comfortable with, but he knew Gristle wouldn’t let it go. Best to clear the air before the goblin started making guesses and spreading confusion.
“You know how I was drafted into the army,” Roy began. “Those weren’t good times. The king needed men to stop the Skitherin invasion. It was only supposed to be for a year, but once we beat back the first invasion there was another one, and another after that. They thought they had us nearly beaten and needed one more battle to break us. The king needed his army ready to deal with it, so we never went home, ten years of one invasion after another.”
“Ten years?” Gristle asked. “Didn’t Skitherin soldiers get tired of losing?”
“Every loss left dead to be avenged,” Roy explained. “Every war put them deeper in debt they could only cover by looting our kingdom. They gave up only when they couldn’t afford to lose any more men or pay the ones they had.
“The last battle was the worst. Skitherin generals gambled everything on one last push. They sent eleven thousand men across the Yathin Plains at our army. We were dug in with trenches, barricades, forts and even had three wizards. There was no way they could break us, but there was a narrow mountain pass leading into the plains that led to the back of our army. Our general sent my regiment to cover the pass.”
“And they attacked the pass,” Gristle said.
“Two thousand of them,” Roy replied. He winced as memories flooded back. “We had eight hundred men. The pass was narrow enough that two hundred men could block it. That’s what saved us. They couldn’t swarm us, but every time we defeated one company they’d send another. If we’d retreated those soldiers would have hit our army from the rear, so we held.”
Roy stopped and sat on his sledge. “The battle on the plain was a rousing success, enough to make sure Skitherin wouldn’t invade again for generations. When our general sent word for us to return, the messenger found 157 of us alive and only 23 still standing. We’d held the pass, and we paid for it.
“The healer who found me said my wounds were so serious I wouldn’t survive the night. A week later they told me I’d never walk again. By the time our general finally let us go home they said I’d never be normal. They were wrong the first two times. I wonder about the third warning.”
Gristle didn’t answer, instead watching Roy. Roy looked at the goblin and said, “I was called to serve and I did, coming home with scars, empty pockets and nightmares that won’t stop. The first year back was the worst. I built my house at the edge of the village and became a woodcutter because I didn’t want to be around other people. I came so close to coming apart at the seams, sometimes breaking down in tears twice a week. I was honestly shocked when Grace came to check up on me and bring me meals.”
“Her mother told her to do that,” Gristle said.
“I figured that out eventually.” Roy gave the goblin a curious look and asked, “How’d you know?”
Gristle shrugged. “People say things when they’re in bed at night and think they’re alone.”
“That’s really disturbing.”
Gristle grinned. “You don’t know the half of it. But it all turned out for the best. You and Grace spent time together, she got you hitched, and now you’ve got two of the cutest kids I’ve seen. When are you going to bring them with you to work? You don’t get all weepy or beat trees to bits anymore.”
Roy trudged deeper into the woods. “Too risky. They could get lost out here, especially Jenna. But, ah, I appreciate you and the other goblins living here not telling anyone about my breakdowns.”
“Of course we didn’t. You don’t hit a guy when he’s down.”
Roy laughed. “I’m down?”
“You used to be,” Gristle said. “Still kind of are.”
Collecting firewood was only one reason why Roy had come out today. He’d picked up a lot of bad habits from his days as a soldier, including poaching. A fellow recruit had taught him how to set snares and how to spot the best places to put them. Hunger had compelled Roy to become a good student. Leaving the army should have meant giving up the practice, but woodcutters were notoriously poor, and he had children to feed. No one minded him taking squirrels or rabbits provided he didn’t flaunt his catches and occasionally shared the meat.
The first snare was set on a small game trail. Animals used the same paths over and over during the winter so they didn’t have to constantly make new trails in the snow. This snare was empty, but he’d set many such snares. He checked the next one and found it empty with no new tracks in the snow. Then he got to the third snare.
“This is new,” Roy said.
Gristle walked over. “What?”
Roy held up the snare. His snares were simple affairs made of wood and sinew, but this one was different because the loop of sinew that caught animals was gone. “This wasn’t torn or chewed off. It was cut with a sharp knife.”
“You’re the only human who comes in these woods,” Gristle said. “Me and the boys don’t have sharp knives or bother your snares.”
“Somebody’s been here and helped themselves.” Roy bent down and looked for tracks. The snow layer was so thin it didn’t preserve tracks well, but there were large scuffmarks. “I don’t like this.”
“When did you set the snare?” Gristle asked.
“Yesterday night.”
Gristle waddled off the trail and politely knocked on a large tree stump. Moments later a door opened on the stump and another goblin came out. “Somebody swiped one of Roy’s bunnies. You see who did it?”
The new goblin hurried over and looked at the snare. “No. Didn’t hear anything, either. What jerk would take food out of a poor little baby’s mouth? I’ll fetch the sheriff.”
Roy grabbed the goblin by the arm before he’d gone three steps. “Let’s not bother him with this. I don’t mind sharing food with a soul in need, but honest men would come forward and announce themselves.”
Gristle scratched his head. “That means we have a dishonest man. What’s he here for?”
“I’ll check the rest of my snares,” Roy said. “Ask if other goblins saw anyone.”
Roy and the goblins parted company, giving him much needed peace and quiet to think. He didn’t want the sheriff involved for two reasons, even if it made the situation riskier. The first was he didn’t want to be caught poaching. He could destroy his snares and scatter the pieces if he had to, but that meant rebuilding them and no fresh meat for days. The other reason was that this stranger might not be a villain. He could be a smuggler, another poacher, maybe an army deserter, none of which Roy considered serious offenses. The sheriff might disagree, and crimes were harshly punished. Roy had to see who this was before bringing in the law.
That meant finding the stranger. Roy was good at tracking prey and used those same skills here. Cold made the ground hard and less likely to preserve tracks, and the snow had been so light that much of the ground was bare. He spent nearly an hour searching before he found a footprint. It was an inch smaller than his and rounded at the sides. More searching turned up identical prints, but all facing different directions. He couldn’t say which direction the person was going in.
“Hey there, soldier boy,” Gristle called out. Roy looked up from one of the tracks to find a dozen goblins approaching him. Gristle pointed at a thin goblin wearing glasses and said, “He’s got news for you, not all good.”
The thin goblin stepped away from the rest of the mob and took off his glasses. Wiping them off on his raggedy shirt, he said, “I saw a man carrying two rabbits in the woods late last night. Betting money says they’re yours. Guy was wearing ratty clothes, worse than us, and he looked thin. He was heading into the dark parts of the woods.”
“So, he’s a moron,” another goblin said.
“More than most humans,” Gristle replied. “Not everybody who goes in there comes out. Some of the ones who do leave behind arms, legs, important stuff like that.”
“There’s no good reasons for a man to go there,” Roy said. Problem was there were bad reasons to enter the dark woods. Grandmothers told stories about the bad old days of the elf civil war, where warlords had tried to seize the throne, or barring that carve out a piece of the empire for themselves. Modern wars couldn’t compare to the savageness of those decades of endless conflict.
One of the stories said that a battle took place not far from where the village was today. It had been farmland at the time, rich and productive according to the stories, and two armies fought over it. When they were done thousands had died and too few had survived to give them proper burials. Instead the bodies had been piled up and covered with stones and soil. The land never bore good fruit after that and trees gradually took over. Centuries later the taint was lessened but not gone, and wise men stayed well clear.
“Dragon lairs are safer than those woods,” Gristle said. “Why would he go there?”
“He could be a necromancer,” Roy told the goblins. “Old battlefields like that have bones they could use for their magic. He could be a thief looking for loot. God only knows what could be left over after so long. Worst answer is he could be trying to contact monsters living there, make deals with them, make offerings.”
Gristle’s face turned pale. “Oh boy.”
Roy took the axe off his sledge and pointed at the goblins. “There’s not a moment to lose. Tell the sheriff he’s needed and to bring his men. Spread the word to the village that they need to keep an eye out for this stranger. He’s either evil or stupid enough to get good men killed.”
“Exactly what are you going to do while we spread fear and despair?” a goblin asked.
“I’m going after him before he does something dumb.” Roy marched in the direction of the deep woods, getting only a few feet before he heard footsteps behind him. Eleven goblins were following him into danger. “What are you waiting for?”
Gristle pointed at a goblin running off into the distance. “We sent Biff to warn everyone. It shouldn’t take more than one goblin to start a panic.”
“You can’t come with me. This is going to be dangerous.”
“That’s why we’re coming with you,” Gristle said. “There’s exactly one person around here we can talk with: you. We don’t give up on friends.”
“I,” he began before stopping. Help was coming only if the goblin could both find the sheriff and convince him to come, no easy feat. That meant waiting for help that might never arrive, going for the sheriff himself or going after this deranged stranger who willingly went into dark places. There was no telling what damage this fool might do or how long he’d been in the woods. He could have released some horror that could threaten his village, his family. Waiting wasn’t an option. And there was a very real chance he was going to be outclassed. Goblins weren’t strong, fast or smart, but they were the only support he had.
Roy pointed his ax at the goblins. “If you’re coming, you follow orders. No heroics. We bring him in, one way or the other, and I’ll see him in a grave rather than any of you.”
“Got it,” Gristle told him.
Roy headed into the deep woods with the goblins steps behind him. Twice he actually had to glance back to make sure they were there because they were so quiet. Any doubts about his new followers quickly vanished when he saw the determination in their eyes. There was a threat in these woods, a risk to men as well as goblins, and they meant to end it.
They didn’t have to go far to reach the deep woods. Trees here grew large since no one harvested them, but they grew in unnatural patterns, with spiraling branches and corkscrewing trunks. Strange rocks jutted up from the ground to form patterns that were both unrecognizable and still intimidating. There were no animals, and birds flew around this portion of the woods rather than go over it.
Large white marble statues showing a man praying marked the separation between the deep woods and the regular forest. Roy saw one near the trail and two more in the distance. Gristle pointed at the nearest statue and said, “I’ve seen these, but I don’t know what they’re for.”
“Barrier statues,” Roy explained. “Years ago the Brotherhood of the Righteous placed a ring of them around the deep woods to seal in the taint and darkness, and at the same time fight it. Every seven years brotherhood priests move the statues a little father into the woods. I saw Father Amadeus Firepower lead a group of priests to move the statues last winter. They only put them forward ten feet. Word is that one day these statues will remove all traces of evil here, but it won’t happen in my lifetime.”
“But they hold the bad monsters in?” Gristle pressed.
“Usually. The real powerful ones can force their way through. My father said that happened eight years before I was born. It took the whole village to kill it, plus a lot of soldiers and a few adventurers.” Roy paused before stepping past the line of statues. “I won’t blame you for turning back.”
“I heard you and the sheriff both went into the deep woods and came back okay,” Gristle said. “If you can do it, so can we.”
“Yeah, that happened. We were chasing an escaped convict who ran into the woods. The fool ignored the statues and went right into the worst part of the woods.”
“Did you find him?” another goblin asked.
Roy grimaced at the memory. “Most of him.”
Near the statues were footprints identical to the ones Roy had already found. There were enough tracks to make a definite trail. Roy frowned and traced his fingers over a part of the trail where the snow had been trampled so often it had melted.
“This many tracks means he’s been here for a while,” Roy told the goblins.
“But you only lost bunnies to this jerk last night,” Gristle said. “What was he eating before that?”
“He must have brought food with him, or set trap lines of his own in other parts of the woods I don’t visit.” Roy rubbed his chin and pointed down the trail. “Word is the burial mounds aren’t far from here. Looks like that’s where he made camp. Brace yourselves.”
Roy and the goblins ventured further into the depths of the woods. Shadows grew longer and darker. Plants grew into warped versions of normal objects and even animals. A strange whispering sound called out from the woods, like multiple voices speaking at once so it was impossible to understand.
One goblin turned to face where the whispers were coming from and asked, “Are you giving stock tips?”
There was a long, awkward pause before the conflicting voices grumbled and fell silent.
“Keep quiet,” Roy said. He squinted and spotted a light ahead of them. It could be a will-o wisp or other spirit trying to trick travelers into following it into dangerous places like pits and bogs, but the light wasn’t moving. He waved for the goblins to stay back and approached it. That required crossing a river large enough that it was still free of ice. Roy picked his way across rocks rising up from the water and reached the other side.
It was bad. Not far past the riverbank was a burial mound thirty feet long and eight feet high. Mostly it was made of rocks with dead weeds sticking out, but where the rocks separated Roy saw dirt froze solid. What chilled him to the bone was the gaping hole in the side of the mound. Someone had dug into it, dumping stone, frozen dirt, yellowed bones and rusty bits of metal.
Next to the mound was a crude camp with a fire pit lined with rocks and filled with burning logs. Roy picked through the camp and found rabbit bones stripped of meat and broken open for the marrow. A pickaxe, hammer and bedroll were next to the fire pit, but no one was present.
Clunk. The sound came from the hole in the burial mound. Roy edged closer while more sounds came from the hole. As he neared the mound he saw a weapon wrapped in leather. Roy picked it up and took off the wrapping to reveal a sword that gleamed like it was fresh from the forge. The edge was sharp, and there was black writing on the blade. Roy put it down at once.
Clunk. A rock flew out of the hole in the mound, followed by a small pile of broken bones. Roy had enough familiarity with bodies that he identified them as human remains of great age. He heard someone cough and swear, and then a raggedy man stepped out of the hole and set down a shovel.
The stranger was a man, a bit shorter than Roy and a good deal thinner, wearing threadbare clothes and a patched cloak. Roy guessed the stranger’s age at twenty, maybe a year or two older, but no more than that. He had brown hair and brown eyes that locked onto Roy the moment he left the mound. The stranger said nothing as he ran for the sword.
Roy swung his ax at the man’s heels. He timed the blow carefully to catch the stranger with the ax handle rather than the blade, tripping him instead of maiming him. The stranger cried out in pain as he fell to the frozen ground. Roy kneeled down on the man’s back to pin him down.
The stranger struggled beneath him. “Get off me!”
“What’s your name?”
“Get off!”
Roy pressed down on the man as hard as he could. “I found you desecrating a grave. You could have woken up spirits with your digging. Not a man alive would blame me for turning you over to the sheriff or taking your life here and now. Your name.”
The stranger wiggled underneath him, helpless to get away with the larger and stronger man on him. “Nobody you know is buried here.”
Roy swung his ax into the ground three inches from the stranger’s head. “There’s got to be a hundred people buried here, men or elves makes no difference, and at least another twenty mounds just as big. That’s a lot of people who died in battle and were covered over, no funeral, no holy man offering prayers to keep dark spirits from finding their bodies and moving in. This part of the woods is tainted from what happened. You can feel it, hear it, and you opened up a burial mound. That’s a hanging offense if the spirits in the mound don’t kill you first.”
The stranger laughed at him. “You think I’m worried about spirits? I’m worried about starving! I had nothing, no coin, no goods, no hope, and you worry about spirits. There’s money in these mounds, pay the soldiers had when they were buried, rings, amulets, magic! I need it!”
Roy reached for the sword, but it was too far from him. He hit the stranger in the side of the head with the butt of his ax blade before getting up and taking the sword. The stranger staggered to his feet, stopping when he saw Roy holding the blade.
“There aren’t coins or jewelry in mounds like this,” Roy said. “Soldiers don’t bury the dead with anything they can use, so if you find anything they didn’t want, you can be sure it’s not worth having. This is what you risked your life for? This sword?”
“It’s magic,” the stranger said. “I know it is.”
“I know it is, too. What makes you think the soldiers who made this burial mound couldn’t tell the same thing? They buried it rather than keep it. That should tell you the kind of magic it is.”
Roy threw the sword aside and pointed his ax at the stranger. “I’ve seen magic before. Most of it was cheap dwarf workmanship, more likely to fall apart than do what it promised. I’ve seen a few pieces of old elf magic dating from their empire, works of art that could kill a man at a hundred paces. And I’ve seen magic like this. It’s an old sorcerer lords magic item. Their power comes at a terrible price. That’s why the soldiers buried it. They saw what it did to the man who used it and were smart enough to leave it here.”
The stranger scowled at Roy and rubbed where he’d been hit. “There are still folks who will pay for it.”
“And die from it! Can you read?” When the stranger nodded, Roy said, “The writing on the blade says, ‘None may harm thee for a thousand heartbeats, then be stilled’, right over an old glyph for shadows. If that doesn’t scare you, then you’re a fool ten times over. The one time I saw a man with a sorcerer lord magic item, it was a magic ring he used to kill a dozen men. The ring had to be recharged after being used. It recharged itself by turning him to dust, then was ready to kill again. Sorcerer lord magic is like that. If you don’t know what you’re doing it costs you, and it’s not cheap.”
“What fool would make a magic weapon that hurts its owner?” the stranger demanded.
“I don’t know,” Roy answered. Wizards had never made sense to him. Many wizards he’d met were so arrogant they seemed to think they weren’t human anymore, but something new and superior. “Maybe there’s a way to use them where you don’t get killed. Maybe only sorcerer lords could use them without dying so nobody could steal their magic. Maybe the wizard who made this was stark raving mad. That’s something you should appreciate after desecrating a burial mound.”
“It’s not that simple!” the stranger yelled. “You stand here and judge me, talking about danger and risks like you know what it means! This morning I had my first meal in five days. I’ve got no one to turn to for help, no one who cares whether I live or die. I take chances because I have no choice.”
Roy pointed at the stranger’s right hand. “You already took a big chance. I saw the bleeding crown brand mark on your hand. That’s the mark of the Fallen King, a disgraced royal who rounded up an army of thieves and bandits to overthrow his father. I’d heard they all died. Guess at least one of you got away.”
“I know men who will buy the sword, no questions asked,” the stranger said. “They’re smart, the kind who can figure out how to use it without getting killed. The money’s enough to live off for years.”
The stranger edged closer. “You’re a poor man yourself. Don’t lie to me! I can see it. Those are old clothes, and that ax has seen a lot of use. You came here to get wood for your fireplace or to fix up your home. No buying what you need, you have to get it all yourself, find it or earn it or take it. We can split the money.”
Roy gripped his ax with both hands. “You’d kill me the first chance you get, and whoever you’re thinking of selling this to will kill you for the sword instead of paying.”
“I’m not walking away from this, and I’m not going to jail,” the stranger said.
“Jail or the grave,” Roy said. “I can’t let you leave after what you’ve done. You’re not my match, boy, not by a long shot. Don’t be stupid.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed and he balled up his fists. Roy readied himself for what was sure to be a reckless charge, a threat that ended when the burial mound began to stir. The center of the mound bulged out, rocks sliding away, aged bones pushing to the surface, and a high pitched howl pieced the air.
Roy recognized the sound. “Barrow wight. Get behind me or you’re lunch.”
The burial mound burst open as a single barrow wight broke free. It was hideous to behold, like a man bleached of color with white eyes, long black hair, sharp nails and pointed teeth. It stank of rotting meat, an overpowering stench that threatened to make Roy throw up.
The creature’s name meant ‘tomb man’ in an old and forgotten tongue, a dead body possessed by some fell spirit after the soul had left. Roy had seen such monsters on battlefields after dark, feeding on the dead and hunting stragglers. Barrow wights hated sunlight, but a cloudy winter day like this was just dark enough for their liking. They were hard to kill and hard to keep dead. Was this horror strong enough to cross the barrier statues and attack his village? Roy didn’t know. He couldn’t let it escape when it might attack his family.
The barrow wight charged Roy and leapt at him. Roy ran to the left and swung his ax, missing it by inches. It bounded after him and went for his face. Roy struck it across the jaw, a wound it healed from the moment the ax head pulled out. Making matters worse, the stranger did the stupidest thing imaginable, grabbing the sword and pressing his thumb against the glyph for shadows.
“You fool, no!” Roy yelled.
The warning was too late. The black letters turned gold and the sword glittered like the sun. He charged the barrow wight and drove the sword through its gut. The second he pulled the sword out the wound closed, and the barrow wight turned to face him. It jumped on him, biting and clawing. To Roy’s shock the barrow wight’s attacks were totally useless. Its claws shredded the man’s thin clothes but left his skin intact. The stranger stabbed it again and again, only for its wounds to heal. The two were locked in a vicious and pointless battle where neither could kill the other.
Roy ran after them as the barrow wight shoved the stranger against the burial mound. It savage attacks laid his chest bare without so much as leaving a scratch. Roy struck the barrow wight from behind and did no real damage. It turned toward him as the stranger raised his sword.
“Aim for the joints!” Roy shouted. The stranger either didn’t hear him or didn’t care as his sword came down on the barrow wight’s chest. The blade went halfway through the monster, only for the damage to heal around the sword. The barrow wight pushed the stranger back until the sword came free, and the wound fully healed.
With the barrow wight’s attention on the stranger, Roy had another opportunity to strike. He swung hard and hit the monster’s right arm at the shoulder. The ax went fully through and took off the arm. The barrow wight howled and knocked Roy aside with its other arm. The stranger attacked again but missed. The barrow wight’s retaliation tore the stranger’s shirt to pieces without drawing blood. The magic sword was a potent weapon, but it claimed there was a time limit for its gifts. Roy had to end this fight fast.
Roy got up and swung his ax again, catching the barrow wight’s right knee. Again his ax went fully through its target, costing the barrow wight a leg. It fell screaming to the ground, and Roy stood over it and swung again, this time aiming for the monster’s neck.
Whack! The barrow wight fell silent.
“It’s dead!” the stranger yelled in triumph.
Roy raised his ax again. “Not even close.”
Four more times Roy swung his ax until the barrow wight was in pieces. Breathing hard and covered in sweat despite the cold, he stepped back and leaned against a tree. “That should keep it quiet for now, but it can heal from even this. We have to burn the pieces individually to keep it from recovering.”
Roy was going to tell the stranger how easily he could have been killed if the barrow wight had taken him by surprise, or how great a threat the monster would have been to neighboring villages, but he didn’t get the chance. Instead he dropped to his knees as the stranger swung the magic sword at his head. The blow missed Roy and cut the tree down with one swing. Roy sidestepped the next swing and the one after that.
“I saved your life!” Roy yelled. The stranger didn’t slow his attacks for a second, lashing out with all the skill of a drunken halfwit. He obviously had no training with a sword, but the magic blade could cut Roy apart if the fool got lucky.
Roy scowled and swung his ax with lethal intent. He hit the stranger across the face with enough force to knock the fool back three feet, but the ax did no more damage than the barrow wight’s claws had. He followed up with a swing at the stranger’s sword hand that would have crippled anyone else, yet did nothing but force the stranger back.
Roy dodged a clumsy swing aimed at his legs, but he was holding his ax too low and the sword took off the ax head with contemptible ease. Roy was unarmed and fighting a man he couldn’t hurt. The stranger tried to run him through, missing by an inch as Roy threw himself to the left. He got as many trees as he could between himself and his enemy, watching in horror as the stranger hacked through every obstacle in his way.
With the stranger steps behind him, Roy ran for his life. His enemy was an idiot, but he knew Roy could tell the authorities what had happened here, and his magic invulnerability wouldn’t last forever. A thousand heartbeats, how long did that take? The faster a man ran and fought the harder his heart beat, so the magic might only last another few minutes. Even when it was done, Roy didn’t have a weapon. He ran to the safety of his home village, praying he could keep ahead of this madman long enough to reach help.
Panting and exhausted, Roy reached the river and ran from rock to rock to cross it. The stranger wasn’t so careful and splashed through the cold water, soaking himself in the process. Roy stumbled on the last rock and fell on his face. He scrambled away on all fours, looking behind him as the stranger raised his sword with a crazed look in his eyes.
Splat! A gob of mud splattered against the stranger’s face. Three more followed and hit him in the chest. The fifth one hit him in the eyes and blinded him. The stranger howled and clawed at his eyes with his left hand while he swung the sword wildly in front of him. Splat! More mud gobs followed, one right in his mouth. The stranger gagged as he tried to cough up the mud.
Roy turned to see Gristle and the goblins standing at the edge of the river as he’d instructed. They held their ground and grabbed icy cold handfuls of mud to throw at the stranger. With impressive aim they splattered him across nearly his entire body. It was a temporary delay at best, but one Roy needed badly.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!” the stranger screamed as he cleared mud from his eyes. The man splashed through the river while goblins continued pelting him with mud. Some threw rocks, which did no damage, and others raised clubs to meet him when he finished crossing the river. Two more mud balls hit the stranger in the face, blinding him again and giving Roy the time he needed to regain his footing and grab a long branch off the ground.
Then the sword stopped glowing. The writing on the blade turned black as its enchantment faded, and the stranger winced when the goblins hit him with rocks. Whatever pain those caused paled in comparison to what happened as the sword turned entirely black, an encroaching darkness that spread onto his hand.
“Drop the sword!” Roy screamed. “Drop it before it kills you!”
The stranger stared in horror as the utter blackness stretched up his arm. “I can’t! My fingers won’t move!”
Roy’s anger at the man’s attack was replaced by fear as the sword extracted the price for its aid. This man was violent, stupid, ungrateful, but Roy had seen too many men die to ever want it again. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a way to save the fool.
The darkness spread further. The stranger held out his arm and cried out, “Cut it off!”
Roy held up his ax, its head hacked off during his battle with the stranger. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
There was a terrible bang like a thunderclap as the darkness raced up the stranger’s arm to his heart. The stranger looked at Roy and said, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” and fell dead.
The goblins backed away. Gristle asked, “What happened to him?”
Roy’s heart was beating as fast as a racehorse as he stared at the stranger. “The sword, it’s magic, but it’s cursed. It promised him invincibility for a thousand heartbeats then be stilled. I wasn’t sure what that meant when I first read it, but now I do. After those thousand heartbeats the sword stopped his heart.”
It was so stupid. The stranger had risked his life for the very weapon that had taken it, an act of cruelty perpetrated by a sorcerer lord who must have died over a thousand years ago. There the sword sat in the river, shiny again now that it had extracted its toll, waiting for its next victim too desperate or foolish to understand the dire risk. Roy could return it to the burial mound, but one person had already been willing to plunder it, so another man could be just as stupid.
“No more,” Roy said. He grabbed the sword and plunged it into the wet ground near the river. He drove it down as far as he could, then grabbed a large rock and slammed it into the butt of the sword like a hammer to force it down further. Roy growled his hatred as he forced the sword ever deeper until only the handle stuck up from the mud. He piled rocks around it and then covered that with mud.
Gristle and the goblins gathered around and helped. Where Roy had been trying to bury the blade, the goblins worked to conceal it. They were naturals at camouflage and reshaped the riverbank around the buried sword. Goblins moved large rocks and mud until they made a new bend in the river that looked as if it had always been there. The magic sword was buried in that new bend where no one would think to look for it. Gristle then led the goblins in replanting small pine trees around the sword where their roots would wrap around it.
“A barrow wight came out of the mound,” Roy told the goblins. “I need as much dry wood as you can find to burn it.”
“We can do that,” Gristle told him. He looked at the stranger and asked, “What about him?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do what’s right.”
* * * * *
Roy was late getting back home. He found the place alive with activity as his relatives laughed and played with Roy’s children. He dragged his sledge to the woodpile and left it there. Roy’s mother-in-law came out of the house and saw him take his ax head from his pocket.
“There you are,” she said cheerfully. “We were beginning to worry. What did you catch this time?”
She looked at the sledge and saw the stranger laying on it. She gasped at the sight. Roy stepped in front of her and put a hand on her shoulder. “The children can’t know about this. Smile for them. Tell your husband that I need his help outside. Then play with the children and keep them inside. Please.”
Roy’s mother-in-law nodded and forced a smile. She went inside and closed the door behind her. Roy waited until his father-in-law came outside. Roy pointed at the stranger and said, “It’s as bad as it looks.”
His father-in-law stared hard at the body before saying, “The sheriff and his men were here earlier looking for you. I guess a goblin said you needed help, and they weren’t sure if the pest was being honest.”
“He was. I found this man in the dark part of the woods. He’d dug open a burial mound looking for loot.”
His father-in-law spat. “There’s no telling what monsters he could have let out, but if you ask me the monster was on the outside of the mound. That mark running up his arm, what do you make of it?”
“Magic, the kind I want no part of.”
“That makes two of us. Any idea who he was?”
“He didn’t say before he died.” Roy was very careful not to say how the man had died. He trusted his in-laws, but they could tell men who told men who might look for the sword.
“You’ve been through a lot. Go inside and eat. I’ll take this fool to the sheriff and share what you’ve told me.”
“I want him to have a proper burial,” Roy insisted. “He was evil, but that’s all the more reason to make sure his body stays quiet.”
“We’ll do it in the morning,” his father-in-law promised before pulling the sledge away.
Exhausted, dispirited, hungry, Roy went in his house and tried to look better than he felt. He saw his wife waiting at the table with their son in her arms. Jenna was at her mother’s feet, waiting none too patiently for her chance to play with the baby. His sister-in-law and mother-in-law were behind them cleaning dishes.
Jenna looked over when she saw her father come in. The little girl’s eyes locked on Roy’s, and whatever she saw worried her. Jenna ran over and hugged his legs. “Mommy, hug daddy. Daddy needs hugs.”
Grace saw the look on her husband’s face and hurried over to embrace him. Even Esme’s cat ran over with a look on its face that said, 'dear God, what happened to you?' Roy wrapped his arms around his family and closed his eyes. The stranger had thrown away his life for a chance at riches. Roy had a family who loved him, a treasure greater than all the gold in the world.
June 10, 2019
William Bradshaw and Urban Problems part 3
Chapter 3
Will and his friends studied the remains of the bronze monster that had tried to kill them. The troll brothers and Hugh Timbers pulled it apart to reveal bewildering mechanical and magical bits inside its bronze shell. Will sorted through the wreckage and picked up a clear, slender crystal with a crack running through it.
“Is any of this dangerous?” Will asked Percy. “We can throw it down a bottomless pit if it’s poisonous or going to explode.”
“It’s harmless now,” Percy said sadly. He picked up a hollow sphere from the wreckage and tossed it aside. “That battle was a bad sign. Sarcamusaad didn’t even try to communicate with us. I wonder if his time alone in the ocean drove him mad.”
“It doesn’t sound like he was too stable to begin with,” Domo replied as he dug through the metal remains.
Will glanced at Percy. “What I want to know is how Sarcamusaad found you. You’re a long way from your people, and the Kingdom of the Goblins didn’t exist when Sarcamusaad went underwater. How’d he know
you were here?”
“Sarcamusaad is a puppet person, as I am,” Percy replied. “While he is much larger and vastly more powerful, he has many of the same abilities. One of those is the ability to sense magic, especially other puppet people.”
“How does that work?” Will asked.
“It’s difficult to describe to someone who can’t do it,”
Percy said. “It’s a scent we get when we’re close to magic, or a feeling. The stronger the magic the more it tastes, if that’s the right word. I can feel your magic scepter from thirty paces away, and a more powerful item from sixty or seventy paces. I can sense other puppet people at ten times that distance.”
Will twirled his scepter. “So you figure the scout was getting the lay of the land and just happened to be close enough to sniff you out.”
“I believe so,” Percy replied. “We shouldn’t linger by the remains. Sarcamusaad may send more scouts to see what happened.”
“Can he fix this one?” Will asked.
Percy looked at the wreckage. “I don’t know.”
Will led his friends back to the ruins of the Goblin City, stopping only long enough to take the table and chairs before going into the tunnels below. Along the way they attracted a fair number of goblins that had heard of the attack and decided it was more important than their civil war. Will took the growing crowd to the throne room to plan their next move.
The room’s name was misleading. While Will now had a bedroom overflowing with furniture thanks to a king he’d once helped, the king hadn’t sent a throne. The only furniture here consisted of a few old crates and an empty barrel. But the room was large enough to accommodate everyone, and seeing as he was dealing with a fellow leader it was probably the best place to use.
“London, if you could bring Gladys?” Will asked.
“No sweat,” London said. He nudged his brother and told him, “Keep him out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“How could I get in trouble in my throne room?” Will protested.
London left the room, saying, “You always get in trouble. That’s why it’s fun working for you.”
“Never a dull moment around here, just the way we like it,” Brooklyn agreed cheerfully.
Mr. Niff smiled. “You’ve come close to getting your ticket punched so often that the guys started a betting pool on who might try to kill you next. My money is on ‘attacked by enraged woodchucks’, but there are good odds on ‘chased off cliff by moose’ and ‘sat on by yeti’.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking bets on how I’ll die?”
“Almost die,” Mr. Niff corrected him.
Will shook his head. “Okay, getting back on topic. I’m a little short on details here. I get that this is bad, but not how bad. And I’m trying really hard not to sound like a jerk, but exactly why is this our problem and not someone else’s?”
“Technically Sarcamusaad is everyone’s problem,” Percy replied. “Sarcamusaad has been called one of the fifty most powerful magic items in existence, which is a tad insulting as he is an intelligent being, not an item. He is among the most dangerous beings alive. No known person or beast could fight him and hope to win. The largest of armies would face ruinous losses against him, and their victory would be far from assured. Even his mere passing through a nation would be devastating.”
London came back with Gladys and set her down in front of Will. Gladys was a magic mirror, six feet tall with a bronze frame covered in eagle motifs and standing on two bronze eagle feet. The mirror’s surface showed Gladys as an overweight middle-aged woman with blond hair. She wore too much makeup and a garish pink and yellow dress.
“Just the person I wanted to talk to,” Will said.
“So, we’re screwed,” Gladys said.
“Inelegant, but correct,” Percy replied.
Gladys pouted. “I saw the fight through a scarecrow. If it takes that much to bring down a little one, I don’t want to know what it takes to stop the big one.”
Will pulled up a crate and sat down in front of Gladys. “I need whatever you have on Sarcamusaad.”
Gladys frowned as a bookcase appeared behind her inside the mirror. Taking a book out, she said, “There’s not much I can tell you. Sarcamusaad was built long ago by a group of humans called the Crafters. The Crafters lived in a small kingdom north of here that included parts of our kingdom. They stole dwarf magic secrets on building golems, but that wasn’t as useful as they’d hoped. Golems need constant supervision, break down a lot and are expensive. Crafters spent years researching better forms of golems until they made the purple puppet people.”
“We are indebted to them,” Percy said solemnly.
Gladys stared at Percy in disbelief. “They made you for slave labor.”
“I said we are indebted to them. I didn’t say we liked them.”
“I wouldn’t, either,” she said. “Crafters built thousands of purple puppet people to be their workers and soldiers. Puppet people built the cities, grew the food and protected them from their enemies. The bums didn’t do anything for themselves. You’d think that would be enough, but it wasn’t. Some of the Crafters decided to stage a coup and take over the kingdom. They lost and were driven out, swearing eternal vengeance.”
“I’m suddenly happy I never met these people,” Will said.
“Oh yeah, they were scum,” Gladys replied. “Roughly half the Crafters fled the kingdom and headed south with the other half hot on their heels. The renegade Crafters stole boats and escaped by sea. They settled on the island of Muramal, a tropical paradise where they should have lived happily ever after if they weren’t such jerks.”
Gladys pressed a book up against the mirror’s surface. The pages showed people building a large city by the sea. There were huge buildings, tall towers, imposing walls, and what looked suspiciously like cannons.
“Cannons?” Will asked. “These guys had cannons?”
“Magic cannons,” Percy replied. “They use four magic wands or scepters bundled together inside each barrel. The wands fire as one, meaning the cannons are capable of inflicting tremendous damage at incredible range. The design went out of production long ago because they were expensive and hard to make. If the cannons weren’t built exactly right they exploded when first used.”
Vial perked up and scurried over to Percy. “Really? How would one go about making one of these wonders?”
“Don’t answer that,” Will told Percy. “Go on, Gladys.”
“The renegade Crafters made Sarcamusaad to get their revenge,” Gladys continued. “Instead of making an army of man-sized puppets they made one as big as a city. The project took years and the renegade Crafters shot at anyone who came close to their island. One of the few ship captains who survived their attacks made these drawings.”
“Percy said the men who made Sarcamusaad all died,” Will said. “With guns like that, who could kill them?”
Gladys pulled her book back and turned a page. “Nobody knows. Ships steered clear of Muramal for years after the first few were fired on. One day a merchant ship saw a small boat leave Muramal and head their way. The captain thought they were going to attack and made a run for it, but the boat came close enough to hail them. Renegade Crafters on board said they needed medicine and doctors. They promised a fortune in gold if the captain could get them help within a month. The captain agreed and came back with a couple doctors and all the medicine he could buy. This is what he saw.”
Gladys placed the book against the surface of the mirror again. The drawing lacked detail, but what they saw was bad enough. Will and the others leaned in close to the picture of a towering, man-shaped thing standing where the city had been. It had a sloping head, no neck, broad flat shoulders, short legs and long arms that ended in huge armored fists. There were strange features to the giant, towers and gates that looked like they had come straight off the city. It took Will a second to realize this titanic creation was the city, folded up and twisted around until it resembled a man.
“Sarcamusaad roared that its makers had been murdered, and he fired lightning and fire into the sky,” Gladys told them. “Then he waded into the ocean toward the ship. The captain got away, but he thought that was because Sarcamusaad wasn’t going after him. He went home and never returned to Muramal. Years later a few idiots decided to explore the island and found thousands of graves with no markers. They swore it looked like giant fingers had dug the graves from volcanic rock.”
Will stared at the drawing. “And that’s coming our way.”
“Yes,” Percy replied. “I believe Sarcamusaad blames the Crafters for this crime. He has to travel through many kingdoms to reach his goal, and I fear for the people living there. Worse, the Crafters are no more, scattered to the wind like dandelion seeds. What happens when he finds no one to vent his rage on? I have come up with many possible outcomes, none of them pleasant.”
“And we’re supposed to stop that?” Domo sputtered.
Will kept staring at the picture. “Percy, this is out of our league. We’ve fought armies before, under protest, and we’ve taken down some big game in the last year or so, but this thing looks like it could grind us into paste without noticing. How could we fight a threat that big?”
Percy fidgeted. “That would be difficult bordering on impossible, but I believe we can stop Sarcamusaad without violence.”
“That ruins my day,” Brooklyn said.
“It’s true Sarcamusaad is a terrible danger,” Percy continued, “but in his own way he’s also a victim. He didn’t choose to be an engine of war. Others made that decision for him.”
Will rubbed his chin. “He’s got a right to be angry. I mean, the people who built him were kind of like his family, and they were taken from him. If I were in his place I’d be mad enough to bite through a crowbar.”
Percy nodded. “A valid point. Sarcamusaad is dangerous and we may have no choice but to fight him, but my greatest hope is that we can save him. Decades ago the purple puppet people successfully broke free from the Crafters’ rule. I would like for Sarcamusaad to do the same, help him become an independent person with goals and dreams beyond war or servitude.”
Domo waved his walking stick. “I’m sorry, but there was a little episode not too far back where he tried to kill us, and you in particular. Did you somehow miss that?”
“Yeah, he seemed kind of grumpy,” Mr. Niff added.
Percy fidgeted some more. “That is an issue. If Sarcamusaad is still intent on destroying the Crafters then he likely thinks the puppet people serve them, myself included. That’s where you have the best chance to help! Sarcamusaad has no quarrel with goblins and might listen to you.”
“That’s a stretch,” Will said. “On a good day people ignore us. On a bad day they try to kill us. We have lots of bad days. Why would a giant walking city care what we have to say?”
Percy looked down. “I realize how much I’m asking. Sarcamusaad is an incredible threat to anyone in his path, and trying to talk to him could be as dangerous as fighting him. But doing nothing can only have bad results.”
“Especially for us,” Gladys said.
“What do you mean?” Will asked.
Gladys opened another book and pressed it against the mirror’s surface. “This is a map of Other Place. The island shaped like a kidney at the bottom of the map is Muramal. The old homeland of the Crafters is north of here between the Raushtad Mountains and Elf’s Pride Lake. The wastelands of our kingdom used to be in the Crafter’s kingdom. Draw a straight line from Muramal to Crafter lands and what do you see?”
Will ran his finger across the mirror, following the points on the map. “Oh come on!”
The others huddled around Will. Mr. Niff asked, “What is it?”
“Us,” Will said. “If Sarcamusaad follows a straight line to his enemies then he’s going to march right through the Kingdom of the Goblins to get there. He might even hit the Goblin City, or what’s left of it.”
Alarmed, Mr. Niff declared, “There’d be ruin, untold devastation…oh, wait, too late.”
“He’ll go through a lot of other kingdoms first,” Domo pointed out. “Any chance one of them can stop him?”
Will shrugged. “It’s doubtful. Even if one of them destroys Sarcamusaad, he’ll still do lots of damage and kill people, and him dying isn’t necessarily a good thing. Someone that strong could do a lot of good if we calm him down.”
“How do we stop him, or slow him down enough to talk to us?” Domo demanded. “The guy is as big as a mountain! A small mountain, maybe, but that’s still really big. He’ll step on us and keep walking.”
Will tapped his scepter on his palm. “If Sarcamusaad is as dangerous as the books say then we’re going to need serious firepower. Vial, I want you to build one of your big bombs, the sooner the better.”
Vial clapped his hands together. “Rapturous joy!”
“Hugh, could you help him make the bomb casing?” Will asked.
Hugh nodded. “It is a fair request.”
Will addressed the others. “Domo, Niff, round up some goblins. I need them to go through the goblin gate and ask the trolls for help. I hate dragging them into this, but they’re one of the few people on speaking terms with us.”
“Can do, boss,” Mr. Niff said.
“We’ll also need to ask around the neighboring human kingdoms,” Will continued. “They don’t like us, so we might not do any better at finding help than Percy did, but there’s a chance. After all, they can’t want Sarcamusaad marching through their kingdoms, and the best chance to stop him is by working together.”
“That could be a problem,” Domo said. “We know Sarcamusaad is coming because Percy told us and one of his scouts tried to kill us. The neighbors don’t know he’s coming, and they’re not going to take our word for it.”
Vial added “Especially not after we spread rumors that tar is a cure for baldness.”
“Yeah, we got in a lot of trouble for that one,” Mr. Niff agreed. “Kind of strange how many men believed us.”
Surprised, Will asked, “When did this happen?”
“Last week,” Mr. Niff replied. “I was meaning to tell you about it, but, well, mistakes were made.”
Will shook his head. “Impossible. Okay, dealing with this is going to be as much fun as dental work without anesthetic, but it’s not going away on its own. I’d like to stop Sarcamusaad as far away from here as possible. Where is he going to come ashore?”
Percy pointed to a spot on the map far south of the Kingdom of the Goblins. “My people have teams along the coast where Sarcamusaad is most likely to reach land. They sensed him the strongest here. Expect him to reach land within five miles of this location.”
“Then that’s where we’re going,” Will said. “Once we’re there we try to talk to him and calm him down. If that doesn’t work—”
“If?” Domo asked.
Mr. Niff twiddled his thumbs. “We haven’t done so good at talking our way out of problems.”
“I know, but we’re going to try talking to him,” Will said.
“We owe Sarcamusaad a chance to settle down before we attack. Assuming that doesn’t work, Vial and Hugh are making a bomb to stop him. I’m not sure it can kill him, but at least it should hurt him enough that we’ll have an easier time stopping him afterwards.”
“We’re not taking Vial on our trip?” Domo asked.
“I need him here working on the bomb,” Will explained. “And no slight to Vial, but do you think his regular bombs would even scratch Sarcamusaad?”
“Can’t argue with that,” Domo admitted. “How do we get there?”
“That’s not a problem,” Will said. “I can trade places with goblin scarecrows, and there doesn’t seem to be a limit on the range. Plus I can take a lot of people with me. Getting there should be quick and easy.”
“Should be easy, but it’s not,” Gladys said. “Will, I just checked for goblin scarecrows near the site, and there aren’t any. There’s a gap of at least a hundred miles between the closest scarecrow and where Sarcamusaad is going to hit land.”
“Just great,” Will griped. He thought hard before looking at Percy. “Wait a minute. You said your people were on the lookout for Sarcamusaad. How did they get word to you from so far away?”
“They used a goblin gate,” Percy explained. “There is a gate located twenty miles from shore. When they sensed Sarcamusaad approaching, they sent four messengers through the gate along with goblins to power it. It took a few days, but one of them reached my people.”
Will snapped his fingers. “Then we can get there in time with the goblin gates. We’ll grab food and whatever else we need and leave right away. Niff, show Percy to an empty room where he can rest and drop off his things until we leave.”
“Gotcha, boss,” Mr. Niff replied. He took Percy by the hand and left the throne room, saying, “I know a place you can stay that wasn’t trapped this morning. Keep an eye out all the same.”
Will’s friends separated to collect food and supplies for the journey, with London carrying Gladys out on his back. Will sank down onto the empty crate he used for a throne. It took him a moment to notice Domo hadn’t left.
“Is there a target on my back?” Will asked.
Domo peered at Will’s back. “Not today. Why?”
“Because it’s starting to feel like the world’s got it in for me.” Will threw up his hands and cried out, “Why does this stuff keep happening to me? I’m a nice guy. I’ve never done anything to deserve this. But I’ve been hit by one thing after another ever since I came to this world. Idiot kings, insane super weapons, immortal lunatics, a sociopath billionaire, it just doesn’t stop!”
Domo tapped his walking stick on the floor. “It’s not just you, you know.”
“I’m sorry, that must have sounded really selfish. You and the rest of the guys are getting caught by this craziness, too.”
“True, but that’s not what I meant,” Domo said. “I have done a few things to earn this kind of bad luck, but there are lots of people hurting besides us. Our old friend and enemy King Kervol just survived an assassination attempt.”
Will sat up straight as a ramrod. “He what? Who did it?”
Domo shrugged. “Nobody knows. It looked like a professional hit with two killers using poisoned daggers. Thing is, Kervol drew his sword in time.”
“Yeah, Kervol is an idiot, but he’s a good swordsman,”
Will admitted. “Did the killers say anything?”
“Not after Kervol was done with them. Nobody knows who hired them or why they wanted him dead. A rival king could have sent them. Kervol is also worried that someone inside his kingdom did it so they could take his throne. His wife is the odds on favorite. Either way, he’s got to be worried there could be more killers coming. He’s trying to keep it quiet while he figures out who’s responsible, but that could take a while since his IQ and shoe size are the same number.”
“I didn’t hear about this,” Will said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were already dealing with a goblin civil war,” Domo replied. “Besides, how could you help? You can’t investigate Kervol’s enemies. He has too many. You can’t interrogate Kervol’s people to see if they’re responsible. That would make him look weak. He’d never allow it.”
Will nodded. “Fair point.”
“Then there’s King Ethan,” Domo began.
It took Will a moment to remember who Domo was referring to. “Wait, isn’t he Prince Alexander’s sick father? I thought he’d be okay after we gave the prince water from the Bottle of Hope to heal him.”
“That’s him. It turns out not everyone was happy to see him recover. A couple noblemen even tried to make sure the prince never reached him. But the prince made it and King Ethan survived, only to learn a lot of his followers wanted him dead. He got rid of a few traitors before the rest holed up in their castles and declared themselves independent kingdoms. He’s taking them down one at a time with forces loyal to him, but it’s going to be a while before his kingdom is at peace, and a lot longer than that to fix the damage.”
“Why don’t you tell me these things?” Will asked. “I could have…ah nuts.” Will slumped back down on the crate. “I can’t help him. My king contract only lets me leave here if the kingdom or my life is in danger. I can’t leave when someone else’s life is on the line. And if I sent goblins to help without being there to keep them on task, I can’t imagine how many ways that could go wrong.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” Domo said. “The resident goblins are helping Kervol and Ethan when they can, for whatever that’s worth. It’s kind of funny when you think about it. Even with the power of a king, there’s a lot you can’t do.”
Domo walked up to Will and said, “Look on the bright side. You saved tens of thousands of lives in the last year or so, maybe hundreds of thousands. There aren’t many people who can say that, and it’s way more than anyone expected from you. And yes, there are big problems out there and good people getting hurt, but you’re not alone. The Fairy Godmothers, the Guild of Heroes, the Brotherhood of the Righteous, they handle a lot of problems you can’t be there for.”
“I’m guessing they can’t handle a homicidal city,” Will said.
“That’s a bit beyond them.”
Will went to his bedroom while the others prepared for the journey. The room was filled with furniture donated by Prince Alexander and King Ethan after he’d helped them last year. The gifts were of the highest quality, masterfully carved and stained wood in excellent condition. There wasn’t much here he needed, but there was one thing he had to take.
Will lifted his mattress and removed three letters he’d hidden there. The paper had a strong scent of roses when he’d first received them, but the perfume had faded with time, or perhaps gave up to despair amid the constant stink of the Goblin City. He held the letters for a moment, tempted to read them again.
These three letters were his only contact with Lydia. She’d written them months ago to thank him for his help and tell him how well things were going. Will had donated Quentin Peck’s vast wealth to the Fairy Godmothers to help them rescue children in distress. According to her letters the money was already working wonders and had saved hundreds of youngsters in terrible circumstances.
But communicating by letters was a one-way path. Each letter was sent from a different kingdom as Lydia moved about on her duties. He’d written letters and sent them to all three locations, but there was no sign any had reached her. Maybe she’d moved on before they’d arrived. Maybe the goblins he’d entrusted to deliver the letters had lost or eaten them.
That last possibility was why he was here. Goblins could eat almost anything, and they considered paper a good source of fiber. Worse, they thought nothing of coming into his room and rummaging around. While Will was fairly certain none of them would make a meal of Lydia’s letters, he wasn’t going to take the chance.
“Hey, boss!” It was Mr. Niff, running down the hall to Will’s room. Will quickly slipped the letters into his shirt pocket before he put on his black vest to cover them. Mr. Niff scurried into the room and announced, “Percy says the sooner we leave the better.”
“I’ll be ready once I pack some food and refill the gourd,” Will said. He paused for a moment and studied the furniture again. He rapped his knuckles on the bed post and said, “You know, now that I think about it, it’s strange I haven’t picked up goblin graffiti in here. You guys scrawl nonsense on everything else, and the wood isn’t that hard.”
Appalled, Mr. Niff said, “We wouldn’t damage that!”
“That’s good to hear, but I’m curious why.”
“It’s a gift,” Mr. Niff explained. “If you’d bought this stuff or made it yourself, then yeah, sure, we’d write on it, chew on it, set it on fire or launch it out of a catapult at passing insurance salesmen. But these are gifts. Gifts are special. If you get a gift that means someone cares about you, and that doesn’t happen a lot.”
Will couldn’t fault Mr. Niff’s reasoning, and he made more sense than most of the things goblins said or did.
“Let’s finish packing.”
Will loaded up two bags of fresh vegetables, which was the only food he had on hand. He could always get more supplies if he came across an inn or restaurant, but this would hold him for a while if he ended up in the wilderness. He refilled the gourd at a stream far enough outside the Goblin City that it should be drinkable.
The others joined him with all the supplies they could carry. London came with more gourds and packages of dried food while Brooklyn carried Gladys on his back. Domo and Mr. Niff brought nothing of importance, confident they could eat whatever garbage they’d come across. Percy came last with his bulging packs, while Vial and Hugh Timbers arrived to see them off.
“We shall begin work on the bomb after you leave,” Vial assured them.
“Thanks, Vial,” Will said. “Hopefully we won’t need it.”
“We always need pointlessly large explosives,” Vial countered. “If by some chance we don’t use it on Sarcamusaad, we can use it to keep the neighbors on their toes. I find the occasional random detonation does wonders to keep rival kings respectful.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “My preference is for using meaningful dialogue to deal with misunderstandings, but your way has merit.”
Will led the group to the goblin gate. Fighting had ceased once news got out that there was a threat to deal with, and goblins abandoned their trenches, forts and tank traps. Will wondered what those were for, seeing as Other Place had no tanks or monsters similar to one. He was about to ask when he saw two goblins arguing on the topic.
A green skinned goblin pointed to a tank trap and said, “Why do we even make these things? You can just walk around them!”
A goblin with ram horns waved an old US army field guide in the other goblin’s face. “It’s in the book, right after the part about not fragging your officers!”
They soon reached a small cave containing the goblin gate, a circle of bricks each carved with a different symbol connecting the gate to twenty more gates. Each of those gates was connected to twenty more, and those to another twenty, forming a network that stretched across the planet. It was possible to go nearly anywhere on Other Place in seconds and was a near perfect method of travel, save for the minor problem that there was no way to control which gate you ended up at. Using the gate was a gamble, made worse by the fact that not all destinations were safe.
A mob of goblins were already gathered around the gate and going in one at a time. Each goblin disappeared with a whoosh when they set foot inside the gate, to be followed by the next goblin.
“The guys are sending word to King Gate of the trolls about what’s happening, just like you asked,” Domo explained. “One of them should reach the trolls sooner or later.”
The remaining goblins shouted their message together, saying, “King Will says we’re screwed!”
“You need to tell him why!” Will shouted back.
A small goblin looked puzzled. “This time or overall?”
Will grumbled before turning to Vial. “Tell the other goblins to spread the word to surrounding kingdoms. Have them bring pieces of that bronze monster with them as proof.”
“Neighboring kings never trusted us before, with good reason,” Vial told Will.
“I know, but we have to try. And tell the guys to get ready for a fight. I may have to send for them if things go wrong, and I’ll need them to come as soon as they can with all the weapons they’ve got.”
The last goblin messenger went through the gate, leaving Will and his friends to go next. Will took a deep breath and said, “Gentlemen, this is going to be hard to the point of being impossible.”
“Since when has that stopped us?” Domo asked.
“I know, we’re kind of stupid that way,” Will admitted. “We’ve got help from Percy and the purple puppet people, and I think we can scare up support once more people learn that Sarcamusaad is coming. Just as important, for once we’re forewarned. We know he’s on his way and we have some idea what to expect.”
Percy interrupted Will to ask, “Is this a morale building speech?”
“Um, sort of.”
“Fascinating! Does it work?”
Will scratched his head. “It seems to.”
Just then they heard talking in the distance. Will walked away from the group and saw the cause of the commotion. It was True Eyes, battered and bruised, his fancy clothes torn, but still standing after the battle with his elf rival. Goblins surrounded the elf, and he was too busy dealing with them to notice Will. That was good. Will didn’t need distractions when there was already so much on his plate.
“It’s imperative I speak with King Bradshaw!” True Eyes told the goblins. “I’m an ambassador on an important matter of state.”
A pudgy goblin snorted derisively. “An ambassador, dressed like that?”
True Eyes looked nervous. “There were problems getting here.”
“Yeah, right,” a furry goblin said. “Let’s see some ID.”
Percy walked up to Will and watched the exchange. “Shouldn’t you intervene?”
“Normally yes, but I’m trying to avoid this guy.” Will led his followers back to the goblin gate. “Everyone go through together so we don’t leave someone behind.”
They saw a small goblin armed with a rolling pin ask True Eyes, “Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, no,” the elf conceded.
The goblin tapped the rolling pin on his hand. “Then we have a problem.”
“I didn’t have an appointment, either,” Percy said as they stepped onto the gate. The air around them grew dark and musty, and they disappeared with a whoosh.
________________________________
If you are enjoying William Bradshaw and Urban Problems, the full book is available on Amazon in both ebook and paperback formats.
Will and his friends studied the remains of the bronze monster that had tried to kill them. The troll brothers and Hugh Timbers pulled it apart to reveal bewildering mechanical and magical bits inside its bronze shell. Will sorted through the wreckage and picked up a clear, slender crystal with a crack running through it.
“Is any of this dangerous?” Will asked Percy. “We can throw it down a bottomless pit if it’s poisonous or going to explode.”
“It’s harmless now,” Percy said sadly. He picked up a hollow sphere from the wreckage and tossed it aside. “That battle was a bad sign. Sarcamusaad didn’t even try to communicate with us. I wonder if his time alone in the ocean drove him mad.”
“It doesn’t sound like he was too stable to begin with,” Domo replied as he dug through the metal remains.
Will glanced at Percy. “What I want to know is how Sarcamusaad found you. You’re a long way from your people, and the Kingdom of the Goblins didn’t exist when Sarcamusaad went underwater. How’d he know
you were here?”
“Sarcamusaad is a puppet person, as I am,” Percy replied. “While he is much larger and vastly more powerful, he has many of the same abilities. One of those is the ability to sense magic, especially other puppet people.”
“How does that work?” Will asked.
“It’s difficult to describe to someone who can’t do it,”
Percy said. “It’s a scent we get when we’re close to magic, or a feeling. The stronger the magic the more it tastes, if that’s the right word. I can feel your magic scepter from thirty paces away, and a more powerful item from sixty or seventy paces. I can sense other puppet people at ten times that distance.”
Will twirled his scepter. “So you figure the scout was getting the lay of the land and just happened to be close enough to sniff you out.”
“I believe so,” Percy replied. “We shouldn’t linger by the remains. Sarcamusaad may send more scouts to see what happened.”
“Can he fix this one?” Will asked.
Percy looked at the wreckage. “I don’t know.”
Will led his friends back to the ruins of the Goblin City, stopping only long enough to take the table and chairs before going into the tunnels below. Along the way they attracted a fair number of goblins that had heard of the attack and decided it was more important than their civil war. Will took the growing crowd to the throne room to plan their next move.
The room’s name was misleading. While Will now had a bedroom overflowing with furniture thanks to a king he’d once helped, the king hadn’t sent a throne. The only furniture here consisted of a few old crates and an empty barrel. But the room was large enough to accommodate everyone, and seeing as he was dealing with a fellow leader it was probably the best place to use.
“London, if you could bring Gladys?” Will asked.
“No sweat,” London said. He nudged his brother and told him, “Keep him out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“How could I get in trouble in my throne room?” Will protested.
London left the room, saying, “You always get in trouble. That’s why it’s fun working for you.”
“Never a dull moment around here, just the way we like it,” Brooklyn agreed cheerfully.
Mr. Niff smiled. “You’ve come close to getting your ticket punched so often that the guys started a betting pool on who might try to kill you next. My money is on ‘attacked by enraged woodchucks’, but there are good odds on ‘chased off cliff by moose’ and ‘sat on by yeti’.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking bets on how I’ll die?”
“Almost die,” Mr. Niff corrected him.
Will shook his head. “Okay, getting back on topic. I’m a little short on details here. I get that this is bad, but not how bad. And I’m trying really hard not to sound like a jerk, but exactly why is this our problem and not someone else’s?”
“Technically Sarcamusaad is everyone’s problem,” Percy replied. “Sarcamusaad has been called one of the fifty most powerful magic items in existence, which is a tad insulting as he is an intelligent being, not an item. He is among the most dangerous beings alive. No known person or beast could fight him and hope to win. The largest of armies would face ruinous losses against him, and their victory would be far from assured. Even his mere passing through a nation would be devastating.”
London came back with Gladys and set her down in front of Will. Gladys was a magic mirror, six feet tall with a bronze frame covered in eagle motifs and standing on two bronze eagle feet. The mirror’s surface showed Gladys as an overweight middle-aged woman with blond hair. She wore too much makeup and a garish pink and yellow dress.
“Just the person I wanted to talk to,” Will said.
“So, we’re screwed,” Gladys said.
“Inelegant, but correct,” Percy replied.
Gladys pouted. “I saw the fight through a scarecrow. If it takes that much to bring down a little one, I don’t want to know what it takes to stop the big one.”
Will pulled up a crate and sat down in front of Gladys. “I need whatever you have on Sarcamusaad.”
Gladys frowned as a bookcase appeared behind her inside the mirror. Taking a book out, she said, “There’s not much I can tell you. Sarcamusaad was built long ago by a group of humans called the Crafters. The Crafters lived in a small kingdom north of here that included parts of our kingdom. They stole dwarf magic secrets on building golems, but that wasn’t as useful as they’d hoped. Golems need constant supervision, break down a lot and are expensive. Crafters spent years researching better forms of golems until they made the purple puppet people.”
“We are indebted to them,” Percy said solemnly.
Gladys stared at Percy in disbelief. “They made you for slave labor.”
“I said we are indebted to them. I didn’t say we liked them.”
“I wouldn’t, either,” she said. “Crafters built thousands of purple puppet people to be their workers and soldiers. Puppet people built the cities, grew the food and protected them from their enemies. The bums didn’t do anything for themselves. You’d think that would be enough, but it wasn’t. Some of the Crafters decided to stage a coup and take over the kingdom. They lost and were driven out, swearing eternal vengeance.”
“I’m suddenly happy I never met these people,” Will said.
“Oh yeah, they were scum,” Gladys replied. “Roughly half the Crafters fled the kingdom and headed south with the other half hot on their heels. The renegade Crafters stole boats and escaped by sea. They settled on the island of Muramal, a tropical paradise where they should have lived happily ever after if they weren’t such jerks.”
Gladys pressed a book up against the mirror’s surface. The pages showed people building a large city by the sea. There were huge buildings, tall towers, imposing walls, and what looked suspiciously like cannons.
“Cannons?” Will asked. “These guys had cannons?”
“Magic cannons,” Percy replied. “They use four magic wands or scepters bundled together inside each barrel. The wands fire as one, meaning the cannons are capable of inflicting tremendous damage at incredible range. The design went out of production long ago because they were expensive and hard to make. If the cannons weren’t built exactly right they exploded when first used.”
Vial perked up and scurried over to Percy. “Really? How would one go about making one of these wonders?”
“Don’t answer that,” Will told Percy. “Go on, Gladys.”
“The renegade Crafters made Sarcamusaad to get their revenge,” Gladys continued. “Instead of making an army of man-sized puppets they made one as big as a city. The project took years and the renegade Crafters shot at anyone who came close to their island. One of the few ship captains who survived their attacks made these drawings.”
“Percy said the men who made Sarcamusaad all died,” Will said. “With guns like that, who could kill them?”
Gladys pulled her book back and turned a page. “Nobody knows. Ships steered clear of Muramal for years after the first few were fired on. One day a merchant ship saw a small boat leave Muramal and head their way. The captain thought they were going to attack and made a run for it, but the boat came close enough to hail them. Renegade Crafters on board said they needed medicine and doctors. They promised a fortune in gold if the captain could get them help within a month. The captain agreed and came back with a couple doctors and all the medicine he could buy. This is what he saw.”
Gladys placed the book against the surface of the mirror again. The drawing lacked detail, but what they saw was bad enough. Will and the others leaned in close to the picture of a towering, man-shaped thing standing where the city had been. It had a sloping head, no neck, broad flat shoulders, short legs and long arms that ended in huge armored fists. There were strange features to the giant, towers and gates that looked like they had come straight off the city. It took Will a second to realize this titanic creation was the city, folded up and twisted around until it resembled a man.
“Sarcamusaad roared that its makers had been murdered, and he fired lightning and fire into the sky,” Gladys told them. “Then he waded into the ocean toward the ship. The captain got away, but he thought that was because Sarcamusaad wasn’t going after him. He went home and never returned to Muramal. Years later a few idiots decided to explore the island and found thousands of graves with no markers. They swore it looked like giant fingers had dug the graves from volcanic rock.”
Will stared at the drawing. “And that’s coming our way.”
“Yes,” Percy replied. “I believe Sarcamusaad blames the Crafters for this crime. He has to travel through many kingdoms to reach his goal, and I fear for the people living there. Worse, the Crafters are no more, scattered to the wind like dandelion seeds. What happens when he finds no one to vent his rage on? I have come up with many possible outcomes, none of them pleasant.”
“And we’re supposed to stop that?” Domo sputtered.
Will kept staring at the picture. “Percy, this is out of our league. We’ve fought armies before, under protest, and we’ve taken down some big game in the last year or so, but this thing looks like it could grind us into paste without noticing. How could we fight a threat that big?”
Percy fidgeted. “That would be difficult bordering on impossible, but I believe we can stop Sarcamusaad without violence.”
“That ruins my day,” Brooklyn said.
“It’s true Sarcamusaad is a terrible danger,” Percy continued, “but in his own way he’s also a victim. He didn’t choose to be an engine of war. Others made that decision for him.”
Will rubbed his chin. “He’s got a right to be angry. I mean, the people who built him were kind of like his family, and they were taken from him. If I were in his place I’d be mad enough to bite through a crowbar.”
Percy nodded. “A valid point. Sarcamusaad is dangerous and we may have no choice but to fight him, but my greatest hope is that we can save him. Decades ago the purple puppet people successfully broke free from the Crafters’ rule. I would like for Sarcamusaad to do the same, help him become an independent person with goals and dreams beyond war or servitude.”
Domo waved his walking stick. “I’m sorry, but there was a little episode not too far back where he tried to kill us, and you in particular. Did you somehow miss that?”
“Yeah, he seemed kind of grumpy,” Mr. Niff added.
Percy fidgeted some more. “That is an issue. If Sarcamusaad is still intent on destroying the Crafters then he likely thinks the puppet people serve them, myself included. That’s where you have the best chance to help! Sarcamusaad has no quarrel with goblins and might listen to you.”
“That’s a stretch,” Will said. “On a good day people ignore us. On a bad day they try to kill us. We have lots of bad days. Why would a giant walking city care what we have to say?”
Percy looked down. “I realize how much I’m asking. Sarcamusaad is an incredible threat to anyone in his path, and trying to talk to him could be as dangerous as fighting him. But doing nothing can only have bad results.”
“Especially for us,” Gladys said.
“What do you mean?” Will asked.
Gladys opened another book and pressed it against the mirror’s surface. “This is a map of Other Place. The island shaped like a kidney at the bottom of the map is Muramal. The old homeland of the Crafters is north of here between the Raushtad Mountains and Elf’s Pride Lake. The wastelands of our kingdom used to be in the Crafter’s kingdom. Draw a straight line from Muramal to Crafter lands and what do you see?”
Will ran his finger across the mirror, following the points on the map. “Oh come on!”
The others huddled around Will. Mr. Niff asked, “What is it?”
“Us,” Will said. “If Sarcamusaad follows a straight line to his enemies then he’s going to march right through the Kingdom of the Goblins to get there. He might even hit the Goblin City, or what’s left of it.”
Alarmed, Mr. Niff declared, “There’d be ruin, untold devastation…oh, wait, too late.”
“He’ll go through a lot of other kingdoms first,” Domo pointed out. “Any chance one of them can stop him?”
Will shrugged. “It’s doubtful. Even if one of them destroys Sarcamusaad, he’ll still do lots of damage and kill people, and him dying isn’t necessarily a good thing. Someone that strong could do a lot of good if we calm him down.”
“How do we stop him, or slow him down enough to talk to us?” Domo demanded. “The guy is as big as a mountain! A small mountain, maybe, but that’s still really big. He’ll step on us and keep walking.”
Will tapped his scepter on his palm. “If Sarcamusaad is as dangerous as the books say then we’re going to need serious firepower. Vial, I want you to build one of your big bombs, the sooner the better.”
Vial clapped his hands together. “Rapturous joy!”
“Hugh, could you help him make the bomb casing?” Will asked.
Hugh nodded. “It is a fair request.”
Will addressed the others. “Domo, Niff, round up some goblins. I need them to go through the goblin gate and ask the trolls for help. I hate dragging them into this, but they’re one of the few people on speaking terms with us.”
“Can do, boss,” Mr. Niff said.
“We’ll also need to ask around the neighboring human kingdoms,” Will continued. “They don’t like us, so we might not do any better at finding help than Percy did, but there’s a chance. After all, they can’t want Sarcamusaad marching through their kingdoms, and the best chance to stop him is by working together.”
“That could be a problem,” Domo said. “We know Sarcamusaad is coming because Percy told us and one of his scouts tried to kill us. The neighbors don’t know he’s coming, and they’re not going to take our word for it.”
Vial added “Especially not after we spread rumors that tar is a cure for baldness.”
“Yeah, we got in a lot of trouble for that one,” Mr. Niff agreed. “Kind of strange how many men believed us.”
Surprised, Will asked, “When did this happen?”
“Last week,” Mr. Niff replied. “I was meaning to tell you about it, but, well, mistakes were made.”
Will shook his head. “Impossible. Okay, dealing with this is going to be as much fun as dental work without anesthetic, but it’s not going away on its own. I’d like to stop Sarcamusaad as far away from here as possible. Where is he going to come ashore?”
Percy pointed to a spot on the map far south of the Kingdom of the Goblins. “My people have teams along the coast where Sarcamusaad is most likely to reach land. They sensed him the strongest here. Expect him to reach land within five miles of this location.”
“Then that’s where we’re going,” Will said. “Once we’re there we try to talk to him and calm him down. If that doesn’t work—”
“If?” Domo asked.
Mr. Niff twiddled his thumbs. “We haven’t done so good at talking our way out of problems.”
“I know, but we’re going to try talking to him,” Will said.
“We owe Sarcamusaad a chance to settle down before we attack. Assuming that doesn’t work, Vial and Hugh are making a bomb to stop him. I’m not sure it can kill him, but at least it should hurt him enough that we’ll have an easier time stopping him afterwards.”
“We’re not taking Vial on our trip?” Domo asked.
“I need him here working on the bomb,” Will explained. “And no slight to Vial, but do you think his regular bombs would even scratch Sarcamusaad?”
“Can’t argue with that,” Domo admitted. “How do we get there?”
“That’s not a problem,” Will said. “I can trade places with goblin scarecrows, and there doesn’t seem to be a limit on the range. Plus I can take a lot of people with me. Getting there should be quick and easy.”
“Should be easy, but it’s not,” Gladys said. “Will, I just checked for goblin scarecrows near the site, and there aren’t any. There’s a gap of at least a hundred miles between the closest scarecrow and where Sarcamusaad is going to hit land.”
“Just great,” Will griped. He thought hard before looking at Percy. “Wait a minute. You said your people were on the lookout for Sarcamusaad. How did they get word to you from so far away?”
“They used a goblin gate,” Percy explained. “There is a gate located twenty miles from shore. When they sensed Sarcamusaad approaching, they sent four messengers through the gate along with goblins to power it. It took a few days, but one of them reached my people.”
Will snapped his fingers. “Then we can get there in time with the goblin gates. We’ll grab food and whatever else we need and leave right away. Niff, show Percy to an empty room where he can rest and drop off his things until we leave.”
“Gotcha, boss,” Mr. Niff replied. He took Percy by the hand and left the throne room, saying, “I know a place you can stay that wasn’t trapped this morning. Keep an eye out all the same.”
Will’s friends separated to collect food and supplies for the journey, with London carrying Gladys out on his back. Will sank down onto the empty crate he used for a throne. It took him a moment to notice Domo hadn’t left.
“Is there a target on my back?” Will asked.
Domo peered at Will’s back. “Not today. Why?”
“Because it’s starting to feel like the world’s got it in for me.” Will threw up his hands and cried out, “Why does this stuff keep happening to me? I’m a nice guy. I’ve never done anything to deserve this. But I’ve been hit by one thing after another ever since I came to this world. Idiot kings, insane super weapons, immortal lunatics, a sociopath billionaire, it just doesn’t stop!”
Domo tapped his walking stick on the floor. “It’s not just you, you know.”
“I’m sorry, that must have sounded really selfish. You and the rest of the guys are getting caught by this craziness, too.”
“True, but that’s not what I meant,” Domo said. “I have done a few things to earn this kind of bad luck, but there are lots of people hurting besides us. Our old friend and enemy King Kervol just survived an assassination attempt.”
Will sat up straight as a ramrod. “He what? Who did it?”
Domo shrugged. “Nobody knows. It looked like a professional hit with two killers using poisoned daggers. Thing is, Kervol drew his sword in time.”
“Yeah, Kervol is an idiot, but he’s a good swordsman,”
Will admitted. “Did the killers say anything?”
“Not after Kervol was done with them. Nobody knows who hired them or why they wanted him dead. A rival king could have sent them. Kervol is also worried that someone inside his kingdom did it so they could take his throne. His wife is the odds on favorite. Either way, he’s got to be worried there could be more killers coming. He’s trying to keep it quiet while he figures out who’s responsible, but that could take a while since his IQ and shoe size are the same number.”
“I didn’t hear about this,” Will said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were already dealing with a goblin civil war,” Domo replied. “Besides, how could you help? You can’t investigate Kervol’s enemies. He has too many. You can’t interrogate Kervol’s people to see if they’re responsible. That would make him look weak. He’d never allow it.”
Will nodded. “Fair point.”
“Then there’s King Ethan,” Domo began.
It took Will a moment to remember who Domo was referring to. “Wait, isn’t he Prince Alexander’s sick father? I thought he’d be okay after we gave the prince water from the Bottle of Hope to heal him.”
“That’s him. It turns out not everyone was happy to see him recover. A couple noblemen even tried to make sure the prince never reached him. But the prince made it and King Ethan survived, only to learn a lot of his followers wanted him dead. He got rid of a few traitors before the rest holed up in their castles and declared themselves independent kingdoms. He’s taking them down one at a time with forces loyal to him, but it’s going to be a while before his kingdom is at peace, and a lot longer than that to fix the damage.”
“Why don’t you tell me these things?” Will asked. “I could have…ah nuts.” Will slumped back down on the crate. “I can’t help him. My king contract only lets me leave here if the kingdom or my life is in danger. I can’t leave when someone else’s life is on the line. And if I sent goblins to help without being there to keep them on task, I can’t imagine how many ways that could go wrong.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” Domo said. “The resident goblins are helping Kervol and Ethan when they can, for whatever that’s worth. It’s kind of funny when you think about it. Even with the power of a king, there’s a lot you can’t do.”
Domo walked up to Will and said, “Look on the bright side. You saved tens of thousands of lives in the last year or so, maybe hundreds of thousands. There aren’t many people who can say that, and it’s way more than anyone expected from you. And yes, there are big problems out there and good people getting hurt, but you’re not alone. The Fairy Godmothers, the Guild of Heroes, the Brotherhood of the Righteous, they handle a lot of problems you can’t be there for.”
“I’m guessing they can’t handle a homicidal city,” Will said.
“That’s a bit beyond them.”
Will went to his bedroom while the others prepared for the journey. The room was filled with furniture donated by Prince Alexander and King Ethan after he’d helped them last year. The gifts were of the highest quality, masterfully carved and stained wood in excellent condition. There wasn’t much here he needed, but there was one thing he had to take.
Will lifted his mattress and removed three letters he’d hidden there. The paper had a strong scent of roses when he’d first received them, but the perfume had faded with time, or perhaps gave up to despair amid the constant stink of the Goblin City. He held the letters for a moment, tempted to read them again.
These three letters were his only contact with Lydia. She’d written them months ago to thank him for his help and tell him how well things were going. Will had donated Quentin Peck’s vast wealth to the Fairy Godmothers to help them rescue children in distress. According to her letters the money was already working wonders and had saved hundreds of youngsters in terrible circumstances.
But communicating by letters was a one-way path. Each letter was sent from a different kingdom as Lydia moved about on her duties. He’d written letters and sent them to all three locations, but there was no sign any had reached her. Maybe she’d moved on before they’d arrived. Maybe the goblins he’d entrusted to deliver the letters had lost or eaten them.
That last possibility was why he was here. Goblins could eat almost anything, and they considered paper a good source of fiber. Worse, they thought nothing of coming into his room and rummaging around. While Will was fairly certain none of them would make a meal of Lydia’s letters, he wasn’t going to take the chance.
“Hey, boss!” It was Mr. Niff, running down the hall to Will’s room. Will quickly slipped the letters into his shirt pocket before he put on his black vest to cover them. Mr. Niff scurried into the room and announced, “Percy says the sooner we leave the better.”
“I’ll be ready once I pack some food and refill the gourd,” Will said. He paused for a moment and studied the furniture again. He rapped his knuckles on the bed post and said, “You know, now that I think about it, it’s strange I haven’t picked up goblin graffiti in here. You guys scrawl nonsense on everything else, and the wood isn’t that hard.”
Appalled, Mr. Niff said, “We wouldn’t damage that!”
“That’s good to hear, but I’m curious why.”
“It’s a gift,” Mr. Niff explained. “If you’d bought this stuff or made it yourself, then yeah, sure, we’d write on it, chew on it, set it on fire or launch it out of a catapult at passing insurance salesmen. But these are gifts. Gifts are special. If you get a gift that means someone cares about you, and that doesn’t happen a lot.”
Will couldn’t fault Mr. Niff’s reasoning, and he made more sense than most of the things goblins said or did.
“Let’s finish packing.”
Will loaded up two bags of fresh vegetables, which was the only food he had on hand. He could always get more supplies if he came across an inn or restaurant, but this would hold him for a while if he ended up in the wilderness. He refilled the gourd at a stream far enough outside the Goblin City that it should be drinkable.
The others joined him with all the supplies they could carry. London came with more gourds and packages of dried food while Brooklyn carried Gladys on his back. Domo and Mr. Niff brought nothing of importance, confident they could eat whatever garbage they’d come across. Percy came last with his bulging packs, while Vial and Hugh Timbers arrived to see them off.
“We shall begin work on the bomb after you leave,” Vial assured them.
“Thanks, Vial,” Will said. “Hopefully we won’t need it.”
“We always need pointlessly large explosives,” Vial countered. “If by some chance we don’t use it on Sarcamusaad, we can use it to keep the neighbors on their toes. I find the occasional random detonation does wonders to keep rival kings respectful.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “My preference is for using meaningful dialogue to deal with misunderstandings, but your way has merit.”
Will led the group to the goblin gate. Fighting had ceased once news got out that there was a threat to deal with, and goblins abandoned their trenches, forts and tank traps. Will wondered what those were for, seeing as Other Place had no tanks or monsters similar to one. He was about to ask when he saw two goblins arguing on the topic.
A green skinned goblin pointed to a tank trap and said, “Why do we even make these things? You can just walk around them!”
A goblin with ram horns waved an old US army field guide in the other goblin’s face. “It’s in the book, right after the part about not fragging your officers!”
They soon reached a small cave containing the goblin gate, a circle of bricks each carved with a different symbol connecting the gate to twenty more gates. Each of those gates was connected to twenty more, and those to another twenty, forming a network that stretched across the planet. It was possible to go nearly anywhere on Other Place in seconds and was a near perfect method of travel, save for the minor problem that there was no way to control which gate you ended up at. Using the gate was a gamble, made worse by the fact that not all destinations were safe.
A mob of goblins were already gathered around the gate and going in one at a time. Each goblin disappeared with a whoosh when they set foot inside the gate, to be followed by the next goblin.
“The guys are sending word to King Gate of the trolls about what’s happening, just like you asked,” Domo explained. “One of them should reach the trolls sooner or later.”
The remaining goblins shouted their message together, saying, “King Will says we’re screwed!”
“You need to tell him why!” Will shouted back.
A small goblin looked puzzled. “This time or overall?”
Will grumbled before turning to Vial. “Tell the other goblins to spread the word to surrounding kingdoms. Have them bring pieces of that bronze monster with them as proof.”
“Neighboring kings never trusted us before, with good reason,” Vial told Will.
“I know, but we have to try. And tell the guys to get ready for a fight. I may have to send for them if things go wrong, and I’ll need them to come as soon as they can with all the weapons they’ve got.”
The last goblin messenger went through the gate, leaving Will and his friends to go next. Will took a deep breath and said, “Gentlemen, this is going to be hard to the point of being impossible.”
“Since when has that stopped us?” Domo asked.
“I know, we’re kind of stupid that way,” Will admitted. “We’ve got help from Percy and the purple puppet people, and I think we can scare up support once more people learn that Sarcamusaad is coming. Just as important, for once we’re forewarned. We know he’s on his way and we have some idea what to expect.”
Percy interrupted Will to ask, “Is this a morale building speech?”
“Um, sort of.”
“Fascinating! Does it work?”
Will scratched his head. “It seems to.”
Just then they heard talking in the distance. Will walked away from the group and saw the cause of the commotion. It was True Eyes, battered and bruised, his fancy clothes torn, but still standing after the battle with his elf rival. Goblins surrounded the elf, and he was too busy dealing with them to notice Will. That was good. Will didn’t need distractions when there was already so much on his plate.
“It’s imperative I speak with King Bradshaw!” True Eyes told the goblins. “I’m an ambassador on an important matter of state.”
A pudgy goblin snorted derisively. “An ambassador, dressed like that?”
True Eyes looked nervous. “There were problems getting here.”
“Yeah, right,” a furry goblin said. “Let’s see some ID.”
Percy walked up to Will and watched the exchange. “Shouldn’t you intervene?”
“Normally yes, but I’m trying to avoid this guy.” Will led his followers back to the goblin gate. “Everyone go through together so we don’t leave someone behind.”
They saw a small goblin armed with a rolling pin ask True Eyes, “Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, no,” the elf conceded.
The goblin tapped the rolling pin on his hand. “Then we have a problem.”
“I didn’t have an appointment, either,” Percy said as they stepped onto the gate. The air around them grew dark and musty, and they disappeared with a whoosh.
________________________________
If you are enjoying William Bradshaw and Urban Problems, the full book is available on Amazon in both ebook and paperback formats.
June 6, 2019
William Bradshaw and Urban Problems part 2
Chapter 2
Far away, and blissfully unaware of the approaching terror, Will carried a chair out of a tunnel and into the ruins that used to be the Goblin City. The wood chair was beautifully carved and sturdy, a gift from a king he’d helped the previous year. Will set it down on a patch of relatively flat ground next to Vial and Domo.
“Table coming through!” London and Brooklyn the trolls exited the same tunnel with an ornate wood table. The trolls stood over six feet tall and had green scales, serious under-bites and ears that looked like fish fins, and they wore only cotton trousers. They also had incredible strength and endurance. London was a tad taller and a darker shade of green than his brother, but otherwise they were identical.
The trolls had wandered into the kingdom years ago and volunteered to act as enforcers for numerous men who’d been King of the Goblins. With personalities like rugby players or soccer hooligans, they’d raised unnecessary force to an art form. For all the brothers’ faults, they were loyal and wouldn’t back down no matter the odds, and had saved Will’s life on many occasions.
Following them was Hugh Timbers the dwarf and Milo the minotaur, both carrying chairs. Hugh stood a head shorter than Will, but was heavier and had broad shoulders, powerful muscles, thick brown hair and wore simple leather clothes. Hugh had lost his home and business to the Eternal Army last winter and had settled in Will’s kingdom. The dwarf was polite and helped when he could, but Will could tell that he was still hurting.
Milo was a thoroughly modern minotaur dressed in a black frock coat, white dress shirt, black pants, briefcase and glasses. His fine clothes and refined speech made him slightly less intimidating, but couldn’t change the fact he was seven feet tall, had short brown fur and a bull’s head with long horns. He’d come to the kingdom last year to develop the goblin’s maze into a moneymaking venture.
London and Brooklyn set down the table and the others pulled their chairs around it. Domo and Vial climbed onto the table and the rest sat down.
“Gentlemen,” Will began with a smile, “I’ve been thinking we should have regular meetings to keep everyone up to date on what’s going on in the kingdom.”
“You mean like who’s invading us this week?” Domo asked.
“Ideally no,” Will replied.
“We have been invaded a lot,” London said.
“Not that we’re complaining,” Brooklyn added. “You get lots of exercise roughing people up in an invasion.”
Will frowned and put a hand over his face. “I’d like to know how everyone is doing, and if there’s anything important I should know about.”
“Why are we doing this outside?” Domo asked.
Vial raised a hand and said, “The American cheese and Pepper Jack factions are fighting in the tunnels. I’m told the battle is quite fierce, with much doily related violence.”
“Out here we’re close to the maze, so the civil war won’t interfere with our meeting,” Will said. “We should have the place to ourselves for now. I’m opening the floor to anyone and all topics.”
Milo opened his briefcase and spread papers on the table. “Since you were kind enough to ask, I have a report on maze profitability and expansion plans.”
Will waved his hand. “Go on.”
“I’m afraid maze revenues have been disappointing,” Milo said. He handed out papers with pie charts and bar graphs, but Domo and Vial ate the pages. “After an exhaustive statistical analysis, I’ve determined that in the last three months we have had zero visitors, plus or minus ten.”
“How do you get minus ten visitors?” Domo asked Milo.
“They thought about coming but decided against it.” Milo handed out more papers, this time making sure they went nowhere near the goblins. “This has had an unfortunate effect on sales of maps, and deluxe maps detailing trap locations. I believe the problem is marketing. People know the maze is here, but they don’t see a reason to enter it.”
“I don’t go in if I can help it,” Will admitted.
“That is a common response from people I’ve chased down and interviewed,” Milo replied. “There are two traditional reasons for entering a maze, to test one’s mental abilities or because there is treasure worth having in the maze, a tangible reward for completion.”
Will held out his empty hands. “We’re broke, Milo. The kingdom has a net worth measured in negative numbers. People don’t want anything we have. If we gave it to them, or forced it on them, they’d have to pay to get rid of it.”
“I could donate an exploding outhouse,” Vial offered.
“Hey, Will, we could get rid of those turnips you grew,” Domo suggested.
“How about a coupon for a free beating?” London offered. “One coupon gets one of your enemies beaten up.”
Brooklyn perked up. “I like that one.”
Milo scribbled notes on his papers. “Those are all good suggestions.”
“No they’re not,” Will said.
Milo pointed at the second stack of papers he’d handed out. “At the moment our best bet to attract visitors is to represent the maze as a challenge. I’ve come up with a marketing plan that makes the best use of our limited resources. With your approval, I can begin spreading these publicly.”
Will looked at the papers. The first read ‘The Maze of the Goblins: There’s got to be something in there’. This was followed by ‘The Maze of the Goblins: A challenge that probably won’t result in cannibalism’. The last suggestion was ‘The Maze of the Goblins: Like you’ve got something better to do’. Will handed Milo back the papers and asked, “You think this is going to draw visitors?”
“Definitely,” Milo said. “Our target audience includes adventurers, treasure hunters and the bored rich. We need to appeal to their greed and vanity while making the maze seem more dangerous than it really is.”
“And once they’re here we take them for all they’re worth,” Domo said.
Milo nodded. “Exactly! I have plans for a string of outrageously overpriced concession stands, with guaranteed business since they’ll be the only source of food for miles. Between that and poorly made souvenirs we’ll be swimming in gold.”
Will stared at Milo. “That sounds appallingly close to the amusement parks back home. I can’t see people coming here voluntarily, much less to spend money, but you’re the expert. If you think this might bring tourists then go for it.”
“Excellent!” Milo shook Will’s hand before leaving. “I expect to have good news within the month.”
When no one else volunteered to share concerns or problems, Will took a deep breath and addressed an issue that had been on his mind for months. “Hugh, I was wondering what it would cost to get you back in business again.”
Hugh Timbers looked surprised. “Sir William?”
“How much money would you need for a new home and blacksmith shop?”
Hugh bit his lower lip. “Building and furnishing a house wouldn’t be expensive when I could make most of it myself. The blacksmith shop would cost fifty gold coins for tools and raw materials. The cost is a moot point, though, for I would need customers and nearby people are already served by a competent blacksmith.”
Will scratched his head. “It would take a while for us to get that much money.”
“Us?” Hugh’s expression turned to a look of shock. “Sir William, no!”
“I want to help,” he said.
Hugh’s face showed surprise quickly changing to sorrow. “Sir, you have already done much by giving me refuge. The caves beneath this land are much like my ancestral home and most comfortable. You’ve requested few services and no money in return. You also granted me the privilege to avenge my loss by fighting at your side against the Eternal Army. I am grateful in ways words can’t express.
“But my home, my forge, this must be made or earned by my own hands. I can’t accept help or it wouldn’t be mine. I know my ways are different from yours, and I know you have only the best of intentions, but I must do this task alone.”
“You don’t have any money,” Will said. “It would take years to earn the cash you need to rebuild.”
Hugh frowned. “I did so once before when my people cast me out. It could take years to do it again. But honor demands a worker own his tools and workshop, paid for with neither gift nor loan, and that I must do.”
Will was curious why the dwarfs had exiled Hugh, but he didn’t ask. It was clear that even bringing up the topic hurt Hugh deeply. “If there’s any help you can accept, all you have to do is ask.”
Hugh bowed. “Your kindness is gift enough.”
“Boss!” Will looked over to see Mr. Niff running through the gatehouse. Mr. Niff dodged a barrage of doilies and throw pillows coming from outside. He turned only long enough to shout, “Your aim stinks!”
“Hey, keep it outside!” London yelled.
Mr. Niff scurried over piles of broken bricks until he reached Will. “A purple puppet person just came through the goblin gate. He said he needs to talk to you about super scary stuff, so I went ahead to let you know he’s coming.”
“This is new,” Will said. He got up and waved for the others to follow. “Niff, can you take us to him? I don’t want the poor guy to get caught in the fighting.”
“No sweat.” Mr. Niff led Will, the trolls, Domo, Vial and Hugh out of the ruined city. A band of goblins were waiting with pillows in hand for Mr. Niff, but they paused when they saw Will. Mr. Niff explained, “I’m helping the boss. We’ll fight to the death after I’m done.”
“Promise?” a gangly goblin asked.
Mr. Niff pushed the other goblins aside and led his friends on. They left the city and entered a young forest growing nearby. Narrow trails wound through the woods, most of which were trapped, but Mr. Niff picked his way around snares, pie throwers and concealed pits.
“I’m curious why a purple puppet person came to us for help,” Will said as they walked. “I thought they lived far away.”
“They do,” Domo told him. “They have a couple small communities scattered around the wilderness, but their homeland is seven hundred miles to the east.”
“They still manage to send people to say hello a couple times a year,” Mr. Niff volunteered.
Will glanced at him. “That’s a long way to go for hello.”
“Not really,” Mr. Niff replied. “We’re the only friends they have.”
Puzzled, Will asked, “Why is that?”
Domo shrugged. “No idea. They’re nice people, and they never get mad at us no matter how many stupid things we do. It’s not like they smell or anything. For some reason we’re the only ones who get along with them.”
“I’d think the trolls would be nice to them,” Will said. “All the trolls I’ve met were good people.”
“Wrong direction,” Domo explained. “Trolls live far to our west. I doubt they’ve met. It doesn’t help that puppet people are a new race. There aren’t many of them and they haven’t been around for long.”
On their way they saw Will’s garden. It wasn’t much to look at, just a patch of dirt surrounded by a rickety wood fence. Most plants in the garden had died weeks ago, but a few root crops and cucumber vines were growing. There was also what looked like a lifeguard tower manned by warrior goblins next to the fence.
One of the goblins saw movement in the forest and leaped off the tower before running screaming into the woods. He came back carrying a live rabbit by its hind legs.
“I got him! I got the long eared thieving bunny!” the goblin shouted triumphantly while dancing around in a circle.
“Hold on,” Will began, but the goblin was too taken with his victory to notice.
“He thought he’d ruin the boss’ garden, but I showed him!”
“What’s this about?” Domo asked.
Feeling faintly embarrassed, Will said, “An animal got in my garden last month and did some damage. When the warrior goblins found out they assigned guards to watch over it, which would be a really nice gesture if they didn’t keep attacking innocent animals and salesmen.”
“Animals are guilty until proven innocent!” the warrior goblin shouted. “And even then they’re guilty!”
“The rabbit wasn’t anywhere near my garden,” Will told him.
“He was thinking about it!” The goblin poked the rabbit in the belly. “You were conspiring! Confess!”
Will said, “Just take it a few miles away and let it go.”
The warrior poked the rabbit again before he marched into the woods. “The King’s going easy on you, but this is still going on your record! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say will be ignored or misinterpreted!”
Will watched the warrior long enough to be sure he wasn’t going to hurt the rabbit before gesturing for Mr. Niff to lead them on. Unfortunately Domo had wandered off to inspect the garden.
“Your weed pile is still alive,” Domo said. He poked a cucumber vine with mildewed leaves. “I figured your plants would have given up and died by now, or that you’d have killed them.”
“The garden should be done for the year pretty soon, but I can still squeeze a bit more out of it for the innkeeper,” Will replied.
Domo looked quizzically at Will. “I thought you grew this green stuff to eat. Why do you keep giving it away?”
Will surveyed his garden and said, “I learned an important fact about myself since I started this: I’m a fair gardener and a terrible cook. None of the meals I made were poisonous, I think, but I ended up feeding a lot of them to passing goblins. It doesn’t help that there’s not much you can do with the plants I could pick from. I did eat some of it, but one more day of vegetable soup would have been the death of me. Can we get back to finding the puppet person? I don’t want him out here alone, especially after I saw the guys using catapults yesterday.”
“Goblin catapults aren’t too dangerous when we load them with sponges,” Mr. Niff said. “Except to goblins using them. People get excited, accidents happen, guys go airborne, but they heal up after a while. Workplace safety rules aren’t what they should be.”
They continued through the woods, going around trenches, small forts and more traps. A few goblins saw them and tagged along, apparently bored with their civil war. In a few minutes they were close enough to see the cave where the goblin gate was. What they didn’t see was the puppet person, which surprised Will. They should have met him by now if he was heading in the right direction.
“Hello!” an echoing voice called out. It took Will a few seconds to spot a pit dug into the trail. It had been covered with a thin wood board coated with dirt, blending in perfectly until some unwitting person stepped on it and broke through. Whoever was trapped in the pit called out again, “Is anyone there?”
“We hear you,” Will replied. He thought about who could be trapped in the pit, and then covered his face with his hand. “Excuse me, but are you the puppet person who came to warn us?”
“Yes, that’s me,” the puppet person replied. He had an echoing voice, like he was speaking inside a box, but he still sounded friendly. “I don’t wish to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could lend a hand. This pit is proving a tad inconvenient.”
“See, this is why I don’t like you guys making so many traps,” Will told the goblins. “We get an ambassador—”
“President,” the puppet person corrected him from inside the pit.
“A president comes to visit and he ends up in a pit!” Will shouted. “We either need to cut back on the traps or have someone around to keep them from catching innocent bystanders.”
“It’s not like we killed the guy,” Mr. Niff protested. He leaned over the pit and asked, “You’re alive, right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Exasperated, Will said, “Just help me get him out.”
Will and the trolls reached down and grabbed the puppet person by his arms. Pulling him up took some work given his considerable weight, made worse by his fully packed bags and a small goblin clinging to his leg, but they managed.
Once they freed the puppet person, Will got a good look at him. Their guest was six feet tall and looked like a man in armor, but he was made entirely of expertly carved wood and molded steel plates. His features weren’t quite human, with shoulders a bit too wide, forearms a bit too thick and his waist a bit too narrow. The puppet person was painted purple with blue stripes on his legs and arms. His face was carved from wood but his mouth and eyes opened and closed, and he had wooden eyebrows that could move. In spite of such rough features the puppet person looked friendly, even sincere.
Hugh studied the puppet person and nodded approvingly. “Good craftsmanship.”
“Thank you,” the puppet person said cheerfully. Holding out his hand to Will, he said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am President Percy of the purple puppet people. I assume from your clothes and scepter that you are William Bradshaw?”
Will shook his hand. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but I didn’t think anyone on Other Place had invented democracy. How is it you’re a president?”
This didn’t seem to bother Percy. “A common question, often followed by ‘what is a president’, and ‘are you kidding?’ Not long ago a group of humans formed an organization called the Barrel Wrights and developed the revolutionary concept that followers should have a say in government. When my people heard about it, we were so excited that we sent an ambassador to them for details. Two months later we had elections, and I’m proud to say I was selected to lead my people.”
“That’s impressive,” Will said. “Congratulations, and I hope you and your people do well.”
“We’re not, and neither are you,” Percy replied. “Our lives and good fortunes are about to come to a grinding halt.”
“I don’t understand,” Will said.
Percy frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m new at speech writing. It sounded good when I came up with the appeal. Let me try again. I recently learned that we’re all going to die in an extremely painful and messy fashion, turning us into mush and our cities into rubble.”
“I see,” Will replied. He paused a moment before asking, “So, is this a ‘kiss your loved ones goodbye’ kind of situation, or can we prevent it?”
“I don’t want to get kissed,” London said quickly. He and his brother backed away from Will.
“That’s a fascinating question I have no answer to,” Percy replied. “My people learned of this catastrophe only recently. We knew it was coming, but we thought we had decades longer to prepare. Sadly that assumption has proven untrue, and we are unready. Faced with this dire portent, I spoke with my advisers and we developed a plan.”
“Break down and cry?” Mr. Niff asked.
“That’s option two,” Percy replied. “Option one was to seek help. We sent ambassadors to neighboring kingdoms but they were turned away. Some were even attacked. Given the limited time remaining, I personally undertook a mission to our best and most powerful allies, the goblins.”
Domo stared at Percy. “We’re the best you could do?”
“We call only goblins friend,” Percy replied. “Even if that weren’t so, your deeds bring hope to many. We heard how time and again you did the impossible. Armies fought you and lost. The Staff of Skulls, said to be immortal, died at your hands. You imprisoned the Eternal Army in a tomb of rock. Even the richest man alive couldn’t best you.”
“We have been beating the odds lately,” Vial said.
Percy pointed at the small goblin with him. “Goblin gates were the only way to reach you in time, so I enlisted the aid of a goblin living in our land to provide the stupidity and craziness to power the gates.”
“The gates aren’t a reliable way of getting around,” Will said.
“Indeed, it took days to reach you, and we visited many distant lands in the process,” Percy replied. “I dispatched other puppet people with the same goal, but it seems I arrived first. Time consuming and dangerous as it was, the trip was worth the effort. My people need help, but aiding us helps both friends and strangers you have yet to meet. The lives of countless millions are at stake.”
“We’ll do whatever we can, but you’ve been kind of vague on details,” Will told Percy. “Exactly what are we dealing with? If we knew more we’d have a better idea of what we could do about it.”
Percy shook Will’s hand again. “Thank you! Your support means much to us, but then again we’ve always been able to count on our goblin friends in times of need.”
Will looked at Domo, who shrugged and said, “I don’t know what he’s talking about, either.”
Percy continued speaking before Will could ask for details. “Your request for information is natural, but I fear there is little I can provide. A people long since gone created a grave threat. They were a secretive group who lived on an island in the sea, and they were enemies to the men who created the first purple puppet people. Those who made this threat allowed no visitors of any kind to their island, even attacking merchants under the assumption they were spies.”
“Ah, good old-fashioned paranoia,” Domo said.
Percy looked down and spoke in a hushed voice. “They made a being capable of terrible destruction. None save his makers knew exactly what he could do, but all fear the worst. His creators are long dead yet he survived. Witnesses saw him howl in rage for his lost creators before marching into the sea. Many thought him lost, drowned or crushed by the intense pressure of the deep ocean. My people knew better. He is not dead, nor has he forgotten the loss of his makers. He has crossed the ocean floor and shall soon emerge to reap a terrible vengeance.”
“Can you at least tell me what this thing is called?” Will asked.
“His name is Sarcamusaad, the Walking City,” Percy told him, “and I fear he is the doom of us all.”
Will remembered hearing the name before, but knew nothing more. If he had any doubts of how serious the threat was, it was dispelled when the trolls and goblins gasped at the news. “It’s that bad?”
Domo gulped nervously. “Not end of the world bad, but a close second.”
“Okay, we’ve got a poorly understood threat that everyone agrees is big,” Will said. “That’s a start, but if we’re going to fight back we need more facts, more friends and weapons to stop this thing.”
“Does that include making ridiculously large bombs?” Vial asked hopefully.
Will patted him on the head. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. But those take a while to build. How long do we have to prepare?”
“I wish I knew,” Percy replied. “Sarcamusaad approaches land, that much we know, but he hasn’t set foot on solid ground. He should reach it soon, and when he does destruction is assured.”
“Well let’s get you back to our city, or the ruins of our city, and we’ll talk more about it,” Will said.
“Again, thank you,” Percy replied. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am. This has been a—” Percy froze in place. He looked to the south and cupped his hand to his ear. “No, not yet.”
Will grabbed his scepter. “What is it?”
“I hear something.” Percy scanned the horizon. “More than that, there’s a taste to the air I’m not familiar with. Magic approaches. It’s strong, but connected to…oh no. He found me.”
“Who found you?” Will asked. “Who’s looking for you?”
Percy stepped back and raised his arms. Short blades slid from each forearm, and he announced, “The shadow of Sarcamusaad falls upon us. Make ready for battle!”
“Spread out!” Will ordered. His friends took cover, with Mr. Niff drawing his knife while Vial gleefully plucked bombs from inside his lab coat. Will scanned the horizon for the danger Percy already seemed aware of. He saw nothing, and as the seconds rolled by he wondered if Percy was mistaken. Then he heard a faint buzzing from the south, like cicadas only more constant. The noise grew louder, but with dense tree cover Will couldn’t spot its source. He turned to Percy and asked, “What are we looking for?”
Percy didn’t have time to answer before a monster cast in bronze flew over the tops of the trees. Will only got a passing look at it, which was bad enough. It had a bronze body as big as a pickup truck and a long tail trailing behind it. There was a blur of motion along its side, wings moving too fast to be seen. It went over them like a shot before making a wide turn and coming back. The bronze monstrosity landed on the trail with a splat as its six legs sunk deep into the muddy ground. It needed a few seconds to pull itself free, offering Will a chance to see it clearly.
It was an entomologist’s nightmare. The body resembled a huge dragonfly with a hunched back sporting four long wings. But the head had a long horn on the nose and two coming from the side of its head like a rhinoceros beetle. There was also a scorpion’s tail as long as its body, ending in a wickedly barbed blade as long as a sword. It also had scorpion arms with man-sized pincers. Now that it wasn’t flying the buzzing noise was gone, replaced with a harsh metallic clanking.
“This is new and unpleasant,” Vial said.
Percy stepped forward and lowered his arms. “Sarcamusaad, mighty one, I beseech you to hear my pleas! We are not your enemies. We are friends made by the same magic. My people and I seek only peace. There is no need for violence.”
The monster disagreed. The insect horror raised its tail, and to Will’s amazement it fired its stinger at Percy. The blade was attached by a bronze chain and aimed straight for Percy’s chest. Will grabbed Percy and pulled him aside a fraction of a second before the blade struck. It flew on fifty feet to stab into the ground. The monster whipped its tail backwards, and the chain and blade flew back.
Thinking fast, Will aimed his fire scepter at the chain as it retracted. The salamander inside the scepter’s largest fire opal scowled as Will turned the scepter on. FOOM! A blast of white-hot fire shot into the air and melted the chain. The blade landed in front of the monster, useless to it.
“Flank it!” Will ordered. “All its weapons are on the front!”
The monstrous contraption lumbered forward swinging its pincers and horns. London and Brooklyn went to its left while Vial and Mr. Niff went right. Domo and Hugh led nearby goblins around the monster’s back. The bronze monster tried to catch London in its pincers but missed.
“Stop!” Percy cried out. “Sarcamusaad, your fight isn’t with us!”
The bronze horror charged Percy and tried to gore him with its horns. Percy and Will ran, leaving the monster to trample young trees and tear up the ground. Vial threw bombs at the monster, doing little damage, while Mr. Niff climbed up its legs and onto its back. The little goblin slid his knife between armor plates and cut vulnerable parts inside.
It was the trolls who did the most to hurt the monster. They grabbed one of its long wings and pulled for all they were worth. The monster shrieked, making a noise like a chainsaw as they ripped the wing off. It turned to face them, only to have Hugh, Domo and the goblins pile on.
“Guys, I need a clear shot!” Will shouted, but no one heard him over the noise of battle. Goblins hammered at the monster with their fists and Hugh pried up an armor plate near the back. The monster shook itself like a wet dog and threw them off, but Vial spotted the opening Hugh had made in its armor and threw his next bomb there. The monster buckled when the bomb went off inside it, and its tail went slack.
Far from defeated, the monster charged Percy again. Percy jumped out of its way and drove both his forearm blades where the monster’s right arm met its body. The blades cut through the thinner armor at the joint. The monster grabbed for him again, but Will was ready. He had a clear shot at the arm and fired his scepter. FOOM! The pincer melted under the intense flames and fell off.
London, Brooklyn and Hugh grabbed the monster’s limp tail and pulled hard. Between the three of them they slowed the beast down while goblins scurried over its legs and hammered at the joints. That wasn’t enough. It twisted its head and struck Percy with a horn, knocking him to the ground. The puppet person rolled away before the monster could catch him on its horns again.
Will pulled Percy away as the monster tried to trample them both. It attacked with its other pincer, but Will swept his cape in front of him. The pincer disappeared into the shimmering cape instead of striking him, coming out of the cape of a goblin scarecrow thirty yards away.
“Fascinating!” Percy told Will. “You must tell me how you did it!”
“Bigger problems at the moment!” Will answered. The monster pulled its claw back through the cape and tried again. Will grabbed Percy and wrapped his cape around them both. They disappeared with a whoosh, trading places with the nearby scarecrow. The monster snapped the empty uniform in half and then shook off the trolls and goblins. It flapped its remaining three wings, and to Will’s surprise it managed to lift five inches off the ground with no sign of stopping.
“Narrow,” Will told his scepter as he aimed it at the wings. FOOM! White-hot flames burned off half a wing and the monster fell to the ground. FOOM! He sent another blast at the monster’s head and burned off one of its horns. This didn’t seem to bother it in the least. “What does it take to stop this thing?”
Vial threw more bombs, blowing gaping holes in the remaining wings. London and Brooklyn scrambled to their feet. London grabbed the tail blade Will had removed with his first attack while his brother grabbed the severed horn. They drove the weapons through the monster’s armored hide to the sound of metal screaming as it tore. Mr. Niff climbed back onto the monster, but this time he crawled into the hole Hugh had made when he’d pulled up the armor plate.
“Niff, get out of there!” Will yelled. He didn’t dare fire again with Mr. Niff inside. Even if he didn’t hit the little goblin, the fire could cook him alive inside the metal monster. Mr. Niff didn’t leave.
The monster swung its remaining pincer at the trolls and knocked them to the ground before it charged Percy and Will again. It covered the distance in seconds and made a credible attempt to run them through with its two remaining horns, but at the last moment its legs buckled. The monster hit the ground and dug a deep furrow in the grass. It went into spasms, kicking its legs and swinging its pincer wildly before falling silent. Smoke rose from its armored carcass.
Covered in grime and smiling, Mr. Niff climbed out of the hole in the mechanical monster’s back and tossed a handful of cables and wires on the ground. “You guys got to see this! There’s lots of cool stuff in here!”
Will and his friends gathered around the steaming metal body. They stared at the strange monster that was so hard to defeat.
“Tough bug,” London said. “I actually broke a sweat.”
“That’s Sarcamusaad?” Will asked Percy.
Percy shook his head. “This is one of his scouts, his eyes and ears when he is still far away. Now he knows we are preparing for him, and our task is that much harder.”
Far away, and blissfully unaware of the approaching terror, Will carried a chair out of a tunnel and into the ruins that used to be the Goblin City. The wood chair was beautifully carved and sturdy, a gift from a king he’d helped the previous year. Will set it down on a patch of relatively flat ground next to Vial and Domo.
“Table coming through!” London and Brooklyn the trolls exited the same tunnel with an ornate wood table. The trolls stood over six feet tall and had green scales, serious under-bites and ears that looked like fish fins, and they wore only cotton trousers. They also had incredible strength and endurance. London was a tad taller and a darker shade of green than his brother, but otherwise they were identical.
The trolls had wandered into the kingdom years ago and volunteered to act as enforcers for numerous men who’d been King of the Goblins. With personalities like rugby players or soccer hooligans, they’d raised unnecessary force to an art form. For all the brothers’ faults, they were loyal and wouldn’t back down no matter the odds, and had saved Will’s life on many occasions.
Following them was Hugh Timbers the dwarf and Milo the minotaur, both carrying chairs. Hugh stood a head shorter than Will, but was heavier and had broad shoulders, powerful muscles, thick brown hair and wore simple leather clothes. Hugh had lost his home and business to the Eternal Army last winter and had settled in Will’s kingdom. The dwarf was polite and helped when he could, but Will could tell that he was still hurting.
Milo was a thoroughly modern minotaur dressed in a black frock coat, white dress shirt, black pants, briefcase and glasses. His fine clothes and refined speech made him slightly less intimidating, but couldn’t change the fact he was seven feet tall, had short brown fur and a bull’s head with long horns. He’d come to the kingdom last year to develop the goblin’s maze into a moneymaking venture.
London and Brooklyn set down the table and the others pulled their chairs around it. Domo and Vial climbed onto the table and the rest sat down.
“Gentlemen,” Will began with a smile, “I’ve been thinking we should have regular meetings to keep everyone up to date on what’s going on in the kingdom.”
“You mean like who’s invading us this week?” Domo asked.
“Ideally no,” Will replied.
“We have been invaded a lot,” London said.
“Not that we’re complaining,” Brooklyn added. “You get lots of exercise roughing people up in an invasion.”
Will frowned and put a hand over his face. “I’d like to know how everyone is doing, and if there’s anything important I should know about.”
“Why are we doing this outside?” Domo asked.
Vial raised a hand and said, “The American cheese and Pepper Jack factions are fighting in the tunnels. I’m told the battle is quite fierce, with much doily related violence.”
“Out here we’re close to the maze, so the civil war won’t interfere with our meeting,” Will said. “We should have the place to ourselves for now. I’m opening the floor to anyone and all topics.”
Milo opened his briefcase and spread papers on the table. “Since you were kind enough to ask, I have a report on maze profitability and expansion plans.”
Will waved his hand. “Go on.”
“I’m afraid maze revenues have been disappointing,” Milo said. He handed out papers with pie charts and bar graphs, but Domo and Vial ate the pages. “After an exhaustive statistical analysis, I’ve determined that in the last three months we have had zero visitors, plus or minus ten.”
“How do you get minus ten visitors?” Domo asked Milo.
“They thought about coming but decided against it.” Milo handed out more papers, this time making sure they went nowhere near the goblins. “This has had an unfortunate effect on sales of maps, and deluxe maps detailing trap locations. I believe the problem is marketing. People know the maze is here, but they don’t see a reason to enter it.”
“I don’t go in if I can help it,” Will admitted.
“That is a common response from people I’ve chased down and interviewed,” Milo replied. “There are two traditional reasons for entering a maze, to test one’s mental abilities or because there is treasure worth having in the maze, a tangible reward for completion.”
Will held out his empty hands. “We’re broke, Milo. The kingdom has a net worth measured in negative numbers. People don’t want anything we have. If we gave it to them, or forced it on them, they’d have to pay to get rid of it.”
“I could donate an exploding outhouse,” Vial offered.
“Hey, Will, we could get rid of those turnips you grew,” Domo suggested.
“How about a coupon for a free beating?” London offered. “One coupon gets one of your enemies beaten up.”
Brooklyn perked up. “I like that one.”
Milo scribbled notes on his papers. “Those are all good suggestions.”
“No they’re not,” Will said.
Milo pointed at the second stack of papers he’d handed out. “At the moment our best bet to attract visitors is to represent the maze as a challenge. I’ve come up with a marketing plan that makes the best use of our limited resources. With your approval, I can begin spreading these publicly.”
Will looked at the papers. The first read ‘The Maze of the Goblins: There’s got to be something in there’. This was followed by ‘The Maze of the Goblins: A challenge that probably won’t result in cannibalism’. The last suggestion was ‘The Maze of the Goblins: Like you’ve got something better to do’. Will handed Milo back the papers and asked, “You think this is going to draw visitors?”
“Definitely,” Milo said. “Our target audience includes adventurers, treasure hunters and the bored rich. We need to appeal to their greed and vanity while making the maze seem more dangerous than it really is.”
“And once they’re here we take them for all they’re worth,” Domo said.
Milo nodded. “Exactly! I have plans for a string of outrageously overpriced concession stands, with guaranteed business since they’ll be the only source of food for miles. Between that and poorly made souvenirs we’ll be swimming in gold.”
Will stared at Milo. “That sounds appallingly close to the amusement parks back home. I can’t see people coming here voluntarily, much less to spend money, but you’re the expert. If you think this might bring tourists then go for it.”
“Excellent!” Milo shook Will’s hand before leaving. “I expect to have good news within the month.”
When no one else volunteered to share concerns or problems, Will took a deep breath and addressed an issue that had been on his mind for months. “Hugh, I was wondering what it would cost to get you back in business again.”
Hugh Timbers looked surprised. “Sir William?”
“How much money would you need for a new home and blacksmith shop?”
Hugh bit his lower lip. “Building and furnishing a house wouldn’t be expensive when I could make most of it myself. The blacksmith shop would cost fifty gold coins for tools and raw materials. The cost is a moot point, though, for I would need customers and nearby people are already served by a competent blacksmith.”
Will scratched his head. “It would take a while for us to get that much money.”
“Us?” Hugh’s expression turned to a look of shock. “Sir William, no!”
“I want to help,” he said.
Hugh’s face showed surprise quickly changing to sorrow. “Sir, you have already done much by giving me refuge. The caves beneath this land are much like my ancestral home and most comfortable. You’ve requested few services and no money in return. You also granted me the privilege to avenge my loss by fighting at your side against the Eternal Army. I am grateful in ways words can’t express.
“But my home, my forge, this must be made or earned by my own hands. I can’t accept help or it wouldn’t be mine. I know my ways are different from yours, and I know you have only the best of intentions, but I must do this task alone.”
“You don’t have any money,” Will said. “It would take years to earn the cash you need to rebuild.”
Hugh frowned. “I did so once before when my people cast me out. It could take years to do it again. But honor demands a worker own his tools and workshop, paid for with neither gift nor loan, and that I must do.”
Will was curious why the dwarfs had exiled Hugh, but he didn’t ask. It was clear that even bringing up the topic hurt Hugh deeply. “If there’s any help you can accept, all you have to do is ask.”
Hugh bowed. “Your kindness is gift enough.”
“Boss!” Will looked over to see Mr. Niff running through the gatehouse. Mr. Niff dodged a barrage of doilies and throw pillows coming from outside. He turned only long enough to shout, “Your aim stinks!”
“Hey, keep it outside!” London yelled.
Mr. Niff scurried over piles of broken bricks until he reached Will. “A purple puppet person just came through the goblin gate. He said he needs to talk to you about super scary stuff, so I went ahead to let you know he’s coming.”
“This is new,” Will said. He got up and waved for the others to follow. “Niff, can you take us to him? I don’t want the poor guy to get caught in the fighting.”
“No sweat.” Mr. Niff led Will, the trolls, Domo, Vial and Hugh out of the ruined city. A band of goblins were waiting with pillows in hand for Mr. Niff, but they paused when they saw Will. Mr. Niff explained, “I’m helping the boss. We’ll fight to the death after I’m done.”
“Promise?” a gangly goblin asked.
Mr. Niff pushed the other goblins aside and led his friends on. They left the city and entered a young forest growing nearby. Narrow trails wound through the woods, most of which were trapped, but Mr. Niff picked his way around snares, pie throwers and concealed pits.
“I’m curious why a purple puppet person came to us for help,” Will said as they walked. “I thought they lived far away.”
“They do,” Domo told him. “They have a couple small communities scattered around the wilderness, but their homeland is seven hundred miles to the east.”
“They still manage to send people to say hello a couple times a year,” Mr. Niff volunteered.
Will glanced at him. “That’s a long way to go for hello.”
“Not really,” Mr. Niff replied. “We’re the only friends they have.”
Puzzled, Will asked, “Why is that?”
Domo shrugged. “No idea. They’re nice people, and they never get mad at us no matter how many stupid things we do. It’s not like they smell or anything. For some reason we’re the only ones who get along with them.”
“I’d think the trolls would be nice to them,” Will said. “All the trolls I’ve met were good people.”
“Wrong direction,” Domo explained. “Trolls live far to our west. I doubt they’ve met. It doesn’t help that puppet people are a new race. There aren’t many of them and they haven’t been around for long.”
On their way they saw Will’s garden. It wasn’t much to look at, just a patch of dirt surrounded by a rickety wood fence. Most plants in the garden had died weeks ago, but a few root crops and cucumber vines were growing. There was also what looked like a lifeguard tower manned by warrior goblins next to the fence.
One of the goblins saw movement in the forest and leaped off the tower before running screaming into the woods. He came back carrying a live rabbit by its hind legs.
“I got him! I got the long eared thieving bunny!” the goblin shouted triumphantly while dancing around in a circle.
“Hold on,” Will began, but the goblin was too taken with his victory to notice.
“He thought he’d ruin the boss’ garden, but I showed him!”
“What’s this about?” Domo asked.
Feeling faintly embarrassed, Will said, “An animal got in my garden last month and did some damage. When the warrior goblins found out they assigned guards to watch over it, which would be a really nice gesture if they didn’t keep attacking innocent animals and salesmen.”
“Animals are guilty until proven innocent!” the warrior goblin shouted. “And even then they’re guilty!”
“The rabbit wasn’t anywhere near my garden,” Will told him.
“He was thinking about it!” The goblin poked the rabbit in the belly. “You were conspiring! Confess!”
Will said, “Just take it a few miles away and let it go.”
The warrior poked the rabbit again before he marched into the woods. “The King’s going easy on you, but this is still going on your record! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say will be ignored or misinterpreted!”
Will watched the warrior long enough to be sure he wasn’t going to hurt the rabbit before gesturing for Mr. Niff to lead them on. Unfortunately Domo had wandered off to inspect the garden.
“Your weed pile is still alive,” Domo said. He poked a cucumber vine with mildewed leaves. “I figured your plants would have given up and died by now, or that you’d have killed them.”
“The garden should be done for the year pretty soon, but I can still squeeze a bit more out of it for the innkeeper,” Will replied.
Domo looked quizzically at Will. “I thought you grew this green stuff to eat. Why do you keep giving it away?”
Will surveyed his garden and said, “I learned an important fact about myself since I started this: I’m a fair gardener and a terrible cook. None of the meals I made were poisonous, I think, but I ended up feeding a lot of them to passing goblins. It doesn’t help that there’s not much you can do with the plants I could pick from. I did eat some of it, but one more day of vegetable soup would have been the death of me. Can we get back to finding the puppet person? I don’t want him out here alone, especially after I saw the guys using catapults yesterday.”
“Goblin catapults aren’t too dangerous when we load them with sponges,” Mr. Niff said. “Except to goblins using them. People get excited, accidents happen, guys go airborne, but they heal up after a while. Workplace safety rules aren’t what they should be.”
They continued through the woods, going around trenches, small forts and more traps. A few goblins saw them and tagged along, apparently bored with their civil war. In a few minutes they were close enough to see the cave where the goblin gate was. What they didn’t see was the puppet person, which surprised Will. They should have met him by now if he was heading in the right direction.
“Hello!” an echoing voice called out. It took Will a few seconds to spot a pit dug into the trail. It had been covered with a thin wood board coated with dirt, blending in perfectly until some unwitting person stepped on it and broke through. Whoever was trapped in the pit called out again, “Is anyone there?”
“We hear you,” Will replied. He thought about who could be trapped in the pit, and then covered his face with his hand. “Excuse me, but are you the puppet person who came to warn us?”
“Yes, that’s me,” the puppet person replied. He had an echoing voice, like he was speaking inside a box, but he still sounded friendly. “I don’t wish to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could lend a hand. This pit is proving a tad inconvenient.”
“See, this is why I don’t like you guys making so many traps,” Will told the goblins. “We get an ambassador—”
“President,” the puppet person corrected him from inside the pit.
“A president comes to visit and he ends up in a pit!” Will shouted. “We either need to cut back on the traps or have someone around to keep them from catching innocent bystanders.”
“It’s not like we killed the guy,” Mr. Niff protested. He leaned over the pit and asked, “You’re alive, right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Exasperated, Will said, “Just help me get him out.”
Will and the trolls reached down and grabbed the puppet person by his arms. Pulling him up took some work given his considerable weight, made worse by his fully packed bags and a small goblin clinging to his leg, but they managed.
Once they freed the puppet person, Will got a good look at him. Their guest was six feet tall and looked like a man in armor, but he was made entirely of expertly carved wood and molded steel plates. His features weren’t quite human, with shoulders a bit too wide, forearms a bit too thick and his waist a bit too narrow. The puppet person was painted purple with blue stripes on his legs and arms. His face was carved from wood but his mouth and eyes opened and closed, and he had wooden eyebrows that could move. In spite of such rough features the puppet person looked friendly, even sincere.
Hugh studied the puppet person and nodded approvingly. “Good craftsmanship.”
“Thank you,” the puppet person said cheerfully. Holding out his hand to Will, he said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am President Percy of the purple puppet people. I assume from your clothes and scepter that you are William Bradshaw?”
Will shook his hand. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but I didn’t think anyone on Other Place had invented democracy. How is it you’re a president?”
This didn’t seem to bother Percy. “A common question, often followed by ‘what is a president’, and ‘are you kidding?’ Not long ago a group of humans formed an organization called the Barrel Wrights and developed the revolutionary concept that followers should have a say in government. When my people heard about it, we were so excited that we sent an ambassador to them for details. Two months later we had elections, and I’m proud to say I was selected to lead my people.”
“That’s impressive,” Will said. “Congratulations, and I hope you and your people do well.”
“We’re not, and neither are you,” Percy replied. “Our lives and good fortunes are about to come to a grinding halt.”
“I don’t understand,” Will said.
Percy frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m new at speech writing. It sounded good when I came up with the appeal. Let me try again. I recently learned that we’re all going to die in an extremely painful and messy fashion, turning us into mush and our cities into rubble.”
“I see,” Will replied. He paused a moment before asking, “So, is this a ‘kiss your loved ones goodbye’ kind of situation, or can we prevent it?”
“I don’t want to get kissed,” London said quickly. He and his brother backed away from Will.
“That’s a fascinating question I have no answer to,” Percy replied. “My people learned of this catastrophe only recently. We knew it was coming, but we thought we had decades longer to prepare. Sadly that assumption has proven untrue, and we are unready. Faced with this dire portent, I spoke with my advisers and we developed a plan.”
“Break down and cry?” Mr. Niff asked.
“That’s option two,” Percy replied. “Option one was to seek help. We sent ambassadors to neighboring kingdoms but they were turned away. Some were even attacked. Given the limited time remaining, I personally undertook a mission to our best and most powerful allies, the goblins.”
Domo stared at Percy. “We’re the best you could do?”
“We call only goblins friend,” Percy replied. “Even if that weren’t so, your deeds bring hope to many. We heard how time and again you did the impossible. Armies fought you and lost. The Staff of Skulls, said to be immortal, died at your hands. You imprisoned the Eternal Army in a tomb of rock. Even the richest man alive couldn’t best you.”
“We have been beating the odds lately,” Vial said.
Percy pointed at the small goblin with him. “Goblin gates were the only way to reach you in time, so I enlisted the aid of a goblin living in our land to provide the stupidity and craziness to power the gates.”
“The gates aren’t a reliable way of getting around,” Will said.
“Indeed, it took days to reach you, and we visited many distant lands in the process,” Percy replied. “I dispatched other puppet people with the same goal, but it seems I arrived first. Time consuming and dangerous as it was, the trip was worth the effort. My people need help, but aiding us helps both friends and strangers you have yet to meet. The lives of countless millions are at stake.”
“We’ll do whatever we can, but you’ve been kind of vague on details,” Will told Percy. “Exactly what are we dealing with? If we knew more we’d have a better idea of what we could do about it.”
Percy shook Will’s hand again. “Thank you! Your support means much to us, but then again we’ve always been able to count on our goblin friends in times of need.”
Will looked at Domo, who shrugged and said, “I don’t know what he’s talking about, either.”
Percy continued speaking before Will could ask for details. “Your request for information is natural, but I fear there is little I can provide. A people long since gone created a grave threat. They were a secretive group who lived on an island in the sea, and they were enemies to the men who created the first purple puppet people. Those who made this threat allowed no visitors of any kind to their island, even attacking merchants under the assumption they were spies.”
“Ah, good old-fashioned paranoia,” Domo said.
Percy looked down and spoke in a hushed voice. “They made a being capable of terrible destruction. None save his makers knew exactly what he could do, but all fear the worst. His creators are long dead yet he survived. Witnesses saw him howl in rage for his lost creators before marching into the sea. Many thought him lost, drowned or crushed by the intense pressure of the deep ocean. My people knew better. He is not dead, nor has he forgotten the loss of his makers. He has crossed the ocean floor and shall soon emerge to reap a terrible vengeance.”
“Can you at least tell me what this thing is called?” Will asked.
“His name is Sarcamusaad, the Walking City,” Percy told him, “and I fear he is the doom of us all.”
Will remembered hearing the name before, but knew nothing more. If he had any doubts of how serious the threat was, it was dispelled when the trolls and goblins gasped at the news. “It’s that bad?”
Domo gulped nervously. “Not end of the world bad, but a close second.”
“Okay, we’ve got a poorly understood threat that everyone agrees is big,” Will said. “That’s a start, but if we’re going to fight back we need more facts, more friends and weapons to stop this thing.”
“Does that include making ridiculously large bombs?” Vial asked hopefully.
Will patted him on the head. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. But those take a while to build. How long do we have to prepare?”
“I wish I knew,” Percy replied. “Sarcamusaad approaches land, that much we know, but he hasn’t set foot on solid ground. He should reach it soon, and when he does destruction is assured.”
“Well let’s get you back to our city, or the ruins of our city, and we’ll talk more about it,” Will said.
“Again, thank you,” Percy replied. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am. This has been a—” Percy froze in place. He looked to the south and cupped his hand to his ear. “No, not yet.”
Will grabbed his scepter. “What is it?”
“I hear something.” Percy scanned the horizon. “More than that, there’s a taste to the air I’m not familiar with. Magic approaches. It’s strong, but connected to…oh no. He found me.”
“Who found you?” Will asked. “Who’s looking for you?”
Percy stepped back and raised his arms. Short blades slid from each forearm, and he announced, “The shadow of Sarcamusaad falls upon us. Make ready for battle!”
“Spread out!” Will ordered. His friends took cover, with Mr. Niff drawing his knife while Vial gleefully plucked bombs from inside his lab coat. Will scanned the horizon for the danger Percy already seemed aware of. He saw nothing, and as the seconds rolled by he wondered if Percy was mistaken. Then he heard a faint buzzing from the south, like cicadas only more constant. The noise grew louder, but with dense tree cover Will couldn’t spot its source. He turned to Percy and asked, “What are we looking for?”
Percy didn’t have time to answer before a monster cast in bronze flew over the tops of the trees. Will only got a passing look at it, which was bad enough. It had a bronze body as big as a pickup truck and a long tail trailing behind it. There was a blur of motion along its side, wings moving too fast to be seen. It went over them like a shot before making a wide turn and coming back. The bronze monstrosity landed on the trail with a splat as its six legs sunk deep into the muddy ground. It needed a few seconds to pull itself free, offering Will a chance to see it clearly.
It was an entomologist’s nightmare. The body resembled a huge dragonfly with a hunched back sporting four long wings. But the head had a long horn on the nose and two coming from the side of its head like a rhinoceros beetle. There was also a scorpion’s tail as long as its body, ending in a wickedly barbed blade as long as a sword. It also had scorpion arms with man-sized pincers. Now that it wasn’t flying the buzzing noise was gone, replaced with a harsh metallic clanking.
“This is new and unpleasant,” Vial said.
Percy stepped forward and lowered his arms. “Sarcamusaad, mighty one, I beseech you to hear my pleas! We are not your enemies. We are friends made by the same magic. My people and I seek only peace. There is no need for violence.”
The monster disagreed. The insect horror raised its tail, and to Will’s amazement it fired its stinger at Percy. The blade was attached by a bronze chain and aimed straight for Percy’s chest. Will grabbed Percy and pulled him aside a fraction of a second before the blade struck. It flew on fifty feet to stab into the ground. The monster whipped its tail backwards, and the chain and blade flew back.
Thinking fast, Will aimed his fire scepter at the chain as it retracted. The salamander inside the scepter’s largest fire opal scowled as Will turned the scepter on. FOOM! A blast of white-hot fire shot into the air and melted the chain. The blade landed in front of the monster, useless to it.
“Flank it!” Will ordered. “All its weapons are on the front!”
The monstrous contraption lumbered forward swinging its pincers and horns. London and Brooklyn went to its left while Vial and Mr. Niff went right. Domo and Hugh led nearby goblins around the monster’s back. The bronze monster tried to catch London in its pincers but missed.
“Stop!” Percy cried out. “Sarcamusaad, your fight isn’t with us!”
The bronze horror charged Percy and tried to gore him with its horns. Percy and Will ran, leaving the monster to trample young trees and tear up the ground. Vial threw bombs at the monster, doing little damage, while Mr. Niff climbed up its legs and onto its back. The little goblin slid his knife between armor plates and cut vulnerable parts inside.
It was the trolls who did the most to hurt the monster. They grabbed one of its long wings and pulled for all they were worth. The monster shrieked, making a noise like a chainsaw as they ripped the wing off. It turned to face them, only to have Hugh, Domo and the goblins pile on.
“Guys, I need a clear shot!” Will shouted, but no one heard him over the noise of battle. Goblins hammered at the monster with their fists and Hugh pried up an armor plate near the back. The monster shook itself like a wet dog and threw them off, but Vial spotted the opening Hugh had made in its armor and threw his next bomb there. The monster buckled when the bomb went off inside it, and its tail went slack.
Far from defeated, the monster charged Percy again. Percy jumped out of its way and drove both his forearm blades where the monster’s right arm met its body. The blades cut through the thinner armor at the joint. The monster grabbed for him again, but Will was ready. He had a clear shot at the arm and fired his scepter. FOOM! The pincer melted under the intense flames and fell off.
London, Brooklyn and Hugh grabbed the monster’s limp tail and pulled hard. Between the three of them they slowed the beast down while goblins scurried over its legs and hammered at the joints. That wasn’t enough. It twisted its head and struck Percy with a horn, knocking him to the ground. The puppet person rolled away before the monster could catch him on its horns again.
Will pulled Percy away as the monster tried to trample them both. It attacked with its other pincer, but Will swept his cape in front of him. The pincer disappeared into the shimmering cape instead of striking him, coming out of the cape of a goblin scarecrow thirty yards away.
“Fascinating!” Percy told Will. “You must tell me how you did it!”
“Bigger problems at the moment!” Will answered. The monster pulled its claw back through the cape and tried again. Will grabbed Percy and wrapped his cape around them both. They disappeared with a whoosh, trading places with the nearby scarecrow. The monster snapped the empty uniform in half and then shook off the trolls and goblins. It flapped its remaining three wings, and to Will’s surprise it managed to lift five inches off the ground with no sign of stopping.
“Narrow,” Will told his scepter as he aimed it at the wings. FOOM! White-hot flames burned off half a wing and the monster fell to the ground. FOOM! He sent another blast at the monster’s head and burned off one of its horns. This didn’t seem to bother it in the least. “What does it take to stop this thing?”
Vial threw more bombs, blowing gaping holes in the remaining wings. London and Brooklyn scrambled to their feet. London grabbed the tail blade Will had removed with his first attack while his brother grabbed the severed horn. They drove the weapons through the monster’s armored hide to the sound of metal screaming as it tore. Mr. Niff climbed back onto the monster, but this time he crawled into the hole Hugh had made when he’d pulled up the armor plate.
“Niff, get out of there!” Will yelled. He didn’t dare fire again with Mr. Niff inside. Even if he didn’t hit the little goblin, the fire could cook him alive inside the metal monster. Mr. Niff didn’t leave.
The monster swung its remaining pincer at the trolls and knocked them to the ground before it charged Percy and Will again. It covered the distance in seconds and made a credible attempt to run them through with its two remaining horns, but at the last moment its legs buckled. The monster hit the ground and dug a deep furrow in the grass. It went into spasms, kicking its legs and swinging its pincer wildly before falling silent. Smoke rose from its armored carcass.
Covered in grime and smiling, Mr. Niff climbed out of the hole in the mechanical monster’s back and tossed a handful of cables and wires on the ground. “You guys got to see this! There’s lots of cool stuff in here!”
Will and his friends gathered around the steaming metal body. They stared at the strange monster that was so hard to defeat.
“Tough bug,” London said. “I actually broke a sweat.”
“That’s Sarcamusaad?” Will asked Percy.
Percy shook his head. “This is one of his scouts, his eyes and ears when he is still far away. Now he knows we are preparing for him, and our task is that much harder.”
May 31, 2019
William Bradshaw and Urban Problems chapter 1
Chapter 1
Will walked down a muddy road running through fields and light forests, and for the millionth time he wished that someone on the world of Other Place had invented antiperspirant. Deodorant would be nice, too. He’d come up with a long list of things someone should have been clever enough to come up with, and antiperspirant was on the top.
Will was a young man with brown hair and gray eyes, and reasonably fit. His clothes included black pants, a green shirt, a cape that was black on the outside and green on the inside, a black hat with a green ribbon in the brim, and black boots. Normally his outfit included a black vest and black gloves with green fingers, but he’d left these at home because of the heat. In addition to a bronze fire scepter and bag of vegetables he’d grown in a small garden, he carried a hollow gourd filled with water. The gourd held almost a gallon, and although it was still morning, Will could drink it by afternoon.
In theory it was October, although you’d never guess it. There were no cool days and chilly nights in a gentle lead in to winter. Summer was being a very poor sport about the whole ‘changing of the seasons’ business, and August’s heat had never left. Mornings started warm and muggy, with afternoons hot enough to fry an egg and so humid it felt like he was swimming instead of walking. Sweat plastered Will’s clothes to his body.
Will left the Kingdom of the Goblins and headed for the nearest human town. Partly that was to get food, but there was another reason. He needed time away from his friends and followers, and this was the only way to get it.
His goblin followers were short, stupid and a bit crazy, and no two looked alike. Their skin color, height and weight varied astonishingly. Many had exaggerated features, such as large eyes or ears, big feet or arms longer than normal. Some even had stunted wings or an extra arm. Goblins were one of the most despised creatures on Other Place. They weren’t violent, but they were rude, dirty and troublesome. Setting bizarre traps was their favorite past time, with this year’s Most Convoluted Trap Award going to a design that catapulted victims into a pile of cow manure.
Will’s thoughts were drawn off his problems when he heard rustling in a patch of bushes. His usual goblin bodyguards that followed him when he went for meals were busy, leaving him on his own. Will froze and reached for his scepter, but his concern was unnecessary. It was just an older man driving an oxcart. The oxcart was loaded with sheaves of wheat, and the ox pulled it slower than Will could walk.
The farmer tipped his hat and smiled. “Morning.”
“Hi,” Will said. The locals were a friendly bunch that sympathized with Will’s predicament. They only dealt with goblins on rare occasions, whereas his hands were constantly full. The men also knew the good things Will had done since coming to Other Place and appreciated his efforts.
The farmer saw Will’s water gourd and smiled. “Say, you mind lending a drink to someone in need?”
“Sure.” Will tried to hand him the gourd, but the farmer shook his head and pointed at the ox.
“Not me! He’s the one doing all the work.”
Will reluctantly put the gourd in front of the ox. The animal lowered its head into the gourd and slurped up the water, even licking out the inside. The farmer said, “Thanks. We’ve had plenty of rain, but it’s still hard keeping the old boy watered. He loses a gallon an hour when it’s this hot.”
“Him and me both,” Will replied. The farmer laughed and left Will to continue to town. It wasn’t far and he should make it before it got much hotter. He could also refill the gourd before heading back to his kingdom.
His kingdom. It sounded impressive, but it wasn’t. Will was originally from Earth before the law firm of Cickam, Wender and Downe tricked him into become King of the Goblins. The only city in the kingdom had been a wreck when Will first saw it, and now was almost entirely destroyed by the goblins themselves. There was no farming or ranching. Once the land had thriving iron mines operated by dwarfs, but that ended ninety years ago when the last speck of ore was dug out. Waste from those mines had devastated the kingdom. And tourism? Ha! Only the desperate came, and they didn’t stay long if they could help it. The Kingdom of the Goblins was dirt poor and would remain so for generations to come.
In spite of this Will had come to see value in the goblins, if not their kingdom. They were stupid and a bit crazy, but he’d seen lots of stupidity on Earth and among the races of Other Place. And goblins had virtues if you looked hard enough. They weren’t cruel, and he’d even seen them take in orphaned children in a city far away. They weren’t greedy, with most showing no interest in money. They weren’t ambitious and didn’t aspire to rule empires and subjugate others. As far as Will was concerned, that put them ahead of a lot of people.
Will saw the town up ahead on the road. It was a pleasant place with a hundred buildings clustered around an inn and blacksmith shop. Will came here for his meals and to spend time with other humans. The town had no name, and for tax reasons pretended it was located in Will’s kingdom. Residents were kind and he returned the favor.
“We meet at last,” a melodious male voice said. Startled, he spun around and grabbed his fire scepter, only to find himself facing a male elf. Will didn’t see any cover the elf could have been hiding behind, and he was sure he hadn’t heard anyone approach. The elf smiled and raised his hands. “I assure you there’s no need for that. I’m quite tame.”
Will lowered his scepter but held onto it. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being jumpy, but lots of people have tried to kill me. Sneaking up on me isn’t nice.”
The elf bowed his head. “My apologies. I should have realized a man with as many enemies as you have wouldn’t like unannounced visitors.”
Will took a moment to study the elf. He was as tall as Will but thinner, and had pointed ears common to the race. His hair was turquoise blue and arranged in an elegant style. The elf’s clothes drew his notice the most, for the stylish silk garments were dyed blue and studded with sapphires easily worth hundreds of gold coins. Tasteful silver rings and a jade and silver armband finished the display.
The elf said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am known as True Eyes, as my full name would take too long to recite. I am an ambassador of King Viliamorous Trathanic, ruler of the elves, the one true heir to the ancient Elf Empire, he whose ancestors defeated the Etherium Empire, he whom all call wise and just, he who—”. The elf noticed Will’s disbelieving expression and stopped. “His full title goes on like that for ten minutes, but you’re a busy man.”
“Okay,” Will began, “I’m assuming you’re here on business, even if I can’t figure out for the life of me what you want.”
“You do yourself a disservice! Few of the lesser races have accomplished what you have. You nearly approach an elf in competence and ability. Winning your war with the human king Kervol Ket was almost enough to draw my King’s attention.”
Will had experience with elves and their overwhelming egos. Elves had near superhuman dexterity and were dangerous in a fight, but their sense of superiority made it hard to deal with them. In ancient days elves had ruled almost all of Other Place, and they believed it should be that way again.
“Indeed, His Majesty was impressed with how you dealt with the Staff of Skulls,” True Eyes continued. “Your defeat of the Eternal Army was equally astounding, although I must say my King felt slighted that you didn’t include him in your endeavor.”
Will had stopped the Eternal Army the previous winter, burying those immortal psychopaths under thousands of tons of rock and dirt. But the job had been too big for him and the goblins, and he’d needed help from Kervol Ket (who’d sort of forgiven him) and King Gate of the trolls.
Not wanting to offend, Will explained, “We were on a tight schedule.”
True Eyes smiled, but there was a hint of insincerity when he spoke. “Yes, there is rarely time to do things properly in emergencies. Moving on, your offensive against the human billionaire Quentin Peck particularly interested my King. That rascal was deeply involved with the Yelinid Banking Cartel, renegade elves who don’t recognize his authority and supremacy. It saddened the King to learn that their poor judgment allowed Peck to discomfort you.”
“Discomfort me?” Will asked. “He tried to kill me!”
“Yet you stand before me looking quite healthy,” True Eyes noted. “Your accomplishments are all the greater considering the limited resources and low quality manpower you had. Few have matched your deeds, and none using goblins.”
While Will recognized his friends’ limitations, he didn’t like people disrespecting them. Gritting his teeth, he said, “They can do a lot when you give them a chance.”
True Eyes took a silver tube from his belt and removed a scroll from it. “So it seems. My King sees it as his duty to support the few leaders among the lesser races who prove themselves worthy. He sent me to arrange a formal declaration of friendship between our kingdoms. Such an offer would include financial assistance, diplomatic support, land development and the services of elf wizards, widely held to be the greatest of all races in their mastery of magic.”
Will took the scroll from True Eyes and unrolled it. On the face of it the offer was tempting. Will had been in trouble often since becoming King of the Goblins, and the list of people he could count on for help was a short one. Still, he was suspicious and wanted to read the declaration in detail. The long vellum scroll was covered in fanciful decorations and gold leaf along the borders, but what concerned him most was that it was written entirely in elven.
“We have a slight problem here,” Will told the elf. He pointed at writing that was both beautiful and incomprehensible. “I can’t read a word of this.”
“I see your concern,” True Eyes said. “I beg your forgiveness. Human kings of this world learn written and spoken elven at an early age, a sign of respect for our culture. But you are no more from this world than the kings who ruled here before you. My humblest apologies, but this is not the impediment you think.”
Will handed the scroll back. “I’m kind of wary about legally binding papers, especially ones I can’t read.”
True Eyes put an arm around Will’s shoulders and smiled like a used car salesman trying to reel in a customer. “Allow me to correct this oversight. I would be only too happy to translate the declaration for you.”
That didn’t sound much better. Will didn’t trust the elf to give an honest translation, but if he signed it he’d be trapped into following the contract whether he understood it or not. Thinking fast, he said, “That won’t be necessary. I have a magic mirror that reads elven just fine. Her name is Gladys, and I’m sure she’d be tickled pink to help.”
True Eyes tried to steer Will off the road and into town. “Ah, but could she understand the intricacies of diplomatic terminology, and the subtitles of courtly language? I take it from the early hour that you are on your way to breakfast? I would be delighted to translate the declaration while you dine. You would have a complete understanding of it within the hour regardless of the language barrier.”
“You swine!” someone behind them screamed. Will and True Eyes turned to see another elf marching down the road toward them. This elf, another male, was as well dressed as True Eyes, but the fashion was different. His clothes were dyed royal purple, and he favored gold and ruby jewelry. His expression set him apart as well, for his face was beet red and he wore a look of outrage. “You gutter filth, conniving, treacherous oaf!”
Will rubbed his eyes. “I hate starting the day like this.”
“Sir, my insults were not meant for you,” the new elf declared. He bowed and said, “My name is Perfect Strike when I don’t have five minutes for the full and correct version, but the elf beside you should be called mud!”
True Eyes scowled. “I fail to see what business a lesser elf like you has here.”
“Lesser?” Perfect Strike bellowed.
“Pay him no mind,” True Eyes told Will. “He is descended from traitors who deserted the Elf King. They are little more than bandits.”
“Lies!” Perfect Strike yelled. He was drawing attention from farmers, but he ignored them. Pointing an accusing finger at True Eyes, he replied. “The so called ‘Elf King’ is a tyrant sprung from a line of tyrants, and has no right to his throne. His poor rule drove off my ancestors and hundreds of others to start anew in distant lands. We formed the Versile Consortium, and are respected merchants and makers of fine goods.”
“Go count your money, peddler,” True Eyes retorted.
Will tried to slip away. “You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll leave you to it.”
Perfect Strike marched up to Will and said, “Listen to him not! He seeks to draw you in with lies and trick you into becoming his King’s slave.”
“Partner!” True Eyes retorted. “He would be a partner and trusted ally.”
“I just want some breakfast,” Will said.
“You lie, ‘Cross Eyed’!” Perfect Strike retorted. He took Will’s arm and said, “You can’t trust him. He knew I was coming with a proposed alliance between you and the Versile Consortium, and he sabotaged my mission! I intended to bring a trusted human servant of my family and assign her to your service as proof of our good intent. Instead he forced her onto a ship going out to sea! We’ve no idea where she is.”
“You mean the floozy you sent to seduce him?” True Eyes replied. “Yes, I put a stop to that!”
More farmers gathered to watch, but the elves seemed blind to it. Perfect Strike snapped, “She’s not a floozy! She’s a beloved family retainer.”
True Eyes leaned in close to Will. “That means she tied his shoes.”
“That does it!” Perfect Strike lived up to his name with a punch that knocked True Eyes to the ground. He jumped and tried to land on his prone enemy, but True Eyes rolled out of the way and shot to his feet. He kicked Perfect Strike hard enough to spin the purple clad elf in a circle. Perfect Strike recovered quickly and landed two lightning fast punches into True Eyes’ stomach, doubling him over.
Will shook his head and walked to the town’s inn. With any luck he could eat breakfast and get out of here while those two were clowning around. Chances were both of them wanted to involve him into some kind of scheme.
The inn was a pleasant place to visit in cold weather since the kitchen generated a lot of heat along with good food. That heat plus the unseasonable weather made conditions inside uncomfortable. The innkeeper had opened all the windows and propped open the door, which helped a little, but the inn’s large common room was still hot.
Will sat down at a table near the door and was soon visited by the innkeeper, a bear of a man with brown grizzled hair and bulging muscles like a weightlifter. The innkeeper nodded to Will and said, “It’s oatmeal and hardboiled eggs today.”
“Thanks.” Will handed the bag of vegetables to the innkeeper. “Here.”
The innkeeper accepted the bag, but said, “I don’t mind the food, but your king contract allows you to eat for free.”
“I know, but it’s not fair that I always come to the same place for the free food. I ought to give something in return, even if it’s turnips.”
The innkeeper left while Will studied his king contract. Will had gotten the infernal document when he was tricked into being King of the Goblins, binding him to both the job and kingdom. The contract was tens of thousands of lines long and written in words so small it was hard to read. He could go home if he found a loophole not covered in its countless lines of fine print.
The problem was there had been 47 other Kings of the Goblins who had escaped their contracts. Every time one got away, Cickam, Wender and Downe made the next contract harder to escape. It didn’t help that the cursed thing was actually growing and adding new clauses to keep him on the job. This included such bizarre terms as Article 105, subsection 2, paragraph 11, line 4: The King of the Goblins can’t escape his job by destroying the kingdom with a giant radioactive monster. We paid him off and he won’t help you.
The innkeeper brought Will his breakfast, a simple but filling meal. Will ate slowly and looked out the windows from time to time to see how the fight was progressing. The two elves were gracefully beating each other senseless. True Eyes leaped over a farmer and tried to kick Perfect Strike, but Perfect Strike grabbed him by the ankles and swung him into a ditch. Between attacks the two shouts at one another in elven. While Will couldn’t speak the language, judging by their tone he was pretty sure they were swearing.
A rancher watching the fight nudged a farmer and said, “A copper piece on the one in blue?”
The farmer grinned. “You’re on.”
Two farmers joined Will at the inn. The first said, “Someone said those two yahoos were fighting over you.”
“Yeah, that’s diplomacy for you,” Will said as he ate.
“We heard there were floozies involved,” the second farmer said.
“Just one, and she couldn’t make it.”
The first farmer patted Will on the shoulder. “Tough break, pal.”
The farmers left to watch the fight, leaving Will alone with his food. He finished the meal and leaned back in his chair.
The innkeeper stayed by the bar and watched Will. “Most times you hurry back after eating. This week you’ve stayed here as long as you can. Pretty sure you’re not here for the ambiance.”
“You have a nice place,” Will told him, then looked down. “I’m not in a rush to get back. You see the goblins are having a civil war.”
“It’s over cheese, right?”
Surprised, Will sat up straight. “How did you know?”
“It’s happened before,” the innkeeper replied. “I’ve seen it two, three times. Can’t blame you for wanting to stay out of it.”
“I can’t get them to stop,” Will said. “Most of the time they at least try to follow orders, but they’ve broken into factions and are pounding away at each other with sofa cushions and pillows. I’d be appalled if they were actually hurting each other.”
The conversation ended when True Eyes flew screaming through an open window to land on Will’s table. He unrolled the scroll and said, “If I could just point out the benefits detailed on line eight.”
Perfect Strike reached through the window, grabbed True Eyes by the heels and dragged him outside to continue their fight. The innkeeper stomped over and shouted, “I’m trying to run a business here!”
“Many apologies,” True Eyes replied before tossing a gold coin through the window. The innkeeper plucked it out of the air and stuffed it in his pocket before turning his attention back to Will.
“It doesn’t look it, but things are getting better. Goblins haven’t been much trouble since you took over, and most of their mischief is done on people who deserve it. You’ve got a tough row to hoe, no question, but you’ve done well so far and I think you can manage this.”
“Thanks,” Will told him. He left the inn and refilled his gourd at a well before heading back to his kingdom. The elves were still pounding each other, and he’d just as soon be gone before either of them won. The winner might follow him, but probably not into a war zone.
The walk back was uneventful. A tiny white skinned pixie threw pebbles at him, but it left after he swatted it with his hat. The real problems started once he crossed the border.
The kingdom had healed from the damage done so long ago. Intensive mining had once reduced the land to rocks and weeds, but now there were young trees, lush grasses and shrubs growing alongside dirt trails. In some places there were canyons, streams, pools and other attractive features.
There were new additions to the landscape, including muddy trenches, poorly built wood barricades and makeshift wood forts, all built to goblin proportions. Goblins had thrown up these flimsy defenses when the fighting first started, building more each day. Will could step over most of the obstacles, but he had to keep an eye out for traps his followers doubtlessly had set. The sounds of battle weren’t far off.
“Cheddar!” a horde of goblins screamed as they ran out of the woods and headed for the trenches. This bunch wore miniature versions of WW I German infantry uniforms complete with spiked helmet, and they were armed with pillows.
“Gouda!” the defending goblins screamed. They poured out of the forts and manned the trenches. These goblins wore rags and cast off human garments, with throw pillows as their weapon of choice. They included warrior and digger goblins, but since the fighting started they’d shown little interest in their chosen profession and were dedicated to this idiotic conflict. The two factions plowed into one another in a vicious no holds barred pillow war.
Knowing he was going to fail, Will tried for the third time that day to end the war. “Guys, cut it out! Stop fighting!”
The goblins ignored him in their unrelenting desire to defeat their accursed enemies. The fact that they hadn’t been enemies last week was unimportant, or that they weren’t actually doing damage. Goblin fought goblin, and feathers flew as pillows split open.
Will got down in the trenches and pulled two goblins apart. “I’m serious, stop it!”
This time his words had some effect. The goblins separated and looked at him curiously. A cross-eyed goblin with the Gouda faction asked, “Boss, you’re not with these cheddar heads, are you? You said you weren’t taking sides.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Listen, guys, this is pointless.”
“Most of what we do is pointless,” a red skinned goblin replied.
“That’s true,” Will admitted. “But this is really pointless. You guys fought side by side against some the worst threats on Other Place. You should be working together. Think of the amazing things you could be doing instead of fighting.”
A goblin scratched his head and asked, “Did you drink expired milk again?”
“I’m serious! You guys built the biggest maze on the planet. But as long as you’re fighting each other you can’t make it bigger.”
That did it. The goblins loved their maze, a three-story nightmare of blind corners, hidden rooms and traps so devious that the bravest men dared not enter. Invoking it made the goblins look on another with sympathy. They shook hands, and some hugged.
“The King is right,” the cross-eyed goblin said. “We’ve been so busy fighting there’s been no work done of the maze all week. What were we thinking?”
“Gouda and Cheddar should be allies,” the red skinned goblin announced to cheers. “Together we can make the maze even greater than before, once we’ve taken out the Parmesan faction!”
Goblins shouted, “Hurray!”
“No!” Will shouted back, but it was too late. The two hordes of goblins ran off in giddy anticipation of another fight. Will shook his head and headed for the Goblin City.
The name was a lie. There had been a poorly built dwarf city there at one point, and the city walls and tall gatehouse were still standing, but the insides of the city were gone, razed to make room for expanding the maze. A brick strewn wasteland had replaced the ramshackle buildings, and it would stay that way until the goblins ended their idiotic conflict and got back to work.
Once Will entered through the gatehouse, he heard a squeaky voice ask, “Hey, Will, what’s the score?”
“I’m zero for four at stopping the war today, Domo,” Will replied.
Domo was a short goblin with gray skin and ratty black hair. He wore yellow robes and carried a red walking stick made from an enemy flagpole. Domo was a good friend of Will’s and the closest the goblins had ever come to producing their own leader. Normally they wouldn’t follow him, but in emergencies they’d consider it. Domo was smarter than most goblins and could see how stupid their civil war was, and he was content to wait it out on a pile of rubble that used to be a tollbooth.
But he wasn’t alone in the ruined city. Not far away was Vial, leader of the lab rat guild. Vial had short red hair over his entire body and wore a lab coat, pants, shoes and glasses. He looked harmless enough, like a warped version of a university professor, but he was potentially the most dangerous goblin alive.
Vial and his followers were alchemists, which was as close to chemists as the people of Other Place had ever come. His specialty was explosives, although he also made glue, cement, instant webbing and chemically generated light. Like Domo, he was smarter than most goblins, but he was no less crazy. He considered alchemy a sport that required audience participation, and if the audience was accidentally blown up, well, they knew the risks. Vial was getting the hang of alchemy, but on a bad day he was still a threat to everyone around him.
“Ah, My Liege, so good to see you,” Vial said. He waddled over to Will and handed him a paper. “I wish to discuss a matter with you. We both have considerable free time due to this war. Namely, you have no interest in joining and all the factions have refused my help.”
“There’s a first: goblins making an intelligent decision,” Domo quipped.
“I find the choice baffling,” Vial replied. “I could settle this dispute within hours. But their loss is our gain. I have developed plans for a new and most impressive explosive I call Bitter Betty. I’ve worked out most of the design problems—”
Worried, Will asked, “Most?”
“And with just a few ingredients I can produce a working copy,” Vial continued. “The destructive potential is astounding, and should be highly entertaining.”
“I don’t want explosions,” Will replied. “Things are bad enough as it is.”
“This is nothing,” Domo replied. “We’ve had plenty of civil wars before. The guys get to talking about which cheese is best, angry words fly and they break up into factions. It usually lasts a week or so before they lose interest.”
Smiling, Will asked, “So this is going to get better on its own?”
Domo picked dirt from between his toes. “It’s true. The last civil war happened during the rein of King Gideon the Blackmailer and ended in ten days.”
“Do I want to know how he got that nickname?” Will asked.
“He turned back an invading human army by threatening to read out loud love letters from the human king to his mistress,” Vial replied.
“Before that there was a five day civil war during the rein of King Valerie the Irate,” Domo added.
Will turned slowly to look at Domo. “King? Valerie is a girl’s name.”
Domo shrugged. “She made the same point quite often, but she had a king contract, Will, same as you. Her title wasn’t going to change for something as unimportant as gender.”
“Those were confusing times,” Vial admitted.
“We’ll be safe this close to the maze,” Domo told Will. “The guys won’t risk damaging it. The fight should be over across the kingdom in another day or two. The Swiss and Blue Cheese factions defeated the Limburger faction this morning, and the Cheddar faction should beat the Parmesan faction by tonight. Mind you, the Brie faction retreated into the hills and vowed to make revolution, but I figure they’ll forget what they were doing and wander off in a few hours.”
A horde of goblins ran screaming by the city gate on their way to a battle. Will recognized the goblin leading them and called out, “Niff!”
Mr. Niff screeched to a halt and the other goblins piled into him. Once they sorted themselves out, Mr. Niff ran over and smiled at Will. He had blue skin and beady eyes, and he dressed in black. His trademark knife was tucked in his belt in favor of a long cushion. Mr. Niff was a brave goblin ever ready to jump into battle whether or not it was smart (or even necessary) to do so. “Hey, boss. We’re on our way to take on those Colby lovers.”
“I haven’t seen you since this mess started,” Will said. “Which side are you on?”
“You know, we’ve changed sides so many times I’m not sure.” Mr. Niff scratched his head and looked at the goblins following him. “Who are we with today?”
The goblins shouted every possible answer, no two of them the same.
“Gouda!”
“Brie!”
“The King of Spain!”
None of that bothered Mr. Niff in the least. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
Just then ten goblins ran out of the nearby woods. They flung something circular, white and lacy at Mr. Niff and his followers, and the goblins screamed and ran for cover. One goblin was hit and went down, but Mr. Niff pulled off the lacy projectile and dragged the goblin to safety. He shook his fist at the attacking goblins and shouted, “There are rules! No throwing doilies!”
Will watched the goblins run off. Dispirited and more than a little confused, he sat down on the rock pile next to Domo. “This is impossible! The guys have made big improvements and done amazing things, but they go back to being stupid at the drop of a hat. Every time I think I’ve helped them improve they slide back into bad habits.”
“He works a dozen miracles and wants more,” Domo said to Vial.
Vial walked over and patted Will on the hand. “Have no fear. The situation isn’t that bad, and should recover without your intervention. Please note the goblins can’t bother you much while they are involved in this foolishness. If it helps, try to think of this as a vacation.”
Will waved his hands over the brick piles that had once been homes. “It’s not just that. We don’t even have a city anymore! It wasn’t much to begin with and now it’s gone. The tunnels and caves under the city are intact, but the guys didn’t leave one building standing so they could expand the maze. Now they aren’t even doing that.”
“Yes,” Domo said dryly, “all those dirty, ugly, poorly made buildings that haven’t been repaired in decades are gone. Whatever shall we do without them?”
Will opened his mouth for an angry response, but he paused and raised one eyebrow. “When you put it like that I’m not so mad.”
Domo leaned over to Vial and whispered, “He’s just sore because he misses his fairy godmother.”
Vial smiled and nodded. “Ah yes, Miss Lydia Lajcek, our favorite fairy godmother, who Our Liege gave a fortune to and now doesn’t know where to find her. He really should have gotten a receipt for the cash.”
“Don’t go there!” Will warned them. The money didn’t bother him, but he’d been getting along well with Lydia before his contract forcibly separated them. Losing his best chance at love made this situation harder to deal with. Feeling a bit silly, he asked, “Did she, uh—”
“You didn’t get any mail from Lydia today, or this week or this month,” Domo responded. “It’s just the usual death threats, hate mail and catalogs for things you don’t need and can’t afford.”
“I feel the home Spam making kit had potential,” Vial said.
Looking more sympathetic than usual, Domo told him, “I know things are a mess, Will, and your love life being dead on arrival can’t help. I don’t like it any more than you do, and it’s going to stay bad for a long time. Look on the bright side, it can’t get worse.”
“Don’t say that!” Will shouted. “It can always get worse. My life is proof of that. Back home my biggest problem was finding a job. Now half the kingdoms on Other Place want me dead and two groups of elves are fighting over which one gets to manipulate me.”
Both goblins’ mouths dropped in surprise. Domo found his voice first. “Elves want you?”
“Two of them were waiting for me when I went for breakfast,” Will replied.
“It makes sense, in a highly suspect way,” Vial replied. “You won several wars, making you a valuable tool in their court intrigues. The elf faction that makes you their pawn would have significant advantages over their rivals.”
Domo grabbed Will’s hand and cried out, “Tell me you didn’t sign anything!”
“Oh come on! I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb.” Will arranged the debris under him into a more comfortable pile. “I left them going at each other’s throats, but that’s temporary. I figure we should expect more visits in the future. What worries me is what they’ll do when I say no. If they think I’m a useful pawn, they might see me as a threat if I’m not on their side.”
“Sort of yes and sort of no,” Domo replied. “Elves don’t see anyone from other races as a threat no matter how powerful or successful they are, but they do see you as a useful tool. If they can’t have you they might kill you so other elf factions can’t have you.”
“There’s another problem to worry about,” Will said. “Some days it’s two steps forward and one step back. It doesn’t help that I don’t know about a lot of these problems until they come up, like that business with the elves or this civil war. I can only guess what’s next.”
**********
A thousand miles away, Thaddeus Macmillan sailed the open ocean in his boat, joined by his three grown sons, his cousin and nephew. They gathered around their nets in dismay. It was hot and they were tired from hours of work, but that’s not what bothered them. They’d been fishing for days in what should have been rich waters. The pickings were slim, and the things they caught barely qualified as fish. Every catch had been miserable, and today’s haul was the worst yet.
Thaddeus bent down and plucked a fish from the net. Holding it up, he stared at its large white eyes and gapping mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Brushing gray hair from his brow, Thaddeus declared, “That’s a new one on me.”
His nephew sniffed the fish and wrinkled his nose. “Smells awful. Uncle, I don’t think we can eat it.”
“We can’t,” Thaddeus said, and he looked behind his boat. The wood boat was thirty feet long, half as long as the sea serpents in its wake. A pod of ten of the beasts was following him like a shadow, as they always did when he put out to sea. There was an age-old rule that fishing boats throw overboard any part of their catch they didn’t want. Sea serpents ate the waste, and in return protected the boats from other predators. This trip they’d gotten more than half the catch.
“We can’t go home with so little,” one of his sons said.
“I know,” Thaddeus replied. “You boys put out the net. Maybe we’ll have better luck this time.”
Thaddeus was about to toss the disgusting fish overboard when he saw two smaller sea serpents swimming up to the boat. They were only six feet long, but in their own way were more dangerous than their parents. He grimaced and said, “Brace yourselves, boys. Their young ones are coming.”
Thaddeus’ cousin rolled his eyes. “I can deal with them trying to steal the catch, but I can’t take the puns!”
The two sea serpents came up to the boat and lifted up their heads. They had large eyes and pale blue scales, with short fins on the tops of their heads. One said in a child-like voice, “Whatcha doing?”
“Fishing,” Thaddeus told the young sea serpent. “You two go back to your pa.”
The second sea serpent tried to grab one of the few cod they’d caught. Thaddeus’ nephew pushed it back gently with an oar. “That’ll be enough of that.”
“I like cod,” the second one said innocently.
“So do we,” Thaddeus retorted.
The first sea serpent smiled and asked, “Hey, what do you call paint made from the hooves of a boar that liked candy?”
Thaddeus resigned himself to the inevitably bad punch line. “I don’t know.”
“Pig-mint.”
The entire crew groaned in agony. Thaddeus turned to the youngster and asked, “What does your pa do when you tell him puns like that?”
“He tells me to talk to you,” the sea serpent said cheerfully.
Thaddeus bit back a sharp reply and tossed the ugly fish to the sea serpent. “Make yourself useful and ask your pa if he’s ever seen a fish like this.”
The youngster took the fish in his mouth and they both left. They swam back to the pod and passed the fish to a sea serpent sixty feet long and five feet wide. The adult spoke and gulped the fish down before sending the young ones back.
“Pa said you only find fish like that very deep,” the first youngster reported. “He doesn’t know how it got in your net.”
“And he told you to give me a cod,” the second added.
Indigent, the first sea serpent said, “He did not, you big liar!”
“I want a cod!”
There was a splash behind them. Thaddeus saw the entire pod of sea serpents slap their tails on the water, a distress call among their kind. They looked scared, but that was impossible. There were five adults in the pod, any one of them a threat to the largest shark. Even a kraken wouldn’t attack a pod that big! The adults slapped the water again and scattered. The largest adult looked at the boat and bellowed, “Flee!”
The two youngsters swam off in a panic, leaving Thaddeus wondering what was going on. He saw no danger in the sky or the water, but anything that scared an entire pod of sea serpents was a threat whether he could see it or not.
“Take in the net!” he ordered. “Once it’s in we’re off at full sail.”
His sons went for the net while Thaddeus took the wheel. He watched the water for this unseen threat. The waves grew in height, but nothing worse.
“Pa!” his oldest son shouted. “The net won’t budge. Something’s caught in it.”
That was all the warning they got. The net went taut and the boat was dragged forward so hard everyone was thrown to the deck. In seconds the boat was pulled eighty feet. Water splashed over the railing and the few fish they had slid across the deck. For a moment the boat stopped moving, but then it shot forward another eighty feet.
“Cut the net loose!” Thaddeus shouted. “For the love of God, cut the net!”
His youngest son pulled himself along the railing until he reached the spot where the net was tied to the boat. He grabbed an ax off the deck, nearly missing it as it slid by. The boat came to another stop, giving him a chance to stand up and swing the ax with all his might.
Thunk! The ax cut through the thick net and into the deck. The boat came to a halt while the net was dragged beneath the waves. Thaddeus struggled to his feet and helped up his nephew.
“Pa, what happened?” his eldest son asked. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Thaddeus said numbly. He rubbed his head where he’d hit the deck, trying hard to think. It took him a moment to realize what it was, what it had to be, and terror shook him to his core. “Get us to full sail! We have to get home fast, while there’s still a home to go back to!”
Will walked down a muddy road running through fields and light forests, and for the millionth time he wished that someone on the world of Other Place had invented antiperspirant. Deodorant would be nice, too. He’d come up with a long list of things someone should have been clever enough to come up with, and antiperspirant was on the top.
Will was a young man with brown hair and gray eyes, and reasonably fit. His clothes included black pants, a green shirt, a cape that was black on the outside and green on the inside, a black hat with a green ribbon in the brim, and black boots. Normally his outfit included a black vest and black gloves with green fingers, but he’d left these at home because of the heat. In addition to a bronze fire scepter and bag of vegetables he’d grown in a small garden, he carried a hollow gourd filled with water. The gourd held almost a gallon, and although it was still morning, Will could drink it by afternoon.
In theory it was October, although you’d never guess it. There were no cool days and chilly nights in a gentle lead in to winter. Summer was being a very poor sport about the whole ‘changing of the seasons’ business, and August’s heat had never left. Mornings started warm and muggy, with afternoons hot enough to fry an egg and so humid it felt like he was swimming instead of walking. Sweat plastered Will’s clothes to his body.
Will left the Kingdom of the Goblins and headed for the nearest human town. Partly that was to get food, but there was another reason. He needed time away from his friends and followers, and this was the only way to get it.
His goblin followers were short, stupid and a bit crazy, and no two looked alike. Their skin color, height and weight varied astonishingly. Many had exaggerated features, such as large eyes or ears, big feet or arms longer than normal. Some even had stunted wings or an extra arm. Goblins were one of the most despised creatures on Other Place. They weren’t violent, but they were rude, dirty and troublesome. Setting bizarre traps was their favorite past time, with this year’s Most Convoluted Trap Award going to a design that catapulted victims into a pile of cow manure.
Will’s thoughts were drawn off his problems when he heard rustling in a patch of bushes. His usual goblin bodyguards that followed him when he went for meals were busy, leaving him on his own. Will froze and reached for his scepter, but his concern was unnecessary. It was just an older man driving an oxcart. The oxcart was loaded with sheaves of wheat, and the ox pulled it slower than Will could walk.
The farmer tipped his hat and smiled. “Morning.”
“Hi,” Will said. The locals were a friendly bunch that sympathized with Will’s predicament. They only dealt with goblins on rare occasions, whereas his hands were constantly full. The men also knew the good things Will had done since coming to Other Place and appreciated his efforts.
The farmer saw Will’s water gourd and smiled. “Say, you mind lending a drink to someone in need?”
“Sure.” Will tried to hand him the gourd, but the farmer shook his head and pointed at the ox.
“Not me! He’s the one doing all the work.”
Will reluctantly put the gourd in front of the ox. The animal lowered its head into the gourd and slurped up the water, even licking out the inside. The farmer said, “Thanks. We’ve had plenty of rain, but it’s still hard keeping the old boy watered. He loses a gallon an hour when it’s this hot.”
“Him and me both,” Will replied. The farmer laughed and left Will to continue to town. It wasn’t far and he should make it before it got much hotter. He could also refill the gourd before heading back to his kingdom.
His kingdom. It sounded impressive, but it wasn’t. Will was originally from Earth before the law firm of Cickam, Wender and Downe tricked him into become King of the Goblins. The only city in the kingdom had been a wreck when Will first saw it, and now was almost entirely destroyed by the goblins themselves. There was no farming or ranching. Once the land had thriving iron mines operated by dwarfs, but that ended ninety years ago when the last speck of ore was dug out. Waste from those mines had devastated the kingdom. And tourism? Ha! Only the desperate came, and they didn’t stay long if they could help it. The Kingdom of the Goblins was dirt poor and would remain so for generations to come.
In spite of this Will had come to see value in the goblins, if not their kingdom. They were stupid and a bit crazy, but he’d seen lots of stupidity on Earth and among the races of Other Place. And goblins had virtues if you looked hard enough. They weren’t cruel, and he’d even seen them take in orphaned children in a city far away. They weren’t greedy, with most showing no interest in money. They weren’t ambitious and didn’t aspire to rule empires and subjugate others. As far as Will was concerned, that put them ahead of a lot of people.
Will saw the town up ahead on the road. It was a pleasant place with a hundred buildings clustered around an inn and blacksmith shop. Will came here for his meals and to spend time with other humans. The town had no name, and for tax reasons pretended it was located in Will’s kingdom. Residents were kind and he returned the favor.
“We meet at last,” a melodious male voice said. Startled, he spun around and grabbed his fire scepter, only to find himself facing a male elf. Will didn’t see any cover the elf could have been hiding behind, and he was sure he hadn’t heard anyone approach. The elf smiled and raised his hands. “I assure you there’s no need for that. I’m quite tame.”
Will lowered his scepter but held onto it. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being jumpy, but lots of people have tried to kill me. Sneaking up on me isn’t nice.”
The elf bowed his head. “My apologies. I should have realized a man with as many enemies as you have wouldn’t like unannounced visitors.”
Will took a moment to study the elf. He was as tall as Will but thinner, and had pointed ears common to the race. His hair was turquoise blue and arranged in an elegant style. The elf’s clothes drew his notice the most, for the stylish silk garments were dyed blue and studded with sapphires easily worth hundreds of gold coins. Tasteful silver rings and a jade and silver armband finished the display.
The elf said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am known as True Eyes, as my full name would take too long to recite. I am an ambassador of King Viliamorous Trathanic, ruler of the elves, the one true heir to the ancient Elf Empire, he whose ancestors defeated the Etherium Empire, he whom all call wise and just, he who—”. The elf noticed Will’s disbelieving expression and stopped. “His full title goes on like that for ten minutes, but you’re a busy man.”
“Okay,” Will began, “I’m assuming you’re here on business, even if I can’t figure out for the life of me what you want.”
“You do yourself a disservice! Few of the lesser races have accomplished what you have. You nearly approach an elf in competence and ability. Winning your war with the human king Kervol Ket was almost enough to draw my King’s attention.”
Will had experience with elves and their overwhelming egos. Elves had near superhuman dexterity and were dangerous in a fight, but their sense of superiority made it hard to deal with them. In ancient days elves had ruled almost all of Other Place, and they believed it should be that way again.
“Indeed, His Majesty was impressed with how you dealt with the Staff of Skulls,” True Eyes continued. “Your defeat of the Eternal Army was equally astounding, although I must say my King felt slighted that you didn’t include him in your endeavor.”
Will had stopped the Eternal Army the previous winter, burying those immortal psychopaths under thousands of tons of rock and dirt. But the job had been too big for him and the goblins, and he’d needed help from Kervol Ket (who’d sort of forgiven him) and King Gate of the trolls.
Not wanting to offend, Will explained, “We were on a tight schedule.”
True Eyes smiled, but there was a hint of insincerity when he spoke. “Yes, there is rarely time to do things properly in emergencies. Moving on, your offensive against the human billionaire Quentin Peck particularly interested my King. That rascal was deeply involved with the Yelinid Banking Cartel, renegade elves who don’t recognize his authority and supremacy. It saddened the King to learn that their poor judgment allowed Peck to discomfort you.”
“Discomfort me?” Will asked. “He tried to kill me!”
“Yet you stand before me looking quite healthy,” True Eyes noted. “Your accomplishments are all the greater considering the limited resources and low quality manpower you had. Few have matched your deeds, and none using goblins.”
While Will recognized his friends’ limitations, he didn’t like people disrespecting them. Gritting his teeth, he said, “They can do a lot when you give them a chance.”
True Eyes took a silver tube from his belt and removed a scroll from it. “So it seems. My King sees it as his duty to support the few leaders among the lesser races who prove themselves worthy. He sent me to arrange a formal declaration of friendship between our kingdoms. Such an offer would include financial assistance, diplomatic support, land development and the services of elf wizards, widely held to be the greatest of all races in their mastery of magic.”
Will took the scroll from True Eyes and unrolled it. On the face of it the offer was tempting. Will had been in trouble often since becoming King of the Goblins, and the list of people he could count on for help was a short one. Still, he was suspicious and wanted to read the declaration in detail. The long vellum scroll was covered in fanciful decorations and gold leaf along the borders, but what concerned him most was that it was written entirely in elven.
“We have a slight problem here,” Will told the elf. He pointed at writing that was both beautiful and incomprehensible. “I can’t read a word of this.”
“I see your concern,” True Eyes said. “I beg your forgiveness. Human kings of this world learn written and spoken elven at an early age, a sign of respect for our culture. But you are no more from this world than the kings who ruled here before you. My humblest apologies, but this is not the impediment you think.”
Will handed the scroll back. “I’m kind of wary about legally binding papers, especially ones I can’t read.”
True Eyes put an arm around Will’s shoulders and smiled like a used car salesman trying to reel in a customer. “Allow me to correct this oversight. I would be only too happy to translate the declaration for you.”
That didn’t sound much better. Will didn’t trust the elf to give an honest translation, but if he signed it he’d be trapped into following the contract whether he understood it or not. Thinking fast, he said, “That won’t be necessary. I have a magic mirror that reads elven just fine. Her name is Gladys, and I’m sure she’d be tickled pink to help.”
True Eyes tried to steer Will off the road and into town. “Ah, but could she understand the intricacies of diplomatic terminology, and the subtitles of courtly language? I take it from the early hour that you are on your way to breakfast? I would be delighted to translate the declaration while you dine. You would have a complete understanding of it within the hour regardless of the language barrier.”
“You swine!” someone behind them screamed. Will and True Eyes turned to see another elf marching down the road toward them. This elf, another male, was as well dressed as True Eyes, but the fashion was different. His clothes were dyed royal purple, and he favored gold and ruby jewelry. His expression set him apart as well, for his face was beet red and he wore a look of outrage. “You gutter filth, conniving, treacherous oaf!”
Will rubbed his eyes. “I hate starting the day like this.”
“Sir, my insults were not meant for you,” the new elf declared. He bowed and said, “My name is Perfect Strike when I don’t have five minutes for the full and correct version, but the elf beside you should be called mud!”
True Eyes scowled. “I fail to see what business a lesser elf like you has here.”
“Lesser?” Perfect Strike bellowed.
“Pay him no mind,” True Eyes told Will. “He is descended from traitors who deserted the Elf King. They are little more than bandits.”
“Lies!” Perfect Strike yelled. He was drawing attention from farmers, but he ignored them. Pointing an accusing finger at True Eyes, he replied. “The so called ‘Elf King’ is a tyrant sprung from a line of tyrants, and has no right to his throne. His poor rule drove off my ancestors and hundreds of others to start anew in distant lands. We formed the Versile Consortium, and are respected merchants and makers of fine goods.”
“Go count your money, peddler,” True Eyes retorted.
Will tried to slip away. “You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll leave you to it.”
Perfect Strike marched up to Will and said, “Listen to him not! He seeks to draw you in with lies and trick you into becoming his King’s slave.”
“Partner!” True Eyes retorted. “He would be a partner and trusted ally.”
“I just want some breakfast,” Will said.
“You lie, ‘Cross Eyed’!” Perfect Strike retorted. He took Will’s arm and said, “You can’t trust him. He knew I was coming with a proposed alliance between you and the Versile Consortium, and he sabotaged my mission! I intended to bring a trusted human servant of my family and assign her to your service as proof of our good intent. Instead he forced her onto a ship going out to sea! We’ve no idea where she is.”
“You mean the floozy you sent to seduce him?” True Eyes replied. “Yes, I put a stop to that!”
More farmers gathered to watch, but the elves seemed blind to it. Perfect Strike snapped, “She’s not a floozy! She’s a beloved family retainer.”
True Eyes leaned in close to Will. “That means she tied his shoes.”
“That does it!” Perfect Strike lived up to his name with a punch that knocked True Eyes to the ground. He jumped and tried to land on his prone enemy, but True Eyes rolled out of the way and shot to his feet. He kicked Perfect Strike hard enough to spin the purple clad elf in a circle. Perfect Strike recovered quickly and landed two lightning fast punches into True Eyes’ stomach, doubling him over.
Will shook his head and walked to the town’s inn. With any luck he could eat breakfast and get out of here while those two were clowning around. Chances were both of them wanted to involve him into some kind of scheme.
The inn was a pleasant place to visit in cold weather since the kitchen generated a lot of heat along with good food. That heat plus the unseasonable weather made conditions inside uncomfortable. The innkeeper had opened all the windows and propped open the door, which helped a little, but the inn’s large common room was still hot.
Will sat down at a table near the door and was soon visited by the innkeeper, a bear of a man with brown grizzled hair and bulging muscles like a weightlifter. The innkeeper nodded to Will and said, “It’s oatmeal and hardboiled eggs today.”
“Thanks.” Will handed the bag of vegetables to the innkeeper. “Here.”
The innkeeper accepted the bag, but said, “I don’t mind the food, but your king contract allows you to eat for free.”
“I know, but it’s not fair that I always come to the same place for the free food. I ought to give something in return, even if it’s turnips.”
The innkeeper left while Will studied his king contract. Will had gotten the infernal document when he was tricked into being King of the Goblins, binding him to both the job and kingdom. The contract was tens of thousands of lines long and written in words so small it was hard to read. He could go home if he found a loophole not covered in its countless lines of fine print.
The problem was there had been 47 other Kings of the Goblins who had escaped their contracts. Every time one got away, Cickam, Wender and Downe made the next contract harder to escape. It didn’t help that the cursed thing was actually growing and adding new clauses to keep him on the job. This included such bizarre terms as Article 105, subsection 2, paragraph 11, line 4: The King of the Goblins can’t escape his job by destroying the kingdom with a giant radioactive monster. We paid him off and he won’t help you.
The innkeeper brought Will his breakfast, a simple but filling meal. Will ate slowly and looked out the windows from time to time to see how the fight was progressing. The two elves were gracefully beating each other senseless. True Eyes leaped over a farmer and tried to kick Perfect Strike, but Perfect Strike grabbed him by the ankles and swung him into a ditch. Between attacks the two shouts at one another in elven. While Will couldn’t speak the language, judging by their tone he was pretty sure they were swearing.
A rancher watching the fight nudged a farmer and said, “A copper piece on the one in blue?”
The farmer grinned. “You’re on.”
Two farmers joined Will at the inn. The first said, “Someone said those two yahoos were fighting over you.”
“Yeah, that’s diplomacy for you,” Will said as he ate.
“We heard there were floozies involved,” the second farmer said.
“Just one, and she couldn’t make it.”
The first farmer patted Will on the shoulder. “Tough break, pal.”
The farmers left to watch the fight, leaving Will alone with his food. He finished the meal and leaned back in his chair.
The innkeeper stayed by the bar and watched Will. “Most times you hurry back after eating. This week you’ve stayed here as long as you can. Pretty sure you’re not here for the ambiance.”
“You have a nice place,” Will told him, then looked down. “I’m not in a rush to get back. You see the goblins are having a civil war.”
“It’s over cheese, right?”
Surprised, Will sat up straight. “How did you know?”
“It’s happened before,” the innkeeper replied. “I’ve seen it two, three times. Can’t blame you for wanting to stay out of it.”
“I can’t get them to stop,” Will said. “Most of the time they at least try to follow orders, but they’ve broken into factions and are pounding away at each other with sofa cushions and pillows. I’d be appalled if they were actually hurting each other.”
The conversation ended when True Eyes flew screaming through an open window to land on Will’s table. He unrolled the scroll and said, “If I could just point out the benefits detailed on line eight.”
Perfect Strike reached through the window, grabbed True Eyes by the heels and dragged him outside to continue their fight. The innkeeper stomped over and shouted, “I’m trying to run a business here!”
“Many apologies,” True Eyes replied before tossing a gold coin through the window. The innkeeper plucked it out of the air and stuffed it in his pocket before turning his attention back to Will.
“It doesn’t look it, but things are getting better. Goblins haven’t been much trouble since you took over, and most of their mischief is done on people who deserve it. You’ve got a tough row to hoe, no question, but you’ve done well so far and I think you can manage this.”
“Thanks,” Will told him. He left the inn and refilled his gourd at a well before heading back to his kingdom. The elves were still pounding each other, and he’d just as soon be gone before either of them won. The winner might follow him, but probably not into a war zone.
The walk back was uneventful. A tiny white skinned pixie threw pebbles at him, but it left after he swatted it with his hat. The real problems started once he crossed the border.
The kingdom had healed from the damage done so long ago. Intensive mining had once reduced the land to rocks and weeds, but now there were young trees, lush grasses and shrubs growing alongside dirt trails. In some places there were canyons, streams, pools and other attractive features.
There were new additions to the landscape, including muddy trenches, poorly built wood barricades and makeshift wood forts, all built to goblin proportions. Goblins had thrown up these flimsy defenses when the fighting first started, building more each day. Will could step over most of the obstacles, but he had to keep an eye out for traps his followers doubtlessly had set. The sounds of battle weren’t far off.
“Cheddar!” a horde of goblins screamed as they ran out of the woods and headed for the trenches. This bunch wore miniature versions of WW I German infantry uniforms complete with spiked helmet, and they were armed with pillows.
“Gouda!” the defending goblins screamed. They poured out of the forts and manned the trenches. These goblins wore rags and cast off human garments, with throw pillows as their weapon of choice. They included warrior and digger goblins, but since the fighting started they’d shown little interest in their chosen profession and were dedicated to this idiotic conflict. The two factions plowed into one another in a vicious no holds barred pillow war.
Knowing he was going to fail, Will tried for the third time that day to end the war. “Guys, cut it out! Stop fighting!”
The goblins ignored him in their unrelenting desire to defeat their accursed enemies. The fact that they hadn’t been enemies last week was unimportant, or that they weren’t actually doing damage. Goblin fought goblin, and feathers flew as pillows split open.
Will got down in the trenches and pulled two goblins apart. “I’m serious, stop it!”
This time his words had some effect. The goblins separated and looked at him curiously. A cross-eyed goblin with the Gouda faction asked, “Boss, you’re not with these cheddar heads, are you? You said you weren’t taking sides.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Listen, guys, this is pointless.”
“Most of what we do is pointless,” a red skinned goblin replied.
“That’s true,” Will admitted. “But this is really pointless. You guys fought side by side against some the worst threats on Other Place. You should be working together. Think of the amazing things you could be doing instead of fighting.”
A goblin scratched his head and asked, “Did you drink expired milk again?”
“I’m serious! You guys built the biggest maze on the planet. But as long as you’re fighting each other you can’t make it bigger.”
That did it. The goblins loved their maze, a three-story nightmare of blind corners, hidden rooms and traps so devious that the bravest men dared not enter. Invoking it made the goblins look on another with sympathy. They shook hands, and some hugged.
“The King is right,” the cross-eyed goblin said. “We’ve been so busy fighting there’s been no work done of the maze all week. What were we thinking?”
“Gouda and Cheddar should be allies,” the red skinned goblin announced to cheers. “Together we can make the maze even greater than before, once we’ve taken out the Parmesan faction!”
Goblins shouted, “Hurray!”
“No!” Will shouted back, but it was too late. The two hordes of goblins ran off in giddy anticipation of another fight. Will shook his head and headed for the Goblin City.
The name was a lie. There had been a poorly built dwarf city there at one point, and the city walls and tall gatehouse were still standing, but the insides of the city were gone, razed to make room for expanding the maze. A brick strewn wasteland had replaced the ramshackle buildings, and it would stay that way until the goblins ended their idiotic conflict and got back to work.
Once Will entered through the gatehouse, he heard a squeaky voice ask, “Hey, Will, what’s the score?”
“I’m zero for four at stopping the war today, Domo,” Will replied.
Domo was a short goblin with gray skin and ratty black hair. He wore yellow robes and carried a red walking stick made from an enemy flagpole. Domo was a good friend of Will’s and the closest the goblins had ever come to producing their own leader. Normally they wouldn’t follow him, but in emergencies they’d consider it. Domo was smarter than most goblins and could see how stupid their civil war was, and he was content to wait it out on a pile of rubble that used to be a tollbooth.
But he wasn’t alone in the ruined city. Not far away was Vial, leader of the lab rat guild. Vial had short red hair over his entire body and wore a lab coat, pants, shoes and glasses. He looked harmless enough, like a warped version of a university professor, but he was potentially the most dangerous goblin alive.
Vial and his followers were alchemists, which was as close to chemists as the people of Other Place had ever come. His specialty was explosives, although he also made glue, cement, instant webbing and chemically generated light. Like Domo, he was smarter than most goblins, but he was no less crazy. He considered alchemy a sport that required audience participation, and if the audience was accidentally blown up, well, they knew the risks. Vial was getting the hang of alchemy, but on a bad day he was still a threat to everyone around him.
“Ah, My Liege, so good to see you,” Vial said. He waddled over to Will and handed him a paper. “I wish to discuss a matter with you. We both have considerable free time due to this war. Namely, you have no interest in joining and all the factions have refused my help.”
“There’s a first: goblins making an intelligent decision,” Domo quipped.
“I find the choice baffling,” Vial replied. “I could settle this dispute within hours. But their loss is our gain. I have developed plans for a new and most impressive explosive I call Bitter Betty. I’ve worked out most of the design problems—”
Worried, Will asked, “Most?”
“And with just a few ingredients I can produce a working copy,” Vial continued. “The destructive potential is astounding, and should be highly entertaining.”
“I don’t want explosions,” Will replied. “Things are bad enough as it is.”
“This is nothing,” Domo replied. “We’ve had plenty of civil wars before. The guys get to talking about which cheese is best, angry words fly and they break up into factions. It usually lasts a week or so before they lose interest.”
Smiling, Will asked, “So this is going to get better on its own?”
Domo picked dirt from between his toes. “It’s true. The last civil war happened during the rein of King Gideon the Blackmailer and ended in ten days.”
“Do I want to know how he got that nickname?” Will asked.
“He turned back an invading human army by threatening to read out loud love letters from the human king to his mistress,” Vial replied.
“Before that there was a five day civil war during the rein of King Valerie the Irate,” Domo added.
Will turned slowly to look at Domo. “King? Valerie is a girl’s name.”
Domo shrugged. “She made the same point quite often, but she had a king contract, Will, same as you. Her title wasn’t going to change for something as unimportant as gender.”
“Those were confusing times,” Vial admitted.
“We’ll be safe this close to the maze,” Domo told Will. “The guys won’t risk damaging it. The fight should be over across the kingdom in another day or two. The Swiss and Blue Cheese factions defeated the Limburger faction this morning, and the Cheddar faction should beat the Parmesan faction by tonight. Mind you, the Brie faction retreated into the hills and vowed to make revolution, but I figure they’ll forget what they were doing and wander off in a few hours.”
A horde of goblins ran screaming by the city gate on their way to a battle. Will recognized the goblin leading them and called out, “Niff!”
Mr. Niff screeched to a halt and the other goblins piled into him. Once they sorted themselves out, Mr. Niff ran over and smiled at Will. He had blue skin and beady eyes, and he dressed in black. His trademark knife was tucked in his belt in favor of a long cushion. Mr. Niff was a brave goblin ever ready to jump into battle whether or not it was smart (or even necessary) to do so. “Hey, boss. We’re on our way to take on those Colby lovers.”
“I haven’t seen you since this mess started,” Will said. “Which side are you on?”
“You know, we’ve changed sides so many times I’m not sure.” Mr. Niff scratched his head and looked at the goblins following him. “Who are we with today?”
The goblins shouted every possible answer, no two of them the same.
“Gouda!”
“Brie!”
“The King of Spain!”
None of that bothered Mr. Niff in the least. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
Just then ten goblins ran out of the nearby woods. They flung something circular, white and lacy at Mr. Niff and his followers, and the goblins screamed and ran for cover. One goblin was hit and went down, but Mr. Niff pulled off the lacy projectile and dragged the goblin to safety. He shook his fist at the attacking goblins and shouted, “There are rules! No throwing doilies!”
Will watched the goblins run off. Dispirited and more than a little confused, he sat down on the rock pile next to Domo. “This is impossible! The guys have made big improvements and done amazing things, but they go back to being stupid at the drop of a hat. Every time I think I’ve helped them improve they slide back into bad habits.”
“He works a dozen miracles and wants more,” Domo said to Vial.
Vial walked over and patted Will on the hand. “Have no fear. The situation isn’t that bad, and should recover without your intervention. Please note the goblins can’t bother you much while they are involved in this foolishness. If it helps, try to think of this as a vacation.”
Will waved his hands over the brick piles that had once been homes. “It’s not just that. We don’t even have a city anymore! It wasn’t much to begin with and now it’s gone. The tunnels and caves under the city are intact, but the guys didn’t leave one building standing so they could expand the maze. Now they aren’t even doing that.”
“Yes,” Domo said dryly, “all those dirty, ugly, poorly made buildings that haven’t been repaired in decades are gone. Whatever shall we do without them?”
Will opened his mouth for an angry response, but he paused and raised one eyebrow. “When you put it like that I’m not so mad.”
Domo leaned over to Vial and whispered, “He’s just sore because he misses his fairy godmother.”
Vial smiled and nodded. “Ah yes, Miss Lydia Lajcek, our favorite fairy godmother, who Our Liege gave a fortune to and now doesn’t know where to find her. He really should have gotten a receipt for the cash.”
“Don’t go there!” Will warned them. The money didn’t bother him, but he’d been getting along well with Lydia before his contract forcibly separated them. Losing his best chance at love made this situation harder to deal with. Feeling a bit silly, he asked, “Did she, uh—”
“You didn’t get any mail from Lydia today, or this week or this month,” Domo responded. “It’s just the usual death threats, hate mail and catalogs for things you don’t need and can’t afford.”
“I feel the home Spam making kit had potential,” Vial said.
Looking more sympathetic than usual, Domo told him, “I know things are a mess, Will, and your love life being dead on arrival can’t help. I don’t like it any more than you do, and it’s going to stay bad for a long time. Look on the bright side, it can’t get worse.”
“Don’t say that!” Will shouted. “It can always get worse. My life is proof of that. Back home my biggest problem was finding a job. Now half the kingdoms on Other Place want me dead and two groups of elves are fighting over which one gets to manipulate me.”
Both goblins’ mouths dropped in surprise. Domo found his voice first. “Elves want you?”
“Two of them were waiting for me when I went for breakfast,” Will replied.
“It makes sense, in a highly suspect way,” Vial replied. “You won several wars, making you a valuable tool in their court intrigues. The elf faction that makes you their pawn would have significant advantages over their rivals.”
Domo grabbed Will’s hand and cried out, “Tell me you didn’t sign anything!”
“Oh come on! I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb.” Will arranged the debris under him into a more comfortable pile. “I left them going at each other’s throats, but that’s temporary. I figure we should expect more visits in the future. What worries me is what they’ll do when I say no. If they think I’m a useful pawn, they might see me as a threat if I’m not on their side.”
“Sort of yes and sort of no,” Domo replied. “Elves don’t see anyone from other races as a threat no matter how powerful or successful they are, but they do see you as a useful tool. If they can’t have you they might kill you so other elf factions can’t have you.”
“There’s another problem to worry about,” Will said. “Some days it’s two steps forward and one step back. It doesn’t help that I don’t know about a lot of these problems until they come up, like that business with the elves or this civil war. I can only guess what’s next.”
**********
A thousand miles away, Thaddeus Macmillan sailed the open ocean in his boat, joined by his three grown sons, his cousin and nephew. They gathered around their nets in dismay. It was hot and they were tired from hours of work, but that’s not what bothered them. They’d been fishing for days in what should have been rich waters. The pickings were slim, and the things they caught barely qualified as fish. Every catch had been miserable, and today’s haul was the worst yet.
Thaddeus bent down and plucked a fish from the net. Holding it up, he stared at its large white eyes and gapping mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Brushing gray hair from his brow, Thaddeus declared, “That’s a new one on me.”
His nephew sniffed the fish and wrinkled his nose. “Smells awful. Uncle, I don’t think we can eat it.”
“We can’t,” Thaddeus said, and he looked behind his boat. The wood boat was thirty feet long, half as long as the sea serpents in its wake. A pod of ten of the beasts was following him like a shadow, as they always did when he put out to sea. There was an age-old rule that fishing boats throw overboard any part of their catch they didn’t want. Sea serpents ate the waste, and in return protected the boats from other predators. This trip they’d gotten more than half the catch.
“We can’t go home with so little,” one of his sons said.
“I know,” Thaddeus replied. “You boys put out the net. Maybe we’ll have better luck this time.”
Thaddeus was about to toss the disgusting fish overboard when he saw two smaller sea serpents swimming up to the boat. They were only six feet long, but in their own way were more dangerous than their parents. He grimaced and said, “Brace yourselves, boys. Their young ones are coming.”
Thaddeus’ cousin rolled his eyes. “I can deal with them trying to steal the catch, but I can’t take the puns!”
The two sea serpents came up to the boat and lifted up their heads. They had large eyes and pale blue scales, with short fins on the tops of their heads. One said in a child-like voice, “Whatcha doing?”
“Fishing,” Thaddeus told the young sea serpent. “You two go back to your pa.”
The second sea serpent tried to grab one of the few cod they’d caught. Thaddeus’ nephew pushed it back gently with an oar. “That’ll be enough of that.”
“I like cod,” the second one said innocently.
“So do we,” Thaddeus retorted.
The first sea serpent smiled and asked, “Hey, what do you call paint made from the hooves of a boar that liked candy?”
Thaddeus resigned himself to the inevitably bad punch line. “I don’t know.”
“Pig-mint.”
The entire crew groaned in agony. Thaddeus turned to the youngster and asked, “What does your pa do when you tell him puns like that?”
“He tells me to talk to you,” the sea serpent said cheerfully.
Thaddeus bit back a sharp reply and tossed the ugly fish to the sea serpent. “Make yourself useful and ask your pa if he’s ever seen a fish like this.”
The youngster took the fish in his mouth and they both left. They swam back to the pod and passed the fish to a sea serpent sixty feet long and five feet wide. The adult spoke and gulped the fish down before sending the young ones back.
“Pa said you only find fish like that very deep,” the first youngster reported. “He doesn’t know how it got in your net.”
“And he told you to give me a cod,” the second added.
Indigent, the first sea serpent said, “He did not, you big liar!”
“I want a cod!”
There was a splash behind them. Thaddeus saw the entire pod of sea serpents slap their tails on the water, a distress call among their kind. They looked scared, but that was impossible. There were five adults in the pod, any one of them a threat to the largest shark. Even a kraken wouldn’t attack a pod that big! The adults slapped the water again and scattered. The largest adult looked at the boat and bellowed, “Flee!”
The two youngsters swam off in a panic, leaving Thaddeus wondering what was going on. He saw no danger in the sky or the water, but anything that scared an entire pod of sea serpents was a threat whether he could see it or not.
“Take in the net!” he ordered. “Once it’s in we’re off at full sail.”
His sons went for the net while Thaddeus took the wheel. He watched the water for this unseen threat. The waves grew in height, but nothing worse.
“Pa!” his oldest son shouted. “The net won’t budge. Something’s caught in it.”
That was all the warning they got. The net went taut and the boat was dragged forward so hard everyone was thrown to the deck. In seconds the boat was pulled eighty feet. Water splashed over the railing and the few fish they had slid across the deck. For a moment the boat stopped moving, but then it shot forward another eighty feet.
“Cut the net loose!” Thaddeus shouted. “For the love of God, cut the net!”
His youngest son pulled himself along the railing until he reached the spot where the net was tied to the boat. He grabbed an ax off the deck, nearly missing it as it slid by. The boat came to another stop, giving him a chance to stand up and swing the ax with all his might.
Thunk! The ax cut through the thick net and into the deck. The boat came to a halt while the net was dragged beneath the waves. Thaddeus struggled to his feet and helped up his nephew.
“Pa, what happened?” his eldest son asked. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Thaddeus said numbly. He rubbed his head where he’d hit the deck, trying hard to think. It took him a moment to realize what it was, what it had to be, and terror shook him to his core. “Get us to full sail! We have to get home fast, while there’s still a home to go back to!”
May 17, 2019
Pseudonym part 2
“That…shouldn’t…have happened,” the witch gasped.
“Make it stop!” Maya cried out.
“Seriously, stop!” Dana yelled at the witch. “You’ve healed him enough. Keeping him here hurts you and us. You’re not even getting the secrets you want.”
Tears rolled down Maya’s cheeks. “These are just memories from a dead child.”
Suddenly Dana gasped and looked horrified. “Maya, what if they’re not?”
Witch Way crawled to the table and pulled herself up to her knees. “What do you mean?”
“What if the spell worked?” Dana asked. “I’ve heard stories about Jayden the same as everyone, and they all date from ten years ago to today. Nobody knows where he came from. He just appeared in the kingdom years ago, no family, no friends. And Prince Mastram has been gone for a long time.”
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Jayden had told her months ago that he’d once been known by another name. Goblins in Fish Bait City said Jayden had come there as a boy, part of a royal expedition. Jayden had known the interior of Baron Scalamonger’s mansion. Prince Mastram in the visions had also been studying the sorcerer lords, which would explain how Jayden could translate their spell tablets.
All three women stared at Jayden. Witch Way was the first to speak when she said, “I am going to get into so much trouble over this.”
“We have to get him out of here before he wakes up,” Dana said. “He’ll kill you if he figures out what you’ve done.”
“There’s no ‘if’ to it,” Witch Way said. “When I view memories from my clients they don’t just remember them, they experience them as if they were happening again. He just relived the worst parts of his life.”
“I don’t see this ending well,” Maya said.
Witch Way grabbed Jayden by the shoulders and tried to lift him. “My spells are linked to the heart stone in my house. Taking him outside will break the connection. Ooh, he’s heavier than he looks, all muscle by the feel of it. Come on, help me move him.”
“We can’t!” Maya cried out.
“We’re still tied up!” Dana yelled.
Witch Way looked at them, a puzzled expression on her face as she said, “I’m not making good decisions today. Wait, do you feel tha—”
******************
The cold air matched Mastram’s mood. No longer a prince, he was a criminal dressed in sackcloth, his black hair a mess as a strong wind blew in his face. The longboat he was on rose and fell on the rough sea, the overcast sky adding to the sense of woe. Eight sailors manned the oars and an equal number of soldiers stood guard in case someone tried to rescue him. There had been three attempts in the two months since Mastram was declared illegitimate, one by peasants, another by renegade soldiers and the third by harpies, all three failures. These soldiers were here if others should try.
They’d been at sea for eight day traveling to the Isle of Tears. Mastram had no idea where it was, as the isle appeared on no maps and was shielded from magical attempts to locate it. They’d passed several small, rocky islands, some inhabited and others not, and a strange black pyramid that moved through the water faster than the longboat. Still they traveled, sailing far from the coast and any chance of escape.
Hours later they reached their destination. Mastram wondered why the island was used only for executions, for it looked large enough to house many people. The shorelines were rocky and inhospitable, and there were few trees or plants, but he knew ways even such foreboding land could be made productive. Deeper inland were mountains with narrow ridges that jutted up like the bones of a dead monster. The only sign that anyone had ever lived here were brick piers reaching into the icy waters of a natural harbor.
As the longboat neared the harbor, Mastram saw a soldier draw a dagger. His officer saw it, too, and shouted, “Sheath that blade!”
“It’s a mercy compared to what we’re doing to him,” the soldier protested.
“It is the king and queen’s command, and you will obey!” the officer snapped. “Touch so much as a hair on his head and I’ll leave you here in his place.”
The longboat docked at a pier without further incident, and soldiers placed Mastram ashore. The officer stood up and unrolled a scroll. “By order of the king and his beloved queen, Mastram, pretender to the throne is thus banished to the Isle of Tears without chance of pardon or commutation of his sentence. Any who attempt to remove him from this place or offer him aid is guilty of treason and will be put to death. Here you shall remain forever.”
Without further adieu the longboat departed, leaving Mastram alone. It didn’t bother him. He’d been alone for years in a castle packed with people. This desolate island made his solitude more complete, nothing more.
He wondered briefly what to do. No one knew how long condemned men lived on the Isle of Tears, only that when boats brought new victims there was no sign of those who’d come before them. Would he last a day? A week? A month? Mastram had to wonder which would be better. Any thought of giving up soon vanished, though, for he would not give his enemies the pleasure of surrendering. If death came for him, he would fight it.
Surviving the night would be the first challenge. Cold could kill faster than thirst or hunger, so he needed shelter from the coming night. Mastram searched the shore for buildings or even ruins. The brick piers were proof that someone once lived here. Sadly they were the only evidence. Maybe powerful winter storms had swept the isle clean.
With no help at hand, he headed further inland. The ground was rocky and had little plant life, none of it edible. There were no trails leading from the piers, forcing him to pick his way between large stones. Here and there patches of soil supported tough grasses. Ahead he saw caves in the side of a rocky cliff. Most were far too high to reach, but one was low enough he could climb to it. With no other options available that would be home.
Mastram climbed up to the low cave and crawled inside. The roof was surprisingly high and the floor more even than he’d expected. He’d visited a few caves in the past and found them awkward and cramped. In comparison this was spacious. He traveled deeper into the cave to a spot that still received light from outside but was out of the wind. Mastram cleared away sand and small stones from the ground. He didn’t have to dig far before he hit a perfectly flat floor.
“This is surprising,” Mastram said to no one. “Hmm. I wonder if talking to yourself is proof you’re going mad. I hope not. I’ve been here less than an hour.”
Mastram cleared away more stones and sand. The floor extended in all directions and was as flat as a board. He reached the side of the cave and found larger piles of debris. Clearing that took more time, but the reward was worth the effort when he found the floor and cave wall met in a ninety-degree angle. He dug at the edge of the opposite wall and found the floor and wall met the same way.
It was a mystery that had to wait. Mastram mounded up debris around the cave entrance to further block the wind. It was a poor shelter but should keep out the worst of the weather. Wind began to whip around him, carrying sand that stung his face. That hurt, but it inspired him. He dug around the edges of the cave and found four corners.
“This isn’t a cave,” he said. “It’s a room. I didn’t see it before because so much sand has been blown in that it obscured the edges.”
He checked the back of the room and found a passage leading out. There was less sand here, and to his surprise there was light from holes in the roof. He followed the passage until he came to more rooms. Some were filled with debris while others were nearly empty.
He looked for clues who had built this place. Finding paper or velum was out of the question when both would rot in the damp air, but maybe there were bits of furniture or rusted tools. A clever person could determine much about a man by studying the junk he left behind. That had been one of Mr. Wintry’s stranger lessons, but his tutor had showed Mastram how scraps of armor, broken pots and other garbage people cast aside said a lot about them.
In this case it said nothing. There was no broken furniture or metal goods. He found bits of broken pottery barely larger than sand grains. Mastram frowned and rubbed his chin.
“Storms must have blown in water that rotted perishables, and the wind and sand ground down whatever survived the water. That would take decades or more. Whoever built this mansion died long ago. Strange that no one moved in.”
Further study turned up more mysteries. The walls were thick, some made of brick and others natural stone carved into rooms and passages. Building this mansion would have been hard work, and construction materials must have been imported. Yet in the end the effort had been wasted, for the thick brick walls were pierced in multiple places, and rooms dug from the rocky isle were broken into as well. Indeed, most of the rooms he found had holes in them, some as large as a man. The mansion’s fall had been violent and thorough.
Mastram found his despondency momentarily gone, replaced by curiosity. He’d always asked why and dug deeper when faced with a puzzle. Back home he’d spent endless hours finding answers to Kipling’s riddles with the dedication of a dog chewing a bone to reach the marrow. Questions were personal challenges to him, a test of his wits and perseverance. A prince never gave up.
That thought nearly made him stop, the memory of what he had been and what he’d lost stinging, but he pressed on. Princes didn’t give up. They didn’t stop when the odds were bad and enemies numerous. By law he was no prince, but he’d show his enemies and his father. A man could live here if he knew what he was doing and didn’t give in to despair, and that was what Mastram intended to do. Morning would find him alive, as would next week, next month and next year.
Mastram’s exploration turned up a stone staircase leading up. He followed it, slipping briefly on debris covering the steps before safely reached the top floor. It looked like he wouldn’t be visiting the place often, for much of the roof was gone, leaving it open to the sky. There were bits of walls rising from the wreckage, and what looked like empty sea bird nests. Mastram wondered if the birds only came here to breed or if previous prisoners of the isle had eaten them all.
Not far from the stairs were the ruins of a large room with a stone throne at the outside edge. Mastram studied it and found worn down letters cut into the throne. He rubbed away sand filling the words and smiled when he recognized the language.
“This is the writing of the sorcerer lords,” Mastram said. “That’s the owner’s name, his rank and ancestors. This was the home of Jayden The Fell Hand of Doom. I read about him. He was one of the powerful sorcerer lords. Hmm, not powerful enough to save himself from his enemies.”
Mastram cleaned off the throne and sat on it. “I guess this happens to all dynasties in the end. They grow strong and expand their influence, but in time fall and are replaced by others. It nearly happened to my family.”
The room had plentiful signs of battle, like fallen stone columns, jagged holes cut through thick walls and lots of black granite chips. That was interesting. The sorcerer lords had written their spells on granite tablets instead of paper. He poked through the rubble, finding a few larger pieces of granite but none that fit together.
Then he saw it. He’d missed it at first, nearly buried by sand and broken bricks, but behind the throne was an intact spell tablet. The edges were worn down, the white marble lettering was chipped, but it was legible. Mastram’s heart beat faster at the sight. Spell tablets were rare! Few were ever found, and those disappeared into private collections. This treasure could have been found ages ago if someone had bothered searching the isle. How many riches were here, waiting for a man with the patience to dig them out?
What if he could use the tablet? It was a fascinating question. Mr. Wintry had taught Mastram much, including a love of languages, but the prince hadn’t learned magic. Mastram could read the tablet and understood it, but the writing paused frequently and was replaced by small diagrams showing what looked like hand gestures.
“It says aklamasan morashal rathan,” Mastram translated. “Then it says the exact same words twenty more times. The hand gestures change each time you say it.”
It was an interesting puzzle, and with nothing else to do he tried solving it. His first try failed, as did the second, the fifth and the fiftieth. Daylight was fading and he should find a place to sleep, but the prince was tenacious. The problem seemed to be the hand gestures. He could make the silly looking patterns with his fingers, but how long was he supposed to maintain them?
Night approached and he was still trying. He sat on the throne using the last of the light coming through the sundered roof to try one last time when he felt a jolt go from his elbows to his fingers. The spell had worked! Unfortunately it only made a tiny spark that drifted away.
“That was anticlimactic,” Mastram said as he watched the spark float across the room. “Maybe this is a spell for beginners. It might explain why no one took the tablet.”
Boom!
The spark expanded into a massive fireball that engulfed half the room. Mastram screamed and fell off the throne, then scrambled behind it. The flames died away, doing little damage to the already destroyed room. His heart beat so hard he thought it might explode. He’d nearly killed himself!
“Very dangerous business, magic,” he gasped. “Not sure I should try again.”
He headed for the staircase, traveling only a few feet when he saw filthy creatures with long hair and dressed in rags come boiling up from the stairs. Mastram fled the stinking mob until he had his back to the stone throne. He didn’t try using the spell he’d just learned, lest it burn him and these foul creatures.
“We saw you make a fire,” one of the creatures croaked. “Please, can you do it again?”
“We’re so cold,” pleaded another.
Mastram hesitated, trying to tell who or what he was facing. He was afraid, but the unruly mob didn’t come closer. He approached the nearest one and asked, “Who are you?”
“Baronet Silas Fieldcrest,” the filthy figure said. Mastram was close enough to touch the poor person when he realized the claim was true. He’d assumed these were monsters coming after him, but they were men wearing dirty and torn sackcloth, their hair long and tangled, their beards caked in filth. More members of the ragged mob introduced themselves. Knights, earls, lord mayors, sheriffs, guild masters and more stood before him, sixteen in all.
“Forgive our appearances,” Fieldcrest apologized. “We were left here weeks ago, and I fear we’re lesser men for our time spent on the isle. Tell us, stranger, who are you?”
One of the men exclaimed, “Even in the darkness you should know your prince!”
Men cried out in horror. Many bowed their heads. Mastram said, “I am prince no more. My family disowned me.”
Fieldcrest stared at Mastram before dropping to his knees. “Then all is lost. Before my exile I asked my sister to seek you out and beg you to intercede on my behalf. Many of us did. We’d heard you were the kindest member of the royal family and might take pity on us. If you’re here then not only are we doomed but so is the entire kingdom, for no one else listens to petitions for mercy.”
“I didn’t know others had been sent here, much less so many,” Mastram admitted. “What were you accused of?”
“Treason, larceny, failure to uphold the law,” Fieldcrest replied. “The charge laid against us varies, but behind each one is the fact that we had what others wanted. Land, money, livestock, positions of authority, all coveted by those who had royal favor.”
Another man grasped Mastram by the hand. “The queen’s family and the king’s new favorites demand compensation. They gave much to the crown during the civil war and said we did little. We defended our good names and wouldn’t give up our homes, our livelihoods, so it was taken from us.”
Fire burned inside Mastram as great as the magic he’d so recently summoned. He demanded, “When did this happen?”
“This year,” Fieldcrest told him. “Royal officials travel the land removing those who the king doubts and installing his favorites in their place. Trials are quick and secret, guilt guaranteed and punishment swift. I’d heard it happened to another nobleman only days before the same fate befell me.”
Mastram gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Kipling was wrong, for his father had proven to be terrible at balancing the demands placed upon him. What his father had excelled at was hiding the evidence of his wrongdoing if no word of this had reached the prince. The loss of so many friends and familiar faces at court made more sense now. The newcomers had reason to help hide this injustice, and might have benefited from it, for their jobs had once gone to other men.
Fieldcrest got up and placed a hand on Mastram’s shoulder. “We must go. The Isle of Tears is a place of execution in more ways than the king knows, for two predators roam the isle. There are passages they can’t fit in, refuge from their attacks.”
Overhead the clouds parted to reveal a full moon that bathed Mastram and his fellow victims in welcome light, just enough to see the two monstrosities sneaking up on them. Men screamed and scattered as the nightmarish pair shambled toward them. To his horror, Mastram knew exactly what they were, for his studies under Mr. Wintry included the sorcerer lords who once called this land home.
These were estate guards, abominations built by the long dead sorcerer lords. Each one had a golden scarab attached to the pile of driftwood and bones that comprised their bodies. They had the form of men, but twisted, malformed things with long dragging arms. Under the light of the moon Mastram recognized where the bones in those horrible monsters had come from. Some were from seals, others sharks, and some were from men.
“Run!” Fieldcrest shouted.
Mastram held his ground as the wretch things approached. Estate guards were only as strong as the bone and wood they could find to make their bodies from, and these were poor specimens with brittle bones and half rotted wood. They shuffled toward him, making sure they were between their prey and the stairs leading to safety.
“You face an enemy worthy of you,” Mastram said, a warning the beasts ignored. He chanted the words he’d learned from the tablet, weaving strange symbols in the air with his hands as his foes raised their twisted arms to attack. He finished the spell when they were still fifty feet away, sending a tiny spark toward the pair. One recognized the spell and ran to the left while the other took the blast head on. Boom! When the flames died away the first monster was gone and the second had lost both legs.
Mastram marched toward his enemy while the other men watched in awe. The first estate guard was dead, its scarab melted in the fire, while the second tried to drag itself away. Mastram grabbed a large broken brick off the floor and swung it at the estate guard. Brittle bones snapped. Narrow branches of driftwood broke. The estate guard tried to block his swings and failed.
Men joined him with large stones they seized off the floor. They surrounded the beast, pounding it from all sides, breaking it to pieces and pulling it apart. The gold scarab tried to flee, but Mastram saw it run. He struck it with the brick, snapping off three of its gold legs, taking off another leg with the next blow and finally crushing it to pieces.
Mastram screamed in defiance. Fear, shame, doubt, these burned away as rage swelled in him, hatred greater than any he had ever known. The suffering he’d experienced was nothing compared to what was happening elsewhere in the kingdom. His father and stepmother had inflicted inexcusable crimes on their own people, and it was going to stop even if he had to—
************************
Witch Way was on the floor, both hands covering her face. Maya cried and Dana stared at Jayden.
“Please, stop,” Maya pleaded.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Witch Way mumbled and rose to her knees.
“Do it faster,” Maya begged. “Look at him, he’s in agony.”
Jayden was still asleep but not at peace. He clenched his fists and his muscles tensed. His lips pulled back in a snarl as he ground his teeth together.
“That’s not pain,” Dana corrected her. Months traveling with Jayden had given her insight into his moods. “That’s rage.”
Witch Way’s terror grew as she backed up to her heart stone. “Son of a—”
************************
Clams and fish. It was a boring diet, but enough to keep men alive. Mastram wouldn’t let his fellow prisoners die, demanding they go on in the face of what had seemed impossible to endure weeks ago. They stayed strong because they had hope. They had a sorcerer lord.
The ruins yielded further treasures now that they were safe to explore. No doubt most of the riches had been stolen when the original owner had been killed. Still, they found gold and a few weapons, and Baronet Fieldcrest discovered another spell tablet. Mastering it had taken time, a commodity Mastram had in abundance.
Safe, fed after a fashion and armed, they had only to wait. Patience was a virtue Mastram was finding hard these days. He yearned to save his people, and it galled him how long he’d have to wait to do so. Even with two spells he was weak. Once he was free he’d need to find more spell tablets, more gold, more of everything, for overthrowing a king was a task many tried and most failed. It would take decades, but he would do it. He would pay back his father and stepmother for the crimes they’d committed.
The wait was intolerable, but not eternal. After long weeks they saw the longboat approach the Isle of Tears with more victims of the king and queen. There were only four soldiers this time. Perhaps these prisoners weren’t so important that men would risk their lives to free them.
Baronet Fieldcrest came up alongside Mastram where he and the other prisoners hid near the piers. The prisoners were dirty and thin, but they’d found daggers in their search of the ruins and had used them to shave. “Careful, prince. We need the boat intact.”
“Never fear, friend,” Mastram replied. The longboat was large enough for them all to escape. Once they reached land the prisoners would scatter, going to friends and family, gather them up and leave the kingdom.
“You’re sure you won’t come with us, prince?” Fieldcrest asked. “I know of distant lands where you could live unknown to all.”
“It’s a generous offer, but I can’t accept.”
The longboat came to the pier and stopped. The same officer who’d brought Mastram to the isle stood up and unrolled a scroll. “By order of the king and his beloved queen, Tallet Mistrof and Anthony Albreck are thus banished to the Isle of Tears.”
Mastram stood up and approached the longboat. “I would ask a favor, though. Don’t call me prince. Prince Mastram died on these rocks.”
It was overly dramatic, but Mastram knew he couldn’t use his name and escape discovery. He’d adopted the name of his long dead host who had generously provided two spell tablets. Jayden had a nice sound to it, and a historical connection to the old sorcerer lords.
The officer on the longboat stopped reading from his scroll when he saw Jayden approach. A soldier pointed at him and told a sailor, “He’s still alive. You owe me a beer.”
Jayden cast a spell called the entropic lash, forming a black whip that could melt through nearly everything. Sailors manning the oars cried out in terror. Soldiers drew their swords, as if that would help. Jayden savored the opportunity to make them feel the fear they’d inflicted upon so many others before he swung the whip at—
********************
Jayden’s screams echoed through the woods outside Witch Way’s house. He thrashed so hard he fell off the table and landed on the floor before shooting to his feet. Covered in sweat, shaking in uncontrolled rage, he announced, “Someone is going to die!”
“I can explain,” Witch Way said hastily.
Jayden turned toward her. He opened his mouth, but the words died when he saw Dana and Maya tied up against the wall. For a moment he looked surprised, then his rage doubled as he faced Witch Way.
“That’s a little harder to explain,” Witch Way admitted.
Jayden cast a spell and formed his magic whip. Witch Way paled at the sight of it, but only for a moment as her own anger swelled. “You’re feared in many lands, but in this house we’re on equal footing. Make an enemy of me and you won’t leave here alive.”
“You page through my mind like a book, exposing my greatest shames, bind my friends, and now you threaten me? I’ve killed men for less.”
Witch Way snarled a spell that made the drapes and tapestries holding Dana and Maya let go and lash out at Jayden. He swung his whip and wrapped it around the bindings, burning through them before they could touch him. His next swing missed Witch Way’s head by inches.
“Spirits of wind and fire, grant me your power!” Witch Way commanded. “My life is in danger. I’ll pay time and a half, so don’t be stingy!”
“Done,” a high-pitched voice said. The heart stone beat faster than ever, and red light from it poured onto the witch. Under its influence her next spell was far stronger. Tables, chairs, beds, every piece of furniture animated, their wood legs becoming as fast and flexible as a deer’s nimble limbs.
Chairs charged Jayden as he exchanged his whip for a magic sword. He drove the blade through the first chair, which reared up and kicked like a horse as it died. He hacked another animated chair apart, then a third. Jayden’s next spell formed a shield of spinning black daggers. The table he’d been laying on charged him and went headlong into the blades. The shield spell buckled and failed, but not before reducing the table to woodchips.
“That was a gift from my mother!” Witch Way screamed.
“Good,” Jayden growled.
Dana had been in plenty of battles alongside Jayden and knew she had one advantage he didn’t: people ignored her. It was natural when she was a girl and he was a sorcerer lord. Men and monsters focused on the obvious threat and treating her like she was invisible.
She grabbed Maya’s hand and let her to the edge of the room. “Come on.”
Dana and Maya skirted around the battle, dodging broken pieces of furniture that crashed into the walls. Maya shrieked when the witch caused gouts of fire to leap from her fireplace, an attack Jayden avoided by using an animated chair as a shield. The chair cried out like a living creature when it burned.
“Where are we going?” Maya asked.
“Just follow me,” Dana assured her. They went around the fight, keeping down and trying to stay behind cover. Maya shrieked when a shadowy hand as big as a man slammed an animated bed into the wall next to them. The bed braced its back legs against the wall and pushed the hand back. Jayden leaped upon the bed and cut it in half with his sword.
“I’m going to regret this in the morning,” Witch Way said before casting another spell. Shadows lengthened around her before a horrifying red skinned monster rose up from the darkness. It had the shape of a man, but with eyes and gaping toothy maws scattered across its grotesque body. “Sid, I’ve got a job for you, double pay.”
“I can guess what it is,” the monstrosity said from its mouths. It lumbered after Jayden, shoving aside broken furniture to reach him. Jayden met it with sword in hand and a roar of defiance. The monster tried to wrap both arms around him in a bear hug. Jayden ran straight at it, and at the last second brought his giant shadowy hand in from the side to knock the monster over. Once it was on the ground he stood over it and swung his black sword again and again, cutting the monster to pieces that boiled away.
Dana finally reached her target with Maya. The two stood next to the fireplace and the beating stone heart over it. Dana drew her sword and held it high as Witch Way caused iron nails to pop out of her floorboards and rise up in a lethal cloud.
“Retribution spell,” Dana reminded the witch.
Witch Way scowled and let the cloud of nails drop to the floor. A surprised look crossed her face, and she turned and saw Dana and Maya next to her heart stone. Then the witch saw Dana’s sword. She held up both hands and said, “Wait, what are you doing?”
Dana swung her sword at the fireplace to prove its danger. Her sword had damaged an iron golem and had no trouble slicing through the brick fireplace. She then pressed the tip of her sword against the stone heart and said, “Hands in the air, or the rock gets it.”
“No! It took a year to build that thing!”
“Then stop fighting.”
Witch Way pointed at Jayden. “Tell him that!”
Jayden’s shadowy magic hand grabbed Witch Way around the waist and lifted her off her feet. He pointed his sword her and said, “You claim to be my equal within these walls, so let’s take this fight outside.”
Dana had seen Jayden consumed by rage before, a terrifying sight. Getting him to calm down would be difficult. She ran over and grabbed Jayden by the arm.
“Jayden, I know this woman is evil,” Dana began.
“Not helping!” Witch Way shouted.
“But she saved your life. No one else nearby could have helped you. People warned me about her and I brought you anyway. I was desperate and you were dying. What she did was inexcusable, but I’m asking you not to kill her.”
Jayden stared at the witch. He was breathing hard and looked like he was seconds from attacking. Dana needed to do more.
“Maya and I saw your memories along with the witch,” Dana told him. Jayden’s fury was replaced with confusion. He stepped back and lowered his sword. “We know what you went through as a child and why you fight the king and queen. I’m so sorry. You deserved better.”
“Should we bow?” Maya asked. “He is royalty.”
Jayden looked down. “Don’t bow. Don’t kneel. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’ll take contempt over pity, for I’m worthy of scorn.”
“Jayden,” Dana began.
“I failed!” he roared. “I watched my father descend into evil. No one else could have saved him. No one else had the connection to him I did. I didn’t know the words to reach him. Countless villains masquerading as allies badgered him, pulled at him, never letting up for a minute as they tried to make his soul as ugly as their own. They succeeded and I failed, and countless lives have become infinitely worse.”
“I know you’re hurting, but you have friends who can help,” Maya reminded him. “You did then, too, Mr. Wintry and the jester. Um, what happened to them?”
Jayden’s anger was replaced with a depression every bit as great. “I’m told Mr. Wintry passed away three years ago. He waged a campaign of words against the king and queen, telling every man of influence what villains they are. Father and stepmother never understood why their diplomats suffered such hostile receptions in foreign lands. Kipling might still be alive somewhere, an old man by now. The last I’d heard of him, he’d stolen a month’s payroll for the army and fled the kingdom.”
“Why didn’t you go to them for help?” Dana asked him.
“I wanted to. Countless days went by where I yearned for their advice or a friendly voice in dark times, but if anyone saw us together they would guess the truth, meaning death for me and them.”
“Surely the king must know you escaped,” Maya said. “You stole a longboat.”
Jayden shook his head. “Waters around the Isle of Tears are treacherous, and storms are frequent. Losing a small boat there isn’t surprising or cause for concern. Other ships sent to the isle would expect to find only bones rather than men, so our absence wasn’t noticed.”
“Your hair was black in those memories,” Witch Way pointed out.
Jayden saw one of his bags on the floor and took a small bottle from it. “Hair dye. It does more than you’d think to disguise me.”
Witch Way laughed. “The mighty sorcerer lord dyes his hair?”
Dana glared at the witch until she shut up. With the witch silenced, she said, “The king and queen are responsible for their own actions, not you. They had the loyalty and love of good men. They threw that away for followers with dog-like obedience. What happened wasn’t your fault, and nothing you could do would have changed it. You were only a child.”
“I was a prince,” he said bitterly. “And now I’m a dead man. I warned you once that if my true name became known it was a death sentence. The king and queen will send armies after me if they learn I still live. You, Maya and the witch know the truth. I trust you and Maya, but my secret isn’t safe with the witch.”
Dana sheathed her sword and approached Witch Way. “You’re cursed with total honesty. Whatever you say has to be the truth, and you have to keep promises. Promise that you’ll never tell anyone what you’ve learned tonight.”
Witch Way hesitated. Dana pressed her hard, saying, “Do you want this fight to start again? Either he’ll kill you or you’ll kill him, and then his retribution spell will kill you. You’ve already lost much. Don’t add your life to the list.”
The witch heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Prince Mastram, in return for my life I’ll never tell another your secret. Many will know that Sorcerer Lord Jayden came to me for help, so telling clients I saved your life is good advertising. I can’t break this promise even if I tried. Does this satisfy you?”
Jayden dispelled the magic hand holding Witch Way. “Your can keep your life, witch, but what you’ve done demands a response. I won’t harm a hair on your head, but my vengeance shall be brutal.”
Dana and Maya grabbed their things and helped Jayden out of the witch’s house. The fight had taken a lot out of him, and he only went a short distance before sitting down. The sun began to rise, welcome light after such a difficult night.
“I never realized how hurt he was,” Maya said from a safe distance. “Inside, I mean. Imagine having your own family turn against you. I always wondered what it was like to have a father and mother, and his were awful.”
“He’s blaming yourself for everything that’s gone wrong in the kingdom,” Dana said. She’d known that for all Jayden’s bravado he was a mess, but she’d never thought he was so badly damaged. How could she fix this?
Dana had thought they were done with Witch Way, but the witch came near Dana and said, “I’m sorry. You have no idea how rare it is for me to say that. Jayden or I would be dead if not for you. Probably me. I brought it on myself, like all my problems.”
“Your house is ruined,” Maya said sadly.
“My heart stone is all that matters. Those are hard to build, and costly in power and promises.” Sounding more worried than apologetic, Witch Way asked, “About Jayden’s threat. Exactly what did he mean?”
A tiny spark drifted by them and went through the open door of the house. Witch Way’s face turned pale. “He wouldn’t.”
“He would,” Dana said.
Boom! The house exploded in a fireball that destroyed what little had survived the recent battle. Pieces of the heart stone landed nearby and shattered when they hit the ground. High-pitched laughed echoes across the forest as the spirits in the heart stone made their escape.
“He did,” Maya said.
“Make it stop!” Maya cried out.
“Seriously, stop!” Dana yelled at the witch. “You’ve healed him enough. Keeping him here hurts you and us. You’re not even getting the secrets you want.”
Tears rolled down Maya’s cheeks. “These are just memories from a dead child.”
Suddenly Dana gasped and looked horrified. “Maya, what if they’re not?”
Witch Way crawled to the table and pulled herself up to her knees. “What do you mean?”
“What if the spell worked?” Dana asked. “I’ve heard stories about Jayden the same as everyone, and they all date from ten years ago to today. Nobody knows where he came from. He just appeared in the kingdom years ago, no family, no friends. And Prince Mastram has been gone for a long time.”
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Jayden had told her months ago that he’d once been known by another name. Goblins in Fish Bait City said Jayden had come there as a boy, part of a royal expedition. Jayden had known the interior of Baron Scalamonger’s mansion. Prince Mastram in the visions had also been studying the sorcerer lords, which would explain how Jayden could translate their spell tablets.
All three women stared at Jayden. Witch Way was the first to speak when she said, “I am going to get into so much trouble over this.”
“We have to get him out of here before he wakes up,” Dana said. “He’ll kill you if he figures out what you’ve done.”
“There’s no ‘if’ to it,” Witch Way said. “When I view memories from my clients they don’t just remember them, they experience them as if they were happening again. He just relived the worst parts of his life.”
“I don’t see this ending well,” Maya said.
Witch Way grabbed Jayden by the shoulders and tried to lift him. “My spells are linked to the heart stone in my house. Taking him outside will break the connection. Ooh, he’s heavier than he looks, all muscle by the feel of it. Come on, help me move him.”
“We can’t!” Maya cried out.
“We’re still tied up!” Dana yelled.
Witch Way looked at them, a puzzled expression on her face as she said, “I’m not making good decisions today. Wait, do you feel tha—”
******************
The cold air matched Mastram’s mood. No longer a prince, he was a criminal dressed in sackcloth, his black hair a mess as a strong wind blew in his face. The longboat he was on rose and fell on the rough sea, the overcast sky adding to the sense of woe. Eight sailors manned the oars and an equal number of soldiers stood guard in case someone tried to rescue him. There had been three attempts in the two months since Mastram was declared illegitimate, one by peasants, another by renegade soldiers and the third by harpies, all three failures. These soldiers were here if others should try.
They’d been at sea for eight day traveling to the Isle of Tears. Mastram had no idea where it was, as the isle appeared on no maps and was shielded from magical attempts to locate it. They’d passed several small, rocky islands, some inhabited and others not, and a strange black pyramid that moved through the water faster than the longboat. Still they traveled, sailing far from the coast and any chance of escape.
Hours later they reached their destination. Mastram wondered why the island was used only for executions, for it looked large enough to house many people. The shorelines were rocky and inhospitable, and there were few trees or plants, but he knew ways even such foreboding land could be made productive. Deeper inland were mountains with narrow ridges that jutted up like the bones of a dead monster. The only sign that anyone had ever lived here were brick piers reaching into the icy waters of a natural harbor.
As the longboat neared the harbor, Mastram saw a soldier draw a dagger. His officer saw it, too, and shouted, “Sheath that blade!”
“It’s a mercy compared to what we’re doing to him,” the soldier protested.
“It is the king and queen’s command, and you will obey!” the officer snapped. “Touch so much as a hair on his head and I’ll leave you here in his place.”
The longboat docked at a pier without further incident, and soldiers placed Mastram ashore. The officer stood up and unrolled a scroll. “By order of the king and his beloved queen, Mastram, pretender to the throne is thus banished to the Isle of Tears without chance of pardon or commutation of his sentence. Any who attempt to remove him from this place or offer him aid is guilty of treason and will be put to death. Here you shall remain forever.”
Without further adieu the longboat departed, leaving Mastram alone. It didn’t bother him. He’d been alone for years in a castle packed with people. This desolate island made his solitude more complete, nothing more.
He wondered briefly what to do. No one knew how long condemned men lived on the Isle of Tears, only that when boats brought new victims there was no sign of those who’d come before them. Would he last a day? A week? A month? Mastram had to wonder which would be better. Any thought of giving up soon vanished, though, for he would not give his enemies the pleasure of surrendering. If death came for him, he would fight it.
Surviving the night would be the first challenge. Cold could kill faster than thirst or hunger, so he needed shelter from the coming night. Mastram searched the shore for buildings or even ruins. The brick piers were proof that someone once lived here. Sadly they were the only evidence. Maybe powerful winter storms had swept the isle clean.
With no help at hand, he headed further inland. The ground was rocky and had little plant life, none of it edible. There were no trails leading from the piers, forcing him to pick his way between large stones. Here and there patches of soil supported tough grasses. Ahead he saw caves in the side of a rocky cliff. Most were far too high to reach, but one was low enough he could climb to it. With no other options available that would be home.
Mastram climbed up to the low cave and crawled inside. The roof was surprisingly high and the floor more even than he’d expected. He’d visited a few caves in the past and found them awkward and cramped. In comparison this was spacious. He traveled deeper into the cave to a spot that still received light from outside but was out of the wind. Mastram cleared away sand and small stones from the ground. He didn’t have to dig far before he hit a perfectly flat floor.
“This is surprising,” Mastram said to no one. “Hmm. I wonder if talking to yourself is proof you’re going mad. I hope not. I’ve been here less than an hour.”
Mastram cleared away more stones and sand. The floor extended in all directions and was as flat as a board. He reached the side of the cave and found larger piles of debris. Clearing that took more time, but the reward was worth the effort when he found the floor and cave wall met in a ninety-degree angle. He dug at the edge of the opposite wall and found the floor and wall met the same way.
It was a mystery that had to wait. Mastram mounded up debris around the cave entrance to further block the wind. It was a poor shelter but should keep out the worst of the weather. Wind began to whip around him, carrying sand that stung his face. That hurt, but it inspired him. He dug around the edges of the cave and found four corners.
“This isn’t a cave,” he said. “It’s a room. I didn’t see it before because so much sand has been blown in that it obscured the edges.”
He checked the back of the room and found a passage leading out. There was less sand here, and to his surprise there was light from holes in the roof. He followed the passage until he came to more rooms. Some were filled with debris while others were nearly empty.
He looked for clues who had built this place. Finding paper or velum was out of the question when both would rot in the damp air, but maybe there were bits of furniture or rusted tools. A clever person could determine much about a man by studying the junk he left behind. That had been one of Mr. Wintry’s stranger lessons, but his tutor had showed Mastram how scraps of armor, broken pots and other garbage people cast aside said a lot about them.
In this case it said nothing. There was no broken furniture or metal goods. He found bits of broken pottery barely larger than sand grains. Mastram frowned and rubbed his chin.
“Storms must have blown in water that rotted perishables, and the wind and sand ground down whatever survived the water. That would take decades or more. Whoever built this mansion died long ago. Strange that no one moved in.”
Further study turned up more mysteries. The walls were thick, some made of brick and others natural stone carved into rooms and passages. Building this mansion would have been hard work, and construction materials must have been imported. Yet in the end the effort had been wasted, for the thick brick walls were pierced in multiple places, and rooms dug from the rocky isle were broken into as well. Indeed, most of the rooms he found had holes in them, some as large as a man. The mansion’s fall had been violent and thorough.
Mastram found his despondency momentarily gone, replaced by curiosity. He’d always asked why and dug deeper when faced with a puzzle. Back home he’d spent endless hours finding answers to Kipling’s riddles with the dedication of a dog chewing a bone to reach the marrow. Questions were personal challenges to him, a test of his wits and perseverance. A prince never gave up.
That thought nearly made him stop, the memory of what he had been and what he’d lost stinging, but he pressed on. Princes didn’t give up. They didn’t stop when the odds were bad and enemies numerous. By law he was no prince, but he’d show his enemies and his father. A man could live here if he knew what he was doing and didn’t give in to despair, and that was what Mastram intended to do. Morning would find him alive, as would next week, next month and next year.
Mastram’s exploration turned up a stone staircase leading up. He followed it, slipping briefly on debris covering the steps before safely reached the top floor. It looked like he wouldn’t be visiting the place often, for much of the roof was gone, leaving it open to the sky. There were bits of walls rising from the wreckage, and what looked like empty sea bird nests. Mastram wondered if the birds only came here to breed or if previous prisoners of the isle had eaten them all.
Not far from the stairs were the ruins of a large room with a stone throne at the outside edge. Mastram studied it and found worn down letters cut into the throne. He rubbed away sand filling the words and smiled when he recognized the language.
“This is the writing of the sorcerer lords,” Mastram said. “That’s the owner’s name, his rank and ancestors. This was the home of Jayden The Fell Hand of Doom. I read about him. He was one of the powerful sorcerer lords. Hmm, not powerful enough to save himself from his enemies.”
Mastram cleaned off the throne and sat on it. “I guess this happens to all dynasties in the end. They grow strong and expand their influence, but in time fall and are replaced by others. It nearly happened to my family.”
The room had plentiful signs of battle, like fallen stone columns, jagged holes cut through thick walls and lots of black granite chips. That was interesting. The sorcerer lords had written their spells on granite tablets instead of paper. He poked through the rubble, finding a few larger pieces of granite but none that fit together.
Then he saw it. He’d missed it at first, nearly buried by sand and broken bricks, but behind the throne was an intact spell tablet. The edges were worn down, the white marble lettering was chipped, but it was legible. Mastram’s heart beat faster at the sight. Spell tablets were rare! Few were ever found, and those disappeared into private collections. This treasure could have been found ages ago if someone had bothered searching the isle. How many riches were here, waiting for a man with the patience to dig them out?
What if he could use the tablet? It was a fascinating question. Mr. Wintry had taught Mastram much, including a love of languages, but the prince hadn’t learned magic. Mastram could read the tablet and understood it, but the writing paused frequently and was replaced by small diagrams showing what looked like hand gestures.
“It says aklamasan morashal rathan,” Mastram translated. “Then it says the exact same words twenty more times. The hand gestures change each time you say it.”
It was an interesting puzzle, and with nothing else to do he tried solving it. His first try failed, as did the second, the fifth and the fiftieth. Daylight was fading and he should find a place to sleep, but the prince was tenacious. The problem seemed to be the hand gestures. He could make the silly looking patterns with his fingers, but how long was he supposed to maintain them?
Night approached and he was still trying. He sat on the throne using the last of the light coming through the sundered roof to try one last time when he felt a jolt go from his elbows to his fingers. The spell had worked! Unfortunately it only made a tiny spark that drifted away.
“That was anticlimactic,” Mastram said as he watched the spark float across the room. “Maybe this is a spell for beginners. It might explain why no one took the tablet.”
Boom!
The spark expanded into a massive fireball that engulfed half the room. Mastram screamed and fell off the throne, then scrambled behind it. The flames died away, doing little damage to the already destroyed room. His heart beat so hard he thought it might explode. He’d nearly killed himself!
“Very dangerous business, magic,” he gasped. “Not sure I should try again.”
He headed for the staircase, traveling only a few feet when he saw filthy creatures with long hair and dressed in rags come boiling up from the stairs. Mastram fled the stinking mob until he had his back to the stone throne. He didn’t try using the spell he’d just learned, lest it burn him and these foul creatures.
“We saw you make a fire,” one of the creatures croaked. “Please, can you do it again?”
“We’re so cold,” pleaded another.
Mastram hesitated, trying to tell who or what he was facing. He was afraid, but the unruly mob didn’t come closer. He approached the nearest one and asked, “Who are you?”
“Baronet Silas Fieldcrest,” the filthy figure said. Mastram was close enough to touch the poor person when he realized the claim was true. He’d assumed these were monsters coming after him, but they were men wearing dirty and torn sackcloth, their hair long and tangled, their beards caked in filth. More members of the ragged mob introduced themselves. Knights, earls, lord mayors, sheriffs, guild masters and more stood before him, sixteen in all.
“Forgive our appearances,” Fieldcrest apologized. “We were left here weeks ago, and I fear we’re lesser men for our time spent on the isle. Tell us, stranger, who are you?”
One of the men exclaimed, “Even in the darkness you should know your prince!”
Men cried out in horror. Many bowed their heads. Mastram said, “I am prince no more. My family disowned me.”
Fieldcrest stared at Mastram before dropping to his knees. “Then all is lost. Before my exile I asked my sister to seek you out and beg you to intercede on my behalf. Many of us did. We’d heard you were the kindest member of the royal family and might take pity on us. If you’re here then not only are we doomed but so is the entire kingdom, for no one else listens to petitions for mercy.”
“I didn’t know others had been sent here, much less so many,” Mastram admitted. “What were you accused of?”
“Treason, larceny, failure to uphold the law,” Fieldcrest replied. “The charge laid against us varies, but behind each one is the fact that we had what others wanted. Land, money, livestock, positions of authority, all coveted by those who had royal favor.”
Another man grasped Mastram by the hand. “The queen’s family and the king’s new favorites demand compensation. They gave much to the crown during the civil war and said we did little. We defended our good names and wouldn’t give up our homes, our livelihoods, so it was taken from us.”
Fire burned inside Mastram as great as the magic he’d so recently summoned. He demanded, “When did this happen?”
“This year,” Fieldcrest told him. “Royal officials travel the land removing those who the king doubts and installing his favorites in their place. Trials are quick and secret, guilt guaranteed and punishment swift. I’d heard it happened to another nobleman only days before the same fate befell me.”
Mastram gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Kipling was wrong, for his father had proven to be terrible at balancing the demands placed upon him. What his father had excelled at was hiding the evidence of his wrongdoing if no word of this had reached the prince. The loss of so many friends and familiar faces at court made more sense now. The newcomers had reason to help hide this injustice, and might have benefited from it, for their jobs had once gone to other men.
Fieldcrest got up and placed a hand on Mastram’s shoulder. “We must go. The Isle of Tears is a place of execution in more ways than the king knows, for two predators roam the isle. There are passages they can’t fit in, refuge from their attacks.”
Overhead the clouds parted to reveal a full moon that bathed Mastram and his fellow victims in welcome light, just enough to see the two monstrosities sneaking up on them. Men screamed and scattered as the nightmarish pair shambled toward them. To his horror, Mastram knew exactly what they were, for his studies under Mr. Wintry included the sorcerer lords who once called this land home.
These were estate guards, abominations built by the long dead sorcerer lords. Each one had a golden scarab attached to the pile of driftwood and bones that comprised their bodies. They had the form of men, but twisted, malformed things with long dragging arms. Under the light of the moon Mastram recognized where the bones in those horrible monsters had come from. Some were from seals, others sharks, and some were from men.
“Run!” Fieldcrest shouted.
Mastram held his ground as the wretch things approached. Estate guards were only as strong as the bone and wood they could find to make their bodies from, and these were poor specimens with brittle bones and half rotted wood. They shuffled toward him, making sure they were between their prey and the stairs leading to safety.
“You face an enemy worthy of you,” Mastram said, a warning the beasts ignored. He chanted the words he’d learned from the tablet, weaving strange symbols in the air with his hands as his foes raised their twisted arms to attack. He finished the spell when they were still fifty feet away, sending a tiny spark toward the pair. One recognized the spell and ran to the left while the other took the blast head on. Boom! When the flames died away the first monster was gone and the second had lost both legs.
Mastram marched toward his enemy while the other men watched in awe. The first estate guard was dead, its scarab melted in the fire, while the second tried to drag itself away. Mastram grabbed a large broken brick off the floor and swung it at the estate guard. Brittle bones snapped. Narrow branches of driftwood broke. The estate guard tried to block his swings and failed.
Men joined him with large stones they seized off the floor. They surrounded the beast, pounding it from all sides, breaking it to pieces and pulling it apart. The gold scarab tried to flee, but Mastram saw it run. He struck it with the brick, snapping off three of its gold legs, taking off another leg with the next blow and finally crushing it to pieces.
Mastram screamed in defiance. Fear, shame, doubt, these burned away as rage swelled in him, hatred greater than any he had ever known. The suffering he’d experienced was nothing compared to what was happening elsewhere in the kingdom. His father and stepmother had inflicted inexcusable crimes on their own people, and it was going to stop even if he had to—
************************
Witch Way was on the floor, both hands covering her face. Maya cried and Dana stared at Jayden.
“Please, stop,” Maya pleaded.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Witch Way mumbled and rose to her knees.
“Do it faster,” Maya begged. “Look at him, he’s in agony.”
Jayden was still asleep but not at peace. He clenched his fists and his muscles tensed. His lips pulled back in a snarl as he ground his teeth together.
“That’s not pain,” Dana corrected her. Months traveling with Jayden had given her insight into his moods. “That’s rage.”
Witch Way’s terror grew as she backed up to her heart stone. “Son of a—”
************************
Clams and fish. It was a boring diet, but enough to keep men alive. Mastram wouldn’t let his fellow prisoners die, demanding they go on in the face of what had seemed impossible to endure weeks ago. They stayed strong because they had hope. They had a sorcerer lord.
The ruins yielded further treasures now that they were safe to explore. No doubt most of the riches had been stolen when the original owner had been killed. Still, they found gold and a few weapons, and Baronet Fieldcrest discovered another spell tablet. Mastering it had taken time, a commodity Mastram had in abundance.
Safe, fed after a fashion and armed, they had only to wait. Patience was a virtue Mastram was finding hard these days. He yearned to save his people, and it galled him how long he’d have to wait to do so. Even with two spells he was weak. Once he was free he’d need to find more spell tablets, more gold, more of everything, for overthrowing a king was a task many tried and most failed. It would take decades, but he would do it. He would pay back his father and stepmother for the crimes they’d committed.
The wait was intolerable, but not eternal. After long weeks they saw the longboat approach the Isle of Tears with more victims of the king and queen. There were only four soldiers this time. Perhaps these prisoners weren’t so important that men would risk their lives to free them.
Baronet Fieldcrest came up alongside Mastram where he and the other prisoners hid near the piers. The prisoners were dirty and thin, but they’d found daggers in their search of the ruins and had used them to shave. “Careful, prince. We need the boat intact.”
“Never fear, friend,” Mastram replied. The longboat was large enough for them all to escape. Once they reached land the prisoners would scatter, going to friends and family, gather them up and leave the kingdom.
“You’re sure you won’t come with us, prince?” Fieldcrest asked. “I know of distant lands where you could live unknown to all.”
“It’s a generous offer, but I can’t accept.”
The longboat came to the pier and stopped. The same officer who’d brought Mastram to the isle stood up and unrolled a scroll. “By order of the king and his beloved queen, Tallet Mistrof and Anthony Albreck are thus banished to the Isle of Tears.”
Mastram stood up and approached the longboat. “I would ask a favor, though. Don’t call me prince. Prince Mastram died on these rocks.”
It was overly dramatic, but Mastram knew he couldn’t use his name and escape discovery. He’d adopted the name of his long dead host who had generously provided two spell tablets. Jayden had a nice sound to it, and a historical connection to the old sorcerer lords.
The officer on the longboat stopped reading from his scroll when he saw Jayden approach. A soldier pointed at him and told a sailor, “He’s still alive. You owe me a beer.”
Jayden cast a spell called the entropic lash, forming a black whip that could melt through nearly everything. Sailors manning the oars cried out in terror. Soldiers drew their swords, as if that would help. Jayden savored the opportunity to make them feel the fear they’d inflicted upon so many others before he swung the whip at—
********************
Jayden’s screams echoed through the woods outside Witch Way’s house. He thrashed so hard he fell off the table and landed on the floor before shooting to his feet. Covered in sweat, shaking in uncontrolled rage, he announced, “Someone is going to die!”
“I can explain,” Witch Way said hastily.
Jayden turned toward her. He opened his mouth, but the words died when he saw Dana and Maya tied up against the wall. For a moment he looked surprised, then his rage doubled as he faced Witch Way.
“That’s a little harder to explain,” Witch Way admitted.
Jayden cast a spell and formed his magic whip. Witch Way paled at the sight of it, but only for a moment as her own anger swelled. “You’re feared in many lands, but in this house we’re on equal footing. Make an enemy of me and you won’t leave here alive.”
“You page through my mind like a book, exposing my greatest shames, bind my friends, and now you threaten me? I’ve killed men for less.”
Witch Way snarled a spell that made the drapes and tapestries holding Dana and Maya let go and lash out at Jayden. He swung his whip and wrapped it around the bindings, burning through them before they could touch him. His next swing missed Witch Way’s head by inches.
“Spirits of wind and fire, grant me your power!” Witch Way commanded. “My life is in danger. I’ll pay time and a half, so don’t be stingy!”
“Done,” a high-pitched voice said. The heart stone beat faster than ever, and red light from it poured onto the witch. Under its influence her next spell was far stronger. Tables, chairs, beds, every piece of furniture animated, their wood legs becoming as fast and flexible as a deer’s nimble limbs.
Chairs charged Jayden as he exchanged his whip for a magic sword. He drove the blade through the first chair, which reared up and kicked like a horse as it died. He hacked another animated chair apart, then a third. Jayden’s next spell formed a shield of spinning black daggers. The table he’d been laying on charged him and went headlong into the blades. The shield spell buckled and failed, but not before reducing the table to woodchips.
“That was a gift from my mother!” Witch Way screamed.
“Good,” Jayden growled.
Dana had been in plenty of battles alongside Jayden and knew she had one advantage he didn’t: people ignored her. It was natural when she was a girl and he was a sorcerer lord. Men and monsters focused on the obvious threat and treating her like she was invisible.
She grabbed Maya’s hand and let her to the edge of the room. “Come on.”
Dana and Maya skirted around the battle, dodging broken pieces of furniture that crashed into the walls. Maya shrieked when the witch caused gouts of fire to leap from her fireplace, an attack Jayden avoided by using an animated chair as a shield. The chair cried out like a living creature when it burned.
“Where are we going?” Maya asked.
“Just follow me,” Dana assured her. They went around the fight, keeping down and trying to stay behind cover. Maya shrieked when a shadowy hand as big as a man slammed an animated bed into the wall next to them. The bed braced its back legs against the wall and pushed the hand back. Jayden leaped upon the bed and cut it in half with his sword.
“I’m going to regret this in the morning,” Witch Way said before casting another spell. Shadows lengthened around her before a horrifying red skinned monster rose up from the darkness. It had the shape of a man, but with eyes and gaping toothy maws scattered across its grotesque body. “Sid, I’ve got a job for you, double pay.”
“I can guess what it is,” the monstrosity said from its mouths. It lumbered after Jayden, shoving aside broken furniture to reach him. Jayden met it with sword in hand and a roar of defiance. The monster tried to wrap both arms around him in a bear hug. Jayden ran straight at it, and at the last second brought his giant shadowy hand in from the side to knock the monster over. Once it was on the ground he stood over it and swung his black sword again and again, cutting the monster to pieces that boiled away.
Dana finally reached her target with Maya. The two stood next to the fireplace and the beating stone heart over it. Dana drew her sword and held it high as Witch Way caused iron nails to pop out of her floorboards and rise up in a lethal cloud.
“Retribution spell,” Dana reminded the witch.
Witch Way scowled and let the cloud of nails drop to the floor. A surprised look crossed her face, and she turned and saw Dana and Maya next to her heart stone. Then the witch saw Dana’s sword. She held up both hands and said, “Wait, what are you doing?”
Dana swung her sword at the fireplace to prove its danger. Her sword had damaged an iron golem and had no trouble slicing through the brick fireplace. She then pressed the tip of her sword against the stone heart and said, “Hands in the air, or the rock gets it.”
“No! It took a year to build that thing!”
“Then stop fighting.”
Witch Way pointed at Jayden. “Tell him that!”
Jayden’s shadowy magic hand grabbed Witch Way around the waist and lifted her off her feet. He pointed his sword her and said, “You claim to be my equal within these walls, so let’s take this fight outside.”
Dana had seen Jayden consumed by rage before, a terrifying sight. Getting him to calm down would be difficult. She ran over and grabbed Jayden by the arm.
“Jayden, I know this woman is evil,” Dana began.
“Not helping!” Witch Way shouted.
“But she saved your life. No one else nearby could have helped you. People warned me about her and I brought you anyway. I was desperate and you were dying. What she did was inexcusable, but I’m asking you not to kill her.”
Jayden stared at the witch. He was breathing hard and looked like he was seconds from attacking. Dana needed to do more.
“Maya and I saw your memories along with the witch,” Dana told him. Jayden’s fury was replaced with confusion. He stepped back and lowered his sword. “We know what you went through as a child and why you fight the king and queen. I’m so sorry. You deserved better.”
“Should we bow?” Maya asked. “He is royalty.”
Jayden looked down. “Don’t bow. Don’t kneel. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’ll take contempt over pity, for I’m worthy of scorn.”
“Jayden,” Dana began.
“I failed!” he roared. “I watched my father descend into evil. No one else could have saved him. No one else had the connection to him I did. I didn’t know the words to reach him. Countless villains masquerading as allies badgered him, pulled at him, never letting up for a minute as they tried to make his soul as ugly as their own. They succeeded and I failed, and countless lives have become infinitely worse.”
“I know you’re hurting, but you have friends who can help,” Maya reminded him. “You did then, too, Mr. Wintry and the jester. Um, what happened to them?”
Jayden’s anger was replaced with a depression every bit as great. “I’m told Mr. Wintry passed away three years ago. He waged a campaign of words against the king and queen, telling every man of influence what villains they are. Father and stepmother never understood why their diplomats suffered such hostile receptions in foreign lands. Kipling might still be alive somewhere, an old man by now. The last I’d heard of him, he’d stolen a month’s payroll for the army and fled the kingdom.”
“Why didn’t you go to them for help?” Dana asked him.
“I wanted to. Countless days went by where I yearned for their advice or a friendly voice in dark times, but if anyone saw us together they would guess the truth, meaning death for me and them.”
“Surely the king must know you escaped,” Maya said. “You stole a longboat.”
Jayden shook his head. “Waters around the Isle of Tears are treacherous, and storms are frequent. Losing a small boat there isn’t surprising or cause for concern. Other ships sent to the isle would expect to find only bones rather than men, so our absence wasn’t noticed.”
“Your hair was black in those memories,” Witch Way pointed out.
Jayden saw one of his bags on the floor and took a small bottle from it. “Hair dye. It does more than you’d think to disguise me.”
Witch Way laughed. “The mighty sorcerer lord dyes his hair?”
Dana glared at the witch until she shut up. With the witch silenced, she said, “The king and queen are responsible for their own actions, not you. They had the loyalty and love of good men. They threw that away for followers with dog-like obedience. What happened wasn’t your fault, and nothing you could do would have changed it. You were only a child.”
“I was a prince,” he said bitterly. “And now I’m a dead man. I warned you once that if my true name became known it was a death sentence. The king and queen will send armies after me if they learn I still live. You, Maya and the witch know the truth. I trust you and Maya, but my secret isn’t safe with the witch.”
Dana sheathed her sword and approached Witch Way. “You’re cursed with total honesty. Whatever you say has to be the truth, and you have to keep promises. Promise that you’ll never tell anyone what you’ve learned tonight.”
Witch Way hesitated. Dana pressed her hard, saying, “Do you want this fight to start again? Either he’ll kill you or you’ll kill him, and then his retribution spell will kill you. You’ve already lost much. Don’t add your life to the list.”
The witch heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Prince Mastram, in return for my life I’ll never tell another your secret. Many will know that Sorcerer Lord Jayden came to me for help, so telling clients I saved your life is good advertising. I can’t break this promise even if I tried. Does this satisfy you?”
Jayden dispelled the magic hand holding Witch Way. “Your can keep your life, witch, but what you’ve done demands a response. I won’t harm a hair on your head, but my vengeance shall be brutal.”
Dana and Maya grabbed their things and helped Jayden out of the witch’s house. The fight had taken a lot out of him, and he only went a short distance before sitting down. The sun began to rise, welcome light after such a difficult night.
“I never realized how hurt he was,” Maya said from a safe distance. “Inside, I mean. Imagine having your own family turn against you. I always wondered what it was like to have a father and mother, and his were awful.”
“He’s blaming yourself for everything that’s gone wrong in the kingdom,” Dana said. She’d known that for all Jayden’s bravado he was a mess, but she’d never thought he was so badly damaged. How could she fix this?
Dana had thought they were done with Witch Way, but the witch came near Dana and said, “I’m sorry. You have no idea how rare it is for me to say that. Jayden or I would be dead if not for you. Probably me. I brought it on myself, like all my problems.”
“Your house is ruined,” Maya said sadly.
“My heart stone is all that matters. Those are hard to build, and costly in power and promises.” Sounding more worried than apologetic, Witch Way asked, “About Jayden’s threat. Exactly what did he mean?”
A tiny spark drifted by them and went through the open door of the house. Witch Way’s face turned pale. “He wouldn’t.”
“He would,” Dana said.
Boom! The house exploded in a fireball that destroyed what little had survived the recent battle. Pieces of the heart stone landed nearby and shattered when they hit the ground. High-pitched laughed echoes across the forest as the spirits in the heart stone made their escape.
“He did,” Maya said.
