by Robert Bevan
With the slush getting thicker and thicker, Katherine thought swimming might be the faster option. Rather than wait and be surprised, she decided to take the guesswork out of when she was going to crash through the ice. She took a deep breath, jumped as high as she could, and came down hard on her heels.
She crashed through with ease. The water was chilly, but not quite as much as she'd expected. The tropical warmth was quickly reclaiming its rightful territory, and Nightwind was probably only hanging on by less ice than it took to chill a can of beer.
She swam to the front of the ship where the ice had broken through the hull. For all the weakness of the ice around it, the chunk still sticking though the basketball-sized hole was too solid to break off. She needed some air, and she needed to stall for time.
After punching through the surface, she poked her head through the weak ice and sucked in as much semi-refrigerated air as her lungs could take in. The ice was too weak to walk on. Her Spider Climb spell would have come in really handy right now if she hadn't needed a different second level spell to fix the boat.
She held her breath and went back underwater, punching through the ice again when she reached the rear of the ship. There wasn't enough rear for her to have to climb over. It was level with the sea, and Katherine feared she might be too late. There was only one way to find out. She pulled herself aboard, swam underwater to the deck, and opened the Bag of Holding.
Water swirled into the bag, but Katherine wasn't able to tell if she was bailing out the ship, or merely pulling in more water from outside. She remained there holding the bag open until her lungs screamed for oxygen. Then, just when she was about to break off and swim up for air, her head surfaced above the water.
She'd done it. At least, sort of. The ship's rear was now a good three inches above sea level. Some outside water was still sloshing in, and there was still a big hole in the front, but it was definitely an improvement.
She held the Bag of Holding over the side. “All the water.” The bag vomited all the water it had taken back into the sea where it belonged.
Repeating the process a few more times yielded less and less results, until Katherine saw that the ship was actually starting to sink again. The ice which had been half-assedly plugging the hole in the hull must have either snapped free or melted away. It was time to fix the ship.
Katherine cranked open the cargo door just enough so that she could slip down into the hold, then reached into the Bag of Holding. “Light stone.”
She held the stone before her as she entered the cargo hold and swam to the front of the ship. The ice was gone, and water was flowing freely into the breach. Katherine dropped the bag and the stone, placed her hands on the damaged wood, and hoped that being underwater wouldn't affect her spellcasting abilities.
“Warp Wood,” she bubbled out with the last of her breath.
The wood surrounding the hole thickened and twisted against her hands. Under normal circumstances, this would be a spell one would use to sink a ship rather than keep it from sinking. And while it didn't completely repair the hole, it did appear to have significantly reduced the size of it. Nightwind was still in extreme danger of sinking, but Katherine hoped that the Bag of Holding could outpace the leak until she was able to prepare another spell. It was time to find out.
She swam down to the bottom of the ship, grabbed the bag, then pushed herself up toward the cargo door.
A few bagfuls of water over the side later, she was winning the fight again.
“Hey!” Denise's voice was barely audible above the balmy tropical breeze, creaking wood, and sloshing water.
Katherine trudged through the knee-high water to dump the bag over the right side so she could try and see where they were. Denise and Randy had caught up to Butterbean. Katherine waved at them.
“You fix the boat or what?”
“Kind of!” she shouted back. “Stay there! I'll come and get you!”
She filled and emptied the bag three more times before she felt she'd bought enough time to bag up her traveling companions and return to the ship before it sank. When she was as satisfied as she thought she was likely to be, she dived overboard and swam as hard as she could toward them.
“Get in the bag,” she said when she reached the swiftly melting ice island they were all huddled on. She flopped the Bag of Holding down at Randy's feet.
“You all go ahead,” said Randy glumly. “I failed Basil. I watched him drown while he was screamin' for me to save him. I deserve to join him.”
“Listen, Randy,” said Katherine. “I'm sorry for your loss. I really am. But my arms and legs are fucking exhausted right now. There will be time enough to mourn once we're on solid ground, and we're not going to make it that far without your help. So please cut the drama and get in the goddamn bag.”
Denise didn't wait for a response from Randy. She picked up the bag and pulled it down hard over his head, then held it open for Butterbean, who was more than ready to jump inside. Finally, she pulled the bag down over her own head. Katherine grabbed it and swam back to Nightwind. The thought of those two hillbilly fuckwits taking over bailing duty while she got some rest was the motivation that got her back on board.
After Katherine pulled them out of the bag, she demonstrated her water bailing method while they caught their breath. Once she was satisfied that they could take over without her supervision, she retired to her captain's quarters, sipped a bit of Captain Martinoli's spiced rum, and let herself drift off to sleep.
Chapter 50
The sled ride back to the Glade was one of the most terrifying and uncomfortable rides Chaz had ever been on. He knew Fuckface would kill him if he thought he could get away with it. The only thing keeping Mordred from killing all of them was the shitbag over his head. Ironically, though, it was Cooper who'd come closest to killing him when Nabi had been willing to chop straight through him to put an end to the Dark Lord.
Also, the sled hadn't been built to seat four, so it was kind of cramped. And the stench of Cooper's raisin shit wasn't at all confined to the shitbag.
It was a long slow ride, and Chaz was able to watch the sun set behind him and rise ahead of him before they finally arrived.
The Glade was busier than it had been the last time they'd visited. There were now dozens of pixies working and cavorting in the rays of sunlight that poked through the forest canopy. Chaz supposed they might have been there before and had chosen to remain invisible and silent, but that seemed unlikely.
When the boar pulled up, everyone stopped what they were doing and approached cautiously, some of them turning invisible. It occurred to Chaz that all the pixies they'd met so far fell inside a young adult age bracket, and he'd wrongly assumed that's just what pixies look like no matter how old they get. But while most of the pixies assembled in front of them looked like they might get carded for beer, there were a few elderly folks as well as some young children among them. The former appeared almost as youthful as the pixies he'd been traveling with, but the bold and vibrant colors of their hair had faded to grey. The latter were so tiny, they could fit in his cupped hand.
Nabi's sister, Hollywhirl, fluttered down to the front of the crowd, trying to look pleased to see them, but her eyes kept twitching toward Fuckface.
“You have succeeded. New buds grow on the tree branches. Thanks to you, we shall enjoy a second spring, and it is safe enough for the children and elders to fly outside again.” Her smile faltered as she glanced between Fuckface and Mordred. “I see there are more of you now than there were when we first met. To whom do we have the honor of welcoming to our Glade?”
“You've met Fuckface,” said Chaz, gratefully stepping away from the sled. “As long as you keep him alive, his Ward of Protection will help you ferret out and destroy the rest of the Dark Ones.”
“And the other one?”
“This is... Mordred.” Technically not a lie.
“And Mordred is...”
“My uncle,” said Cooper. It was Chaz'
s fault. He should have spoken before Cooper had a chance to.
Hollywhirl narrowed her eyes at Cooper. “You, a half-orc, ran into your dwarven uncle wandering around in a lifeless forest, then proceeded to bind his hands with rope?”
Cooper farted nervously. “He was abusive. He used to get drunk and touch me in bad places.”
Hollywhirl flew closer, sniffed the air, and backed away. “Is that a bag of shit on his head?”
Chaz was tempted to let Cooper keep talking and see how deep a hole he could dig himself into. But he wanted to get to the Whore's Head and unload the responsibility for Mordred off his shoulders as soon as possible.
“That's the one you refer to as the Dark Lord.”
The whole crowd gasped, which was weird considering a good three-quarters of them had turned invisible by this point.
“And you brought him here?” cried Hollywhirl. “You were supposed to slay the Dark Lord, not bring him into our Glade!” She glared at Cooper. “Where is my sister? She wouldn't have stood for this.”
Cooper held up his axe non-threateningly. “She's still in here. And for what it's worth, she was very much opposed to this.”
“The Dark Lord took Nabi's wings. Nothing would have stopped her from reaping her vengeance.”
“We need Mordred alive. Nabi wasn't happy about it, but she put my needs and the needs of my friends before her own thirst for vengeance.”
Hollywhirl circled Cooper, scrutinizing him. “I believe you, both because my sister can be very foolish and because I have personally witnessed your pathetic attempts at lying.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you realize how much power the Dark Lord has consumed?”
Cooper nodded. “A substantial amount.”
“And you seek to contain that power with a bit of twine and a bag of shit?”
“It seemed a lot less stupid before you put it that way.”
Hollywhirl turned to the assembled pixies. “Bind this dwarf properly and get to work on some anti-magic wards.” When several of them flew away to follow her orders, she turned to Chaz. “Dimplethorn had more faith in your safe return than most of us. She's been waiting to give you a token of our appreciation.”
Cooper snorted.
It was awkward enough without Hollywhirl announcing it in front of everyone. Was it supposed to happen here? With everyone watching? Chaz didn't want to be rude, but getting jerked off by a pixie in front of Cooper and a crowd of spectators was where he drew the line.
“Hey, listen. About that. I don't mean to sound unappreciative of the offer, but I –”
“There you are!” said Dimplethorn, flying hurriedly into view. She smiled at Chaz. “Sorry I'm so late. I was making some last minute preparations for the surprise I promised you. Please follow me.”
That sounded more promising. She was going away from the crowd, and they weren't following her. Chaz wasn't half as bothered about everyone knowing what they were up to, so long as they weren't actually watching it happen. She would have rubbed his dick raw before he could have shot a load under that kind of pressure.
Dimplethorn led him to a particularly wide elm tree at the edge of the glade. It was still a little too close to the crowd for his liking, but if they went on the other side of it, he could probably block them out mentally long enough to squirt.
But she didn't go on the other side of it. Instead, she flew up to the branches and started tugging random ones. Just when he was about to ask her what she was doing, the ground opened up at his feet. Roots and stones formed steps leading down into a secret tunnel beneath the Glade.
Dimplethorn flew inside, then turned to him with a seductive smile. “Watch your step.”
Now this was some first-class privacy. Chaz followed her down the curved staircase, careful not to slip on the mossy stones. He was exhausted from the long sled ride, but he had most of his Strength back now, and he was confident he could give her a load that she could truly remember him by.
He unlaced his pants and started stroking life into his dick. There was no point in making her work from ground zero. While he didn't want to seem overzealous, getting an erection going would be an act of courtesy, and a compliment as well. As his dick got hard in his hand, he wondered what kind of preparations she had made. Scented candles? Lube? Booze? He hoped it was booze.
After they reached the bottom of the stairs, Dimplethorn led him down a corridor much better-constructed than Morning Glory Hole had been. The support arches keeping the ground from caving in on them were made of living wood. Some of them were actually sprouting leaves. Luminescent fungus growing on of the walls illuminated their way.
“This is where we hid the elders and spritelets from the Dark Ones,” she explained.
“Oh?” said Chaz, feigning interest but wishing she would talk about something other than old people and children. He stared at her tiny pixie ass as it bobbed and weaved ahead of him. He was going to plaster her to the fucking wall with jizz.
Whoa. Calm down there. We don't want to squirt too early again. One time is a fluke. Twice is a pattern.
Chaz stroked more gently. It took skill and focus to maintain an erection without escalating toward ejaculation. In game terms, he imagined it would involve a combination of Dexterity and Willpower. The very act of imagining it in game terms was part of the process of de-escalation. His mind was still focused on his dick, which kept it at attention, but thoughts of numbers and statistics and dice and a table full of nerds were almost as much of a counterbalance to his arousal as the room full of children that Dimplethorn led him into.
“Surprise!” said Dimplethorn, turning around to face him. “We've been working on this ever since – Oh dear.”
A dozen pixie children and half as many elders gawked as Chaz frantically tried to pull his pants back up over his stiff and aching junk while at the same time jumping out of the doorway. He failed spectacularly in both endeavors, tripping over his own feet and falling hard to the earthy ground.
He rolled out of his audience's view, pulled his pant up properly, and started lacing over the tent he was now pitching.
The children in the room were laughing their tiny asses off.
“What the fuck was that?” said Chaz. “I thought you were going to... you know... like you did before.”
“Not in front of a bunch of spritelets and elders!”
“How was I supposed to know they were down here?”
“I told you they were. But I supposed you were distracted.” Dimplethorn huffed. Her face was flushed. She peeked back into the room and cleared her throat until the kids stopped laughing. “Would you mind giving us a little time alone?”
Chaz sat against the wall and covered his face as the pixies filed out of the room and headed down the corridor toward the surface. Some of the elderly ones were voicing their opinions on what just happened.
“Shameful.”
“Typical human.”
“Were we supposed to be impressed? Proportionally speaking, it wasn't anything special.”
When the voices got far enough away, Chaz chanced a peek.
“They're gone now,” said Dimplethorn. Her voice was heavy with the distraction of knowing she was going to have to face those people again.
Chaz crawled hurriedly into the room. “I'm really sorry about that. You have to believe I didn't know there were –”
“Of course I believe you.” Dimplethorn smiled at him. “I've believed in you since I first met you. You are the hero I have –” She glared at something giggling invisibly behind her, then reached into a small pouch on her belt and hurled a handful of glitter at the seemingly empty space.
Some of the glitter fell to the ground, but most of it stayed suspended in the air, taking the form of the heads, torsos, and arms of two pixie children. They let go of the laughter they'd been trying hard to suppress as they flitted out into the corridor.
The awkwardness of the situation was only a little less comfortable than Chaz's aching balls
, angry at being denied the release they were promised. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go find a private place to deliver on that promise, then get as far away from this forest as possible. Dimplethorn was a sweet girl, but Chaz knew that there was a threshold for how badly he could fuck up in a relationship and still have a chance at repairing the damage. And he knew that he'd crossed well over that threshold the moment he jerked off in front of a bunch of children and old people. It was time to cut this one loose, get the hell out, and never look back.
“You've been more generous to me than I deserve,” he said. “I really can't accept anything more.”
Dimplethorn's face turned angry. “I told those children a story of the hero who would deliver them from the Dark Lord's power. They've worked very hard over the past couple of days to decorate this for you. Toss it on a fire for all I care once you leave this wood, but you will leave here with it.”
Chaz was beginning to suspect that the surprise Dimplethorn had in mind was not, in fact, another handjob. He followed her teary gaze to the paint-splattered table at the center of the room which all the children had been gathered around when he first entered.
Atop the table sat some kind of oddly-shaped leather box, covered in colorful hand-painted illustrations of what the children obviously expected his confrontation with the Dark Lord to have looked like. There wasn't a single depiction of a naked dwarf with a bag of shit over his head, but there were a bunch of pictures of a kick-ass bard blasting the shit out of some black demon beast with energy beams and lightning bolts which emanated from a variety of musical instruments.
“Are these... me?”
Dimplethorn wiped a tear away and nodded.
None of these kids had ever seen Chaz, but the similarities were enough to tell that Dimplethorn had given them some rough guidelines to work with. An instrument of choice was clearly not one of those guidelines, however, as Chaz was depicted kicking the Dark Lord's ass with horns and pipes and harps and lutes and... Finally, he recognized the strange box for what it was.
