The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  They looked like small sticks, but with a bulb of…well, something strange on the ends. Erin had recognized them, though.

  “Matches! No way! That’s it, exactly! Do they work?”

  Octavia beamed, nodding and making her dreadlocks swing as she held one up to the light so Erin could see.

  “It’s my newest creation. It’s not stable—I could do more with it, but you see, I’ve found a way to blend just a tiny bit of Corusdeer horn with sulfur and—look!”

  She swiped the match down the side of the sandpaper box. Erin and Mrsha both gasped as the head of the match suddenly burst into flame. The Gnoll stared avidly at the flame on the end of the stick. How had Octavia done that? She’s simply moved the match…and there was fire! Was it magic? The Gnoll cub desperately wanted to try to do the same.

  “You did it! That’s incredible! How’d you do it in one day?”

  “Well, when you’re a talented [Alchemist]—I uh, might have made a few dozen prototypes. And stayed up all night. But once I realized how the general idea worked, it just came to me!”

  Octavia’s eyes were more than a bit red and she was swaying slightly on her feet. She put the box of matches on her counter as she explained more about how she’d made them to Erin.

  Mrsha crept towards the counter. She hesitated—Erin and Octavia were right next to her. But Erin was pointing back towards the open door to her inn and loudly complaining about Pisces kissing all the girls—and them enjoying it!

  Octavia looked over, and Mrsha stood up. She snatched the box of matches and scampered away, silent as a moth in the moonlight.

  “I’ll give you a box. I can make a lot more—and if I perfect the formula, I’ll be selling them for silver coins!”

  “Not bronze?”

  “I’m not giving my product away for nothing, Erin! But…let’s just say I’ll be making a bundle if I get this business of the ground. And I have you to thank for it!”

  “Cool! How much is my cut?”

  The [Alchemist]’s eyes widened. She began to splutter, before she saw Erin’s teasing grin. Still, that was an important point. Octavia took a breath and then she saw the door to her shop open, and a small bundle of white fur scamper out.

  —-

  Mrsha held one of the new matchsticks up in the cold morning air as she proceeded down the streets of Celum. Quite a few people were staring at her—Gnolls weren’t common at all in this city. Mrsha ignored them, and stopped by a street crossing.

  How had Octavia done it? She’d just struck the match—pulled it fast against the side of the sandpaper. Like—

  Mrsha slowly grated the matchstick against the sandpaper. It didn’t work. But then she moved her paw faster and the head flared and burst into flame!

  Mrsha instantly dropped the matchstick in alarm. It went out as it landed in some snow. She peered at the stick, heart beating fast.

  Fire! She’d made fire!

  It was an instinctual thing, for Gnolls to love fire. Like Humans and Drakes, it was that which had helped them separate themselves from the part that was simply wild. It had brought order and light into the night, shown them that they didn’t have to hide in the darkness.

  And Mrsha had made it. Without a flint and rocks. Without the need for dry tinder and time. She’d made fire.

  And it had gone out. Mrsha rooted around in the snow, and found the matchstick again. She tried to reignite the head, but it was burnt out.

  So they only worked once. But that was okay—the box Mrsha had taken had plenty of matches. She drew another, and lit it.

  The small flicker of light on the cold winter day was insignificant. Small. It was something that would have passed unnoticed in Erin and Ryoka’s world—well, excluding the present. Any child doing that on a street now would probably cause a bomb scare. But in general, the match was an antiquated, ordinary thing. Who would pay attention to Mrsha and her box of matches in the cold?

  Everyone, that’s who. A woman pasing on the street stared as Mrsha lit the second match and held it up in the wind. She blinked at the Gnoll. She suspected magic, but the way Mrsha blew out the flame and then lit another match informed her that it was not magic. She stopped and spoke to the Gnoll.

  “How did you do that?”

  Mrsha looked up in alarm. She understood the woman, but the first thing in her mind was guilt. Did she know Mrsha had taken the box without asking? Mrsha scampered away.

  “Hey, wait!”

  Mrsha ran back towards the shop. Then she saw who was striding down the street and ran back. Octavia caught sight of Mrsha and shouted.

  “There you are! Wait you little minx!”

  There was a certain tone adults could use that told children the consequences of not obeying would be far worse than if they did. Mrsha halted reluctantly. She hid the match box behind her as Octavia strode over.

  “I saw that! You’re…Mrsha, right? Well, that box belongs to me. You can’t just go around taking things—even if Erin does take care of you! Give it back!”

  She held her hand out. Mrsha eyed it and clutched the box tightly. She didn’t want to give it back! The matches were magical in a way that magic wasn’t!

  “Come on. They’re mine—you can’t take them! If you want them, you can get them from Erin. Now give…them…here!”

  Octavia was engaged in a tug-of-war with Mrsha when the woman who’d seen Mrsha light the match coughed politely.

  “Excuse me, are you’re the creator of those things?”

  The Octavia let go and Mrsha tumbled backwards with the box of matches. She fled a few feet away and turned to watch as Octavia stood and smiled sheepishly at the woman.

  “I am, Miss. I’m sorry you had to see that—a bit of reclamation of lost goods, I’m afraid. Don’t worry—they’re not dangerous.”

  “Oh, I know. But I was wondering—do you have any more?”

  “More?”

  Octavia blinked.

  “I’d love to buy some of these—flame strikers? I’m no [Mage] and these seen far quicker than flint and steel. What do you charge for a box?”

  The woman was already pulling out a purse. Octavia gaped, but then she put her best smile on her face.

  “I happen to have a few—they’re very experimental and new, of course. But I think I can quote you an affordable price…”

  Mrsha watched, eyes narrowed, as coins changed hands. The woman went away with a box—half filled with matches—and Octavia pocketed a few silver and bronze coins. Mrsha backed away warily as Octavia turned towards her. Only this time Octavia didn’t try to take Mrsha’s matches.

  “Well now, that was interesting.”

  The [Alchemist] took a few steps towards Mrsha. The Gnoll tensed, ready to run rather than be scolded, but instead the [Alchemist] girl appeared thoughtful. She squatted down next to Mrsha.

  “Advertising, hmm? I never wanted to pay for that, but if you consider that child labor is free—why not? It’s worth a shot! Little Miss, would you like a job selling those match sticks for me?”

  Mrsha just stared blankly at her. She didn’t quite trust Octavia’s smile, for all the [Alchemist] did it often. She edge away from Octavia.

  “Wait—okay, not a job!”

  Octavia waved her hands frantically as Mrsha looked down the street. She sighed as the Gnoll stared at her. Then Octavia smiled again.

  “I don’t mind you taking the box of matches, Mrsha. I really don’t. In fact, you can have them! Light up all of them if you want! What if I gave you these matches as well—”

  Mrsha found a second box of matches pressed into her paw.

  “—And you go out there and, uh, show them off? Drum up a little business? I’ll let you sell a few, and you can keep a third—half—okay, fine, you can keep what you earn. But you have to show people where you got them, alright?”

  The Gnoll child stared at the second box of matches, and then up at Octavia with narrowed eyes. This wasn’t how getting in trouble was supposed to go, she knew. But O
ctavia appeared jolly all of a sudden.

  “Just bring back people to my shop, okay? Tell them—okay, I’ll tell them. You just come back when you need more matches! I have to make more! A lot more!”

  She reached out and shook Mrsha’s paw energetically. Then Octavia went back towards her shop. She turned back and mimed striking another match.

  When she was gone, Mrsha scratched her head. She’d understood only a bit of that, but somehow, she now had another box of matches! She thought a bit more, and decided that this was good.

  The Gnoll padded back to the intersection at sat down on the paving stones. The men and women of Celum stared at the Gnoll, white and beautiful, sitting in the middle of their city. And they stared as she moved something in her hands and it burst into flame.

  Fire. Mrsha struck a match and stared into the small burning torch’s heart. She remembered fire. Fire was important in her tribe’s camp. It was something that gave heat, food, life. It was the center of their existence, in away. It kept the dark and monsters and fear of the night at bay.

  For Mrsha, it was memory. She felt the heat on her claws and flicked the nearly spent match away. Then she lit another one.

  People walking down the street stared and pointed at the little Gnoll lighting matches. But Mrsha was far away. She stared into the fire and remembered home. She’d dreamed of tending the fires, of being old enough to manage her own camp site. And now she had the ability to create fires at will.

  Another spent match fell into the snow and smoked for a second before extinguishing itself completely. Mrsha sighed.

  So brief. So short. But while it lasted…

  She lit another one, and the flame burned away a falling snowflake. It lit up part of the world, and a man walking down the street stopped and stared at the match held in Mrsha’s paw.

  It was very pretty. And warm. Mrsha just had to be careful, or the stick would burn down and scorch her fur.

  —-

  That was Celum, and the small miracle that stopped a street. In Liscor, a different sort of event was happening. It was localized, and went from hosue to house, usually terrorizing families. They would have called the Watch, but that was sorto f the problem.

  In the house of the Bitterscale family, the father, mother, and young boy and girl Drakes were sitting down to eat some lovely, fresh Fortressbeaver roast. It was a happy family, untroubled by thoughts of adventurers, Goblin Lords, or the new dungeon for the moment. They were about to eat when someone pounded on the door.

  “Who’s that?”

  Frowning, Wress Bitterscale went to answer the door. He opened it and found a huge Drake, dressed in an ill-fitting red costume—that was to say, leather armor painted red, with a red hat on his head and a lumpy bag slung over one shoulder.

  “Hey! Is everyone here? Good!”

  Relc grinned down at Wress. He pulled the door open wider and strode into the house.

  “Wress? Who’s there?”

  Vessra Bitterscale cried out in alarm as Relc strode into the room. The two children stared up at Relc as he grinned down at them, showing off all his teeth. He dropped the bag he was carrying onto the ground with a thump and waved at the kids.

  “Hey there! Merry Christmas! I’m Santa. Santa Claus. Where’s your chimney? Have you been bad or good? I’ve got coal!”

  The children backed away from Relc. He frowned as he rummaged around in his sack.

  “What? Hold on—some of these are broken. I’ve got to—hey, Klb! Get in here and help spread the cheer!”

  He turned and roared towards the doorway. Wress stared in horror as someone else entered the home. The two Bitterscale children stared up with wide eyes as an Antinium, tall and lithe, walked into the room. He had two swords sheathed at his side, and he walked like soldier. He also had a rough beard made of goats hair glued to his face.

  Klbkch clicked his mandibles as he stared down at the children. They appeared to be rooted to the spot with terror. As this was how most children acted around him, Klbkch thought he’d made a good impression. He slapped his belly with a crack of chitin on carapace, making all the Drakes flinch.

  “Ho. Ho. Ho. Have you been good children this year? If not, you will get the coal.”

  The Bitterscale family stared at the two guardsmen. They stared towards the door. But there was nowhere to run. And then Relc pulled out a clumsily wrapped dagger and tried to give it to the daughter.

  Point-first. In fairness though, that was an accident.

  —-

  She was…eight hours into her run? Ryoka had no idea, but she was cold, wet…

  And not feeling too bad. Ryoka had downed the second stamina potion thirty minutes ago, and that was keeping her going. As she ran through deep snow, following the shimmering lights overhead, she felt the burning energy inside her, giving her legs the strength to run.

  The Runners of Invrisil knew how to prepare for long treks. The Guild had not only given Ryoka several stamina potions to allow her to run all night, but they’d given her a healing potion as well. It helped with the chafing, the sore feet, and the occasional falls onto the hard ground. It wasn’t fun running in the middle of a blizzard towards a village, but, Ryoka had to admit, it wasn’t bad.

  The Frost Faeries made all the difference. They flew ahead of her, lighting the way. Without them, Ryoka wouldn’t have known where to go. But they led her on, giving her the surety that she was going in the right direction.

  The only problem was her speed. Despite her potions, Ryoka still wasn’t moving that quickly in such horrible conditions. Of course, she wasn’t going that snow either.

  The snow was ankle-deep in the best of places and getting deeper by the hour but Ryoka had gotten used to running in such conditions. She wouldn’t have called her progress fast, but when she stuck to the relatively shallower roads she made good progress. She might have to run late into the night, but she’d probably get to the village on time, especially with the stamina potions.

  Unfortunately, not everyone saw it that way. The trouble had started five hours into the run. Ryoka had heard grumbling from up ahead, but it had been silenced by Ivolethe. Three hours later, though, she could hear the complaints from the faeries flying around her.

  “Hurry up, slow slug! We don’t have all day!”

  “Yes, run faster! Snail! Worm!”

  They were getting bored. That was the problem. The other faeries that had joined Ivolethe had quickly lost the spirit of giving and regained the spirit of boredom.

  And spitefulness.

  Ryoka felt a snowball smack her on the back of the head. She gritted her teeth. She’d forgotten how objectionable most Frost Faeries were. Ivolethe was sweet as candy compared to her sisters.

  “I’m moving as fast as I can.”

  “Not fast enough!”

  “Yes, we tire of this! Let’s do something interesting!”

  A chorus of voices agreed with the second speaker. Ryoka shook her head.

  “If you’re tired, you can leave. I’m going to keep running, though.”

  The faeries grumbled, but made no reply. They flew away from Ryoka, letting their lights fade in the flurrying snow. Ryoka prayed they’d left as she continued onwards, following the edge of a pond of some kind. She stared at Ivolethe’s red light ahead, using it as a compass.

  It turned left. Ryoka followed it—

  And found herself tumblging down a cliff. She shouted in confusion as the ground gave way beneath her and she slip and fell downwards. She hit the gorund and lay there stunned for second. Then she found her voice.

  “Ivolethe! What the hell was that!?”

  “It was not me!”

  The faerie flew towards Ryoka as the girl got up. Ryoka took a step towards Ivolethe, but then she spotted another red light floating towards her. And another. And another—

  “Hah! We got her, sisters!”

  “She fell! Let us do it again!”

  The other faeries, now all glowing the same color as Ivolethe, swo
oped around Ryoka, crowing with delight. Ryoka swore loudly.

  “You have got to be kidding me! Stop that! I need to get to Riverfarm!”

  “Hah! This is far more fun than bringing you!”

  “Yes, yes! She wants to go to that stinking village? Let her find the way. Only, which way is the right way? Choose, mortal!”

  Ivolethe, or a faerie that might have been her, swooped closer to Ryoka’s face.

  “This way. Ignore those fools!”

  Another faerie flew past her.

  “No, you idiot! This way! I’m the real Ivolethe, not that faker!”

  “No, it’s me!”

  “Nae, I!”

  “Ignore all these clods! Run, and do not look back!”

  Suddenly, all the faeries were flying around Ryoka, in every direction. She swore as the red lights spread out around her, each one shouting her name. Ryoka cupped her hands to her mouth.

  “Ivolethe! Tell me about my German!”

  “‘Tis rot! A moose gargling a toad sounds far better!”

  One of the faeries ahead of Ryoka shouted that. Ryoka grinned and ran towards it as the other faeries made annoyed noises. Ivolethe led Ryoka onwards, but now the other faeries were flying around Ryoka, getting in her way, spraying her with snow—

  And trying to lead her astray. Like the will o’ wisps that Ivolethe had resented being compared to, the faeries tried to confuse themselves with Ivolethe, flying in her path and then breaking away. Ryoka attempted to keep her eyes on Ivolethe, but the faeries constantly mimicked her voice, claiming Ryoka had been led astray.

  Soon, Ryoka had no idea if she was following the right Ivolethe again. She shouted, got a response, and set off once more. But again the faeries made her progress grind to a halt.

  “Fuck you!”

  She shouted up at the glowing red lights flying in every direction. The faeries laughed mockingly. Ryoka felt despair and fury building in her chest. She couldn’t get lost out here! But there was no way to get rid of the faeries! And she couldn’t tell them apart!