by A. J. Markam
“Good for her,” Alaria said in a deadpan voice.
The gnome turned back to me and laughed. “You’re very presumptuous indeed to lecture me about the proper construction of my trap, seeing as you failed to evade it! Or perhaps in your feeble mind that makes you an expert, seeing as you find yourself now imprisoned within it! I wonder, do you lecture the artist about his paintings when you yourself have never lifted a brush to canvas? Or the master chef about his feast, when you would be hard-pressed to boil water even with fire, pot, and mountain spring at hand!”
This guy was getting increasingly annoying by the second.
“I was just saying – ”
“I designed the trap exactly as I WANTED it!” the gnome screamed, turning on a dime from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde. “I wanted you to experience your complete and total helplessness in the face of my superior intellect – to fully recognize your fate while being unable to alter it in any way! The trap was designed to demonstrate your utter insignificance: a lowly insect caught in an elaborate cage designed by a god!”
Suddenly the gnome was all chuckles and smiles again. “In that, I would say, I have eminently succeeded!”
I just stared down at the pint-sized prick in silence. Then I said in a deadpan voice, “Alaria, you didn’t tell me your former master was so… smart.”
“Yeah,” she answered in the same deadpan tone. “He’s fucking brilliant.”
“Do you think I do not perceive your sarcasm?” The gnome chuckled and waggled his finger at me like I was a naughty dog. “I shall take your impotent attempt at humor as a compliment, seeing as your tiny mind is incapable of producing anything better.”
The gnome turned to Alaria. “As for you, my former succubus, I would say that it’s a surprise to see you – except that it’s not! I heard of your misadventures up north, and wondered when you would darken my door! In fact, you were slower to arrive than I thought you would be.”
“I was waylaid by an angel.” Alaria gave the barest hint of a smile. “Or laid by an angel, I guess you could say.”
The gnome frowned like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Well, whatever the reason, I would say it’s good to see you – and it is, but only under these very specific circumstances! I much prefer you trapped where you are, unable to do me any harm! However, if I keep you trapped here, or I kill you, then I can’t show you the wonders which I have created. There would be no way for you to witness my genius, which would be a tragedy! Thus I propose a deal.”
I cocked one eyebrow. “What kind of a deal?”
“I propose that you abstain from trying to kill me for the next 24 hours, and I will not kill you! In this way I think we can come to a mutually agreeable situation, and in the meantime, you can see the fruits of my prodigious labors!”
“Just 24 hours?”
“Ha – I know well the fury of my former succubus! She would never agree to a perpetual truce, but I think she might be persuaded to forgo her vengeance for one day. Is it true what they say? Did you really free her?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“Most curious! Most curious indeed! And the imp as well?” Orlo asked as he walked around to where Stig was bound by the metal rods. I guess because the room wasn’t a monster or a sentient being – and because he wasn’t being ‘attacked’ so much as trapped – his ability to teleport had never been triggered.
“Yeah, I freed him, too.”
“We shall have to discuss more of this over dinner! That is, if you will swear an oath that you will not attempt to kill me for the next 24 hours.” Orlo gave me a sly little smile. “Although we both know it would be a fruitless endeavor. I am far more powerful than you are, and could snuff out all your lives with little to no effort. Frankly, I’m amazed that you somehow managed to defeat Saykir – but he would have been no match for me, and I doubt you will, either. So what do you say? A cessation of hostilities and the breaking of bread, or shall we just get it over with and have me slaughter you all?”
“I’m okay with dinner,” I replied. “Alaria?”
“He’s up to something. Actually, considering his height, I guess he’s down to something.”
I couldn’t help crack a smile.
“Ha ha, yes yes, make fun of the gnome for his height,” Orlo said sarcastically. “Let’s get them all out of the way now, shall we?”
He began to rattle off Short Jokes with surprising speed and ferocity. Oftentimes he spoke theatrically, as though someone were addressing the questions towards him.
“If you invite all of your gnome friends to a party, isn’t it really just a ‘little get-together’?
“Do you consider yourself oppressed, since you’re always getting overlooked?
“I’d like to loan you five gold, but I’m a little short.
“After a hard, sweaty day at work, you must enjoy a nice, hot sink.
“What?! Someone pick-pocketed you?! I don’t know how anyone could stoop so low!
“I’ll bet you have a hard time raising a family, because you struggle to put food on the table.
“Why do you always laugh when you run through the grass? Is it because it tickles your balls?
“I bet when people meet you they say you’re a really down-to-earth guy.
“What do you call a poor gnome? Short-changed.
“Why shouldn’t you hire gnomes as chefs? Because the steaks are too high!
“Appreciate the little things in life – give a gnome a hug!
“Say what you want about gnomes, but at least they don’t look down on people!
“Why do gnomes get mad so easily? Because they have short tempers!
“You have to hand it to gnomes – because they can’t reach it for themselves!
“What do a dwarf and a gnome have in common? Very little.
“I met this really short gnome baker called Peter the other day. He was telling me all about baking flatbreads. It was fascinating – I love the Pita patter of little Pete!
“Never try to get into an exclusive gnome club – not unless you’re on the shortlist!
“What you call a gnome who’s never on time? Too little, too late!
“I bumped into an old gnome friend of mine yesterday – small world.
“Make the little things in life count – teach math to gnomes!
“The key to writing gnome jokes is keeping them short.”
He whirled around to face me and snapped, “Any others you’d like to add?”
I had to admit, he actually made me chuckle with a couple of those.
“No, I’m good,” I said.
“So I have your word? And your imp’s?”
“You have mine. I’m pretty sure you can buy Stig’s for a bottle of wine.”
“Yup,” Stig said behind me.
“Finally, someone with some sense!” Orlo exclaimed. “Well, my little demonic friend, you can have all the alcohol you wish!”
“Deal!” Stig said happily.
“You might want to be careful about that,” I warned Orlo. “Unless you have a LOT of alcohol.”
“Well, my former succubus?” Orlo asked. “You’re the only holdout!”
“You forgot a joke,” Alaria said.
“Oh?”
“Why are gnomes such popular lovers? Because everybody likes a little sex.” She paused, then smirked. “Emphasis on the ‘little’ part… and littler ‘parts.’”
“Very funny indeed,” Orlo said mirthlessly. “Now swear by the Seven Hells that you won’t attempt to kill me over the next 24 hours and I’ll let you go.”
Alaria grumbled but finally relented. “I swear.”
“Noooo, I need to hear the whole thing!”
Alaria muttered some obscenities under her breath, then recited, “I swear by the Seven Hells that I shall not try to kill you within the next 24 hours.”
“Excellent! To celebrate, we shall have a feast befitting – ”
“Someone of your stature?” Alaria interrupted. “In that
case, it’s going to be a short meal.”
The gnome glared at her.
Alaria smiled sweetly. “You didn’t say anything about not making fun of you for the next 24 hours.”
“Fine!” Orlo grimaced. “I can take a joke! Ha! Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA – ”
The gnome’s forced laughter began to rise in pitch and take on a demented tone, until he was spluttering bits of saliva everywhere.
“ – HA HA HA HA – ”
He abruptly stopped laughing.
“SYSTEM RESET!” he screamed.
In a split second, all the silver rods slid back into their housings.
I stumbled forward, suddenly freed – but there was nothing holding Alaria up any longer.
She fell ten feet to the floor with a THUD. I could see the pain in her face as she slammed down onto all fours.
“HA!” Orlo yelled right in her face, with an expression so spiteful and hate-filled that it was scary.
Then his mood swung on a bipolar dime again, and he plastered an enormous grin across his face. “Well, time for dinner!”
He strolled out of the room, whistling a tune as he went.
A little tune, I guess you could say.
His succubus gave me a brief, fearful look, then hurried after her master.
“Are you okay?” I asked Alaria. I could see from her hit points that she’d lost a good five percent in the fall, so I replenished her with Self-Sacrifice.
“I’m fine,” she growled as she watched Orlo disappear around a corner. “I’m just sorry I can’t kill the little bastard for 24 hours.”
“Yeah, that whole thing kind of took me by surprise,” I admitted. “Why didn’t he just kill us outright? Or imprison us?”
“Because he’s got some kind of plan, I just know it.”
“Well, unfortunately, he was right – there’s no way we can kill him just by ourselves. We might as well have a good meal and scout out the place in the meantime.”
“Fine,” Alaria growled. “Just keep your eyes open and your guard up.”
“Does he have any weaknesses?”
“Yes – he thinks he’s a lot smarter than he is.” Alaria paused. “Unfortunately, he’s pretty much the smartest person I know, so maybe it’s not much of a weakness.”
“Great,” I muttered as we hurried through the cave to catch up with Orlo and his succubus.
9
The four of us – me, Alaria, Stig, and Orlo – sat around a giant table in a vast underground hall. Orlo sat at the head of the table in a chair specially designed to conceal the fact that he was only a foot and a half tall – or at least distract the viewer with its grandeur. It looked like a miniature ziggurat, with stone steps leading up to its plush cushion.
I saw Alaria about to make a comment about it, so I flashed her a warning look. She rolled her eyes but kept her comment to herself.
The table was set with half a dozen platters filled with all sorts of roasted game birds and vegetables. Everything was attended to by a bunch of creepy serpents – figures of various shapes and sizes wearing black robes and black gloves, with round, mirror-like masks peering out from black cowls. The servants moved about silently, never saying anything, just wordlessly taking care of our every need.
And Stig had quite a few. Needs, that is. He polished off the first bottle of wine not five minutes into the meal. Orlo watched in amazement as he started in on the second.
“You weren’t jesting when you said your imp has a prodigious tolerance for alcohol!”
“He hasn’t even gotten started. Stig – slow it down, man.”
“Aw, come on, boss,” he pouted.
“Make that bottle last until the end of dessert, okay?”
Stig grumbled, but he stopped gulping and started sipping.
Soraiya was there, too, but her presence was largely ornamental. She just stood behind Orlo the entire time, one hand draped lazily across the top of his stone chair, and looked at us with an inscrutable expression.
Bored?
Weary?
Or just poker-faced?
“So,” Orlo said, “I believe we can come to an understanding wherein you no longer wish to kill me.”
“I highly doubt that,” Alaria said.
“But I’ve completely ceased my warlock activities!”
Alaria looked over at me. “Why is it that all my ex-masters say they’ve gotten out of warlocking?”
The statement was true, though it varied as to whether they’d actually stopped. Jastoth had become a corrupt priest. Odeon said he’d stopped, although he still kept in close contact with a demonic overlord. Saykir claimed he had stopped, too, although he very quickly reverted to summoning the Old Ones when it suited him. Out of Alaria’s previous four masters, only Tarka had made no bones about still being a warlock. After all, the demon pirate crew of the Revenge had been her slaves before we defeated her.
“And why,” Alaria continued, “do they all think that getting out of warlocking means I won’t kill them?”
“But I’m no longer the gnome you once knew!” Orlo protested. “I’ve completely changed!”
“I don’t want to kill you for the gnome you are now,” Alaria said sweetly. “I want to kill you for the gnome you were then.”
“I was never that bad to you,” Orlo said dismissively.
“Never that bad?! Never that bad?! What about all those times you summoned me to your room late at night and forced me to – ”
“A foot massage is not a crime!” Orlo yelled.
“When it’s your stench-ridden feet, it is. But I was thinking about what happened afterwards.”
“You’re a sex demoness!” Orlo roared. “You’re supposed to like sex!”
“Let’s ask your current succubus,” Alaria said icily, and looked up at the woman standing behind Orlo’s chair. “Do you like the sexual advances of your master?”
The plum-colored succubus shifted from a blank look to a smile and a giggle. “Everything that Master has me do to him – and everything he does to me – is wonderful.”
“You see?!” Orlo cried out triumphantly.
“Take off her collar and let’s see what she says,” Alaria spat.
“Which brings us to the next topic of conversation,” Orlo said, and turned to me. “Why in Astok’s name would you free your demons?”
“I got imprisoned for a while and saw what it was like. After that I couldn’t do it anymore. Keep slaves, I mean.”
“That’s right!” Orlo said, as though he had remembered some fascinating detail. “You’re the Emancipator of Abaddon! The Liberator of demons everywhere! How stirring! How noble! How idealistic!”
“Well,” I said modestly, “it was because I – ”
“How STUPID!” Orlo yelled. “You think I care that you set all the demons in Abaddon free? I don’t, other than the fact that it proves to me your mental incapacity! You know that you’re the laughingstock of all warlock-dom, don’t you? We all think you’re an idiot – a moron – a fool!”
I sat there fuming. I wanted to kill the little bastard, but I’d made a promise not to.
Well… that, and the fact that there was no way I could kill him now, anyway.
Alaria stepped in. “Ian has my love and eternal gratitude for everything he’s done,” she said, then added like she knew Orlo was about to protest, “I know, I know… small consolation.”
I allowed myself to snicker.
Orlo squinted malevolently at Alaria, then forced himself to smile. “Very good, succubus. Very good. But I think I can show you something that will prove you would be unwise to kill me. I have something tremendous to offer the world. If you end my life now, my great work will remain undone – and others will suffer immeasurably because of it, in the same way you yourself claim to have suffered at my hands. In fact, that’s why I sent all my demons back to Limbo – because what I’m working on now is nothing less than the future of our world!”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Alar
ia said in a bored voice. “What’s your… little secret?”
Orlo gritted his teeth, then chuckled darkly. “Better to show you than to explain it. The impact is far greater, I find.”
He waddled down the ziggurat-like steps of his chair and gestured with his hand. “Follow me, my illustrious guests,” he said sarcastically, “and I will show you wonders beyond anything you have ever seen before!”
Stig looked in disappointment at his half-finished wine bottle.
“Bring it along with you, my similarly statured friend!” Orlo said. “I wish no one to miss out on their pleasures of choice this evening!”
The gnome giggled obscenely, then started down a side tunnel that branched off from the main hall. Soraiya followed behind him, her hips sashaying seductively.
I looked over at Alaria. “What do you think?”
“I think this is part of his next move, whatever that is. But if we don’t play the game, then we’ll never find out how to beat him.”
I got up from my chair. “Might as well go play the game, then.”
10
We followed Orlo through the twisting tunnels of his underground compound. We passed several laboratories and workshops, each one filled with an assortment of mechanical and scientific equipment: generators with arcs of electricity crackling between them, several prototypes of what looked like Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings of helicopters, and the early stages of what I assumed were robotic limbs. In OtherWorld, gnomes were tinkerers, known for their abilities as engineers and mechanics. In addition to being a Warlock, Orlo apparently indulged in the more stereotypical pastimes of his race.
We also walked by another dozen of his creepy servants with their black robes and mirrored masks.
“What are these guys?” I asked as we passed another silent figure carrying a box of gears. “Are they some sort of race I’m not familiar with?”
“My servants? No, they’re robots!”
“…robots?!”
OtherWorld was a fantasy game, although it obviously had elements of steampunk in it. For instance, Krug’s flying pirate ship. But as far as honest-to-God robots, this was the first time I had ever heard them referenced inside the game.
