“That’s exactly right,” John said quickly, causing Rialta to turn around. He paused and offered Rialta his best feigned smile. “Look, I know we haven’t exactly started off on the right foot, but we’re going to be fine, okay?”
Rialta offered a vague smile in response.
“On my signal,” John said, holding up his hand to stall any further action. He turned to look beyond the boulder and waited for a moment when all the sheepstalkers were facing away from him.
“Now!” he shouted the moment the nearest sheepstalker faced away from them and turned to patrol in the other direction.
John began to run down the hillside to the left. To his surprise, Rialta did not hesitate to run down the hill to the right. She was running straight for the nearest sheepstalker, just as they had planned. Something within John—an intuition that he could not explain, but which he trusted implicitly—told him that it would be advantageous to attack the next nearest target and leave the closer one to Rialta. He turned his attention to the next sheepstalker, which was steadily sauntering toward the gate to the town in the distance.
“Fyorferbarne!”
John turned his head to the source of the incantation, then slowed to a stop, unable to believe what he was seeing. Rialta was standing with her wand outstretched, a grimace of righteous rage chiseled on her countenance. Electric arcs of crimson light surrounded her body, crackling and producing brief licks of flames all about her as she channeled the spell into her wand. In seconds, a massive ball of fire and embers hurtled from her wand, and slammed into the sheepstalker that stood before her. The beast didn’t even have the chance to see where the spell was coming from before it was incinerated on the spot. John had only a moment to marvel at the raw power of the spell. The resulting shockwave kicked up a cloud of dust so vast it swallowed the battlefield. He covered his face just in time to avoid getting dirt in his eyes.
Was that from Remmy’s blessing? Or just her? Or some combination of both of them?
There was no time to contemplate it further. John immediately took advantage of the chaos Rialta had created, charging forward through the cloud of dust and into the nearby sheepstalker camp. A stunned sheepstalker came into view as John approached one of the tents. It was looking around frantically for the source of the attack. His enemy in sight, John sprinted forward to press his advantage, but the sheepstalker had noticed him just in time. It raised its broadsword high over its head to strike, but John was too quick. He slammed a meaty fist into the sheepstalker’s jaw, and it stumbled backward with a roar. John would not let it recover or regain its defensive stance. In one fluid motion, he leapt forward while drawing his daggers. With a quick series of stabs to its chest, he dispatched the sheepstalker, and it fell to the ground in a twitching, huddled mass.
“John!” Rialta screamed from somewhere in the distance.
“What?” John shouted back between his now labored breaths.
“Where are you?” Rialta shouted.
John let out a mirthless laugh. “Busy stealin’ stuff,” he replied sarcastically as he clutched a stitch in his chest.
Without warning, another massive fireball went hurtling past John, missing him by only a few feet. It soared off into the distance where it eventually collided with a rocky hillside, blasting up another shower of dirt and debris.
All right, this is no good. She’s panicking.
John hurriedly searched the encampment and noticed a large wooden table standing beside one of the tents. He quickly took note of two sparkling short swords leading up against the table before he flipped it upside down, then kicked off one of its legs with an enormous crack. He took the table leg in his hand and turned to face Rialta’s position. Rialta and Remmy were shouting something at each other that he could not hear. He squinted as he searched the battlefield for the final sheepstalker. A pang of panic shot through him as he finally found it—it was sprinting directly toward Rialta, who was now sitting on the ground and bracing for the attack. He watched for a moment, silently willing Rialta to maintain her focus.
Come on. Don’t lose your head. Cast another spell.
It was no good. Rialta just sat there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, apparently in shock. The sheepstalker had its sword drawn for an attack. John immediately hefted the heavy table leg in his arms, swung around in a broad circle, and hurled the wooden leg like a javelin. He watched as the leg soared in a long arc before slamming into the head of the final sheepstalker, causing its blade to veer off course and land harmlessly in the dirt beside Rialta. The sheepstalker crashed to the ground, either dead or unconscious.
John let out a sigh of relief as he trotted back to Rialta, where he began his search of the lifeless sheepstalker.
“That went really well!” Remmy shouted as he ran down the hill toward John and Rialta. “Find anything good?”
“They had a couple decent blades in the little shelter over there,” John said, casually gesturing to one of the little tents in the distance, “but none of them are carrying anything worth taking.”
Remmy spared Rialta a curious glance as he came to a stop beside her, and he gave John an inquisitive shrug, nodding his head to Rialta. John took one look at Rialta’s stunned face and simply shrugged back at Remmy in response.
Remmy cleared his throat, then continued, “That’s a shame. Oh well. Nice work, everyone. Should we head on toward the Chasm?”
Chapter 11
Some Kind of Small-Town, Hick Idiot
Rialta opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden, loud noise cut her off.
The ground below Rialta’s feet began to tremble as the great gate in the wooden fence slowly began to open. Rialta, John, and Remmy watched in silence as a pale-faced, middle-aged man wearing long gray robes emerged from within the great wooden fence in the distance. He took a moment to eye the limp forms of the two remaining sheepstalkers, then the pile of ash that had once been the third one. His mouth dropped open in surprise. He took a few tentative steps toward the trio, then broke into a run, a broad grin creasing his face.
Rialta was glad to see that this man did not appear hostile, but she was wary all the same. This man, she thought, would surely expect them to speak whatever the local language was. Would he be upset when he inevitably discovered they did not speak it? Would he get offended if she attempted to communicate by miming?
She was so lost in these thoughts that she did not pay attention to the sound of Remmy approaching behind her.
“Hi there!” Remmy shouted, waving at the robed man.
Rialta was jolted from her thoughts, and she quickly grabbed Remmy by the shoulder. “Remmy! There’s no way he speaks our la—”
“Hello!” shouted the robed man enthusiastically as he slowed from his jog back into a casual walk. “Welcome, welcome! My name is Craig. I’m one of the stewards of the Chasm.”
“You can understand us?” Rialta asked, confused.
“Yeah?” Craig said as he came to a halt. “Why wouldn’t I be able to?”
“We’re not from around here,” John said. “I guess she’s just kind of surprised we all speak the same language.”
Rialta let out a resigned sigh and shook her head.
“Okay, what’s your problem this time?” John asked Rialta angrily.
“My problem is your complete lack of tact!” Rialta seethed. “We just met this man two seconds ago and you tell him we are not from here. What if he’s some kind of all-powerful mage whose job it is to annihilate outsiders?”
“…I’m not, though,” said Craig, but Rialta and John were too caught up in their escalating argument to notice him.
“You have not learned anything from our encounter with Jack, or our fight with the sheepstalkers just now. You are brazen and reckless!” Rialta shouted.
“Are you kidding me?” John said, folding his arms. “Look at Craig. He’s just some dumpy, balding forty-something guy in shabby old robes, and he came running out here to greet us with a stupid, goofy smile on his face. You
really think he’s some kind of super-assassin?”
“Okay. Ouch,” Craig said. “But—”
“And I don’t recall holding a knife to your throat when we all accepted that quest from Jack!” John yelled. “I’m not reckless, you’re just a coward. A precious little princess who—”
“I am not!” Rialta roared, drawing her wand from her belt and pointing it straight into John’s face. She felt a raw, uncontrollable rage tear through her. John went quiet, but he stared directly into her eyes, completely unafraid.
“Guys! Guys! Let’s all calm down!” Remmy shouted, stepping between Rialta and John. “Rialta, you’re not a coward. John was out of line. Please, just lower your wand, okay?”
Remmy’s words washed over Rialta, clearing away her anger. She took several deep breaths before nodding and putting her wand back into her belt.
“Good, good,” Remmy said calmly. “And John, Craig is clearly just some kind of small-town, hick idiot. Rialta shouldn’t have doubted your judgment.”
“Come on,” Craig said, his shoulders drooping.
“I think it’s fair to say that John was just a little stirred up from the fight, and Rialta was maybe still kind of upset because she was almost murdered a couple minutes ago. Would you both say that’s fair?” Remmy continued.
“Yes,” Rialta muttered.
“Fair,” John said.
“Okay, excellent,” Remmy said with a smile. “Are we all square now?”
Rialta and John nodded.
“All right,” Remmy said, turning to Craig. “Now, what was it you were going to tell us before?”
“I was going to tell you that there’s been an outstanding quest to rid the town of those sheepstalkers for the past three months, and that I’d be delighted to welcome you three to enjoy our town’s hospitality after presenting you with the reward money,” Craig said very quickly through gritted teeth.
“Oh! Great!” Remmy said. “Shall we head on in then?”
“Yes,” Craig said, his voice very low and hollow. “It would be my pleasure to show you in.”
Once they were inside the massive walls of the Chasm, Rialta noticed that the town was unusually similar to the smaller towns and villages she had seen on the outskirts of Laelynn. The roads were not paved, but cobblestone paths led through the more heavily trafficked areas. Vendors lined the streets, most of whom were either selling their wares from behind wooden stalls or directly from their carts. Houses of brick or stone made up the majority of the buildings, but there were also a number of established businesses, such as inns, pubs, and smiths, all of which were identifiable by the engravings on the simple wooden shingles they hung over their front doors.
Not ten paces into the town, they were immediately confronted with a small crowd of people bearing signs with tidings of welcome. At the front of the crowd stood a woman who Rialta supposed was in her thirties. She was tall with a burly build, and she wore her dark brown hair up in a tight bun. As Craig, John, Remmy, and Rialta approached, the woman produced a silver horn from within her cloak, and she began to raise it to her lips.
“Don’t bother, Lorenza, the welcoming’s been canceled!” Craig said, angrily stomping through the gates. There was a smattering of disappointed murmurs in the crowd as they began to dissipate. Lorenza simply shrugged, stowed her horn, and walked away, but not before she spared the Rialta a brief glance from over her shoulder.
Craig stopped at the edge of a cobblestone path and wheeled around on the spot. “Here’s your reward,” he said, reaching into his pocket before flinging a satchel apiece at John, Remmy, and Rialta in turn. “Welcome to The Friggin’ Chasm,” he said, with a very over-the-top flourish of his arms. “Best of luck to the three of you.” With that, he turned and stormed away into the town square. A light rain began to fall as Craig disappeared from their view.
“Thank you!” Remmy called after him.
“What the hell are these?” John said. He had already opened his satchel and was inspecting a small, transparent turquoise disc.
“Looks like it has been carved from some sort of crystal,” Rialta said. She began to shiver once more as the rain soaked into her cloak. “Must be the local currency.”
“I guess. Listen, I don’t know about you two, but I’m hungry and tired and I don’t want to do anything else today,” John said.
“What about H?” Rialta asked. “Shouldn’t we try to find him?”
“H can kiss my ass,” John said, looking about the town. “We made it to the Chasm, just like he asked. If he wants anything else before tomorrow, he can come find us. As for me, I’ll be over here,” he added, pointing to a large building at the end of the street. Rialta looked at the sign beside the building.
The Pampered Quail
Food, Drink, and Lodging for the Weary Traveler
“See that?” John asked. “I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m cold and wet, and I’m weary as shit. And I’m pretty sure I qualify as a ‘traveler.’ So I’m going to go in there to have some of that food and drink.”
Rialta stared at the inn for a moment. Large windows glowed with a warm, orange light which stood out in stark contrast to the gray clouds and ever-waning daylight outside. As much as she wanted to pursue the mysterious H, the promise of food, shelter, and comfort was alluring. “I suppose you’ve got a point,” she said.
“Agreed. Let’s head in, then. I’m starving,” Remmy said.
The three of them stepped through the front door of the Pampered Quail and into a short vestibule which was completely empty except for a large coat rack. John proceeded to open the door into the inn itself, and Rialta gaped in disbelief as they crossed the threshold into the inn’s lobby. Massive oak beams supported the internal structure of the inn. There were large archways to both the left and the right. The left side led into a large bar area, while the right side contained a dining area with booths, tables, and a number of very comfortable-looking chairs surrounding a blazing fireplace. The highly polished hardwood floor reflected the brilliant light of a crystal chandelier hanging high over their heads. Immediately in front of them was a reception desk, which at the moment appeared to be attended by a very young man dressed in a neatly pressed black uniform and a red necktie.
John led the way to reception without hesitation. “We’ll need lodging for three,” he said without introducing himself to the attendant. “Me and this one can share a room,” he added, and he nodded to Remmy. “But she’ll need a room of her own,” he continued, pointing to Rialta. “And how do we go about getting some of that food and drink you advertised outside?”
The young attendant looked perplexed by John’s direct approach, but he took it in stride, standing up straight and offering Rialta, Remmy, and John a warm smile. “Well, let me take each of your requests in turn, sir. We have a few vacant rooms. The larger rooms are on the second floor, and I’d be happy to reserve one for you and your friend. As for the lady, the smaller rooms are just up the stairs over here,” he said, turning and pointing to a staircase behind the dining area. “As far as dining is concerned, we’ll begin serving dinner in about half an hour.”
“Perfect,” John said. He reached for his coin purse.
“No need for that now, sir,” said the attendant.
“You don’t collect payment upfront?” John said, confused.
“Not if you intend on dining, sir. Payment can be remitted when you’ve finished your meal.”
John shrugged and put away his purse. “So how about those room keys then?”
“Er— before you head off to your rooms, is there anything else I can assist you three with?” the attendant asked with a crooked smile.
“I don’t think so,” Rialta said.
“Are you… are you sure, miss?” the attendant asked.
Rialta caught his eyes flitting back and forth between her eyes and her clothes. She looked down and finally noticed that her robes were covered in mud, grime, and soot. “Oh my,” she murmured. “Uh, sir, you wouldn’t h
appen to have—”
“Fresh, basic garments upon request,” the attendant said with a smile as he presented John, Remmy, and Rialta with wrapped parcels. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, miss. We see it all the time. And here are your room keys,” he said, offering Rialta a key labeled ‘107’ and John a key labeled ‘202.’ Please enjoy your stay.”
Chapter 12
A Night in the Pampered Quail
Equipped with the set of fresh, clean robes, Rialta jogged up the first flight of stairs to room 107. The room was certainly nothing spectacular. Worn wood floors ran the length of the room to the stacks of roughly cut logs which made up each of the walls. The room was lit by a lively, crackling fire across from the door where a large, uneven hearth connected to an ancient brick chimney. A small window was situated just above a down-stuffed mattress sitting atop an old wooden frame. Next to the bed stood a little table with a ceramic candleholder, a few used candles, and a handful of matches. A door on the left side of the room led to a very modest bathroom equipped with taps for a shower, a drain on the floor, and a toilet.
Rialta sighed. At least they have plumbing.
She considered taking a moment to lie on the bed—not to take a nap, but just to enjoy the relief of getting off her feet. As soon as she had removed her cloak, however, she caught a glimpse of the drying muck and grime plastered to her arms and legs from the earlier battle. She decided that it would be more prudent to take a shower before doing anything else.
∗ ∗ ∗
Upon exiting the bathroom, Rialta immediately noticed the wonderful smell of some unknown, savory food wafting up from the lower level of the inn. She had felt better already just from the act of showering, but she knew she needed food and a good rest to regain her stamina. She dressed in the dark wool robes provided by the innkeeper, and to her surprise, they were exceedingly soft, and not scratchy in the slightest. She found the sensation as welcome as being draped in a warm, comfortable blanket just before drifting off to sleep.
A Quest for Chumps (Departed Dimensions Book 1) Page 7
