by Ramy Vance
Wyatt laughed and slapped his kneecap, wincing from the pain. He was starting to look livelier. “You don’t look like you weigh any more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. You fought your way through that hell hole and rescued us?” he asked.
Suzuki smiled, aware for the first time of how confident he was. He had fought his way through the Dark One’s defense ring to save Beth. Weeks earlier, he had killed orcs, giants, and Christmas monsters to save Beth. He had wooed a dragon to save Beth. He’d devised a plan and snuck through the entire prison, a place where he would have been killed within minutes if he’d been caught, all of that to save Beth. “Yeah, I did,” Suzuki said, pulling at his loose-fitting tunic. “I’m a lot more impressive looking in armor.”
Suzuki raised his right hand. His ax came whooshing into the room, landing squarely in his palm. The ax’s blade was still covered in blood. “This is the ax that all of Middang3ard is learning to fear.”
“All right, all right, slow down, kid. No need to get all medieval on me. I was just busting your chops. I really appreciate the save. I know Beth does. She was practically drowning the cell with how wet she’d get every time she brought you up. Most of the boys have been waiting for weeks to meet this ‘brave and fearless’ Suzuki, the warrior mage who was going to kill his way to our safety.”
Beth’s face flushed and she turned so that she didn’t have to look Suzuki in the eyes. “I just knew you were going to come for me,” Beth explained.
Suzuki smiled, feeling even more proud and confident. “You weren’t wrong, were you?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Wyatt sat up more and rubbed his face. “No, no, she wasn’t. Which, all jokes aside, is extremely impressive. What you MERCs did in a few weeks was something the military wasn’t capable of accomplishing. Your team must be huge. How many of you are there? A hundred? Two hundred? I can’t imagine how many of you it would have taken to storm this place.”
Suzuki shrugged and smiled uncomfortably. “Uh…there’s seven of us,” he said.
“Are you fucking telling me you freed a hundred soldiers and us in the heart of the Dark One’s defenses with seven fucking MERCs?”
“I mean, it hasn’t been a walk in the park.”
“Beth, you undersold your boyfriend.”
“I’m not her—”
Beth put her hand over Suzuki’s mouth. “I didn’t want to talk him up too much. No, sir, we’ve uncovered intel about how the Dark One is controlling the different races.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve been finding out firsthand. But refresh my memory. It might be helpful to hear words about what my body’s been learning.”
Wyatt swung his feet over the side of his cot. He took a deep breath and then jumped out of bed. He wobbled. Beth reached out to help him steady himself, but he pushed her hand away. After tottering like a poorly-built skyscraper, Wyatt stood up straight. “Let’s hear what the MERCs have to tell me. We’ll go from there.”
14
It was difficult to tell what time it was while nestled deep in the Dark One’s reintegrated mountain, but Suzuki thought that it was close to evening. It felt like evening to him at least. This would be the time that most of the MERCs would be returning from their missions and quests. They would be singing, dancing and drinking, celebrating the fact that they were still alive, still trying to fuck up the Dark One’s vile plans for Middang3ard and the other realms of elves, dwarves, halflings, and humanity. Suzuki hadn’t really thought about it much, but he missed the Red Lion, the MERC hub that all the mercenaries congregated to when they had off time. The Red Lion had started to feel like home. Not a home away from home or a stand-in until he found someplace better. It was an actual home.
The feeling must have been mutual to all the MERCs.
While Suzuki had been waiting for Wyatt to come to, the Horsemen and the Mundanes had done everything in their power to make the cavern where they were all recouping as close to the Red Lion as possible. When Suzuki walked outside of Wyatt’s tent, following Beth and Wyatt, he was surprised to see how much had been done to change the former grimpon cave into a drinking establishment that would have made the Red Lion’s owner, Wendy, proud. The walls had been decorated with flowing red sashes that were emblazoned with the de facto MERC insignia, a roaring lion. A few rows of tables had been set out and were lit by candles. Tankards of ale sat on the tables beside plates.
Sandy had rigged a display of pure magical creativity to hang over the tables. She had gathered a bunch of sticks and strung them together, enchanting them to float and lit them on fire so that it looked to the naked eye that a bonfire had conjured itself into existence. Diana and Sandy were talking quietly about the little bit of flair.
All of the soldiers had risen and were sitting at the tables. None of them looked much the worse for wear; the most severely wounded was Wyatt, who even now, at the sight of the tables and the display of ingenuity that filled the cavern, was already starting to look less weak. He still needed help walking, though, leaning on Beth as Suzuki pushed ahead of them, to guide them to a seat with his fellow MERCs.
Beth helped Wyatt into his chair and turned to speak to Suzuki, saying, “How come I haven’t seen Sandy and Stew yet?”
Suzuki pointed over to the corner of the cavern, where Stew and Sandy were now waiting. “They wanted to give you some space to, you know, get used to not being tortured in a prison,” Suzuki said. “But they want to see you before we sit down, you know, to get all the mushy shit out of the way so that your friends don’t have to see it.”
“I don’t give a fuck who sees it. Come on.”
Beth took off running toward Sandy and Stew. She tackled Sandy to the ground, wrapping her arms around the tiny mage then lifting her into the air until they both fell down, screaming and giggling. Then she clambered off of Sandy and threw her arms around Stew, struggling to get them all the way around his muscular back. “Holy fucking shit,” Beth shouted. “I thought I was never going to see you guys again!”
The hugs hadn’t been enough. They all stood around, each aware that there was much that they wanted to say, but not certain of where to start, of what was most important. Sandy hadn’t intended on beginning the outpouring of emotion, but she was the first one to start crying as she grabbed Beth and embraced her. Through her tears, she managed to choke out, “I thought you were fucking dead. I thought this was all just some fucked up circle jerk of a mission because I thought you were dead and I am so fucking glad that you aren’t. I’m so fucking glad.”
Sandy and Beth stopped hugging and Beth faced Stew, who was also crying softly. “Oh shit, you too,” Beth said as she wiped her face.
Stew nodded somberly. “The tears of a warrior are the purest. They hide no guilt, no shame. They are only emotion, pure and unfiltered. That’s from The Art of War.”
Beth laughed as she hugged Stew again. “That is not from The Art of War, you fucking goofball.”
“Oh, yeah? Then where is it from?”
“That shitty kung-fu movie you were always going on about.”
“Whatever, dude. You get the idea. And now, if we’re all done standing around with our cocks out like a bunch of high schoolers, how about we celebrate that the Mundanes are the fucking reigning champions of Middang3ard?”
“Reigning champions, huh?”
“Obviously. We can’t be beat. Period. We’re pretty goddamn unstoppable.”
Stew threw his arm around Sandy and they headed toward the tables. Beth and Suzuki followed, standing closer than Suzuki ever thought he and Beth would. As they walked to the empty seats next to the Horsemen, Suzuki’s hand brushed against Beth’s. Or was it the other way around? Did her hand brush his? Either way, neither of them jerked away. Their fingers kept slightly touching, skin against skin, sending tingles up and down Suzuki’s spine, causing all of the small hairs on his body to stand up straight as if he had just been electrified. Suzuki felt as if all of his body was contained in those two fingers that continued to
brush against Beth’s.
All together for the first time since their adventures in Middang3ard had commenced, the Mundanes went to the seats of honor beside the Horsemen at the head of the table. Wyatt sat beside them, staring at his empty plate, his eyes hollowed out in a hunger that would have been humorous if he had not just been sprung from jail.
José stood as the Mundanes sat down. He cleared his throat. “I won’t waste your time with speeches and words. I’m starving, so I can only imagine how hungry you must be. Eat, drink, and have a good fucking time!”
Diana waved her wand over the tables. Goblets magically filled with ale, and plates were covered in sumptuous dishes, steaks cooked to rare perfection, their juices aching to be released from just the slightest pressure, vegetables steamed to a ripe stiffness, casting off their aroma, a plate of sweet desserts for each table, curious delights and bizarre meats that Suzuki (and probably anyone else other than Diana and maybe Stew) could hardly begin to guess. On the Mundanes’ table, a giant insect appeared on a silver platter, its exoskeleton popped open down the middle so its gooey white meat was exposed. Even though Suzuki initially felt a wave of disgust at seeing the creature, the smell wafting from its splayed carcass discounted any hesitation he initially had. He scooped a hefty bit of bug guts onto his plate, covered it in what looked like caviar but smelled like mutton, and started eating, washing down his first few bites with a healthy mouthful of ale.
The soldiers were slow to start eating, but once they started, they tore at their food ravenously. The only military who ate with any sense of decorum were Wyatt and Beth. They both ate with an air of composure that Suzuki assumed came from being officers, although he didn’t see why Beth would be acting like that. He had heard Wyatt refer to her as “Private.”
The Horsemen were not attempting to look like anything other than rowdy adventurers. José was practically pouring food into his mouth while he joked and laughed with Chip, who was back to her usual lewd and bawdy self, egging José on for a game of strip poker, guaranteeing that she could get most of the soldiers down to their underwear in less than an hour. Diana was smiling, eating, and occasionally interjecting a fact into the conversation, or talking quietly with Sandy, who was too busy shoving food in her mouth to be much of a conversationalist.
Finally, the feeding frenzy stopped. Now was the time to sit back with full bellies and cups. José cleared his throat and stood. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of fighting beside our distinguished military,” he boomed. “I am honored to have helped you in any way. I pray that this is the first step in putting behind our past differences in methodologies. As you see tonight, we fight the same enemy. Let us not make enemies of each other.”
A few of the soldiers raised their tankards and clanked them together. The cavern was filled with the shouting of “Here, here!”
Wyatt drank the last of his ale and poured himself another tankard full. Even though he was looking healthier, there was something off-putting about his face. Cynicism and skepticism had burrowed themselves deeply into the creases and wrinkles of his forehead. “How exactly do you think we should put those differences behind us?” Wyatt asked.
José shrugged and made himself another plate. “You’re talking to me like I’m the one in charge,” José said. “I’m not a captain. These aren’t my soldiers. If you want to address us, you address all of us. We aren’t an army, we’re a party, in case you couldn’t tell from the festivities.”
“Fine. What do you all propose we do to bridge that gap?”
Stew ripped off a hunk of flesh from a giant roasted bird leg. “Sharing is caring, dude,” Stew suggested. “The military has a shit-ton of intel that you keep to yourself, right? I’m guessing we probably have tons of shit that you guys have never even seen before. That’s a place to start. Why the fuck weren’t we sharing information before, anyways?”
“How do you know we weren’t?”
“From using my fucking head. If the military had your coordinates, wouldn’t they have sent someone out to get you guys by now?”
Beth shook her head. “I sent my coordinates to the military and Suzuki,” she sighed. “They could have found us if they wanted.”
José waved away Beth’s concern as he reached over the table and poured her another drink. “No, it’s never that easy. You have a bureaucracy to deal with. Us? Some, but much less. And don’t forget, we have the Mundanes. They aren’t easily dissuaded.”
Wyatt sighed and leaned forward. His brow was troubled, and he looked over his shoulder to see if any of the other soldiers were close enough to overhear him. “You’re not completely off,” he whispered as the Mundanes and Horsemen leaned in. “We do have more intel, a lot of intel that most of our guys don’t even know about. Take what happened in the reintegration camp, for instance. My higher-ups know exactly why we were there. We weren’t picked up for a reason.”
Beth’s face hardened and when she spoke, her voice was seething with anger. “Wait, what the fuck are you saying?” she growled.
“We were left there because I was given a mission—a mission that I obviously failed. The military has known for some time that the Dark One has been controlling various races with microchips and race-specific ringtones. It’s been classified information. My mission was classified as well. But for the sake of transparency and trying to mend the different ways things have gotten fucked up, here you go. My mission was to allow my platoon to be captured by a group of red orcs. We had it on good authority that since we were humans, we would be taken to a reintegration facility to be experimented on. While at that facility, it was my responsibility to find, procure, and destroy the human-specific ring and any others that I was able to track down.”
Beth slammed her tankard on the table, nearly breaking through the wood as she stood and drew her sword, pointing it at Wyatt’s throat. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she shouted. “We were just fucking bait?”
Wyatt hung his head. “That’s putting it politely,” he admitted.
“Fuck you! Fuck your whole fucking military!”
Beth slammed her sword into the table and stormed off, leaving her sword behind. Suzuki stood to go after her, but Sandy grabbed him by the wrist. “Let her go,” Sandy said. “She probably needs the space. I know I would if I just found out how expendable I was to someone I trusted.”
Wyatt filled his tankard up again. He drank slowly, eyeing the MERCs from behind the rim of his tankard. “I know I would.” He belched when he was finished drinking. “Beth’s one of my finest. And I couldn’t tell her shit. I had to watch while she got the shit kicked out of her just so that I could get into a position where I could find something out. And I found out shit. Diddly-shit. So, yeah, trust me. I know this is fucked up. I don’t need a lecture right now, not if you’re thinking about giving one.”
José raised both his hands as if he were surrendering. “No, not at all,” he said. “I was actually going to tell you that if you need to take a minute to speak with Beth, to try and smooth things over, feel free to. It might be better sooner than later. It seems she’s got a lot of respect for you. That’s not something that I want to stand in the way of you fixing.”
Wyatt stood and politely nodded at the Mundanes and the Horsemen before walking over to his tent. As Wyatt walked away, José leaned forward, folding his hands together, his eyes deep and thoughtful. “So, what are you guys thinking?” he asked.
Stew spoke with a mouthful of food. “Mil sounds kinda fucked.”
Sandy snorted derisively as she wiped off the food that had been flung from Stew’s mouth. “Please, Baby, stop talking with your mouth full. It’s not hot when your mouth is full of food. And I think we gotta take advantage of this. That’s what Suzy would do.”
Suzuki was looking over his shoulder at Wyatt’s tent. He could see Beth and Wyatt talking. They were both gesturing animatedly. Finally, Beth slapped Wyatt across the face, her finger only a couple of inches from his nose as she spat on
the ground and then flipped him off. They were shouting loud enough that Suzuki could almost make out the words. Beth turned to walk away from Wyatt. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around. He pulled something small and black from his pocket and placed it in Beth’s hand. Then he went back to his tent. Beth walked back to the banquet table, her head hung, her eyes dark and brooding. She took a seat next to Suzuki, downed all of her ale and poured herself another one. “What are we talking about?” she briskly asked.
José motioned toward Suzuki. “We were just taking a vote. What do you think, Suzuki?” José asked.
Suzuki leaned back and smiled as he sipped on his ale. “Sandy’s right. That’s exactly what I would say. We are here. We have a small army. We should fuck shit up. If the Dark One has a ring in there, I say we wreck the place and take it.”
Sandy squealed and grabbed Stew’s arm. “Oh, Babe, we could be like the Fellowship,” she joked. “I call dibs on holding it. Stew, you can be my Sam. Because you are obviously my bitch.”
Stew spat out his beer and stood up, waving his hands, his face beet red. “No fucking way,” he disagreed. “I am way too badass to be Sam. All he does is run around like, ‘Oh, Mr. Frodo, oh, your burden, oh, let me hold you. So not me. Besides, you’re a mage. You should obviously be Gandalf.”
“But you are so devoted to me. That’s so badass.”
“Sam is so not the badass I am. I’m ax-throwing murder-machine badass. Sam’s only cool because he’s got so many feelings.”
Sandy stood and kissed Stew on the forehead before drawing him close to her. Stew stopped arguing and went very quiet, almost like when you throw a curtain over a bird’s cage. “Babe, you have so many feelings, though,” Sandy cooed. “And you would totally hold the ring for me if it was too heavy on my emotional state, right?”
“Yeah, of course. Ain’t nobody fucking with my girl. Not even a magical fucking ring.”
