by C A A Allen
“The Cave Maze.” The lines on the vellum weave in and out, patternless. I tried to follow one, but it turned into a different route that dead-ended. “Looks complicated.” I started over.
Raff broke my focus with a snap of his fingers. “Feste the Fool couldn’t have come up with a more confusing complex. Three levels are detailed here, one each per square. I will outline the routing needed to reach each of the five rooms I believe to have treasure.”
“What’s that in the fourth square?” I asked.
“Following this route completely will take you three levels deep before opening up to square four, it’s a secluded basin surrounded by forest and hills. It’s also where you’ll find Talhoffer’s compound.”
“This map shows the way to Talhoffer’s house? Where did you get this?”
“If they didn’t want us to make a map, they should have never removed those blindfolds. It took Mack and I only a couple trips back and forth to produce this. He made me promise never to sell it.”
“Way to go Uncle Mack.” I looked closely at the fourth square. “What is the compound like? Did you get paid a lot for performing there?”
“It’s not that impressive really, just a modest castle and small staff village with visitor lodging. Performing there made us a lot of gold, but the people were all too uppity for me. It was the after parties that made working for Talhoffer fun. After entertaining his guests, there was always a big grimy after party down in the staff village. Not only were Talhoffer’s workers there, but all his prestigious guest’s staff were there too. That is the place I found my original contact for huo-yao, it was one of Geber’s employees I was drinking with at an after party.”
“Where’s that man at now?” I asked. “We could sure use some huo-yao. You haven’t delivered for a long time.”
“The last time I spoke with him he said the hags bought it all. He can’t get any more.”
So the delay wasn’t my father’s fault. “What would those hideous hags want with huo-yao anyways?”
“Son, I bet you didn’t know that all hags are not ugly. Most hags are bluish-black she-devils that will suck the life out of any good man they can sink their snaggley teeth into. But every once and a while a hag is born looking like a beautiful human girl, they’re known as succubi. Of course the hag community doesn’t accept them, they lack many of an ugly hag’s abilities in the area of magic. The succubi are kept around as servants to the ugglys. I know for a fact that succubi are sent into towns to purchase things for the hags. You might have sold some chest-busters to one or two at the shop.”
“I don’t think so. If a hag came into the shop I would know by her stank breath.”
Raff leaned back in his chair, eyeing me with a smirk. “It’s true a hag’s breath smells like sweaty goblin ass, but a succubi’s is minty fresh. I’m telling you son, you would not know the difference between a succubus and a regular human girl. The hags send many of their succubi to work for Talhoffer. They live in the staff village and do everything for the man from cooking and cleaning, to assisting with his work.”
He looked at the bedrooms curtain and lowered his voice. “The girls down in that brothel don’t have a thing on the succubi—they are some true seductresses.”
“Please don’t tell me you had a relationship with a hag Dad.”
“Not a hag son, a succubus. After being oppressed by the ugglys they would really let loose at the Talhoffer after parties. I came to find out there is nothing haggish about them at all. I down low fell in love with a real fine one named Meridiana. She was one of the most beautiful girls I have ever laid my lucky eyes on. We would drink and dance all night long, then lie on the roof of Talhoffer’s highest tower and drink some more. Mack and I would perform at Talhoffer’s parties every sixty to ninety days, the gold we made was nice, but the best part of being there was hanging out with Meridiana. To this day she is the only girl whose loving was so good, she deserved an encore. Meridiana was your mother Raff.”
Ugh! “What?” I reeled back, too shocked to stay focused on the map. “I’m mixed with hag?”
I knew the stories. Hags slipped out of their skin and into men’s bodies while they slept. Once there they either pressed on your chest in an attempt to suffocate you, drove you insane with nightmares, or molested you to appropriate the species.
“Not hag,”—Riff rubbed a hand over his eyes—“Succubus. There’s a big difference between the two. Your mother was no hag at all.”
I put both hands on my head, leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling. What am I?
“I found out your mom was pregnant at one of the Tahoffer after parties. She wasn’t drinking so I asked her what was wrong, that’s when she told me. Sixty days later we came back to do another party and she was gone. The hags found out she had you, and took her back to their lair. They left you behind with the other succubi and instructions to turn you over to me.”
I covered my eyes with one hand and blew out my checks. “Does this mean I have some of a hag’s dark magic in me? If I’m half succubus, then I’m a fourth hag. Hags are magic users.”
“I suppose you could have some,” Riff said. “But don’t worry, it would be dormant. Only a full blood hag could activate the magic in you, and you would have to let her. No one will ever know if you don’t say anything, and you shouldn’t. People are horribly afraid of anything hag.”
No, really? Wasn’t my reaction proof enough of that?
The bedroom curtain ruffled.
Riff stood up. “I got to work some things out with my guests in the other room, you take this map and come up on some gold. Remember, stick to the five rooms I indicated, and above all else protect Tigress. You don’t want her getting captured by the orcs, they would do some obscene things to her.”
All I could think was hag, hag, hag. I was part hag. And Dad acted as though it was no big deal.
Riff rolled up the map, put it into the tube, and dropped it in the middle of the table. “All the best questing captains have had their maps for many years and keep them closely guarded. I have known some volatile captains that would just as soon kill anyone who caught even a brief unauthorized glance of their coveted map. Don’t show or tell a soul about what you got in this tube, they will kill you for it.”
I sat speechless with my fists clenched, and head tilted down. I had rotten hag blood in my veins. And magic. Not magic I could use, but stagnant, vile hag magic.
“Son, I know this is a lot to digest, but you need to know these things. Weird circumstances come up in the Maze, and now you’re ready for anything. I will be placing a large wager on questing captain Raff Jenkins and team Beeston as soon as it’s up on the board.”
I picked up the map, kicked my chair across the room, and opened the door. “Well don’t bother checking the board for captain Raff Jenkins. I’m changing my last name to one that isn’t hag-ridden, and can be respected.” I slammed the door behind me.
Up in my room I tucked the map deeply in my pack, and flopped down onto the bed. The hag blood seemed to burn through my body. What would my team think if they knew their captain was partially made up of the coldest quester killer, and worst demon the Maze had to offer? If it got out that I had hag in me my career in the Maze would be over.
Everybody hated hags.
Myself included.
I closed my eyes and put the pillow over my head. What should my new last name be?
PART II
“THE RUN”
CHAPTER 13
C-l-a-n-g! The heavy bell on top of King Heads announced the morning. Four more clangs sent spine-wrenching shock waves through our room.
I rolled out of bed and the first word to hit my brain was hag.
This is the last time I’ll think it, I told myself. And that was that. Raff Jenkins—or whatever I’d switch my name to—hadn’t changed. I was the same old me-a quester. A fighter. And, soon, I’d be a university student.
We joined several other questing teams at the stables taking
various means of transportation into Trosworth.
Chaz stomped his way over to us. “I can’t believe how much this ride is going to cost me, I mean us.” He stepped heavily toward a mule drawn wagon and waved us over.
The wagon was made of semi-rotten wood, and had four slouched mules hitched up to it. One of them had several bald patches with fly-covered skin abrasions.
“Our wagon is the ugliest of the fleet,” Tigress said. “And I think that mule has a skin condition.”
“This whole setup must have come extra cheap,” I said.
Dread danced a quick jig, froze, and pointed to his feet with both fingers. “I couldn’t give a damn, I’ll take anything over walking.”
We climbed onto the wagon. There was a moderate seven-man questing team, and a few young mercenaries on board with us.
A few well-established questing teams, including Castillo Gabbiano’s, flew out of Chilwell on horseback. Our wagon departed the stable at the same time as everyone else’s, but took the rear, breathing in the dust of those in front. Soon, we were so far behind even the dust preceded us. Our ride bumped and rocked upwards trough the Light Woods. In the distance the towering Hagridden Mountains, home of the Cave Maze could be seen. Periodically, questing teams traveled in the opposite direction, their wagons filled with beat down questers sporting long unhappy faces.
The Maze is still being stingy with its bounty.
With the sun overhead our wagon came to a complete stop. One of our mules collapsed and convulsed. Dread, along with several of our wagon mates help drag him to the side of the road.
When the driver approached the animal, and unsheathed his sword, I positioned myself to shield Tigress from the pending euthanization. She sat intently sharpening her daggers using a fine-grained whetstone. “I’m not trying to see that,” she said. “You know how I feel about animals.”
Chaz stood to watch the proceedings. “Useless beast of burden.”
I turned my head to check progress. The driver swung his sword to end the animal’s misery. Poor Patches, I think. With one less mule the ride is sure to be painstakingly slower than before.
As we got back on our trek Dread was not seated with us. He instead sat with his fellow mule-dragging friends near the front of the wagon. I hope he is gathering Cave Maze information, rather than hustling them. I leaned on Tigress and rested my eyes.
“Raff, Raff wake up!” Dread side-stepped down the center of the wagon toward me. “I want you to meet somebody. This is Chugalug, a thief who’s survived nine runs in the Maze. He’s given me some good advice on the questing game.”
Chugalug staggered over to us. He was an old soul with only one arm. The other one ended at the elbow, replaced by a carved ivory peg stump. He stood in front of me and quaffed what must be strong ale. The wagon lurched and hit a bump. Some of the emerald crystalline liquid in his cup splashed on my lap and the wagon floor.
Chugalug hiccupped. “This will be my tenth run in. When I come out, I will be an official journeyman on William Ladbrokes’ little tote board.” He tried to stand tall but the bumpy ride hindered him. He peered at his questing captain and cleared his throat. “It’s going to cost a lot of gold for this thief’s talents when I reach the journeyman level!”
He lost his balance and plopped down into the seat between Tigress and me. “Hold my cup for a moment would you friend?”
Chugalug angled his elbow up and then unscrewed a cap built into the stump. He poured more of the bright green liquid from the stump to the cup I held.
“Brilliant.” I said. “A very clever device.”
Chaz turned his head and cringed. “Very handy. It is always a good idea to keep your wine at arm’s reach.”
“What is that drink?” I asked
“This enchanted elixir is called the Green Fairy,” Chugalug said. “It’s my muse, and not for the faint at heart.” He smiled and winked at Tigress. “This concoction will give you the strength of a full-grown minotaur. You need to ask somebody about this drink right here.” He threw his head back and swallowed down half. “Ahhhh, now that’s the real mother’s milk.”
“So tell me Chugalug,” Chaz asked. “Did you lose that arm in the Cave Maze, or on a drunken stupor?”
“Let me tell you what happened boy,” Chugalug said. “I’m going to tell this story because I like your thief here, and it just may save his life. I found myself in a deep, moldy, stinking level of the Maze on a run. I had opened five chests with ease that day and had a bag full of gold. I was feeling real nice when I came across the chest that took my arm. It was ornate, and had Talhoffer’s crest, so I knew there had to be something good in it.”
He raised his eyebrows twice and took another swig of the Green Fairy. “I went to work on the lock right away and was able to open it quick.”
That should have been his first sign, but I wasn’t about to tell him. Any chest that could get open too quick was probably booby-trapped.
“The chest was half filled with crystal clear water. It had thirty or forty shiny gold coins at the bottom. I reached in to grab a handful when my team’s sniffer pounced in the room screeching. The warning was too late.”
He looked down at his stump, and then stared at Dread. “My body froze as a few dozen razor-tooth maggots materialized out the water and bored under my fingernails. They swarmed up my arm to my elbow when my questing captain acted fast. He sliced my arm off right there, keeping the maggots from getting into my body.”
Chaz shook his head. “I got to hand it to you thief, that’s quite a story.”
Chugalug dropped his cup and grabbed Chaz by the throat. A pointy sharp spike sprung out from his stump, he lined it up between Chaz’s eyes. “You need to kill the hand and arm jokes. Say another one and I’ll stick my nub where the wind blows fowl. You’ll doo nothing but elbow grease ‘til winter.”
“Chug!” his captain hollered. “Put that man down and come over here. It’s time to show your fallen brothers some respect.”
Chugalug let go of Chaz and joined his team. They knelt down silently and looked over the left side of the wagon. We rode alongside a wide unkempt field with several small broken tombstones.
I grabbed Chaz by his shoulders. “Chaz, we’re trying to get helpful information on the Maze from these people, not upset them. You need to watch your mouth.”
Dread laughed. “How’s your neck Chazzy?”
Tigress tapped my shoulder. “Look at the Trosworth cemetery,” she said flatly. “Not the place to be.”
Chaz rubbed his neck, it was red from the wringing, and had scratches from Chug’s jagged fingernails. “This is the perfect time for me to let you all know that burial expenses are not included in our finances.”
I sat back down. “No one on this team will be checking into that bone yard. We got a solid plan, and it all starts once we get into Trosworth.”
“Yes,” Dread said. “Once we finally get into Trosworth. These cheap old mules are too damn slow. I can’t wait to slide into that tavern. We can drink, gamble, and hire that magic user we need. I think they even have a doctor on the premises who can help straighten out Chaz’s scraggled neck.”
The other teams’ members bowed their heads. The captain did the same and led a prayer. “Thank you God for a safe trip thus far, and for the new friends we have made on this wagon. Please bless all of us here today with safety in our respective Cave Maze runs.”
I thought all questing teams were made up of selfish, uncaring, black-hearted killers, but maybe I was wrong. Chug offered us up a story that he thought could save Dread’s life, and not only did his captain take time to remember fallen members, but he prayed for the safety of us all. I gripped Tigress’ hand, lowered my head, and joined them in prayer from a distance.
* * * *
The wagon struggled down Trosworth’s high road. Many bustling businesses lined each side here. We conveniently stopped directly in front of Lais Dijon Tavern, the longest building on the road.
Dread jumped o
ff the wagon and stretched out his arms. “I finely get to strut into Trosworth as a bona fide quester! Come on team, let me show you around.”
As I helped Tigress off the wagon a beady-eyed man on the road waved to me. “Got them weapons! Got them potions!” He limped over to us with his head down and opened a long coat. Several items hung in rows on display including daggers, charms, and talismans. “This is authentic Cave Maze survival gear. I got exclusive maps too, check it out.”
Dread pushed Tigress and me in the tavern door. “Come on all ready.”
Once inside, he led the way. This was the biggest building I’d ever been in. One side had a pub with long tables and a few private booths. The other contained what they said was the largest gambling area in all of Broxington. Questers crowded both sides.
Dread turned around with a big smile. “This is not a loose party place like King Heads Inn, no prostitution here. This is a spot where serious questers and gamblers come together to do their worst.”
Dread took a right turn into the gambler’s side of the tavern. Five moneychangers had lines six patrons deep waiting to place bets. Several people played games of chance, including Hazard, but the biggest crowd stood studying the five tote boards that lined the back wall.
Dread stopped directly in front of the middle board, it was three times as big as the boards flanking it and ceiling-high. He held his arms out and looked it over from right-to-left. “This board contains odds and information on all questing teams entering the Maze.”
A young boy rolled a ladder to the boards far right. He climbed to the midpoint and adjusted the over-under number on a listing. A mixed reaction of grumbling and applause could be heard throughout the room.
“Yeeeeaah! Ha, ha, ha!” A nearby gambler sputtered. He weaved through the crowd toward the moneychangers, looking back at the board all the while. “That’s a bet Putnum! Don’t change that number!”
