The Failed Fellowship

by Michael R. Underwood

  She regretted the power bar she'd devoured in the car, since it was now threatening to rush up her gullet and take her for a ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl.

  Interminable minutes later, the ship broke through the storm and sailed easy for a short time before appearing in a forest grove, the viewscreen pointing up into a purple-tinged sky.

  "That could have gone smoother," Roman said, taking the lead for Understatement of the Month.

  "We got here, at least. But we're nearly three weeks behind on whatever this breach is. Gear up on the double so we can get into town and figure out what's happened."

  King and Roman threw on cloaks and went to stand outside while Mallery, Shirin, and Leah changed.

  Leah's outfit was classic bard—poofy shirt under a studded leather jerkin, leggings, and Golden Age Robin mini-boots. A brocaded flat cap with an ostrich feather completed her outfit. A live steel version of the espada ropera hung from her belt in a sheath. She thought back to her first mission and the brace of guns Shirin had handed her. This was much more her speed. But it also meant they were expecting a fight.

  Mallery wore scale mail and had a big-ass shield with a sunburst design strapped to her back, a mace slung from her belt. That'd make her the cleric.

  Shirin wore a massive robe over a fine silk dress with leather straps wrapped over and around, belt laden with pouches and bottles filled with bright-colored liquid. Wizard.

  This wasn't Rom-Com World, where everything was solved with kissing and honest communication, or Science Fiction World, where Roman did the dirty work. On this mission, they'd all have to fight. They'd be a heroic fellowship, adventurers looking to right wrongs and fulfill prophecies. Her hands shook with excitement.

  The women switched out to stand guard. The ship had landed smack-dab in the middle of a forest. But everything was cast in a sickly light, thanks to the sun being shrouded in purple clouds, casting the world in weird light.

  Leah pointed. "Five bucks says that light is part of the reason we're here."

  "No bet," Mallery answered. "The question is, where does it come from, and how do we stop it?"

  "How is this going to work? If we're here to patch a breach, do we need to recruit the heroes, levy an army, and lay siege to the castle? I'm totally up for a good siege."

  Shirin joined in. "Sieges are much more fun when you're on the outside and sitting in the back, with food, instead of on the inside, eating leather straps." She spoke with the air of someone who had done both.

  "Have you been in sieges? Here?" Leah asked, not at all hiding her enthusiasm.

  Shirin shrugged. "If Tough Guide to Fantasy Land had a bingo card, I'd be a winner twice over."

  "I can totally make a bingo card. My bag has parchment, right?"

  "I'm sure you can find better things to do with it. Like compose some genre-appropriate poetry or songs to fit your archetype, Ms. Bard."

  "Can't I just Olde English up some Lady Gaga and call it good?" she asked, not entirely joking.

  Roman spoke from inside the hatch, "’Bad Romance’ would make a pretty good Broadside Ballad." He emerged, decked out in polished but dinged breastplate over chain. He had a greatsword slung over his shoulders, and no less than three more weapons slung at his belt. Every inch of Roman's outfit was loaded with weaponry. Human Cuisinart™ in the best tradition of Obsidian RPGs. It was ridiculous and impractical, but because they were in Fantasy world, it worked.

  He jumped out of the hatch opening and landed with a substantial thud in the moss-covered clearing.

  King stepped into the opening of the hatch, and while he was wearing a shiny metal helmet, it did not have big Kirby-esque wings or other giant swooping parts. It was a standard Norman nasal helm, the rest of his kit a full suit of plate mail. His weapon of choice was a beaten longsword with a far-newer and polished silver hilt, leather grip, and a gryphon-headed pommel.

  "How come I get jack-all for armor?" Leah asked.

  "Learn to move in the heavier gear and you can wear it on-mission," King said. "Plate is more maneuverable than most people think, but only in the real world. Here, this suit moves like Iron Man by way of Stay Puft thanks to how fantasy stories are told. I've gotten used to it, though. And it'll stop near about anything. Let's get on the road. I want to make town by nightfall in case this breach comes with bonus monsters. See to the camping gear."

  For lack of horses, the team had brought a cart. Leah didn't have to pull it, but she did have to load it while Roman backseat-pull-cart-driver-ed her.

  King set the ship’s Phase Manipulator, and the ship was replaced by a thick stand of trees.

  And with that, they were off. Roman trudged along with the gear, while Leah walked behind the cart with Mallery at her side, King and Shirin at the front.

  "Any guesses about the plot?" Leah asked, but kept on talking. "I hope we get an invading kingdom or breach in dimensions, like a spirit invasion or something."

  "We're in Fallran, which trends really traditional. So, I'm betting on succession war gone messy or a Dark Lord."

  "Betting on Dark Lord is like betting that the couple gets together in the end in Category Romance. You're automatically right more than 95% of the time," Leah said.

  "Doesn't mean I'm wrong. Three of the last four times we've come to Fallran for a breach, it's been to overthrow a Dark Lord."

  "Maybe there will be a good twist this time."

  "If we're here, it was probably a bad twist."

  Leah nodded, though she couldn't help but be excited. Soon she'd see halflings, dwarves, elves, magic, monsters, and a dozen other impossible things that she'd never expected to see in any greater detail or immediacy than a 3-D IMAX.

  They reached the nearest village just as the sun was setting in the distance, purple light fading toward flat black. The sign out front of the small town proclaimed it Ham's Horn.

  "Shouldn't there be stars or a moon by now?" Leah asked.

  "Yes. There should," Shirin said. "That's new."

  "Another question to ask," King said. "Spot me the nearest tavern and we'll get started."

  The streets of the town were already nearly empty, giving Leah a quick flash back to the town in her first mission, people running scared from the Williamson gang. She caught brief glimpses of dirty faces, heads adorned by snoods and flat caps, people turning cloaks against the cooling of evening.

  A painted sign of frothing ale welcomed them just inside the town square. Roman hauled the cart toward the stable.

  The tavern was a cobbled-together wood-and-thatch Cliché Golem, and Leah loved every inch of it. The roaring fire along one wall, the gnarled wooden tables, the bustier-clad serving wenches, the shadowed booths in three corners, the tired and cloaked parties huddled around the tables, and the timeworn innkeeper behind the bar, barking orders at the girls whose family resemblance was undeniable.

  Her hands instinctively moved to arrange her dice or type LFG in the chat box that didn't exist.

  "Try to look a little less like a fresh mark?" Mallery said, nudging Leah with an armor-copped elbow.

  "But...tavern! Bartender. Wenches. Do I need to pose as a wench? I think I could totally wench it up."

  The team settled into a corner booth, putting Leah in the corner to minimize the impact of her gawking.

  Chapter Three

  So, You Meet in a Tavern

  Shirin and Roman went to the bar, leaving Mallery to wrangle Leah.

  Shirin pushed her cloak back and took a seat at a stool by the bar. "She's really geeked out about this place."

  Roman shrugged. "It's to be expected. We all have our genre kryptonite. Remember the first time Mallery touched down in Rom-Com World?"

  Mallery had grinned so hard that she had to take ibuprofen for the jaw pain.

  Shirin nodded to the innkeeper, saying, "Hail and well met. My friends and I are looking for supper, drinks, and some rooms for the night." She kept the language strictly by-the-book. They didn’t want to stand out, at least not until they
’d found the breach.

  The big man nodded, wiping his hands on his apron. "Of course, milady. My girls will see to your meal." He moved to a cabinet and found a set of keys. “Have ye need of one or two rooms?"

  "Two, please. Adjoining."

  "Of course." He picked out two keys and handed one to Shirin, the other to King. "Numbers three and five, on the right. It's three silvers each."

  Shirin slid a handful of coins across the ale-stained bar. "Thank you, kind sir. And your name?"

  "I'm Jalen, and my girls are Jara, Kara, Lara, and Mara, tallest to shortest," he said with the cadence of a rehearsed bit.

  "A pleasure," Shirin said, slipping the key into an interior pouch.

  They rejoined the junior team members. Leah was still every bit as excited, talking with her hands and nearly vibrating with excitement.

  One of Jalen's daughters came by, Kara from what Shirin could tell, and dropped off five tankards of ale.

  "Real fantasy ale!" Leah said. "Prepare for a three-page description of food and drink flavors."

  "Please don't," Roman said.

  "Please do," Mallery countered.

  King huffed. "Focus, children."

  Leah took a swig of her ale, then set it down and wiped her mouth with an aaah.

  "How is it?" Shirin asked.

  "Terrible! Notes of leather, lemon, and abject poverty. I love it."

  Kara came back around, saying, "Milords and miladies, your rooms are ready."

  After securing their gear in the rooms, they returned to the common area, where Shirin returned to the bar, looking for information.

  "Jalen, my friends and I are just recently returned to Fallran. What news from the capital?"

  The innkeep looked to the window, scanned the room, then looked down. "You've not heard, then."

  "Clearly not," Shirin said. "What has happened?"

  "The King is dead, and a sorcerer sits the throne. That purple in the air, that's his dark magic, it is; brought the dead back to life. Stick your head outside after nightfall and you'll see 'em, armored skeletons clanking around, purple fire in their eyes like demons."

  Shirin put a hand over her mouth, feigning terror. That sounded like a plot thread if there ever was one.

  "How can this be? Surely someone has taken up arms against this fiend," she said, following the script and keeping her word choice in-genre.

  "That they did, milady. Theyn Lighthall and the heroes of the Battle of Haggen Gap laid siege to the castle with what remained of the royal army. But they...well. They lost. Theyn died; we know that. Haven't heard nothing else from the capital, save for the proclamations from them skeleton heralds the Night-Lord sends out."

  "They don't come in here, do they?"

  "No, they stay to the streets. But when they speak, it cuts through walls and cloth, right to your very soul. I had a headache for two days when the last one came through, I did. We're due for another one soon, so I've laid in more ale."

  "A wise choice, good sir. Thank you for your time." Shirin left another silver on the bar and returned to their table, where Leah gawked at the obligatory legs of lamb.

  "Being a vegetarian here is going to be tricky, isn't it?" she asked, looking around at the food on patron's plates.

  "Very," Shirin said. "I packed you some protein bars, but they'll only last so long and are hardly appetizing."

  "I've got some ideas for recipes that should work even on the road," Mallery said, proud.

  Those two weren't exactly subtle. But it wasn't affecting their work, and Shirin found it amusing in a puppy-love kind of way. They certainly weren't as annoying as her teenage son Hassan and his girlfriend. If the relationship started to impact the mission, King would need to know. Maybe he already did, and wasn't saying anything. King consulted her on almost but not quite everything. As team lead, he was expected to have and keep some secrets, for the good of the team and the Genrenauts writ large.

  "So, what's our next step?" Mallery asked. She was on her second ale, keeping pace with Roman. Despite her size, Mallery could hold her alcohol like a professional. One of the million skills you picked up as a social operator in the Genrenauts. It took Shirin a concerted effort to get a proper buzz on. Had for more than a decade.

  King said, "Next step is, we wait here like a good adventuring party and see what comes our way."

  "I know what comes next," Leah said. "Cloaked stranger with an invitation to adventure. Maybe we'll protect a caravan or roust goblins out of a mine. Then we step up and say, "Yes, good sir! We will be your heroes. And then it's off to fame and glory."

  "Keep it together, newbie," King said. But he was smiling as he said it. "We're here for the breach, not for glory."

  "Sorry, boss, but it's better that I get this all out tonight so I can be functional tomorrow. Also, we're all still slap-happy from three days of standby. Everyone needs to blow off some steam."

  King narrowed his eyes but looked like he was accepting her argument. Shirin raised a toast.

  "To not having to kill time in the ready room."

  "I'll drink to that," Roman said. They polished off their meal and then went back to waiting. Which involved Leah geeking out about fantasy, Shirin reviewing her grimoire, and Roman playing with his knife. Mallery watched the crowd and King kept an eye on the door.

  An hour later, their quest-giver arrived.

  Chapter Four

  A Cloaked Stranger Approaches Your Group

  Leah looked the man up and down. White, unassuming, average height. His cloak was threadbare, somewhere between gray and brown. From the corner of the booth, she didn't have a view of his boots, but she imagined they were just as shabby.

  Sliding into their booth in the spot beside Shirin, the stranger leaned into the table and said, "You are here for a reason."

  Leah wanted to take that as a straight line but let it stand. The story was starting, and she could hold her snarkiness in order to stay in character.

  Probably.

  Mostly.

  "Who are you?" King asked.

  "A friend. I speak on behalf of one who would see the glory of Fallran restored."

  Mallery leaned forward, her voice conspiratorial. "And by glory, you mean..."

  "An heir to the throne found, the Night-Lord deposed, the undead banished," the figure answered.

  King gestured to an open seat. "We're listening."

  "My patron is secluded in a farm outside of town, away from the patrols. We must join him now; he will explain." The cloaked figure stood and turned toward the door.

  "How do we know this isn't a trap?" Shirin asked.

  "There are five of you and but two of us. It takes courage to stand up to tyranny. If you haven't the stomach to risk the road at night, then our cause is doomed from the start."

  "Nice linguistic ju—" Leah cut herself off before finishing with an out-of-genre word "—justification. It puts all of the responsibility on us."

  King stood, hands open and to the side. "But as a show of trust, we will accompany you. If you but give us your name."

  The cloaked man gave a slow nod. "Declan. Now we must go before the patrols return."

  ———

  The group followed Declan out of the inn, raising some eyebrows as they went.

  Their would-be quest-giver Declan retrieved a lantern from the front of the inn and led the group toward the outskirts of the town. The woods closed in once more, casting jagged shadows on the road. The night sky was purple-blue, not yet full night. Leah wasn't sure whether full dark would be black or purple, given the magical which-a-ma-whatsit from the Night-Lord. After all, when you name yourself after the night, you're probably going to want to make your mark on it. Right? Probably.

  The road was narrow, only wide enough for one cart. The group carried their weapons with them, though Roman had only one pair of swords, not his entire mobile arsenal. Leah rested a hand on the pommel of her sword. An owl hooted behind her and she nearly jumped.

  "Stead
y," King said.

  Declan guided them off the road onto a side path. If they were walking into an ambush, no one from the town would be able to hear them. But knowing her team, it'd take a pretty large group to get the drop on them. Roman and King had besieged an entire base on their own not three months earlier. And this time, they had magic.

  Leah leaned over to Mallery. "So, we just wait to get ambushed or not?"

  "Not nearly that simple. I cast an aegis over the group as we left the inn. If anything comes toward us with an attempt to harm, we'll know."

  The sound of a ringing bell filled Leah's ears, coming from everywhere and nowhere.

  "Like that?" Leah asked.

  Roman cross-drew his blades. "To arms!"

  "What is it?" Declan asked, turning over his shoulder, moving the lamp as if trying to search for the danger.

  “I cast a spell of warning,” Mallery said. “Something’s coming.” Mallery shrugged the shield off her shoulder and looped her left arm through the straps. With her other hand, she held her necklace, a golden-winged eagle. "Felur watch over us. Let me be your shield made flesh; guide these heroes on their quest for righteousness."

  The figurine glowed bright gold, and the light rippled out, flashing into six spheres, one surrounding each Genrenaut as well as their guide. The spheres faded from view, but Leah felt their presence, like the closeness of a friend. It was a feeling that said, "I've got your back."

  Despite the imminent danger, Leah could not help but stare. Magic. No-shit, legit divine magic. “Whoa.”

  Mallery winked. “Stay with me. I’ll protect you.”

  She could swoon. Instead, she drew her sword and began to sing "Another One Bites the Dust."

  "Leah!" King said in a stage whisper.

  "It's what came to mind!" she said, then continued with the song. For verisimilitude, used a bad Cockney accent.

  King didn't have time to chide her further, since a squad of ten armored skeletons marched into view, coming from the pathway.