by Eric Ugland
He nodded, taking my quip seriously.
"Okay," I said. ”Let's head home."
It wasn’t until we were halfway back to my place that I realized I forgot my boots and cloak. Again.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
For once, nothing out of the ordinary happened on the walk home. It was just a long, awkward walk with relative silence. Nox talking to Klara in hushed tones. It didn’t seem particularly suspicious, like they were trying to keep secrets or plot some sort treachery. I’m sure they were talking about me, maybe about strategies to get their new master, which I horribly was, to be on their side. Something along those lines.
The Heavy Purse was closed, which meant it was empty. The truly inebriated had also stumbled off somewhere else, so it was pretty quiet indeed. I assumed everyone was asleep.
I was going to give the gang a brief rundown, but it felt dangerous to be outside in the dark when it wasn't absolutely necessary. It would be just as useful to give them the lay of the land once we were inside. So I unlocked the door, and ushered everyone into the building. I caught a slice of movement in the sky above, but I wasn't willing to go peek to see what it was. Maybe just a nocturnal pigeon.
We headed up the stairs and into my apartment, which wasn't fully dark or empty. Shae was asleep in the bed, and she’d evidently left some candles burning on the table.
I stopped short. This was about to get extra-special awkward.
Because I stopped short, Nox Kvist stopped short, almost bumping into me. Klara did bump into Nox, which then sent him a bit more into me, and Mornax completed the slapstick routine by knocking the three of us over into a heap on the apartment floor.
Shae sat up, then pulled the blankets up around her.
No one spoke. Shae seemed to be trying to decide whether or not I, and by extension she, was in danger. And the three new friends of mine were essentially going through the same calculations, only about Shae. Collectively, it was a mess.
"Okay," I said, “Now would probably good to get some introductions going."
"Yeah," Shae replied. "Who are they?"
"Who are you?" Klara countered, her hand on her blade.
"She's a friend," I said, putting my hand over Klara's so no one got a surprise stab. "We are all friends here."
With that, everyone chilled out, more or less. My trio was still a bit on edge, but not actively so. A more relaxed edge.
"Shae," I said, "these are new, uh, friends, I guess. Klara, Nox, and Mornax the Destroyer."
"No need to say the ‘the destroyer’ bit every time,” Mornax whispered to me.
"But it's the coolest part of your name," I said.
"Charmed?" Shae asked. "Where did they come from? And what time is it?“
"Carchedon," Nox said, with more than a little pride in his voice.
"Let's tone that down, too," I said. "Not sure your, uh, Carchedon is going to be super that popular in coming weeks. Or, you know, ever." I turned my attention to Shae, and sat down on the end of the bed. "How many apartments did you give the kobolds?"
"Four," she said. "But they're also taking the basement of the bakery."
"So how many does that leave us?"
"Open?"
"Yeah."
"One."
"There were seven apartments there."
“One of Godfrey’s buddies needed a place to live."
"And?"
“And then someone in the neighborhood came by and asked if she could move in because she heard it was safe here."
"And we're a big bunch of softies."
"Seems to be the case."
I thought about all the people and creatures depending on me to keep this place safe. “Hey, any chance you know if Hellion has been fed recently?"
"You'd have to ask Nadya."
"Well, I need blankets for them right now,” I said. “Let's go take a look, shall we?"
"I'm in bed already," Shae replied.
"I meant them. You stay here."
I led everyone down to the training room, but paused at the door.
"There's a mimic inside," I said. “But he's kind of a pet. Just, well, I'm not exactly sure the limit to how much of a pet he is, and how much he’s just refrained from eating us because we've been feeding him. So, let's just, uh, you know—”
"Be careful," Mornax said.
“Exactly.”
I pushed the door opened and looked around. Hellion was not where I’d left him. Instead, he was on the ceiling. And he’d grown. Substantially. He no longer looked like a treasure chest — he more looked like something capable of storing an entire season’s worth of gowns for a royal family who'd been amply blessed with daughters.
"At least he is easy to spot," Nox said.
Hellion's mouth, the lid, sprouted eyes. It took a moment for them all to swivel around and focus on me. Then the lid opened up, or in this case, down, and a big tongue flopped out, a bit like a dog's. Kind of like Hellion was happy to see me.
“Hi there, Hellion," I said. "We're just coming in here to, uh, grab a few blankets. So, no need to, you know, eat us."
The mimic dropped off the ceiling and hit the ground. But not upside down. He somehow seemed to change and reform himself so that his top became his bottom and his bottom became his top, so that when he hit the floor, he was right side up. Totally normal.
Then he just sat there. Like an ordinary, if oversized chest.
"I've got some blankets and stuff over there," I said. “It won’t be the most comfortable sleep, but it's something for tonight. We can work on actually getting, uh, more permanent arrangements for you tomorrow. And Hellion, chests don’t usually hang out on ceilings. Just, you know, pro-tip there.”
Hellion burped.
There were nods in the group. We gathered up blankets from the stack, giving the mimic a wide berth, and then went back up to my apartment. Then, well, we made sleeping spots. I did have Klara take the bed with Shae, though. That just seemed to make the most sense.
I lay there in my dark apartment with four people I barely knew. What the hell had I gotten myself into? The deeper I got into the politics and machinations of Glaton, the less confident I became in my place in the city. What was I even doing here? How could I get enough people in my guild? In time? Should I just forget about the guild and run the bakery? How was I supposed to tell Matthew that Valamir was, maybe, a decent human being?
I rolled around in the pile of blankets, searching for a comfortable position. I felt safe, sure, at least as safe as I'd ever felt in my new world. Finally I managed to find a way to arrange the blankets so that it was like having a pillow. A bit. A few deep breaths, and I just laid there and counted metaphorical sheep.
I'm not exactly sure when I actually fell asleep, but I do know that's when it got weird.
Chapter Forty
Suddenly I was fully awake and standing in a field full of lush, verdant grass that was as long as my legs. It was jolting to be standing up and not how I’d gotten that way. Kind of like a dream, but I knew I wasn’t dreaming because the blades of grass tickled my fingertips.
The sky above was a nearly monochromatic, perfect azure. Beautiful, sure, but odd. Unrealistic. A brilliant sun hung in the sky, but it wasn't overwhelming. I felt like I could stare at it if I wanted without doing any real damage to my eyes. There were very gentle hills on the horizon, but nearly perfectly flat everywhere else.
I knelt down and felt the ground, but it just felt soft. The grass smelled nice, clean and fresh. With just the hint of a breeze coming from the same direction as the sun.
"I have been waiting for you," I heard a woman say.
I turned around to see a beautiful woman walking toward me, the grass basically parting for her. Someone I felt like I'd seen before.
She was devastatingly beautiful. Perfection in every fiber of her being, not just symmetry. Nothing was out of place, every aspect of her face and body and hair, it all went together seamlessly. There wasn’t a fleck of dried or dea
d skin anywhere, and every strand of hair lay exactly where it should be, despite the breeze.
"Have we met?" I asked.
"We have, but in a more informal setting," she replied. "This time, I am here to judge you."
“All right then. Any chance you'd let me, I don’t know, see what you're judging on? Maybe let me prepare for it a little?"
"No. It is better for you to be free from expectations. That is how I will make my best decision on you."
"Yeah, see, I'd rather, you know, not have that be the case. I’d prefer if things were a bit more, uh, in my favor."
She smiled, raised a perfect finger to my imperfect face, and touched me.
"You are a strange one," she said. "But I suppose that is to be expected of those from another world. A world that is so different from our own."
“What do you know about that?"
"It would be more appropriate to say I know of it, not that I know about it."
"Do you know why I'm here?"
Another smile. She smiled a lot. This one was more coy, like she had a secret, and she wanted me to know she had a secret, but was in no way about to tell me.
"I do, but that is something I cannot tell you."
"Okay then," I said. "Is this your, uh, world?"
"This is just a dream you are having," she said. “More or less. It is a point for the two of us to meet and speak without fear of anyone listening in or interrupting us."
"It's beautiful.”
"Thank you. It is a point on Vuldranni — perhaps you can find your way there one day."
"Is it in Glaton?"
"Sadly, no. But it is one of my favorite spots in the world. A slice of perfection in the chaos of life."
"You're the goddess of life, right?"
"I am."
"And you're here because of Leofing?"
"It is more proper to say Leofing is there because of me."
“I would guess that makes you Mokoš, right?”
“Some call me that, yes.”
“Leofing, he calls you that.”
She nodded.
“He's a good guy,” I said.
"He is. But this is a moment for me to judge you, Clyde Hatchett. I will refrain from using your true name, though I do know it. I seek to know if you are, perhaps, a champion I might champion."
"A champion? What do you mean?"
"It is as it sounds."
"It sounds a bit nuts."
"Perhaps. But I find myself in an odd position, because you are not what one might consider a typical champion for me."
"I'm sorry. But to be fair, I didn't ask to be your champion."
"It is rarely something one is able to ask for. Rather, you are sought out."
"And this is you seeking me out? By having me stumble on your paladin?"
"You think you stumbled upon him?"
"Certainly seems that way. I mean, unless you managed to get the Iron Silents to throw me into the graveyard, and then compel me to walk in exactly the right direction to wind up in the spot to save Leofing. Which means you put him--"
Mokoš held up her hand, and I stopped talking. Through no choice of my own, mind you, I just stopped. Like the air feeding my vocal cords just disappeared.
"You risk speaking to a god in this disrespectful tone? You would do well to remember what it is I am capable of."
She glared at me for a moment, and I could feel an overwhelming sense of power behind her eyes. It was a brutal reminder that I had no idea what she was capable of. But, chances were Mokoš could make my life really painful if she so chose.
“My apologies," I said, noting that I could speak normally now.
She smiled again, then looked around.
"It is rare to find one such as you in this world. Someone who has come through without any connections."
"Is it, I mean, do you mind if I ask questions?"
"Feel free. But understand, there are rules even gods must follow, so there will be questions I cannot answer, and questions I will not answer. Did you have a question?"
"What do you mean by connections?"
"Someone who brings you here."
"Like a patron?"
"That could be a word to describe it, yes."
"Etta said something about that."
"Etta? Is that—“
“She’s the first person I met here."
"And she is one from your world?"
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, as far as I know at least."
"Etta," Mokoš said, then repeated it again, "Etta." Almost like she was making sure she would remember the name. And all of a sudden I had a really bad feeling about things, as if maybe I shouldn't given up the name of another Earthling. Still, it was just a name, right?
"Yeah, she, uh, she said something about patrons, and then when I tried to get more out of her, she shut me down. Said that if I didn't know, I didn't need to know. And that there was nothing she could tell me."
"It sounds as if she was talking about something similar, yes. We could call it a patron. There are those like yourself who are brought here to be champions, and they are usually associated with a patron. But you, you seem to have slipped through somehow, with no patron attached. No one to guide you or share in your accomplishments. It is, in fact, a rarity. So rare that it’s something I have never heard of before, though I assume it is possible. Clearly it is possible: you stand before me. But then why did it happen? Who saw you and let you through but did not think to take ownership?'
“Hold up. Ownership—?”
"Not the right word, but I feel it is not worth it to search for the right one. This discussion does take energy from me. I host you in this ethereal state, and must hold the rest of the universe back while we chat. Do not think it is something I take lightly, and please forgive me if I say something out of turn in that regard. I am also unused to speaking with your kind."
"You speak to Leofing, though, right?"
"I speak, and sometimes Leofing listens. It is rare for me to show my form to him. Or to let him speak to me in any sense beyond prayer. Not that I do not value the man, but he is not a champion of mine. He is a servant."
"Seems a bit semantical. You know, the difference."
"And yet there is an awful lot of difference in those two things, yes?”
"I suppose."
"You would do well to do better than supposing, Clyde Hatchett. You traipse about in this world believing you know what is going on, and yet, let me be one to tell you that you are but a toddler who believes he has grasped the meaning of life though he has yet to step out of his nursery.”
“Because I haven’t left Glaton?”
“What are your goals here?”
“Here being Glaton?”
“Answer me.”
“I don’t know.”
“At least there is a measure of honesty and humility in you. Try again.”
“My goals. I mean, I guess I want to make Glaton a better place—“
“Do not think that I cannot merely read your mind should I chose. Understand that this, seeing how you choose to evade my question, is also part of my investigation into you. What are your goals?”
I looked away form her, and I stared out at the grassy plains. It was absolutely beautiful. Just warm enough that the cool breeze was refreshing. The wind blew the grass in waves, almost like standing in a sea of green.
“I thought I wanted to be some badass thief. Or a rogue. It’s what I was back in, I mean, on Earth. Minus the badass. I was a decent thief there, and it was a skill I thought might transfer here. But when I got here, I saw rich assholes who were doing horrible things, and I wanted to take them down. I met people who were hardworking and earnest. I met families who reached out and took me in, and I... I wanted to be more of a good person than I was in the past. But I don’t know how to do that without being on the other side of the law here. And that makes me a bit of a bad guy. This world is so much more violent than where I come from. Death is so much more of an
everyday occurrence here, I don’t know how I would exist without causing it, you know? I don’t intend to kill people, or things, but it just seems like that’s the way things work here. And magic, man, I don’t even understand how I got so mired into the weird side of magic. I just thought it would be cool to have a few spells on tap. And now I’m raising the dead and ripping bones out of bodies.”
I grabbed some grass, and rolled it around in my hand. I wished it was the kind of stuff where you could pull the seeds off the end and throw them into the breeze.
“You know what it is?” I said. “I want to be the thing that the rich and powerful are afraid of, the thing that keeps them in line. Because it doesn’t seem like there is that person right now. That’s my goal. Be as bad as I need to be to keep the people at the top in line.”
“An admirable goal,” Mokoš said. “In a sense. You make yourself judge then?”
“Probably executioner too. But not just me. I’ve been trying to find people I trust, people who can guide me. That’s the other side of things. I’m not just doing this on my own, I’m trying to do this with others. Leofing being among them.”
She was quiet, but I could feel her looking at me. Looking over me. Judging what it was she saw, or looking for something deeper. Hard to tell.
“Your reliance on the undead is problematic,” she finally said. “But not a complete deal-breaker."
"I spoke to Leofing about that. I'm not sure if I really understand things, but he said you don't, I mean—”
"It is a rare thing to ask a god to divest her personal feelings on a topic."
"It's just that it seems like the goddess of life would be diametrically opposed to the undead."
"I can see how one might believe that. But were it not for the god of death, perhaps I might be. However, the god of death is diametrically opposed to the undead, and he and I are foes as back as far as the beginning of time. He longs to rid the world of all life, to blanket it in a total void of life. The undead are stealing from him in a way I could never. And perhaps it is vain of me to think this way, but I believe I recognize an element about the world he neglects. That there can be no life without death. It is part of the cycle. I do not mourn because things die, I mourn when they are never given the chance to live."
