by Thad Ward
Fu gave a slight bow as he retrieved the coin. “More than enough. Let me get you your change.”
Ike sniffed the air. The smell was faint but unmistakable. “No need for change. You aren’t still serving food, are you?”
“I have some leftovers from earlier,” Fu said, nodding. “I promised Maisy I wouldn’t serve concessions, but I don’t think she’ll object if it’s the two of you.”
“We’ll make sure to see her for dessert,” Ada said. “Thanks a bunch, Fu.” She and Ike retrieved their plates and drinks and returned to the tavern’s common room.
The Weir Crest had more people than Ike had seen so far. Admittedly, that wasn’t a high bar; he hadn’t seen more than six or seven people in the place at one time. Now that he wasn’t focused on saving Ada, he realized it was starting to fill up, with maybe two dozen people in total and more coming in behind them.
Ada led Ike to a table right by the stage and they dug into their food. Ike immediately put Fu’s concerns about selling food out of his mind. Since Ike had met Maisy, he hadn’t known her to be the attentive type, which was doubly true tonight. She had half a dozen dishes in various states of preparation while Angus busily waited tables. Ike was impressed with the large man’s speed and efficiency. It was clear that sobriety suited him, even if Ada’s methods of getting him that way were somewhat questionable.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Ike said, crunching into a cold wonton, “I’d say this was a proper establishment.”
“I know, right?” Ada said, spearing a bite of General Tso’s chicken. “The show’s starting in another 20 or 30 minutes, though. Dusty said she had to pack the house to complete the quest.”
“Front row seats, as promised,” Dusty said, sauntering up to the table. “We’re already about halfway there, and it’s barely dusk. I really can’t thank the two of you enough.”
“Aww, you’re welcome,” Ada said, lightly touching Dusty’s arm. She smiled and bounced in her seat excitedly. “I can’t wait to see the show!”
“Glad to hear it, hon,” Dusty said. She leaned down and raised an eyebrow, adding, “Maybe next time don’t take ‘dying to see it’ so literally, hm?” Her pearly white teeth flashed as she let out a cackle, walking away to mingle with the other patrons.
More patrons drifted in as Ike and Ada finished eating. The two of them sipped their port and tried to keep a headcount, speculating how many would be needed. Eventually, the growing din of the crowd forced them to lean in close to hear one another. Ike didn’t care for the noise itself, but the proximity to Ada was a pleasant consequence.
As the newcomers became a trickle, Ike spotted Dusty by the entrance. She surveyed the crowd with a slight frown and opened the front door. In streaked the lyrebird, landing lightly on a chair positioned center stage. Dusty waved a hand at the stage and a column of light encompassed the bird.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming!” the bird piped out loud enough to be heard comfortably over the chatter. Its voice reminded Ike of a news commentator observing a parade. “Welcome one and all to the Weir Crest Inn and Tavern! Please give a round of applause to your hosts, Maisy and Angus!”
The magical spotlight moved over to the bar, illuminating Maisy, who blushed a beet red and very nearly dropped a platter of potato fritters. The crowd raised their glasses and clapped, adding in a chorus of good-natured chuckles at Maisy’s embarrassment.
“Isn’t she lovely?” the bird continued. “Any man would be lucky to have such a fine cook, right Angus? But don’t stop there folks. After all, every dish needs something to wash it down, so give it up for Fu Chur and his amazing drinks!”
The spotlight shifted again, landing on the front door. Dusty was holding it open for Fu, who seemed equally as surprised at the sudden attention, if not as embarrassed. He grinned, spread his arms, and gave the crowd a deep bow. The crowd burst into deep-throated cheers and mugs went up in salute across the common room. Ada and Ike joined in with the impromptu toast.
“We’re just about ready to begin the show, ladies and gentlemen,” the bird said, “but we have one last person to recognize. We have food. We have drinks. But every party needs an organizer, and we have someone who brought the whole thing together.”
“Oh no,” Ike said, his eyes going wide. He looked toward Dusty and shook his head vigorously. He could see the drag queen’s grin from the other side of the room.
“The man with the plan,” the bird said. “He supplied the promotion and the sound system! He fixed the old place up like new! The hero who charged the goblin ranks and stuck it to the grim reaper! Weir’s rising star! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up to the enchanting enchanter himself, Isaac Fennell!”
Ike cringed as the spotlight landed on him. He opened his eyes and raised his glass awkwardly. Several strangers sitting near him slapped him on the back while applause and praise rained down around him. Ike couldn’t remember being more uncomfortable in his life. He was contemplating escape routes when Ada put a hand on his and smiled. Somehow, the thought that she was proud of him made the rest of it feel a little less embarrassing. All the same, he was relieved when the spotlight disappeared.
The sudden absence of the spotlight made the room seem that much darker. The crowd’s cheering quickly waned. Then Ike could hear a single chord of music come from the stage. As it floated through the air, it silenced everyone present. The bird chimed again, its tone softer. “Without further ado, please enjoy our opening act. She’s a new girl in town with a love of song that soothes the soul. The Weir Crest is pleased to bring you Milly Muse.”
The spotlight reappeared over the stage, fading in gently to illuminate a young woman sitting in the chair with the bird now on her shoulder. She was mostly obscured by a pale green cloak, her face shadowed by her hood, though Ike was able to make out long, straight black hair and circular glasses. She kept her chin low, her shoulders forward, and her feet drawn up, seeming to shrink in the light. Her hands clasped a small, lute-like instrument almost protectively. From his front-row seat, Ike could see that her hands were shaking.
The crowd was quiet. The woman reached for the ten strings of her instrument several times, flinching back each time. Ike could hear a quiet, frustrated sob from beneath the hood.
“Hey,” Ada said softly. “It’s okay.” Completely ignoring the crowd, she rose from her chair and gave the girl a gentle hug. “We’d all love to hear your song.”
“Give her some encouragement, everybody!” Dusty’s voice came from the far side of the tavern. She started clapping and the crowd joined in, cheering their reassurance. Ike was impressed at the response; gamers weren’t always the kindest people to one another, but the ones in the tavern that night seemed genuinely decent in the face of Milly’s shyness. Ike smiled and clapped along with them.
Milly wiped a tear away and whispered her thanks to Ada, who returned to her seat. The crowd fell silent again. This time, when Milly’s hand went to the strings, they strummed a pleasing note that flowed into a song. Her hands began to move with the sort of grace one only sees when true skill is refined through long practice.
Ike sat back in his chair and listened attentively. Before long, he found himself closing his eyes and bobbing his head to the rhythm. He took a deep breath and felt like he was laying in his hammock back home, enjoying the pleasant breeze and the view of white clouds drifting lazily through the afternoon sky. He sipped his port and let that feeling of ease wash over him. He smiled as the tension melted out of his body. It was the first time Ike could remember being at peace since waking up in True Calling.
The final chord of Milly’s song faded in the air and Ike, along with most of the other listeners, opened his eyes as if waking from a pleasant dream. There was a brief silence as Milly rose and gave the crowd a stiff bow. Ike immediately stood and clapped, not needing to verify that everyone behind him was doing the same. They all watched Milly make her way through the tavern, nodding and muttering her thanks as people offere
d their praise, all the while keeping her head low and her eyes down. Dusty hugged her and whispered in her ear before Milly took a seat alone in the back corner.
The songbird had hopped from Milly’s shoulder back to the chair when she’d risen. “A lovely performance, wasn’t it, folks?” it said. “I haven’t felt this relaxed since they let me stop advertising this show.”
A chorus of groans mixed with laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Don’t worry, though,” the bird continued. “I’ll be right back out there again tomorrow if our next act gets anything less than thunderous applause.”
Ike glanced around the room and laughed as he saw eyes widening and hands coming together. It seemed the bird’s advertising was not well-loved.
“Glad to see you’re all motivated to get me the day off,” the bird said. “Now, our next act needs no introduction. You know, since I’ve been doing it nonstop all day.” It emitted two drum beats and a cymbal sound, eliciting more laughter. “She’s a twentieth-level glamazon with a vorpal tongue and she’s ready to camp this dungeon! You know her! You love her! Put your hands together for the Queen of Weir herself, Dusty Knees!”
On cue, mist burst out from the stage accompanied by beams of light in a dazzling rainbow of colors. At the same time, 1980’s techno beats followed by electric piano noises poured from the songbird. Ike rocked backward in his seat and blinked his eyes against the sudden intensity of the show.
A dark silhouette appeared amid the mist and lasers. The voices of female backup singers rose to a crescendo in the unmistakable introduction to Bonnie Taylor’s “I Need a Hero” as Dusty Knees strode into the spotlight and began to sing.
It took Ike no time to realize that Dusty was lip-syncing. He didn’t doubt the drag queen must have a fine singing voice, but the one he heard wasn’t hers by any stretch of the imagination. Regardless, he couldn’t help but marvel at the display. Dusty had managed to string a light spell from her class, a glorified sound maker, and some homemade pyrotechnics – no doubt Ada’s doing – into a well-choreographed concert. It was impossible not to be impressed, even if Dusty’s choice of music was a bit archaic.
Dusty strode forward and continued singing. As she did, she flashed a single leg out of the thigh-high slit in the side of her dress. The sequins, now blue and purple, seemed to shimmer as the fabric rippled, and a brilliant wreath of black and purple feathers around Dusty’s neck bobbed along with her motion.
Dusty held her arms out and leaned her head back as she sang about the whereabouts of her white knight, giving the impression of full-throated singing. Ike heard a few people whooping as the crowd got into the spectacle.
It was at this moment that Ike realized Dusty was directly in front of him, at the very edge of the stage barely a step or two away. He got a sinking feeling just as Dusty smiled down at him. He was about to learn that drag shows were not a spectator sport.
Dusty sang the song’s eponymous line, stepped off the stage, grabbed one side of Ike’s chair, and spun him around to face the rest of the crowd. He didn’t have time to marvel at how effortlessly she did it. The spotlight illuminated both of them as Dusty’s hand came across Ike’s chest, tracing a finger along his collar bone.
Ike froze. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered feeling embarrassed to be in the spotlight earlier. That seemed trivial, even laughable, by comparison. Ike glanced to his right and saw Ada giggling with unbridled glee, her hand to her mouth, and her cheeks flushed a vibrant red. Many of the other patrons were doing the same.
Dusty danced around Ike as she continued singing. She took him by the hand and pulled him out of his seat just as she proclaimed her hero’s size requirements. She gave a confused look and made a show of measuring how much shorter he was with her hand, then gently pushed him back into his seat with a vaguely disappointed expression and moved on to the next customer. The entire crowd burst into hysterical fits of laughter.
Ike couldn’t help it. He laughed, too. The whole thing was just too absurd for words. He righted his chair and watched as Dusty continued the show, weaving around the crowd and performing two or three other such comedy routines. Ada scooted her chair over to Ike and draped her arm around his shoulder, laughing so hard she was tearing up.
The room was mostly full, and Ike could see a handful of newcomers trickling in as the song continued. He started to get anxious. However comical or gaudy it seemed, this wasn’t a show for Dusty; it was a boss battle. She was lip-syncing for her life. If this didn’t complete the quest, Ike wasn’t sure what would.
The song reached its crescendo. Dusty had the crowd in the palm of her hand, their eyes fixed on her every move. Then the door opened one more time just as the song finished. Dusty’s eyes widened with sudden excitement as a rain of sparks erupted from the ground around her.
The crowd rose to give Dusty a standing ovation, with several people shouting, “Ding!” and “Congrats!” While Ike hadn’t seen any visual effects when someone had leveled before, there was no mistaking the telltale animation. He wondered if Dusty had used a spell to produce the effect or if it was just a side effect of being a glamourist.
“Goblins!” Ike heard as the crowd began to calm down. “Goblins are headed this way!”
“Clay!?” Ada rose from her chair and rushed across the room. Ike followed her. They found Clay collapsed by the door. He’d been the last one to enter.
Clay was on all fours, heaving in breaths like he’d been running a marathon. He looked up at Ike and seemed visibly relieved to see Ada. “They’re coming,” he said. “The goblins from the grotto...”
A notification appeared in Ike’s vision.
The town of Weir is under attack. All rest areas within a ten-kilometer radius have been deactivated until the battle is concluded.
Ike gave Ada a concerned look. “Did you get that, too?”
Ada nodded soberly and glanced around. The room had gone deadly quiet. “I think… everyone did.”
Chapter 25
Organizing the raid
I ke could hear the room break out into hushed whispers and worried conversations. The festive atmosphere that Dusty had worked so hard to create had been dispelled in an instant. She appeared behind Ike, Ada, and Clay, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Goblins?”
“We found the goblin stronghold a while ago,” Ada explained. “We were helping Clay free the cattle they’d stolen.”
Clay caught his breath enough to stand, though he was still breathing heavily. “I got the cows headed back toward town. Told the bull in charge where to go. Nature Attunement is more useful than I thought.” He put a hand on Ada’s shoulder and gave her a sincere smile. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was sure you were a goner.”
“Sorry I left you behind,” Ike said. “I’m glad your quest worked out.”
Clay gave a firm nod. Ike thought it seemed like a gesture of respect between warriors. “I’m glad you did. And thanks for the loaner. Here,” Clay said, handing Ike back his short sword.
Dusty shook her head. “Okay, so you went into the goblin camp and stole their beef. Why did you feel the need to run up in here interrupting my show about it?” Her tone was troubled rather than irritated.
Clay’s expression turned grim. “As I was finishing up, the goblins raised the alarm. They came pouring out of the cave. Dozens, maybe hundreds, headed this way in force. I didn’t stick around to count. I heard this thing roaring underground.” Clay gulped. “Let’s just say it didn’t sound friendly.”
“If I were to guess,” Ike said, sheathing his short sword, “I’d say we triggered an event by attacking the goblin stronghold. It makes sense. Set up a force of enemies near a town, then unleash it as soon as the players in that town are clever or strong enough to attack it.”
“Like stirring up a hornet’s nest,” Ada said, shaking her head. “The game pointed us at it and we walked right into it without thinking.”
“Aww, don’t fret,” Dusty said. �
��I’d guess you aren’t the only players with goblin-related quests around here. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Ike noticed more than a few people nearby paying attention to their conversation. The tone in the room was rapidly building from concern to fear, with a few raised voices. With rest areas effectively impossible to reach, there was no way to log out without leaving their characters in harm’s way.
“So, what do we do?” Clay said, looking at Ike. Ada and Dusty immediately followed suit, as did a number of the people standing nearby.
Ike held up his hands. “Hold on. Why ask me?”
Clay shrugged. “So far, every time we’ve fought, you know just what to do. I may be big and dumb, but I’m smart enough to know I should listen to someone smarter than me.”
“You think well on your feet,” Ada said. “I can’t think of anyone better at coming up with plans.”
“And lest we all forget,” Dusty added, “You’re the hero who charged the goblin ranks. You’re the closest thing this town has to a famous player.”
“Slow down,” Ike said. “Some of that’s true, sure, but that hardly makes me qualified to lead. The guards…”
“...can organize the NPCs,” Ada interrupted. “Meanwhile, we’ve got a tavern full of scared players who need another player to point them in the right direction. Otherwise, everyone could die. Like it or not, you’re it, babe.”
Ike wanted to protest but felt a weird mix of pride and embarrassment when Ada referred to him as “babe” so casually. “Okay,” he said after a moment, “but I’ll need everyone’s help.” The other three nodded in unison. “Dusty, get their attention for me.”
“On it, hon,” Dusty said, spinning around and throwing her hands in the air. The spotlight from before shone down on her as she walked back toward the stage. Conversations stopped and eyes followed her as she moved. “Listen up, everyone! The show must go on, but we’ve got a war on our doorstep! So what’s a girl to do? Lucky us, we’ve got our very own goblin slayer here to break it down for us!”
