Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  Captain Righteous's brows furrowed in confusion. “A necromancer?”

  “I reckon my friend here has her facts mixed up,” said Randy. “She might have had too much to drink. Katherine most certainly did not run off with a necromancer. She and some friends had an errand to run is all.”

  “You say she was here an hour ago. Where did she go?”

  “She went to the –”

  “Hey!” said Denise. “Shut your mouth, Randy. We don't know this guy from a donkey's nutsack. All we got is his word that his intentions with Katherine are noble. I know my rights, Captain. And unless you got a warrant, we ain't gotta tell you shit.”

  Randy strongly suspected that Denise had no idea of what rights she currently had.

  “Very well,” said Captain Righteous. “If you will not assist me voluntarily, we can make it a matter of official Kingsguard business.”

  “Bullshit, Captain Blueballs. Chasin' tail ain't no official Kingsguard business.” Denise leaned in so that the bar hefted her breasts up. “Besides, if you're lookin' to park your cruiser in a restricted zone, you can join me down in the cellar.”

  The captain's face remained stern, showing neither interest nor disgust at Denise's proposal.

  “Your nonsensical turns of phrase and peculiar mannerisms are evidence enough that you do indeed belong to the group of miscreants the lady Katherine associates with. But my business, in the official capacity, has not to do with Katherine, but with her brother.” He brushed aside his gold cloak and pulled a worn piece of paper from a pocket of the leather satchel he wore underneath it. When he unfolded it, Randy immediately recognized it as one of the wanted posters he and Denise had convinced the king to post all over the city.

  “How did you know they was brother and sister?” asked Randy.

  “She told me as much.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “Do you question the lady's integrity?” Captain Righteous challenged Randy with his sharp tone and penetrating stare.

  “No, that ain't it. Just most folks around here seem to have a hard time wrappin' their heads around it, on account of them being different races and all.”

  The captain's face relaxed as he broke eye contact with Randy. “It would not be wholly honest of me to say that I did not require some convincing.”

  “That's a mighty bold strategy you got there, Cap'n,” said Denise. “After all the trouble she just went through to get her brother raised from the dead, I don't reckon you showing up and arresting him is gonna get her knickers slicker.”

  “I assure you, my intentions are purely professional.”

  Denise took another swig from her bottle, then belched. “They better be, 'cause Tim and Katherine ain't together anyway. Last I heard, Tim's workin' his way up the ranks of some group called the Rat Bastards.”

  Captain Righteous clenched his fist, crumpling Tim's face in his hand. “That is most unfortunate news.” He sighed. “And yet somehow unsurprising.”

  “How's that?” asked Randy.

  “Many strange things are afoot these days.” The captain narrowed his eyes at Randy. “And somehow or another, they seem to keep leading me back to you people.”

  “Queers?” said Denise.

  Randy shot her an annoyed look.

  “Most queer indeed,” said Captain Righteous. “I spoke earlier of escalating tensions between feuding rogues' guilds. It is the Rat Bastards who have been lashing out at rival guilds most aggressively as of late. I can hardly think it a coincidence that this Tim has recently become an active member.”

  Denise choked on her stonepiss. “Hang on. You think Tim's a queer? I reckon you got your wires crossed somewhere, Cappy. He may be a knife-happy little psychopath, but I believe he at least knows which holes to poke his pecker in.”

  Captain Righteous didn't strike Randy as a man who often found himself at a loss for words, but he stared at Denise now with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

  “Hush your mouth, Denise,” said Randy. “He means queer as in strange. He's talkin' about the situation, not necessarily Tim himself.” He turned to Captain Righteous, hoping he had correctly assessed his meaning. “Pardon my saying so, sir, but it don't strike me as particularly queer for a gang to lash out at its rivals.”

  The captain nodded. “True, there are occasional flareups among criminal organizations. Such villainous lowlifes would slit the throats of their fathers if it meant seizing more power or widening their territory. But the Rat Bastards appear to be employing the use of some new kind of weapon to disastrous effect.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small suede pouch, similar in size to Frank's dice bag. “These were extracted from the bodies of fallen rival guild members.” He upturned the bag, and its contents clinked onto the bar.

  Denise frowned. “Nine millimeter slugs. It would appear that colored feller was telling the truth.”

  “Colored feller?” said Captain Righteous. He sounded hopeful for a lead, but puzzled by the term.

  Randy gave Denise a disapproving look. “I think she's referring to the necromancer she mentioned earlier.”

  Captain Righteous stroked his mustache in deep contemplation as if trying to put the pieces together. “And this necromancer is raising an undead army of uniformly tiny slugs?”

  “That is correct,” said Denise. She grinned, then swigged back some more stonepiss.

  “Denise!” Randy snapped at her, then turned to Captain Righteous. “I'm afraid you don't understand.”

  “It is true,” said the captain. “There is much I do not understand. What are the necromancer's intentions with the slugs? How does Tim fit into all of this?” He stopped at the bar. “And what are these misshapen lumps of metal?”

  “Captain Righteous, sir. I reckon you'd better sit down.”

  The captain nodded, seeming to comprehend the gravity of what Randy was about to dump on him. “I share in your reckoning.” He sat rigidly in a chair, as if any form of relaxation was unnatural to him.

  “Denise,” said Randy. “Would you mind passing over a bottle of stonepiss and two shot glasses?”

  “Please,” said Captain Righteous. “I must maintain a clear mind.”

  Randy took the bottle and glasses Denise provided, set them on the table, and filled both glasses. “It's there if you change your mind.”

  Over the course of the next couple of hours, Randy explained their situation to the best of his ability, beginning with what little he knew about the Caverns & Creatures game, and his best understanding of what went down with Mordred and the magic dice. He followed that with the story of how he, Stacy, and Dennis got caught up in the mix. Captain Righteous downed his first shot of stonepiss when Randy got to the part where Tim accidentally cut Dennis's balls off. Denise seethed and threatened to never speak to Randy again. But once he'd begun talking, Randy was compelled to tell the whole truth.

  Finally, he brought them home with a lesson on guns and the sorts of slugs which had earlier been alluded to. Denise failed to make good on her threat, unable to keep herself from correcting him on the finer details of firearms.

  “And the necromancer?” said Captain Righteous, pouring himself another glass from the nearly empty bottle.

  Randy shook his head. “There is no necromancer.” Before the captain could argue, he made an effort to put the conversation back on course. “Did you hear everything I just told you?”

  Captain Righteous put down his glass, still looking as sober and serious as ever. “Your story was very entertaining.” His gaze flickered toward Denise. “Most of it, anyway.”

  “It weren't meant to be entertaining. I told you all this on account of there are a lot of lives on the line.”

  “Indeed there are, and yet you waste my time with this preposterous fantasy about me and my entire world being figments of some deranged lunatic's imagination.”

  Randy was frustrated with himself for not being able to sell the true story, but felt the captain wasn't pulling his weight as
a listener.

  “I don't give a hoot if you believe me or not, Captain. But you've seen firsthand what kind of power these weapons have.”

  “That much is true,” said Captain Righteous, staring solemnly at nothing in particular. “I cannot deny what horrors I have seen with my own eyes.”

  “The longer you let this go unchecked, the more of them horrors you're gonna see.”

  Captain Righteous rose to his feet. “I shall look into the matter.”

  “If you can take Tim alive, I'm sure Katherine would be mighty grateful.” Randy knew that the captain didn't need that pointed out to him, but he wanted to gauge his reaction.

  “I will take what measures I can to apprehend him alive, but I will not risk the lives of my own good men to spare the life of a criminal.” With that, the captain took his leave.

  Chapter 5

  Neither Julian nor Chaz were particularly noisy walkers, but their footsteps echoed loudly on the otherwise silent Cardinian streets.

  “Are we headed anywhere in particular?” asked Chaz. He had a certain whininess in his tone, which made Julian already start to miss Stacy.

  “We're going back to the Crescent Shadow.”

  “Have you forgotten that it's a flying island which teleports randomly around a big-ass desert?”

  Julian could see where this was going but allowed the conversation to run its course. “No.”

  “Do you feel like we're adequately prepared for such a journey?”

  “I can summon some horses once we get outside the city.”

  “Can they fly?”

  “No.”

  “Can they teleport?”

  Julian sighed. “No.”

  “Can they detect the location of flying islands?”

  “I understand your concerns,” said Julian. “I don't know exactly how we're going to get back up there. I figured we'd get as close as we can and take it from there. If you've got any better suggestions, I'm willing to listen.”

  Chaz took his lute out of his new and colorfully decorated lute case and strummed the strings. “Before in the desert we wander, our thoughts we shouldn't squander. I suggest we stop and think, lest we die with nothing to drink.”

  Julian stopped in his tracks, wondering why this brilliant yet simple and seemingly obvious idea hadn't occurred to him. He spun around to face Chaz. “I love that idea!”

  Chaz broke eye contact with him as he put his lute back in its case. “I thought you might.”

  “Are you quite all right, sir?” asked Ravenus, flapping down to perch atop Julian's quarterstaff.

  Julian offered him a reassuring smile. “Never better.”

  “I only ask because I heard something that sounded like the wailing of a dying cat from over this way, but I see nothing of the sort.”

  “That was probably just Chaz,” said Julian, supposing Chaz's singing might not sound as pleasant to Ravenus, who couldn't understand the Common Tongue. “He just came up with an ingenious plan for getting us back up to the Crescent Shadow. And for some reason, he chose to sing it to me.”

  “Oh.” Ravenus peered suspiciously down at Chaz. “What is this plan, if you don't mind me asking?”

  Julian beamed up at him. “We're going to think of a plan.”

  “Okay, stop,” said Chaz, looking mildly annoyed at Julian. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “Of course not. Why would you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Ugh!” Chaz closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I honestly can't tell if you're speaking genuinely or doubling down on the sarcasm.”

  Julian felt bad for Chaz. He clearly had some self-esteem issues. “You've got a good head on your shoulders. I know the other guys don't always appreciate your input, but I personally find it very enlightening.”

  Chaz sighed. “I'm going to continue this conversation like you're being serious. But I want you to know that if this is sarcasm, you're being a huge dick right now.”

  “I couldn't agree more, and I'm completely serious.”

  “Fine, whatever. Let's get thinking.”

  Julian licked his lips and rubbed his palms together. “Right! Here we go. Let's start with the obvious. How did we get there last time? Stacy, Cooper, and I rode up on a giant beanstalk, but we won't be able to replicate that without Katherine's Decanter of Endless Water. How did you get up there?”

  Chaz shrugged. “Dave and I got Goosewaddle to teleport us there.”

  “You are on fire tonight!” said Julian. “There's our answer. Let's pay the professor a visit. We can even grab some Arby's while we're there.”

  “I don't think so,” said Chaz. “Dave and I used up the last of Goosewaddle's goodwill. In fact, he strongly suggested that he didn't want us to come back at all... ever.”

  “He might have just been having a bad day or something.” Julian cocked an eyebrow debonairly. “Maybe a little Diplomacy could put us back in his good graces.”

  Chaz pursed his lips in consideration. “Maybe.”

  “And if that fails, you can try to cast a Suggestion spell on him with your new magical lute.”

  “Can he?” said Ravenus. Julian felt a strong sense of suspicion coming from him.

  “Is Arby's even open this late?” asked Chaz.

  Julian shrugged. “There's only one way to find out.” He looked up at his familiar. “Hey, Ravenus. Do you remember Professor Goosewaddle's restaurant? The one with the big glowing sign that looks like a hat?”

  “The place with the curly fries?”

  “Yeah, that's the one.”

  “The refuse pile in the alley next to it was home to some delectably obese rats last time we visited.”

  Julian frowned. “That's lovely. Can you fly up and see if you can spot the sign from here?”

  “As you wish, sir.” Ravenus launched himself into the air and flew upward in a tight spiral.

  “So...” said Chaz, breaking the silence which had just grown much heavier.

  “Should we keep thinking while we wait?” asked Julian. “I mean, just in case the Goosewaddle thing doesn't work out.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We could try to find a ride on a pegasus.” This was actually Julian's initial idea, stemming from all the random pegasus activity he'd witnessed last time he was on the island. He hadn't wanted to say it aloud, fearing it sounded too stupid, but as long as they were just spitballing, the bar for quality ideas was low enough to throw this one out there.

  “Or we could look for a different wizard to teleport us,” suggested Chaz. “Falling from that island really nurtured my fear of heights. I'd much rather skip the ascension part altogether if possible.”

  “Teleport spells are expensive. We don't have that kind of money.”

  Chaz looked down at his feet. “I've given it some thought. If it comes down to it, I might suck a dick.”

  Julian didn't know how to respond to that. Changing the subject would be even more awkward. Fortunately, Ravenus returned to steer the conversation away from sucking dicks.

  “I've located the restaurant, sir.”

  “Excellent work, Ravenus,” said Julian. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 6

  Cooper felt bad for Stacy as they walked single file toward the building at the end of the street she'd pointed out to him. With the help of the Hair Clip of Disguise, he had taken on the form of Joe Versus the Volcano era Meg Ryan, so his low Charisma score was manifesting in other ways, mostly via his ass.

  Shallow Grave lived up to its reputation as the shittiest area of Cardinia. Even the Collapsed Sewer District, where the Whore's Head Inn was located, had kind of a make-the-best-with-what-you've-got vibe, but this place was like the opposite of that. The boarded-up storefronts, buildings abandoned mid-construction, and cobweb-riddled dead trees lining the cracked sidewalks gave it more of an air of quarantined failure.

  “It's so impossibly bad,” Stacy whispered from behind him. She was wearing her Cloak of Elvenkind, which made her difficult to spo
t, but not completely invisible. “How do you live like this?”

  “My Charisma is what it is.” Cooper didn't have to worry about the green-cloaked man standing guard by the front entrance seeing his lips move, as Stacy insisted he make a scarf covering his mouth part of the illusory disguise. “If I want to keep this nice set of titties, I'm going to get a little more gassy. That's just the natural order of things. These people don't know me. You could have disguised yourself with this stupid hairclip, and you wouldn't have to hide in my ass-wake.”

  “You're less threatening-looking this way,” groaned Stacy. “We'll have the element of surprise.”

  As they drew closer to the dingiest building in the dingiest neighborhood in the city, it occurred to Cooper that Stacy hadn't really fleshed out her plan to him.

  “What am I supposed to say to this guy?”

  “You don't say shit,” said Stacy. “I'll do all the talking. That's why you're wearing the scarf.”

  Cooper thought for a moment. What the hell did him wearing a scarf have to do with her talking? How did she expect to stay hidden if she was talking?

  Nabi sighed in his head. She is pretending that you two are one person. The guard cannot see your lips move, so he will think her voice is coming from your mouth.

  “That's pretty clever,” said Cooper.

  “Shh!” said Stacy. “Just try not to fart.”

  Cooper clenched his cheeks and tried to pass off the change in his walk as a sashay.

  The guard leered at Cooper. “How do you do, good lady?”

  “How do you do?” Stacy replied, which was fortunate because Cooper had forgotten she was there.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of such a beautiful vision on this otherwise dreary night?” The guard licked his lips as he glanced left, then right.

  “Oh you're too much, you little charmer you. I was just shopping for some gifts, and I hear this is the best gift shop in town.”