"Perhaps. I have traveled across these lands many years and bear writings of rituals from far off." She turned and set her satchel on a desk, producing a stack of ten different tomes. "The enchantment of holding does not also include one of organization. This may take some time."
Declan spoke up. "Please, sit, my friends. There are bedrolls enough for all."
"We have rooms back in the town," Leah said.
King gave Leah the “talk less” look. "And we can return to them in the morning. Shirin, let us try your divination method."
———
Shirin reveled in having Ioseph's assistance.
For the most part. Every wizard had their own way of doing things, so for the first hour, they were like cranky odd-couple roommates.
They spent several hours on ritual auguries, using components from his stash and from her mobile apothecary's kit.
The first working was a scrying spell—to learn the purpose and power of the Deathstone. This spell she could have done on her own, but Ioseph's help let them pierce the shroud of protection the Night-Lord's magic provided.
It was as Ioseph had said—the Hopestone had been corrupted. But now she had a working vision and arcane knowledge of how it was corrupted, and to what end.
After the first working, the rest of the team went to bed, with Declan standing first watch.
The next step was to divine the Deathstone's weaknesses. That was far harder. The shroud the Night-Lord had placed over the Hopestone hid it from easy magical analysis. The stone had been made centuries earlier, during the founding of Fallran. If it could not be purified, it would have to be destroyed.
Three hours, five attempts, and a small fortune of magical components later, they had a partial answer, nothing more. Even with Ioseph's help.
The spell's answer was blissfully clear, if not encouraging: What was once a beacon of hope can never be purified.
Which meant that they had to destroy the Deathstone. And that'd leave Fallran without its greatest magical protection. They'd close out one broken story and open up the possibility of any number of other dangers. Fallran's storied fate would continue. Another Dark Lord, another immortal threat. And another mission for the Genrenauts.
Ioseph was crestfallen, slumping from exhaustion. And probably disappointment. He was a donor figure that had failed in his role and yet lived to tell the tale.
He was Gandalf if Gondor had already fallen, Dumbledore facing a fascist wizard state under Voldemort.
"Then the stone cannot be saved,” he said. “It was pointless to hope, perhaps."
Shirin put her hand over Ioseph's, trying to give comfort. "Hope is never pointless. But sometimes it takes an unexpected shape."
She stood, stretching to work out the kinks in her back from hunching over for hours in candlelight. "This last divination requires that I call on a pact made long ago. I must consult alone, for my source is capricious and does not care for company."
In reality, she was calling in to Preeti for help.
Ioseph nodded. "Of course. Every wizard has their secrets."
"Wish me luck. If the fates are with us, I will have an answer by morning."
She walked out into the night, purple glow dimming the weaker stars. She walked to the edge of the woods, set down a spell of protection, and then activated her comm unit back to Earth Prime.
"Preeti, you still there?"
No answer. Preeti may have gone home for the night, but someone should be there. Maybe it was interference. She called again. Nothing.
She pulled out the comm unit and gave it a once-over. She turned it off and then on again, and tried once more.
This time, she got crackling and the buzz of interference. The damned dimensional storms again. Whatever had been escalating dimensional disturbance over the last year was getting worse, not better. There might come a time, if the storms didn't let up, that the High Council would pull back, restrict deployment even more. There were only so many ships available, and training new Genrenauts took time, even with smart candidates like Leah.
A few minutes later, on her seventeenth try, she got through.
"Hello?" came Preeti's voice through the crackling.
"Mid-Atlantic Actual, this is Mid-Atlantic 3. Do you copy?"
"I copy, Mid-Atlantic 3. What's your status?"
"We've deployed and found the breach. The Chosen One and his fellowship failed; golden boy bought it in the tower with the Night-Lord by all accounts. I need you to run a search through the Artifact database. We need something to destroy an unbreakable gem."
"The Hopestone?" Preeti asked.
"Just so. It's been corrupted."
"That's going to... Give me a few minutes. But stay on the line. I don't know if I'll be able to pick up the signal again if we lose it now."
Shirin stayed on the line, moving around her protective circle to try to maintain the signal. Nothing had pinged her magical sensors, but random encounters were just that.
Minutes later, Preeti had some answers. "Okay, I've got three good candidates. The Wand of Necessity can do whatever you need it to do, but our best records place it on the other side of the world. It'd be hard to get there and back in time. There's also the Shilelagh of Wall Removal, which can knock down any wall or barrier."
"That's close but might not work. What's your number three?"
"The Hammer of K'gon. Made to be able to destroy anything, including the War-Blooms of the Fungal Lords."
"Send me the file; I think we've got a winner. And thank you."
"How's it going?" Preeti's voice had a thread of worry, and something else Shirin couldn't quite place.
"Deploying late will make this harder, but we've got a full team and a fantasy-loving newbie looking to prove herself. We'll do fine."
When in doubt, allay fears and put on a good face. Worked for parenting, worked for the Genrenauts.
Hopefully.
She dropped the field of protection and returned to the cabin, greeted by Ioseph, who replaced the wards on the building. She spent the rest of the night transcribing the file and catching a few winks to ensure she could function reasonably well the next day. Fortunately, she didn't need as much sleep as she once had. Getting older didn't have too many benefits, but that was one of them.
The Genrenauts woke one by one, and as Declan and Roman made breakfast, she gave them the answer they needed to continue the story.
"Four millennia ago, there was a dwarf named K'gon, legendary as a warrior and king," Shirin said.
"The latter tends to require the former," Ioseph added.
"Just so. He built great cities, supported artisans and craftspeople. But most of all, his Hammer is rumored to be able to shatter any object in existence. He used the Hammer to crack the gates of the underworld so that his people could wage war on the demon realms directly. There's more, but the 'shatter any object in existence' is the relevant part for our purposes.”
Shirin realized she was rambling. She rubbed her temples and reached for another pot of tea.
"Sounds great! Where do we find it?" Leah asked.
"That's the problem. The Hammer was lost three hundred years ago when the Fungal Lords marched on the dwarven kingdoms. To get to the Hammer, we have to go deeper into the under-roads than even the dwarves will go."
"A perilous task, but the Hammer will be a match for the Deathstone," Ioseph said.
King took charge. "Leah, you head for the Hammer with Roman and Mallery. Shirin and I will collect the other companions. Time is of the essence. We'll meet back here and then find a way into Fallran castle."
Declan stepped forward. "That, I can provide. I moved between the castle and the countryside at Their Majesties' whim. The secret ways are known to me, and I wager that the Night-Lord has not bothered to find them all. Fallran the First was quite thorough."
"Then we have a plan. Ioseph, can you accompany Shirin and me? I'm sure your companions would be more trusting if they saw you among us."
Plus, it wouldn't hu
rt to have an arch-mage with them, Shirin thought.
The wizard leaned on his staff, looking as tired as Shirin felt. "I have another task, I'm afraid. I must gather the remnants of the royal army." Ioseph took a sapphire-set ring from his finger, then raised it to his lips and whispered. Pale gold light wrapped around the ring and snapped into place, leaving a glowing rune on the sapphire. He passed the ring to Roman. "Wear this, and the companions will know you come with my blessing and protection."
And with that, they were off. They returned to the tavern to reclaim their gear, and then Shirin and King pulled a tag team to haggle a local rancher down on five horses.
Mounted, the team paused at the crossroads that divided the path to the split-level dwarven kingdom of Karn-Du and the roads to the edges of the kingdom. Ioseph assumed that the remaining members of the fellowship would be watching and waiting. They had towns marked on their maps, ready to reassemble the heroes of Fallran.
———
King addressed Leah and the rest of the team, light reflecting off his polished armor. He looked every bit the champion.
No longer in the presence of witnesses, King dispensed with Fantasy World language. "We have just over six weeks to do all of this. No side quests unless absolutely necessary. Got it? Use the communicators to stay in touch. I can use messenger spirits if the comms fail, but only as needed."
"This is too cool," Leah said. "Also, about side quests. They're so much fun. Is it okay if we pick up some quirky companions along the way?" Leah asked, trying to let the joke into her voice even as she wanted it to be a real request.
"I'm not going to bother answering those questions. Be safe, and ride fast." King turned and ordered his horse to take off. Shirin followed, leaving Leah, Roman, and Mallery to start off on the path leading into the mountains.
"You're fighting well, but don't forget your role," Mallery said. "If you're the bard, the story expects you to be toward the back of the line of battle, singing songs of prowess or protection."
"I can fight just fine from the front."
This is a job, she reminded herself. We all play our role.
"But speaking of songs." She reached for her lute. "I feel like this is the perfect time for some traveling music."
Leah started in on the Peter Jackson film version of "The Road Goes Ever On." She used the song to steady her nerves at not actually being anything resembling confident on a horse. Luckily, King had given her the horse equivalent of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Totally laid-back and incredibly amenable.
Mallery joined in the song, threading in and out with harmonies. Roman didn't sing, but he did smile.
And so they rode toward the horizon, where purple-tinged clouds met hazy white-tipped peaks. Her heart soared with confidence and excitement. Maybe it was the view, and maybe it was her bard magic already kicking in.
Either way, I'm on an epic fantasy quest. How freaking amazing is this? she thought, marveling.
She sang her heart out, moving from song to song like a Renaissance jukebox stuck on Optimism Shuffle.
Chapter Six
Heroic Travel Montage, Part One
There's a reason that fantasy novels take the travel sequences in montage or tiny snippets.
Most of cross-country travel is equally boring and exhausting.
Leah, Mallery, and Roman rode for a few hours, took a break to eat some cheese and bread, then rode for another four hours, until they stopped to make camp before the sun set.
Leah's thighs and butt were already sore by the first stop, and practically numb when they stopped to make camp.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. I was not prepared. No amount of pony rides at county fairs could have prepared me for this. Also, this really should have been a part of my training."
Roman said. "Sorry, it was farther down the priority list. We don't keep horses in HQ anymore. Have to visit a ranch down the road."
"Think of it this way," Mallery said. "Chances are, by the time we're done, you won't need that training, and you'll have saved so much time! Plus, this way, you get to talk and see the sights while you learn."
Roman brought them back on-mission. "Ioseph said the skeletons are the most dangerous at twilight, when the sun's light turns dark, closer to the Deathstone's natural shade."
Leah stopped her already-futile attempts to assemble her super-not-modern tent. "But that's just because of the refraction of the light; how does that have anything to do with magic?"
Roman looked at the sun and shrugged. "Hell if I know. It's magic. Never got rated on the stuff. Genre expectations say that the big burly warrior doesn't tend to get to be the mage, so I never really bothered."
The veteran hero stretched, cracking joints as he shook out the day's ride. "Plus, we've already faced them at dusk. If they're easier to take out any other time, then that makes our job much easier."
"So, how far to the dwarven lands?" Leah asked.
Mallery jumped in. "Most of a week. We have the money to pay for one fresh set of horses, assuming we get good value for these at Dougal at the halfway point. And I can help make sure of that. My blessings can detect lies. And I like a good haggling."
"A week to dwarf-land, then what?"
Roman walked over to fix Leah's knot. But then he left her to finish the job on her own. "We get at most two weeks to find the Hammer, then three weeks to get back, assemble the army, and take down the Night-Lord."
"Is six weeks really long enough for an entire epic fantasy trilogy?" Leah asked.
Mallery waved her hand in the semi-universal sign of maybe. "With the setup we have, I wonder if it's more like we're coming in at the start of book two. And we've done this before. Time-wise, most of what we do here ends up being riding across the countryside, balancing between haste and not killing the horses." Mallery's horse neighed, as if to punctuate her point. "Until things start ramping up, our most common enemy will be boredom. And with you along, we have nothing to fear from that."
Leah winked at Mallery. "One jester, no waiting." The benefit of being teamed up with Roman is that the action hero DGAF when it came to Mallery and her flirting. Roman was like Mallery's big brother. Or big little brother. Either way, he was chill.
Once they were set up for the night, just out of sight of the road, Roman produced a pot. "Find some water. It's time for stew."
"Stew!" Leah was happy to not have to contain her voice. "I love it. It makes no sense to make stew on the road, but here we are."
She stopped and looked around, turning a three-sixty. "Any idea of where the river is?"
Mallery waved deeper into the forest. "Should be about ten minutes this way. I'll go with you."
Leah walked out the soreness, if slowly. Mallery wasn't too much faster, clanking along with her armor.
"How heavy is that stuff?" she asked.
"Not very. It's elven-made, so it weighs as much as aluminum." She removed a glove and held out her sleeve. Leah slipped a hand into the sleeve and checked the heft of the mail. It was super-light.
"Very nice. So, how much time would it reasonably take to bring firewood?" Leah asked, picking up small branches here and there, then stopping at one larger log section.
"Half an hour. We'll need enough to help Roman start the fire, then more to keep it going throughout the night."
"So, is this where we sneak some actual alone time, or does that come later?"
Mallery's grin was wry. "A little of column A, a lot of column B. Let's work first, then play."
"Speaking of play, you said they made you train bard too, right?"
"Seemed a natural pairing. Not as natural as for you."
"Yeah, but I can't play instruments for crap. And I'm not sure stand-up fits in-genre here.”
"Not quite the same, but give it a shot. Bards and Jesters are known for their biting wit here; give it a try and see how the magic of this world enhances it. But you will want to get passable with the lute." Mallery gestured downhill. "Let's head this way."
Leah hurried a
s best as she could, following the “Clean your plate and you get dessert faster” approach.
———
Thanks to the power of story logic, the stew cooked in an hour, somehow. Mallery and Leah went out for more firewood-collecting and more woodlands-necking, returning with two more armfuls of solid logs for an overnight fire.
"You take first watch. Nothing ever happens during first watch. It's always second or last watch." Roman rewrapped his cloak as a pillow. "If anything does come up, just kick the tents. I've got some books in my bag, if you like. Or maybe practice some songs from before the nineteenth century."
Leah waved the lute around like it was made of ick. "I'm not really much of a balladeer."
"You are now." Roman threw a smile, then slipped into his tent and closed the flap. "Good night."
Mallery had decided to take last watch, so she stayed up for only a few minutes before kissing Leah good night.
After their diversion in the woods and a goodnight kiss like that, Leah was a lot less grumpy about being sore from riding all day for the next few weeks.
Left to her own devices, Leah built herself a stack of books, ballads and histories, travelogues and more. A few were the same books she'd read as genre orientation (A Complete History of Fallran, an in-world text, and the Earth-Prime-based The Tough Genrenauts' Guide to Fantasyland, with apologies to Diana Wynne Jones).
Leah had never been much for reading music, but she had a decent ear. Thankfully, the book of ballads was Earth Prime–based, so each ballad had a header giving the tune. No fewer than fifteen of the ballads were set to the tune she knew as "Greensleeves," another five to "Whiskey in the Jar," and so on. Leah was thankful for the Irish-American community back home and her friends growing up that had been obsessive fans of the Chieftains.
Several times, while practicing a song, her lute started to glow, wisps of light rolling off the strings. While playing a battle song, her fingers grew stronger, able to hold down the strings with ease and far less pain. During a song about an old swordsman and his skill, her fingers moved through the chords almost without her having to think about it, her hands moving with greater speed and confidence.
The Failed Fellowship Page 5
