Never Split the Party

by Ramy Vance

  The chant was sung throughout the night until the last drink was served, and the MERCs stumbled their way to their rooms.

  15

  Suzuki woke in an unfamiliar bed.

  The sheets were rough and hardly covered his body. He sat up, his eyes searching the room, trying to make sense of where he was.

  Stew was laying in the other bed in the room, and Sandy leaned against the foot of the same bed, passed out and snoring loudly.

  Suzuki grabbed his head. He had a headache, and he groaned as he tried to gather his bearings.

  This was Middang3ard, he reminded himself. Suzuki checked the window. He was still in a muddy marshland. It as most definitely still Middang3ard.

  Suzuki turned around and froze.

  There was a shadowy figure standing in the threshold of the doorway. Suzuki scanned the room for a weapon. Then he remembered where he was. He hit his HUD, and his armor rolled over his body. His sword and shield materialized in his hands.

  The shadowy figure walked forward to the sound of clucking chickens. Once he entered the light, Suzuki could see that it was Milos, and he was holding two chickens.

  The dwarf held out the chickens and smiled, “What’s with the sword?”

  “What’s with the chickens?” Suzuki countered as he sheathed his sword.

  Milos walked farther into the room and stopped to chuckle as he looked at Stew and Sandy. “Looks like they had a great night. I don’t usually see humans drink nearly as much as you three did. Looks like you can handle your booze well enough.”

  “On Earth, gin and tonics aren’t anything to mess around with.”

  “I’ll have to visit sometime. After the damned war is over. Which chicken do you like more?”

  Milos held up the chickens to Suzuki. They both looked like fairly regular chickens, although much larger than any chickens he’d seen before. One was a speckled brown color, and the other was a glossy, pure white.

  Suzuki pointed to the white one. “I guess that’s more of a classical looking chicken,” Suzuki said. “Kind of like the ideal of a chicken.”

  “Whatever you say.” Milos released the brown chicken. Then he took out a long knife and placed the white chicken on one of the desks in the room. He held the chicken down and chopped through its neck. He tossed the chicken head and the chicken on the ground.

  Suzuki jumped back as his eyes zeroed in on the splatter of chicken blood on the wall. “What the hell are you doing?”

  The dead chicken was running around the room. It tripped over its own head and skidded across the floor, still kicking its legs in the air.

  Milos stepped over the chicken and went to the fireplace in the room. He shifted through the pantry next to the fireplace and pulled out a pot.

  “I thought humans like breakfast in bed,” the dwarf mumbled as he looked for other cooking tools. “I heard it was considered romantic to most of ‘em. Not that I’m trying to romance you. You ain’t my type. But hospitality is hospitality as far as I’m concerned.”

  Stew cracked his eyes open as he rolled over and pulled the covers up to his face. The headless chicken ran past his bed and into the wall. Stew screamed and snapped bolt upright. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “By the realms,” Milos groaned, “are you all so love-starved that you’ve never gotten breakfast in bed before?”

  The chicken turned and ran over Sandy’s leg, tripped, and fell in her lap. Sandy yawned, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and grabbed the chicken. When she fully opened her eyes, the color drained from her face.

  “Where is the chicken’s head?” Sandy was still clutching the chicken. Her voice was surprisingly calm.

  Suzuki pointed at the door where the chicken’s head lay, its eyes staring at the fire Milos was building in the fireplace. Milos motioned for Sandy to bring the chicken to her.

  Sandy did as she was told, using one hand to hold the chicken by its feet and her other hand over her mouth to hold in the mounting vomit.

  “Thank you, lass. Now we gotta get this little one cleaned, and we’ll have a nice lil’ meal for you whelps. You wanna give me a hand?”

  “Sure,” Sandy squeaked, swallowing hard.

  “Dump him in here.”

  Sandy dumped the fowl into the pot of boiling water. Milos looked into the pot and nodded his approval. He went over to Stew’s bed and sat on it. “How’s everyone adjusting to the whole thing?”

  “Well enough,” Suzuki answered. “I guess. How exactly are we supposed to be adjusting?”

  “Some people leave and go home. One night of being broke in a different realm is more than they signed up for. Others get a little frisky, if you know what I mean. Sharing beds and all that sort of thing. And others decide to flex a little, see what they’re made of. Brawls and shit of that nature. Never a good idea, though. Whelps fighting with whelps is a waste of time, and whelps picking fights with veterans usually ends up with someone losing a body part.”

  “Wait, we can leave?”

  “Get the chicken out of the pot, will you, lass?” Milos pointed to the bag he had brought with him. “There are tongs on the side.”

  Sandy pulled out the tongs and, using them, fished the chicken out of the pot.

  Milos looked at the dripping, headless bird. “She’ll be a tasty one.” Then pointing at Suzuki, he added, “And yes, you can leave. Anytime you like. No one is forcing you to be here. It’s not like we’re abducting you or something. All you have to do is ask your familiar to release you from Middang3ard and you’ll separate. Once your ties to magic are severed, you’ll be whisked back home. We’ll take care of the paperwork. Though, I will tell you, not all of your spoils will make it back to you. The processing office tends to have an interesting idea of ownership when it comes to dropouts.”

  Sandy brought the chicken over with the tongs. It was still steaming.

  Milos lifted the chicken carcass over the pot. “Thank you, Sandy. If I may ask a wee bit more from you, please, dump the water and bring the pot over here. Have you ever done this before?”

  “No. I’m not sure what it is that I’m doing,” Sandy answered.

  “You’ve never made breakfast?”

  Stew chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief. “We’ve all made breakfast before, but our food tends to come in boxes and doesn’t bleed all over our walls.”

  “Well, you all better pay attention then. If you’re gonna be out there, you’re gonna have to figure out how to eat. So here’s a crash course.”

  When Sandy returned with the pot, Milos took it from her and dropped the dead chicken in her lap. “Start defeathering,” he commanded.

  Sandy didn’t ask any questions. She started plucking the feathers off the chicken and dropping them into the pot. She held the bald chicken carcass up when she was finished.

  “Now you’re gonna want to make a few cuts along its arsehole.” Milos pointed at the bird’s bottom.

  “So gross,” Stew muttered.

  “Have you never seen anyone butcher meat before? Where do you think those little hunks of flesh come from?”

  Stew shrugged and picked at his skin for lack of anything to say.

  “Cut up its arse,” Milos repeated.

  Sandy made a few cuts around the chicken’s sphincter.

  “Now you’re gonna slide your hand up its bum and pull out its guts.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Sandy grumbled as her lips curled up into a devilish smile. The color had come back into her face, and she flipped the chicken over and slid her hand up its rear. “Oooooooh, that’s so gross. It’s like fisting a corpse.”

  Sandy whipped the dead chicken around to look at her and moaned in a high-pitched voice. “Oh…your hand feels so good, touching all my organs, lover.” She winked at Stew and Suzuki, who both watched, horrified.

  Milos laughed and slapped his knee.

  “Looks like she’s the only one of you with a stomach and a sense of humor. You can dump the guts out there, lass.”


  Sandy ripped out the chicken’s guts and gizzards and tossed them into the pot. Milos handed her a handkerchief to wipe her bloody hands with. Then he gave her the knife and instructed her on how to properly butcher the chicken.

  Suzuki was paying close attention. Even if he was initially grossed out and deeply troubled by Sandy’s love of tearing out entrails, he knew this was something that he was going to have to be doing at some point.

  These were the parts of quests that were left out in the books and the games. Consequently, he knew nothing about surviving. He had just assumed that there would be a lot of magic involved.

  He guessed there were some things even magic didn’t take care of. Though he found it hard to imagine elves ever butchering their own food.

  Once Sandy had finished degutting the chicken, Milos pulled out a small pouch. He spread a variety of herbs and seasonings on a makeshift cutting board. He seasoned the meat as he explained what each herb was and where it could be found in different parts of Middang3ard.

  Suzuki took notes in a leather-bound notebook that had come with his HUD. Sandy appeared to be losing interest. Stew still watched on with a morbid sort of fascination.

  “Who wants to take care of the cooking?” Milos asked.

  Suzuki raised his hand. He and Milos returned to the blazing fire, and Milos took a pan from the cupboard. He procured some lard from a compartment in his pouch and slathered the pan with it.

  The room was soon filled with the savory smell of frying chicken, basil, and ginseng. Suzuki didn’t think that he’d ever smelled anything so heavenly before. The room could have been confused with a restaurant in Paris from the smell alone.

  “You cook it all the way through,” Milos lectured as he flipped the chicken over. “Make sure you don’t get sick. There we go. It should be perfect.”

  Milos took the chicken from the fire and pulled out a few plates from the cupboard. He served each of the Mundanes and the dwarf and took a bit for himself.

  They ate in silence.

  Suzuki wouldn’t have talked even if there had been interesting conversation. The chicken was amazing. Each of the seasonings popped and brought out a flavor that he didn’t know chicken was capable of possessing. It was a good introduction to Middang3ard cuisine.

  Once they all finished eating, Milos cleaned up the plates, dumped them into the largest pot, hit a button on his HUD, and the dishes vanished.

  Milos patted his fat belly. “Now that that’s done, I’ll have Wendy set you all up with some cookware and supplies before you head out.”

  Stew picked some chicken out of his teeth and flicked it on the ground. “What do you mean ‘head out’?” Stew asked as Sandy turned her nose up at the piece of chicken that landed next to her. “Sorry, babe.”

  “That favor that you owe me. I got a contract a few days ago to clear out some black flies from the swamp. Not too many. Hardly even a swarm from what I’ve been told. Still, the number of black flies is more than these parts are used to, so I got contracted to check it out. It pays a bit, but I don’t really feel like schlepping around for a few hours when there’s plenty of food and drink to be had here. So I had the contract transferred to you. Perfect kind of work for newbs.”

  “Are you serious?” Stew protested. “If you don’t want to go mucking around in the swamp all day, what makes you think that we want to?”

  “Well, you see, I wasn’t really concerned with what you wanted to do. That’s the whole point of a favor. Besides, it’s just the right kind of work for lil’ whelps such as yourself.”

  Sandy turned to Milos. Her eyes had darkened. A storm was brewing across her brow, and she seemed to have grown a couple of inches. She leaned close to Milos so that their noses were almost touching.

  Milos tried to escape, but Sandy just leaned closer, her eyes locking in on Milos’. “I’m not a whelp,” Sandy growled.

  “No,” Milos stammered. “Of course not. How ‘bout this? A couple of copper pieces advance to ensure good faith. How’s that sound?”

  “Good.”

  Sandy’s demeanor returned to normal. She took the copper pieces that Milos offered and pocketed them.

  Suzuki laughed to himself. He had always thought that the tough guy routine Sandy put on while they were playing was hilarious. Seeing it in real life was even better—especially seeing it alongside Stew.

  Sandy was tossing bits of chicken guts at Stew, who was cowering under his covers and yelping for Sandy to stop.

  The good mood was not meant to last, though. Suzuki felt Fred uncoiling in his mind, and his joy almost completely dissipated. “My previous host used to sleep in silk beds and waged wars with the Twelve Mute Mages of Unherial. And now, here I am…sleeping in rags and playing the role of a glorified exterminator with children who don’t even know how to defeather a chicken.”

  Suzuki had had enough. Every time Fred opened his mouth, it was to complain about something or make a snide comment. Suzuki had hoped that the prickly conversations he’d shared with Fred would lighten up. It was obvious by now that Fred had no intention of being personable or even agreeable.

  “If your old host was so great, why don’t you just go back to him,” Suzuki snapped.

  Fred was silent. Suzuki felt him withdrawing deeper into his being. Within a few seconds, it seemed that Fred had vanished.

  Suzuki was glad to have that space of his mind back. He knew, however, that Fred had only retreated into some recess of their shared body. If Fred had left his body, there would have been a much more violent reaction. This situation was tolerable, though. At least Suzuki felt he could speak to his friends in peace.

  Milos stood up abruptly and headed toward the door. “Come on,” he called to the Mundanes. “Let’s get you situated. Don’t want you heading out on your first quest unprepared.”

  The Mundanes finally all got out of bed. Sandy and Stew hit their HUDs and armored up. They all looked uncertainly at each other.

  “Black flies.” Stew groaned.

  “Black flies,” Suzuki repeated. “We gotta start somewhere.”

  The Mundanes followed Milos and marched out of the room. Suzuki shut the door softly behind them as they went downstairs to pick up whatever Milos thought they would need. Wendy, the barkeep, supplied them with basic cooking tools, a map, and vague directions. Then they unceremoniously left the Red Lion and went out into the swamplands.

  16

  The Mundanes had left the Red Lion far behind, trekking into the depths of the swamps. The smell of mold and moss was everywhere, and they slogged through knee-high mud. It was slow going.

  The map they’d been given had only a rough estimate of the area, and it was difficult to gauge the landmarks that had been scribbled in with fading ink.

  Sandy’s familiar, Niv, had suggested that they upload the map to their HUDs to make it easier to track their progress. The upload hadn’t taken long, but the map was still difficult to decipher.

  They got turned around more than a couple of times, but it didn’t really bother anyone. They were all in fairly good spirits.

  Stew and Sandy were talking quietly with each other. Suzuki appreciated hearing the conversation, even if he wasn’t involved. This was the way their party had been since Beth had left.

  Suzuki found that he enjoyed the silence. It gave him time to think, time to anticipate. When they had been playing the VR version of Middang3ard, all of the quiet time had allowed him to make plans and contingencies. Most of them had been jotted down in a notebook that he had brought along with him.

  He wasn’t sure what battle would be like in real life, but he thought this would give him a good framework to work from. Now that he thought of it, he didn’t even know what kind of magic spells he had or could perform. There wasn’t a slot for any on his HUD. Just a readout of his health and mana.

  The sun tried to beam down on the Mundanes through the thick canopy of leaves, but very little sunlight made it down. Still, it was very hot. The air was thick and humi
d. Suzuki felt as if he were wearing a second layer of skin.

  Suzuki cleared his throat to get the other Mundanes’ attention. “You guys hot at all?”

  Sandy and Stew both shook their heads. But it made sense for them. Stew was only wearing an armored kilt and Sandy was wearing robes which looked like they breathed a hell of a lot better than chainmail.

  “Well, hold on.” Suzuki thumbed through his HUD. “I’m going to see if I can pare down what I’m wearing.”

  Suzuki went through his HUD and found a quick description of how to remove some of his armor squirreled away in “inventory notes.” He double-tapped his helmet, breastplate, and arms. His armor glowed bright green, and when it dimmed, he was wearing thinner leather armor. “That’s better.” Suzuki whipped his arms around like windmills. “So much better.”

  “Are you tired at all?” Stew asked.

  “No, why?”

  “You’ve been walking around for a couple of hours in full armor. I don’t remember you being a gym rat back home. Just thought you’d be tired.”

  “Actually,” Sandy cut in, “I thought we would all be tired. This isn’t exactly a cakewalk.”

  “You ever see anyone walk to get cake?” Stew asked.

  “What?”

  “I mean, everyone says cakewalk. But I’ve never seen anyone walk with a cake. Walk to the store to get a cake, sure. But walk with a cake? Never.”

  Suzuki groaned as he continued to examine the map. “How do you get the cake home after you’ve bought it? That’s walking with cake, isn’t it?”

  Stew shrugged. “I’m just saying. Ain’t ever seen anyone walking with a cake before.”

  “Whatever,” Suzuki said, before calling out silently in his head, “Hey Fred, is there a reason that we aren’t getting tired?”

  Suzuki could feel the imp coming to the foreground of his thoughts before hearing the demonic creature sigh. “The composition of Middang3ard is not the same as your realm. Your realm is heavier than the rest of the realms. As a result, you’re generally stronger and faster. Not any more intelligent, unfortunately.”