The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  As she began to write, Zevara muttered to herself.

  “Take the Soldiers out? Why?”

  But of course she never got any answers. Like all the reports she’d made on the Antinium’s movements, she only had questions. Questions…

  Like whether or not the Antinium were really their enemies. At least, the ones in Liscor. And if they were—

  What could be done about them? Only the scratching of her quill on parchment was Zevara’s reply.

  —-

  Lyonette was not in her bed. In fact, she was as far from it as she’d gone in the last month. She trudged through the snow, fighting to push the wheelbarrow through the snow and ice. She wished she still had Erin’s sled. But it was gone, with her.

  Of course, the effort of pushing the wheelbarrow was only one of Lyonette’s concerns. The numbing cold, the intense darkness, and not least, the pants-wetting fear in her heart were high priorities too.

  What was she doing? Every two seconds as Lyon pushed the wheelbarrow she looked around fearfully, expecting a monster to leap out at her. But she had no choice. It had to be tonight. She had to steal the honey tonight, or she’d lose all her confidence.

  And night was the best time to rob the hive, or so Lyonette felt. Bees slept at night, didn’t they? Or at the very least, they’d be drowsy, and she needed every edge she could get.

  It had been a long, uncertain journey across the plains. At first, Lyon hadn’t even known if she was going the right way. Everything looked so strange at night, under the snow. But her treacherous memory somehow managed to guide her exactly in the right direction for once.

  To raid a bee’s nest. Even the thought made Lyonette feel weak with terror, but she had no choice. To survive, she had to do it. Steal bees right out of their nest.

  Okay, maybe she couldn’t steal live bees, but surely she could get a few of the grubs? Lyonette remembered the one Klbkch had eaten and nearly threw up again.

  Honey. That was the real key. Honey was precious, and she could serve it to the Antinium. They liked honey, and with a few bees—

  She just had to raid the hive. Full of huge bees that could kill her in an instant. Lyon couldn’t get her mind off of the idea. Just one sting could—if they stung her in the eye would it reach her brain?

  But—she had no choice. Lyonette took a painful breath of air. She was a [Princess]. She was a—

  She was a girl. A [Barmaid]. Erin had left her inn to Lyon. Intentionally or not. And now it was up to Lyon to live or die. By herself. She no longer had any excuses. Either she died here, or she died in the cold and darkness.

  Better here. Better with the flame of courage still in her chest. So Lyonette paused before the dark hole in the rock and took a deep breath. Sweat ran down her legs and back. She felt hot, even though the wind was blowing.

  Bees. They were just bees, in the end.

  And she—knew how to deal with bees.

  It had just been a fancy. When she’d been young, her tutor had told her all kinds of things she’d willfully ignored. Lessons of algebra, governance, taxes, ruling, classes—all of this Lyonette had let pass her by without caring. But occasionally, in desperation her tutor would tell her stories to keep her interested. And Lyonette had remembered tiny bits.

  One of those things she remembered was bees. When she’d heard how [Beekeepers] could harvest honey from the stinging creatures, she’d been incredulous. But a bit of smoke and thick clothing could do the trick better than magic could.

  “Smoke.”

  Lyonette stared at the firewood she’d hauled all this way. She carefully took the glass jars out and put them to one side of the cave’s entrance. Four jars. This time she’d take as much as she could. If she could.

  Fire. The wood was wet from the snow and it was cold, but Lyonette kept striking the flint with steel. Mechanically. She made a small fire at the entrance of the cave, working despite the numbness in her arms.

  How many times would she have given up a few months ago? Before this, she’d never—she’d never even made a fire. She would have had a servant make it, or at the very least used magic.

  If she could have gone back in time, what would she have done differently? Everything. She’d never have come here, she wouldn’t have stolen—

  But if she never came here, she would never have leveled, would she? And she would have been stuck—

  The sparks flew from the flint. They landed among the wood kindling and caught. Lyonette held her breath and then desperately tried to shelter the flame.

  Fire. Once it grew, Lyonette fed it more wood. More and more, until the fire was hot and bright and large. Then she added the secret ingredient.

  Flaxen sacks, grass plucked from beneath the snow—anything green that would smoke. The smell was horrible, but Lyon ignored it and kept adding her fuel.

  Smoke, dark and noxious, billowed up from the fire. Lyonette stared at it, eyes stinging, but filled with wild elation. Fear had disappeared. Courage—she fanned the flames and the ones in her heart.

  Soon, the cave was choked with dark smoke, and Lyon knew it would become overwhelming in a few more minutes. Perfect. She stared anxiously at the dark interior. She hadn’t seen nor heard any bees, but they were further inside. First she had to build the fire. Then—

  Thick clothing. Lyonette had many layers wrapped around her. It might stop one or two stingers, or slow them down. She had gloves, and the knife. It could cut into the hive, hopefully. She’d cut away as much honeycomb as she could and put it in the jars. If she was lucky, she’d even get some of the grubs the Antinium seemed to like so much. Then she’d run.

  That was the plan. And it was a good plan, brave. It lasted in Lyonette’s head, shining and full of promise until Lyonette heard the buzzing.

  At first, it was just a gentle noise on the verge of hearing. Then it became louder, and Lyonette realized the thrumming was getting closer. She looked up, screamed, and ran as first tens, then hundreds of bees streamed out of the cave towards the fire.

  They’d come for the fire. That was all Lyonette could think as she sprinted out of the cave. By the fire’s light she saw countless flickering shapes, and then heard the bees hit the fire.

  They were extinguishing it! Embers and burning wood flew everywhere as the bees scattered the smoking campfire Lyonette had worked so hard to build. They knew! They knew about smoke and they were unafraid of fire!

  And then they came for her. Lyonette screamed as she ran into the deep snow outside the cave. She threw herself into the snow, digging herself as far down as she could, desperately trying to cover herself. All the while, she could hear the bees’ wings beating. Like a maelstrom, like thunder.

  Lyonette dug, wiggling herself down, down, crying. She heard a buzzing thing hit the snow next to her head like a falling stone and cried out. But the bee hadn’t hit her! It had missed! Lyonette held as still as she could, tears running from her eyes. The bees couldn’t see her. But they knew she was there and they began stabbing into the snow.

  The girl hid in the snow, sobbing, while the thunder buzzed all around her and she heard thumps as the bees landed in the snow, searching for her. Hot liquid ran from her eyes, and more ran down her pants. All Lyon could think was that she’d be dead in the next second, then the next ten seconds. Then in a minute…

  After a while, after a long while when the thunder had ceased and all the sounds were gone, Lyonette finally sat up. She looked around and saw the snow was torn and thrown about, and extinguished remains were all that remained of the fire she’d built. And of the bees?

  Nothing at all. They’d gone back into their hive.

  Lyonette stared around at the shattered remains of her dreams. She stumbled, felt wetness on her lower body. She looked down. The snow had dampened her clothes, but that didn’t explain the stain around her crotch. She’d wet herself. She hadn’t done that in—at least no one was around to see.

  In the end, Lyonette stumbled back to the inn. She left the firewood be
hind, the wheelbarrow, the glass jars—she didn’t have the heart to bring them back.

  It was over. She’d had one chance, but it hadn’t even been a chance at all. These bees didn’t fear fire, and they were too smart to let the smoke fill their cave.

  The girl stumbled back into the inn, still crying. She couldn’t do it. She’d thought—but she was not Erin.

  And even Erin couldn’t have done that by herself. Lyonette clearly remembered the real key to stealing the bees’ honey. The horrible monster with glowing purple eyes who’d tormented her so. But for all she’d hated him, he’d been instrumental. And he wasn’t here.

  The girl sank into a chair, wet, miserable, despairing. She buried her head in her hands, but now she was even out of tears. She was so tired. So tired—and so lonely.

  She didn’t have the skeleton. Toren. She didn’t have Erin Solstice’s twisted, insane mind either. Right at this very moment, Lyonette wished both were back and this inn was how it used to be. She would have scrubbed the floors all by herself, hauled as many buckets of water as Erin needed, even watered the flowers and—

  The flowers.

  Lyon’s eyes widened with sudden memory. How could she had forgotten? She surged to her weary feet, ran to one of the windows.

  She’d forgotten entirely. After all this time—Erin normally watered them. But could they be alive? Could she sell—

  “No!”

  She cried the word when she saw them. Flowers. Flowers yellow and bright as gold, a faerie’s payment. But wizened, wilted.

  Dying.

  The pots of flowers Erin had so lovingly grown were full of—Lyonette stared down at them, her heart breaking. She knew they could be made into a drink, even if she didn’t know how. The adventurer, Halrac, had paid in gold for it. If she had remembered, if she had cared about her duties from the start—

  Now they were dead. Or close to it. Some still lived, and Lyonette immediately soaked the dry soil with water, but it would be long, too long before they recovered.

  And of course, some were beyond help. Lyonette stared at one dead flower in despair. She picked it out and stared at it.

  Another lost hope. Now her heart was well and truly broken. Lyonette stared at the fire in the inn. It was barely even embers now; the last flickers of light hidden at the center of the ash.

  Fire had failed her. Angrily, Lyonette stalked over to the fireplace and tossed the dead flower into it. The faerie’s flower smoked and gave off an acrid smoke. Lyonette coughed, angrily waving the fumes away—

  And woke up on her back. Lyonette blinked, stared at the dead fire, and then at the remains of the flower. She blinked—stared at the way the darkness had become lighter, at the dead fire, long extinguished, and then at the wilted flowers. Then she sat up.

  “Flowers. And bees.”

  —-

  It was just before dawn when the girl lit the second fire just inside the cave of the Ashfire Bees. This time her body was nearly completely numb and she was shaking from exhaustion. She’d brought another huge glass jar, and a handful of the most dead flowers she could gather. She prayed that was enough.

  The kindling refused to light. The wood was so wet from its exposure to the elements—Lyon kept trying. She struck sparks until her fingers cramped, and then the fire lit.

  She fed the fire. She added wood, feeding it, growing it frantically. How soon before the bees noticed the flame and heat? How soon before—

  She heard the thrumming again, but this time she was ready. Lyonette cast the flowers into the fire and saw smoke go up. But it was only a glimpse because she was running out of the cave, diving into the snow again.

  The bees came, a howling sound louder than anything. Lyonette waited for them to scatter the fire, but suddenly the beating noise lessened. She heard small impacts, as if something was falling to the ground and then—

  Silence.

  Lyon got up slowly. She stared at the cave, and then dared to approach, holding her breath. The last vestiges of smoke faded and she saw the bees.

  There were hundreds of them. They lay on the ground in droves, legs folded, wings still extended, some of them.

  Asleep.

  Lyonette’s heart beat faster. She grabbed a jar. She grabbed the knife. She danced about with both, and then wondered how long the effects of the faerie flower smoke would last. Then she ran into the cave.

  —-

  Three jars of honey and honeycomb, cut from the hive. Two jars stuffed with bees, still alive but sleeping. Lyonette sat in the snow, far away from the cave, shaking so hard she couldn’t even stand.

  She’d seen the bees waking up as she’d scooped them up into the big glass jars. But she’d done it. She’d cut into the hive, full of grubs and sleeping bees and taken as much as she could. Then she’d filled the jars, pushed them into the wheelbarrow, and fled.

  And now—

  Some of the bees were moving in the glass jars. There was no air inside, but they were still alive, somehow. Lyonette stared at a huge one that wiggled its feelers and moved its legs weakly. Lyonette smiled at it, lip trembling. She held the big jar up, gloating, mocking the bees.

  “I did it! You stupid bees! I did—”

  One of the bees inside the jar tried to fan its wings and escape. It smacked into the glass. Lyonette screamed, nearly dropped the jar, caught it at the last moment, and then put it carefully back on the wheelbarrow. She shuddered as the jars full of bees vibrated. She made sure the lids were secure, and then slowly made her way back to the inn.

  She was exhausted. Lyonette felt as though her muscles would tear. Her bones…seemed to ache. And yet Lyonette held her head high. She smiled, even as she ascended the hill, pushing the wheelbarrow up to the door of the inn, legs ready to give out.

  She felt so proud of herself, she could burst. Then Lyonette pushed the door to the inn open, and found a small bundle of white fur wrapped around a table leg. Mrsha blinked as Lyonette let light shine on her face, and then looked up hopefully. Her wagging tail slowed when she saw it was just Lyonette.

  “Huh?”

  The Human girl stared at the young Gnoll. The Gnoll stared back. Lyonette sat down, a jar of honey in her hands.

  “What are you doing…? Why are you…?”

  Mrsha just blinked at her. Lyonette blinked back. Then, tremulously, she smiled. Mrsha edged closer, wary.

  “You’re so thin.”

  That was all Lyonette said as she sat on the inn’s floor, stroking Mrsha’s head. The Gnoll nuzzled her. She was indeed thin, and she looked—

  Sad. Lyonette couldn’t read Gnoll’s faces, but she saw it in the way the Gnoll curled up next to her. Sad, and lonely.

  Just like her.

  “Would you like some honey? It’s fresh.”

  The Gnoll’s tail wagged. And Lyonette opened the jar. And for the first time in a long, long while, as the sun rose and her weary body ached, Lyonette ate breakfast with someone else.

  —-

  “Mrsha!”

  Selys burst through the door of the inn twenty minutes later. Lyonette looked up as she and Mrsha stared at a wriggling grub half-submerged in a bowl of white, gelatinous stuff. The Drake stared at the Gnoll, stared at Lyonette, and then at the grub.

  “What’s happening? Mrsha?”

  The Gnoll immediately hopped off the table and fled into the kitchen. Selys ran towards her, and stopped as Lyonette got up.

  “Is something wrong? Miss…Selys?”

  “Um—no, nothing’s wrong…Lyon.”

  The Drake glanced distractedly at Lyon, not looking particularly happy to see the girl so early in the morning. She pointed at the kitchen.

  “When did Mrsha get here? I’ve been looking for her all day—ever since I found out she’d run away!”

  “Ran away?”

  The Drake nodded distractedly.

  “She’s been doing it all week. I normally find her but this time—is she okay?”

  “I think so. She’s so thin—”
>
  “She won’t eat! Mrsha, come out of there! Come on! I’ll feed you anything you want, just—”

  The Drake went into the kitchen. Lyonette heard scuffling, then Mrsha bounded out and ran up the stairs. Selys went after her. A few seconds later, Lyon heard another shout and Mrsha bounded down the stairs. Selys came down after her, gasping. She had to lean against a table as Mrsha circled the chair Lyonette had been sitting at.

  “You can’t stay here! You…give me a second…you’ve got to come back, okay? Be a good girl until Erin and Ryoka come back!”

  But Mrsha refused. Lyonette knew the young Gnoll couldn’t speak, but she saw it in every line of her body, and especially in the way the Gnoll clung to one of the tables as Selys tried to drag her outside.

  “Come on! Please?”

  Mrsha yowled, a noise more bestial than anything else. Selys pulled and pulled…but five minutes later she sat at one of the tables as Lyonette served her eggs and toast drizzled in honey. Mrsha licked her plate—she’d eaten so much Lyon was afraid she’d throw up.

  “I just don’t get it. She doesn’t eat anything I give her! Not even steak! Do you know how expensive that is—and where did you get all this honey?”

  “I stole it from the bees.”

  “The bees? You?”

  Lyon just nodded. She hadn’t even had time to change her clothes. She knew she was filthy and wet and from the way Mrsha had sniffed at her, she knew she stank as well. But there was something keeping her upright, and—

  “What’s with that?”

  Selys turned a bit pale as she pointed at the grub swimming in the liquid. Mrsha sniffed at it and Selys pushed an inquisitive paw away.

  “Don’t touch it, Mrsha. It could be…well, it’s gross.”

  “It’s a grub. A bee larvae. And that—I think it’s jelly.”

  “Jelly?”