by Red Culver
Success!
Damage Total: 8
Remaining HP: 1
As the shock wore off, pain seared my body. I could smell my scorched flesh.
"That was a success?!" I shouted as I picked myself up and ran. Apparently the wounds were superficial— my new muscles still worked just fine.
Save for half damage, said Flik. You got lucky, boss. Now shut up, I’m looking for an offramp.
"Anything will do!" I said. I stole a glance over my shoulder and saw Mordred drifting towards me. His fingers were moving again as another spell formed on his lips.
Left! Flik snapped. Left! I hared left and slipped as the Silver Way disappeared beneath my feet. Not disappeared— there was a branch here, dipping down at a steep angle. I slid down it on my ass and hit a lower branch feet-first.
Right! shouted Flik. I sprinted in that direction, totally lost, praying my daemon really had his intentions in the right place.
Now jump!
I jumped, and saw only black void beneath me.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cerissa
I HIT THE ground running. I expected the hard, gleaming chrome of the Silver Ways, but the earth beneath my feet was soft, springy, and green. Ahead of me was a broad dirt road winding out from a tall, shady treeline maybe a hundred yards away. That seemed like a good place to hide, so I headed for it.
As I reached the road, a small wagon emerged from the shelter of the trees and rolled to a stop. Its lone mule stood cropping the grass along the verge as the the driver stood up in her seat, one hand shading her eyes from the bright sunshine, watching me run. I couldn’t make out her face, but her hair was bright red under a dusty tricorne hat. She wore a gray traveling cloak, equally as dirty, a simple brown tunic and breeches, and tall mud-splattered riding boots.
"Hey you! You in some kinda trouble?" she called as I sprinted along the road. I ignored her, but she tried again. "I can help, y’know! I live for trouble!"
I stumbled to a halt in front of the cart. My plan had been to run as fast as I could and hope for the best, but it struck me that a stranger's help was better than none.
"Any good with wizards?" I asked. She shrugged and hopped down from the wagon. As she sauntered towards me she gave me a good look up and down.
"Wizards are people, ain’t they? I’m good with people."
"Great," I said. "I’ve got a wizard after me."
"Hop in," she said, jerking a thumb back at the wagon. I dashed around to the back and, finding it open, scrambled in. The interior was mostly cluttered with crates and big nets woven from reeds, but a green velvet dress hung neatly on one wall. Most of the nets were tied up to make loose bags, all of which were filled with big, brown mushroom caps. I shimmied my way in between a few of the bags and twisted so I could look out the back of the wagon. An earthy smell like fresh dirt enveloped me.
Mordred faded into existence at about the same spot I’d come running in from the Silver Ways. One moment the air was empty, then in the space of a few blinks, Mordred had gone from a translucent image to a real, pissed-off-looking wizard. He glanced around and quickly noticed the wagon.
He strode forward, a scowl on his face. Soon he was out of my field of view, but I could hear him calling to the young woman as he approached.
"You there, wench! Have you seen a man come this way?" I felt my stomach flutter with anxiety. I was about to find out if she really wanted to help me, or if this was all some weird prank.
"I’ve seen men come in a lotta ways," said the young woman. "You lookin’ for one in particular?"
"I am," intoned Mordred. "A young man, well built, with brown hair and eyes. He would have been running."
"Sounds like just my type," the redheaded woman replied. There was a note of sadness in her voice. "Shame I ain’t seen any such fella. You see him, you tell him to come find me, yeah?"
"Hmm," rumbled Mordred. I could imagine the two of them facing off: Mordred glaring down at the girl, maybe rubbing his chin, as she stood with defiant hands on her hips. At last, Mordred spoke again. "If you see such a man, I want you to find me. I am called Mordred."
"You got it," said the woman. "Hey, these mushrooms ain’t gonna cart themselves, so…"
"Be on your way," Mordred said. I heard a few footsteps on the packed earth of the road, then a shouted incantation followed by a flapping sound like huge wings.
"Did you know he could fly?" said the young woman a moment later, peeking around the corner of the wagon. "If I’d’ve known he was that powerful I don’t think I’d’ve helped you."
"Is that powerful magic?" I asked as I worked myself free of my mushroomy hideaway.
"You bet it is. C'mon, I’ll give you a hand." She reached out and pulled me the rest of the way out of the wagon.
"So," I said as I brushed brown bits from my T-shirt and jeans, "where are you headed?" She pointed up the road. Just over the horizon I could see the tops of spires and towers of stone.
"Gate," she said. "You going that way? I could use the company."
Despite her urging, the girl’s mule refused to move any faster than a sluggish plod, so it took a few hours to reach the city of Gate. That gave us plenty of time to chat, though, and to my pleasure she was an eager conversational partner.
"Thanks for saving me," I said, sticking out my hand for a shake. "I’m Alex."
"Cerissa," she said. She stuck her hand straight out and held it there for a moment, until I awkwardly retracted my own and she did the same. Apparently they didn’t shake in this world. That reminded me…
Flik? I thought. Can you hear me?
You bet, boss, came the daemon’s voice in my mind. I was wondering when you were gonna figure that out.
Where exactly are we?
Great question. Here, I’ll show you. Words began to glow in my vision like they had when I’d been scorched by Mordred’s spell.
World: Borealis
That’s it? I thought peevishly.
It’s up to you to learn more, said Flik. Okay, if that’s how it was gonna be, at least I had a local contact.
"So, Cerissa," I said aloud. "What brings you to Gate?"
"You were sittin' in it," she said with a smile.
"Mushrooms?"
"Yep." She snapped the reins, and her mule ignored her. "You saw the forest back there? Got a lovely little mushroom farm not far deep. I pop over to Gate every Lionsday for the market."
"You live in the forest? And farm mushrooms?" Somehow this struck me as weirder than wizards flying around throwing fireballs. It was so… mundane. But I got a fresh taste of the fantastic a moment later, when Cerissa lazily tucked her long red hair behind an ear.
The ear was long and pointed, sweeping back from the side of her head.
Race: elf
No shit, I thought.
I thought shit was holy? said Flik.
"So... why did you save me?" I asked. I didn’t want to complain, but it had been bugging me, and the revelation that Cerissa was some kind of elven mushroom farmer only made the whole thing more mysterious.
"Fair question." Cerissa shook her head. "Not full sure myself. Been on my own for a couple years now since my folks died. Guess I was just looking for some excitement. Mushroom farming is a good enough living, but it’s not what you'd call thrillin' and glamorous."
"I get that," I said. "I couldn’t help but notice that dress in the back of the wagon."
She turned away, and her hair fell from behind her ear, hiding her face. "A girl’s allowed to dream big."
My mountain of remaining questions had to wait. We’d reached the gates of Gate, where guards in steel chain armor and blue-and-white tabards were questioning entrants. The city itself spanned both banks of a wide, winding river, and was bound by the circle of a high stone wall. Aside from the river gates, which were barred with rusty iron grates, this was the only way in or out.
"What are you hauling?" asked a guard as he strode up to our wagon. He was shaped like a barrel, sho
rt and wide, with a pug nose and sharp, beady eyes under bushy black eyebrows. A broad axe hung from his belt.
Race: niflung
Those were those stocky little builders, I remembered.
"Ealdenwald mushrooms for market," said Cerissa.
"Ravis, check it out," the guard called to one of his fellows. The dark-skinned man called Ravis disappeared behind the wagon, and soon I could hear him pawing through Cerissa’s belongings.
"You’re awful pretty to be selling mushrooms," said our guard. "You ever think about becoming a guardsman’s wife?"
"Sorry, handsome," said Cerissa. "Already married to this one." I almost objected, but luckily, I had the sense to keep my mouth shut.
"I thought you elves only married your own kind," said the guard. I realized he’d been leering openly at Cerissa since we pulled up.
"Nah, we just don’t marry niflung," said Cerissa. The guard’s face grew dark as he lowered his bushy brows.
"Ravis, you find anything?" he yelled. The man called Ravis— a human, I thought— emerged from behind the wagon holding Cerissa’s green dress.
"Just this, Captain Donner," he said.
"Now why would a mushroom girl need such a pretty dress?" asked the niflung called Captain Donner. "You sure you’ve not got other plans in the city? We’re not taking in strays at the moment."
"Just the market," insisted Cerissa. "Be gone tonight like we were never here."
Captain Donner grunted. "Better take you in for questioning anyway. Can’t be too safe."
"Captain, I—" Cerissa began.
"If you don’t want to use your pretty mouth to answer questions," said Donner, "I can think of other things to do with it."
I saw Cerissa’s hands tighten on the wagon reins. Her mouth set in a thin line and her cheeks grew flushed. I decided I’d better intervene.
"I’m not her husband," I said.
"What?" said Captain Donner.
"What?!" snapped Cerissa.
"I’m her pimp," I said. I tried to keep my face serious as I stared down at the captain. "I’m bringing her here to work at a brothel. You want to have some fun with her, you can, but it’ll cost you. If you let us in now I can get you a nice discount."
The niflung guard frowned and tapped his fat fingers on the shaft of his axe. "Which brothel?"
"Look at her," I said. "Beautiful elf, young, red hair. Where do you think?"
"Two-Legged Mermaid, huh?" said Ravis, who had wandered over with the dress still in his hands.
"A man of taste, I see," I said. "Let us through now, come see us tonight. Both of you. We can do a group rate."
"Go on then," said Captain Donner, waving us toward the gate. "She better act like she enjoys it, though."
CHAPTER FIVE
Adventure Is the Job
"YOU THINK YOU’RE the damned second coming of Will Swift, don’t you, you clever bastard?" It was the first thing Cerissa had said to me in hours. Apparently telling the guards she was a whore, while effective, had offended her mushroom-farmer sensibilities. I was actually quite proud of my quick thinking, but Cerissa had been madder at me than at Captain Donner. We’d ridden into the city in stony silence.
"Hey, it worked, didn’t it?" I crossed my arms. "Sorry I saved you."
She kept her back to me, and before she could respond, the innkeeper came back with our room key. We were standing in the homely common room of the Red Donkey, a cheap travelers’ inn built along the inner wall of the city. I didn’t have any money or gear; in fact, I was still wearing my T-shirt and jeans, plus my shades, of course. So Cerissa had gotten us a room, or so I thought until I tried to follow her up the back stairs to the second floor.
"Uh-uh," she said. "You can sleep down here. I don’t still hate you in the mornin', we’ll talk."
She disappeared up the stairs before I could stop her. I turned with a sigh and surveyed the common room. A few wooden benches sat on either side of a long, stained table. A half-dozen small, worn plush chairs made a semicircle around a low hearth where a fire crackled. Between the two unwelcoming options, I thought, I’d rather have something soft.
Wrong choice, I thought for the thousandth time as I twisted to keep from falling off the little chair. The long benches were occupied by a pair of fat, snoring human merchants; a gang of equally noisy niflung had taken the other chairs.
Groaning, I stood. As I stretched my back for the third time in the last hour, I decided to give up on sleep all together. The way I’d left things with Cerissa was gnawing at me. She was my only friend in a strange land, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there had been a better way to get past the guards than by calling her a hooker.
I put on my shades and padded up the back stairs. I’d caught Cerissa’s room number from the innkeep; maybe if I apologized she’d let me sleep on the floor. Anything would beat the cacophony in the common room. As I went, colorful words appeared before my eyes.
1 HP healed!
Current HP: 2
Maximum HP: 9
I did feel a little better… My body was healing itself! Slowly, but still. That was good to know.
A single sliver of lamplight illuminated the hall at the top of the stairs. It spilled from a room with its door slightly ajar, and widened as the door swung inwards. It was Cerissa’s room— and a moment later, she appeared around the open door. She was dressed all in black aside from her grey riding cloak, with her hair pinned up beneath her tricorne. A sword and dagger hung from her belt. She shut the door silently, and crept down the hall to a window at the far end. She opened it with a single smooth motion, hitched her legs over, and dropped out of sight.
I dashed back down the stairs as quietly as I could and hurried out the front door of the Red Donkey. Aside from a change in the tone of the niflungs’ snoring, my passing had no effect on the room.
I came around the corner of the inn and found an empty alley. Suddenly new letters blazed in my vision:
Perception Skill Throw: 6 + 1 = 7
Failure!
"What was that?" I said quietly.
Perception skill check, said Flik. He was whispering despite not actually making sound. There was something there to see, but you missed it.
"Something to see, huh?" The alley connected to a narrow service street by the far corner of the inn. The only other exit was behind me. Maybe I’d just missed Cerissa. I sprinted down the alley and turned into the service street just in time to see Cerissa disappear into another connecting street.
I followed, moving as fast as I dared. I didn’t want to rely on my lousy Perception skill if I didn’t have to, and that meant keeping the elf in my sights. Over the next half hour, Cerissa led me on a long, twisting path through the unfamiliar city of Gate. It was all I could do to keep up with her without being spotted, and I was soon completely lost. Eventually we stopped before the gates of a large cemetery.
She’s not a mushroom farmer, is she? I thought.
Sure seems not, said Flik. I’m enjoying all this sneaking around, though. Are you always like this?
Well… no, I admitted. Never. But I’m a Wayfarer now, right? Adventure is part of the job.
Adventure is the job, boss, corrected Flik.
Far at the back of the cemetery was a row of hunched marble mausoleums. Hidden behind a mossy stone angel, I watched as Cerissa stopped before one with the name MONTAIGNE carved in bold letters above the door. She drew a small case from beneath her cloak and pulled something from it. Then she set to work at the door. I realized with a shock that she was picking the lock.
Mushroom farmer, hell— Cerissa was a thief!
Cerissa soon had the lock open. Next she took a small leather bladder from her cloak and did something to the hinges of the door. She eased the door open a crack and slipped into darkness of the mausoleum.
I stood uncertain for a few minutes. I was enjoying the chase, and testing the limits of my altered body was satisfying. No complaints so far. But Cerissa had been kind to me, and now I
was prying into her business. So what if she was a robber? Thievery had crossed my mind the minute Flik told me that getting and spending money was the way to advance under the Rules.
A short, high scream cut my contemplations short. It came from the mausoleum— Cerissa! I dashed forward, found the door still slightly ajar, and plunged into the darkness.
For a moment I was blind; then I made out a torch guttering at the far end of the chamber. I hurried between rows of stone coffins until I stood at the head of a staircase spiraling down. The torch sat in a bracket beside me. I grabbed it and set out down the stairs.
A few turns brought me to a landing well below ground level. In the faint light of my torch I made out another chamber of coffins opening before me. Two statues stood in the middle of the room, indistinct in the gloom. I approached cautiously, then froze about halfway to the figures. One of them had moved.
The man-shaped creature opened a wide mouth full of needle teeth. A long, pointed tongue lolled out. It was naked, its mottled grey skin blending into the shadows around it. Its red eyes locked on mine.
What the hell is that? I thought frantically.
You’ll find out! said Flik.
A thousand plans shot through my mind, most of them involving fleeing in terror. Then something clicked: the other statue wasn’t a statue either. It was Cerissa, frozen in place with her sword in her hand. I leapt forward, shouting and swinging my torch.
The creature stumbled back from my onslaught, hissing between its teeth. I put myself between it and Cerissa. So far so good, but what next?
My eyes on the monster, I dropped the torch and slipped Cerissa’s dagger from its sheath.
Dagger +1 equipped!
Attack Bonus: +2
Damage: 1d4 + 1
I darted forwards and jabbed at it with the dagger as neon words flashed across my vision.
Attack Roll: 10 + 2 = 12
The dagger slipped smoothly into the creature’s body, passing between its ribs and shredding papery grey flesh.
