“You seem to be close to the princess—”
“Priestess,” she corrected curtly.
“Whatever. You two are close.”
“And you want to know if she talks about you.” Hanna rolled her eyes. “Typical.”
“Actually, I was going to ask how she’s doing. She was pretty broken up about my departure, and it sounds like she did some pretty drastic shit, calling off the wedding and all.”
“The truth is Eva loves you.” Hannah regarded me despondently. “When you left, it broke her heart.”
“It did?” I didn’t know whether to be happy or bummed out.
She nodded, looking sad, but then she cracked up.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was jesting with you,” she said and covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was a cruel joke to play.”
“Yeah.” I looked away to hide my anger. “Kind of a dick move.”
“Not sweeeet,” Doughboy added from my shoulder.
The land on either side of the road was a long flat ocean of green grass dotted with random wildflowers. There were perhaps four hours until sunset; Thodin’s eye lingered in the west, a giant ringed marble playing peekaboo with the clouds.
“I’m sorry, Sir Jake. I shouldn’t have played with your heartstrings like that. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about the priestess. I only know what she told me, and she thought she meant nothing to you.”
“The princess knew damn well how I felt about her.”
“Felt?”
“Feel, whatever. You know what I mean.”
“Did you ever tell her how you feel about her?” She arched a brow.
“No, I guess not. But some things don’t need to be said.”
“Sometimes those things do need to be said.”
“Tell me again why you’re playing love doctor for a relationship that no longer exists? I mean, Eva didn’t even care that I was right outside her tower.”
“She cared.”
“She had a funny way of showing it.”
“She was under a lot of pressure from her family. Traditions are the backbone of Zenfindel, and to go against popular belief, well, it was no small thing for Evangeline.”
“It’s in the past. Let it rest a while.”
She pointed at the fork in the road. “Our path lies to the left.”
We turned, and in the distance a forest grew out of the green plains. The ground began to rise and fall gently, and stones peeked out from under mounds of earth covered with small white flowers.
“These are the Fields of Dying,” she said when she saw my interest.
“Are those mounds…?”
“The graves of fallen heroes, yes.”
I tried to count them, but it would have taken me days. “What happened here?”
“They say that twenty thousand men lost their lives fighting off the monstrous hordes from the Badlands. It was an age ago, but we remember.”
“How far back does your history go?” I asked, wondering again why there were humans on this planet.
“Five thousand and fifty years,” she said, gazing upon the graveyard of white-flowered mounds.
“What happened at year zero?”
“What do you mean?”
“What event kick-started time here?”
“Oh. Our arrival on this planet, of course.”
“Of course? That’s not something you hear every day. Where did you arrive from?”
“No one knows.” She clicked her tongue and snapped the reins. “This place makes me sad. Let’s give the horses a chance to play.”
She was a beauty, with ringlets bouncing on her shoulders, and other pleasant things bouncing along with them. She’d been sitting side-saddle, but now she swung one long leg over the horse and gave an excited yip.
“Come on, Stud,” I said in the horse’s ear. “Let’s not let a couple of girls show us up.”
I might as well have said “last one to the ladies gets no ass,” because that horse took off so fast, I was left white-knuckling the saddle horn and fighting to stay mounted.
We shot across the gravel road, leaving a trail of dust in our wake. When I had almost caught up to her, she steered down a narrow dirt path that wound around a large pond, wild and untended, lined with gnarled blue trees with long, purple, old man’s beard hanging from the boughs.
I could have sworn I saw a mermaid watching as we sped by, but the world was a blur of laughter, exhilaration, and a keen sense of freedom.
She finally pulled up and regarded me with sparkling eyes wet with tears caused by the wind. “Not bad for an Earthling.”
“Where did you learn that word?”
“From Evangeline.”
“Then she does talk about me!” I said and pumped my fist triumphantly.
She laughed and guided her horse through a wide stone gate. The sign above it read Myrwood Manor.
When I passed through the arch and beneath the low-hanging tree beards, the wind caught them and cast them aside, revealing a long stretch of brown hills, burnt buildings, and dead fields. A lake sat at the center, fed from the east by a river barely visible through the distant trees.
“This place must have been incredible once,” I said low and painfully.
“It was.” She reached across the distance between us, our horses nearly bumping each other, and rubbed my arm. “It can be once more.”
“I don’t know. How long does it take salted fields to recover?”
“Perhaps if you prayed to Celesta, she would make your land fertile once more,” she suggested.
“Perhaps, and perhaps she’ll tell me to get lost.”
We dismounted and scoured the ruins for a while, but there was nothing left of value. Even the dusty bottles of wine in the cellar had been smashed, which told me this hadn’t been the work of looters.
“How far did you say it was to Lord Berdink’s place?” I asked.
“I didn’t. Besides, we don’t have time. It is in the opposite direction.”
“Well when this is over, I’m going to fuck that dude up.”
“Charming.” She got back on her horse. “Shall we continue? There is nothing for you here, and we need to head out if we want to make the next town before midnight.”
“What happens at midnight? You turn into a frog or something?”
“Past midnight we won’t be able to get a room. I have no intention of sleeping outdoors if I don’t have to.”
I laughed. “And you want to explore the Badlands?”
Doughboy chortled and high-fived me, and with one last desolate glance at my destroyed manor, I mounted up and followed Hannah.
We continued down the road long after sunset. I did most of the talking; Hannah kept asking me about myself and Earth. She seemed enthralled by my home planet and how much it sounded like Tarth. I was keen to the similarities as well, but when I pressed her about her people’s history, she gave me a half-assed answer and steered the conversation back to Earth.
I was pretty hungry by the time we reached the nearest town. It was a quaint little village called Willow Wood. There was a church dedicated to Thodin, a blacksmith shop, a bakery, a pub, stables, and a town hall on the main drag. Scattered elsewhere were small waddle and daub houses and farms. Like most villages, a river ran through Willow Wood, aptly named Willow River.
“Okay, Doughboy, into the backpack. You know how people freak out when they see you.”
“Not sweeeet,” he grumbled sleepily.
“I’ll make it up to you, bro.”
He groused some more as he climbed into the backpack, but two seconds later he was snoring softly.
We rode to a pub called the Brass Horse Tavern. It was a two-story place made of gray brick with thick beams jutting out in places. Upon the beams sat low burning lanterns. Two big bay windows offered a foggy look inside, where the flicker or fire send silhouettes dancing languidly.
“We should still be able to get a decent meal at this hour,” Hanna s
aid as she dismounted.
“Any chance they have beer?”
“Does a horny duck drag his dick through the grass?”
I nearly laughed my ass right out of the saddle. “Boy, you’ve got a mouth. Since when do handmaidens talk like pirates?”
She tied her horse by the trough. I secured mine as well and followed her through the big wooden door. The pub was rustic and stained a dark red color. It smelled like pipe smoke and Guinness, and I liked the place immediately. There were about a dozen patrons, mostly men, and they all turned their heads when we talked in. The lot of them looked like they were from the south, and half of them talked like a bunch of hillbillies to boot.
I felt a little foolish, carrying my big-ass pizza shovel into a pub, but I wasn’t about to leave it outside for some drunk to steal. Besides, the looks I got were priceless.
We sat at a round table in the corner near the fire. It had been chilly out there on the road, and with the light clothes beneath my armor, I was cold. Why hadn’t the goddess summoned me one of those sweet Jon Snow cloaks made of god knows what that looked like it weighed a hundred pounds and smelled like Chewbacca’s ball bag?
Hannah hadn’t suffered like I had. She had a fur cloak, warm gloves, a hat, and you guessed it, boots with fur.
“By the gods, it’s warm in here,” she said as she peeled off her many layers.
I offered her a withering glance that she missed, busy as she was shedding her yeti furs.
While we waited for someone to serve us, I scanned the room and got a better feel for the crowd. There was an old man at the end of the big U-shaped bar, babbling incoherently, to the great amusement of some younger men about my age. There were four of them, and they looked like northern NY farmers, straight-backed and wide-shouldered, muscular, and ready to laugh at the drop of a dime. A man sat alone on the far side of the room, deep in the shadows. As I watched him, I thought if I looked up glum in the dictionary, I would see his sourpuss mug, eyes to the ground, face lifeless. Even his ears looked sad, drooping under some invisible weight. A couple of young lovers in the center of the room talked close and smiled way too much at each other. Closer to me and Hannah was a pair of middle-aged men caught up in some kind of card game that looked boring as shit. Then there were two dudes sitting at the end of the bar opposite the old man and the farmer boys; they kept their backs to us and seemed to be enthralled with their food and drink.
Nothing to worry about, I told myself, unless those farmer boys got bored and wanted to pick a fight, but I wasn’t too worried about them. I had an enchanted pizza shovel, not to mention a face-eating sentient wad of dough. They were also pretty drunk.
Within two minutes of our arrival, a plump middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks hurried over, acting all busy, though I didn’t know why. There was hardly anyone in the place.
“Whatcha want?” she asked hastily.
“Beer and food,” I said in the same manner.
She scowled at me. “All we’ve got is today’s stew, but it’s cold. The stoves have been off for hours.”
“You make your own bread here?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Then you must keep the ovens stoked through the night.”
“And?”
“And you could put our bowls of stew in the ovens and warm them up for us, I imagine.”
“I imagine I could, but that don’t mean I’m gonna. The place is dying down. Why do I want to go and warm up food for you?”
I glanced at Hanna. “You guys don’t have Yelp here, do you?”
“Yelp?” she said perplexed.
“I tell you what, miss—”
“Tresha.”
“I tell you what, Tresha. You do that for me, and I’ll give you a big tip.”
She looked me up and down and arched a brow. “What if I want the whole thing?”
Hannah burst out laughing, and Tresha finally showed us her smile. It’s amazing how getting someone to smile changes a person.
I laughed with them. “I mean a monetary tip. You know, a gratuity?”
“I’ll take the tip,” Tresha said to Hannah against the back of her hand, like it was a secret. Tresha seemed to like having an audience.
“You two are perverts.” I shook my head at them both. “Heat up our damned food for us, and not only will I give you the tip, but I’ll throw in some family jewels for you to play with too.”
That made her howl, and suddenly she was my best friend. “I’ll get that in the oven for ya, sugar. Want a drink to wash it down? You said beer, right?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“And for you, curly?”
“Table wine, if you have it,” said Hanna.
“If we have it?” Tresha chuckled and touched my arm. “Girl, does a pirate have crabs?”
Tresha chortled like a drunk chain-smoker who’d just watched someone walk into a wall and slapped me playfully on the shoulder. Then she waddled her ass back behind the bar and disappeared into the kitchen.
Hanna and I shared a befuddled look.
“Some colorful characters around here.” I scanned the place again and noticed that the two dudes who’d been sitting with their backs to us were now speaking close and quick and glancing over at us every other second.
“Those guys look like they know us.” I nodded toward the men at the bar.
Hannah turned toward them, and they promptly went about acting like they hadn’t been looking our way at all.
“Why did you look?” I asked.
“You told me to,” she said.
“No I didn’t. I said it looked like they knew us.”
“Okay, well, how am I supposed to know who ‘those guys’ are if I don’t look?”
“What was that voice you just did? Was that supposed to be me?”
Her green eyes glinted. “What about them, anyway? They aren’t looking at us now.”
“I think they know who I am. I just hope they don’t bother us until after we’ve eaten. I’m friggin’ starving.”
Tresha brought us our drinks and some bread, and set it on the table with a smile. “The bread’s fresh baked this morning, and I put it in the oven for a minute for you. I’ve got butter or strawberry jam if you want it.”
“Butter would be great,” I said warmly.
“Well then, go on, try the beer. Me and my boy brew it onsite.” She put her hands on her hips, pushed out her big breasts, and waited.
I eyed the ale, which was honey brown and bubbly. I gave it a sniff and smelled hops. I brought it to my lips and took a long pull. “Mmm, this is damn good. Does this come in small barrels?”
“It sure does, and you’re in luck, because I’ve got but one left of this batch.”
“You mind reserving it for me? I’d love to take this on the road with me.”
“The road, eh?” she glanced at us both with newfound interest. “Where you headed?”
“To visit an old friend,” I said and took another drink.
“Barkeep!” someone slurred. It was one of the farmer boys. “Get Gedrick another drink. He’s getting tired.”
“You leave that old man alone!” she yelled at the lot of them. “You’ll give him a damned stroke, egging him on like that. And don’t be asking him about the war no more!”
She turned to us with an apologetic frown. “Your food’ll be right up, I’ve got my boy, Gerson, working on it right now.”
She hurried off to give the farmer boys a talking to, but five seconds later she was laughing with them and shaking her ass.
The food was brought to us piping hot, and the smell drifting up with the steam made my stomach ache. Hannah had an appetite as great as mine. She spooned that food into her mouth as fast as I did and cleaned the bowl with a piece of bread when she was done. Tresha had brought a small pot of the stuff to the table, and as I was scooping us both another helping, the two red-headed ruffians approached our table.
I stood to greet them, my trusty pizza shovel leaning against the wall
within arm’s reach. They eyed the weapon as they approached, but they didn’t look like they wanted any trouble. They carried weapons, and I guess they could have suddenly bum-rushed me if they wanted to, but I didn’t get that vibe from them. Besides, they were both redheads, and they didn’t look like brothers, which led me to believe they were part of Clan Black, or used to be.
“Evening, gentlemen,” I said and turned to block their view and access to Hannah.
They stopped immediately, and the taller of the two almost bowed.
“Sorry to disturb you,” said the shorter, thicker one. “But are you Jake Baker?”
I checked to see if the name meant anything to anyone else, but none of the other patrons seemed to have heard, or else they didn’t care.
“What if I am?” I asked evenly, eyeing their sheathed blades.
They wore what I assumed to be adventurer or sell-sword garb: thick leathers with chainmail showing at the creases, long cloaks, daggers, swords, and heavy boots.
“We would like to sit and have a beer with the man who saved our sister’s life,” said the short one.
“Sister?”
“S-S-Scarlett,” said the tall, fidgety one.
“Have a seat.” I said.
Hannah moved my stuff over to her side, and the two men sat down.
“Name’s Gray Brown Black,” said the shorter of the two. “And this is Baby Blue Black.”
“Sh-sh-shut up,” said the tall one and extended his hand. “B-b-blue Black, at your s-s-service.”
“This is Hannah,” I said with a gesture at the handmaiden.
“Well met.” She sipped her wine, eyeing them suspiciously over the rim.
Tresha returned, and I ordered another round for us all. “How do you know who I am?” I asked the two men.
“S-S-Scarlett’s s-s-stories,” Blue said patiently.
“She wouldn’t shut up about you for weeks,” Gray confirmed. “Tall, dark, handsome, carries around a thin enchanted axe. Travels with a magical wad of dough that eats monster faces.”
Monster World 2 Page 3
