by R W Foster
“Do you always speak as your character?” Lucas said.
“Just when we play,” Stacy said, stretching.
Anderson interrupted. “Carter, did you fill Lucas in on Drago?
“I did.”
“Excellent. Let’s set up our scene and start slinging some dice.” Anderson picked up his index cards and flipped through them. When he had them in the right order, “You’ve come to a shattered village. A few buildings burn, but most have been reduced to rubble.” He glanced at us. “Show me your positions on the map.”
We placed our miniatures on the grid that Anderson had drawn. As was usual during our adventures, Drago was in the advance position, followed by Shauna and Ox. Luwaxana brought up the rear.
“Why do you have them positioned like this?” Lucas asked, looking at me.
“It’s the soundest formation as far as tactics are concerned. Drago leads because he’s the tank. Shauna is the most dexterous and Ox is the sponge. Luwaxana has the sharpest senses, so she makes sure we aren’t ambushed.”
“What’s the difference between a tank, and a sponge?”
“A tank has the highest armor class. The sponge has the highest hit points,” Mike said.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for the sponge to be in the front to soak up any damage? Let Ox take the lead.”
Megan spoke up. “The way Carter explained this to me, when I raised the same question, is it makes more sense to have the guy that’s hard to hit in front to distract the others. Just because Ox can take a lot of hits doesn’t mean he should.”
“Good point,” Lucas said.
“May we continue now, or do you need to know about the strategy?” Anderson said.
Lucas stared at him for a time before shaking his head. Anderson rolled a few dice, consulted his cards, and then turned to Mike. “What do you want to do?”
“Luwaxana is going to scan around and make sure no one is sneaking up on us,” Mike said.
“Okay. That requires a check. Beat a DC of twenty-three.”
Lucas whispered to me, “What’s a DC again?”
“The difficulty in doing something. In this case, I’m thinking Anderson’s got some bad guys trying to ambush us. Mike is about to roll and try to get his score higher than twenty-three. Watch.”
The twenty-sided die rolled over the table for a short distance. A fifteen came up. Mike smiled and traced his finger over his character sheet. “With ten points in my skills, and a plus three wisdom modifier, my total is twenty-eight.” Anderson nodded, consulted his notecards once more, wrote a note and passed it to Mike who read the message, and made his announcement, “Guys, we’re being followed. Should I circle around to behind them, or do y’all think we should ambush them?”
I adopted my infamous Irish brogue. “Nay, lass. We shall get ourselves undaircover an’ await whoaivair be followin’ us.”
“Carter, do you have to use that god-awful accent?” Megan said with a shudder.
“Is it necessary to discuss this every session, Keebles?” I said in my regular voice. “I told you, this is how they sounded in Drago’s clan.”
She sighed. “How can I persuade you not to use it anymore?”
‘Show me your boobs.’ I shrugged.
“Maybe you should show him your breasts, Megan,” Lucas said.
We both turned to look at him. I raised an eyebrow and she grinned at the big guy. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. Whatever she said made him blush. Anderson opened his mouth, only for Lucas to cut him off. “Let’s focus on the game guys.”
Anderson closed his mouth and blinked, leaning back in his chair. Stacy reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Keith?” She was one of the few allowed to call him by his first name.
“Nothing, Stace. I’m wondering about the mathematical probability of Lucas saying what I was going to.”
“One in three hundred fifty-five thousand, two hundred ninety-three,” Mike answered. He was our resident math whiz. A lot of times, I envied his ease with numbers.
3
After an hour of role playing, and one battle, we had managed to ambush the boss of the area, a savage gold dragon. Unlike in Dungeons and Dragons, they weren’t aligned based on their colors. Anderson called for a recharge break. Mike and Stacy went into the living room, Megan sat next to Lucas, talking with their heads together. Anderson scowled at them. I pushed a curtain aside to watch people walking by.
The sunshine filled day was gone; in its place, a nasty thunderstorm. Rain pounded the window, streaking the light from the street lamps. Lightning sheeted across the sky, drawing my attention upwards and across the street. Grey clouds warred with blackish ones. Another flash of static electricity. An image flashed over the clouds in the afterglow of the fulmination. ‘I couldn’t have just seen a castle. That’s crazy.’
Yet the vision stayed with me: A towering black edifice with massive fortifications and intimidating crenellations. The walls seemed like razor sharp teeth. Dragons soared in the air around the thing and a horde of monsters spewed from the tremendous drawbridge.
“Hey, Carter!” Anderson’s voice broke into my contemplation. “You gonna rejoin us, or not?”
“Sure. I’ll be right over.”
I turned, and another flash of lightning froze me in place. A tall man in buckskin fought with what could only be a demon with ebony skin, a pair of forward-growing horns above its glowing red eyes and short ones growing upward from its forehead. The two moved in a blur. They seemed to be equal in skill, but then, the human thrust a pure white sword into the chest of his opponent. The demon crumpled to the ground, and the image faded from view. I shook my head, and returned the table. I vowed to stay away from Keebler cookies and Pepsi. ‘They’ve got me hallucinating.’
“What’s Drago gonna do?” Anderson asked.
“Huh?”
“Everyone else has decided to explore, or move. What is Drago going to do?”
I gave myself a mental shake and lifted the miniature. The pewter figure felt red-hot. I dropped it, and flapped my hand as pain bit into me as I hissed in agony and cussed.
“Are you okay, Carter?” Megan asked, touching my shoulder. “Did you cut yourself?”
“No,” I groaned. “This fucking thing is hot! Who’s the smartass?”
Hurt turned to anger. I glared around the table, but everyone appeared to be concerned. Mike poked my figurine with the tip of his finger and looked back at me.
“This is cool, Carter. You couldn’t have been burned.” He picked the little statue up. “See?”
While I stared in surprise, Megan pulled my fingers open. She gasped and Stacy said, “Ohmigod.”
I glanced down. A nice outline of Drago’s features was seared into my flesh. I got up and hurried over to the sink. I ran cold water over the burn while the others whispered about what had happened. The stinging stopped and I held my hand up to the light. With the exception of the faint outline of Drago’s sword, the scald was gone.
“Hey, Carter! Wake up, man. What’s Drago gonna do?”
I blinked. I was seated next to Megan and Stacy. Mike was next to his girlfriend and Lucas was on the other side of Megan. Anderson stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed. I stared down at the battle grid. A Minotaur miniature was before Drago’s.
“Kill him, of course.”
“Roll for it.”
As the others played, I switched my attention to trying to figure out what had happened. I gave a surreptitious peek at the palm of my hand, the outline of Drago’s sword still visible. However, it had the appearance of an old wound. ‘What the hell?’ I wondered as I refocused on the game.
4
I found a video message in my e-mail from a classmate I tutored thanking me for helping her. After I climbed into bed, I went to sleep with visions of my gorgeous red haired tutee swirling through my head. Somewhere near midnight, I was awakened by an intense glow. I opened my eyes and regretted it. The light seared the retinas, spawning tears as I
squeezed them closed again. I gave myself a moment, and then squinted through tiny slits to see a shadowy person approaching me. The mysterious being stopped at the edge of the bed and the lambent energy from the luminosity faded away. He snapped his fingers, and illuminated the bedroom.
A big, bald man with a lot muscle definition, he looked like a tall, swarthy Punjabi. I gripped the sheet so tight my knuckles creaked. I felt dizzy, my chest constricted. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. My rock hard muscles were ready to propel me away if this giant reached for me.
With a voice like distant thunder, he spoke. “Carter Blake. I have great need of your aid. My long journey from home to find you was fraught with peril. I am the Rakshasha, Mordecai.”
‘Oh, crap.’
5
I think I passed out because the next thing I remembered was opening my eyes. My desperate hope that this had been a bad dream vanished like smoke before a strong breeze when I spotted Mordecai leaning on his ebony staff. I groaned aloud, and shook my head. I didn’t sense a threat from this guy, so I took my time studying him. He dressed in light brown leather armor trimmed in gold. ‘I have to admit, that looks magnificent.’ Leather gloves sat behind his belt. His calf-high boots were a little darker than his armor and trimmed in coal black. His riveting and disconcerting eyes were the purest white I'd ever seen. His eyebrows, in sharp contrast, were even darker than his staff.
After several moments of silence, he spoke once more. “Like what you see?” His words were so dry, I got thirsty.
I ignored the sarcastic question in favor of answering his earlier comment. “By all the hells, why would I help you? You're evil!”
He sighed. “Yet another thing you got wrong,” he said, almost to himself. He tapped the butt of his staff hard against my floor, and summoned the light. He grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me into it, growling, “I'll explain once we've arrived in the Realm.”
As his words faded from hearing, so too faded my world. Seconds later, we stepped on a broad plateau overlooking the most beautiful vista. A lush verdant forest stretched for miles away from the base. From my vantage point, I could observe a meadow deep in the trees with a river winding through it. Unknown leagues away, a chain of purple mountains. The air was so crisp and clear I had no concept of the distance from here to there.
A shadow fell over me and a gravelly voice said, “Carter Blake, welcome to the Realm.”
I swallowed hard, both scared and excited at the familiar name. I was in the world of BattleHammer.
Chapter 2
1
I turned to discover who'd welcomed me. I felt my jaw drop as I beheld a ripped man covered in Aureate scales. He was about 183 centimeters tall, had what looked like the whiskers of a cat near his mouth, and a white mane on his head. His eyes were orbs of molten gold. He wore chain mail greaves, cuirass, boots and gloves; at his waist hung a longsword in a baroque jeweled sheath. Pulling off a glove, he extended his hand. “I'm Angriz, one of Lord Mordecai's bodyguards.”
“You're a dragon.” I gave myself a mental forehead slap. ‘Smooth, genius.’
Angriz surprised me by chuckling. “I'm a half-dragon. Father was full blooded. Mother was human.”
“Did they die?”
He paused, his eyes now like golden mercury. “Indeed. Drago and his filthy followers killed them five years ago.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. They're in Vashara. Know this though, I will toss Drago on a sacrificial pyre while he still lives. That shall please them.”
I blanched at his casual tone. I couldn't believe it. “Wait a minute. Drago is a good guy.” Angriz's eyes flashed. His body tensed and he pulled himself up to his full height. I backed up in a hurry. In what I could only consider exceptional timing, Mordecai arrived, sparing me Angriz's wrath.
“As I said in your world, you are incorrect. He’s the most ruthless of the dark dwarves. He rose to power some twenty years ago. As soon as he consolidated his hold over his people, Drago launched a campaign of terror against the High Elves of Meryth Drangor. There peaceful cities used to lie in the forest below us. Over the last several years, he wiped out almost all of them in a systematic fashion. Not quite genocide.” Mordecai paused a moment as if calculating something. “There are maybe five hundred left. He did more than kill them, though. The bastard delighted in torturing them as well. He terminated any who opposed him, whatever the race; among those Aurora and Rhynskald, Angriz' parents.”
“And also Reitha, Lord Mordecai's wife.”
“Damn,” was all I could think to contribute. I straightened. “So, why do you say you need me? I have no knowledge of war, or of fighting for that matter.” I shook my head and stepped back. “Get someone else.”
Mordecai folded his arms. “Morgrid tasked me with bringing you to the Realm.”
“Wait a minute. You mean to tell me the god of the dwarves asked you to bring me here?”
“This is indeed so, Carter Blake,” said a different, feminine voice.
I turned and was struck dumb. The female striding towards us was statuesque and a couple centimeters shorter than me with hair the shade of a raven's wing draping her shoulders. A fringe over her almond-shaped eyes brought attention to their piercing blue color. Her well defined muscles rippled as she moved, reminding me of a panther: sleek, intelligent and powerful. She wore a simple white shift belted at her hips with a braided gold rope. As she strode up to us, the dress rose enough to show she was bronzed by the sun. My throat went dry at the sight of bared thigh. Leather boots went to her mid-calf. She came to a stop before us. Mordecai and Angriz bowed with deference.
“Lady Orwen,” Angriz acknowledged in a soft voice.
“Milady,” said Mordecai.
“Greetings, Gentles,” she responded. Then to me, “Carter Blake, welcome to Victory Keep, capital of Dragon’s Land. I am Adora Orwen, Warpriest of Kellün.”
I nodded in recognition. “He’s the god of the elves and woodlands.”
“You are well informed.” She glanced at the others. “Are you planning on keeping our guest out here?” she teased.
“Milady,” protested Angriz, “Lord Mordecai was informing him of our situation. He wasn't intending—”
“Thank you, Angriz,” interrupted Mordecai. “Lady Orwen spoke in jest. It is evident we have no intention of being rude.”
“Yes,” she said. “Angriz, you watched me grow up, why would you doubt that?”
‘Wow.’ I liked the way he forced her to admit the joke or else accept the rebuke. ‘Note to self: remember how he did that.’ She turned with alacrity, her dark hair, smelling of strawberries, swung wide, brushing my cheek, and beckoned for us to follow her.
2
I found myself looking at everything, my head swiveling like a metronome, only a lot slower. Victory Keep took my breath away. I estimated the outer walls, constructed of a dark blue-green stone, rose to maybe fifteen point twenty four meters. The crenelated top allowed archers to rain arrows on enemy armies. Scattered through the battlements, gargoyles leered down at all who dared trespass upon the road. Towers at each corner soared about fifty meters higher than the wall. The thoroughfare terminated at an immense coppery-gold gate. Above the gateway, a high relief of a colossal silver dragon clutching a dozen spears in one fist and the throat of a vampire in its other sat embedded in the fortification. The drake gave the impression of roaring at us as we passed beneath.
Angriz seeing me staring up at the relief, leaned down and whispered, “The herald of the Orwen family.”
I nodded in acknowledgment without looking at him. When my companions and I approached, the gate creaked up, sliding into a disguised recess. We trekked through a torch lit corridor. I noticed arrow slits at various levels in the walls and caught sporadic glints of light reflecting off sharp tips. ‘Are they all pointed at me?’ I swallowed hard, praying no one’s finger slipped. Moments later, the passageway ended at another metal door which glided without sound to the left
, at our approach before disappearing into the wall. We exited in time to see the draw bridge lower. An acrid stench filled my nostrils as we crossed the expansive moat, causing my eyes to water and burn.
“The channel contains acid and Slitters,” Angriz said sotto voce, pointing.
“What are Slitters?” I inquired.
Before he could answer, Lady Orwen halted the party. She took a shiny ebony gauntlet from a nearby guard, tugged it on, and gave a sharp whistle. Seconds later, I heard a low hiss, and then glimpsed a flash of gray. I blinked, fascinated by something strange perched upon her hand. A bipedal creature the size of a toad crouched in her palm. Long and ungainly arms descending from beside the animal’s chest. Reverse articulated legs settled into big, toad-like feet complete with a trio of toes, from the ends of which protruded razor-sharp claws. On its large hands were four digits. These, too, ended in wicked talons. Its hide was rubbery and gray. The creature’s thick, ropy hair quivered with its own dark energy. My jaw dropped when a greenish-black fluid dripped from its maw and hissed as it touched the gauntlet.
“This is a Slitter,” said Lady Orwen, staring at the beast, “so named for their preference of making hundreds of slits in their prey.”
“What do they hunt?” I asked with some trepidation.
“Everything,” came the swift, yet ominous, response.
“The ones here in the fosse were raised and trained by Her Highness,” Angriz said. “They only allow her to handle them. You'll want to stay away from them.”
The Slitter poised on her hand surprised all of us, me in particular, when it vaulted to my right shoulder, placed its hands on my ear and peered in. The creature brought its face up to my eye and stared for several seconds. I stopped breathing, waiting for it to decide to make slits in me. Instead, the Slitter crouched on its perch and seemed to be comfortable doing so. I worried about the green goo escaping from its maw, but the other-worldly drooling appeared to have stopped. I looked at the others and spotted the Lady staring slack-jawed.
