The Wizard of Quintz: A coming of age LitRPG

by Ember Lane

  “See those mountains, Merl? Take a route directly to any of them, and you will always be on course for a refuge. When you’re going the other way, you have to do it in reverse. It’s a bit trickier, but there’s always the wisps.” He set his feet and thrust out his chest like he was about to begin the adventure of a lifetime. “Right, monsters in the grasslands include, but aren’t limited to: snakes, grasshoppers, ants, spiders, tigers, rabbits, buffalo, lizards—”

  “Just about anything then?” Billy asked.

  “Correct.”

  “Fan-bloody-tastic,” said Desmelda.

  Quaiyl dragged Mushroom out of the hole. A bunch of his cuts and scrapes had already healed, and he had a slightly green tinge about him. Frank headed off.

  “Keep your ears open and your eyes peeled. The good thing about monsters is that they are always huge, so you always get a warning.”

  “And I suppose the bad thing is also that they are always huge,” Desmelda added.

  “Indeed,” Frank said, and he equipped the Staff of Morrison White and began clearing the way. “It adds interest.”

  Interest? Merl wasn’t sure he liked that too much, but the Land of Orion, while daunting, certainly wasn’t unremarkable. Everything was big. The estuary had been huge, the river wide, the grass long, and the plains endless. Merl felt small, like he could hide away, and he felt peculiarly safe because of it. He wondered if, indeed, Quintz was the size of an ant’s toe, or whether Orion was merely huge, and the wizard’s city was a normal size.

  “Come on, boy,” Merl coaxed Gloomy out of the hole. The dune dog stuck his nose out and sniffed the air. “It’s okay, boy. They’ve all gone.”

  Merl equipped his old and trusty cleaver and began chopping at the long grass. Gloomy Joe trailed behind him, and Frank soon pointed out the peak they were aiming for, then let Merl take point. Mushroom made to hop after them but sailed high into the air before gently falling to the ground about twenty yards away. He tried to hop back but sailed over, once more. After the fourth jump, he got it right and landed by Merl, burped and burped again. “Bit too much bug,” he griped.

  “You should try walking,” Merl said, looking at Mushroom’s fledgling feet. Mushroom inched along a little but walked like he had leg irons on.

  “Not quite got it sorted, yet,” Mushroom grumbled, and sprang high into the air again.

  Merl chopped a path until sweat soaked him, his arms could no longer lift the cleaver, and his fingers couldn’t grip it. Hands on hips, he looked at the distant peaks and wondered if he’d made any headway at all, judging it to be late in the afternoon.

  “Not far now,” Frank said as he grabbed the cleaver and took over. “We’ll make a decent-sized village before dusk.”

  Merl stood on his tiptoes, yet he could see naught but grass and more grass. “Where?” he said.

  Frank shrugged and walked on. “It’ll be there, be around somewhere. Just watch for the grass to get taller and taller. No one likes to spend the night out in the open in Orion.”

  Merl made to answer, but the moment he did a metallic glint caught his eye, and then a sharp stabbing pain radiated from the back of his neck. Frank put his hands in the air. A spear poked out from the grass, its end resting on his temple.

  “No reacting,” Frank called, and received a poke for his troubles. “These are friends.”

  “There are no friends in Orion.” The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, whipping around Merl like a curious wind.

  “There always used to be,” Frank continued, unfazed by the spear at his head. “Orion was a place where weary travelers were always welcome, and hospitality was given with a mug of Clithadrial and not iron.”

  “That was before evil returned, before the singing trees were silenced. That was when the Lords kept the monsters in check, and the wizards walked the lands, rather than the hidden streets of Quintz.”

  Frank stiffened. “Evil returned?”

  “It has, and we can’t tell if you are it or not. Evil is guised as man, guised as woman.”

  “Please,” said Desmelda, “either let us pass or suffer my wrath. I’ve had a long, long day, and I’ve neither the time, nor the inclination, to stand here debating whether we’re good or evil—”

  Another dozen speartips shot through the tall grass, stopping and hovering right by them. The tall grass leaned in, reaching toward them and then binding each of their arms to their bodies. Merl spun around, looking to Quaiyl for help. The construct was untouched by the grass, but merely stood by, immobile.

  “It’s okay,” Merl said. “Don’t gather your magic, Desmelda, we are in no danger.”

  “How—” Desmelda cut her answer short.

  Merl unequipped his cleaver and the weapon vanished from Frank’s hand and appeared back in Merl’s inventory. “Quaiyl will kill them if they overstep. In the meantime, we will do as they say.”

  “The construct will do no such thing,” the voice said, and then a figure materialized from the grass. “My name is Pelleth. I will escort you to Hasmelere, where you can plead your case to Rithender. Construct or no construct, if she finds evil in your heart, then your journey will end here.”

  Merl did a double-took. Pelleth resembled Quaiyl to a degree. She had a human frame, but was taller and thinner, and her skin looked like it was made from woven strands of grass. She blended in exactly with her backdrop, the shades of her skin changing as the wind blew the grass behind her.

  “We accept your terms. You can put your spears down,” Merl said. “And you can unbind us.”

  Just as it looked like Merl might get his way, Mushroom sailed over the top of them, landing a few yards away. The spears instantly jabbed closer.

  “Don’t mind him,” Merl said. “He’s our… fungus.”

  Pelleth clicked her long, slender fingers. There was a sudden commotion, a rustling in the tall grass. Mushroom grumbled, griped, and cursed. Pelleth waited. The rustling quieted. “The… fungus… is no longer a threat.”

  “You haven’t killed him?” Merl spat, as Frank tensed.

  More of the grass people appeared. Mushroom had been bound to two spears and was being carried like he was on a canvas-less stretcher.

  “You,” Pelleth pointed at Merl. “You will walk up front with me.”

  Merl was about to defer to Frank, but his grass bonds unraveled, and she beckoned him forward. “Gladly,” he said, shoving past Billy, who stared daggers at him. “But if anything happens to any of them…”

  “Noted.”

  Merl still sensed no threat from Pelleth, and as they walked along he began to feel at ease in Orion for the first time. He guessed that these grass folks were as good as a guardian escort anyway, plus he always had that option up his sleeve if things should sour. Pelleth wouldn’t feel as calm and collected if she was suddenly surrounded by fifty constructs all ready to do battle. But it was Quaiyl’s inaction that reinforced his thoughts that all would be okay. Like Frank had said, the seer had indicated The Origin would always react if Merl was in danger. What he hadn’t clarified was whether that safety net extended to Merl’s companions, and that was the only worry in his mind.

  “You live around here?” The minute the words spilled from Merl’s lips, he realized how daft they sounded. “I mean, of course you do, but is it far?”

  Pelleth was quiet for a moment, but when she answered it wasn’t quite what he’d expected. “You’re new to leadership. It doesn’t sit comfortably on your shoulders yet.”

  “Oh, sorry, you’ve got that bit wrong,” said Merl. “I’m not the leader, Frank is, or Desmelda, not me.”

  “No? Are you sure about that, because all your companions protect you, and that is normally reserved for the leader or precious cargo.”

  “Definitely not the leader,” Merl stated, but didn’t see himself as cargo either.

  “But you are leading now,” she said matter-of-factly.

  The grass grew longer the farther they progressed. It was soon at shoulder height
. Merl tried to crane his neck to look around, but soon gave up and started looking into the grass the grass itself. He was surprised to find he could suddenly see where he was going, as many of the strands now split from common trunks the size of twigs. The land wasn’t flat, like it had appeared from above, nor was it just a plain grassland. Instead, it was a mass of undulations, divots, small furrows, and tiny hillocks all coated with moss, or small shrubs and tiny bushes. As the grass grew even higher, it became like walking through a thick forest. His field of vision lengthened. The other grass people became clear, marching along all around them. Gloomy Joe was wagging his tail too, as if the grass covering settled his mind now that it towered over him.

  “You have a dune dog, why?” Pelleth asked.

  “Well,” Merl replied. “Long story, and he’s not really mine, though it does seem that way sometimes. He had his foot stuck in a hole in the ground and a giant rescued him and gave him to me, and he’s been with me ever since.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Merl scoffed a laugh. “That’s easy. He gets fed all the time.”

  “I think it’s more than that. To answer your question, we are nearly there. The one called Frank, the one that smells of Quintz, was correct. No monsters will bother you while you’re in our village, but should Rithender find any of your companions bear Orion any ill will, you will see no more of the land. You nearly fell to the grasshoppers, yet we could have slaughtered them as easily as breaking a twig. We could have killed the snake in the blink of an eye. These are not idle boasts. We are the Finnan, we command the grass, and the grass outnumbers you by an infinite amount.”

  Merl had no reply for Pelleth. He had little idea what they’d judge as good or evil. For instance, would slaughtering endless hordes count for good or evil? Let alone all the other beasts that had fallen to his cleaver, firestone ax, and were soon to be cut down by his katana. Merl decided he could hardly be described as good anymore. But evil? He wasn’t too sure if he’d erred that far.

  There was the small shadow that Frank’s past had recently cast. Would the Butcher of Malinger Cross be classified as good? But surely Frank wasn’t evil? Frank had done nothing but focus on fighting Daemon Mercer. But was he just trying to scrub his heart clean? Merl had felt nothing but evil radiate from the dreadnail, true evil, and if that was a measuring stick, then he didn’t think any of them came close.

  By the time he snapped out of his musing, the tips of the thick grass were way above him. They’d been walking down a gentle slope while he’d been consumed by thoughts of good and evil. The grass trunks had grown fatter and now had countless stalks radiating from their tops and under, knots of woven, reed-like strands formed large bulbs shaped like garlic. They were scattered randomly about, but clustered in the same breath.

  “This is our village. You may breathe easier now, enchantments protect us from and incursion.”

  Where there had been a dozen huts, at least a hundred now surrounded them, and more of the finnan revealed themselves, their camouflage no longer hiding them, and walking toward Pelleth’s party to stare at Merl and the others. They came to a small river running through the base of the strange valley, and a larger-than-usual hut straddled it, an open doorway facing them.

  “That is our grand house. It is where Rithender waits. It is there she will seek her judgement from the ever-present eyes of Andula.”

  Pelleth headed straight toward it as more and more of the grass people appeared. They were all similar to her, featureless and mere shimmers of green against green. Yet as they looked at him, he sensed their concern, their curiosity, and their worry.

  Pelleth stopped before the hut. “You afford Rithander the respect her age merits. I will not tolerate anything else.”

  Merl held back a retort; instead, he flicked his hair back and straightened his stance. “You threaten a little too much for someone who has all the power. If I’ve learned anything, the truly powerful have a silent way about them.”

  “You have a brave tongue for one who is surrounded,” Pelleth replied.

  “We have been through many a hostile land to get this far. It would be a shame to battle with allies now that we’re here.”

  Pelleth tensed, and a number of the villagers closed in.

  As Merl was about to crack and summon some guardians, he heard a snap from behind. He spun around to see Frank now free, with his grass bonds on the floor. “I would see Rithender now,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than any blade.

  Pelleth stepped in Frank’s way as he walked forward. “She will see Merl, and then if she deems him pure, she will see the next of you.”

  “She will see me now. I invoke the Treaty of Quintz and announce myself as a wizard of that fair city.”

  Frank had suddenly grown in stature, and Merl was the Wizard of Quintz had stepped in. Merl’s stab at leadership had knotted his guts into a tiny ball and caused sweat to trickle down his neck. Pelleth shifted uneasily.

  “As is a wizard’s prerogative,” she finally answered. “But that treaty died when the wizards failed to protect us from Daemon Mercer. Thihandrial lays burned to the ground, and Filifimina suffered the same fate. The torches of man raze our villages and kill our folk. If your heart is black, you will not leave this place, and a proclamation of wizardry will not alter that. Any man can claim to be a wizard.”

  “Let him walk.” A figure emerged from wisps of trailing reeds that made up a doorway in the large hut. Merl assumed it was Rithender. She looked old, dried to almost cracking, and bent with the burdens of time. “Let him come. He doesn’t possess the magic to prove he’s a Wizard of Quintz, and his heart is stained with the black of a man who’s tasted bitter defeat. I know of only one who carries both things so badly, and he is Ricklefess’ boy.”

  Frank pushed past Pelleth, thundering toward the old finnan. “Did he come this way? Did he pass through here on his journey to Harrison’s Reach? Have you news of Ricklefess’ demise?”

  “Demise?” Rithender said, her sharp voice breaking.

  “He died aboard Wave Walker—aboard the giant’s ship.”

  “Alas, it is a black day. Ricklefess was a good man, a worthy servant of Andula, and a good friend to the finnan. Alas this day, the world is turning to black dust stomped underfoot by the cold hand of evil.” Rithender waved Frank in. “Come, all of you, come in. Pelleth, you too. You should hear this. One day, I will—”

  “You will live forever, Rithander,” Pelleth said, softly.

  “Not if Daemon Mercer’s torches blow their hot kisses toward my lands.”

  Rithander turned and walked back inside the hut. Frank strode forward, soon vanishing after her. Billy and Desmelda’s bonds popped.

  “If I vouch for Mushroom, will you set him free?” Merl asked Pelleth.

  “How can you vouch for him? You do not understand him.”

  “I… think I’m beginning to.”

  Pelleth snapped her fingers and then followed the others in. Merl ambled after, patting the side of his leg and ruffling Gloomy Joe’s scruff. “Come on, boy. Let’s get this over with.”

  The hut’s floor was made of interwoven and plaited grass, spanning the river whose burble filled the hut with its soothing melody. Frank, Billy, and Desmelda were all sitting facing Rithander and Pelleth. Quaiyl stood by, unmoving. All eyes fell on Merl.

  “The giants call him Half-Lord,” Frank said.

  Merl stopped in his tracks. “Please, not that nickname.”

  “Sit with me,” Rithander said. “It is an unexpected boon to sit with a descendant of the old lords. Tell me, what future lies ahead of you? Do you even have one? Surely Daemon Mercer will try and thwart that and cut you down. Come, sit, sit, we must rescue what we can from the ashes of Ricklefess’ demise.”

  Merl ambled over, sitting at Rithander’s side. “My future very much depends on who will help me grow,” Merl said, hardly recognizing the words as his own, or any of his recent ones, for that matter. “So far, I’ve be
en lucky. I’ve had Billy, Frank, Desmelda, and the giants. That’s not to mention Quaiyl, Stobart Torped, the seer, Melody and Mushroom. But I get the feeling I’m gonna need a whole load more if, like you say, I’m going to survive Daemon Mercer’s beady eye.”

  Rithander nodded. “Daemon Mercer’s men are already here. They are led by a dormerbeast who has a dozen dreadnails under his command as well as a legion of styxfighters mounted on jessops. They tear this land apart looking for Quintz. We wondered why. Perhaps they are looking for you. Perhaps they are trying to prevent you from getting to Quintz. While they hunt, they sack ruin after ruin trying to uncover talismans. You will do well enough to survive now, let alone when Daemon Mercer’s fleet comes.”

  “What of the zombays? Are they here?” Merl asked.

  “Yes, what of that?” Frank suddenly said. “Did Ricklefess get it here? He had it by the time Stormsurfer collected him.”

  “Alas no. When he stayed here, he had the look of a man that was haunted, but I sensed no sickness in him. He was a man with the shadows of fear under his eyes. His hands shook and his lips trembled. Something was chasing him, though it wasn’t dreadnail or styxfighter.”

  “How long did he stay?” Frank asked. His voice soft now, as if to shout would snuff out her words.

  “Barely time to recoup his shallow breath. We fed him, gave him water and Clithadrial. We also tried to offer him council, but he didn’t even allow us that. The great wizard had already left his body, and all that remained was an old man seeking out his salvation, and that salvation was you, Frank.”

  “He never made it,” Frank said, his shoulders slumped. “And now his message is lost.”

  “We can only surmise that his words concerned Quintz and not Orion as a whole. Had they meant the land, then surely he would have shared his story with us and enlisted our aid. No, you must look for your answers in Quintz, wizard. Whatever has happened in the hidden city, it is dire indeed. Ricklefess was well known among the finnan as a true Wizard of Quintz, not one of the pretenders that hide within its spell. Perhaps he suffered some awful consequence between here and the giant ship. Or maybe he was followed by bad agents from Quintz?”