by Robert Bevan
The woman gasped.
“I mean a half-orc!”
SMACK! The big bitch had a hell of an arm on her.
“See here, now!” said the elf, sporting a wispy Fu Manchu style mustache. “That’s my wife you’re talking to!”
“I… I…” Katherine stammered at the family of four. Wait a minute… That wasn’t right. Elven father. Human mother. Half-elven kid. What was this dwarf doing here? She might not have been so quick in her assumption if this short, hairy meatball hadn’t been tagging along. She looked down at him. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Griswald,” said the dwarf. “I don’t actually know these people. I just didn’t want to travel alone.”
The group turned their backs on Katherine and resumed their journey.
Chaz and Tanner weaved their way through the crowd toward Katherine like salmon swimming upstream.
“What was that all about?” asked Tanner.
“Just a misunderstanding.”
Chaz hugged himself and shivered. “I think we should follow the crowd. Safety in numbers and all that.”
“I need to find Tim.”
Tanner pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “Is your brother the suicidally brave sort? Is it in his character to face certain death on principle alone?”
Katherine shook her head. “No.”
“Then would it not be reasonable to assume that he and his companions would have fled at the first hint of danger?”
“That’s exactly what I would have assumed,” said Katherine. She glanced at the people walking past her. “But if that’s the case, then where are they? Like Chaz said, the safest place is with the crowd. Unless…”
“Unless?” said Tanner.
“Chaz, do they still have that flying carpet?”
Chaz looked at the ground. “Yeah.”
“Well that’s it then. They probably just took to the sky and high-tailed it out of there.”
Tanner’s eyes were wide. “Your brother has a flying carpet?”
“Yeah. So?”
“That’s worth more money than I’ve ever seen.”
Katherine smiled.“When we find him, I’ll take you for a ride.” She, Chaz, and Tanner started walking with the current, headed back north to Cardinia.
“You know something?” said Chaz. “I’m starting to get sick of this fucking road.”
Chapter 33
Cooper’s arms felt like wet noodles which were, somehow, also on fire. He’d been rowing all day and all night. The rising sun revealed nothing but yet another of the goddamn Barrier Islands. It seemed wrong that the most relaxing parts of the journey involved walking along the beach with a boat on his head, but he was grateful to see that opportunity approaching.
This was the sixth or seventh island Cooper had washed up on. He couldn’t believe he’d originally planned to swim. With the next island so close, he redoubled his efforts, rowing as hard as he could until he felt the crunch of the boat’s hull against sand. He allowed himself a small break to drink from the Decanter of Endless Water, then stepped out of the boat and into the shallows.
Placing the boat over his head the way he’d come to find most comfortable, he began walking southward along the shoreline of the island, dragging an oar in each of his exhausted hands. He couldn’t see where he was going, but was able to navigate by making sure he never veered from where the water met the sand.
Cooper trudged along the beach, dreading the moment he would have to put the boat back in the water and start rowing again, when he heard a voice from up ahead.
“You there! In the name of the United Forces of Meb’ Garshur, I demand you surrender your vessel!”
Cooper lifted the boat off his head and let it fall on the sand next to him. “In the name of what?”
“The United Forces of Meb’ Garshur,” repeated the orc twenty yards up the beach. He was flanked by an orc on either side of him.
“Gesundheit.”
“Drop the oars and step away from the boat,” said the leader.
All three of the orcs wore an identical roughspun woolen tunic with some kind of symbol painted poorly on the front. It might have been a fist dripping blood, or it might have been a rhinoceros taking a dump. These guys were no Picassos. Their clothes were dripping wet, and though they made an effort to look threatening, Cooper could tell they were just as exhausted as he was. These poor fuckers had been swimming. The good news Cooper took from this was that he must be getting close to the southern mainland. The bad news was that a fight was inevitable.
“I have a counter proposal,” said Cooper. “How about you go fuck yourself?”
“So be it.”
“Seriously? I didn’t think –”
“Scab! Grunt! Draw your weapons!”
“Oh, right,” said Cooper. As Scab and Grunt drew their shortswords, Cooper decided to even the odds. “I’m really angry!”
His vision tainted pink, Cooper could already see the look of fear in the two henchmen’s eyes.
“If you cannot stand against a single half-orc,” said the leader, “how will you breach the walls of Cardinia?” His underlings still hesitant, he employed a different strategy. “It’s this or keep swimming.”
Scab and Grunt charged at Cooper, shortswords held high above their heads. Cooper swung an oar at the one he’d arbitrarily decided was Grunt, snapping it in half against the side of his head and dropping him to the sand.
With a battle cry that was something between a lion and a goat, Scab swung his sword down with both hands at Cooper, who barely had the presence of mind to try to block the blow with his remaining oar. The sword sliced through the oar and into Cooper’s shoulder, but he hardly felt it.
“FUCK YOU!” said Cooper, and punched Scab in the throat.
Scab dropped his sword and grasped at his neck with both hands. Cooper tackled him and punched him in the face until his head was little more than a pulpy red stain in the sand.
“For Meb’ Garshur!” shouted Grunt, who had recovered from his oar wound.
Cooper felt the burn of jagged steel dig into his back muscles. It pissed him off. He swung his arm around wildly and caught Grunt in the knee, dropping him to the sand again. As Grunt screamed, Cooper drove the broken oar handle into his mouth, effectively staking his head to the beach and shutting him the fuck up.
Cooper breathed hard as his vision returned to normal. He couldn’t go on any more. He’d have to take a nap.
“Tut tut,” said the remaining orc, reminding Cooper that there had, in fact, been three.
Fuck.Cooper stood up on wobbly legs and staggered backwards a few steps.
The orc leader was holding the business end of the oar which Cooper had cracked over Grunt’s head. Making a show of just how unconcerned he was about Cooper, he unceremoniously jerked the other end of the oar out of Grunt’s gaping maw. “Everyone knows that the best way to deal with a barbarian is to wait for him to wear himself out. But I was hoping to not have to do my own rowing.”Placing the pieces together, he whispered something that Cooper couldn’t make out, and the oar was suddenly whole again. He looked up at Cooper.“I’ll give you one final chance to continue your miserable existence. Row for me, and I’ll let you live.”
“Sorry,” said Cooper between labored breaths. “I was continuing my miserable existence in the opposite direction.” He dropped his remaining oar handle and reached for the greataxe strapped to his back.
The orcish fighter/wizard/asshole was similarly equipped. The greataxe he produced appeared to be in a much better state of repair than the chipped and rusted blades of Scab and Grunt’s shortswords. It even made Cooper’s axe look like a piece of shit in comparison. The double blades were shiny silver and designed to look like angel’s wings. A silver skull adorned the top, with a spike jutting through it. The edges of the angel wing blades were engraved with words that Cooper couldn’t read.
Cooper had never seen such an impressive-looking weapon. “Sweet axe.”
&nbs
p; “This is Soulreaper,” said the orc. “I would hate to sully her blades with the filthy blood of such an unworthy opponent, so I will repeat my offer one last time.”
Cooper’s guts churned. Coming out of a Barbarian Rage always did a number on his insides. Relief came in the form of a loud, extended fart, which he and the orc leader awkwardly endured.
“It would appear that my ass has made plain my thoughts about your offer.”
The orc leader huffed and held up his weapon. “Very well. Send my regrets to Scab and Grunt when you see them in – YAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”
His face was obscured by a flapping mess of black feathers.
Cooper was almost as surprised as the orc leader, but jumped on the opportunity he was presented with. With all of the power he could muster in both arms, he brought his greataxe down hard between the orc’s shoulder and neck, cutting down to what must have been near the lung on his opposite side.
The avian assailant, whose identity Cooper would confirm when he got the chance, disengaged from the orc’s face, but not without a souvenir. A gloppy string of blood and nerve followed the bird from where the orc’s eye used to be.
Somehow, that motherfucker was still standing. Still screaming in agony, he took a wild swipe at the bird, but it appeared his depth perception was off.
Cooper buried his axe in the big bastard’s head, finally bringing him down. He left the axe in the orc’s head and picked up Soulreaper. It felt incredible in his hands. Perfectly balanced, with a grip that felt like it had been designed specifically for his big, clumsy hands. Not a bad day’s work.
“Scrawww!” said the bird, hopping excitedly on the beach.
“Are you Ravenus?”
“Scrawww!” the bird repeated.
This wasn’t going to do. Cooper was all but certain he’d found Ravenus. The bird was big like Ravenus. It sounded like Ravenus. It had the predilection for eating the eyeballs of its enemies like Ravenus. And it seemed unlikely that some other random bird would swoop out of the sky to help him in a fight. Still, he wanted to be sure. With no way to communicate, he’d have to think outside the box.
Cooper sat down on the beach, opened his bag, and took out all of the scroll tubes containing his and his friends’ character sheets. “Come here.”
The bird squawked at him some more, clearly not understanding him. Cooper repeated his command with a gesture.
After some more squawking and flapping, the bird finally hopped forward. Cooper grabbed it, shoved it into his bag, and held the opening shut.
While his bag pulsed like an erratically beating heart, Cooper opened the scroll tubes until he found his own character sheet. Down at the bottom was a short list of his possessions. At the bottom of the list, he read the word Ravenus.
“Sweet.” Cooper opened his bag, and Ravenus wobbled out, gagging and choking.
When he finally caught his breath, Ravenus continued squawking, hopping, and flapping.
“I’m sorry,” said Cooper. “I had to know.”
Ravenus just squawked louder.
“Dude. I don’t fucking understand you.”
Squawk squawk squawk. Flap flap flap.
Cooper was about to shove him back in the bag when he noticed that only one of Ravenus’s wings was flapping. “Are you hurt? Is there something wrong with your wing?”
Ravenus turned his head in the direction of his flapping wing. “SQUAAAWWWK!”
Cooper followed Ravenus’s gaze. “I don’t know what you want from me. I told you, I can’t fucking under— Hooooooly shit.”
About half a mile up the beach, an army of orcs was marching toward him. There were hundreds of them. On the water, luckier orcs traveled in boats ranging from humble rowboats like his own to larger sailing vessels.
Cooper stood up to get a better view. A few of the groups at the head of the march stopped in their tracks, pointing at him.
“Oops.”
It was time to get out of there. Cooper grabbed the mended oar and lifted the boat over his head. Across half a mile of sea and sand, he heard one word shouted simultaneously by at least a dozen voices.
“BOAT!”
“Oops.”
Cooper lifted the boat and looked back. Sure enough, the whole goddamn orcish army was running at him.
Fuck.
Mustering what little strength he had left, he ran into the water until he was deep enough so that his weight wouldn’t drag the boat on the sea floor. By the time he hopped inside, orcs were already jumping into the water after him.
With his one oar, Cooper rowed like a motherfucker. He had no direction in mind but away from all these fucking orcs.
Ravenus hopped up and down on Cooper’s bag, squawking and flapping again.
“Yeah, no shit,” said Cooper. “I fucking see them.”
The bird was insistent, and it was driving Cooper nuts. He was trying to communicate something again, but Cooper was damned if he could figure out what it was.
Ravenus stopped flapping and squawking, and ducked into Cooper’s bag. A moment later, Cooper could hear a faint clinking sound as a bulge in his bag bobbed repeatedly up and down. Ravenus was tapping the Decanter of Endless Water with his beak.
“What? Are you fucking thirsty?” asked Cooper. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here. Do you think you could give me a minute?”
Clink clink clink. Clink clink clink.
Cooper looked back. The orcs were swimming faster than he was rowing, and his arms were just about to give in to exhaustion.
Clink clink clink. Clink clink clink.
“You know what? Fine.” Cooper set his oar down in the boat. If they wanted his boat that bad, they could fight him for it. Even with the advantages of higher elevation, not having to fight while swimming, and his badass new axe, he knew it would only be a matter of time before they overwhelmed him. But maybe he could take down enough of them to make the others reconsider.
He reached into his bag and pulled out the Decanter of Endless Water. Holding it over the side of the boat, he started pouring water into the sea. “Here. Drink up.”
Ravenus stepped out of the bag, looked at the decanter, then up at Cooper.
“Squaaawwwk!”
“Dude, hurry it up. We’re about to start fighting soon.”
Ravenus flapped and squawked more furiously than ever.
“WHAT. THE. FUCK. DO. YOU. WANT. FROM. ME. ASSHOLE?”
Finally, Ravenus gave up his tantrum. He flew up to Cooper’s head and raked a talon across his forehead, drawing blood.
“Motherfucker!” shouted Cooper. But Ravenus had already flown away.
Cooper turned around and found the bird flying in a tight circle behind the boat. “You want some water, shithead? I’ve got your water right here.” He aimed the decanter at Ravenus and shouted the command word, “Geyser!”
Instead of blasting Ravenus out of the sky, the jet of water propelled the boat forward like an outboard motor. He was cruising, hopping waves as the little rowboat rocketed further out to sea.
“Hell yeah!” Cooper shouted as the approaching orcs got farther and farther away.
Ravenus flew down and landed on Cooper’s shoulder.
“You know something, bird. You’re all right.”
Chapter 34
At the mayor’s behest, most of the citizens had evacuated PortTown. Those with property untethered their barges and headed westward to Portsville. Those without started walking north, seeking whatever security they could get behind Cardinia’s city walls. Only the Merriweather Inn remained. It was built on a barge just like the other buildings, but it was far too big to move out of the way in time.
Mayor Merriweather had tried to convince Julian and his friends to leave as well, but Julian refused. Tony the Elf watched over Stacy and Dave while they slept, and Julian sat with the mayor on the roof of the inn.
Potted plants, some vegetable and others decorative, lined the short wall on three of the four sides of the roof, but the south
ern wall, with its view of the sea, was kept clear. From the wear on the wicker chairs they sat on, Julian guessed that the mayor spent a lot of time up here.
“You really believe that skinny elf who set fire to my inn is responsible for waking Timmon Bloodsoul?” asked Mayor Merriweather.
“I’d bet my life on it,” said Julian. He sighed. “I guess I’m betting all our lives on it.”
“And what good will it do you to die here? I’m an old man. This inn is all I’ve got. You young folks have futures, or you could anyway. The world we know is about to be cast in a dark shadow. It’ll need good young people to fight for a brighter future.”
“This is the world you know,” said Julian. “If my friends and I ever want to see the world we know again, we have to take that elf alive.” He intentionally left out his primary motivation of finding Ravenus.
The mayor shook his head. “None of what you said makes a lick of sense to me, but I suppose having some company beats dying alone.”
Julian was trying to remain optimistic. Mayor Merriweather wasn’t helping. “I’m going to zone out for a couple of hours. Give me a jostle if anything happens.”
“Suit yourself.”
The moon had moved since Julian had first spotted the flying boat. The only indication he had of its current location was the occasional flash of fire from one of the dragons flying around it. He stared into the dark night sky and fell into a trance.
*
When he came to, dawn was just breaking and he had a much better view of the thing. It was a boat. One of those older, Asian-style boats with the sails supported by a series of long polessticking out horizontally from the masts.
It was enormous, even bigger than the Merriweather Inn, flying slowly on a cloud of green mist. Huge, slow, terrifying. It reminded Julian of the Star Destroyer in the opening scene of Star Wars.
The good news was that the boat, and its entourage of four red dragons, each half as big as the boat itself, did not appear to be interested in PortTown. The bad news was that it was easily less than a mile away, but Julian felt no sign of Ravenus.
