The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set 2

by Eric Ugland

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said with a curtsy. “It is quite difficult to maintain one’s appearance when out in the wild, but I feel it is quite important.”

  “A job well done then,” I said.

  “What is it you are doing today, my lord?”

  “Clearing the land,” I said. “And digging a ditch.”

  “Not exactly befitting nobility,” she replied.

  “Does that mean you won’t be joining us?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you expecting that of me?”

  “Well, if you’re a part of the community, and you’re not part of the tower team or the sawmill team, and you’re not guarding, you’re probably supposed to be digging.”

  “Her ladyship will not be joining you in that—” Eliza’s armored lady-in-waiting began in that most haughty of tones.

  Eliza held up a hand as a sly smile spread across her face.

  “No, Melissa,” Eliza said, “I think I shall. Duke Coggeshall is quite correct. We are here as part of the community, and we expect to reap the benefits of their work. So we should also labor.”

  “I would be happy to take your place, my lady,” Melissa said, squaring her shoulders with me as if she wanted to race to see who could cut down trees or rip up bushes the fastest.

  “You will work too,” Eliza said. “We all will. Though I fear I might not have the appropriate attire for the occasion. If you will permit me to change, Lord Coggeshall?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  She curtsied, then walked back to her tent.

  I picked up the big axe and gave it a few test swings. It felt so good to swing into that first tree. I gave it a big meaty thump, and the axe bit deep. A second hit, and I knocked out a huge wedge. A strong shove, and the tree crashed down.

  Next.

  I was on the third tree when I realized I was neglecting something.

  My pendant. The prinkies. They were supposed to be helping me out. And if my math was correct, I could afford more than a few of them. Five mana per? That meant I could field a hundred. A hundred plus, technically.

  Probably wasn’t the best idea to summon them all at once. Especially since I had no idea what I was summoning. They could be tentacled horrors that oozed weird, um, oozes. Or gibbering beasts full of saliva and wrath.

  I held up the amulet and looked it over. The carving was, as far as I could tell, a series of balls of fur overlapping each other. I looked at the amulet for a few moments, doing my best to figure out the command to summon the prinky. My experience with magic items so far led me to believe that most items were actually simpler than anyone expected. Hell, the bag of holding I had would empty itself with the command ‘empty.’

  “I summon thee, prinky!” I shouted.

  There was a pop, and a small creature appeared in front of me. It looked around, confused for a moment, then sighted on me and looked up.

  All told, the thing was about the size of a football. It had a very large head with outsized ears, somewhere between bat-shaped and dog-shaped, with one corner folded down for cute measure. Its eyes were, almost cartoonish in size and shape. Small nose, small mouth with rounded teeth, not sharp fangs. Short fur covered everything, and it stood on two legs while holding its small hands in front of it. Oh, and it was red. Bright red. Vermillion even.

  “Holy shit you’re cute,” I said.

  It tilted its head to the side, and blinked.

  “Oh fuck,” Tarryn’s voice called out from behind me. “Have you been infected with prinkies?”

  “You know what these things are?” I asked. “And what do you mean infected?”

  Tarryn marched over, staring at the little red dude the whole way, and then knelt in front of the creature.

  The creature looked over at him, eyes wide and innocent, then looked back at me.

  “I do know these creatures,” he said, peering around the prinky. “Where did you find this?”

  “I have an amulet.””

  “Oh bother.”

  “What?”

  “Forgive me for assuming you know nothing about them—“

  “Correct assumption.”

  “They are abominations.”

  “Seems harsh.”

  “They were created quite some time ago by a vile Mancer who hated other magic users. He was not as advanced as some of his peers, and so he created a creature which lived off the mana of its owner. They were cute and they were helpful, and they seemed innocuous until you realized you had several of them working for you, and you had no mana left for any difficult spells.”

  “Oh. I mean, that’s all?”

  “Mana is the life blood of a Mancer. How do you expect—“

  “Dude, what the fuck do I need mana for?”

  He looked at me, confused.

  “Besides, it doesn’t seem like they take all that much.”

  “Oh? From what I know, it depends heavily on the manner in which they were summoned. They are quite rare. I have only read of them in a few places before, but all magic users are warned of their dangers, being that they are so—“

  “Cute and useful? I don’t see how that thing would, you know—“

  It made a chirping sort of noise and looked at me, and I had to steel my heart against the beast. It was really fricking cute.

  “You are the owner of this?” Tarryn asked.

  “I am, I guess.”

  “Then I suppose there is little harm in it.”

  “It’s only five mana.”

  “What?”

  “Five mana. That’s all he needs to survive.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s according to the amulet, and looking at my own mana, I’m just down five from my total.”

  Tarryn’s entire demeanor changed. He reached a hand out and ran it over the creature’s fur. The thing closed its eyes and purred as Tarryn pet it.

  “I have never felt something quite so soft,” Tarryn said, almost reverently. “Perhaps it would be okay for me to have one — just one — as a companion or a familiar.”

  “Tarryn, get to work already.”

  “What do you mean work?”

  “Digging.”

  “Me?”

  “What is your job?”

  “Nathalie, in her position as head of security, has tasked me with staying in sight of you and making sure you are safe.”

  “I don’t need protection.”

  “And yet here I am, following duly given orders.”

  “Fine. Leave the thing alone, and give me some space.”

  Tarryn stood up, hands held high, and walked back.

  “About the prinky,” he said.

  “You can’t have one. I’m putting them to work.”

  “As you wish,” Tarryn replied, but I had the distinct impression the conversation regarding the prinky was far from over.

  The prinky in question was still watching me. Waiting for me to talk to it or do something. It chirped again.

  “Ah, right,” I said, kneeling down so I was a little closer to eye level with him. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

  The thing nodded vigorously and smiled at me.

  “And you can understand what I’m saying?”

  Nodding.

  “Or are you just nodding at everything I say because you’re happy I’m talking to you?”

  Head tilt, eyes looking around, then back at me, head shake.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  It pointed to me.

  “I’m Montana. You?”

  It pointed to me again, a little more emphatic.

  “Going on a limb here, but am I supposed to name you?”

  “I would refrain from doing that,” Tarryn called out.

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because I believe that is what makes them more difficult to un-summon.”

  The prinky shot a dark look towards Tarryn, then was back to being cute with me.

  “Okay, well, let’s just wait on a name, shall we
?” I said to the little creature. “We’re clearing all the vegetation and rocks and stuff between this building here, and, well, a long way out that, like, to the river, say.”

  Prinky the first, or Prinky Prime as I was thinking of it, nodded.

  “Uh, so, yeah, pile stuff back, uh,” I looked behind me, and saw Tarryn lounging in the grass in the shade of a tree near the longhouse, “right where that guy is laying.”

  Prime nodded, and immediately grabbed at a shrub near him. There was some grunting and groaning, but eventually, the little shrub came free from the earth, and the prinky hoisted it up, a giant smile on its cute little face, and marched it over in the direction of Tarryn.

  I looked at my character sheet, examining both my mana and how fast it had regenerated.

  The regeneration didn’t matter, I was just five mana down.

  I summoned another prinky.

  Pop. Just as cute, but a little different, both in color and shape. It looked up at me, waiting.

  “Uh, do what that one’s doing,” I said, pointing over at Prime.

  Prime chirped something as it threw the shrub at Tarryn, who shrieked in surprise as dirt and bush hit him in the face. I know that I’ve always been surprised when a dirty bush has hit me in the face, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never screamed quite as shrilly.

  Prinky Two grabbed at a bush.

  A moment later, Prime came over and joined with Two. They got the bush out faster, and worked together to walk it over towards Tarryn, who was muttering while wiping his face and robes off.

  The creatures had a funny way of walking. Well, a cute way. It was kind of like a toddler, toddling around. But they worked together very well, and I started to wonder if they could coordinate in large numbers.

  One way to find out! Really, just summon a bunch at once.

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Now I had a dozen. All different in little ways. One had bigger ears, another larger eyes. Different colors, one was a gradient, starting dark blue at his feet and winding up a vermillion at his eartips, a veritable rainbow of cute furry creatures looking at me expectantly.

  “Help them,” I said, pointing to Prime and Two.

  There were some pleasant chirps between the prinkies, and just like that, they were working as a team, picking up rather heavy objects, then toddling over and putting everything in the growing pile around the increasingly unhappy Tarryn.

  “Lovely,” I said with a smile, feeling like these little things might work out.

  Chapter 65

  Most of the townsfolk were busy digging while I cut down trees. Which the prinkies then picked up and carried over to a stack of logs. Of course, I had to get a few more of the prinkies going. To the tune of a hundred.

  One hundred prinkies of various colors and shapes. Within reason. All I mean to say is that they weren’t identical copies. They were individuals. It made me disbelieve Tarryn, to a degree. Not that he was lying, but perhaps Tarryn’s was but a story. The creatures seemed too complicated to be a fabrication or an artifice.

  They were, however, good workers. Not the best, as there was definitely an upper limit to the directions they understood. Anything where there was the slightest bit of actual decision-making involved, and there’d be a knock-down drag out fight over the appropriate means of accomplishing the task. So while asking them to pull bushes and pile them up was fine, asking them to sort bushes out or only pick the ripe berries, that was just a recipe for disaster. A hilarious disaster of course, since, like everything the prinkies did, it was cute.

  As a plus, the prinkies didn’t seem to need breaks. Or if they did, I didn’t notice them taking breaks. And they didn’t eat. I mean, besides draining my mana, which they barely seemed to do.

  We were making some incredible progress, and by the time we called a stop for the day, there was a swath of clear land about a hundred yards in any direction from the village. Sure, there were a ton of stumps to deal with still, and we had stacks of trees to turn into lumber, and a relative shit ton of shrubs, bushes, and other undergrowth things, but that was an easy bonfire fix away.

  I felt pretty okay about things, until I checked on the progress of the other groups.

  My plan called for the tunnel to end in an open area that would essentially be our killzone if anyone tried to attack from the south, through the tunnel. We would need a large gate, which had mostly been constructed already, and some big ass towers. The towers would be at the corners and provide military housing as well as fighting positions. Then, there’d be big walls running from the towers the short distance to the mountain face. All told, the area would be about a quarter acre. But we basically had one guy trying to do all the building. Two if you count Nikolai.

  Conall, the woch, was doing admirable work, though rather slow. He’d nearly finished off the walls around the gate. He’d completed about half of one wall and was right around the point where he could start on the first tower.

  Which wasn’t exactly much further along than where he’d been previously. Not that he was working slowly, it just wasn’t a one person (or woch) job. Sure, the dude was built like a brick house and had four arms, but he still needed more bodies. And he wasn’t exactly a fan of talking, which added to the complexity of getting other people to work with him. He followed orders and directions perfectly, but he wasn’t exactly brimming with suggestions on how to streamline the project. Watching Nikolai, I had the distinct impression he was growing frustrated with his position.

  I didn’t interfere, though. I just observed for now.

  Lee had made slightly more progress.

  His group managed to get the beginnings of a structure formed, up over by the river. I could see why Lee had chosen the place, because even though it was in the early stages, I got a clear picture of what was going up, namely, a water wheel. And, it made sense: use the river to power the sawmill. But that meant we had to find a way to protect the sawmill. And the riverbank. Which, in my head, meant we probably need to wall over the river, and I was having enough trouble making a wall around a vague rectangle.

  “Lee,” I called out.

  He gave me a wave and trotted my way.

  “Having the water wheel here gives us a tremendous advantage,” he said. “Effectively, we can have a power hammer in the smithy and a powered blade in the sawmill. And, if we get to the point where we’re growing enough wheat to warrant a mill, we can do that as well.”

  “It’s kind of on the outside of the walls.”

  “Sure,” Lee said, “but if we are in a siege sort of situation, we can just power things manually. Or with animals.”

  “The plan isn’t to wall around the wheel?”

  “Not yet,” Lee said, a wry smile on his face. “For now, since we’re overflowing with massive logs, we run everything through the wall. Essie and I have been talking about doing something with the waterfalls in the canyon, but that’s obviously a much more involved project once we’ve got too many bored people needing jobs.”

  I shook my head. “Not sure when that’s going to be.”

  “You get more of those little furry things running around it might be.”

  He grinned as he watched a group of the prinkies tear a large bush from the ground then toddle it towards the piles.

  “Would having some of them help you guys?” I asked.

  “Do they follow directions?”

  “Well,” I said, then had to stop as the prinkies started chirping angrily, arguing about whether their bush should go in the shrubbery pile or the bush pile. The distinctions of which were still murky to anyone but the prinkies. “They listen to directions. I think.”

  “We might be able to use them,” Lee said. “Not quite yet — everything we’re doing tomorrow is going to be pretty technical, but the day after that, once we have the wheel up, that’s going to be when we put the sawmill together.”

  “So we’ll have lumber by the end of the week?”

  “What day is today
?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “In that case, if it’s Saturday, no. If it’s Monday, yes. You pick.”

  “Works for me,” I said, and gave Lee a merry clap on the shoulder.

  Chapter 66

  Once again, I chose to spend the night out under the stars, and I woke up to a blanket of snoring prinkies quite liberally and literally covering me. I was sweating profusely. Some of them had squished themselves around my head, akin to pillows.

  I got to my feet, and somehow stifled the urge to scream because the damn things were clinging to me. Still snoring, amazingly.

  I grabbed one and peeled it off. It tried to squirm in closer, to cuddle. I wanted to throw it, but it was just so darned cute. It looked at me with its big eyes, all innocent, so I just dropped it in the pile of prinkies that was somehow my bed. Then, I had the fun of wading through the furry beasties until I was finally free of them, and they all cuddled back together as if I’d never been there.

  For a moment, I inspected my person until I found the one who was still asleep on my head. That one I tossed over my shoulder, and it fell into the pile.

  The four moons lit the sky and the sun was still a ways from rising, I’d managed to sleep far longer than I had in some time, and I wondered if that had anything to do with my living blanket. I hoped not, because I felt pretty good, and I didn’t want to have that happen every night. I walked away from the fire and the pile and the longhouse, and, for once, I wasn’t overwhelmed by all the forest about the place. Because it was gone. The prinkies must have worked well into the night. The piles of bushes and shrubs were huge, and every single tree I’d cut down had been stacked into a neat pile of logs. There was still plenty of work to be done, but the space where we were going to build our village had, for the most part, been cleared. I had left some of the larger trees with wide crowns and thick branches for shade and aesthetic joy.

  There were markings left by the older battenti gent denoting where the wall was going to be, how far out and how far down the ditch needed to be, and where the towers would be. Of all the people who’d been working, I felt like he’d done the best job. Or the most work. Or both. He definitely made everything move a lot smoother.