Darcy pushed open the barn doors, and the smell of dry hay and horses wafted over them. Suddenly, Sally became so angry and miserable, she didn’t know whether she wanted to throw herself on the hay weeping or go back and knock out every one of Stinky Pete’s teeth.
“It’s not worth fretting over,” Darcy said laying a metal gloved hand on her shoulder.
“If I had known that being a half-elf was such a sin around here I wouldn’t have chosen it as a race,” Sally muttered.
“If I had known I was going to be trapped in this game I never would have played it,” Mina commented dourly.
“Sally, listen, don’t get yourself in a funk over it.” Darcy’s face was grim with eyes carrying both concern and pleading. “You can’t go hide away in your apartment and play video games until you feel better. I need you with me, okay?”
Sally wanted to be angry with her stepsister, wanted to scream in her face and even hit her, but that would be childish, and Darcy was right. She nodded, “Alright, I’m with you. I’ll be alright.”
They found a clean stall with fresh hay and spread out their bedrolls. Though Sally was tired, it seemed that none of them were able to fall asleep quickly.
It took Darcy a while to figure out how to remove her armor and set it aside in a neat stack in the corner, Sally offered to help but Darcy wanted to get the hang of it for herself. Once free of it, Darcy stretched her limbs and twisted at the waist to pop her back, while stating that moving in armor was like wearing a trash can. A white tabard with a sun crest embroidered on the front almost gleamed silver in the dim light of the stables. It was thin and hung down the front and back between her legs.
Then Darcy began examining and feeling her own hard muscles beneath a brown skin. Her long hair lay over her shoulders like dark curtains. And she wasn’t the only one examining her body.
Sally noticed that Mina was staring at her bodybuilder body. She was still feminine, despite broad, rock-solid shoulders. And judging by how she kept staring and cupping her chest, her current breasts were bigger than those of her old body.
For her part, Sally was flexing, finding her new limber body much more mobile and agile compared to her previous one. Not since her prepubescent years did she have a flat stomach and trim hips. When Sally hit her teenage years, the pounds went straight to her hips and thighs. She had gone through years of failed diets and workout routines where weight was lost, but then regained.
Darcy looked over at her as she did stretches. “Sally, remember that restaurant where we waited for two hours to get our food?”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t let me leave a tip.”
“Right, but remember how tables that were seated after us were getting served first,” Darcy sat down on her bedroll and pulled off her boots. Her feet were covered in hosen, long knee-length socks that itch.
“It took the waiter a long time to get our food.”
“No, it was because he was racist. He didn’t want to serve a black girl.”
Was that right? Sally paused her exercises. The waiter hadn’t smiled when he seated them and he had spoken very curtly. It was nearly thirty minutes before he returned with their drinks and took their orders. Sally had thought it was because the restaurant was so busy or the waiter was new and having trouble, so she had remained patient and polite while Darcy, who was usually impatient and vocal, sat silently glaring at the waiter whenever he passed their table. He never came by to apologize for the wait nor to refill their drinks. The ice cubes in their glasses became water by the time their food arrived.
Several times, Sally had suggested getting up and going somewhere else, but Darcy told her they weren’t leaving. When the waiter finally brought their food, Sally had thanked him, but Darcy angrily ordered him to refill their drinks right now, or she was going to complain to a manager. The waiter’s face turned bright red, and he promptly refilled their glasses and kept them full until they finished eating. Sally’s mother, having once been a waitress, taught her to always leave a tip, no matter how bad the service. When Sally laid a five-dollar bill on the table, Darcy scooped it up and shoved it back into Sally’s hand, and told her to keep it.
Why hadn’t she noticed it back then? Was she so self-absorbed that she didn’t see her own sister being abused? “I’m sorry I didn’t realize that was happening.”
“Being a white girl in the US, you’re not really experienced with shit like that,” Darcy said, picking straw from the bottom of her hosen socks.
Sally snorted, “Try being a fat girl in the US.”
“Or an Asian in college,” Mina added. “When I get the top grades in class people think it’s because I’m Asian, that I’m super smart. They don’t think it’s because I put in the work and studied while they went out partying and drinking.”
“And now look at yourselves,” Darcy said, holding out her arms in a presentation. “Sally’s a supermodel, Mina looks like she ate a steroid-pumped quarterback, and my hair is straight, but at least I’m still black.”
“And a holy savior of the people,” Sally said, rolling her eyes.
***
Darcy was delighted to see Sally was in the humor for mockery. Knowing her half-sister well, Darcy felt that before long she would enter a depression slump. But they didn’t have the luxury of being able to spend time moping. They needed to figure out how to get home and be alert for any dangers in this world. She knew this world better than her own bedroom and was quite aware of its many dangers. The Lair of Tears was only a tutorial dungeon and didn’t light a candle compared to the real risks out there.
The village was supposed to be a safe zone where players could buy items and receive quests, but Darcy had the ill-feeling that this was no longer the case. Things were different, as proven by the blacksmith not selling weapons and the innkeeper’s blatant racism. It was like going into your home and finding the furniture had been rearranged. And laid with traps. She was confident she could guide Sally and Mina in this world but doubted she could keep them safe. Sally had great stats and therefore great skills for a new build. But Level 1 was still only Level 1. Those stats meant very little unless she could survive and realise their potential. And Mina, while being easy on the eye, was liable to wreck Darcy’s head with her inability to adapt to the game.
An urge to yawn broke into her thoughts, and Darcy gave in to the fatigue. For now, they needed rest to be ready to take on whatever the morning would bring. Hopefully, somewhere there were others from the real world who had a better idea of what was happening and whom they would find soon.
***
Sally managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, but it was hard to get comfortable. The straw kept scratching her arms, and the woolen bedroll itched. Being thin made it easier to curl up in a ball, but even that unusual position unnerved her and kept sleep at bay.
When she woke up again, it was due to the pressure in her bladder. The ale she drank was ready to make its reappearance. Oddly enough, there was plenty of light in the stables. Sally could see clearly as if an overhead light was on, but there were no sources of light. Then she remembered having low-light vision which would make it easier to go to the…
“Well, damn,” she whispered, realizing the chances of there being a bathroom around here were slim to none. There might be an outhouse or a latrine, but seeing how the innkeeper didn’t want her sleeping in one of his beds, then he might not want her to use the same toilet as his customers.
Darcy slept alongside one wall of the stall, and Mina was propped against the opposite side with arms crossed over her stomach. Moving slowly, Sally rose without disturbing them. There was no whisper of straw being disturbed or her boots scuffing the dirt as Sally left the stall and went outside. It was eerie being able to see so well outside, just as when she sneaked around the kobolds. She could see everything clearly, as if it were a bright sunny day instead of the middle of the night.
The thought of sneaking into the inn and using their indoor toilet came to her. Being a Rogue, sh
e could pick the locks and be in and out before anyone knew she was there. Why should she squat outside when she could just as well use the toilet in the inn?
No, she couldn’t do that, the more sane part of her psyche pointed out. The innkeeper would go crazy.
But why not? A rebellious, angry part declared. His racism still hurt, and she would certainly get the last “word” on that.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she was already taking her thieves’ tools out of her hidden pocket and heading towards the inn. The lock was a breeze to pick; she barely stuck the lockpick into the keyhole before it clicked open. The large room was empty, as all the customers had gone home for the day or perhaps were upstairs asleep. Without a creak from the floorboards, Sally explored the downstairs part of the building.
As tempting it was to tamper with the barrels of ale behind the bar (like poking little holes low down and letting them leak overnight), Sally decided against it. Knowing how much of a racist he was, Smiley Pete would lay the blame on her, and he would be right to do so. No, better not give in to temptation and just find the bathroom. Her bladder wasn’t used to having to wait so long.
Eventually, she found a chamber pot in a closet in the kitchen. She grimaced, imagining the cook taking a bathroom break right in the middle of the kitchen and then going right back to cooking. Mina must never know. After relieving herself, she slid the chamber pot back into the closet with her leavings inside. Let them clean up after her.
Rinsing her hands in cold dishwater in a basin, she heard voices. At first, it was just a murmur she could barely hear and then the creak of heavy footsteps on wooden stairs. She ducked down beneath a table and listened intently. The voices became louder as the footsteps left the stairs and moved across the main hall.
“The three of them should be sleeping in the stable,” a man’s thick voice said.
“All three are travelers? Have they been in the village long?” another voice asked. This one was raspy, as if the man had been smoking since high school.
“The Cleric, Sister Korra, was seen around the village yesterday, but no one has seen her companions before today—a tribeswoman and an elf.”
They were talking about Sally and her friends! If it were possible to sink into the floor and hide, Sally would have. She held her breath, fearful she would give herself away just by breathing too loudly.
“If they’re asleep, then we can take them away without a fuss, and you can say they left before the dawn.”
“And my pay?”
“You’ll get it tomorrow.”
Sally stayed very still until the men left the main room, their footsteps pounding in her ears. One headed upstairs, and the other went outside; she could hear his feet scraping the stone steps. Even when the footsteps faded away, Sally was still too afraid to move. What if they came back? What if they heard her and came after her?
A voice inside her head ordered her to go warn Darcy and Mina, but terror immobilized her. Never before had she known such fear. No one had ever wanted to physically hurt her and now she understood how the girls in the horror films felt when they hid from the killer.
Darcy needs you! Get your ass out there and help her, the voice in her head screamed.
Yet, she still couldn’t or wouldn’t move. She couldn’t imagine life outside of that medieval kitchen which had become her safe place. If she stayed here until morning, then…what? What the hell was she going to do by herself in this world without Darcy?
Get up, get up, get up!
Slowly, she rose and nearly ducked back down again when she remembered she had left her rapier dagger behind in the stables. Who needed weapons to use a bathroom? How the hell was she to defend herself and help Darcy and Mina without a weapon?
Waitaminute. I’m in a kitchen full of knives!
And sure enough, there was a rack of knives on the wall. Sally picked one up and weighed it before putting it back and taking another one. She didn’t understand why it mattered how the knife felt in her hand, but it did. If the knife didn’t weigh just right, then she couldn’t handle it correctly, especially if she threw it. Threw it? She knew how to throw knives?
Sally selected three knives that felt right, not perfect, but they would have to do and left the kitchen. With a hammering heart, she went through the main hall and a side door that had been left ajar. Sally opened it with just enough space to slip through, staying close to the wall and using the shadows as camouflage.
She could hear other people creeping across the grass. Their feet scuffed the surface and crunched the soil which was oddly loud to her. Did elves have good hearing alongside low-light vision? They must have, as she could hear the men’s footsteps as if she was right next to them.
Listening to the sounds of her enemies was unsettling as she expected them to hear her as well as she could hear them. Thus far, no one had shouted or started chasing her, so she must be in the clear. Shapes were moving around the stables. Edging closer, she could see that several men surrounded the stables. They wore red bandanas across the bottom half of their faces and leathers with knives and daggers at their belts, or else they held weapons in their hands.
She counted nearly seven, but there might be more on the other side where she couldn’t see. It would be impossible to take on all these men by herself with only three kitchen knives, but if she could wake up the others, then the three of them could manage together or at least fight their way through to escape.
If she shouted now, the men would realize her presence and come after her. So she had to get inside the stable before her enemies. Bending almost double, Sally crouched as low as she could while still being able to move. Her body was limber enough for this to be very close to the ground, as if she had spent years doing yoga and eating fat-free yogurt instead of sitting in front of a TV playing video games and snacking on Chips Ahoy.
Eyeing the back of a man who was standing guard while others stalked the stables, Sally crept forward with the intent of knocking him out with the hilt of a knife (again, this was the knowledge that just came out of nowhere). This, she felt was a good plan, until she heard a sharp snap beneath her boot. Looking down, Sally saw the broken twig and stared at it in horror, knowing full well that twig hadn’t been there a second ago.
She could hear Darcy declaring that she had rolled a 1 on the die.
“Someone there?” A voice barked.
“Shit,” Sally hissed ducking back towards the inn, deeply regretting this foolish streak of bravery on her part.
“You!” Her heart leaped, thinking they had spotted her. Instead, the voice ordered, “Go find out who’s out there. If it’s one of the women, grab her and bring her along.”
“Dammit,” she breathed.
She could lose him in the forest; the dark shadows would give her plenty of places to hide. There was, however, an open space about a football field length between the tavern and the edge of the forest. With the moon shining bright, they would catch sight her before she made it across. Just as she decided to head back inside the inn, the front door of the building swung open, and a man trudged out wearing the same leathers and the same bandana across his mouth as the others.
“The other one isn’t inside,” he called as he left the door for the stables.
“Keep your gob shut and your peepers open,” a chastising voice hissed. “She’s somewhere around here.”
Oh, God. They were looking for her already? How did they know she had been inside the inn?
With all thought of warning Mina and Darcy gone and every instinct of self-preservation firing up as never before, Sally clenched a knife in hand and moved towards the back of the tavern. Maybe there was a cellar or a backdoor she could use to get inside. Since the attackers had already looked inside the tavern, it would be the best hiding place until they left.
As luck would have it, there was a window just around the corner. It was dark, and Sally pressed her nose to the glass. The room beyond looked empty and deserted. If she could open th
e window, she could slip inside and hide until the men left.
As her hands pressed against the sill, a voice said, “I wouldn’t go inside. There are bad guys hiding in there.”
Sally’s heart leaped to her throat, and she frantically looked around but saw no one. Even with her low-light vision, she couldn’t see the source of the voice. Had it been her imagination or her paranoia?
“Up here.”
Sally looked up.
A girl was sitting on the roof, wearing what looked like white pajamas with no shoes. Her hair was dragged back into two bushy pigtails that looked like two matted balls of cotton. She sat gaily with her legs slightly swinging as if she should be sitting on the edge of a bridge and tossing flower petals into the water.
“Who are you?” Sally hissed, afraid to raise her voice any higher than a whisper.
“Naomi,” the girl said and then pointed. “There’s a bad guy behind you.”
Sally whipped around in time to see a man sneaking up behind her. With a short cry, she brought up her knife in time to block his dagger, but barely. His blade slid across hers and then downwards towards her knee. She danced back, slamming her back into the wall next to the window and the dagger found nothing but air. He lunged forward with an open hand to catch her throat. Sally saw the move, and in reflex thrust the knife through his open palm.
The man moaned, stumbling backward, grasping his impaled hand. Sally let go of the knife and grabbed a second one from her belt. Her attacker’s eyes blazed so hotly she could have seen them without her low-light vision. He turned towards the stables, and she didn’t have to see his mouth to know he was about to shout for help.
Before any sound emerged from the man, Naomi landed on his back, wrapped her arms around his neck and choked off his shout. He wrenched his body from side to side to dislodge her, but she braced her feet on his hips, raised a fist no bigger than a coffee mug, and delivered a blow to his temple. The man collapsed on the ground as if he had been shot. The girl bounced to her feet as if she were wearing a jetpack.
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