The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  The door slammed shut. I heard the unmistakable clinks of a very heavy lock snapping into place.

  A small hatch slid open, and some eyeballs peered in at me. Grey Robe again.

  “Hey man,” I said, “why don’t you just ask?”

  “A man,” Grey Robe said, “even one as you, will not likely divest himself of his inheritance if he is just asked.”

  “My inheritance? Who wants the land, huh?”

  He smized, then slammed the hatch closed as well.

  The room was dark. Very dark. Just a thin strip of light squeaked under the door.

  “You guys got dark vision, right?” I asked.

  “We do,” Skeld said.

  I flipped that mental switch, and the room came to light.

  “All right,” I said, “we need to take inventory here.” I patted my pockets and checked my pouches. “I’ve got a bit of gold and a bit of silver.”

  “I got a dagger,” Ragnar said.

  “As do I,” Skeld added. “And some coins.”

  “I have some hard tack,” Ragnar said.

  “Two biscuits,” Skeld said.

  “Well, I have a fishing line and hook.”

  “I have bait.”

  The two Lutra were getting closer, face to face, staring each other down as they pulled various bits and bobs from their persons.

  “Not a competition here, gents,” I said. “We gotta work together. And pretty sure we’ve got basically nothing useful here. Look around the room, see what past occupants have left us."

  "Are you expecting to find the bag?" Ragnar asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m optimistic we’ll get the bag back. Philomon didn’t exactly seem trustworthy, but he did believe in honor and paying debts. Biggest problem: I don't think this was his plan. I think Valamir found out about us quickly—”

  "Or you."

  “Sure, or me, and he wanted to question me."

  "I don’t think," Ragnar said, "Valamir is the one behind this."

  I blinked. Ragnar had just used a contraction. I wondered if my style of speech would spread further. And if that would be a good or bad thing.

  "And why is that?" Skeld said.

  "Because the grey-robed man said something about you taking land that was not yours. Makes me think, and this is just postulating,” Ragnar started to pace back and forth, "makes sense someone wanted the Coggeshall Dukedom for themselves, but you got it first."

  "Northwoods," I said.

  Ragnar just shrugged in reply. "I would not say he is without suspicion."

  I felt anger course through me. The cold kind of rage that was always behind my stupidest mistakes. I wanted to find Northwoods and rip his fucking head off. My hands were clenched so tight I could feel my nails digging into my palms. I wanted to break something. I looked at the door, and I even managed to take a step towards it before realizing I had to play this smart. There were more people who were depending on me here. Pointedly, Nikolai. If I just broke the door down, I'd be forced to fight my way through the prison. That would definitely mean killing a lot of people, people who were just cogs in the machine doing their jobs. And that was no way for me to build a relationship with my closest neighbor city. I had to be sneaky and smart, my two worst skills. Realizing that only made the desire to break things even stronger.

  The manacles seemed like a reasonable place to start. I wrapped the joining chain around my wrists, over the actual manacles, and started pulling. Harder. And harder. The weak link in the chain started to unbend, until it failed rather spectacularly, shooting out and ricocheting off the wall. With my arms free, I stretched out, and got the blood flowing again. Despite breaking the manacles, I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to break more.

  I jumped up, grabbed the chains, and started climbing.

  "Is this a thing we should be asking about?" Skeld asked.

  "No," I snapped back.

  The climbing itself felt amazing. There's something almost magical about climbing with just your arms. I'd always been too heavy to do more than one pull up, and I'd never climbed the rope in gym class. But here, in my new body, climbing was easy. Effortless. Almost fun. I got to the ceiling and did a little peeking around. The dark stone bricks were flat and regular. Whomever had done the construction on this place was remarkably skilled. Still gripping the chain, I flipped upside down.

  "Uh, boss?" Ragnar asked, looking up at me.

  "Move," I shot back.

  I got my feet planted and pushed, getting my arms out straight so I could pull the chains out of the ceiling. At first, nothing happened. I just strained. But just as I was about to give up, there was a very slight pop, and that was that. Those damn chains were coming out of the ceiling.

  I reset, getting a little more bend in the knees. Then I gave it everything I had. Groaning, straining, feeling that glorious burn in my legs, my arms, and across my whole body, blood rushing into my head.

  A sharp crack rang out as the stone block split in two, releasing the heavy metal eyebolt. Then the chain, the ceiling, and I went crashing to the ground.

  I hit hard enough to cause some damage to myself. It hurt. A lot. I lay there on the ground, feeling the pain, but also feeling that rage subside. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest means of dealing with the issue, but at least I hadn't done something truly stupid.

  Ragnar and Skeld were both looking up, totally ignoring me on the ground.

  "What are you two looking at?" I asked.

  "Light," Ragnar said.

  It took a moment to roll over so I could look up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a bit of light leaking through. I’d pulled down a fair amount of ceiling rock, plus the long length of chain, and had exposed the floor of the room the floor above. And that floor was wood. The wood was cut into boards, long and thin, the diametric opposite of what had been in the Murdered Bishop. I had to wonder if that was a result of the giant trees being so close, here, in Osterstadt, having massive wood available, the thin strips would be a sign of luxury, that more work had been done to the wood. A singular chunk, on the other hand, that’d be something you might get as leftover from an actual project. I made a mental note to ask some native Osterstadter once I had a free moment.

  There was just enough of a gap between the floorboards that I could see a little bit of friendly orange candle light, or maybe firelight, peeking through.

  "Well shit," I said. "We might have a way out of here."

  "How are you going to climb back up there?" Skeld said. "What with, you know, having ripped the chain out of the ceiling so subtly.“

  "If I hadn't ripped the chain out, we wouldn't know there was a wooden floor up there, numbnuts," I shot back.

  "Weren't we working together, as a team?" Ragnar said.

  "Does that mean you're volunteering to go up there?"

  "How would I climb?"

  "You'd fly."

  "I know we Lutra are a new species to you, but flight is not one of our—“

  I picked Ragnar up and threw him straight up.

  There was a bit of a surprised yell, but then he hit the ceiling. My aim was slightly off, and he dropped, unable to catch hold of any of the joists above. I managed a graceless catch on his way down, and he promptly bit me.

  So I dropped him.

  "You bit me—“

  "You threw me—“

  “Look at this teamwork,” Skeld said, not even trying to contain his furry smile.

  "You shut your mouth," I snapped back.

  Chapter 108

  Tossing the otters up into the air wasn't exactly the easiest thing. Neither of them were happy about it, and neither of them were great at flying. Or being thrown. There were flailing limbs, missed catches, and a lot of cursing. I had to heal Ragnar twice, and after that he refused to do it anymore.

  Eventually, though, Skeld managed to get two tiny daggers into the floor boards, and himself wedged between the stone bricks of the ceiling and the wooden p
lanks of the floors. From there, I tossed the chain up to him over and over until he snagged the eyebolt. Then it was time for him to work on getting it wedged in place until it could hold me. That took another few tries, and me falling on my ass a bit. Finally, it was in place. Skeld slid down the chain and threw himself down on the ground, absolutely exhausted. Ragnar didn’t look much better.

  I realized I needed to do a little better remembering that other creatures didn’t have the luxury of my limitless stamina.

  “You guys rest, and, uh, listen at the door,” I said. “Let me know if someone is coming.”

  “At which point you will do what?” Skeld asked from the ground. “Pull the chain down so we have to do that all over again?”

  “Let’s all hope I’ve got a better plan should the need arise.”

  A quick scurry along the chain, and I got myself up against the wood floorboards. The tiny Lutra daggers were comical in my hands, but they were made of metal, and they were long enough that I could slide them in between the joists and the flooring. That gave me just enough leverage to pop the floorboards up. Not much, but enough of a start to work at making a hole for me to scurry through.

  It was a long and involved process, one that was rather joyless. I kept stubbing my fingers against metal and wood. My hands were littered with splinters. But eventually, I managed to get enough space that I could fit my arm and some of my head through to the room above.

  The room seemed designed primarily for comfort, like a staff room for the guards or the torturers to relax in between drawings and quarterings. There were comfy-looking chairs arranged in a sitting area with a plush carpet. An armoire leaned against the wall on the other side of the room. No one was in there, but it was clear the room was only recently vacated. The fire crackled and popped as newly placed logs caught flame, and smoke curled from a pipe resting on the table.

  Judging the how much of my body I’d squeezed through the hole I’d made in the floor, I figured I could continue prying boards up and out for a few hours so my whole self could get through, or I could send one of the boys up to see if that was worth my time.

  “You two well-rested?” I asked.

  “No,” came the inevitable reply from Ragnar.

  “I can do it,” Skeld said, sounding tired himself.

  “I can do it,” Ragnar snapped back. “I just was being honest and saying—”

  “Hey,” I snapped, “one of you scamper up the chain and go through the hole.”

  Down below, the two played their little game, and Skeld won. He pointed up. Ragnar dutifully climbed up the chain and over me before he slipped through the hole into the room.

  “What do you want me to do?” Ragnar asked.

  “Look for anything useful. Like keys.”

  He nodded, and was off. Those guys could really move when they wanted to. He scrambled around the room, opening and looking into everything. I could hear his feet across the floor, but I couldn’t exactly track him around the room without shoving myself through the hole again. This was definitely one of the downsides to being as large as I was. I had the feeling a normal person would be able to get through. But that was a problem I’d managed for a long time, even back on Earth I’d often been too big. I heard Ragnar opening up the armoire and rooting through it.

  “Robes,” he whispered.

  “Grab ‘em.”

  A heartbeat later, I was hit in the face with a bunch of grey fabric.

  I let it drop to the ground, figuring Skeld could take care of it.

  Then I heard what I’d been dreading. Footsteps outside the door to the room upstairs.

  “Cover the hole,” I hissed. “I hear someone.”

  Ragnar, not quite the sharpest otter in the shed, grabbed the carpet near the seating area, and pulled it over the hole. Which left him upstairs. But it did do a pretty solid job of covering up the hole.

  I heard the armoire door open and shut.

  A creak as the main door opened.

  There were some mutterings, but I couldn’t quite make out what the person was saying. Something about blood and the need for better uniforms.

  And then, he stepped into the hole. The carpet dipped down, further and further until I had to move out of the way as a body appeared in front of me. Well, a carpet-wrapped body. The thick carpet eventually reached the limit of the hole, and the figure was stuck, my guess, about chest high.

  The body struggled for a second, but then it stopped with a suddenness. Given where the carpet was bunched up, I could only imagine it was around his ribcage. He tried to yell, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs.

  More struggles.

  “Ragnar,” I shouted.

  The body went still.

  “Stomp on him from above,” I shouted.

  The armoire door opened, and there were some definite sounds of surprise from the figure in the rug, and the sound of someone’s face being stomped on. Grunts. Groans. But no real movement.

  “He’s totally stuck,” Ragnar said.

  “Well shit,” I said. “Watch out below.”

  I jumped and wrapped my arms around the figure in the carpet.

  We hung there for a Wile E. Coyote moment. Then there was a whoosh as the thickest part of the carpet came through the hole and we dropped.

  The two of us made a solid thump against the floor. And it probably would have hurt a lot, you know, if I’d been on the bottom. Instead, there was a kind man in a carpet who took the brunt of the blow.

  I rolled off him, grabbing the carpet and pulling it open. There was an older man inside, wearing a grey robe. His eyes went wide when he saw me, and his mouth struggled to make words while blood trickled from his ears.

  “What’s up?” I asked with a smile.

  Chapter 109

  Our new friend wore the same grey robes as the asshole who’d put us into the cell, but he wasn’t the same dude. This guy had at least a modicum of dental hygiene.

  Mr. Cleanish Teeth blinked a few times, trying to figure out what was happening. Then his eyes focused on me, and he seemed to realize what had happened.

  “You,” he said, hissing it out.

  “Yep,” I replied. “Me.”

  “What have you done?”

  “Improvised?”

  He tried to get up, but it seemed like he’d broken his arm in the fall, and it crumpled under his weight. He grunted with undeniable pain.

  “Let me,” I said, reaching out.

  “No—“ he snapped, fear coming out.

  He thought I was going to hurt him even more. And to be totally honest, that was my initial plan. I was actually thinking I’d force the bone out of his skin and stab him to death with it, but, long term, would that really be the best play here? Ultimately, these dudes were just doing their jobs, fucked up as the jobs may be. I’d been saying that quite a bit lately, but I was trying to think of the long term effects of my actions. If I was going to set up a city nearby, I’d need to keep relations reasonably friendly with Osterstadt, and cutting a bloody swathe through their correctional facilities wasn’t going to get things off to a good start. Fun, sure. But not smart. I knelt and put my hand on his arm.

  “What are you doing?” he snapped, trying to snatch his ruined arm away.

  I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. I willed myself to be the bigger person, and not just physically. Instead, I sent my healing spell into the man. There was a spread of warmth from my hand, but despite the magic I’d poured in, I could feel the man’s arm and the bones in his forearm were still apart.

  The man groaned in pain.

  He grimaced in my direction, making it quite clear that he found me repulsive.

  “You lack the proper spells to heal,” he said through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes, muttered something, and glowing runes appeared around his head before settling around his arm. I heard a soft snap as the bones fused together, and the man finally let out a sigh of relief.

  The light dimmed above, and I saw Ragnar scuttling
down the chain.

  “You hide the hole?” I asked.

  “Naturally.”

  “With?”

  “A table.”

  “Better than a sign I suppose,” I said. There wasn’t a chance in hell someone would miss the fact that a large table had been moved to cover a massive hole in the floor and that the big carpet was missing.

  Ragnar just shrugged.

  “It was a mistake doing this,” my captive said. “There was a chance you could have walked out of here a free man, and now—”

  “Dude,” I said, interrupting him, “you and I both know that’s a lie. You all are involved in some shady shit, and personally, I’m feeling y’all have reasons to want me dead.”

  The man was silent while he looked me up and down.

  “Who are you?” he finally asked.

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head.

  “The duke?” I offered. “The one who—”

  “Stole the land.”

  “Well, now there we’ve got to disagree, but at least you’ve heard of me.”

  He nodded, giving a sad sort of smile. “It would appear you have run afoul of someone with power and money.”

  “Would that be a Lord Northwoods?”

  “I fear I am unable to tell you that.”

  “Unable or unwilling?”

  “In most cases I would be both. But you have me puzzled, my lord.”

  “I seem to do that to people.”

  I got to my feet and shook my limbs out. I did a little jumping around. The cell was cool, bordering on cold, and I didn’t want my muscles to seize up. I figured it was going to be quite some time before I got any rest.

  “Let me ask you this,” I said, “you got keys to this place?”

  “To the prison? Of course I do.”

  “On you?”

  “Yes, but they will do you no good.”

  “And why is that?”

  “They are magically attuned to me. They will only work with my hand on them.”

  “What if I took your hand with me?”

  He paused. “You intend to cut my hand off?”

  “I mean, you could just come with me.”

  “Despite your kindnesses, we are currently on opposing forces, so you would need to kill me—”