Once Around the Realms (single books)

by Brian Thomsen

The honorable shipbuilder bowed graciously, and, in a very Western manner undoubtedly influenced by Blackthumb's company, proclaimed, "Okay, guys. What do you wanna buy, and what do you have to sell?"

  Chiun leaped to the front of the conversation.

  "We want the best junk available to take us to the Isles of Wa," the old priest proclaimed, "and in exchange we will trade you the four finest steeds from all of Taan."

  Tai examined the horses one at a time, scowled, and acted as if he weren't interested in the deal. "Gee, I don't know," the shipbuilder considered out loud. "I know that you're friends of Blackthumb and all, but if you ask me, these horses aren't even worth the price of a dinghy."

  Chiun responded.

  "Mad Monkey say, 'Honesty is the best policy' and 'A fair deal is a square deal.' "

  "I guess you're right," Tai agreed. "You just bought yourself a junk."

  Passepout whispered to Volo, "What do we need a junk for?"

  Volo answered, "To bring us to the Isles of Wa. A junk is an oriental sailing ship."

  "Oh, great," the chubby thespian responded, hoping that the cleric's cure for motion sickness was still in effect.

  Though overtly rickety and obviously in need of a good coat of paint, the junk that Tai provided was more than suitable for the next leg of their journey eastward, with ample room under cover as protection against the spray of the surf.

  Shurleen's iciness toward Passepout continued. Upon seeing him once again discard a red gem into the depths of the Celestial Sea, she began to rant publicly. "Do you believe that half-wit?" she fumed.

  Passepout tried to ignore her, turning his attention to their young charge, who was badly in need of a change of diapers.

  "Why don't you leave the guy alone?" Curtis scolded. "It's not like he's ever treated you like anything less than a queen."

  "Position in society has its privileges," she countered. "Royal treatment is no less than I deserve after the way I've been treated."

  "I'm sick of your wining, your complaints, and your insults," Curtis responded. "A simple thank you to us for rescuing you from the Horde, let alone to him for saving your life last night would be a pleasant change."

  "How dare you!" she sputtered.

  "Yes," he agreed, "how dare I!"

  Curtis turned his back on Shurleen and took a seat by the chubby thespian. He proceeded to apologize for his unkind remarks of the past and to compliment Passepout on his bravery of the night before. Shurleen turned her back on the two, and fumed to the waves.

  Chiun was standing by Volo at the junk's helm, the Isles of Wa just coming into view.

  "Chiun, last night you said something about 'sending undead elven assassins to do a man's work is cheating,' " Volo commented.

  "Yes," Chiun responded. "Elves are not native to Kara-Tur. Training them as ninjas is abhorrent. Involving them in Kara-Tur affairs is even worse."

  "Who is involving them in Kara-Tur affairs, and how?"

  "The corrupt shogun who desires the child dead has a patron who goes by the name of Dragon Claw, who is in reality a petty fiend. He is the arch nemesis of Mad Monkey, and the one responsible for the cheating."

  "Why are he and Mad Monkey at odds?"

  "Many years ago they fought a contest of fighting styles. Mad Monkey won, and an agreement was reached whereby the Mad Monkey school on the Isles of Wa would be considered a sanctuary for those wishing acceptance."

  "I see," said Volo, fingering his beard.

  "There are rules, of course," Chiun said, adding pointedly, "not unlike the ones you must follow in your eastward journey."

  "Rules?" Volo asked innocently. "Us?"

  "Requirements such as the dropping of the necromancer's gems along the way while never retracing your steps."

  Volo was taken aback. "Did Passepout tell you about this?" the master traveler inquired.

  "No," Chiun replied. "I saw the gems in his possession, and recognized them."

  Volo was still slightly uneasy.

  "Don't worry," Chiun explained. "Mad Monkey will watch out for you."

  Volo was still unsure and wanted to pursue his inquiry when the old priest pointed to the largest isle.

  "There is the harbor for the school. It is our destination. The place where the child will be safe."

  The junk made port at an unattended dock, as per Chiun's instructions.

  "You must take the child to the school at the end of the path," he instructed.

  Curtis asked, "Won't you be going with us?"

  Chiun shook his head, and said, "Mad Monkey say 'The needs of the young may precede the concerns of the elderly.' I will meet you there later." The old man then set off down a different path along the shore.

  "Well," Volo instructed, "no time like the present to get things started. The sooner we get the kid to the school, the sooner the kid's safety will be assured."

  "Mad Monkey say," Passepout jibed, " 'can't we have lunch first?'"

  The entire group groaned, ignored the suggestion, and headed down the path.

  After an hour's walk along the carefully slated path, the Mad Monkey school began to appear in the distance.

  "Looks like we've got this kid home free!" Shurleen declared, nuzzling her charge and beginning to miss him already.

  A sulphurous explosion erupted before them, blocking their path.

  When the smoke cleared, they were standing face-to-face with the dreaded fiend Dragon Claw.

  Dragon Claw was repulsive-fatter than Passepout, covered in scales, with the head of a dragon, and four arms, each ending in a tightly gripped hooked sword, which was the signature weapon of his school of fighting.

  The scent of fire, sulphur, and brimstone was heavy in the air. The fiend let loose with four fireballs as a show of force. Each one exploded right before the travelers, leaving a scorch mark at their feet.

  "Give the child to me!" the Dragon Claw demanded.

  "No!" Shurleen screamed. "Over my dead body!"

  "No," cried the fiend with a laugh, "that comes later, for all of you."

  Dragon Claw began to bear down on the group, swords slicing through the air with lightning speed as the fiend showed off his skill before going in for the kill.

  "Hey," cried a familiar but frail voice, "over here, you pustule on the Celestial Bureaucracy's rear."

  Chiun had appeared, once again seemingly out of nowhere, to challenge the demon.

  Chiun raised his staff, and declared, "The son of the samurai has achieved sanctuary. You can harm him no longer."

  Dragon Claw laughed at the frail mortal.

  "The son of the samurai will be my appetizer. You will be my supper," the fiend replied.

  "You have violated the terms of our agreement by interfering with the quest of these mortals.

  Their bravery has saved them, even after your otherworldly interference has threatened them. The child will receive sanctuary, and the travelers will have their journey vouchsafed."

  Dragon Claw continued to laugh and crow, bolts of fire and lightning framing his awe-inspiring figure.

  "I have made no agreements with mortals," the fiend replied.

  "I am not mortal," Chiun replied, and with a flash of blue light, the old coot became transformed into his demigod form, even more awe-inspiring than that of Dragon Claw. "I am Mad Monkey!"

  Dragon Claw growled, smoke emanating from its ears. Quickly the growl turned into a roar and the smoke into flames of purple fire. Like an on-rushing dragon, the fiend let loose a bellow of sulphurous gas and sprang at the demigod.

  Raising his staff, which was also revealed now as the iron bar of power, the demigod struck the lesser fiend across its infernal countenance, knocking it out and allowing the travelers to pass with the child.

  Carefully the travelers stepped around the prostrate body of the denizen of the abyss, their nostrils assaulted by the noxious fumes that emanated from its unconscious form.

  On the other side of the brush behind the petty fiend was the door to the schoo
l. As the group approached, several priests came out, and took the child from the hands of Shurleen, without saying a word, they carried it into the inner sanctum of the school.

  "Wait," Shurleen called. "I just wanted to say good-bye."

  The demigod Mad Monkey reappeared at their side.

  "They do not understand you," the demigod explained. "Common is not spoken here. It is only because I am part of the Celestial Bureaucracy that I have been able to communicate with you."

  "I should have known that," Volo volunteered.

  "You had other things on your mind," the demigod offered. "Though I am prohibited from transporting untried acolytes to my school, I am allowed to assist them, provided they prove themselves worthy, as indeed you have."

  Mad Monkey continued his proclamation.

  "The child will be safe. He will be trained as a samurai, and his father's legacy will be secured. He will not be allowed to leave the sanctuary of this citadel until he is able to protect himself. You who are not disciples of Mad Monkey cannot receive the sanctuary of my school."

  "Great," Curtis replied unenthusiastically.

  "Dragon Claw will awake soon. He will be angry, and though he cannot hurt Mad Monkey or his disciples, he can hurt you," the demigod confessed.

  "Wonderful," Passepout remarked, thinking about just what else could go wrong at this point.

  "I cannot protect you from him," the demigod explained, "but I can see that you are safely escorted from the lands in which he dwells before he awakens. I could offer you a shortcut to the east, you might say."

  Mad Monkey gave Volo and Passepout a wink, overlooked by the others, to assure the two travelers that he realized the needs of their arrangements. Then with a wave of his staff, the demigod opened a hole in the fabric of reality that was the Isles of Wa.

  "Go quickly," the demigod instructed, "and follow the path that lies ahead of you. Observe whatever you want along the way, but stop to talk to no one except each other. There will be a light at the far end. Go to it."

  "Where will that be?" Volo asked.

  "A place farther east," the demigod replied. "Now go! Time is short. Already that petty fiend Dragon Claw is drifting into consciousness."

  One by one, the travelers entered the pitch-black portal until only Passepout remained with Mad Monkey.

  The chubby thespian hesitated.

  "You are braver than you believe," the demigod encouraged.

  "Is this shortcut dangerous?" Passepout asked.

  "Of course not," the demigod replied, giving the heavyset thespian a push that sent him hurtling through the portal. "It is only through the land of the dead."

  The last thing Passepout heard before the darkness enveloped him was the laughter of the demigod known as Mad Monkey.

  Then all went black.

  Chapter 17

  The portal to the east or A Shortcut Through the Land of the Dead

  "Well, it's about time," Shurleen reproved. "What took you so long?"

  "I had to say good-bye to our most gracious host," Passepout responded, brushing past her to take his place at Volo's side.

  "Well, if that's all of us," Volo observed, taking the lead, "onward, then."

  The four travelers started walking farther into the darkness.

  The darkness was of a strange quality. It was pitch black, as if one were buried alive, yet there seemed to be enough illumination so that they could see each other, as well as certain details of the passage around them.

  The passage around them was also curious. At one point it seemed to be an infinite universe of darkness stretching out in all directions around the narrow path upon which they walked, dwarfing them in its infinity. At other times it seemed to close in on them as if it were a mine or a cave through some Underdark lair or mountain cavern, with the only space existing a hairbreadth above their heads and even less than that at their sides. It was both an agoraphobic's and a claustrophobic's nightmare at the same time.

  Though none of the party had yet to see anything that might pose a threat, uneasiness pervaded their midst, a palpable fear of the unknown that seemed to be tightening its grip on them the farther they went.

  "Remember," Volo reminded, "don't talk to anyone we come across."

  "What is this place?" Shurleen asked, a none-too-slight tremor audible in her voice.

  "Mad Monkey said it was the Land of the Dead," Passepout replied.

  Shurleen shivered at the mention of the word "dead," and quickly grasped the hand of the person nearest her as a secondary reinforcement that she was not alone. Curtis looked down at his hand firmly grasped by the heiress, her lacquered nails reflecting the darkness while framed in the creamy whiteness of her pampered hands. His urge to pull away was overridden by his sense of the needs of his companion, no matter how disagreeable she could be.

  Gradually, parts of the passing landscape became clearer as they passed. Exotic beasts, horned beings, and mindless husks that once might have walked among the living seemed to pass them by as if they were unaware of the travelers' presence.

  "Who are they?" Shurleen whispered.

  "Beings with whom we do not wish to speak," Curtis succinctly replied, urging her to move faster so their group would not become more stretched out.

  After what seemed like hours of treading through the darkness, the group decided to rest for a few minutes to catch their breath.

  "Mad Monkey didn't say anything about not stopping along the way, did he?" Volo queried of the rotund thespian.

  "No," Passepout replied. "Stopping seemed to be all right as long as we didn't talk to anyone. I even remember he said we could observe what we wanted, though, quite frankly, I really haven't seen anything worth writing home about."

  "Let's hope it stays that way," Curtis interjected. "I prefer boring and dull to dangerous and deadly any day."

  "I wouldn't call the walking dead and fiends of the underworld boring and dull," Shurleen argued, without relinquishing her grip on Curtis's hand.

  "Hey, if they don't bother us, we won't bother them, and that's fine by me," Curtis replied, beginning to enjoy the feeling of feminine digits between his rough-skinned fingers, calloused by the bristles of splintering ropes and abrasive surfaces.

  Passepout saw a rocky, mushroom-like growth off to the side which he thought would make a good seat to rest his weary bulk, and decided to remove himself from the group to take advantage of it.

  Eo, that feels good, Passepout thought, his thoughts beginning to drift as his body began to relax.

  "Hi! Remember me?" a voice purred.

  There, now sitting next to him, was the inviting figure of Shurleen dressed as she had been that night at the No Bull House, silken kimono open almost to the waist, her hair freshly scented with lotus blossom shampoo.

  "I want you!" the voice purred.

  Once again Passepout was at a loss for words, his desires and fragile ego riding a runaway mining car down a steep-sloped tunnel.

  "Now!" the voice demanded.

  "Hey, Passepout, time to get the lead out. We'd be burning daylight if there were any light to be had," called the voice of the master traveler.

  Passepout was pulled back, jerking his head back toward Volo's voice. The rest of the group had taken to their feet and were preparing to leave… Shurleen included, now attired in the traveling clothes he seemed to recall she had been wearing when they entered the portal.

  But if she's over there, then who's over here? the chubby thespian thought. He turned his head back to the source of the amorous purring, but nothing was there now, not even the lingering scent of lotus blossom shampoo.

  Passepout got to his feet and rejoined the group.

  Oh, well, he thought to himself, at least I didn't talk to her. That would probably have been a bad thing. I think I'll stick to the path with the others from now on.

  With a quick glance back at where he had been sitting, a quick thought of regret at what might have been, followed by a quick thought of terror at what re
ally might have been, he proceeded with the others down the path.

  "You know," Passepout declared, "I think it's probably a good idea for us to stay on the path, and not wander too far to the sides, and, above all, remember not to talk to strangers."

  "Good advice, well said," Volo agreed, wondering what had instigated the advisory recap from the young thespian, but then quickly returning to the matters at hand.

  "Onward," he urged. "Mad Monkey assured us that there would be a light at the end of this tunnel. We just haven't reached it yet."

  "And remember," Passepout interrupted, once again with a warning tone, "sometimes the darkness plays tricks on the mind. There's no telling what you might see-or at least think you see."

  Volo did a double take at his overly cautious companion, shook his head, and pressed on.

  The path began to wind more, and the sights became more bizarre. They saw an ashen tapestry of what appeared to be crying mouths, hanging from a spear, frozen in mid-decay as if to have been preserved at precisely the moment before total disintegration occurred. Maniacal laughter could be heard from the shadows, though the source of the jocularity was noticeably absent.

  Farther on, they came upon a rubbled site, as if an entire palace had been destroyed. The wreckage from the site seemed to have been made of bone and human flesh, both now reduced to shards and tatters.

  "The bone palace of Cyric has been destroyed," Volo whispered. There were rumors of this among the Lords of Waterdeep and the College of War Wizards, but I never thought I would ever actually see it, at least not while I was still alive."

  "Wasn't Cyric the God of Strife and Lord of the Dead?" Curtis asked. "Who could have done this?"

  "Even the mad Prince of Lies himself has powerful enemies," Volo replied.

  Much farther down the winding path, Volo halted the group.

  "Listen!" he whispered urgently.

  A steady murmuring of a single monotonous voice could be heard in the distance.

  The truth is there.

  They will understand it.

  Am I not the true King of the Dead?

  It must be true.

  The Cyrinishad said so.

  Yes.