The Kings of Edonis: Omegaverse 4

by G. R. Cooper

  Nearing the middle of the night, there was no traffic that he could see in either direction. The huts that butted against the city wall seemed to be small shops - their wares still out in full view, not locked up for the evening.

  Crime was obviously not a problem in the city.

  Wulfgar felt guilty, bad for the days wages that he’d stolen from each of the two card players. Whatever the treatment he’d received, he didn’t feel like they deserved that much punishment. He thought, briefly, about climbing back up to return the coins, but he didn’t think he had the time - however badly he felt, it wasn’t enough for him to risk discovery.

  As he made his way up the street, the shrill sounds of an argument erupted from toward the gate. Wulfgar frowned - the guards had probably discovered the missing coins and were throwing accusations at one another.

  Wulfgar took the first turning, inward, away from the wall, and that street led him into what rapidly became a maze of twists and turns. He had just decided that he’d become lost when he felt a nuzzle on his right thigh and looked down.

  “Bear!” he exclaimed, truly joyful. “Sorry, buddy, I’d forgotten all about you. Take advantage of the fight at the gate to slip through?”

  The dog looked up, then licked Wulfgar’s hand, as the two of them turned and began climbing a slightly rising street into the heart of the city.

  After several twists and turns, moving, Wulfgar hoped, in a more or less northward direction, they stopped at the fourth or fifth inn that they’d passed. They’d hurried by the first - assuming that the inn closest to the southwest gate was likely where the two guards, once off duty, would retire for dinner and drinks - and then several more just to make sure that they were far enough away from anyone that would recognize them.

  He pushed through the doorway and a wave of smoke and heat blew out into the night air. Pulling the doorway closed behind them, Wulfgar paused to let his eyes adjust to the new light.

  A balding, middle aged man approached them. He wore an apron over a stained muslin shirt and was wiping out a mug with a dirty rag.

  “You’re welcome,” the man spat, “but you’ll have to vouch for the mangy cur.”

  “The dog is well behaved, he’ll be no trouble,” pleaded Wulfgar.

  “I was talkin’ to the dog, Highlander,” growled the man. “Now before we do anything else, show me your coin. You’ll not be getting any credit here, I can promise you that!”

  Wulfgar pulled out the four silver coins and held them out.

  “That’ll get you fed, drunk and a place in the stable to sleep. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” said Wulfgar, handing the man the coins as he moved into the crowded space. Faces that had been turned to watch the exchange shifted back to the plates and mugs in front of them, and the low rumble of conversation rose into the silence, accentuated by the popping and hissing from a large log fire that anchored one end of the long table that thrust into the room. Wulfgar moved onto the bench, into an opening between several humans and what, he was surprised to find, was a small cluster of Canis Arcturus - Werewolves.

  As Wulfgar settled onto the bench, the proprietor returned with the mug, now full and spilling over the sides. He slammed it onto the table in front of him.

  “Eatin’ is done on yer own,” he muttered, waving at the table full of trenchers, large bowls of stew and plates of what looked like smoked ribs. The man reached through to one of the piles of ribs and grabbed several. He then dropped them onto the floor in front of Bear, curled up behind Wulfgar.

  Wulfgar took a large drink of the beer, and found it delicious. A brown ale, he guessed. Putting the mug back onto the table, he reached for one of the trenchers in front of him and began filling it with the heavy, brown stew.

  “The ribs are claimed,” hissed the Werewolf across the table from him, as it broke a bone between its rows of razor sharp teeth.

  “Never fancied them, myself,” said Wulfgar happily, as he tore off a piece of the stew soaked bread and pushed it into his mouth, “eat all you want.”

  “We was just telling you that. That we’ll eat all we want,” grunted the Werewolf to Wulfgar’s left.

  “And I,” said Wulfgar levelly, turning to look the Werewolf in the eye, “am agreeing to your proposition.”

  The Canis Arcturus grunted, then broke several more bones, chewed, and swallowed.

  “You know,” it said returning Wulfgar’s stare, “that humans are very, very lucky.”

  “How so?”

  “They taste like pig.”

  “How is that lucky,” smiled Wulfgar toothlessly.

  “Because if there were no pigs, we’d be eating you.”

  Wulfgar laughed, turning back to his meal.

  “That’s awfully true. We are lucky.”

  “And tasty,” said the Werewolf, turning back to the pile of ribs in front of him.

  “I wonder,” said a large man with a full head of long yellow hair and matching beard that drooped nearly to the table, who was sitting opposite Wulfgar next to the first Werewolf, “just, exactly, how Werewolf’s taste?” He continued chewing as he reached between them and took a rasher of ribs, then greedily began to eat the meat off of the bone while shifting his gaze between the two.

  “I’m sure,” said the first, “that any of us old and sick enough for you to kill would be very stringy.”

  The second made a sound that Wulfgar assumed was laughter.

  So did the man. He looked back to Wulfgar.

  “I’m Snorri,” he said through a mouthful of rib meat, “and these two are Gar and Nop.”

  “Wulfgar.”

  “Have some ribs, Wulfgar,” said either Gar or Nop. They looked identical, at least to Wulfgar.

  “No thanks,” responded Wulfgar through another mouthful of beer, “I really don’t much care for them. Too greasy for my taste.”

  “More for us,” said Snorri happily.

  “Are you new here?” asked Gar - who Wulfgar had decided was the Werewolf on his side of the communal table.

  “I am,” laughed Wulfgar, deciding the play the role. “I’m just down from the mountains. My little village seemed a bit small. I want to see what’s out there that’s big. This city seemed a good start.”

  Snorri shrugged, “It’s a start, but there’s bigger, and there’s more interestin’,” he said, wagging a bone at Wulfgar in emphasis of his point.

  “How so?”

  “Well, first of all, this place is too quiet, by half. The king, bless him, has this city tightened up right like. Nobody can get away with nothin’ within these walls.”

  “Or until you’re a good ways away from the walls,” grunted Nop.

  “Or a good ways away,” agreed Snorri.

  “King Clive?” asked Wulfgar.

  “Who else?” snorted Snorri. “Just how far away is your village, anyway?”

  “Light years,” muttered Wulfgar.

  “Huh?”

  “Pretty far,” said Wulfgar, more loudly. “And not exactly on a main trade route. I’m not really up on the current affairs of the kingdom.”

  “That’s obvious from lookin’ at ya. Not that we mind, of course,” said Snorri, “we’re more open minded than most about who we associate with. Adventurers can’t always be too picky about who they spend their time with.”

  “Would you be interested in having me along?”

  Snorri looked him over.

  “No, sorry. Not until you have a bit more experience. At this point, you’d just be in the way. No offense meant,” said the man, standing. The two Werewolves joined him.

  “We’re away, Wulfgar, and we’ll be long gone by the time the sun comes up. Good luck t’ye,” he nodded as they moved toward the exit.

  “And you,” waved Wulfgar, before turning back to his dinner.

  He spent the rest of the hour filling his stomach, sneaking a few more bones to Bear, before finishing himself. Tired, he left the main room and made his way out the back, to the st
able. He and Bear found an empty stall with fairly fresh hay spread around it and they curled up together and slept.

  Chapter 2

  Wulfgar sputtered, shocked awake, and he rolled away from the warm fur of Bear’s side, trying to get away from the hot stream that sprayed his head. It took him a moment to remember where he was, as he bounced off the wooden slats of the stable stall wall. He wiped the foul smelling liquid away from his forehead and looked up to see a horse standing over what had been his bed. Bear sniffed at the stream of urine that now poured into the dirt floor.

  “The stall was your’n until dawn,” the innkeeper spat, leaning into the stall, “now it’s his,” he said, nodding toward the horse. “You’d otherwise be welcome to a sausage and a beer in the house, but I’ll be wanting you to stay outside since you smell like horse piss. Meet me at the back door and I’ll give you your breakfast.”

  “Thanks,” muttered Wulfgar, moving past the horse toward the outside of the stall.

  “Don’t be thankin’ me,” said the man, leaving the barn, “you paid for’t.”

  Wulfgar stepped out of the stall and into the middle of the stable, looking around. He found what he sought - a trough of water - and moved to it, plunging his head into it. The cold water shocked him fully awake and he stood, shaking his head free of the water. He stretched, enjoying the fact that his new body seemed none the worse for sleeping on the floor of a dirt stall - he knew his old, real, body would have complained noisily through a series of creaks and groans. He ran his hand through his hair, noticing that it seemed to dry out more rapidly than it would have outside of the Omegaverse.

  There was, he thought, a lot to be said for having an eternally youthful, healthy and strong body. Even the hunger he felt was only a small annoyance, he felt like he could go for days - or even longer - without eating or drinking to no real detriment beyond slight discomfort. That wasn’t, however, going to stop him from enjoying the promised breakfast, so, leading Bear, he left the barn and moved back through the small, open courtyard to the rear of the inn.

  He looked up. The sky was clear, blue above the shadows that lay across the town - the city must remain in shade until the sun crested the peak of the mountain chain. It would probably be near to mid-day when the star’s rays finally shone down onto the streets. He couldn’t see any indication of the peaks to the west, the courtyard and streets were too narrow; their views would be eclipsed by the buildings that crowded each other. It felt, he thought, fairly claustrophobic.

  Wulfgar knocked on the door and it was answered shortly by the inn keeper, sausages and a mug of beer in hand. He tossed one link to Bear, then handed the other and the frothy brew to Wulfgar, who nodded his appreciation and began devouring the wurst.

  “If it’s no trouble,” he grunted between chews, “could you direct me to the nearest herbalist, and then I’ll take my leave of you.”

  “Aye,” he nodded toward the break between the inn and the next building, the alleyway that led directly from the street to the stable, “to the street, turn to your right. Four blocks up. It’ll be on yer right. Sign be showin’ a green cross.”

  “And leave the mug,” he grumbled as he turned, shutting the door.

  Wulfgar tossed the rest of his sausage to Bear, then drained the mug in a single, gurgling draw. Belching, he watched his dog enjoy its breakfast, then turned and walked into the alley and out into the street. Following the inn keeper’s directions, he made his way through the bustling morning crowds to find the shop with the green cross.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Wulfgar said as he entered the herbalist’s, closing the door behind him. The shop was large, with several rows of shelving, each displaying jars of wildly varied plants. Along the left wall were several rows of baskets, holding what looked like various tubers and rhizomes. His small bag containing a few dozen stems of Shepherd’s Piss felt small and pathetic.

  A withered, wizened crone moved from behind a small counter on the far wall, and stared down her nose at him.

  “Yes?”

  She brightened as she approached.

  “Welcome, cousin, welcome,” she smiled as she reached him. “It’s long enough since I’ve seen one of us down from the hills. What can I do for you this morning?”

  Wulfgar smiled, pleased to finally find someone who treated him with basic human dignity.

  “I have some herbs for sale,” he brought forth the bag, opening it in front of her. “Shepherd’s Piss.”

  “And they’re lovely,” she sighed warmly, “but I’ve not much use for them.” She pointed to a large jar of the blue flowers to her right. “I can only give you a silver for them I’m afraid. They grow in plenty, at least as far as the demand for them is concerned, around these parts. In the mountain vales.”

  Wulfgar frowned, “I guess it’ll have to do. At least that’ll get me a couple of hours in an inn, right?”

  “Nonsense! A silver should get you a several nights in a comfortable bed, with dinner and breakfast beside.”

  She looked into Wulfgar’s eyes.

  “You’ve been taken, haven’t you lad.”

  Wulfgar nodded.

  “Four silvers. For a stable stall.” Wulfgar shrugged, “At least they fed us.” He reached down and scratched Bear’s ears.

  “Bastards,” she muttered, moving back toward the counter, “they see one of us coming, fresh from the hills, and their stupid arrogance and hatred make them want to take advantage.” She reached into a small box and pulled out two silvers, holding them out to Wulfgar.

  “I couldn’t,” he said, shaking his head, “you said they were only worth one.”

  “And I was being generous at that,” she smiled up at him, “but we have to look out for one another, us Highlanders.”

  “Really, I can’t.”

  She forced the coins into his hand and took the Shepherd’s Piss from him. All except for one flower, which, smiling, she pushed back into his pouch.

  “Maybe you could be helping me out with a little problem of mine as well? I’ve been having a rat problem, back in the storage room. They’re too big for me to take care of, and it would be worth that extra silver if you could get rid of them.”

  “Aye, I will,” Wulfgar smiled.

  “You have accepted the quest Exterminator I from Heather the Herbalist”

  Wulfgar’s smile grew. Finally, he was going to get some direction, some small purpose that would help him find his way in this realm. He nodded toward the counter top.

  “Can I borrow that knife?”

  “Aye,” she said, handing it to him.

  He took it, looked it over, turning it in his hand. It was nothing that he would consider a combat knife, but since he was only going after a couple of rats - and since he was otherwise weaponless - it would have to do. It was fairly long, with a single, curved blade. It looked, he admitted, much like a small chef’s carving knife; perfectly suited for chopping herbs and, he hoped, rodents.

  “Holy shit,” Wulfgar muttered under his breath, “those thing aren’t rats. They’re little ponies.” He crouched and moved as silently as he could through the doorway into the large storeroom at the back of the store. Barrels and large sacks lined the walls of the dark room, and shelves containing glass jars circled it. A single small lantern, hanging near the doorway, threw long shadows into the space. There were three large rats, busily chewing on something or other at the far end of the room. Suddenly, the previously sufficiently large butcher knife felt like a toothpick in his hand. The rodents were each about knee-high, maybe a meter long.

  “Rodents of freakin’ unusual size,” Wulfgar thought as he activated Stealth.

  He began moving toward the trio of rodents, balancing the need to carefully place his feet quietly while running a mental, ten-second countdown until Stealth ran out. He rapidly reached the closest of the trio, and selected an area in the middle of the rats back, just off the spine, to target. As the knife plunged toward the mass of dirty, greasy gray fur, he wondered if t
here was anything he had to do do activate Hidden Stab.

  “6 points of damage!”

  “12 points of damage, Hidden Stab!”

  The rat dropped, instantly dead, as its legs gave out. Stunned, Wulfgar straightened, pulling the knife free of the rat’s body, splashing a thin trail of blood onto the wall in front of the corpse. He turned as quickly as he could, looking toward the next closest rat, when he was knocked out of the way by a blur of growling black, brown and white fur.

  Bear rocketed past and dropped onto the first rat which collapsed under the overpowering weight of the dog, its spine snapping with a loud, sickening crunch. The third rat hissed in surprise as it turned to face its attacker, but Bear was too fast. His fangs tore through the rat’s neck as he pulled it off the ground and began to shake it. Blood splayed across the wall as the dog shook its prey three times then dropped it, dead, at Wulfgar’s feet.

  “Holy shit,” said Wulfgar again, shocked by the speed and ferocity of his trusty companion, “holy shit.”

  Bear just looked up at him with what looked like a self satisfied grin.

  “Good boy,” Wulfgar scratched him behind his ears, “good boy. I named you well, didn’t I?”

  Bear just snorted and moved toward the other end of the room. Reaching the doorway, he circled twice and dropped onto the floor with a sigh. Wulfgar looked at him with new eyes. He’d previously thought of Bear as just a companion. Someone to talk to. A comfortable pillow. His respect for the animal grew, and then he realized that, at only about six months old, the dog probably had growing left in him. He could conceivably grow to Wulfgar’s waist - the dog was nearly hip high already - and weigh more than a hundred kilograms. He’d have to research what role animal companions played in this world, but, so far, Wulfgar was more than pleased.

  “Next time I’ll just send you after all three,” smiled Wulfgar.

  Wulfgar reported the results to Heather, who brightened considerably, beaming up at him. The tiny woman took his hand in one of hers.