Go Quest Young Man

by K. B. Bogen

  “Never a doubt.”

  “Oh? Is that why your voice was squeaky a few minutes ago?”

  “Me? Squeak under pressure? Never. I keep my armor well-oiled at all times.”

  The warrior the captain had summoned turned out to be Lariyn. She poked Erwyn in the ribs. “Get going.”

  “Must be a different suit of armor than the one you were wearing when we met.” Grumbling, Erwyn hurried to catch up with the captain, with Chesric only a step behind.

  They followed Lariyn to the captain’s tent. It had to be the captain’s. It was about three times the size of any other tent in the area. Besides, it also sported a huge sign that read “Captain’s Quarters.”

  The outside flaps of the tent were adorned with hunting scenes. Nice stuff. There were horses, lions, gryphons, brave victors, and fallen heroes.

  Erwyn noticed there were no men. On either end of the sword.

  By the time they entered the tent, the captain had removed her cloak and armor, leaving only a leather underkilt and cloth tunic. She sat facing them across a small wooden table upon which she laid her sword. An unmistakable message.

  The inside of the tent was decorated like the outside, but with battle scenes in which Marlian warriors fought with vaguely masculine forms. There were no distinct figures other than the women. Except for one panel.

  Behind the captain was the only recognizable male form he had yet seen, on or off the canvas.

  The figure wore a black cloak edged in silver, his hood pulled up so that little of his face showed. In his hand he held a small golden pyramid, which seemed to glow in the flickering light of the tent’s single torch. There was something about that figure, something familiar, if he could just place it.

  Erwyn shook his head to clear it. Taking the seat offered him, he tried to smile confidently at the captain.

  “If we’re just going to have a friendly little chat, we should introduce ourselves.”

  She didn’t look like she was there for a “friendly little chat,” but Erwyn rushed on anyway.

  “My name is Erwyn and this is my friend Chesric.” He kicked the old man, who stood gaping at the panel behind the captain.

  “Uh ... pleased to meet ye.” Chesric glared at Erwyn.

  “I am Kerissa, First Captain of the Marlian guard,” the captain said formally. “Now that we have the amenities over with, tell me what makes you two different from any other men around here. I hope your answer is a good one. Your lives depend on it.”

  I’d Rather Be Selling Carriages

  Can You Say Sucker?

  “WHEN HANDLING DELICATE NEGOTIATIONS, ALWAYS KEEP YOUR GOAL FIRMLY IN MIND AND NEVER LET YOUR OPPONENT GET THE UPPER HAND.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Three: On People and Their Influence

  Kerissa sat with one hand resting casually across the hilt of her sword. As though she had all the time in the world, the Marlian captain watched Erwyn shift uncomfortably in his seat for a while. She seemed to be enjoying her advantage. Her expression reminded the boy of one of the cats back home. In the barn, watching the mice.

  Erwyn looked to Chesric for help, but the old man offered only a brief smile of encouragement. Then he crossed his arms and rested his chin on his chest.

  Erwyn waited for the inevitable sound effects. Fortunately, the old man had the grace not to snore in the face of the enemy.

  Finally, Erwyn cleared his throat, trying to think of where to begin. “Well, uh ... ”

  “Can ye tell us just why it is that ye don’t get along with members of the male persuasion?” Chesric jumped in before Erwyn could get started. He didn’t even open his eyes.

  Erwyn squirmed. They were supposed to convince Kerissa to let them live, not ask tactless, embarrassing, and possibly fatal questions.

  After a few moments, the captain replied, “You already know we are warriors of Marli. If you know that much, you must know more.”

  Erwyn tried to appear unconcerned. “I heard once about a group of women who called themselves Marlian warriors, worshippers of the goddess Marli. A story told to frighten little boys, that’s all.”

  “You don’t appear to be very frightened. Are you?”

  “Scared to death.”

  “You must be a very accomplished actor.”

  “Required course. Acting Superior 101. ‘How to Appear Calm, Cool, and Collected When the World is Disintegrating All Around You.’”

  She sighed. “Okay. Let’s try again. I’ll assume you know nothing about us or what’s going on.” She didn’t sound convinced. In fact, she sounded like she expected them to lie to her.

  The captain clasped her hands on the table in front of her. After a moment, she continued in the kind of voice one used to lecture very young, very stupid children. The kind of voice his father used to state the obvious to someone who insists on being ignorant. Erwyn had been the recipient of more than one of those lectures.

  “We come from Senderlaan in Terregonia. We worship Marli, the Enlightened One. Only a woman can enter the temple of Marli. Therefore, all Marlian warriors are women, and strange stories have been told about us. Many of them untrue. For nearly a century, we have fought alongside our men in times of war. As equals.

  “Now, we have come into this strange new land where the customs are different, alien to us. We have come against a wall of male prejudice. It’s bad enough being in a strange land, without being treated like we were less important than cattle!”

  Kerissa glanced from Erwyn to Chesric and back again.

  Erwyn gave her his best blank look. Which wasn’t difficult, since he had no idea what she was talking about.

  The captain looked at them in confusion. “You’re not from around here?”

  “No,” Erwyn replied, “in fact ... ”

  “And you don’t know anything about this?”

  “No, but ... ”

  “You mean to tell me you’ve just been blundering blindly around without knowing anything about what’s going on in the neighborhood?”

  “Well ... ”

  “Then you really are a fool. It’s dangerous enough trying to survive when you know the territory.”

  “Now wait just a minute! I’m only a journeyman sorcerer. What do you expect? They send us out without much of anything in the way of supplies or information.” Same old defense. He wondered what it would be like when he became an old man and still used ignorance and inexperience as excuses.

  “If I hadn’t run into Chesric here, I’d very likely have to spend the next four years mostly alone and virtually defenseless.” That was a little closer to the truth than he really wanted to admit.

  “If you’re a sorcerer, you’re not exactly what I would call defenseless.”

  “I said ‘virtually,’ and that’s the way it feels. Does the phrase ‘I’m making it up as I go’ mean anything to you?

  “And if what Chesric has told me is anywhere near the truth, I couldn’t actually be alone if I wanted to be. I never know just who or what I’m going to run into. Or whether the spells I have are truly adequate for the job.

  “So far, I’ve been chased, bewitched, tricked, picked on, and spied upon. Not to mention being kidnapped by a bunch of heavily-armed women who seem to be intent on killing me just because I had the misfortune to have been born male! Speaking of which,” Erwyn took a deep breath and brought the conversation back to its original subject, “what did you mean, ‘less important than cattle’? Less important to whom?”

  “The men who live here.”

  “Where here? You’re camped in the middle of an open field.”

  Kerissa glared at him. “I mean in Perbellum. It’s a town a short distance from here.”

  “Now, wait just a damn minute! You mean the women there are treated like,” Erwyn paused, shocked, “like property?”

  “That’s basically correct.�
��

  “But how can they do that?”

  Erwyn rose indignantly and suddenly found himself surrounded by several very sharp knives that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  “Oops.” He sat down ... fast.

  The knives disappeared. Erwyn noticed a half-dozen women milling about the tent. Funny, they hadn’t been there before.

  Erwyn was beginning to feel a little like a mushroom ... very much in the dark. “I don’t get it. You can’t be recruiting. I mean, cattle don’t usually grow up to become warriors. And it doesn’t sound like a good place to settle down. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She wore that cat-and-mouse expression once more.

  Kerissa smiled and again gestured to someone behind Erwyn. The room emptied as the rest of the women vanished out the door. Leaning back in her chair, the captain relaxed.

  Somehow, Erwyn didn’t feel any safer.

  “A few months ago, a sacred talisman was stolen from the Temple of Marli at Senderlaan. All of the guards were killed save one.” Kerissa leaned forward, toying with the hilt of her sword. “I was that guard. I have pledged my life to finding the talisman and returning it to its rightful place.”

  “So you’ve just been chasing across the country looking for the person who took it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “Yes. We even know where he is.”

  “I have a feeling I’m going to hate myself for asking this but, why haven’t you recovered it yet?”

  Kerissa smiled for a second time.

  Erwyn began to develop an intense dislike for that smile.

  “Because the slime-ball who has it is holed up in the good town of Perbellum, that’s why.”

  “So where is Perbellum?”

  “Not far. About two miles west of here.”

  “And you can’t get the talisman out.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  Erwyn sighed. He was being led and he didn’t like it even a little.

  “Okay, let’s cut to the punch line. Perbellum is the center of the unflattering opinion they hold of women around here and they won’t help you, because you’re all women. Right?”

  “Right on the first try. They don’t particularly want the creep around, but they’re not about to let us have him. The last time we tried to haul him out, I lost three warriors. They lost four. Stalemate. Fortunately, they don’t seem inclined to carry the battle too far outside the city walls.” She paused. “Or maybe that’s not so fortunate. It is, at best, difficult to fight anywhere near the city.”

  Erwyn resisted the urge to ask why. Instead, he muttered to himself, “Here we go again,” and threw a quick glance at Chesric. He hated volunteering for anything, especially when someone else forced him into it.

  The old man didn’t move. As far as anyone could tell, he was asleep.

  Taking a deep breath, Erwyn asked, “So, uh, Captain, would you like some help in retrieving this, um, talisman?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” That was the second time she’d said that.

  The captain looked immensely pleased with herself.

  Erwyn felt a little sick.

  “Let me get this straight.” Erwyn looked cautiously around before leaving his seat. He stared at the painting behind Kerissa for a while before continuing. “In order to save our lives, Chesric and I have to walk into a hostile town where you’ve already lost three perfectly good warriors, and force the townspeople to turn this guy over to us.” Erwyn turned to face the Marlian. “What’s to keep us from continuing out the other side of town?”

  “Well, first of all, there is only one way into or out of Perbellum. And second, it won’t be you and Chesric. Just you.”

  He missed the chair on the way down.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Erwyn paced the floor of the tent they’d been given. He just wanted to get the job over with. But Kerissa insisted that it was too late in the day to get started. So, in spite of Erwyn’s protests, the companions were fed well and told to rest.

  After dinner, Chesric had dropped into a sound sleep instantly, as usual. After a while, Erwyn gave up pacing and lay awake on his bedroll staring at the ceiling of the tent.

  If a troop of heavily-armed warriors, regardless of their sex, couldn’t drag the thief out of Perbellum, what could one inexperienced man do? He couldn’t think of a thing.

  As dawn broke through the morning haze, Erwyn still hadn’t come up with a workable plan. Chesric lay snoring happily on the opposite side of the tent.

  A rustle at the entrance brought Erwyn out of his reverie. He sat up in time to see Lariyn enter with a platter of cold meat, cheese, and fruit.

  “Ah, breakfast!”

  Erwyn turned to his tent mate and found Chesric wide awake, nose twitching. He could sleep through anything but mealtime.

  The old man rose and helped Lariyn settle the plate onto a small table which had been tucked away in a corner. “Won’t ye join us?”

  Lariyn shook her head. “I have work to attend to.”

  Before Chesric could insist, she disappeared through the entry. The two adventurers fell to eating. That is, Chesric did. Erwyn wasn’t very hungry.

  After breakfast, Lariyn returned to take them to the edge of the camp, where Kerissa awaited their arrival. In full battle dress.

  Erwyn wondered who she was trying to impress.

  “So, the moment of truth is at hand.” Kerissa watched the young sorcerer with interest.

  “Uh, could you tell me just how you expect me to accomplish this, er, task?”

  “The manner is entirely up to you,” the captain replied. “It should be simple for a man of your ... qualifications. Especially considering the price for failure.”

  “You make it sound so easy. Frankly, I’m a little nervous, considering our lives depend on whether I can talk a bunch of belligerent bullies into turning the guy over. They can’t help but know that I’ll just give him to you after I leave.”

  “Then you’ll have to persuade them.”

  “Right. Persuade them. Sure thing. No problem.” Shaking his head, Erwyn turned in the direction Kerissa said Perbellum lay. He had two whole miles to figure out a plan. And he had to walk the whole distance.

  You Can’t Tell a Book by Its Cover

  Or a Latrine by Its Smell

  “PERSONALITY-ALTERING SPELLS CAN HAVE A NASTY EFFECT ON EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING IN THE VICINITY.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Three: On People and Their Influence

  While he walked, Erwyn savored the scent of the first wildflowers of spring. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been on his journey. More than half a year.

  Unfortunately, the journey wouldn’t last much longer if he didn’t figure out what to do about the Marlian’s thief.

  He was still trying to decide when he caught his first sight of the town of Perbellum. In the golden glow of the early afternoon sun, the town seemed, well, downright dismal.

  Small, compared to the rambling cities Erwyn knew, Perbellum was squashed uncomfortably in the valley formed by three smallish mountains. Or perhaps they were largish hills. He couldn’t honestly remember what the difference was.

  The houses and buildings were surrounded by a high stone wall that crowded its contents. From his vantage point across the valley, Erwyn could see only one main gate facing him. If there were any other gates, they must be crammed right into the face of the hills. Or else they opened out onto the river that wound between the hills. Neither option was very helpful.

  The stone of the walls was gray and dirty, with here and there a block gone, like a missing tooth. Perbellum sat hunched over its badly tilled fields like a bully waiting for someone to fight.

  Well, no help for it. He slowly trudged toward the gate, picking h
is way carefully through the brambles which crowded straggly patches of wheat and barley. There was no love lost on this land, he decided.

  The wildflowers were left behind, and so was their scent. Instead, the enticing aroma of raw sewage drifted toward him.

  As the young sorcerer approached the gate, he discovered that the town wasn’t in the terrible state he had first thought. It was worse. Much worse.

  The gate sagged on its hinges, ready to fall at the slightest touch. Fortunately for Erwyn, it was already open, so he didn’t have to touch it. He’d already decided that levitation was out. He had no intention of advertising his tendencies in the magic department unless, and until, it was absolutely necessary. Adjusting his cloak to cover his Guild patch, he stepped through the gateway.

  “Oh, no!” The moan escaped before Erwyn could stop it.

  And he had thought the outside was bad! Nowhere could Erwyn see the inhabitants of the town, but evidence of their existence assaulted him.

  Refuse littered the streets and sidewalks. The houses slumped on their foundations, as though the stench was too much for the old stonework to bear. Erwyn brought a hand up to cover his nose.

  “’Ere now. ‘Oo’s this?” The voice was not particularly friendly, in Erwyn’s estimation. “Wot you doin’ ‘ere, mister?”

  Erwyn turned to the source of the question. Younger than Chesric, but not by much, the owner of the voice was a grizzled old man who hadn’t shaved in weeks. Or bathed for even longer.

  Erwyn’s nose wrinkled in disgust. The man’s odor was stronger than the garbage in the street.

  “I ... I’m here to speak to your mayor, or king, or whatever.” He couldn’t help backing away from the man.

  “Oh, yew are, are yew?” The man smiled, showing rows of rotting teeth in swollen gums. He took a couple of steps toward the boy.

  Erwyn gulped, but stood his ground.