by ilo man
Vinnie was beginning to wonder if he was a little dim. Thirteen baying wenches had hardly seemed manageable. Then he remembered he had, cocked his head in surprise, and marched off down the little street.
Behind, it ran up to the imposing, rocky bluff and in front, wound down towards the river. Bottle thick windows glowed amber, tallow candles flickering behind. Carts ambled up to Fin’s castle, laden with supplies.
Carts sped down, empty.
Panhandlers sang for business some way off.
“You hungry, or you fancy a walk along the river?”
“I could walk, though, perhaps the other way?”
Fin laughed. “That inn is already owned by someone else. Prime location, so I had it rented in a moment. Free for me too—I confiscated it from Sivatious, so, thanks for the profit.”
“Won’t Sivatious have something to say about that?”
“Ha!, He wants you, not me. No, a thousand gold here or there doesn’t mean a lot to him.”
They came to the bankside walk, and turned, walking along it, away from the bridge. “So, he’s got an army? What’s to stop him just marching south?”
“He’s got a huge army, but, not enough discipline at the minute. He’s got the hobgoblins on his side, and they can crack a whip. A load of players and human NPCs too, but they don’t command respect. The trouble players like Sivatious have are quality, not quantity. The majority of orcs turn on their masters as soon as the battle looks lost. Goblins vanish into the ground, and all of a sudden your dark hordes are no more. He needs a bane to bind them. His goblins search the caverns under the Twin Mountains day and night. They seek the Hell’s Bane. If they find that, then he’ll march.”
Vinnie shivered. “Makes my problems seem small.”
Fin pulled him in. “Your problems are huge, and they’re important to us, to all of us. In a week, you’ve confused him, drawn his attention away from his coveted aims. He focuses on you, forgets his other duties. He doesn’t know that you’re—”
“Useless,” Vinnie said, eyes downcast.
Pain, cold pain ripped through him. He fell to his knees. Fin growled. The pain came again, searing pain like a knife sliding in. Slumping forward, he rolled. An assassin stood over him; all dressed in black. A blast of gold magic enveloped the rogue. He vanished, reappeared, vanished and then reappeared. Fin spouted a stream of ancient words. Her golden magic encased the bastard, holding him in place. He appeared to accept his fate, raised his knife and cut his own throat. He fell, shimmered and vanished.
Fin bent down, ripping at Vinnie’s shirt. Suddenly green magic erupted from her outstretched palm, soothing green magic. Fin fell on him, he felt himself porting, and with a pop, he was inside a strange room, on a table, Fin cutting at his shirt with a knife.
“Do something!” she shouted.
“I think it’s a little late for that, but he will respawn. Strange. He should be dead by now.”
“You don’t understand,” Fin growled. “He can’t die—he’s not allowed to die. He’s—”
“Oh,” said the second voice. “Well, in that case—”
Vinnie felt his head getting pulled back, his mouth forced open, and a foul liquid poured down his throat. Searing pain burst through him as something red hot pressed against his stab wounds, he tried to scream, but couldn’t open his mouth.
“There,” said the second voice. “I’ve done what I can. He must sleep now.”
“What do you mean, ‘What you can?’”
Vinnie’s head was pulled up by the hair again, an orange-faced creature looking down at him. It had a perfectly round red nose, eyes the shape of boiled eggs and the hairiest, blackest of brows above. “He’s been poisoned. I wouldn’t be surprised if it weren’t the same type used on the princess. Some delayed action poison.” The creature stepped back. “Something else is at work here though. Something powerful. He should, by rights, be dead, yet he recovers before our very eyes.”
“So, just what are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“That’s why Sivatious wants him dead,” Fin muttered.
“Indeed.”
“Let me try something.”
Fin lifted his head. Vinnie saw her looking into his eyes, but not a single expression would react to his commands. He looked limply out. Fin had a vial in her hand. She waved it under his nose.
“There, that should scrub his memory. Are you sure he’ll heal?”
“Fin, look at his back. There’s not a mark on him.”
“Thank you, Spordamant.”
“Any time, now, can I get back to my afternoon snooze?”
Fin wrapped her arms around Vinnie. He felt her port, and suddenly he was back in his room in the castle. “You still want that steak?” she asked.
“What the hell happened?”
Fin sat on the side of his bed. “A rogue, an assassin—poisoned blade. He took his own life but thinks he killed you. I’ve got a little theory, Vinnie. I don’t think you can die—or put it like this. I think if you die—you die, die.”
“In?”
Fin nodded. “Most of us respawn, but some, and they’re rare, well, they die. I’ll bet your...your…ability to—”
“Go on, I’m following.” He wanted to let her know he understood she was talking about the game. “I’m following,” he reiterated.
“I’ll bet if you wanted to leave this room, there’d be no door.”
No door, no log out button. He checked. It was grayed out again. “No door,” he said.
Fin grabbed his leg. “Sivatious wants you dead.”
“I heard. Listen, what’s going on? I know you took me somewhere, I know you thought I was out, but I wasn’t. I heard everything Fin, absolutely everything, and that thing you made me sniff to lose my memory, newsflash, it didn’t work. So, what’s up? What’s going on?”
“Life and death, Vinnie, life, and death. Sivatious must know you have The One Ring. He must know you gather your forces, that you’re growing fast. He also knows that the ring bearer can be killed. The prophecy states it quite clearly. Vinnie, you’re dead, and you’ve got to stay dead while you get strong. The ring’s magic saved you this time.”
“So, Sivatious thinks I’m dead, eh?”
“Yes.”
“And you think it best I stay dead?”
“Yep.”
Vinnie nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
“With you out of the way, he can carry on searching for the Hell’s Bane.”
“Why’s the ring so important?”
“Because it is ultimate pleasure, it gives and doesn’t expect anything in return. It is the light in a world of darkness.”
“Then I need to get strong, very strong.”
“We need to hide you away.”
“We need to go dark,” Vinnie said, grimly.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“To the north of Hundenwyrdich, a small farmstead sat at the end of a long, straight, narrow track. Surrounded by fields on all sides, it neither thrived nor did it scratch to survive. It had a delightful little cottage for a farmhouse, with a stone chimney, and a bright red front door. Baskets under its evenly spaced windows overflowed with summer flowers. Mistress Fin tended the flowers, preferring the place to be cheery.
An ogre called Marlo did most of the heavy lifting, the plowing, the sowing, and the harvesting. He toiled long and hard. Mistress Fin often went to market in Hundenwyrdich, though sometimes she let Mistress Angel, her half-sister, do those chores. A farm boy called Vin, an innocent lad with no connection to any current noble family, prophecy, or lost lineage, did chores around the farm, quite often for quests. Mistress Fin was real nice to him, teaching him all manner of things. Mistress Angel wanted to be real nice to him, but Mistress Fin wasn’t having any of that and threatened to pull her skull through her asshole if she dallied with little Vin.
One day, a vagabond on a little white donkey came up the trail, which was odd as the farm didn’t us
ually attract visitors. It turned out to be none other than the great storyteller Spordamant, or as young Vin liked to call him, Mr. Fox.
Mr. Fox would do anything for one of Mistress Fin’s tasty cakes, and snuck into the scullery time and again, stealing away her fruity pies, sneaking out barrels of homemade ale. He told tales in the barn where he slept, tales of great battles with one-eyed gods and—”
Vinnie stopped relaying his colorful plan, his colorful dream. Angel was looking at him like he was a complete moron, Marlo too. Fin had her arms crossed, a hint of resignation on her face. Vinnie glanced around the kitchen for someone who might think it was a good plan, but as there was only four of them, so it proved futile.
“How about a sleepy country village filled with Halflings?” he ventured.
They all burst out laughing. “Great ideas, Vin, but hardly practical,” Angel told him.
“Why’s it such a shit idea? We hide out while I get strong, then go battle Sivatious.”
Fin reached over and grabbed his arm. “Look, if we stayed anonymous, just the slightest thing could blow our cover. Someone could recognize me, you, Angel. Besides…”
“Besides what?”
“Well, you’re not exactly a kid. I mean, you know.” She nodded at his crotch.
“I could play a bloody farm boy if I wanted.”
“Look,” Fin stood up, walking around the kitchen table, standing against the clay sink. “We’ve got this wing of the castle on near lockdown. Angel will come and teach you every day. We’ll feed Little Red, get her to a size where we can activate the core at any time, and by then you’ll be strong. There’s no need to go all Amish, Vin, fuck that.”
But Vinnie’s mind was having none of her excuses.
“And so it was agreed that the mighty Vin be trained by his harem of servile wenches who would do anything he wanted, anytime he wanted and lived solely to pleasure him. He lived in an impenetrable castle with his manservant Marlo and wanted for nothing.
One day, as he strolled through his spent and naked lovers, he saw a new girl standing, waiting for him to attend her. A goblin, she was beautiful, and he knew he had to have her. She had wavy purple hair, deep violet eyes, but something tainted their loveliness, was it fear? Vin couldn’t stand for that and immediately took her in his arms, she gasped, reaching a rippling orgasm from Vin’s touch alone—”
“Vinnie? Are you listening?” Fin clicked her fingers in front of him.
Vinnie snapped out of it. “What?”
“We’ve decided. There are three spare rooms on your floor, so I’m going to move into one, Angel’s taking another and then it’s a toss-up between Marlo—”
“That’s me,” said Marlo, for no reason at all.
“And Fallon.”
“Why Fallon?” He asked, but he knew. It was a test, another, terrible test. If fate could have planned his game any better, it would have drawn back its heavily booted feet and kicked him right in the nuts every five minutes.
“She has certain talents,” Fin said, an evil smile gracing her face.
Vinnie’s jaw dropped.
“Not what you’re thinking, Vinnie,” said Angel, then the Australian-sounding beauty grinned. “Well, she’s real good at that too, but we’re more interested in her unique stealth abilities. She has some pieces that can make you meld into the background, become a nobody. That’s what we’re interested in.”
“Or,” said Vinnie. “Or I could just go invisible when I need to.”
At first, they all nodded, and Vinnie felt quite proud that they were taking one of his ideas on board. Then Fin started tapping on the sink. Angel repeated, “Invisible,” and Marlo admitted that it would be a neat trick.
“You what?” Fin growled, after a short period of reflection.
Vinnie coughed. “Haven’t I? Didn’t I?”
“You can go invisible?” Marlo’s jaw hung open. “Cool. Show us.”
“How?” Fin asked, more than a slight hint of annoyance in her tone.
“It’s the ring. I twist it.”
“And you didn’t think to use that when a coven of horny bitches was out to kill you?”
“Hands tied,” he explained.
“The assassin?”
“Didn’t see him.”
“So when did you use it?” Fin had narrowed the gap between them. She was menacingly close.
“Just after I shafted Lavender and before I upset the Nymph nation…as a collective.”
“You upset the Nymphs? Anyone else?”
Vinnie shook his head. “No, no not really.”
“Good, now show me.” Fin had her hands on his shoulder now. Things were getting tense. Both Marlo and Angel had distanced themselves.
Vinnie started fiddling in his pants.
“No,” said Fin, sternly. “I want to see exactly how it works.”
“I just twist it.”
“Show me!”
He dropped his pants, turned, twisted the ring and vanished.
They all gasped. Vinnie thought about sneaking out, but decided against it, given his pants around the knees issue. Resigned to a verbal battering, he twisted the ring back.
“Satisfied?” He hoisted his pants up.
“I knew it,” Fin said. “I knew there must be more to the ring than making him a sex god. Don’t you see, Vinnie?”
He so wanted to say yes. “Nope.”
“This is why the ring’s so important. The other thing’s just camouflage, I mean, we’ve all heard the story, but no one thought the King was that much of a perv. So, the question now stands, ‘Why does Sivatious covet a ring that can turn you invisible?’”
Marlo thumped the table. “Treasure!” he said. “You could sneak into Jormungandr’s lair and steal the fabled sword of Perignon the Third.”
“Or the Milk-eye pendant,” Angel whispered.
“Don’t need to sneak up on him,” Vinnie said before he had a chance to instruct his mouth to be quiet. He glanced at each of them as they turned to him once more. “So I’m told. Stairs, you take the stairs—in the back door, so to speak. Is it getting hot in here?”
Fin’s renewed glare lingered, she pushed him back into his seat. “So, Marlow gets the room at the head of the stairs, Fallon can stay with you, Angel. It seems Vinnie is quite adept at getting into trouble. Quite adept indeed.”
“Very good at it,” Vinnie agreed.
“That’s settled then. Angel, you get Fallon onboard. Marlo, you get humping gear. Vinnie, you’re with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To see Spordamant. It’s about time the wizard showed us his cards.”
She pulled him up, hugged him, and Vinnie felt a familiar feeling.
Pop! And they appeared in a stable. Fin walked up to a piebald. “You missed out stableboy,” she said, stroking the horse’s nose.
“What?”
“Stableboy. Isn’t the unsuspecting hero a stable boy sometimes? Can you ride, Vincent?”
“Never tried it. Will I need the skill?”
“No, you don’t need skill for that. It doesn’t work like that here. Jump on,” Fin told him, leading it out, cupping her hands. “I’ll give you a leg up.”
She boosted Vinnie up.
“Don’t I need a saddle?”
“You’ll soon know.” Fin led another horse out from its stalls and easily mounted it without any help. “See how it goes, but I think you’ll be fine.” She kicked her horse into a trot and left the stables. Vinnie followed, expecting a castle courtyard but getting a grassed escarpment that led on and seemingly to the horizon.
Fin waited, and he drew level with her.
“It helps,” she said, “that the horse knows where it’s going.”
“Where are we?”
“Look behind.”
Vinnie turned and saw the rising mass of Hundenwyrdich. “It's lower slope?”
Fin nodded. “And that’s Spordamant’s tower.”
He looked back, and saw it, though h
ow he’d missed it before, he’d never know. At the ends of the escarpment, where it’s green grass kissed the sky’s blue, a vast tower rose up like a—a vast tower—a huge column of tan colored brickwork.
“Can you see it?” Fin asked. “Spordamant doesn’t reveal the tower to everyone.”
“Yes,” Vinnie said, and Fin started galloping toward it, and Vinnie followed, now eager to get there, knowing he’d find answers, just hoping he’d ask the right questions.
They soon arrived. Closer, it was gargantuan, a proud edifice at the edge of a green oasis. “How come I couldn’t see it from the castle?” Vinnie asked Fin.
“Hundenwyrdich is a mysterious place, this glade, this tower; you can’t see it from there. Or Spordamant doesn’t want it to be, one of the two.”
“Who is he?”
“Spordamant? A recluse, a wizard, he’s either evil or good—I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“How can he help us? Is he super-powered or something?”
“He sees things, seems to be in tune with the land. Can he help us? Who knows? When has a really powerful wizard ever done anything for anyone but himself? They usually rely on—”
“Saps like me,” Vinnie said, downcast.
Fin laughed. “I was going to say that light will always prevail, but yes, they do tend to rely on saps like you.” She jumped off her horse and offered him a hand down. “Of course, the sap’s gotta turn into a hero, and you’re part of the way there already.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I suppose we should start your tuition soon, would you like that?”
“I—” He gazed into her hazel eyes, losing himself in their kaleidoscope pools. Yes, he thought, I would. You’re not quite the Wanton Witch your reputation paints you.
“Quick, come quick!” The words spat like bullets.
Spordamant stood in his doorway. He was about four feet tall, if you discounted his flame red scruffy hair, if you didn’t he was four and a half. That wild hair covered his entire face apart from his thick, black eyebrows, huge boggly eyes, black dots for pupils, and his draping mouth resplendent with bright white teeth. Rather than a wizard’s cloak, he wore a yellow t-shirt from which bright orange arms protruded. Under, brown leather jeans hung slightly baggy. “It’s all kicking off.” He vanished back into his tower.
