Gordan of Riss and the Malformed Sprite (A Madcap Fantasy Adventure Book 1)

by Ryan Drake

  One of the strangest was the city where human sacrifice wasn’t just known, it was common. A spell of bad weather and they sacrificed a virgin. A fire in a pasture and they might sacrifice two. A flood might call for half a dozen sacrifices, and it wasn’t unheard of for a sacrifice to be made to bless a wedding. The people there were very scared, and prone to losing their virginity early.

  But that’s another story. Suffice it to say, I’d seen my share of strangeness, and there’s one thing that held true between them: they all thought their way was normal.

  So when the barkeep said that Brelor village would turn on anyone who transgressed where the villagers thought they shouldn’t, I believed him.

  That said, believing the barkeep was one thing. Acting on what he said was another. The way I figured it, I’d come a long way to find the Fracture, and from what Gabby had said, I was close. To not follow it through would have meant all the trials I’d endured up until then were wasted.

  So for the next couple of days I left Max happily drinking his way to oblivion in The Puking Orc and headed to the one place I thought I could count on tongues wagging freely: the central market.

  Every town or village of any size has one. Brelor’s wasn’t as busy as many I’d seen, but it was lively enough with stallholders hollering about their various wares to anyone and everyone they saw, haggling in loud voices with customers keen to bargain, and suspicious that their neighbors would do all they could to beat them to any free coin. My type of place, I thought, and remembered another market not so long ago where I’d created such havoc that I attracted the attention of the town guard as well as an angry mob.

  This time, I was more circumspect. I filched only those few items I knew I could get away with, bargained honestly (with pilfered coin, I’ll admit) and asked questions only when I thought I could get away with doing so.

  The answers were much the same as I’d received in the tavern: blankness, furtiveness, or antagonism. The blankness was no help to me, so whenever I met it I quickly moved on. The furtiveness was more promising. These people I pushed, but without any luck. They were mostly too scared of any repercussions to offer me anything. The antagonism was more difficult to deal with. In these cases, I apologized as genuinely as I could and tried to smooth things over.

  I didn’t know that my efforts were being noted and that my smoothing over wasn’t as much of a success as I might have wished.

  On the second day I began to notice a change. Merchants started whispering among themselves and glancing towards the mountains. I followed their gaze and saw nothing more sinister than a dark cloud hovering over one particular spot. It seemed to roil around on itself and from time to time I could see sparks of lightning. I mentally gave a small shrug. It was only a cloud, I thought, forgetting that the barkeep at The Puking Orc had spoken of just such a cloud as part of his warning.

  I never noticed the suspicious glances that many of the whisperers cast my way.

  Later, something happened that I did notice. I was bargaining with a vendor for a hat made for a doll but which I thought Max might like when I caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eye. Someone small, wearing a very dark robe. Someone who ought to have been miles away at the very least. If not dead.

  “Thork Yurger?” I said out loud.

  “Huh?” the merchant replied.

  “Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “Oh. Now about that hat, it’s as fine a piece of craftsmanship as every there was…”

  I finished the bargaining quickly. I probably paid a little too much, but what did that matter when it wasn’t my money? The stuttering assassin was more important. Why was he here? Had he somehow followed me? I didn’t think it was possible. And yet….

  I resolved to make sure.

  For the next several minutes I made my way through the market much as I had before, but kept a sharp eye out for anything amiss. And then I saw him again, watching me from an alley.

  I paused to examine some baubles and the merchant hurried over, but instead of listening to his spiel I studied Thork Yurger in turn. It was definitely him, I decided. Sure, the robe hid many of his features, but he was small enough to be unusual. And he had a way of standing and moving that suggested a stutter. Somewhere about his person there was probably a small crossbow if he’d replaced the one he’d lost amongst the orcs.

  What should I do? I wondered. If I ignored him, sooner or later he would try to kill me again. And while I’d replaced a few of my weapons since arriving in Brelor, I hadn’t yet found any armor. If I tried to hide, he would probably just find me again, and this time I mightn’t notice he’d done so. He’d found me before, several times; tracking was something he actually seemed to be good at.

  That only left a more direct approach.

  So thinking, I finished my bauble examination and walked casually through the market, heading steadily closer to Thork Yurger and his alley at the same time as trying not to look like I was heading in any direction in particular. I’d cut the distance between us by about half before he moved, and all he did was sink further into the shadows.

  Perhaps he didn’t yet realize I was now following him. Well, he was about to find out. I judged that I’d closed the distance enough. Instead of continuing my casual walk, I broke into a run and reached the alley in no more than a dozen quick strides.

  “Aha!” I cried, hoping to startle him. But Thork Yurger was no longer there. I looked quickly about and saw the edge of a dark cloak disappear around a corner. I charged after it and caught another glimpse of him before he turned down yet another alley.

  I cursed under my breath. It seemed tracking wasn’t the only thing he was good at. Running away was another of his talents.

  But I wasn’t slow either. So I ran, keeping him just in sight and trusting mostly to luck that he wouldn’t be clever enough to wait around a bend and fill me with crossbow bolts before I could dodge.

  I was gaining. Of that I was sure. Where before he’d been maybe twenty paces ahead of me, I’d cut that distance down almost by half.

  “I’m coming for you!” I called out. In a strange way, I was starting to enjoy myself. “I’m getting closer! I’ll catch you soon!” I yelled, fully expecting to do so within the next couple of minutes.

  Thork Yurger didn’t respond. He simply darted around another corner. I followed hard on his heels.

  Then I stopped dead in my tracks.

  I’d learned another thing about Thork Yurger, and I have to say my opinion of him had never been higher. As well as tracking and running, he appeared to be pretty good at setting traps. While the only thing on my mind had been to chase him down and maybe beat him to within an inch of his life once I’d caught him, he’d been purposefully leading me directly towards a mob that looked set for business.

  As you know, I’ve had a bit of experience dealing with mobs, and I’ve learned how to gauge the danger they represented. The mob back in Ulm was little more than a group of angry merchants bound together through the shared experience of having me upset their lives for a moment. Weaponless, goal-less and not used to fighting, they’d been about as dangerous as a large flock of geese. Sure, an unlucky peck to your most delicate region might have left you writhing on the ground for a bit, but other than that, it’d be like beating at you with a bag full of feathers.

  This one was quite different. Nearly fifty strong, they looked determined more than angry, and very capable. Nor were they weaponless. Far from it, in fact. Clubs and spears were common among them, as were pitchforks and meat cleavers. I can’t say I was surprised to see the barkeep from The Puking Orc there. I recognized him at once. He held what looked like a cross between a cleaver and a broadsword. It was a weapon that any orc would have been proud to carry into battle.

  I didn’t like the look of them at all. Nor was that because they were ugly. Most of them were, but one or two would have passed muster in a beauty contest. Nothing compared to me
of course, but they’d have to be something special for that.

  Anyway, this mob looked resolute and primed for murder. Thork Yurger stood with his crossbow aimed and ready to fire. He was puffing a little. At least I’d made him work for it. But he looked at me with the satisfied grin of certain victory twisting his visage.

  “You were warned,” grunted the barkeep. “But you didn’t listen. And now the cloud’s back over his palace. You’ve made him angry.” He grinned through his beard. “We can’t have that,” he said, and the mob surged towards me with growls of anticipation coming from those in front and cries of “Get him!” emanating from the back.

  “Um,” I said, once more showing off my sparkling wit when times were desperate. “I’ll just be leaving now, if you don’t mind.”

  But apparently they minded. I’d only just started to turn away when something heavy hit the back of my head, staggering me. “Ow, sod it!” I said. “That hurt!” And then something else hit me again. Or perhaps it was the same thing. I didn’t know.

  The world went black.

  23

  Pyre

  “Gordan,” said a voice.

  Gabby? No, Gabby was still on the Demesne. It couldn’t have been her. I lost interest and did my best to go back to sleep.

  “Gordan,” it came again.

  It sounded like it was from right in front of my face. I wanted to shoo the speaker away, but for some reason I couldn’t move my arms. Not that that worried me overly much. I was starting to get used to the feeling.

  “Gordan!” This time it came with a small thump to the nose. Not enough to make my eyes water, but enough to pique my curiosity. “Yeh’ve gotta wake up!”

  For the first time I realized I could hear others as well. It sounded like a crowd of people moving and talking and calling out. Was I still in the market?

  “So help me, if yeh ’adn’t’ve broke me sword, I’d stick it right up yer nose if it’d wake yeh!”

  Half expecting a sting, I wasn’t surprised when I felt another small thump, this time on my left cheek.

  I opened my eyes and saw Max hovering in front of me.

  “Did you just kick me in the face?” I asked thickly. “Because I have to say, if you do that again it’ll put a serious strain on our friendship.”

  Surprisingly, he grinned at me. “Yeh’re awake! Good thing too, I reckon, ’cos they’re gonna light it pretty soon.”

  Light it? I wondered. My head hurt as if someone had bashed it with a club. I turned my neck, wondering at the stiffness, and blinked to clear my sight. Then realized it was dark aside from the light cast by the moons and a few dozen torches. Gradually becoming more aware of myself, I realized that my hands were tied to a post at my back. No they weren’t. They were chained, complete with manacles around my wrists. I was standing on a small platform balanced on top of a pile of wood that was growing as a handful of men added to it.

  Deeply concerned but not yet understanding why, I asked Max, “What’s happening?” For some reason, there was a tightness in my chest like I’d only felt once before.

  He looked at me critically. “Best get yer head back into workin’ order right quickly,” he replied. “Yeh ain’t got much time.”

  I looked past him for the first time and saw that I wasn’t exactly still in the market as I’d thought. Sure, I was in the same general area, but instead of being in the midst of it all, I was in what looked like a fairly large area of open space. Or at least, it would have been open space had it not been filled with villagers, all of whom were looking my way and most of whom wore eager expressions on their faces.

  “Max,” I said, my throat suddenly dry. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “Yeh sure yeh want to know?”

  “Max!”

  “Ok, ok, settle down. It’s like this. Yeh got the villagers all riled up about somethin’, an’ they’re set to burn yeh to death.”

  So it was like that, then. The barkeep had mentioned three possible outcomes of looking for the Fracture. It didn’t look like I was going to be run out of town or locked up.

  As if to confirm what Max had said, the crowd started to chant. “Burn him, burn him, burn him.”

  I tested the chains but found them to be disturbingly tight and strong. “And you woke me up for what?” I asked Max. “So I could enjoy the experience more?”

  He looked positively hurt. “Sorry,” he said. “I jus’ thought yeh might like a chance to escape.”

  I felt a brief moment of hope. “What do you have in mind? Do you have some way to get rid of these chains?”

  “Burn him. Burn him. Burn him.”

  “No, not me. I thought maybe yeh’d figure somethin’ out yerself. Yeh’ve been pretty good at it ’til now.”

  So much for that, I thought. “Well, thanks anyway,” I said. “You know, I bought you a hat today. To replace the one you lost earlier. I don’t know where it is now.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess,” he said.

  “Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!”

  It sounded as if the crowd was working itself up into some sort of frenzy. If I was going to do anything about this dreadful situation I was in, I’d have to do it now. The trouble was, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I might do.

  I suffered a moment of weakness. “Um, Max?” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You wouldn’t mind hanging around for a while, would you? I mean, I don’t really think I want to die alone….”

  “Yeh’re kiddin’, right?”

  “Of course I am,” I said, even though I hadn’t been. I sighed. “You’d best be away. It looks like they’re about ready to do something.”

  “Burn! Burn! Burn!”

  “Yeah. All right, then. Well, I can’t say it’s been all good knowin’ yeh, but it sure ain’t been dull.” He hovered in front of me for a moment longer, as if unsure what to say or do. In the end he just gave a nod, said, “See yeh,” and flew away, leaving me to my own thoughts, the crowd of villagers enthusiastically chanting, and the uncomfortable feeling in my own chest.

  I barked a sudden laugh, startling one of the men who was still adding wood to my pile. I stuck my tongue out at him and he frowned but said nothing. Maybe the feeling in my chest was an incipient stream of fire. After all, Max and Gabby both agreed that I’d somehow burned down The Rancid Pusball. And maybe I was close to unleashing another such burning stream soon. I’d laughed because while it had sort of helped me last time, I couldn’t figure out how breathing a jet of flames would help while the villagers around me were trying their best to burn me at the stake.

  “BURN! BURN! BURN!”

  As if in answer to some signal, the men adding wood to my pile stepped back. They were done. Almost immediately, someone I recognized stepped away from the crowd carrying a torch. He stopped no more than half a dozen paces from me.

  He held the torch up as if it were a scepter of power and the crowd became quiet. It was the barkeep, although he now held himself with an air of confidence he’d lacked at The Puking Orc.

  “Any last words?” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. It all seemed slightly stylized, as if these people were simply acting in a play or attending a religious rite.

  “Well yes, actually,” I said. “First of all, I have to say that I’m not overly impressed with the hospitality of your little town. I mean, it’s not as if I did anything really bad. Just asked a few questions. And what’s the punishment for that? Being burnt at the stake! Seriously, what is wrong with you people?”

  Ok, so I hadn’t exactly hoped for an instant release, but I did expect it to make some sort of impact. But I got nothing at all.

  “Is that it?” asked the barkeep.

  “Not by a long way,” I said, even though I didn’t really have anything else to say. Then I decided to just go with whatever came into my head. “You know, you’re not a very bright lot, are you?” I said. “In fact, I’ll go furt
her. You’re all morons, idiots and imbeciles, without a functional brain between you. What did your ancestors do? Did they fornicate with their cousins and other close family members? Are you your own uncles and grandfathers? How many of your offspring are born with three heads? Do you drown them at birth, or do you serve them up to their brothers and sisters for dinner?”

  It seemed that I’d hit a nerve. Everywhere I looked, faces were turning bright red with anger. No longer was it all quiet, either. People were giving vent to their outrage in whatever way they could. Some threw insults. Others squabbled with their neighbors. Still others shook their fists and growled.

  I grinned at them. What could they do about it? They were already planning to burn me alive.

  Time to turn the screws. “You are idiots,” I repeated as loudly as I could, “Because you’re doing this because you think some scary man living on a nearby mountain might not like the questions I’ve been asking. A man who isn’t a lord or a king, and who is rumored to have the ability to give you a bad case of warts. I mean, come on!” It seems I’ve got an unhealthy knack of enjoying myself when I really shouldn’t. I was actually having fun!

  And, incredibly, it seemed to be working. Some of the anger had faded from the faces I saw, to be replaced with uncertainty.

  “Why would you do it? Why should what this man wants matter to you at all? Does he threaten you? If so, tell your King! That’s what he’s for!” I had another thought. “Or is it your choice to burn random strangers on a pyre? Have you invented this man as some sort of justification, so you can hold your head up high once you’ve committed such horrible crimes?”

  There was even more talk and doubt. If I could just continue a little longer, I might even turn it around.

  “You should all be ashamed of yourselves—”

  “Enough!” someone yelled.

  At first I thought it was the barkeep, but a glance showed him to be experiencing the same doubts as everyone else. The uncertain muttering lessened but didn’t stop altogether.