Dream

by RW Krpoun

  “Definitely.”

  “Good. Why yesterday?”

  They paused while the serving girl set out fried fish, cheese, and rye bread.

  “Because we completed an undertaking,” Derek observed after she was gone. “The side quest wasn’t done until we got paid.”

  They thought about that. “Makes sense,” Shad said. “Much as anything does. OK, we’re got a little more edge than we did yesterday. More skills, more knowledge, more money. We’ll go as a group, get rations and group equipment, then split up and buy individual gear and rally at the rock. When you’re ready to leave, head to the whipping block near the gate; if none of us is there, hang around and count to fifty, then head out. If one of us is there, walk away and count to two hundred before you return. That way there’s a safe interval between us.”

  Shad was the first to the meeting point; it stopped raining as he left the road and trudged to a handy log, the hem of his new rain cloak swishing against the top of the tall grass. When he was sure the rain had stopped he removed the cloak and hung it from a branch to dry. He had purchased a hat that was much like a flat-topped Stetson made of some light leather that looked like snakeskin and shed water like rubber.

  Choosing materials, he laid out his tool rolls on his pack and began work on a charm. A half hour later Derek came down the road, a rain cape hanging from his pack to dry. He had Shad’s short sword and buckler on his belt, and a bow case and quiver were slung next to his pack. A pendant around his neck caught the weak light as he left the road to join the Jinxman.

  “I like the hat. Got your long sword, I see,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Plus a round shield, and I’ve got a leather shirt strapped to my pack, I’ll put it on when we’re past Havenhall. And tactical gloves, some extra clothes, and some knives. The big improvement was this belt,” he gestured to the wide, three-buckle belt he wore. “Lots of little pouches for charms, with raised designs so you can find them by touch. What’s with the jewelry? I hope you didn’t go pagan on us.”

  “Nah, it’s a good-luck charm. I figure that outlanders would be less likely to wear that sort of thing, so I got it. Camouflage.”

  “Good thinking. You tried the bow?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty good,” Derek grinned proudly. “I got some clothes, but I couldn’t find a hat I liked, so I just got a cloth cap to wear when the sun is hot. Looks like those golf hats.”

  “Well, with a bow and spells you’re a major fire support unit.”

  “You know, while I was walking here I realized we’ve been digging for information but we never bothered to check out the dossiers,” Derek tapped his pack. “You told me to hang on to them.”

  “I completely forgot about them. Go ahead and read the Master’s and you can brief us when the others get here. You have much money left?”

  “Not a lot-the bow was expensive; thankfully your deal on the sword and buckler made my share stretch a lot further. How about you?”

  “A little. The sword was my biggest hit, but I got a better deal from you than I would have for the smith for my old one.”

  Fred was the next to appear. He had a rain cape strapped to his pack, wore tactical gloves, and had a bandolier of throwing axes across his chest. “Got some more rings attached to my armor,” he shrugged. “Gotta save up for metal armor.”

  “When did you get throwing axe skill?” Derek asked.

  “Had it from the start, just no axes.”

  Jeff showed up over an hour later wearing a hat similar to Shad’s and leading a small solemn-faced donkey wearing a pack saddle.

  “Where the hell did you get a donkey?” Shad demanded. “Those aren’t cheap. Tell me you didn’t steal it.”

  “He always goes overboard when he plays a thief,” Derek shook his head.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” The Night-grifter grinned. “But I acquired it honestly, more or less.”

  “More or less?” Shad scratched his ear with a file.

  “Gambling. They play a game here similar to the ball-and-cup. Same principle as three-card Monte,” he clarified to Derek.

  “Palm Object,” Fred grinned.

  “Exactly. I never thought of it in-game, but it worked like a charm. I was shopping for hats, and these rustics invited me to play. When they learned I hadn’t heard of the game they were eager to help me learn.”

  “Hustled them clean, did you?” Shad returned to his charm.

  “No, when all was said and done I spent most of their cash on the pick from a string of donkeys they had just acquired. Auctioned off by the military as excess. Got the receipt and everything.” He patted his pouch. “My contribution to the party.”

  “Awfully generous of you,” Shad said.

  “Well, I won my hat off the stall-owner and came out a few shillings ahead overall.”

  Shad wasn’t really surprised-Jeff was always cunning about money. “What did you buy?”

  “Tactical gloves, extra clothes, a rain cape, some odds and ends. Better armor will have to wait until I’m wealthier.”

  “Can you wear metal?”

  “Coat of plates, so long as the plates are completely covered. Which really jacks up the price.”

  Shad summarized his and Derek’s purchases. “So why did you want a donkey?”

  “Her name is Ula, she’s a jenny. Why? Donkeys are very calm, much less prone to spooking than horses, they’re hardier, their hooves are much less delicate, and they are very social animals. They make good watchdogs, hate snakes, and can fight off coyotes, even face down mountain lions.”

  “Yeah, I knew the last part.” Shad watched Derek feed Ula a piece of hardtack. “But that still doesn’t explain why you wanted her.”

  “She can carry a hundred pounds all day without a problem at our rate of march. I got a pan and a small keg in case of dry country. She can graze in anything short of a desert. I admit that she’s not as good as a mule, but she’s not likely to inspire greed the way a mule would.”

  “Makes us look like a more established group,” Derek observed. “Less like newly-arrived outlanders.”

  “A hundred pounds?”

  “Yeah. I figure we load the group gear and some rations on her, lighten our loads.”

  “Good idea,” Shad conceded. “While she gets loaded Derek’s going to brief us on the dossier on the Ultimate Master. I completely forgot about the dossiers Yorrian gave us.”

  “What dossiers?” Jeff asked.

  Chapter Five

  “So basically this nimrod came through as an uber-level monk/assassin, carved his way through the old ruler and his inner circle at a feast, and proclaimed himself boss of the City-State?” Jeff shook his head. “How does he stay alive?”

  “The Five literally don’t play by the rules,” Derek held up the dossier. “The guy took eight ranks in Detect Plot.”

  “That’s a skill?” Fred raised his eyebrows.

  “No. That’s the point.”

  “OK.” The four were trudging down the Twilight Way, Ula trotting along quietly in their wake.

  “But he’s vulnerable to others who came through?” Shad asked. “How does that work? We’re bound by the local rules.”

  “Only with locals,” Derek carefully stowed the dossier with the others. “Against the Ultimate Master we are our real selves, and so is he. According to this he’s an unemployed retail clerk and dedicated player of a game I never heard of, probably homebrew, and seriously into LARPing. From the drawing he’s a red-headed geek in weird-looking leather armor.”

  “Which begs the question: how did an unemployed retail clerk get here?”

  “The brains of the outfit was an old guy who worked out the entire breaching concept, he was an academic of some sort. He gathered the others as volunteers for an experiment, but apparently they turned on him during the transition process and went rogue after they got here. He’s dead, by the way. So are two of his seven volunteers.”

  “I’m still wanting to table the w
hole ‘kill our way back home’ concept for now,” Shad said. “The Ultimate Master sounds like a complete bastard, but that’s not got me motivated to commit murder yet, although his Wraiths are a strong point in that direction. I suggest we strike him from the list of those we approach for help getting home.”

  “Seems wise,” Jeff observed.

  “The basic situation is unchanged,” Derek pointed out. “The Ultimate Master has local bodyguards, so we need to level up to get to him, assuming we want to get to him. At this point the core quest remains to gather information and power. Its sidebars for us.”

  “It’s a week’s walk for us,” Fred grunted.

  “What the blazes is that?” Jeff pointed to what looked like a one-armed scarecrow some distance from the road.

  Fred glanced at it. “Goblin totem.”

  “Totem for what?”

  “Like tagging. Proclaiming themselves. Or a victory, although it’s pretty far off the road.”

  “Great.”

  The four were on their third day of following the Twilight Way, and since breaking camp they had been crossing the Moonbreaker Moors, so named for the tribe of wolf-riding Goblins who claimed the area. The trip had been pretty uneventful, although the chances for a violent encounter had kept it from being boring. The Talons had amused themselves with mentioning certain songs to Derek, as the Shadowmancer had a problem with music he hated getting ‘stuck’ in his head.

  “Why did they pick this place to put a road?” Derek asked.

  “It’s flat. The hills to either side are at least as bad in terms of risk, probably worse. No central government means that there are lots of problems everywhere. If I were the Ultimate Master, I would have everything for a hundred miles under my control by the end of the second month,” Shad adjusted his hat. “What a wanker.”

  “Gingers have no souls,” Fred observed sagely. “They are prone towards evil by their very nature.”

  As the shadows lengthened the four could see the hills closing in to mark the end of the Moors, and the dark line of a good-sized forest ahead.

  “Looks like a little village up ahead, east of the road near the hills,” Fred pointed to several smoke trails rising into the sky.

  “It’s not on our map,” Derek observed. “Too small for an inn, but maybe we could rent a hayloft.”

  “I wouldn’t mind taking a day to rest and craft charms,” Shad nodded. “I’ve managed four since we left the City-State.”

  “How is the charm inventory?” Jeff asked.

  “Not much better than we started. We burn four a week keeping fleas and lice at bay. I’ve only taken one full day to work on them since we got here.”

  “Well, we’re not in any hurry. Now that we’re out of the City-State we’re free agents,” Jeff observed. “Whatever trail the Wraiths had to work with certainly went cold when we slipped out of the Ultimate Master’s piss-ant domain.”

  An hour later the village came into sight, consisting of a dozen simple houses and as many outbuildings surrounded by a stout log palisade. Tilled acreage surrounded the village and the carved letters on a weathered sign by the road read ‘Wyrm-wagon repairs’.

  The four turned down the ruts leading to the palisade gate, which faced the road. A small group of men dressed as farmers awaited them, tools and wood axes held as inconspicuously as possible.

  “Looks like a certain amount of healthy suspicion,” Jeff observed.

  “You do the talking,” Shad said, shifting his scabbarded sword a bit forward.

  “Good evening, sirs,” Jeff called as they drew close. “We are poor but honest bravos looking for a dry bed and a hot meal, which we will pay for in hard coin.”

  An older man with the build and blackened leather apron of a smith came forward to meet them, hope blazing in his eyes. “We never dared…I am Berriman, smith and speaker for Wyrm. We are very glad to see four men such as yourself.”

  “Crap. They need help,” Fred muttered.

  “Awkward,” Derek muttered back.

  “Do you have need of bravos?” Jeff asked, ignoring the muttering behind him.

  “Two maidens, the pride of our little village, were taken by Goblins from our fields just this morning. We expect they will be sacrificed at the apex of the full moon, as is the little bastard’s custom. We need men such as you to rescue them; we are poor, but would reward you to our best ability.” Berriman spoke in a rush, with hope and growing doubt warring on his face.

  “We can’t face wolf riders, much as we would like to help,” Shad stepped forward. “We are not the greatest of warriors, I’m afraid.”

  “They were not taken by wolf riders-we tracked the party to an entrance to old ruins, freshly opened. No doubt they plan to bond their new home with maiden blood.” Behind the smith a man choked back a sob.

  “Underground?” At the man’s nod Shad held up a finger and turned to the others. “A crawl isn’t as bad as wolf-riders on the moors, but it’s not going to be easy.”

  “We kicked butt on seven goblins,” Derek pointed out. “Think about it, a real dungeon crawl!”

  “And a handful of skeletons did a pretty good job on us,” Shad countered. “OK, one ‘for’, what do you guys say?”

  “It was just the chieftain who was kicking butt,” Jeff pointed out. “We’re a level higher, and you and Derek are a lot better armed. I’m in.”

  “In,” Fred growled.

  “OK” Shad wasn’t surprised. “I’m not inclined to leave two girls behind without even trying.” Turning back to the smith, he doffed his hat. “We are at your service. You say they’ll be sacrificed in two days’ time?”

  “The night following tomorrow night,” The smith clenched handfuls of leather apron. “Thank you, sir…”

  “Thank us when the girls are back,” Shad cut him off, ever the master of tact and people skills. “Will they be harmed or molested before the ceremony?”

  “What? Oh…no, the Goblins need maidens pure and unharmed.” He gestured towards a graybeard who was wearing rough leathers and cradling a longbow. “Cribb knows the Goblin ways well, having hunted and scouted in the hills all his life.”

  “All right. We’ll need to rest and prepare tomorrow, and mount the rescue the day after.”

  Disappointment clouded Berriman’s grimy features. “Ah…we had hoped…the girls will be deeply fearful…”

  “We have been marching for days,” Shad said firmly. “We are weary, and there are preparations we must make before attempting an underground rescue. Better to prepare and succeed than rush in hastily and fail. We will only have a single chance at this undertaking.”

  Cribb looked as if he agreed, but the rest of the men were clearly disappointed.

  “Should we wait?” Derek whispered.

  “You want to start a fight tonight?” Shad asked. “I’m feeling the twenty-five miles I just walked with a pack after about five hours’ sleep. If we wait until at least tomorrow night we’ll be rested and I’ll have more charms.”

  “Plus we can take a good look at what we’re getting into,” Jeff agreed. “This isn’t something to rush into. The Goblins are probably expecting a rescue attempt.”

  “OK.”

  It was almost evening when the three returned from their patrol with Cribb, Derek conspicuously filthy. Shad waved them over to the table he had borrowed from Barriman, which he had dragged in front of the barn which was serving as their quarters. The other three had hardly sat down when one of the village women hurried over with a brimming pitcher and filled their mugs.

  “They brew decent ale here, I have to say,” Jeff wiped his mouth. “Pretty good cooks, too. The consumption of meat by the peasants is a lot higher here than historical.”

  “No fully developed feudal hierarchy,” Derek observed. “Not much in the way of taxes. On Earth a village out on its own would have gotten snapped up, but here the local Goblins aren’t able to storm this place without losing more warriors than its worth. In fact, I expect they do far be
tter stealing pigs and sheep, and so have a sort of vested interest in leaving it alone.”

  “The non-humans do not seem terribly organized,” Jeff agreed. “They don’t seem to operate beyond the local tribe or the warband level. No vast armies, no semblance of a state. This entire world is a violation of the basic rules of political science.”

  “How goes the pursuit of your lucky charms?” Fred asked.

  “Funny. Four so far,” Shad kept working. “I hope to get two more before bed. We’re still not up for really heavy use, but we’re getting better. One more full day would let me start on my throwing knives.”

  “You put charms on knives?” Fred cocked an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, lets me throw it as hard and accurately, much more so than you can actually throw a knife. What did you find out?”

  “We found the opening the Goblins used,” Jeff scratched his cheek. “It’s about five miles away. Cribb’s a very good tracker, by the way, looks like he’s picked up around four levels in Ranger over the years.”

  “I noticed most of the men here have at least one level in Fighter,” Derek observed. “That and the palisade is why Wyrm still exists.”

  “Anyway,” Jeff shot a glance at Derek. “It’s a recent opening into old ruins as per their information. A fatal funnel if I ever saw one.”

  “So how do we get in?”

  “That’s why we were out all day: looking for air shafts. A documentary on mining Derek saw and Cribb’s skills paid off. Unless there’s two complexes extremely close together, there’s a back way in.”

  “Can we get down an air shaft? Wouldn’t there be defenses?”

  “Derek went down three quarters of the way with no problem. There were at least three grates securing the thing, but all have rusted into nothing. Might be a guard or two at the bottom, but definitely fewer than at the obvious entrance.”

  “True. We got enough rope?”

  “Plenty-I always get lots of rope, you know that.”

  “OK. By killing a candle once it gets dark I can get two more charms and a full night’s sleep. We’ll head out at dawn. Bring empty packs and whatever you think we’ll need. One meal of dried rations apiece, and two canteens between all of us. Derek, do you have mapping supplies?”