by Robert Bevan
“Bag them,” said the elf in charge.
More black elves emerged from their hiding places in the trees. Three of them lowered their weapons and opened head-sized woolen bags, which they pulled over the heads of Katherine, Captain Righteous, and Bingam.
The bag fit loosely over Katherine’s head, but breathing was still a chore. Designed to prohibit sight, the threads were woven tight, forcing her to breathe in much of the same air she was breathing out. It didn’t help that the inside of the bag reeked of sweat and vomit.
“We will bring the prisoners to the holding cells. Have Zibon draw up the usual Kingsguard ransom demands for Lady Vivia’s approval. And inform the Lady that I, Stavros Shadowblade, have apprehended Mittens’s killer, and her pet wolf.”
“The prisoner’s pet wolf, sir?” asked one of the others.
“Yes, of course the prisoner’s. Who else’s wolf would I be referring to?”
“Just wanted to be clear, sir. It sounded like you might be referring to Lady Vivia’s pet wolf. The her threw me off.”
“Would it kill you to think before you speak?” said Stavros. “Lady Vivia doesn’t have a pet wolf.”
“You might have meant that we were presenting this wolf as a new pet for Lady Vivia, as a replacement for her recent loss of Mittens.”
Stavros sighed. “I suppose that is not an entirely unreasonable interpretation. You did well to seek clarification. I meant the prisoner’s wolf.”
“I was way off,” a third voice laughed. “I thought you were referring to Mittens’s pet wolf.”
“That’s just preposterous.”
“Yes, sir. I see that now. That’s why it gave me a chuckle.”
“This is exactly why I’m taking charge of the prisoners,” said Stavros. “Can you two idiots be trusted with the task of taking this wolf down to the kennels?”
“Shall we feed him to the deathhounds, or begin his training to become one?” asked the elf in constant need of clarification.
“Just put him in one of the cages for now. His fate will be decided by Lady Vivia, whom I imagine will have more creative ideas as to what to do with him.”
“And the horses, sir?” asked one of the elves behind Katherine. “They’re too big to fit through the tunnel.”
“Lead them off the road and kill them. Chop them up and put the pieces in the Bag of Holding. Help yourselves to the choicest cuts of meat, and feed the rest to the deathhounds.”
A murmur of excitement among the black elves suggested that even more of them had come out of hiding since Katherine’s head had been covered. Captain Righteous had probably suspected as much, which was why he’d surrendered so easily.
“But the Bag of Holding is to be returned to me,” continued Stavros. “And a small dish of horsemeat would not be unappreciated.”
“Of course, sir!” said one of his subordinates.
“I like mine medium rare.”
“You blackhearted fiend!” said Captain Righteous. “Touch one hair on Melody’s beautiful mane, and I’ll tear you apart!”
“Melody? That’s a pretty name. Perhaps I’ll share a piece with you. How do you like your horse?”
“The gods were too merciful when they banished you people from the Light!”
“Hey!” said Katherine. “No need for that.” She turned her head as best she could, without being able to see, toward the black elf leader. “He meant specifically you people who are kidnapping us.”
“No I didn’t!”
“Come on, man. You’re better than that.”
“Perhaps,” said Stavros, “you would be wise to stop bickering and pay attention to your pudgy naked friend. He’s the only one of you who seems to understand the gravity of your current situation.”
The air was silent but for a sniffle and a couple of choked back sobs.
“Mercy of the gods, Bingam,” said Captain Righteous. “Please stop crying.”
Chapter 21
By the time evening rolled around, Stacy, Julian, and Cooper had followed the westward road out of Cardinia through a lot of what Stacy now thought of as ‘conventional’ forest. The farther west they traveled, however, the taller and wider the trees grew. Massive pines left the forest floor carpeted with brown needles as long as her legs and pine cones roughly the size and shape of Dave.
“It’s incredible,” said Stacy, marveling at the magnificence of it all. “Doesn’t it make you feel so tiny and insignificant?”
Julian smiled. “I feel like an ant marching home after raiding a picnic.”
“I feel like taking a dump,” said Cooper.
Stacy stopped walking. Julian gave Cooper a ‘Was that really necessary?’ look.
“Sorry. I thought we were sharing our feelings.”
“It’s fine,” said Stacy. “I’ve got to go too. Men’s room on the right, ladies’ room on the left. Do you need some of those big leaves I collected?”
Cooper shook his head. “Keep them. I’ll just use a fistful of pine needles. It gets kind of rough down there, and those leaves just disintegrate in my hand when I try to wipe. Plus, the pine needles leave behind a pleasant scent to help mask the –”
“A simple ‘no thank you’ would have sufficed.”
The bathroom rules had been established earlier in the day. Everyone got their privacy, but made sure not to wander beyond shouting distance.
Stacy walked around the other side of one of the big trees and swept aside some pine needles with her foot. She unbuckled her pants, and held her balance by keeping a hand on one of the tree’s giant roots. It was an ideal situation to be in when she spotted a wild boar about the size of a short bus. Cooper’s frequent needs to relieve himself ensured that Stacy never had to wait too long for a pee break, but her bladder let go like she’d been holding it in for a week.
A few years ago, she’d witnessed a boar run out of the woods and charge a moving Range Rover for no discernible reason beyond ‘Fuck that Range Rover.’ It popped one of the tires with its tusk, and then ran back off into the woods like it had just needed to blow off some steam. Those things were tough and dangerous. How much more so would a twelve foot long version of them be?
The giant boar was a good forty yards away from her, rooting through some dirt, but Stacy still wrapped up her business as quickly as she could. When she was done, she tiptoed around the tree and spotted Julian and Cooper coming back toward the road from the other side. She waved to get their attention.
“I’m not claiming it’s the end of the world,” grumbled Cooper. “I’m just saying, why isn’t it ever ‘just a fart’ when I’m talking to people?”
When Stacy finally caught Julian’s eye, she waved them both over to her.
“Look,” said Julian. “Stacy wants to show us something.”
“She probably wants to show off the massive log she dropped.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s the case.”
Stacy put a finger over her lips, and the guys crossed the road in silence. When they got to her tree, she pointed at the boar.
“Sweet pig,” said Cooper.
Stacy elbowed him and pressed her finger even more firmly on her lips just long enough to make her point, then whispered, “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Cooper poked his bottom lip out. “Sorry, I don’t know what you... Wait, is today your birthday?”
“What? No!” Stacy couldn’t believe that neither Cooper nor Julian seemed the least bit impressed by a two thousand pound boar. She glared at Cooper. “Are you not awed by the size of that thing?”
Cooper looked back at her with his lips pressed tightly together, like he was holding his breath. Little snorts escaped from his nostrils. More snorts came from Julian’s direction. He was turning blue in the face. They looked like two tea kettles trying not to boil. It was like they were trying not to...
“Is this because I said ‘awed by the size of that thing’? You two need to grow up.”
Julian let himself laugh and his face returned t
o its original color. “I’m sorry. I was just laughing at Cooper trying not to laugh.”
Cooper also released the pressure he’d been holding in, except he did so through the other end. Stacy grimaced. It was a wet one.
“Goddammit,” said Cooper. He bent over and scooped up a large handful of pine needles. “I’ll be right back.” He stomped around to the other side of the tree.
An angry squeal echoed through the massive trees.
Julian’s jaw dropped. “Um... Cooper?”
“Dude, give me a minute. I’m fucking wiping.”
By the time Stacy turned around, the boar was charging straight at her. Its snout was caked in fresh soil and its wild eyes burned with rage. She pulled out her sword, bent her knees, and focused her mind. Timing would be everything.
“Magic Missile!” cried Julian. A golden bolt of magical energy flew out of his hand to further mildly annoy the beast still charging directly at Stacy.
Stacy thought of an aerial diagram showing everyone’s position on the battlefield. Cooper, whose shart had been the catalyst for the boar’s sudden rage, was on the opposite side of the tree from her, putting her directly between him and the boar. It thought she was the one who’d produced the odor which had so offended it. Interesting.
She stepped to her left, spun around, and raked the tip of her sword across the animal’s cheek, neck, and shoulder as it smashed its face hard into the great pine.
“Cooper!” cried Julian. “Hurry the –”
CRASH
Julian had been taken out of the fight by a giant pine cone.
The boar grunted as it thrust its two foot long tusks at Stacy. She dodged and weaved as she backed up, but it came at her even harder. She could use that.
She ducked under its sweeping tusks and jabbed at its snout. The tip of her sword penetrated the soft tissue. The boar reeled back, squealing in pain and rage, and Stacy ran back to her tree.
When the boar charged her again, demonstrating an inability to learn from its past mistakes, she sidestepped the charge once more. But instead of attacking, she hopped up on the beast’s back and grabbed hold of its mane with her left hand, while she raised her sword hand to thrust her blade down into its skull.
The boar bucked hard. Nope. This is definitely a two-hand job.
Stacy let go of the sword and held on for her life with both hands. “COOPER!”
In retrospect, as the furious pig squealed and did everything in its power to throw her off, this felt like a poorly thought out plan. Her high Wisdom score had let her down, and her Strength and Dexterity felt like they were getting ready to fail her as well.
Then it stopped suddenly, still as a statue.
Stacy looked down as she caught her breath. The right side of the boar’s face, from eye to tusk, was coated in a blob of pine needles and greenish-brown paste. Both the boar and Stacy turned their heads toward the tree to find Cooper standing ready with his axe.
The forest filled with a deafening porcine scream as Stacy’s ass hit the ground. She looked first at the two fistfuls of mane she was clutching, then at Cooper bringing his axe down hard on the raging beast he’d just half-blinded with shit.
They slammed into each other like idiots, neither making any visible effort to avoid the other’s attack. Cooper’s axe stuck deep into the back of the boar’s head, but it didn’t even seem to notice as it plowed its tusks into Cooper’s abdomen without even slowing down.
“Cooper!” cried Stacy. She picked up her sword and chased after them.
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” said Cooper. Stacy lost sight of him as the boar carried him behind a tree, but she heard him invoke his Barbarian Rage. “I’m really angry!”
Stacy ran around the tree and got back within visual range of them just in time to see Cooper’s metamorphosis. The added weight from his suddenly increased muscle mass was too much for the boar. Cooper hit the ground and used the boar’s inertia to flip it over himself. The boar’s scream upon landing seemed like a bit of an overreaction to landing on its back on a soft bed of pine needles. Had Cooper hurt its pride?
When the boar got back on its feet, Stacy saw the axe still sticking out the back of its head. Yeah, that would have hurt.
Cooper wasn’t looking so hot either with two tusk wounds bleeding out of his abs. As soon as they were both standing, they charged at each other again, squealing, grunting, bleeding, and drooling. Truly, Cooper had found his equal.
They weren’t far enough away from each other for the boar to get another good gore in. Cooper caught it by the tusk and punched it repeatedly in the snout.
“FUCK! YOU! PIG!”
It looked like a stalemate, but Cooper’s Barbarian Rage had a limited duration. Stacy was sure she could finish the beast off if she could make use of her Sneak Attack power. She approached from its blind side, looking for a path to the heart that didn’t go directly through the rib cage.
When the boar reared up on its hind legs, trying desperately to swipe Cooper with its front hooves, Stacy found her path. She lunged forward, grabbed the boar by its front leg, and drove her blade deep into its fleshy armpit, all the way up to the hilt.
The resulting agonized squeal turned into a wheeze, and blood spurted out of the animal’s mouth. She’d missed the heart but punctured a lung. Not ideal, but hopefully she and Cooper could keep it from ripping them to shreds with its tusks before Cooper’s Barbarian Rage –
“Oh shit,” said Cooper. His voice didn’t sound particularly enraged.
The boar, on the other hand, was as pissed off as ever. It was overpowering them. Stacy grabbed its unclaimed tusk with both hands, letting go of both its leg and her sword. But even with their combined Strengths, the boar pinned them both to the ground.
“Push back!” said Stacy. The boar’s massive head loomed over her, practically vomiting out lung blood at this point.
“I’m trying!” said Cooper. “I’m fucking fatigued!”
The boar was drowning, but not quickly enough. Bloodmist from the beast’s ragged breaths made the tusk slippery in Stacy’s hands. If she lost her grip, the boar wouldn’t need to find an alternative route to her heart. Her rib cage would be about as effective as tinfoil.
The porcine wheezing came to a halt as the giant boar suddenly froze, as if it had just had some life-changing epiphany. Two seconds later, its legs gave out, and it collapsed harmlessly on top of Stacy and Cooper.
Stacy squirmed out from under the boar’s head, then withdrew her sword from its armpit. She looked down at Cooper. “Are you okay?”
Cooper lay back in the pile of pine needles that had resulted from the boar’s advancement. He was covered in blood. “Define okay.”
“Hey!” said the boar. It’s voice was a little muffled, but positively eloquent for a dead pig.
Stacy frowned. “Is that normal?”
Cooper groaned in pain as he sat up and shoved the boar’s head sideways by the tusk. “Define normal.” He wrapped his hand around a cluster of black feathers sticking out of the eye socket and pulled.
“Gently!” cried Ravenus.
Tail was followed by talons, then wings, head, beak, and finally a long dripping trail of optic nerve.
“Thanks for stealing my kill, you Kamikaze asshole,” said Cooper.
Ravenus slurped up the rest of his meal and shook the gore from his feathers. “Would it be out of line to request giving the other eye a rinse?”
“Holy shit!” said Julian, awake again and on the scene. “Cooper, are you okay?”
“No thanks to you losing a fight with a goddamn pine cone.”
“Oh come on. You can’t blame me for that. Did you see the size of that thing?”
Cooper winced as he laughed. It must have been excruciating with two tusk holes in his gut, but he just couldn’t help himself.
After a pause for thought, Julian started laughing too.
Stacy shook her head. “Unbelievable. It wasn’t funny the first time.” But that only made Cooper laugh ha
rder, subsequently causing him more pain. Her resistance eroded, and it didn’t take long for her to succumb to the contagion as well.
Chapter 22
Desperate times call for desperate measures. And when a person’s desperate enough, there’s only one place to go. Arby’s.
Going on what Dave had overheard Professor Goosewaddle’s acquaintance boasting about a few days earlier combined with the fact that the Whore’s Head Inn’s most recent prisoner had mentioned a place called the Crescent Shadow, the remaining inhabitants of the Whore’s Head Inn placed their bets on the only lead they had, however much of a longshot it was.
Business had slowed down since Cardinia’s only fast food restaurant had opened, but Dave was surprised to see a line of people waiting outside the open door. It was nothing like opening week, but old Goosewaddle must have done something to get business booming again.
Somewhere in the stink of a crowd of people and vaguely humanoid creatures in a world where deodorant had yet to be invented, Dave identified the familiar scent of Arby’s roast beef. His stomach longed to be filled with the sweet taste of home.
“Should we wait in line?” asked Chaz.
“Nah,” said Dave. They were VIPs at this place. “When you think about it, Goosewaddle owes his success to us. Besides, we’re not here to eat. We just need to –”
“Uh uh!” Jennifer, the recently promoted manager of Arby’s shoved her way through the line of customers at the front door and wielded a broom at Dave and his crowd. “Nope, nope, and double nope. You freeloaders are cut off. Do you hear me? Cut. Off. Go on back to wherever you came from.”
“But we’re VIPs,” said Dave. It felt so douchey to say out loud.
“You’re V.I.Shit, Department Store Santa. I can’t turn a profit with you mooching lowlifes occupying all the tables and helping yourselves to free soda refills.”
“Are the soda refills free?” asked a lizardman waiting in line.
“NO!” Jennifer snapped back at him.
Chaz stepped up next to Dave. “Hey lady. We just want to talk to Professor Goosewaddle.”
