The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Mostly.

  “Mostly, but I’ve got another question about you.”

  “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

  I gesture at her arm.

  “Do you need all the details or can you just use something that looks like an arm?”

  Octavia looks mildly surprised. She flexes her arm.

  “You saw that? Most people get too queasy to tell. Yes, we do need bones and other things. It’s hard to describe to you, since you Humans never really see inside your body, but there are more things than just bone and blood and flesh. Bodies are quite complex, you know.”

  “I’m aware. But can you shape your bodies like other creatures?”

  For the first time, the stitch-girl looks hesitant.

  “If…we have to. I’ve never seen it myself, but you hear horror stories sometimes. It can go horribly wrong if everything isn’t sewn just right. Heck, if it were easy we’d just stitch armies together and conquer the world, right?”

  “Hopefully not. Last question about you. Does the fabric type matter?”

  Another quick smile.

  “You’re fast. Yes, it does. Cotton’s what us normal people use, but I’ve seen some poorer folks use wool or rougher stuff. Quality does make us look…different, and it can make us stronger or quicker depending on the fabric. Canvas makes really heavy, rough people, but they can take quite a beating!”

  “What about someone made from silk?”

  Octavia’s eyes widen incredulously.

  “From silk? You mean, their entire body? Dead gods, I don’t think I know anyone rich enough to do that. You barely see more than a bolt of silk on some fat lady around here anyways. It might be good, but I have no idea what that would feel like.”

  “Huh. Thanks.”

  “No problem! Now, is that all?”

  Octavia’s eying my potion again. I sigh and cover it with one hand.

  “Not yet. I had one more thing I needed help with.”

  “Oh yes. The High Passes.”

  Octavia wrinkles her nose and shrugs.

  “Can’t help. Sorry.”

  “What, you can’t do anything?”

  “I’m an [Alchemist], not a miracle-worker. There are countless monsters lurking in there. I don’t have much that’ll stop them.”

  “What about an invisibility potion? Or your stamina potions? A regeneration potion? Wouldn’t that help?”

  Octavia taps the counter with one finger and shakes her head.

  “First off—if I could brew invisibility potions I wouldn’t be in a small shop like this. And you wouldn’t be able to afford one anyways. And a regeneration potion? Ask me after I’ve gained fifty levels. Stamina potions I can make, and pretty good ones too. But they don’t make you run faster.”

  “Give me the run down on them.”

  “Stamina potions? Sure. Ready for the sales pitch?”

  Octavia turns and puts the base potion on a shelf and pulls the glowing blue potion out again. I have the distinct feeling it should be green, not blue. But then, this world doesn’t have a few decades of video games to standardize color stereotypes.

  “This little gem will restore your energy and give you a kick so you can run further and faster than normal. But that’s only the potion giving you a boost. If you tear a muscle, it’s not going to heal it, and you’ll still be using up energy even with the potion. When it wears off you’re going to crash hard. But if you need to run for three days straight…”

  She sloshed the potion in the glass bottle. I nod.

  “I could use some. But that doesn’t solve my problem with the High Passes.”

  “Don’t go is my solution. That place is a deathtrap. Unless—if that’s the place you got the potion from, I say go for it and get me another one.”

  Octavia shrugs as she uncorks the blue potion. She shoves it under my nose.

  “Here. If you’re buying a potion, take a sip and make sure you can down it. I’ve had adventurers complaining they threw up before they could down some of my potions.”

  The smell that wafts up from the bottle nearly makes me hurl, and that’s without tasting it. I push the bottle back and cough a few times.

  “That smells awful. Can’t you do something about that as well?”

  Octavia looks mildly offended. She gestures at the potion.

  “Do you know how hard it is to add something like a flavor to potions without creating an entirely different effect? I’ve seen adventurers add a bit of lemon juice to their potions to make them taste better and have the entire thing coat them in poisonous foam. Don’t try that, by the way.”

  Well, that’s a comforting thought. I try not to gag as Octavia sniffs her potion. She clearly doesn’t seem to mind the horrible odor, but then, she probably inhales that stuff all the time.

  But for me, it’s making my eyes water. Hell, it’s like being skunked. I’d better ask how thick those potion bottles are. If it breaks in my pack, I’ll either have the street to myself or get kicked out of the city. Not that I wouldn’t mind the privacy—

  I blink. Waitaminute.

  “Hold on, I think I know how you can help me get through the High Passes after all.”

  Octavia raises her eyebrows.

  “Well, if it means getting paid more I can brew up anything you want. Within reason, of course. Is there something that you think will help.”

  I nod. Am I going to regret this? But it’ll probably work. If not, I’m going to hate myself.

  “Yeah, but I’ll need to buy some nose plugs as well.”

  “Nose plugs? Hah! How many do you need?”

  —-

  Nearly a day later, I run towards the High Passes. What was it I thought the first time I came this way? Death and glory await? Something stupid like that, I bet.

  This time I’m ready.

  I run towards the high passes, mountains looming impossibly high in the distance. A range of mountains taller than Mt. Everest breaks only in one small part to let travelers through.

  ‘Small’ in this case meaning a gap that you could march a small army through. It’s all relative.

  A tribe of Goblins runs towards me as I move towards the High Passes and snow changes to dirt under my feet. Looks like not even the Frost Faeries have gotten to this place yet.

  The lead Goblin whoops and shouts as he runs at me. This tribe converged fast, and I’ve got the sneaking suspicion they might be the same group as last time. Do they just watch the High Passes or are they based in this location?

  Well, they might be a problem. Bows and whatnot. But I’ve got faith in my new strategy, so I run on.

  The first Goblin runs towards me, and then the wind changes. He takes a few more steps, and then his face suddenly contorts. His eyes bulge, and then he’s running in the other direction. The other Goblins pause for only a second, and then they scream and run.

  Yep. It works.

  Run on. Now the High Passes are growing larger, and I hear a howl in the distance. Carn Wolves. The massive rust-red wolves that like the taste of Goblins and Asian girls. Well, I think they’ll be less hungry than usual.

  I’m right. The wolves don’t even get near enough to me to see before I hear panicked yelping and the wolves beating a fast retreat. I am untouchable. Invincible.

  Into the pass now, and running quickly. The magic or rather, aura that surrounds me doesn’t stop working even as the rock walls grow higher around my head.

  The evil goats with teeth scream and climb away from me. The High Passes empty of life ahead of me as monsters flee from my presence.

  Yes, I’m safe. Totally safe, from everything. I run on while the monsters flee.

  By the way, this isn’t due to me gaining a skill or class or anything. Octavia’s potion is doing all the work.

  Me? I’m just trying not to throw up. I’ve failed three times already, and I think I might be going down for a fourth time. The smell surrounding me is unbearable, and that’s coming from a girl who’s been sprayed by a skunk mor
e than once.

  Question: what is the most feared animal from our world? I sort of gave it away, but it’s the skunk. Fuck hippos or great white sharks or army ants. Skunks instill a kind of fear in suburban neighborhoods that you just can’t match.

  And what makes those little rodents so terrible? One word. Smell.

  They stink. And because I had a bright idea, and because Octavia knows how to brew a decent potion, so do I.

  Long story? Short story. I asked her to make something that would chase away everything that might hurt me, and she did. I used it on myself, and I regret doing it.

  The smell of the potion she made was so strong that it made everyone leave the block when she brewed it. Even sealed in an airtight bottle, I practically got chased out of the city and made great time on the open road.

  Applied to the skin? God. I wish I were dead.

  I’ve got nose plugs in, and I keep holding my breath until I’m dizzy. But the smell—

  It’s beyond indescribable. I keep hoping my nose will shut down, like it does if you smell something really bad for a long time. But though my eyes are tearing up and my nose is burning, I can still smell it.

  It’ll never go away. I’ll be able to walk into a skunk nest and chase them all out.

  Above me and to the left, a ridge of innocuous boulders suddenly shifts. I dodge away, but the gargoyles aren’t attacking. They unfurl their massive stone wings and leap away from me, climbing the cliffs.

  Huh. Well, it turns out gargoyles do have a sense of smell. That, or I stink so bad even things without a nose can sense it.

  But I asked for this. I have to keep remembering that. It’s all part of the plan. And I can survive this. And perhaps the silent, noxious run wouldn’t be so bad normally. Yes, if this were the only price to enter the High Passes I might consider it a deal. But there’s one type of creature that doesn’t seem bothered, even by the smell.

  High overhead, a small cloud of faeries flies overhead and laugh loudly as the gargoyles finish running for the mountains. One of them swoops down and lands on my head as I run on, laughing and speaking loudly to her friends.

  “Smell her, sisters! She stinks like marsh bubbles and a witch’s brew!”

  “Worse!”

  “Hah! Even the stony ones fear her stinkage! What foolishness!”

  They flutter around me, and more settle on my head. I grind my teeth. These little demons followed me out of the city, much to my dismay. I thought they’d give up on me with an entire city’s worth of humans to bother, but no*.

  *Yeah, that’s right. I was trying to pawn them off on other people. So what? If you had to deal with these supernatural freaks for more than five minutes you’d be ready to do the same.

  One of the faeries laughs and pulls at my hair. I feel some hairs rip free of my scalp and I snap. That’s it. I know it’s a bad idea, but I swat at them and drive them from my head.

  “Get lost!”

  The faeries take off and my fingertip grazes one and goes numb. They’re too cold to touch, and they’re not afraid. One buzzes next to my face, sticking her tiny tongue out at me as she mocks me.

  “Ooh, scary, scary! It bites!”

  I growl at her, but she only laughs and flips me off. Where the hell did faeries learn that gesture?

  “Why the hell are you following me, anyways? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  The faerie looks offended and tilts her head away. She looks to one of her friends and remarks loudly to the air.

  “Hark, the stinky thing talks!”

  “Disgusting! It should die!”

  My foot slips on a patch of the ice and I crash to the ground. Ow!

  I pick myself up and realize a shard of rock is embedded in my hand. I pull it out, and blood wells out of my palm.

  Those damn—

  You know what? I’m just going to keep running. And it’s not because I know I can’t do anything to them.

  I get up and run down the long, winding rocky path. At least my shoes protect my feet from the sharp rocks. Now, where was that damn cave? I only barely remember reaching it last time—I was nearly dead as I recall. But I think Teriarch’s place should be just up ahead—

  I turn past a cliff wall and suddenly a massive gaping hole taller and wider than the gates of Liscor appears in my view. Well. I’m here.

  I hesitate as I stare up at the faded yellow scrap of cloth anchored by a boulder over the cave entrance. Only now do I suddenly remember exactly what Teriarch is. Let’s see. Now that you’re really thinking over your life choices Ryoka, does it make sense to bother a possibly Elven mage of incredible power who gave you a task that you did not carry out? Yes? Well then, go right ahead. This has been a message from your brain.

  I take a deep breath and instantly regret it. But I’m here, and victory belongs to the bold. Also, bullets in the head belong to the bold, usually instead of victory, but I’ve got to do this.

  The Frost Faeries swoop down around my head, oblivious to my trepidation. They laugh as they fly into the cave, chattering still.

  “Ooh, does the human think we’re afraid of caves?”

  “At least she’s not smart enough to use iron. We’d freeze her nose off for that!”

  “Shall we drop the ceiling on her? Or maybe—”

  I hear the booming words as a rumble in my bones before I realize their words. A massive voice booms out of the cave, full of irritation and command.

  “Pests. Begone!”

  The effect of the massive voice is instantaneous. The Frost Faeries react as if struck. They scream and flee in every direction a second before a huge stream of fire blasts over my head. I throw myself to the ground as the heat cooks me then dissipates.

  For a while all I can do is lie on the ground, shaking a bit. Holy crap. That’s a scary spell. I get up at last, not so much because I want to go in, but rather in case I need to run.

  The same voice echoes from within, not quite as loud, but just as huge. It sounds out in tones of disapproval, addressing me.

  “Enter, Ryoka Griffin.”

  If I were religious…I’m not, so I just hope with all my heart as I enter. I hope I’m not about to die.

  The cave is open and vast, not so much a cave in truth as a plane hangar, only a bit bigger than most of the plane hangars I’ve seen. It makes me feel as though I’m in some kind of other world, and huge as the cave is, it’s far from empty.

  In no time, the rough ground changes from stone to smooth marble. The rough walls…still remain, but suddenly they’re covered by paintings, weapons hanging on walls.

  Pedestals appear, holding magical objects and bookshelves full of old tomes share space next to odd things I can’t even describe. A mirror gilded with gold that doesn’t reflect my shape? A suit of armor made out of stone? A…keyblade?

  The wonders around me are unreal, but that fits the sole occupant of the cave. There he stands, in the center. He waits for me, and I feel the change in the air as I draw close.

  There he is, the person responsible for at least some of my misery over these last few weeks. A mage. A man? A mystery. A dragon.

  Teriarch.

  —-

  The first thing he does is get rid of terrible stench surrounding me. A click of his fingers, and now not only am I smelling fresh as a daisy, but the potion at my side is in his hands. I should say—in a bubble in his hands. It looks almost exactly like a bubble, as the delicate membrane swirls with all the colors of the rainbow in his hands.

  He looks much the same as I remember. Which is to say, too perfect. Teriarch stands in front of me, nearly six foot six, an old man dressed in clothing fit for a king.

  He’s like an archetype of humanity, a tall, faintly bronze-skinned man with white hair, but the physical presence and body of an Olympian god. He stands in front of me and looks down, his pointed ears and celestial eyes narrowed in disdain.

  A massive bronze-scaled Dragon stares down at me with annoyance. His massive wings unfurl a
nd beat once, stirring the air—

  A gust of air strikes me in the face and I blink. What was that? A spell? Teriarch looks irritated, and waves his hand. Whatever caused the disturbance in the air stops.

  “Ryoka Griffin.”

  I don’t know if it’s the magic or just him, but Teriarch’s voice is deep and resonant. He looks at me, and my knees go weak. And not just because he looks like some kind of unattainable vision of male beauty. He’s also scaring the crap out of me, and I can’t tell why. Maybe I just sense how much power he’s got in him.

  “Teriarch.”

  “It has been a while since I last saw you. And now, you show up just when—and bringing those pests as well. How curious.”

  Holy crap, this is hard. My entire plan revolved around me getting here and I didn’t honestly think I’d manage to do this. But I’d completely forgotten how intimidating Teriarch is. Here’s a guy who can teleport me with a few words and shoot fire hot enough to scare Frost Faeries, and I’m about to—

  “It’s nice to see you too.”

  My first and last response to any situation is sarcasm, followed quickly by irony and scorn. Teriarch looks at me as if I’m a bug and shakes his head.

  “Mm. And so I must ask you why you have returned. The last time I saw you, I gave clear instructions. You were to deliver a ring and a letter to the mage known as Perril Chandler, also known as Az’kerash. You have not done so.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  I gulp. Teriarch’s gaze is nearly impossible for me to meet. I stare just over his shoulder instead.

  “None of your business. But I came back to tell you I won’t deliver your letter and ring to Az’kerash.”

  “Why not, pray?”

  “You cast a spell on me.”

  “And?”

  He looks completely disinterested. That’s enough to get me angry. I raise my voice.

  “And I don’t like having people tell me to do things against my will. You cast a spell on me against my consent. For that, you can forget having me deliver anything.”