The Last Light (The Wandering Inn, #5)

by Pirateaba

“Hey. You. Miss Human.” He’d already forgotten her name. Ryoka forgave him that; at the moment she couldn’t remember what the color orange was. Relc helped her up, removing her bindings as she sat on a chair and tried to tell whether the banging was in her mind, or whether her brain was bouncing around.

He glanced over to a small, wooden board sitting on the table a few feet away from him. It too occupied the dressing room table, which also held Niers’ bed, most of his possessions, and his entire wardrobe. The rest of Niers’ room was given over to a large amount of papers, most stacked with some degree of neatness, but giving the entire place a distinct impression that a tiny person had decided to camp out in the middle of a filing room. It was, Niers thought to himself, entirely appropriate. Not that the clutter mattered outside of the table; for a Fraerling, the dressing table itself was a gigantic bedroom, complete with treacherous drops several times his height he could throw himself off if he got bored of life.

“I’m feeling old, Foliana. You have grey in your fur—” “I’m distinguished. You’re old and wrinkly. I’m not.” “You have fur. That hides your wrinkles.” “Mm. I’d like blueberries.”

Niers nodded at Marian as the Centaur trotted back into the room. “Now, an Antinium army has assaulted your very odd army of pikes and archers. You’ve a few high-level individuals among them, but no one noteworthy. Your terrain is a canyon, with ground porous enough that the Antinium can dig through it. How will you survive their assault? Venaz, speak. And so help me, if you claim your entire army is filled with Minotaurs I’ll send to you to Izril so you can see how well your tactics hold up against the Antinium in person!”

“I am not cursed. That’s a myth, and the company’s official stance is that it’s just gossip. I am not cursed—” She interrupted. “Yes you are. You’re cursed. You think you’re an old man and you act like it. I’m distinguished and young. You’re crotchety.”

“Why not? Form an army, Marian. I’ll take you on—” “Me?” “You and every one of my students who wants to participate. Go on, get things ready. I’ll be out shortly.” He saw Marian’s eyes widen, and then she galloped from the room. People who’d casually been eavesdropping instantly headed for the doors and the rumors began to fly. The Titan was about to have a match! He wondered what the odds were. Foliana looked at him. “The old you would have said no.” “Good thing I don’t feel old.”

Niers was standing on his pedestal, red coat ablaze in the sun. Peclir stared at him. “When I see him so, I can see him there, Miss Foliana. Right there in your story. And before that. He has been a legend.” “Mm. He’ll quit when he’s old.” Foliana nodded. Niers was laughing, she could tell. She couldn’t see him or hear his voice, but she knew he was laughing. Peclir turned and stared at her. “Do you mean he plans on retiring, Miss?” “Mm. He forgets sometimes. I have to remind him.” “Remind him of what?” She smiled. Niers laughed, and Foliana turned. Her eyes shone as she looked at Peclir and grinned. “We’re not old yet.”

“A dire situation. Yet the Goblin Lord has a ways to go before reaching any major city, if you’ll beg my pardon. He needs to get past Liscor first, and the Drakes are certain to send—” “Wullst, I am the [Lady] of this carriage, not you. If you would like to cross your legs, shave your beard, wear a pink dress and some rather uncomfortable undergarments, then you may sit in my place and dictate to me all the things I already know. I’ll even let you eat my cookies if you go that far. Until you are that committed, please do not presume to state the obvious.”

The magical carriage sped on, flying over hills, across bridges, northwards, ever further. It seldom slowed, never really stopped. When there was traffic on the roads, it swerved off the road, sometimes crossing frozen lakes rather than deal with traffic. And it never ran into trouble. Sometimes it ran over trouble, but that was trouble’s problem, not Magnolia’s.

and every time we send our armies down to battle the Drakes in the Blood Fields in the time honored tradition of wasting lives for no gain,

In a game of armies and kings, of death and battle, a lone Dragon sat in his cave, aloof from it all. He was mighty. He had lived through the rise and fall of greater empires than any that now existed on the earth. He was a ruler of fire, one of the last and mightiest of his kind. He was a Dragon. And now he had reached perfection. On the ground of his cavern, the Dragon gently, and with exquisite care, extended a claw. With the finest of control he gently lowered the talon a fraction and tapped a glowing screen.

He’d done it. He’d clicked the screen, bought many, many upgrades, and finally, become a lord of cookies. Teriarch had no idea what the strange confectionaries actually tasted like, but he was sure they were some sort of granulated sugar treat. He’d had similar substances over the years, even if he’d never had ‘chocolate chip’ cookies. And now he was producing so many! Teriarch was at the head of a virtual cookie empire that could literally bury his opponents live in cookies. He had enough cookies to fill the sea, to build himself a castle and army! He could do anything! He was a cookie god! The Dragon blinked at the tiny screen and then slowly rolled—or perhaps collapsed—onto his side. He stared at the screen. “I feel so empty.”

Welcome to modern gaming.

“Miss Shivertail, may I state my objections to your restrictions on my fellow teammate?” Selys blinked at the Antinium and eyed him for a moment. “Uh, okay. What’s the problem?” Ksmvr nodded. Oblivious to the stares, he raised his voice and spoke calmly. “I feel that this restriction on the summoning of undead is unjust. You are restricting our tactical diversity with such actions. The raising of the dead is a key facet to the [Necromancer] class, and I for one object to the crippling of one of my fellow adventurer’s abilities. I am sure my colleagues feel the same.” He nodded around the room at the shocked Drakes, Humans and Gnolls. There was a pause and one of the Drakes, a short fellow with black scales stood up. “Not I! I’m glad I don’t have to deal with a [Necromancer], let alone journey with one! Who knows if he’d turn me into a zombie after I died! Would you like that, Antinium?” There was a great deal of hostility in his voice, which Ksmvr seemed to completely ignore. The Antinium nodded calmly. “I would be insulted if he did not use my body.” The black-scaled Drake paused. “What? Are you insane? Why would you want that?” Ksmvr clicked his mandibles together. “Animating a fallen teammate’s corpse is the only sound tactical decision to be made in a combat situation. Or would you prefer to let your comrades lie where they fall?”

He has a point. Would you opt to let more teammates die by not using a potentially pivotal resource? It is a bit creepy, but might mean all the difference to the survivors.

No one wants to end up as a zombie or ghoul.” The Antinium turned, looking somewhat irate. “But that makes no sense. I object most strongly to this rule. Are you implying that my corpse has no tactical value in combat?” He leaned over the counter, addressing Selys directly. “I can assure you that my deceased form is quite operable in many situations so long as it has not been dissected, disintegrated, incinerated, consumed, possessed, liquefied, or—” “Alright, thank you Selys! We’ll be going now. Come on, Ksmvr.” Ceria dragged Ksmvr back. She desperately signaled to Yvlon, and the female warrior helped Ceria pull the Antinium to the door. Ksmvr was still trying to lecture everyone on the benefits of his corpse as a tool of utility. Pisces was trying not to laugh, and everyone was staring.

After you're dead it's not like it matters to *you.* And Ksmvr has a point, it might well matter a great deal to your team. I'm glad Ksmvr managed to avoid the explosion, apparently without trying. Ceria might think they're weak - and in terms if combat that mught be true to an extent - but the group is exhibiting comradeship and cohesion, which is just as important. If not more than simple combat prowess, because random people who don't get along or work together well will have interpersonal problems that interfere with the ability to actually make use of their combat prowess.

“…Ceria?” “What? That’s how Calruz did things. Okay, maybe he had a bit of a plan—” “I will volunteer to be the first to charge in, Captain Ceria. You may assume from my cries for help or of encouragement whether the danger is—” “Shush, Ksmvr.

Okay, let’s do this. Yvlon in front, then Ksmvr and me, and Pisces at the rear.” “Agreed.” “Got it.” “Please use my corpse as a tool if I should fall in battle, Comrade Pisces—” Perhaps there were better ways to enter the cave, but at least the Horns of Hammerad moved in formation and no one was screaming.

“Junior? Oh come on. It’s got to be an adult! I’ve never seen one, but—junior?” The Antinium nodded at Yvlon and Ceria’s shocked expressions. “It is decidedly a juvenile example of the species. The ones we encountered en masse were hatchlings of course. But an adult is considerably larger. And it can fly. If we had encountered one such Creler, I doubt we would be alive. It takes many Soldiers to bring down a single adult.”

“Tree shit.” “Bullshit, if you will excuse my language.” Pisces and Ceria spoke at the same time. They looked at each other, and then at Yvlon. “Pig shit. Bird poo. Squirrel feces. Lizard poo. Drake poo. Excuse me. I thought we were listing excrement.” Ksmvr came over, covered in Creler goo. He cocked his head at the others as they laughed.

“I can repair your arms, but I regret that I cannot do anything about the iron fused with your, ah, flesh, Yvlon. It may be removed, but there is not enough bone to reconstruct your arms with afterward.” “And you can’t…add more bone? I’ve never asked before, but…” Yvlon nodded subtly at the two undead bears that were standing watch over the burning junior Creler. Ceria’s mouth dropped open. Pisces eyes widened before he shook his head. “Alas, no. Bones aren’t that easy to use interchangeably, Yvlon. A bear’s bones would be rejected by a human body. So too would any other bones, should you be curious. It is a…a function of your body that it would only accept your bone as part of ‘you’.”

Transplants aren't a thing in this world, I guess.

The inn had gone crazy over cake. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever had!” Relc was crying as he gobbled down his piece of cake. He licked his plate and then began demanding to know how it was made, how much it cost, and where he could get more of it from Erin. He was joined by Revi, Jelaqua, and a hyperactive Mrsha who was practically vibrating in place. If that were all, Ryoka would have gotten down on her knees and thanked the non-discriminate and blessed ways of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, which was the only deity she was prepared to worship in this world.

“Hrr. What a delightful child. Is she one of yours?” Regrika looked around the table. The faces of the Gnolls froze over for a second and Erin coughed. “Uh, that’s Mrsha, Miss Blackpaw. She’s—well, she’s part of the family at the inn, really. Her family was—uh—”

The gnolls know something's wrong. Regrika, as a gnoll, should have known what white fur means, and Venitra clearly does not.

“You like to play? That’s great! I’m pretty good at the game myself. Want to play a game?” “I should like that very much.” There was no way for Ryoka to stop the game between Erin and Imenet, or rather, Az’kerash without upsetting the table or tossing a pot of soup over everyone. She considered that, but decided it was better to let them play. After all, what harm could it do?

It's gonna bring Erin - the best chess player in this world, better even than *the Titan* for all that neither of them know that - to his attention!

I owe too much to you, my aunt, and…and to Lyonette to risk my life so easily. But when I see adventurers like Regrika or—or your friends, I remember that I too wish to become more than I am.

“Is that my tower? It is not as tall as I requested, Pawn.” “You wanted a tower that was structurally unfeasible, Bird.” “Yes. So?” “This is as high as we deemed it necessary.

“Bird, have I done something to offend you?” “I wish to hunt birds. Are you trying to prevent me from sitting in my tower now, Pawn?” “No, Bird. You are free to sit in your new tower.” “You say that, but social obligations force me to drink with you. You explained this to me last week. This is a trap. I do not wish to drink but my status as ‘friend’ with you and Miss Erin prohibits me from refusing.” Erin started to laugh and covered it. Pawn opened his mandibles and sighed. “Bird, that is not…do I need to explain this to you again?” “Yes.” “I’ll leave you two to it! Pawn, come inside when you want to. Bird, you can sit in your tower if you want? I’ll tell Lyonette to send up a drink for you!” The two Antinium watched Erin walk into her refurbished inn. Bird waved as Erin shut the door and then turned to Pawn. “That was a considerate statement. Why could you not have made a similar statement to begin with?” “I didn’t say anything about you having to drink with me, Bird.” “You said ‘we’. We implies multiple people, which in turn implies me. You said it despite my use of a meaningful stare you should have correctly interpreted. This is very hurtful, Pawn. I wish to sit in my tower and you have disregarded my feelings.” Pawn glared at Bird. “Look here, Bird. This is a stupid and pointless argument we are having. Each second we have it is a second I don’t spend drinking with Erin and you spend outside, rather than in your tower! Do I have to explain how free will and social dy...

🤣🤣🤣

“Remember this, Ryoka Griffin: when you run, the wind knows. The wind is a thing. A thing that thinks, like trees do, or rocks. The earth is not alive, but neither is it dead. Remember that. Step as if you mean to walk into the sky. That is how faeries fly.”

She looked backwards, then forwards, and then through Ryoka. Ivolethe’s gaze traced objects that were not there. Her eyes were distant, aloof, immortal. Ryoka averted her gaze. Of all the things she had seen her friend do, this unnerved her the most. In that moment, she felt the difference between the two. Because Ivolethe was immortal, for all she behaved like a creature of this earth. And the undying look at the world as it truly is, as it will be, and as it was. Dust.

“One question. How did you know I lied about Brunkr? I passed the truth detection spell the Antinium gave me.” Erin looked at her and shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious? It wasn’t about the truth crystal. Everyone was looking at that, but I could tell without it. You gave it all away here.” She tapped her mouth. Regrika blinked. “What?” “It was your smile. You smiled like Mrsha does when she’s been naughty. Kids are bad liars. And so are you.”

Lastly, Venitra. You will not kill Erin Solstice. Nor will you allow her to be harmed. That is an order.

Damn it; that's another super scary person interested in Erin now.

“I am Bird. I am a guard at the inn.” The Gnoll smiled. “A dead one. You should have fled.” “I was asleep.” The Gnoll blinked. Bird looked past her and at Erin. “I was asleep in my tower. I woke up to hunt birds. I assume that this person is a danger to you and or the residents of your inn?” Erin stared at him. Regrika stared at him. Revi took the moment to keep stitching her torso together. The Antinium waited and then turned to Regrika. “Know that I am obliged to hurt you with brutal force. You are not a bird, so I will shoot you and not eat you. Unless you are tasty.”

His other two hands rose. They were holding something. A bucket. Bird hurled it at Regrika. She didn’t block it. The dark liquid splashed over her and Regrika stopped. Erin froze. She couldn’t see well in the darkness, but she could smell it. Bird turned. “That was feces from the outhouse. I gathered it. It is an antagonistic action meant to irritate. I am bait. The poo is not from birds, by the way.” He ran out the door. Regrika was staring at the excrement covering her body. She brushed off a clump, and then she went insane. “You have disgraced my image! You! I will kill you!”

Well, that got her attention.

“You killed children and innocents with your spells. You, a Drake. I do not understand it. The Antinium are called monsters because we sacrifice our own. But we do not murder each other.” Both Imenet and Zel stared at her. Xrn turned her head away from the image of Imenet she was staring at and began talking to the air next to her. “My orders from the Grand Queen are not to use force unless attacked first. Especially not against groups like adventurers to avoid starting a war. So I will not cast any spells. Unless you hit me with one. Please, do.” The Drake shifted his grip on the staff. He didn’t move. Xrn nodded. Zel looked at her warily. If she wasn’t going to fight, but just stand there— Stand there. Xrn was speaking and staring at a blank patch of…nothing, although she’d clearly been addressing Imenet. She was staring at it intently. Zel’s heart pounded. He abandoned his position and charged towards Xrn. Not at her, but a bit to the left. At the patch of air.

“You are right, sisters. She is not. A mortal is not, for all her passion. For all her wonder. She is not worth interfering with, not worth breaking the rules. Not as she is.” They agreed. Some laughed. Others wept. They were more than creatures of snow and ice. Their natures were changing. They were changing. Ivolethe looked down at the ground. To break the rules was to be punished. That was how rules worked. But they were rules for a reason. They could be broken, if you were willing to pay the price. She swept downwards. Hands grabbed at her. “Sister, no! Did you not say?” “It is not worth the cost! Not for a mortal! You said, you said!” “Yes.” Ivolethe’s voice was distant. She flew, ignoring the cries of her sisters, summoning the last of her strength. Her body froze, colder than winter. Her voice echoed. “It is not worth it. Not for what she is. But perhaps. For what she might become. And for one reason more. Because she is my friend.”

That’s the problem with being in the history books. Everyone knows too much.

“He makes laws and his subjects play with them. That is natural. But to break them—she was punished. But not killed, I think. Just banished from this world.” “For how long? A year? A month?” Hope, and disappointment. Ryoka saw the answer before Teriarch spoke it. “Forever? No, again, perhaps not. But a thousand years, ten thousand…it would not be a short amount of time. The fae do not think of time as we do. And their King would punish Ivolethe for her sins.” “For so long?” Ryoka felt tears in her eyes. Teriarch nodded. “The punishment for those who grow too attached to the world is never to see what it will become. I do not know if it helps or not.” “It does. A bit. Thank you.”

It matters, Bea, because Dragons have hides stronger than diamond, and hearts softer than snow.”