by Eric Ugland
“I do. Just seems a bit out of place.”
”Our aesthetic is developing.”
”It’s certainly diverse.”
“The kobolds — how are they doing?”
“In the four days they’ve been here, no problems. They are polite, courteous, and have no ability to stand up for themselves.”
“So they’re getting pushed around?”
”You could say that.”
”Is it something I need to, like, say something about?”
”I don’t know if it would do anything. They seem to like it. And they seem to like eating.”
”They’re eating a lot?”
”No, but I’m not sure many of them had a steady supply of food prior to this.”
“Are they going to bust our food supply?”
“Well, the Ursus eat a lot more than the kobolds. Too many more of them, and we’d be in trouble. Or more Thingmen. Those guys can pack it in.”
“Seriously though — are you worried about the food stores?”
“No. We have a decent amount, and more coming. Plenty of the farmers on the other side of the mountains are more than happy to sell to us. We pay in coin and don’t force them into shitty deals like all the Osterstadt guilds. We’re the disrupters, and being that we are willing to overpay, so far, we’re doing fine.”
“So why is Nikolai making it seem like we’re about to go on starvation rations?”
“Because that’s the way he runs things. He’s more of a fear-based pessimist right now.”
“And you’re an optimist?”
”Let’s not go that far. I’m more a pragmatist.”
“But you think we’ll be okay?”
”Not if you keep coming back here with new mouths to feed. And not unless you pull off this quest to save the world. Pretty sure we’d be in trouble then.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re like my neighbor — she had to adopt every stray animal she saw. Pretty soon, she had to move because she had too many animals.”
“These aren’t strays.”
“Aren’t they?’
”Okay, maybe they are, but they are stray people.”
”I know. It’s not the best metaphor. But try not to bring anyone else home until you’ve gotten the quest complete.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Someone’s got to keep you in check.”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
“Are you heading back out soon?”
“Just as soon as we resupply. But we have to take a different route.”
“Oh?”
I told Lee about the valley and the spiders. He listened carefully, nodding at times.
“I am proud you saw the intelligence in leaving without trying to clear the valley.”
“You think I’d do something like that?”
“It surprises me you did not. You might actually be learning.”
“Had to happen at some point,” I said.
He chuckled, and nodded. “Small miracles. Be safe out there.”
“Not exactly my style.”
“That’s why we worry about you.”
Chapter Forty-Two
We spent the afternoon on resupply missions around the holding. Lots of food, lots of heavy winter clothing, lots of weapons. There was definitely a sense among those of us going back out that something bad was about to happen. The easy path through the valley was blocked, and now we had to go a new way, and it seemed like Wulf wasn’t sure how to take us. He spent his time standing on the wall, staring into the forest, braving the rain.
Something was bothering Meikeljan. He prayed the whole afternoon, more time than I’d ever seen him do before. And he wasn’t willing to talk to anyone.
Amber was the only one of us who seemed chill, oddly enough. She hung out with the brownies, who were happily chatting with her about the tree. And other things, I supposed.
Tarryn and the other mancers met with the witches, going over the established rules for magic use in the holding as well as, ostensibly, talking about if someone had spells or specialties that might be helpful to share.
I found out that there was, in fact, a tailor in our complex, who was happy to measure me and tell me he had nothing whatsoever in my size. And had no plans to make anything in my size, because he was done working for the night. He was about as nice to deal with as Guy Gambrill, the stuck-up five-star carpenter.
We made the decision to go back out in the morning so everyone could get a good night of sleep. It felt great to lay in my big comfy bed under a big comfy blanket with a big crackling fire going. I took a few deep breaths, and slipped into a glorious sleep.
Immediately, I woke up on an island under a tree remarkably similar to the oak tree I’d grown on the lawn. Water surrounded me. I pushed myself up to sitting, and watched as the Goddess Eona came out of the water.
“You don’t look well,” I said, stepping into the water and helping her take the last few steps before dropping to the perfect grass.
“I am not well,” she replied. “I am most taxed by holding back the corruption.”
“It’s an ongoing thing? I thought—”
“The corrupted are attempting to pull through many entities, and though I have tried to keep them all back, it has been taxing, and some have slipped through.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Stop them faster.”
“Yeah, I haven’t exactly been on top of that.”
“I have noticed. And you have used the bow to fight non-corrupted creatures.”
“True. Guilty on that count as well.”
“I fear I must request the bow back—”
“Of course.”
“—I need the energy,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me. Or she expected me to push back against her. “Thank you.”
She held her hand out, and, suddenly, the bow was there. She threw it up in the air, and it just sort of vanished. Color returned to her face, and she managed to stand up.
“Thank you,” she said again.
“For sure,” I replied. “Your bow. And I’ve got other things I can do to, you know, kill them.”
“You must do it soon. I am running out of energy. With the return of the bow, and thus my bone, I will be able to hold the corruption back a little longer. But not indefinitely. Move faster, Montana.“
Unlike previous meetings with Eona, the dream ended suddenly, and I found myself shoved back to reality with surprising force.
I shot up in bed, sweating. So I walked over to one of the windows, ripped back the shutters, and leaned out into the cold night air. The wind whipped across the cliff face and made my skin feel tight.
“It is a strange thing,” came a familiar voice from outside, on the side of the cliff, “how often you speak with gods.”
One of the shutters pushed open, and Mister Paul slipped through.
“Dude,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
I walked over and held out my hand.
He grabbed it, and we shook.
Mister Paul smiled. “I felt it was time we had another chat.”
“Oh. Well. Hello then. Come inside.”
“I already have,” he replied. He looked around the room, and sighed. “You have terrible feng shui. I fear it’s more like feng shit.”
“Not sure I’m into feng shui, and I had zero input on this place.”
“Double deflection. Impressive, Lord Coggeshall.”
“I try?”
“I dare say you do. This is an impressive collection of races. Few spots are as diverse as your own. I am interested to see how it falls apart.”
“You think it’s going to?”
“Not necessarily, but it’s more entertaining to believe it’s going to fail and then be delighted when we see it succeed.”
“Who is we?”
“Never you mind. How are you dealing with your quests?”
“Uh, not so great I suppose?”
“You have been particu
larly unfocused this time around. I dare say that will be troubling to many of those interested in your progress. You are consumed by these side quests, by saving people and bringing them back here. And yet, you have done so little on the most important quest in your short time amongst these people. Funny.”
“Funny? I’m trying to make the world a better place, and that’s often done by saving those who need it.”
“Unless, of course, through inaction you allow the end of the world to come about.”
“You’re telling me these corrupt Ursus can bring about the end of the world?”
“I’m not sure I said that. You said that.”
“Is it true?”
“What is truth?”
I sighed. Talking with Mister Paul often left me wanting to pull my eyeballs out. Which, technically, I suppose I could do. They’d just grow back.
“Have you thought of romance?” Mister Paul asked, twirling about on pointe before producing a flower out of thin air.
“No.”
“You might want to.”
“To entertain the—”
“Let’s not say that out loud, shall we?”
“You said it.”
“But I am me and you are you. And we were talking about you, not me. Romance.”
“No.”
“And after I went to the trouble of getting you the kitsune-girl and everything.”
“You got her?”
“Semantics. She’s here and you ignore her.”
“I don’t ignore her. I’ve given her the space she needs to be healthy.”
“I urge you to think more about yourself than others. You might find that you need to do so in order to get ahead.”
“I don’t want that kind of a life.”
Mister Paul sighed deeply, and dropped down into a chair I swore hadn’t been there before. Mainly because it looked really comfortable. Heavy leather, big arms, deep cushions. He gestured vaguely, and another armchair, on the other side of the fire, popped into place.
“Sit,” Mister Paul said.
Maybe he put some extra pizzazz on the command, because I found myself obeying without thinking.
“I appreciate what it is you want,” he said, most of the flair gone from of his voice. “I get that this is not the life you had pictured. That’s quite clear. And I appreciate you are trying your best to learn and adapt and make use of the skills you’ve found and been given. There is an admirable quality to the work you’re putting in. And yet, you move too slow.”
“I didn’t realize this was a race.”
He leaned over the arm of his chair. My chair scooted across the stone floor until his face was almost touching mine. I could smell his breath — it was like vanilla and spice. His eyes, a myriad of colors that seemed to change every time I noticed, were locked on mine.
“Listen closely,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I am treading close to the line of the law here, and I want you to know that what I am telling you is important. You move too slow. Your growth has plateaued. You are not using your skills, you are not gaining new ones. The allies you gain are weak, the enemies you make are both legion and powerful. This is not a game you can afford to lose. It is not a game we can afford you to lose. You must find a new gear. Go faster. You must grow, or...” he trailed off. “I’ve said about as much as I can on the topic.
He stood up, and with a wave of his hand, both chairs disappeared. I fell to the floor.
“There are, as per the usual, a few gifts that have been granted to you by those who are following your progress,” he said. He turned around and looked at me on the floor, genuine surprise across his face. “What are you doing down there? Hardly befitting nobility.”
I scrambled to my feet and dusted off.
“First,” he said, pulling a bottle out of a tiny pocket to present to me. It was a small cube of glass with a wax-sealed stopper. “A bottle of Cleanse All Disinfectant.”
“What?”
“Read the label — I’m sure it makes things quite clear.”
I had to put the bottle pretty close to my eye to read the label, but sure enough, it made everything clear.
Doctor Béchamp’s Cleanse All Disinfectant and Floor Cleaner. When sullied by unpleasantness, douse self, or other, or anything really, in Doctor Béchamp’s Cleanse All Disinfectant and Floor Cleaner. Sure to clean any curse, hex, evil eye, eldritch infestation, viral infection, parasite, embarrassing rash, violent or violet fungus or any other affliction of the negative or positive kind. Whatever you have, it will be gone. Single use. Do not use Doctor Béchamp’s Cleanse All Disinfectant and Floor Cleaner with alcohol or healing potions. Do not operate heavy machinery after use. Or heavy-bladed weaponry. Do not use on summoned creatures, imps, devils, demons, extra-planar entities, celestials, fiends, familiars, or Darby O’Gillis. In rare cases, side effects may occur, including but not limited to: headaches, body aches, imaginary aches, unreal aches, obsessive truth telling, explosive diarrhea, loss of the ability to see the color puce, hair loss, hair growth, incorporeality, aura discharge, and mild stomach upset. In some rare cases damnation and eternal suffering may occur. Please discuss with your doctor, sage, witch, witchdoctor, haruspex, or personal hag before use. Use at your own risk.
“Is this for real?” I asked.
“As real as it ever is. And useful in the right situation.”
“Have you ever used one before?”
“Not yet.”
“So you don’t know.”
“I’ve seen one used. Have some faith that I wouldn’t give you a cursed object.”
“I don’t know that you won’t.”
“It would be unethical and improper for me to hamstring you in such a way, regardless of the entertainment value.”
“Like starting me on the top of a mountain?”
“That was a one-time thing. And very high in entertainment value. If I remember, you came away with quite a few skills.”
“Yeah, falling. Super useful.”
“Seems as if you haven’t fallen since. Perhaps you learned a lesson.”
“And I lost the best weapons I’ll probably ever see.”
“That might also be true. But then again, there are certainly plenty of artifacts which dwarf those in power. You merely need to find them.”
“Any chance you’ll give me a hint where those might be?”
“Of course. There is a city to the south of here, quite a bit south really, and it’s called Raim. There is a second city underneath Raim, which is mostly the reason Raim continues to exist in any real sense considering its dour and desperate locale. That city is called Gloomguard, and it is straight down from Raim, about ten thousand feet or so. Gloomguard sits in the middle of the remains of one of the greatest heaps of treasure and horror ever known to Vuldranni. Every which way you leave Gloomguard, you find yourself in another floor of an infinite labyrinth. Supposedly there are at least a million hordes guarded by a million hordes, all placed there by a mad god in a fit of whimsy. Treasures and monsters beyond imagination. Within those hallowed and horrific halls, you will find plenty of artifacts that pale the sword and shield you lost.”
“Raim. Is that in the empire?”
“Sadly no. It’s not even in this hemisphere. I dare say no one in the Empire likely knows of Raim’s existence. But it is there, I assure you.”
“Is it attached to the Gloom?”
“Yes. Though it isn’t technically in the Gloom so much as has an entrance to the Gloom. It is, rather, a permanent foothold into a demi-plane created by a—”
“Mad god. Got it.”
“Yes. And there are treasures untold inside. More than you can imagine, all placed there to lure the greatest heroes of every age. But because this planet has rather dreadful information exchange, it’s largely unknown outside of the continent on which it sits.”
“Which is?”
“Dogsmerse.”
“Dogsmerse? And it’s south of here?”
; “Very much quite south, yes.”
“That’s not super helpful.”
“I can’t give you information like that which would be useful — that’d be cheating.”
“Cheating what? Who? What are these rules? What do I need to—”
“Quiet, Weasel.”
“Dork.”
“Buttface.”
“Scuzzbucket.”
“Charming. Present number two,” he said, clamping my mouth shut.
“Two?” I asked, though with my mouth muffled, it wasn’t quite clear.
“Yes. Two. As in the second. The one that comes after one. Gift number two.”
He gestured with his hand, and there appeared a small flask. The metal kind that looked remarkably similar to the one I smuggled into my junior prom and used to get Kyleigh Schefter drunk. Well, that’s not fair, it somewhat steals her agency. I didn’t make her drink — she elected to imbibe the spirits on her own. And I dutifully held her blonde hair back when she puked all over the fire department hookup behind the gym.
“A flask,” he said.
“Quite the gift,” I replied.
“It is a magical flask,” he countered.
“Oh, well then. How can I ever repay you?”
“You know none of the powers it contains.”
“Endless booze?”
“Endless ice cold Faygo root beer.”
“Now you have my attention,” I said, reaching for the flask.
“I doubt you understand the power requirements for this. It is quite the gift.”
“Expensive no doubt, and I am truly thankful. And yet, gimme. Gimme gimme.”
He rolled his eyes at me, and then held out the flask. I snatched it from his fingers, and quickly unscrewed the top. A quick sniff confirmed the contents, and I took a long pull. Drinking deep until the effervescence was beyond my ability to handle it. Then I came up for air.
It was delicious. And frigid. Amazing.
“This is amazing,” I said.
“I said as much.”
“I had to see it to believe it. Or, you know, drink it.”
“Yes, well, I hope you find a way to enjoy it. Now, one last thing.”
“Yes?”
“It’s really not for you, so if you don’t want to listen, you can continue to guzzle your sugary drink.”
