The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  “You are sure of this? She took the pass?”

  “Rumib Pass? She didn’t take it; the townsfolk gave it to her. And I’m sure because that’s where I just came from after tussling with Goblins and some Mahrduhm soldiers. There was a ranger who said he saw the army, and it was huge. I helped the townsfolk get down here last night, and now that I’ve seen the sights of Arenberg, I’m ready to get out and head west. I’ve heard about cities under siege, and—”

  “Do you know if she is bringing her entire army?”

  “That I don’t know. I know the ranger said it was big and carried her banner. And that, I mean, I killed a man who carried the sword that says the Queen favors him.”

  He looked me over, as if he was trying to figure out whether or not to believe what I’d told him. Then he nodded once.

  “If what you say is true, I have at least one last errand to run before we can go.”

  “You’ve got some way to make money on this?”

  “Ah, there is always money to be made in war. It all depends on what you are willing to do when you know the war is starting.”

  “You think I might invest?”

  He frowned. “If you have enough coin to invest, why are you taking a low-level position on my caravan?”

  “Happy accident? I just happen to have some gold, and I mean, as long as we’re being honest, my main goal is to get west. I’d prefer not to spend all my savings doing that, so, going across with you, earning money and earning skills, that’s a much better deal. But I’ve got 30 gold I can invest.”

  His eyes went a little wide, but he quickly hid any emotion, and stopped to think about his potential deal. “I can always use a little more gold, and the horses can probably pull a tad more weight. I cannot guarantee a return.”

  “I know how investing works,” I said, and passed over the coin.

  He looked it over, and did a quick count. “At least this isn’t the queen’s coin.”

  “That’d be annoying, huh?”

  Chapter 20

  There wasn’t a ton left to do to get the wagons ready. I hefted a few barrels here, tied some knots there. But eventually we were all left sitting there, waiting in the sunshine.

  Somewhere in the neighborhood of a half hour later, Cleeve came back, moving very quickly, followed by a giant minotaur. It was unnerving to see a creature from fairy tales, with the head of a bull and the body of a human, in real life. Or whatever this new life was. The dude was huge. Shimmering black fur covered his body, and he had a brilliant gold ring between his nostrils. Each shoulder was the size of a basketball, and he had to stand at least eight feet tall. His pecs strained against a thin shirt, and his horns were massive, pointy and a little terrifying. The minotaur had a chest over one shoulder and a massive sack of something in his other hand.

  Cleeve carried a heavy bag of his own, though he was having a bit more trouble with his bag then the minotaur.

  “Move out,” Cleeve yelled, “on the double.”

  It seemed like something was wrong. Of course, that was usually my reasoning for any time I had to leave quicker than normal.

  Everyone snapped into action, as if this was just normal. The wagons were already moving before I could ask anyone what I should do.

  The minotaur hopped onto the third wagon, with Lee, and snapped the reins. So, clearly the driver. Cleeve had mounted a horse and was already riding along with three of the guards, also on horseback. That left one guard on the first wagon, one on the second, and the minotaur and Lee of the third. Who was supposed to be the guard was still up for debate, though I suppose the minotaur could be doing double duty as guard and driver. I grabbed the last wagon as it passed, and hauled myself up to the seat right next to Cole, getting nothing more from the man than a taciturn grunt.

  Let’s just get this out of the way first: wagons aren’t comfortable. They’re bumpy and they jostle and toss you all around, and it’s loud as hell. And horses fart constantly. And horse farts stink.

  Still, riding out on a wagon train was kind of awesome at the same time. It wasn’t quite noon, so the sun was just on the morning side of the sky. The air was cold and crisp and fresh, and we were moving. We passed through the city wall, and, again, I was impressed at the edifice of stone. It was like marching out into a different world.

  Farmland spread out before me, as far as I could see. People worked the fields with horses, oxen, and all sorts of old mechanical machines I’d never seen before. The road below us was stone, wide enough for two wagons to pass comfortably. The Empire followed the English rules of the road, so we drove on the left.

  It was quaint, almost relaxing. But even though the long days were starting to wear on me, I felt my job was to be a guard, which meant I needed to be alert. I shook my head, tried to get the sleepiness to evaporate, and really looked around at my immediate surroundings.

  We remained the last wagon in the train. Two horsemen rode a ways behind us on nimble little horses, and two horsemen rode up front, ahead of the first wagon. The wagons were big, certainly larger than I was expecting. About six feet wide, large enough that I could sit a bit distant from Cole. The bottom was three or so feet from the ground, and the top soared to twelve feet. Each was about twenty feet long. Large hoops went up and around the bed of the wagon, with a heavy canvas cover stretched across. Oregon Trail-style, but bigger and beefier. Same for the horses. Big draft horses who towered over me when I stood next to them, with backs so broad I could sleep on one comfortably. All chestnut colored, they had long white socks and almost an overabundance of muscle. Despite the wagons being loaded to the gills, the horses didn’t seem to have much trouble hauling. The goods we were carrying were all covered by boring beige cloth, tied here or there so all I could tell there was a box here or a barrel there.

  “What are they growing?” I asked Cole, pointing to the farm we were passing.

  “Crops,” he said, not even bothering to look.

  “Do you know what kind?”

  He glared at me long enough it got uncomfortable, and then went back to driving the wagon.

  I sighed, resigning myself to an interminable and boring ride. Which lasted just long enough for me to remember that my only weapon was a shield. There was no way I’d be able to do anything if there was an attack besides shield Cole, something I didn’t particularly want to do. Clearly, the bossman expected me to rest during the day. At least this one day. I leaned against the backrest, and crossed my arms, then my ankles, and just enjoyed watching the scenery bump on by. Eventually, I found something like sleep.

  Chapter 21

  My wake-up call came in the form of a sharp pain in the ribs.

  I opened my eyes. The sun was close to the horizon, right in front of us, and the sky was transitioning to twilight. Our wagons had stopped and formed a loose square. Cole jabbed me in the ribs again.

  “I’m up,” I said, smacking his hand away.

  “Down,” Cole snapped.

  I swore under my breath, but jumped to the ground. I did a little stretching, feeling very tight after the pseudo-sleep on the road, and observed the group.

  The drivers gathered up the horses, hobbled them, and, following the directions of the minotaur, started evening care. One of the guards who’d been riding was tending a fire. He had something in a pot as soon as the fire was hot enough.

  Apparently, during our day’s journey, we’d traveled beyond the bounds of the farmland, and it looked like we were in something approaching wilderness. It was just grass and trees as far as I could see, though the road was still perfectly maintained. We had stopped for the night in a copse of trees, a spot where our wagons would be difficult to see from any real distance. I had the feeling Cleeve wanted the keep the wagons from as many prying eyes as he could. He had guards on for a reason.

  Cleeve walked up to me with a massive axe in his hand. He shoved it into mine.

  “Follow,” he said.

  I checked the axe.

  Battle Axe

>   Item Type: Common

  Item Class: Two-handed Melee

  Material: Iron

  Damage: 18-36 (Slashing)

  Durability: 20/20

  Weight: 9 lbs

  Requirements: Str 12

  Description: A double-bladed axe meant for cleaving.

  The weapon had twin blades, each about a foot long and a haft about six feet long. The whole thing was metal, no wood. The end of the haft was wrapped in leather, providing an obvious grip, and there was a sphere of metal at the end, my guess, to provide some balance for the huge axehead. I hefted the axe and followed.

  Cleeve led me outside the wagon square and to the other side of the road.

  “The axe,” Cleeve said. “A tool for chopping. Best for unarmored opponents.”

  He had a length of wood in his hand.

  “Attack me,” he said.

  I shrugged, and gave the axe a big ol’ swing.

  He parried the chop and smashed his stick into my arm.

  I hissed. It fucking hurt.

  “Again,” he snapped.

  We fought, and he taught. Mostly through beating his stick against my person. I never got close to hitting him, though I did manage to take a massive chunk from an irascible tree that refused to get out of my way.

  Cleeve was breathing hard, and held up a hand. I leaned against the axe and I waved. I mean, he was an older dude — I couldn’t exactly expect him to keep up with me. We stopped sparring, and he taught me a few forms, ways of swinging and stances to fall into so that I could develop the muscle memory I’d need to survive an ambush or a surprise fight. Then, he showed me what to do if I over-extended after a big swing, how to control the weight and speed, and how to stop the axe to make quick counterattacks.

  Sweat was pouring off me when a chime rang out. Cleeve gave me an extra smack.

  “Food,” he said. He walked away without saying anything else.

  I stood there, breathing hard for a second, but as soon as I was able to take a few deep breaths, I felt fine. Like I could do this all night if I could just have a moment’s rest every now and again. I noticed a little blinking light in the corner of my vision.

  Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Axes. Not just for trees, axes can also chop down men and monsters. +5% damage. +5% skill.

  There you go, leveling up the skill Axes. Not just for trees, axes can also chop down men and monsters. +2% damage. +2% skill.

  Back over the road and through the wagons, there was a nice fire going with a few improvised seats around it. The guard who’d tended the fire and made the stew handed me a bowlful, along with a piece of hard bread.

  The stew was good. Filling. Peppery. And the bread, when used to soak up some of the stew, was tasty in its own incredibly chewy way. Most everyone went back for seconds, but after watching the Minotaur scrape the pot into his bowl, I just leaned against the wheel and enjoyed the almost full feeling.

  “New guy. Montana. First watch,” Cleeve called out. “Donner, second, Teela, last.”

  Donner, a guard with a massive scar running down his face, through his eye and disappearing into his armor, nodded.

  Teela was smaller, but seemingly more rough and tumble. She gave a snappy little salute.

  Everyone seemed to know what to do. They all got to their feet, handed their bowls back to the cook-guard, and then went about tidying things up and pulling bedrolls and pillows from hiding spots on the wagons. Everyone seemed to have their own little sleeping spot already picked out, and the span of time from finishing dinner to general snoring was ridiculously quick. No one slept under the stars except the minotaur, who went and leaned against a tree among the horses.

  Cleeve was having a terse chat with Lee, and I walked over near them, leaving enough room, I thought, to be polite.

  “Why are you looking?” Cleeve asked.

  “I wanted to give you the axe back.”

  “Need it for guard duty, don’t you? Return it in the morning.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  I felt like an idiot. I walked over to the opposite side of the wagons, and I stood there with the axe. I paced around the camp a few times. The fire in the middle burned low. I made sure not to look at the fire too often, something I picked up from a book. In the Scouts, we never bothered to set watches at night. I mean, I had no idea what I was guarding against. There could be squids in these woods for all I knew.

  The night dragged on, and nothing came down the road. The bats stopped flitting through the sky and the insects all seemed to settle down. It was just me and the gentle snoring coming from a number of different caravan members.

  The moons came up, one after another, looking big and beautiful, and I took more than a few moments to just drink them in. The night sky in this new world of mine was stunning. Zero light pollution means there was an endless display of stars and galaxies twinkling across the black.

  I was bored, and not at all tired, so I started going through the axe motions again. Swing, restore. Swing, restore. Jab with the butt of the haft. I started doing twirls and flourishes. Then I realized I looked like a total tool, and this couldn’t have any positive bearing on actual fighting.

  So I did push ups.

  And pull ups, until a branch broke.

  Stretches, lunges, squats, an entire body-weight exercise. Jumping jacks. It was getting a little cool, so I pulled out my fur coat and slipped it over the leather armor.

  Still on watch.

  I kept moving, working out when I thought of another exercise. Doing the bits of yoga I could remember, anything to keep my mind from starting to wander. I knew, if I let it, my brain would start running through my life on earth. The decisions I made and the path that brought me to Vuldranni.

  Finally, I started working on throwing the giant axe. Sure, not at all what the weapon was meant for, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be successfully accomplished. Definitely super awkward at first, especially considering the unwieldy size of the weapon. Still, I started to get a feel for it, how to release, how to throw and get the blade to hit. How to put power behind the throw and keep it on target.

  And then, out of nowhere:

  Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Large-weapon Throwing. Take that massive weapon and throw it away! +5% accuracy, +5% damage

  I couldn’t help smiling. This weird game world thing I was stuck in had a ridiculous library of skills. It made me wonder how many there might be in total. Maybe there was an infinite amount. I mean, I’d gotten a level in falling.

  I regaled in my new skill for a moment, and then went back to work. I was determined to get a few more skill levels before my replacement woke up and took over. I hefted the big axe up and whipped it over my head. It flew through the air, end over end, and I could practically hear it, whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, until it hit a tree with a satisfying thunk. On and on, I threw the axe until I was getting a solid hit every time.

  Thunk.

  Thunk.

  Thunk.

  My muscles and lungs were burning. I’d managed to really drain my stamina bar. I took a moment to lean on the axe and look around. The sky far to the east had gotten a little lighter, and birds started chirping. It was morning. I’d stayed up all fucking night, chucking an axe.

  I twirled the axe in the air, feeling like I’d managed to get pretty good at it during the hours of darkness. Which made me think about the day-length in Vuldranni. Was it 24 hours? Was the night 12 hours long? Was an hour the same length of time? So far, it’d seemed roughly equal, I mean, at least close as I could tell without any timepieces. Whatever. Questions to ask someone later. At that moment, I figured there wasn’t a long wait until actual morning, so why bother waking anyone else up for watch. I’d just ride it out.

  Finally, I heard stirrings from within the camp. There was a quiet curse, and Teela, the woman, who’d had third watch came running out of the circle, buckling her armor up. She skidded to a stop when she saw me leaning against my axe.

  I
watched her face move through a few variations of confusion before settling back to normal.

  “Morning,” I said.

  “Morning,” She replied, resettling her armor and tightening a few straps. “Stayed up all night?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “No one came to relieve me.”

  A big smile spread across her face. “Follow, fool,” she said, and walked over to the lead wagon. Up by the driver’s position was a large sand timer.

  She flipped it over.

  “One turn equals one watch,” she said. “Timer’s up, you wake the next person.”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling very much like an idiot, “that makes a lot of sense.”

  “How would the sleeper know what time to wake?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I guess you don’t have alarms here.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and pointed over to the wagons.

  “You can nap if you want. I’ll finish out the watch.”

  Chapter 22

  Breakfast was bread, dried fruit, and mystery dried meat washed down with weak mead. Cleeve noticed that I didn’t seem too tired, and he decided I’d best serve the Caravan by taking two watches overnight.

  The guards, myself included, sparred. We basically did a good ol’ practice session while the drivers got the horses hooked up and ready to go. Once we got a solid sweat built up, we did weapons and armor care, sharpening blades, oiling armor, all that doldrum-y stuff they don’t tell you about in fantasy novels. Once we finished, I noticed the drivers were sitting in their wagons, and the wagons were in a line, ready to move out.

  The minotaur went along the caravan, inspecting the lines connecting the wagons and horses, and looking over the horses one more time. And then we took off, rolling down the road, where I got to sit next to Cole and have the most fascinating conversations. By which I mean I’d ask a question, get a single word response, and sometimes a mighty glare if I dared to ask a second.