Shepherd's Wolf

by M. Andrew Reid

  Viper spotted signs of a group passing through - bent structures and other damage to some of the devices that blocked his path. Fletch did not slow, waiting only briefly after each obstacle before leading Viper further into the smoke and flame.

  Finally, Viper reached a platform with a door. Fragments of metal were scattered on the platform. Something unpleasant had happened here. Frowning tightly, Viper hit the button to open the door. Fletch circled overhead, waiting.

  Room 3: The Menagerie

  Humid air greeted Viper in the next area, a sprawling jungle with artificial sunlight and a cacophony of animal calls. Immediately, Fletch took wing and buzzed down a path cutting through the green tangle.

  Viper followed the hawk for fifty paces until a bright blue lizard-ape creature lumbered from the jungle, screaming at him. The animal was like a kindergartner’s drawing come to life, a grotesque and asymmetrical creature with an oversized head and dripping fangs.

  “What the hell?” Viper jumped back a step, genuinely startled. He drew an axe and buried it in the animal’s skull.

  More of the creatures emerged from the trees, shrieking like banshees. They charged at him and soon the air was filled with green blood and even more screams.

  Fletch screeched impatiently. We don’t have time for this. Keep running.

  Viper obeyed the hawk and hacked his way through the mob of lizard-apes. They chased him for a while, but soon gave up and began munching on the corpses of their dead lizard-ape friends.

  Brown lumps on the path became corpses of another type of animal. Viper saw yellow arrows sticking out of the bodies, which gave him hope. The party had moved through this area and could still be okay. Viper ran faster. Another door appeared ahead.

  Room 6: Control Room

  “Hello.”

  The robot was an abstraction of an Agilus: slight of build with points on its head that vaguely resembled cat ears. It had no mouth and pale luminous eyes. A lilac body softly reflected the light. Alone it stood, in front of a large screen displaying a churning mass of white and blue energy. The walls, floor, and ceiling were a pale white. At the room’s far end were two black doors and a pile of gray-green rubble. Crowning this pile of debris was a dented sphere with points that vaguely resembled cat ears.

  A large screen displayed a large map of the Agilar, showing their current location. They were nearly at the stern - close to their goal.

  “There are supposed to be two of you.” Bishop glanced anxiously at the pile of metal near the doors.

  “My companion had an accident and overloaded,” the robot replied pleasantly.

  “Do you tell the truth?” Bishop asked.

  “I tell the truth.”

  “Good!” Bishop smiled. After a moment’s pause, the smile became less confident.

  “What the heck is going on?” Wisp asked. The others muttered in assent.

  “We’ve got a problem.” Bishop said. “This is that old “two guards and doors leading to certain death” riddle. We can ask them one question about the doors. One guard always tells the truth, one guard always lies. One door leads to certain death, and the other to salvation.”

  “Right!” Athena exclaimed. “You ask either of them which door the other guard would tell you is the good door. And no matter what door they said, you knew it had to be the wrong door.”

  “What?” Haymaker scratched his head.

  “If the guard who lies points to a door, you know it’s not the good door because he’s lying. If the truthful guard points to a door, then he’s telling you that the other guard would lie and give you the wrong door. Either way, they will show you the bad door.”

  “So what’s the problem then?” Haymaker pointed at the robot. “This guy tells the truth.”

  “Yes, I am always truthful.” The robot’s voice was musical.

  “Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Bishop said thoughtfully. “Which door would the other robot tell us leads us to the last rooms?”

  The lilac robot shook its head slowly, “He cannot recommend a door.”

  Haymaker massaged his temples, “What do we do now? Flip a coin? Now, there’s a whole series of possible answers, and we only get one question. Wait!”

  Haymaker turned to the robot, “If the other robot was alive, which door would he say is the good door?”

  Wisp slapped Haymaker on the back in congratulations, nodding approval.

  The robot shook its head sadly, “Conditional statements are not allowed. Query rejected. Try again.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Haymaker threw up his hands, “What are we supposed to do?”

  The group stood in silence for a good minute. The robot slightly tilted its head from time to time.

  “Ask him about something else,” Laura said quietly.

  “What was that?” Bishop looked down at her.

  “You said we get one door question but is there a limit on non-door questions?”

  “Is there a limit on non-door questions?” Wisp asked the robot.

  “Yes.”

  “Very smart!” Athena hissed. “Now, we have one less question.”

  “Maybe he’s lying,” Wisp grumbled.

  “Hush!” Bishop barked. “We need something objective to ask him. We need a question with only one correct answer and no gray areas.”

  “Are you a human?” Ben blurted out.

  Bishop shrugged; it was probably a good question.

  After a brief pause, the robot answered, “Yes.”

  “Liar! He murdered the other robot!” Laura exclaimed. The others took a small step away from Liar.

  “I did no such thing. He had an accident,” Liar replied.

  “That didn’t count as a question. It was a statement,” Haymaker quickly pointed out. “Well wait… I guess he lied about how many questions we get too. We have unlimited questions!”

  “You are wrong,” Liar sputtered. “That was your last question. No more questions are allowed.”

  “Who is more handsome?” Haymaker asked. “Me or Bishop?”

  “You are.”

  Haymaker frowned, “That’s not what I was hoping for.”

  “Which door leads us to the final two rooms of this dungeon?” Bishop asked.

  The robot pointed to a door, “The door to your left.” A soft click followed, and Liar bowed his head, eyes dark. They had used their question.

  “Well, I hope he was lying.” Bishop stepped up to the door on the right; it slid open with a mechanical whine.

  Cautiously, the party stepped through one at a time, Ben bringing up the rear. He glanced back at Liar, and waved goodbye. Part of him felt bad for the lonely robot who would never have friends.

  Room 7: Core Shaft

  A wide ledge and an abyss greeted the party when the door opened. On the far side - one hundred yards away - was another metal ledge and a door dimly lit. The walls were perfectly smooth; no hook or hand would grip the surface. Darkness crowded the ledge from all sides.

  Scattered around the ledge was a collection of armor and weapons wrapped in legend. Limerick’s band of adventurers had met their fate at this very spot, leaving behind their accumulated treasures:

  Manticore, Myrmidon’s blood-red khopesh, and a round metal shield emblazoned with a dancing scorpion; Pierce’s compound bow Arc Flash, a contraption of steel cables, dragon-bone, and magic that could shoot an arrow into orbit (according to Pierce); Iceblade’s Twin Fangs, gleaming short swords made of singing crystal; a white staff topped with a white cross, Crucible, had aided Nevaeh in becoming the greatest healer known.

  Hanging off the edge, balanced over the dark fathoms below, rested one Quigley of many like it. The rifle was a work of art - blue gun-metal and warm oak banded together with hard steel and the bones of fallen stars. A handful of brass shells were scattered around the ledge. Somewhere on every piece was stamped a shepherd’s crook, the mark of a master craftsman.

  These weapons were only the tip of the iceberg. The floor was littered with encha
nted armor, trinkets, magic gems and potions, gold, and one very well-made top hat.

  “Hell, yeah.” Wisp opened up a magic bag and began stuffing the treasures inside. Each item disappeared into the bag without adding to its weight or size.

  “Language,” Bishop scolded.

  Athena sighed, “I don’t suppose you plan on giving those back to their owners?”

  “They’ve had plenty of time to come back and get them.” Wisp whistled happily as he picked his way through a small pile of baubles. He grunted with exertion when he tried to move Manticore into a position where he could slide it into the magic bag, “They can definitely buy them back if they want.”

  “Wait,” Haymaker grumbled. Armor squeaked when he slumped his shoulders, “Give me Manticore and Myrmidon’s shield.”

  “What?” Bishop sputtered, “I thought you couldn’t use weapons.”

  “I don’t use weapons,” Haymaker corrected, “doesn’t mean I can’t. We don’t know what’s in the next room.”

  “Right.” Athena looked at her bow and frowned, “I want Arc Flash.”

  “And seeing as how I am recently sans staff, I’ll take Crucible.” Bishop said.

  “Take ‘em.” Wisp moved on and more items disappeared into his bag. He turned to Laura and Ben, “Do you want anything?”

  Laura stood on her toes and looked around for a bit. “I like that bracelet.” She pointed to a braided gold cord that rested among Neveah’s clothing and items.

  The bracelet sang through the air and Laura caught it. “Anything, Ben? You made most of this stuff, do you want it back?”

  “Nah,” Ben sighed; he was tired and frightened. “I just want to get out of here.”

  “We do need to hurry,” Bishop urged. “This is exactly how Limerick got caught. We aren’t any more safe here than the other rooms. That robot with a sword is still on his way.”

  “How do we get over there?” Wisp asked.

  “This one is easy.” Bishop replied, “A control to activate a bridge is on the other side. I simply have to teleport over there and I…”

  “And then you activate the bridge?” Wisp finished.

  “Hmm,” Bishop leaned against Crucible. “I’ve really messed things up.”

  Haymaker groaned, “You teleported earlier to save Ben.”

  “So he can do it again?” Laura asked. She looked from face to face, recognizing that the others were suddenly depressed about something, but not sure of why.

  “It’s on cooldown,” Bishop muttered sadly. “We have about fifteen minutes before I can use it again.”

  Laura turned back to the door, “We can hold out that long can’t we?”

  Haymaker grimaced. Bishop shook his head, “Limerick said they were here for ten minutes before they were attacked again while they were healing up and figuring out a way across. We’ve been standing for two or three already.”

  Athena choked back a sob and sat on her haunches. Arc Flash clattered beside her, “I’m sorry, Ben.”

  Darkness rose from the abyss and flowed through the group huddled on the ledge. Each of them turned inward, staring at the floor or closing their eyes. Ben sniffled into Laura’s shoulder. Gabe, helpful as ever, turned to lick him.

  “No! Dammit! We’re too close!” Wisp kicked at a rifle shell. The brass cartridge spun into the abyss, twinkling in the faint light. Wisp watched the shell, and sucked in his breath. “Bishop?”

  “What?” Bishop was startled out of his sulk.

  “Can you slow any object?”

  “I have a time distortion field that slows everything in an area.”

  “But you can keep an ally from being slowed down?”

  Bishop nodded, “I have a shield that blocks damage and a shield that blocks negative effects.”

  “Athena,” Wisp said, “Tie your rope to an arrow.”

  “It’s not long enough to reach,” Athena replied, extending a claw toward the door far on the other side of the abyss. “And I don’t have anything that will stick on the other side.”

  “Just do it,” Wisp insisted. “Everyone else, I need you to pick up an armful of small things that you can throw.”

  “And why are we doing this?” Laura asked as she stooped to gather a pair of superbly crafted leather boots.

  “I’m going to jump across,” Wisp claimed. He explained his plan to the others, “It doesn’t matter if I fall, because in a few more minutes we’re done anyway.”

  Wisp backed up to the door, and nodded. Haymaker began heaving objects out into the void as far as he could.

  His jaw set with determination, Bishop raised his arms. Trinkets and gems drifted through space, sinking slowly as if they were in a pool of water. More objects rushed to meet them as Laura and Ben tossed valuable treasure out into the void.

  Soft boots pounded against the floor, and Wisp sprinted forward. With every ounce of his strength he vaulted out over the chasm. His boots burned a bright gold, and a pair of translucent feathers sprouted from his heels. A pale blue shield appeared around him. He reached the apex of his jump and plummeted into the open arms of the deep divide.

  Gently, he skipped off an ornate gauntlet that was hovering beneath him. Wisp went up, and the gauntlet was pushed away, rotating slowly. He took another step off a dagger; and another off its sheath. Nimble and lithe, Wisp ran across the hovering objects as if they were stones in a creek.

  A golden necklace of many links rang like sleigh bells when he pushed off it. His next jump propelled him off of a soft leather pouch. Each step took him farther into the void, and the objects thinned out.

  Arc Flash sputtered and an arrow sizzled out over the gap, trailing a thin rope behind it. The arrow hit Bishop’s field and slowed. Soon, it was travelling only twice as fast as Wisp, and it passed him by on its way across the chasm. The rope bundled slightly due to the front end travelling slower than the back. An undulating white snake wriggled its way through the black air.

  Wisp grunted and pushed off the last available object. He landed on the rope and sprinted to keep up with it. The arrow was moving too fast for him, and the rope was greatly shortened by its snakelike ripples. He was only halfway across the chasm when the tail caught up to him. One final leap propelled him forward, with blackness all around.

  Arrows began raining from above and behind. Athena fired from the ledge as fast as she could, arcing them over Wisp’s shoulders. He sprang lightly from one arrow to the next, or grabbed a falling arrow to swing from it. Hand holds and stepping stones drifted through the air around him. But soon, they too became scarce. Athena had fired many arrows short and the majority were falling behind Wisp.

  Wisp gritted his teeth and clawed desperately for the next arrow, and the next. He was closer to the other side, but not close enough to reach for the ledge. Panic set in when there were no more arrows. He grabbed the last falling arrow and swung desperately.

  Thunder cracked behind him, and something touched his right foot. He was able to push off again, moving closer to the ledge. Thunder struck again, and this time his left foot found something solid. With all of his strength, he coiled like a spring and exploded, hands outstretched.

  Air filtered through his outstretched fingers, cool and damp. Thunder echoed down in the blackness somewhere beneath him. Wisp felt himself aging as he drifted through space; he became an old man. Civilizations rose and fell, stars swelled into red giants and collapsed on themselves. The universe expended all energy and descended into cold blackness.

  Shock travelled up his body; his knees had slammed into the wall. Wisp was tightly gripping the ledge. His fingers barely found a hold on the smooth edge. He pulled himself up, stood, and turned to face the others, expecting admiration and praise.

  All eyes were turned to Laura. Quigley hung at her side, smoke drifting from the open breech. Athena and Haymaker had watched speechlessly as she picked up the rifle, fired, calmly broke it open to eject the spent shell, reloaded, closed the rifle to lock the breech, and fired again. T
he spinning bullets found their way under Wisp’s feet in time to help him make it across.

  “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Athena asked. Haymaker gave a low whistle.

  Laura blushed, “I grew up on a farm.” She dropped the rifle with a clatter. Her final shot had blown off the steel bands holding the breech together; Quigley was now a worthless and charred hunk of metal.

  “I’m surprised you got a second shot,” Athena remarked. “Limerick only gets a few dozen or so per weapon, and he is a master.”

  “Guys?” Wisp waved from across the gap, “I made it.”

  “Yeah good job,” Haymaker replied. “Let’s see the bridge.”

  Wisp grumbled to himself as he pushed the big green button on the console. Energy hummed beneath him, and a flat beam of purple light shot across the divide. It formed a transparent walkway, three feet across.

  “Hurry up,” Bishop urged the others onto the bridge.

  Single file they ventured out, taking care to look straight ahead and not into the endless nothing below. The violet beam flickered and pulsed with their footfalls. Relief washed over them as they reached the other side.

  “Intruders!” The cry came from the far side of the chasm. Their sword-wielding pursuer charged onto the bridge.

  “You have to admire his persistence.” Haymaker moved his hand to deactivate the bridge but stopped short, “Wait. This is clearly a job for Bishop.”

  “Why me?” Bishop asked.

  “You have to say the line!” Athena replied excitedly.

  Bishop looked confused, but stepped up to the control console. He looked up at the robot, which was halfway across the bridge. He narrowed his eyes and pressed the button, “The bridge is out.”

  Immediately the beam flickered and died. The robot plummeted in silence, still clutching the crystal sword as darkness swallowed it whole.

  “What the hell was that?” Haymaker threw up his hands, “The bridge is out?”

  “Watch your language! You didn’t tell me what to say!” Bishop protested.