by Ramy Vance
“I have always known what Chip was. I have made a minor hobby of watching her. It took considerable attention and effort to guide her to the situation she found herself in.”
“Considerable attention to guide her to killing José? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“José’s loss was an unforeseen tragedy. We were aware that Chip was a piece of the Dark One’s old tech, old experiments he deemed failures for some reason or other. We could not have foreseen Chip being used to kill José, though. That was, as I said, an unfortunate tragedy. But it was unlikely that you would have been able to make it as far into the defense rings without the aid of Chip’s…technological advancements.”
“Why keep all this a secret?”
“Loose lips sink ships, Suzuki. Just as we have spies within MERC and MERC has spies within the Dark One’s forces, we are not immune to treachery.”
“What else do you know that you’ve just been waiting for us to figure out?”
“I believe you can answer that yourself, Mr. Fletcher.”
“The Dark One…he’s an alien from an entirely different dimension.”
“Yes, we are aware. We have been working on a craft to invade his dimension and end this war once and for all. We believe your efforts would be better applied within the constraints of the military. You Mundanes have proven yourselves to be extremely reliable. The amount that you have grown as fighters is unsurpassed by any MERC party. You four are exceptional. Within the military, you would have more resources. You could turn the tide of the war with the Dark One.”
Suzuki sighed and hung his head as he handed Myrddin his teacup. “So, you’re saying you knew that the Dark One was an alien? You knew Chip was built by him? You willingly jeopardized the safety of my party and used us as unknowing pawns in your war games? And you want us to follow your orders now?”
“Suzuki, this isn’t about whatever you think is right or wrong. We are fighting a war. There is more at stake than single lives. The Dark One threatens the very fabric of our reality.”
Suzuki stood and cleared his throat. “I respectfully decline, sir. I understand what you are trying to accomplish, but I don’t agree with your methods. I’m a MERC, not a dog of the military. Please return my friends and me to the Red Lion so we can continue our service.”
Myrddin smiled as he leaned back in his seat. His face was warm and understanding as he sipped his cup of tea. “I assumed you would say as much,” Myrddin said. “Though it doesn’t hurt to ask. I will return you and your party—”
“Chip and Diana as well. And I want you to transport Ashegoreth back to her homeland.”
“Are you making demands of me, Mr. Fletcher?”
“No. I’m merely asking you, as another enemy of the Dark One, for a favor. We’ve spent the last weeks doing them for you.”
“Well said, Mr. Fletcher. I will return the dragon to her home, as well as your fellow MERCs.”
“Good. Next time you need help, how about you just fucking ask?”
Suzuki stood and stormed out of the tent. He hoped that Beth would come with him, but at this point, it didn’t fucking matter. She was safe, and she knew where to find him. He couldn’t be around any of the military right now. It had taken everything for him to watch his mouth. In reality, he wanted to drive his ax into Myrddin’s smug face. But that wouldn’t have solved anything. Instead, he went back to the Mundanes. Sandy and Stew were finally on their feet. “We’re leaving,” Suzuki said.
Stew had returned to his regular size and Sandy had removed her amulet. They both stood when they saw Suzuki. “What’s going on?” Sandy asked.
“The military’s been using us. You probably already figured it out by now.”
“We kinda figured that much when we ended up here.”
“They want us to work for them.”
“Fuck that.”
Stew laughed callously. “Yeah, fuck them. Let’s go home. What about Beth?”
“What about me?”
Suzuki turned around. Beth was standing behind him. She had removed her military armor and was wearing a plain tunic. She carried her sword and her shield. A military mage was standing at her side. “We ready to go?” she asked.
“Almost, just give me a minute. Go get Diana. Tell her we’re taking Chip home with us.”
Suzuki looked around. It didn’t take long to see Ashegoreth, hidden by shadows, crouched low as if she were afraid of the humans walking around her. Suzuki went to her and knelt beside her foot. The dragon leaned forward, her face partially illuminated, her bright eyes dancing in the night. “Hello again, Suzuki, the Most Mundane of Mundanes,” she whispered.
“Hello, Ashegoreth.”
“I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me.”
Suzuki nodded. “I believe you would have done the same for me.”
“I’d like to think I would have, although I know I would now do anything for you.”
“We have to go. I spoke to the guys in charge here. They’re going to send you back home. You’ll be safe.”
“I don’t want to be safe, Suzuki. I want to fight the Dark One and rid the realm of him.”
“Well, I’d say come with us, but I doubt you’d like the Shire. It’s a little swampy.”
“Give me your hand, child of dust.”
Suzuki held his hand out for Ashegoreth. “You say you are the most Mundane of Mundanes, yet today I have seen a human with the heart of a dragon, a heart that holds my own. I will always be yours, Suzuki. I am glad that you found your lover, and I am glad that she is safe. You are both lucky to have each other. There is little I can do to thank you for granting me my freedom. This, I believe, will be a reward.”
Ashegoreth took her claw and sliced Suzuki’s hand. He tried not to flinch, and he held his trembling, bleeding hand in his other one. Then Ashegoreth took her finger and ran her claw across it, cutting her scales open. She pressed her wounded finger to Suzuki’s palm, and he felt fire consume his hand. He fell to his knees, quaking in pain, but he did not pull his hand away from Ashegoreth. The open wound sealed itself in fire and the pain passed.
“There are few things more sacred to a dragon than its blood. There are fewer things children of flesh lust after as well. Now my blood flows through you. Now you are a human born of the fire. Each boon has different qualities. We can never say how you will show the true nature of your blood now, but you will. You and I will forever be connected. Whenever you need me, I will come. No matter why. No matter how far.”
“Uh, did you just marry me?”
Ashegoreth laughed, a hearty sound that filled Suzuki’s entire body with joy. “Dragons do not get married.” Ashegoreth chuckled. “But you are family now. As close as my brothers and sisters and lovers. And now I will name you. It will be the name that will be uttered for all dragons to hear. Wear it proudly, Suzuki the Dragon Blood, Born of Fire, Tamer of Dragons. Now go. Go to your friends. I will see you again.”
Suzuki bowed, not knowing what else to do. Then he hugged Ashegoreth’s paw and turned before there was anything else that would need to be said. He ran over to the Mundanes, who were all watching, mesmerized. Beth was the first to speak. “Suzy, did that dragon just marry you?” she asked.
Suzuki shook his head and smiled. “No,” he said. “I think I kinda got adopted or something.”
Stew clapped Suzuki on the back. “Dude, that dragon still totally wants to fuck you.” He laughed.
Beth smiled as she took Suzuki’s hand and looked at the flame-shaped scar in his palm. “I know I should probably be jealous or something, but that is really fucking cool,” she said. “You told her you’re taken, right?”
“I am?”
Beth wrapped her arms around him. “You’re goddamn right you are, Suzy.”
“She already knows, trust me. She said she’s glad we’re together again. All together again.”
“Me, too. Now can we get the fuck out of here?”
Suzuki looked at the military mag
e waiting for them. The mage nodded and raised his staff. Reality started to blend and swirl, and Suzuki felt that familiar fishhook in his stomach. The Mundanes were finally going home.
25
It had been one full week since the Mundanes returned to the Red Lion. José’s funeral had been carried out the next day, with all the MERCs showing up for the funeral.
Many of them hadn’t believed José had died in battle until they saw his body in a casket.
Diana had insisted on an open casket.
She believed it was best for the MERCs to see what the Dark One had taken from them. Even the MERC they all respected the most, who they thought was incapable of dying, could be taken from them.
His body was burned at midnight.
Suzuki was chosen to carry the torch that reduced José to ashes, allowing the wind to take him to the stars.
Few of the MERCs saw Chip.
It wasn’t that they were trying to shame her or that they didn’t trust her. As it was said around a good many tables, if MERCs stopped trusting each other every time they fell under mind control or got bewitched and tried or succeeded in killing their friends, there wouldn’t be any MERCs left to fight.
Stew, Sandy, and Suzuki raised many glasses to that toast. Still, Chip kept to herself in her room, no doubt trying to understand the role she had played in the fall of the Dark One’s rings.
Diana, on the other hand, seemed to be everywhere, connecting with different MERCs, trying to help plan as many assaults on the Dark One’s various camps as possible.
That was the way she handled her grief.
Suzuki could not recall ever seeing her cry, yet he had noticed that something had gone out of her eyes since José had passed. She moved slower than she had before, almost as if age was finally catching up with her. Often, toward the end of the night, she would sneak up to Chip’s room with a few bottles of mead and lock the door as quietly as possible.
The dour spirit hung over the Red Lion for a few days. Of course, the MERCs drank to José and toasted to him every day. Soon the mood changed. Slowly but surely, as MERCs went on their own quests and missions and returned by the skin of their teeth, they sang their battle songs and drank deeply, their glasses raised high, their songs dedicated to José.
Ballads were composed by the halflings and dwarves honoring José, too many to count. And they sang deep into the night until many of them were drunk, telling stories of their time with José.
José was not the only one for whom ballads were composed.
It was not fitting for them to be sung until the fifth night, as was the custom of the MERCs. A ballad had been written for each of the Mundanes. One, dedicated to Sandy, told the tale of the ghost mage who wore the entrails of her enemies as if they were robes. Another detailed the exploits of the raging Berserker Stew, who ripped giants limb from limb in the middle of the Dark One’s perverse arena. Even Beth, although a relatively new MERC, had received a ballad, lauding her as the woman who had fought her way from the bowels of hell, only to drive her sword through the head of the viceroy. After a couple edits, the dwarves admitted that sword was a much better poetic device than USB drive. But the ballads that were sung the most in the halls of the Red Lion were these two: The Tale of the Mundanes, and Suzuki, the Most Mundane of the Mundanes.
It was the fifth night of mourning and the Mundanes were sitting at their table, which had once been the table of the Horsemen. They had not bought a drink or a meal since they returned, and Wendy, the bar owner, assured them that they would not be doing so for some time.
The Red Lion had lost the Horsemen, but it had gained the Mundanes.
The table was quiet.
Neither Beth nor Suzuki joked or spoke very much. Nor did Sandy or Stew. It was not that they did not enjoy each other’s company. Rather, each of them had seen so much pain and suffering, had seen themselves stretched as far as they believed possible, and they had all come back together. There was no need to speak words that needn’t be said. Yet tonight was the fifth night of mourning and, according to the elves, it was bad luck to continue on in somberness and sobriety any longer.
Surprisingly, it was Diana and Chip who brought the Mundanes their first round of drinks and food for the evening. Chip placed a pitcher of ale on the table (Wendy had decided to change to pitchers because the dishes were getting out of control), and Diana brought round a plate of Wendy’s bizarre culinary delights. They squeezed themselves into the table with the Mundanes, and it did not take long before they were all doing shots together while racing to see who could suck the most venom pits out of a pile of black lightning beetles.
Suzuki stared down at his hand after he had finished his ale, looking at the flame that had been carved into his palm. He felt like his whole body was scarred. In truth, Sandy seemed to be the only one of them who had walked away from the last few weeks without looking like she’d been repeatedly cut and burned, a point she often brought up. Now Suzuki was looking at his hand, thinking of José, wondering where he was, if he was, in fact, anywhere.
Chip was talking quietly to Sandy. She was crying softly but trying to wipe away her tears before anyone could see. “It’s not your fault, Chip,” Sandy was saying.
Chip nodded, reaching for a napkin on the table with one hand and a shot with the other. “I still pulled the trigger,” Chip said. “I’m gonna make that son of a bitch pay. I’m gonna make him pay.”
Diana reached over the table and took Chip’s hand. Stew put his hand on top of Diana’s, and Sandy’s, Beth’s, and Suzuki’s followed. “We’re all going to make him pay,” Sandy said. “We’re going to send that interdimensional sack of shit straight to hell. That’s why we’re the fucking Mundanes. All of us. You hear me?”
Chip and Diana looked at Sandy, their eyes watering. Sandy smiled at Suzuki. “Right, Suzy?” she asked.
Suzuki stood and raised his glass. “To the Mundanes! Let us never split the party!”
The six Mundanes cried in unison, “Never split the party!”
As Suzuki prepared to sit down, his vision went black. He was no longer in the Red Lion. He was outside time and space. He felt himself growing older and younger at the same time. He looked down at his hands as they decayed into ash and reformed as a baby’s. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked aloud.
There was a light in the distance. It looked to be a burning bush of some kind. Then the bush contorted and the branches fell off.
José was there instead.
Burning still.
The dead MERC stood up, his eyes bright and alive. “Hey, there,” José said as he pointed at Suzuki, then everything vanished.
Suzuki was standing in the Red Lion once again, surrounded by his friends. He sat down quickly and threw back his drink. Must have drunk too much, Suzuki thought.
“Well, look who’s become local celebrities?” a voice shouted from behind Suzuki. Just the sound of it was enough to make Suzuki wince. The voice belonged to Milos, the surly dwarf who had been responsible for the Mundanes’ first missions. “Bet y’all got your heads so far up your asses now that you forgot you’re supposed to be here fighting the Dark One’s legions, not getting drunk and fat every night.”
Sandy laughed and poked Milo’s stomach with her wand. “Honestly, you might want to remember that yourself from time to time,” she joked.
Milos turned red and cleared his throat loudly as he pulled his gut above his belt. “Aw, shut up! I’m not here for jokes. I’m here to let you know there’s a new mission for y’all. Extra high-level shit, something that only the best of the best can handle. Y’all keen to get started again?”
Suzuki looked at the Mundanes around the table. He could already see the answer in their faces.
The most Mundane of the Mundanes tossed back his drink before slamming the stein on the table. “Hell, yeah. For honor…”
“For glory,” they all shouted. “For XP!”
“For José,” Suzuki added, looking at his party. “All ri
ght, Mundanes, it’s time to get back to work.”
Author Notes Ramy Vance
August 29, 2019
There is rarely an Edinburgh morning when their early morning squawking doesn’t wake me up. And when we’re out and about with my four year old, I have to diligently watch any food he might be eating, lest he put it down and some enterprising seagull swoop down and steal it.
To date, my son has had two partially eaten muffins and half a sandwich stolen from him.
But then I moved into a new apartment in West Edinburgh. Our flat is the top floor, and because the building is taller than any of the surrounding buildings, I get to survey my neighbors’ roofs (often standing at the window in a power pose, arms akimbo, as I survey my kingdom).
I was in one of those power poses when I noted a seagull laying two eggs on the roof across the road. Because I’m interested in stargazing (and not at all because I’m a perv), I got out my telescope to get a closer look at the little gull family and over the following weeks, I watched in wonder as one of the eggs hatched and a baby seagull emerged.
That hatchling almost immediately started walking, and I was smitten from minute one, dubbing the newborn Little Bob. Here are his first baby pics:
Over the coming weeks I watched little Bob grow, while the other egg (his baby sister, Emma) sat under his mummy’s belly, waiting for the opportune moment to hatch and enter the world.
I started to take pictures of the Gull family, precariously lining up my phone’s camera into the telescope’s viewer and clicking. I posted those pics on my author Facebook group, doing daily updates on the adventures of Little Bob and his baby sis.
It was strange, because I truly hate seagulls, but these guys … I knew them and could no longer lump them into the general bucket of ire with all other seagulls.
They were the Gulls. A family just doing their best to survive this world, just like my own family.
