by Max Anthony
“Oh, bits and pieces, you know?” said the man. “Word is that Elsie Lumper has been having problems with rats in her cellar. You look like the adventuring types. Maybe you should speak to her and see if you can help.” With that, the man went silent, even when Viddo stared at him expectantly.
“Anything else?” asked Rasmus.
“There’re always things happening in a place like this,” said the bar keep. “Folk have been talking about noises coming from the well. People have been getting scared. They say it’s haunted.” Again, he fell silent, as if he’d completely lost interest in the conversation.
“Anything else?” asked Viddo.
“Strange things going on around here. Old Mrs Chank’s wedding ring has gone missing. Stolen, she reckons. To think that there might be thieves around here – it makes an honest man upset, it does.”
The fellow stared ahead of him.
“Anything else?” asked Jera.
“Not that I can think of,” the man replied.
With his supply of information disgorged, the bar keep wandered away, leaving the adventurers to find themselves a table at which to wait for their food.
“Textbook stuff and probably nothing worth getting involved in,” said Viddo. “Still, we have nothing better to do, so perhaps we could investigate one or two of these rumours before bedtime and see if we can assist with any of the associated problems.”
“It all sounds very exciting,” said Jera, her eyes alight. “Just imagine that – a haunted well, rats in that poor woman’s cellar and a stolen ring. However, I can’t quite escape the feeling that neither of you two are particularly thrilled by this array of quests before us.”
Rasmus sighed and Viddo exhaled. “We aren’t,” said the wizard. “We’ve probably cleaned rats out of fifty different cellars and investigated dozens of haunted wells. Back in the day, you couldn’t find a village with a well that wasn’t haunted. I’ll guarantee that it’s children playing a prank.”
“And the missing ring is sure to turn up in a fruit bowl or somewhere equally simple,” said Viddo.
“When we find it, the poor old dear will hand over three coppers from her life savings and expect us to be grateful.”
“So if we sound cynical, it’s because we are.”
“You two need to rediscover the joys of adventuring,” admonished Jera, disappointed that her own enthusiasm was not mirrored.
“I’m sorry,” said Rasmus. “I realise that this is new to you, while we have become weary of the low-level questing that took up much of our youth.”
“I too am sorry,” spoke Viddo. “Let us wait until we have finished our food and then we can investigate these peculiar happenings and see if there is anything unexpected.”
“Yes!” said Rasmus, showing the first sign of interest. “It is not unknown for the most innocuous of quests to lead onto something much bigger.”
“More hazardous!” said Viddo.
“Where the rewards will be greater for the brave adventurers who become involved!”
Viddo turned to Jera. “Another funny thing about bar keeps is that they’ll always keep the juiciest quest to themselves, until you’ve done a few other bits and pieces beforehand. It’s the strangest thing ever, but I’ll wager that as soon as we’ve solved these minor problems, that fellow behind the bar will suddenly volunteer something new.”
After a while, two chickens arrived along with a loaf of soft bread and a pot of heavily-salted butter. The food took less time to be eaten that it had taken in its preparation and the plates were soon empty.
“I reckon we’ve still got nigh on an hour until it gets dark. Let’s get out there and see if we can complete a quest or two,” said Rasmus.
2
Twenty minutes later, they’d found the diamond ring where it had fallen beneath a floorboard. Viddo swore that there was nothing magical about the technique which allowed him to unearth the item after less than a minute of searching. The owner, a shrivelled old prune called Mrs Chank had taken a shine to Rasmus and pinched his bottom on more than one occasion. The wizard was the oldest of the two by well over two hundred years and it was all he could do to prevent himself from giving the back of her hand a firm smack and lecturing her on good manners. The old dear was clearly halfway bonkers and in the end, he didn’t have the heart to tell her off. Besides, Viddo had whispered to him that the diamond in the ring was a fake and all three of them felt somehow guilty, as if their knowledge made them complicit in cheating Mrs Chank.
Four coppers richer, they headed off to the village well. They didn’t have to wait long. Rasmus and Jera hid themselves in a nearby alley, while Viddo cloaked himself amongst the shadows in the ankle-deep water at the well’s bottom. After thirty minutes, he heard whispering and suppressed mirth as two small shapes descended by shimmying down a rope. Shortly thereafter, the thief collared two of the village youths. Under an extensive cross-examination, they admitted that they’d been hiding in the well once or twice a week and making surprisingly-effective ghost impressions to scare the other villagers. Although unsurprised, Rasmus found himself tickled and sent the youths on their way, with the four coppers from Mrs Chank burdening their pockets as a reward for their high-jinks.
“Let’s go and kill a few giant rats,” said Viddo, once the two boys had vanished from sight.
“Giant rats?” asked Jera. “No one said they’d be giant.”
“That’s the thing with these quests. It’s as if there’s some sort of conspiracy to ensure your honest adventurer suffers an unpleasant fate through trickery and surprise,” Viddo told her.
“One would never learn anything from chopping at standard rodents,” advised Rasmus. “Therefore, it’s almost certain that these rats will be of the larger variety.”
It was as if Rasmus and Viddo were somehow able to divine the future. Elsie Lumper was an attractive widow, with the nervousness of a lady who wasn’t certain what her future held. Jera picked up on the lady’s concerns and asked her about it. Mrs Lumper was coy and reluctant to divulge any information, other than that she’d heard a lot of rustling in the far room of her cellar recently. Three adventurers descended into the cellar, killed four giant rats and then exited the cellar.
“They’d been getting in through a hole in the wall,” Jera said to Mrs Lumper. “They probably have a burrow along the stream somewhere close by.”
“We’ve moved a couple of crates over the hole,” added Viddo. “You should probably get someone in to brick it up properly in the morning.”
With another five coppers to share between them, they headed to The Grumpy Wizard.
“Why didn’t you turn down the reward?” asked Jera. “It’s not like we need it.”
“Good gracious, one can’t turn down one’s rightful reward!” said Rasmus. “How very rude that would be!”
“We’ve done our duty with honesty and competence, therefore we must take some recompense for it,” admonished Viddo. “That’s just how it is.”
Not wishing to question established norms and rules, Jera fell silent. The three of them entered the tavern once more, finding it to be a little more crowded now that it was well into the evening. There was a low hubbub of chatter, which seemed possessed of a nervous energy. Glances were shot here and there, as if the patrons were expecting death at any moment.
They wended their way through the clutter of chairs and tables until they reached the bar. The same man was still serving and he took their order for three more cups of ale and another four chickens.
“Anything of interest happening around here?” asked Rasmus nonchalantly.
“Why yes, it’s odd that you should ask,” said the bar keep with a crinkle to his forehead. “We’ve had three or four people go missing in the last month or two. They’d be out working the fields in the way that they always did and they never came back. Some of the folk here reckon they just upped sticks and left for somewhere else, but if you ask me there’s something more to it. And then there’s Jard
i Spontle – he lives over by the woods – he says he’s heard all sorts of strange noises around his house at night.”
The trio found themselves a seat.
“See – I told you he’d have something up his sleeve,” said Viddo of the bar keep. “It’s always the same.”
“This sounds a lot more dangerous than a missing diamond ring and a few rats,” said Jera. “Shouldn’t we locate this Jardi Spontle’s house and find out what’s going on? He might be killed or kidnapped if we don’t hurry.”
“It never seems to happen that way,” replied Rasmus. “Let’s finish our ale and our chickens first. Besides, any nefarious doings tend to happen in the dead of night rather than mid-way through the evening. There’s plenty of time to investigate and still get a good night’s sleep.”
Jera was surprised that it was still as early as it was – it seemed as if they had already accomplished a lot of helpful tasks, albeit minor ones. She was puzzled as to why her companions had such a laid-back approach, though in truth they had proven to be right about almost everything so far. Jera supposed that she might one day become as knowledgeable as they, given a bit more time to see how things worked.
Almost an hour later, they left the tavern and joined the narrow road that left the village. It was more of a wide track than a formal road, but it was easy enough to follow by the light of Rasmus’ spell. It didn’t take long to leave the last of the houses behind and they were soon crossing an area of uneven ground that had been left fallow. The track veered around a field of crops and followed the bank of the stream for about a third of a mile. The first trees of the woods blotted out progressively more of the distant sky as they drew closer.
“Over there.” said Viddo. “I can see a light between the trees.”
Sure enough, the light came from a single window in a small house, which could have less charitably been described as a shack. Even seen indistinctly, it was apparent that this abode was older than most of the other houses in the nearby village, as if the resident had been here long before the other villagers arrived.
“This Spontle fellow must have been farming these lands for years,” said Viddo.
“Probably came out here for a bit of peace and quiet and before he knew it there was a village on his doorstep,” replied Rasmus.
The hut was fewer than two dozen paces across the treeline, as if the owner had sought shelter and anonymity, yet without desiring to commit entirely to a life within the woods. It was made completely of planks, perhaps twenty feet long and looked solid enough, albeit weathered from wind and rain. Rasmus strode towards the single door and knocked firmly.
“We’ve come to investigate the noises!” he said, raising his voice over the soughing of the trees.
The door was not opened, though Viddo thought he heard a scraping sound from within. “We would like to speak to you!” called the thief. “We are here to help!”
This time there was definitely a noise – that of old, heavy boots heading across thick plank flooring towards the front door. The door was opened with a scrape, letting the yellow light from within wash over the three adventurers. There was a man within. He was a little beyond his middle years, with a lined face and deep-set eyes. His hair was grey and tangled, though looked clean enough. He wore the standard thick smock which clothed many of the agricultural people who worked in this part of Frodgia.
“What do you want me for?” he asked, his voice grouchy and gravelly.
“We’ve been told that people have gone missing,” said Jera. “A man at The Grumpy Wizard tells us you’ve heard noises.”
Jardi Spontle narrowed his eyes as if he were just noticing Jera for the first time. His face cracked into a wide grin and he cackled. “A woman in armour! What will they think of next? You had better come in. And watch that hammer, missy. I don’t want you knocking over any of my furniture with it!”
Jera stood still for a moment with her mouth open. Viddo nudged her gently in the ribs and gave her a wink. She said nothing and closed her mouth, following wizard and thief inside.
As it turned out, Jardi Spontle had little in the way of furniture for Jera to knock over. The interior of his shack had only one room, with a table, two chairs, a bed and a cupboard. There was a stone fireplace with a few logs within, even though this part of Frodgia rarely got cold enough to need the provision of additional warmth.
“What are these noises you’ve been hearing?” asked Rasmus. He wasn’t a fan of small talk and had realised that their host was of a similar mind.
“Big noises. Heavy noises,” said Spontle. “And I don’t like them.”
“Could it be a bear?” asked Jera.
“There’re no bears in these woods, missy,” the old man replied. “The last bear got killed fifty years ago or longer. Anyway, these noises are different. I’ve heard growling sounds that aren’t like anything that comes from a bear.”
“How often do you hear these sounds and do you think it’s a creature of some sort that is preying on the villagers?” asked Viddo.
“That’d be my guess,” replied Spontle. “I reckon it’s something come from the castle over yonder.”
Jera had been around her companions for long enough to sense the palpable interest coming from wizard and thief at the mention of the castle.
“Is the castle empty?” asked Viddo.
“Meant to be. Abandoned decades ago – fifty, sixty years, I reckon. Baron Valps used to live there. A right proper bastard he was. Then he just vanished – the gates were shut and no one heard anything more from him. He had men serving under him – bastards the lot of them. I don’t know what happened to them and I doubt they stuck around long enough for the locals to string them up.”
“Didn’t anyone break into the castle?” asked Rasmus. “Every abandoned castle I’ve ever seen has been thoroughly pillaged.”
“They say it’s haunted,” said Spontle, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “And magic guards the castle from intruders. Baron Valps will come back one day, the people tell each other. If he finds out he’s been robbed, he’ll be brutal in meting out punishment.”
Viddo and Rasmus exchanged one of their glances. Now that Jera was part of the group she was invited to share the glance, which she did.
“How often have you heard the sounds of the creature?” asked Rasmus.
“It used to be every so often and I ignored it, thinking it might go away. It comes more often now and closer. I’ve got my pitchfork, though.” He pointed to a clean-looking farming implement propped against one of the walls. “If anything wants to take old Jardi Spontle it’s going to get a fork in the guts.” As he said this, he mimed the act of thrusting a spiked weapon into the entrails of an assailant.
“I’m sure it won’t know what has hit it,” said Rasmus drily. The old man looked strong like a labourer, but the wizard didn’t think he’d last long in a scrap with anything vicious. Spontle continued with his act of killing an imaginary opponent until he realised that it was making him look like an idiot.
“You two look like you know how to handle yourselves,” he said, pointing specifically to Rasmus and Viddo. “I’ll bet there’re a lot of folk in town who’d be thankful if you got rid of whatever it is that’s out there. Your serving girl’s got a pretty face as well. I’m sure she could find some work in the tavern, or sweeping up floors while you got down to business.”
Before Jera could do something hasty like punch the old coot firmly in the chops, she found herself bundled out of the front door by her friends. They thanked Spontle in loud voices, as if they hoped to drown out any threats that might spill from Jera’s tongue. Their efforts were mostly successful and within moments, they were standing outside the shack and the door had been closed behind them.
“What an unpleasant old git!” Jera said. She still occasionally struggled with her swear words, well-mannered lady that she was.
“You meet them everywhere,” said Rasmus soothingly. “The fact is, that unpleasant old git has given
us several leads that might provide an exciting diversion on this trip to Trilbus.”
“I thought you’d run out of spells?” replied Jera.
“Sort of,” Rasmus said evasively. “One or two small ones remain. And a couple of big ones if needs be. Regardless, I was not intending for us to embark upon an extended campaign of adventuring. Dear me no! We should simply see where our feet and our deeds carry us.”
“The good people of this unnamed village need us,” added Viddo.
Jera knew where this was heading. “Let me guess. And if, in the process of doing our good deeds, we manage to stumble upon anything valuable, then so much the better?”
Rasmus and Viddo beamed at her. “I couldn’t have put it better myself,” said the wizard.
Jera wasn’t the sort of person who could stay angry for long. As a fighter by trade, she had to be in control of her emotions during the heat of a battle against the most powerful of foes. In contrast, pretending that she hadn’t heard the dismissive words of a stupid old farmer was easily done.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked. “Lurk around in the vicinity of this hut until something attacks us?”
“Of course not!” said Viddo. “Beasts of the woods do not attack people in armour who are bristling with weapons. In order to lure in our target, we must take a different approach.”
With that, Viddo led the way towards the village, giving no further explanation. Once at The Grumpy Wizard, the thief spoke to the bar keep for a short time, procuring the items he needed for a small deposit and a promise to return them shortly.
Soon after, Rasmus and Jera found themselves transformed from a powerful wizard and skilful fighter into a doddering old duffer and his niece.
“There!” said Viddo with some satisfaction as he looked at his companions. Rasmus had a thick, brown cloak of rough material wrapped around his frame, with a hood pulled low over his head to hide his youthful appearance. The glowing tip of his staff was wrapped with a small sack and he carried an oil-filled lantern. Jera had left her shield, gauntlets and pauldrons at her room in the tavern and had a red cape to cover the rest of her armour. Her hammer was hidden inside a basket she carried.
