The Savage Realms

by Willard Black

  Drake croaked out in surprise and Mercer gave a low whistle.

  “Hello, beautiful,” said Trix.

  They gathered round the burst chest. Light from Drake’s staff danced and winked on gold coins the size of dimes. On the stone wall, Scribe and his companions had notched their initials.

  Cinder scooped up a handful of coins and let them sift through her fingers. A smile was on her face. She said, “Why didn’t they take it with them?”

  “Too heavy,” Mercer told her. “The plan was to map the locations and then return for the loot if they made it out alive.”

  Cinder pulled the frail map out of her top and shook it open. “There are three more caches on our way out.”

  “Four,” said Drake, “if we take a short side trip.”

  A slow, satisfied grin spread over Mercer’s face. They sorted the coin, and this time Trix won the tie, which put her in a considerably better mood, especially since the tiebreaker happened to be a fat green stone the size of Cinder’s thumb. When it was all said and done, they each added over six thousand Byte to their packs.

  “You know how long it would take me to earn this working at the bank in the Real?” Cinder said.

  “You know how long it took you to earn it in the Realm?” Drake said.

  She thought about it and said, “I’ve been here over a month now.”

  “Time flies when you’re fighting for your life,” Trix remarked.

  “Still more than I earned in a month working at the bank,” Cinder said. She didn’t bother to tell them about the two thousand she had taken from Scribe, and that didn’t take into account the rubies. And they had three more stops on their way to the exit.

  One of the stashes they found had already been plundered. Some other group of adventures had come along, taken the thirty thousand Byte, and left their own initials scratched into the wall next to Scribe and his crew. Still, all told, Cinder was eighteen thousand richer, her pack weighed down by rattling coin, by the time they mounted the long stair back to the surface. Drake was bent nearly double under his load, and Cinder had kindled her own light to give him a rest. Mercer, she was pleased to see, was impressed by the quality and strength of her spell. He nodded with approval at the bright white glow. Trix stomped up the stairs in silence.

  “Are there . . .” Cinder spoke between breaths, “Many . . . dungeons . . . like this?”

  “Not like this,” Mercer said.

  “There’s Stormlight,” said Drake. “We’ve run that one. And the Grey Heights.”

  “The Deep Combe,” said Mercer.

  “Don’t forget Harper’s Folly,” Trix added.

  “But most of the Byte has been looted from those,” said Mercer.

  “By us,” Drake said.

  Cinder, walking with her head down so she could focus on putting one foot in front of the other, went to take another step and did an ungainly stumble. They had reached the top of the long stair and, far ahead, she spied a point of light. She threw her head back and let out a sigh. “Finally.”

  They went faster now, eager to leave behind the long, dark catacombs of Eternal Night and once again feel the sun on their faces, but it was night when they finally emerged on the northern slopes of the Devil’s Fork. The light pouring in the tunnel came from a pale-yellow moon riding low in the sky. They stepped out onto a wide expanse of stone bathed in moonlight. None of them knew it, but they had been four days in the under dark.

  The land fell away to a deep forested vale cloaked in night, and stars wheeled in the heavens. A chill wind swept down off the heights. Winter was coming fast. Cinder shivered and rubbed her arms. After the caves, it felt bitter cold. “How far to the wall?”

  “Another week,” Mercer told her.

  “At least,” said Drake.

  Trix said, “Assuming we don’t run into trouble.”

  Cinder shrugged off her pack so she could dig out her wool cloak. “What could be worse than what we just went through?”

  “We could run into ravagers,” Drake said.

  “Most of them will be at the Pass battling Redgate,” Mercer said. “We made it to the north. That’s the important thing. Two days walk should bring us to Citadel, where we can rest and regroup.”

  “What’s Citadel?” Cinder asked.

  “A town,” he told her. “The only civilized town in the north. It’s protected from ravagers by a narrow stair that marches straight up a cliff. We’ll be able to resupply there.”

  “Assuming they haven’t been overrun,” Drake said. “No one’s heard from Citadel in months.”

  “I doubt even the ravagers could take Citadel,” said Trix.

  “Agreed,” said Mercer. “We’ll make for the city before heading north. It will be an easy walk. Still, we should be cautious. There are plenty of things in the wild that can kill us.”

  As Mercer led the way down from the high shelf, along a rocky path toward the tree line, Cinder trudged along behind him. Trix stopped, turned back, and narrowed her eyes. She was gazing up at a dim point of light flickering high on the shoulders of the Devil’s Fork. She called to Mercer and pointed.

  They all followed her finger. Less than a mile from the doorway to Eternal Night, a flickering light betrayed a fire hidden in a dell formed by a thick stand of trees.

  “They made it over the mountain,” Drake said.

  Mercer pressed his lips together, shook his head, and said, “Damn, that guy is persistent.”

  “Maybe it’s some other group,” Cinder suggested. “We don’t know that it’s Hardin.”

  “It’s him,” Mercer said. “Let’s get lost in those trees. It’s early morning and they may not have seen us come out.”

  They all agreed and slipped silently from the rocky shelf to the forested dell below, quickly disappearing among the hardwoods.

  Hardin stood next to Sparrow, gazing down on the exit to Eternal Night. A blistering wind swept across the high places, cutting through their thick cloaks and chilling them to the bone. Sparrow’s lips were cracked and bleeding. Kid Creole had nearly died of hypothermia crossing the mountains. For two days they had camped in the stand of pines, shivering in the cold, taking turns watching the exit. They were just about to turn back. Another day, two at the most, and Hardin would have given it up for a fool’s errand. No one had ever made it through Eternal Night, and Mercer was overdue his first Realm death.

  He moved a pine branch out of his way and squinted at the four figures on the wide stone shelf, bathed in the pale light of the moon. “I’ll be damned,” Hardin said. “They made it through.”

  “You reckon he’s got a horseshoe shoved up his ass?” Sparrow asked.

  “He’s got more lives than a cat,” Hardin said by way of agreeing.

  Behind them, Kid Creole stirred in his sleep, pushed the blanket off his head, and mumbled, “Wha’s goin’ on?”

  “Mercer and his crew just walked out of Eternal Night,” Hardin said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Kid Creole sat up, still wrapped in his blanket, and stomped over to see for himself. He was just in time to catch the last two before they disappeared into the trees. Kid let out a curse. “Nobody’s that good,” Kid said. “I’m telling you, the guy is a hacker.”

  Sparrow shook his head. “No way. No one has ever hacked the Realms.”

  “No one’s ever made it through Eternal Night either,” Kid pointed out.

  “I heard he’s a vet,” Hardin said. “Special Forces or something like that. Got himself blown up in the war. They say he’s all mangled in the Real. A real treat to look at.”

  “I still say he’s a hacker,” Kid Creole muttered.

  “Who cares,” said Hardin. “Long as he leads us to that money.”

  “We really going to split it with Baron Narsul?” Sparrow asked.

  Hardin snorted. “Hell no. But it was awful nice of him to fund our journey. Gather your gear. Let’s get moving.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Citadel wasn�
��t so much a town as a fortress, perched atop a bald hill which could only be reached by a steep flight of steps chiseled in the stone. The grim wall and turrets overlooked a dark wooded valley with a few scattered farms. Cinder could see why an enemy would have trouble taking the city. The steps switchbacked up the hillside and ended at an iron portcullis in a stone arch. She followed Mercer up the stairs, worn smooth by decades of foot traffic, and tried not to look down. On her right was a sheer drop to the forest floor.

  She was winded by the time they reached the top. They were three days out from Eternal Night. The sun was high overhead and the weather had turned warmer, but Drake warned it was only a brief respite, one last pleasant day before winter came on with a fury. He turned out to be right, though Cinder didn’t know it yet. She wasn’t concerned so much with the weather as a warm bath and a hot meal. Mercer promised her Citadel had both.

  They were greeted at the top by a phalanx of men armed with spears and shields. The iron portcullis stood open, and beyond the wall, Cinder caught sight of regal houses of made of stone. There was a towering keep at the center of the fortification, rising up into the blue sky with many turrets and banners snapping in the breeze.

  “Just four of you?” the captain of the guards asked.

  “That’s right,” Mercer said. He introduced himself and the others.

  “Heard of you,” the captain said. He pointed them to a ledger on a pedestal. “You’ll have to sign in and pay the fee. One Byte per head. No fighting inside the walls.”

  Mercer stepped over to the book and scrawled his name under a column labelled “entry,” then handed the quill to Cinder. She started to write her Real name, scratched it out, and penned Cinder before passing the quill to Drake. There was a small collection jar and Cinder dropped a Byte inside. It landed with a clink and a rattle.

  The guard captain said, “Is it true what they say about ravagers attacking the Pass?”

  “Redgate is hard-pressed to hold them back,” Mercer said. “Baron Kris is calling for men-at-arms and paying handsomely.”

  The captain turned his head to the side and spat. “How did you come north, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Passed through Eternal Night,” Trix told them as she jotted down her name in the ledger.

  The group of men shifted and muttered among themselves, but the captain sniffed. “Not even you lot are that good.”

  Mercer turned to Cinder who reached into her vest, pulled out the map, and held it up for the captain’s inspection. His eyes scanned the page, then he shook his head in wonder. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  The other guards looked at them like they were a strange new classification of creature never seen before. A few wanted to shake Mercer’s hand. Another asked Cinder for her name. This time, she gave her Realm name without hesitation.

  “Where you folks staying?” one of the soldier’s asked.

  “Probably take rooms at the Shepard’s Bush,” said Mercer.

  “Can I buy you a round?” the soldier asked. “I’ll be off shift at sundown.”

  Mercer and Drake shared a glance. Mercer nodded. “That would be mighty kind.”

  The soldier’s face lit up like he’d just shaken hands with a president or some foreign dignitary, a celebrity even. Another soldier scooped his helmet off his head and bowed to Cinder. He was young and blond with boyish good looks. He smiled and said, “Can I ask the lady for a dance?”

  Cinder gaped. Before she could summon up an answer, the captain barked, “That’s enough. Let them pass. You lot act like you never see somebody run a simple dungeon before. Hell, I discovered Harper’s Folly back in the early days.”

  The good-looking young soldier winked at Cinder as she passed under the portcullis. She blushed and followed Mercer along a cobbled boulevard that ran between towering houses of dark stone. The entire city was one massive castle built from huge stones cut and fit together without need of mortar. The inhabitants had taken over the fortress, setting up shops and living spaces in every available nook and cranny.

  They passed through another arch into a vast hall that served as a market place. Cinder spied bolts of heavy cloth for the long winters, delicately worked silverware, finely crafted leather breastplates and saddles, and exquisitely crafted longbows. While Drake and Cinder stopped at a bank, Mercer and Trix went on ahead to see about rooms. Cinder had a suspicion they wanted some time alone. She understood, and at the same time it bothered her. She wondered, and not for the first time, how they had met and what the attraction was. But she didn’t dwell on it very long. Drake ushered her into a chamber with a low ceiling lit by brass blazers. Clerks stood behind a high counter, speaking to customers in hushed tones. They waited for an open teller and Cinder stepped up.

  “I guess I want to make a deposit,” she told the man behind the counter.

  He was older and balding, with a long droopy mustache. He cocked an eyebrow. “You guess?”

  “She’s new,” Drake croaked.

  “Obviously.”

  Drake said, “Keep a few hundred for yourself and give him the rest.”

  “But what if we don’t come back this way?” Cinder asked.

  “Madame,” the teller interrupted. “You may make a withdrawal from any bank in the Realm.”

  Drake said, “Don’t worry. Everybody in the Realm uses the banking system. It’s secure and you can even get to your money in the Real.”

  Cinder hoisted her bag onto the counter and handed over everything but three hundred Byte and the rubies. Those she kept. The teller cocked another white eyebrow at the piles of coin. He counted it with nimble fingers, and Cinder watched a ledger with her Real name, plus her social security number and date of birth, tally up the total automatically. It was neat to watch, like seeing a magical book that wrote in itself. When the teller finished, he scooped the coin under the counter and Cinder didn’t know where it went from there, but she had a suspicion it disappeared because she didn’t even hear the sound of rattling coin. But the ledger still showed her name and the proper figures.

  Drake deposited his money next, and when they had finished, they ambled through the market, looking at trinkets and shopping for heavy cloaks that would see them through winter. And again, Cinder suspected Drake was giving Mercer and Trix time alone.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Mercer dropped his saddlebags in the corner near the bed. Rooms at the Shepard’s Bush were cramped closets with narrow windows that looked out over the western courtyard and the Ethendale River beyond the ramparts. The bed was just big enough for one, or two sleeping close together, and smelled like mothballs. A single lantern flickered and spit in the corner.

  Trix closed the door, ran the bolt, and then threw herself at Mercer. He stumbled under the sudden attack. Her lips melted into his. She was already working the buckles on her leather armor with one hand. Her other hand found his belt and tugged.

  Mercer put his hands on her shoulders and gently forced her back. “Hold on a minute, will ya?”

  “It’s been a month,” Trix said, deftly slipping past his hands and nuzzling his cheek. Her lips closed around one earlobe and her fingers found their way inside his pants. “I need it.”

  Mercer felt his willpower crumbling. He forced her back again. “Not right now.”

  Trix took a step back, let out a breath, and said, “Is this about her?”

  “Who?” Mercer asked.

  Trix rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that. You know perfectly well who I’m talking about.”

  “Are you talking about Cinder?” Mercer said.

  “Oh my God,” Trix said. “You’ve got a thing for her.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mercer said.

  “Just admit it,” Trix said. “You’re into her.”

  Mercer shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I?” Trix said. “She’s young and innocent and needs big strong Mercer to save her from all the scary monsters.”

  “Don
’t be like that,” Mercer said. “She held her own in Eternal Night and you know it. Hell, we never would have walked out of there if not for her.”

  “So you are in love with her,” said Trix.

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Trix said.

  “Look,” Mercer said, “Trix . . .”

  She pointed a finger at the door. “Get out.”

  “Trix . . .”

  “Get out!” Trix screamed.

  Mercer grabbed his saddlebags, pulled the latch, and stomped out. The door slammed shut behind him and he heard the bolt ram home. A moment later, he heard her crying softly. He went down the hall to his own room and dropped onto the bed. To the empty room, he said, “Good job, Merc. Real good thinking.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  The Shepard’s Bush had more business that night than it normally saw in a month. Word had spread that Mercer and his companions had arrived in Citadel and furthermore, that they had run Eternal Night and lived to tell the tale. The common room was packed. A thick layer of pipe smoke made it hard to see more than a dozen paces. The innkeeper, a black man with dreads down to his waist, hustled around filling drinks. He had a baritone voice, a good laugh, and he was quick with a joke, but tonight he was too busy for chitchat. Two serving girls slipped through the crowd with jugs of wine and trays piled with food. The ripe odor of unwashed bodies and stale beer filled the air and made Cinder’s head reel. She was at a high table near the fire, enjoying her second bowl of stewed beef and carrots. There was also a loaf of bread with slabs of fresh butter. The fare wasn’t as good as in Tanthus, but after the long trek through Eternal Night, it might as well have been a feast at a five-star restaurant in the Real.