A Thousand Drunken Monkeys

by Eric Nylund

  “Alas, no,” he said with a sigh. “This is a Union gig, and…” He spread his hands as if that explained it all.

  At least I finally knew why Morgana’s features had always struck me as more sharp and wild than a normal elf. She had a few pixies infesting her family tree. I bet it gave a boost to her shapeshifting powers. But I wondered if her choice during character creation had been mere pragmatism, or had she been emulating her namesake, Morgana le fey?

  “Just so we be knowing the rules,” Elmac said. “We win, we pass. But if we lose?”

  “Ah, indeed,” the fairy replied. “When you lose, I will claim one of you as my slave, for say” —he tapped his pointed chin— “one year. I need a new roadie for my band. Our last one lost his hearing, eyes… uh, and a few other parts.”

  Cobra scales rippled over Morgana’s throat. “Not bloody likely.”

  The fairy vigorously shook his head. “No. No. Not you, cousin.” His gaze turned to me. “Him.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Elmac set a hand on my arm. “Let’s just be leaving. There may be another way ’round to Far Fields. Longer. Different… risks.” In a ghost of a whisper, he added, “But no fairy magic.”

  Morgana nodded her agreement.

  “Hang on a second,” I said.

  I wanted to think this through.

  The fairy was trying to rattle me.

  And it was working.

  I took a deep breath and set aside my growing urge to stomp him flat.

  Morgana was right. It was too obvious a choice to fight him. That had to be a trap.

  I also agreed with Elmac. I was okay at riddles, but my zero INTELLECT wasn’t going to cut it with such a supernatural creature.

  A window popped open:

  QUEST ALERT!

  A THOUSAND DRUNKEN MONKEYS—BONUS SEGMENT

  (ONE LITTLE COMPLICATION)

  Defeat the fairy in a contest of arms or wits.

  Reward(s): Bonus experience and a special reward (dependent on outcome).

  Suggested Party: You’re on your own.

  WARNING: Failure may result in enslavement.

  Accept? YES / NO

  Morgana cocked her head. “That confirms we’re on the right path, yeah?”

  Elmac, not being able to see it, glanced about, confused.

  I read it to him in English.

  “But it be a ‘bonus segment’,” Elmac whispered back in English. “So, optional?”

  “Well?” the fairy demanded. He looked annoyed, probably because he didn’t speak my native language.

  “Put a cork in it,” I told him.

  He glowered and started pacing.

  I was thinking about this all wrong, thinking like Hektor (with a k), gypsy elf and resident fantasy character—not like Hector (with a c), who had a college degree in computer science, with a minor in physics… and a brand of magic all his own.

  “This so-called trial by riddle,” I said, “would it be possible for me to ask you a riddle?”

  The little guy tilted his head, then burst into laughter so hard he fell over, holding his sides, which slowed to hiccups as he got back to his feet.

  “You riddle me? What would be the point? I’ve heard them all.”

  “Hektor,” Elmac said, “what be you doing?”

  “I’ve got this.”

  Sure, I know, famous last words.

  What was this magic I had? Well, the funny thing about all those physics and computer science classes I’d taken, they’d all had math prerequisites.

  Not that anything fancy was required here. Good old-fashioned algebra ought to do the trick.

  “You know, mate, it’s your butt on the line,” Morgana whispered.

  I waved away her concern.

  “Do you agree?” I asked the fairy. “Or perhaps it’s too large of a challenge for you.”

  I felt my Taunting Tenor skill warm to a simmer.

  The fairy’s face turned a lovely shade of lilac. He puffed out his chest. “I accept your challenge, foolish elf. Riddle away.”

  “Ah. One moment,” I said. “I demand reciprocal conditions. In addition to letting us pass, if I win, you become my slave for a year.”

  The fairy pulled his sunglasses down a bit and peered at me over the rims. “Sure. Whaaaatever.” He cracked his tiny knuckles.

  “Very well then.” I cleared my throat, draped Shé liàn over my shoulder, then pretended to consider long and hard, and finally with a thespian flourish said, “What is the sum of plus one and negative one, divided by the sum of negative one and plus one?”

  The fairy blinked. “What?”

  I repeated myself. Slower.

  “That’s not a riddle,” he declared and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Are you sure?”

  He frowned, brightened, and from his back pocket fished out a tiny book.

  I squinted and saw the gilt title: The Fey Un-Practical Guide to Trickery, 213th edition.

  He riffled through gossamer-thin pages, found what he was looking for, and mumbled aloud: “‘A riddle is defined as a question or declaration that requires imagination, intuition, and/or intellect to deduce or guess its answer or meaning.’” He gave me a smug smile.

  “Then,” I replied, “I believe I just gave you a question that requires ‘imagination, intuition, and/or intellect to deduce or guess its answer.’”

  The little guy’s smile held but a trickle of sweat appeared at his temple.

  “I’ll give you thirty minutes. Why, any fourteen-year-old on my world would have the answer in seconds.”

  If said fourteen-year-old had been paying attention in algebra class.

  “Or perhaps,” I said, “an even shorter period of time.”

  He trembled with rage at my taunt.

  I felt a bit like a bully egging him on, mainly because it was too easy, but since my own skin was at stake here—too bad.

  He gathered himself and stood straighter, perhaps a full thirteen inches. “This will be trivial.”

  He reached behind the rock he’d been sitting on, retrieved a satchel, pulled out a scroll and quill, and started scribbling.

  “Let’s see… One and negative one, that’s zero. Minus one and one—how silly, that is also zero. What a dumb riddle. So, zero divided by zero is simply….”

  His face went slack.

  “Oh…” Morgana said.

  A former high school biology teacher, Morgana had to have substituted in for a few math classes, so she got it.

  Elmac murmured to me, “But anything divided by itself be—”

  “Shh,” I told him. “No helping. Not even a teensy-weensy bit.”

  At this, the fairy snapped the tip of his quill, spattering ink everywhere. He growled and reached into his satchel for a spare.

  “Yes, zero divided by zero is one,” he said to himself.

  “Is that your answer?” I asked.

  He looked up, hesitated. “Uh, no—wait. Something’s not right.” He bent over his scroll once more and scratched away. “Ah! Yes. Of course, so easy. Why, anything multiplied by zero is zero. Child’s play… Or, no. Anything divided by zero is infinite.”

  “Is that your answer?”

  He glanced back and forth among the three results he’d jotted down.

  This was the crux of the riddle, but he didn’t realize the answer was staring right back at him.

  His eyes bulged and he pulled out tufts of his black hair, which I noted was only dyed jet black. He had lime-green roots.

  And so it went for a time…

  The fairy filled five scrolls with increasingly complicated equations. “No—that can’t be right. Ah! No… What?!” He finally stomped about in a circle, kicking the scrolls, booting his satchel, and spilling the inkwell.

  “Aghhh!”

  “Is that your answer?”

  He wheeled to face me, panting and puffing, teeth grinding. “No! This-this riddle is wrong. What madness is this?!”

  I decide
d to finish him before he figured it out.

  “Tut tut,” I said. “No need to have such a short fuse, my man. Perhaps you require a little more time?”

  He froze and, although I thought it not possible, his apoplectic lilac shade deepened to eggplant.

  “My apologies, good sir, I had no intention of diminishing your status as a self-proclaimed riddle master. Oh, pardon my faux pas. I meant to say there is no need to be a baby about this. Ah, again pardon my insensitivity. By way of apology could I offer you a beverage to calm your agitated state? My companion here could provide you a pint… or maybe more appropriately, a half pint?”

  “Gah!” He drew a slim gold dagger from his belt. “DIE, interloper!”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Elmac said. “You agreed, fairy—a trial by wits. And wits it’ll be or you be forfeiting the contest.”

  At this, the fairy tossed his dagger aside, threw himself on the grass, and wailed.

  Morgana shook her head. “Must you torture the little blighter?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” I said.

  He sobbed and pulled out handfuls of grass and stuffed them into his mouth.

  Had I driven him over the edge? I almost stepped forward to tell him it was okay—that the riddle was a simple trick.

  Fortunately, the good intentions that might have been my undoing were stopped.

  There was a thumping sound like cinderblocks dropped onto a hardwood floor.

  Morgana, Elmac, and I turned to the right.

  A new bridge appeared with what could only be the Chaos Knight back from her coffee break standing on the threshold.

  “Blimey,” Morgana whispered. “That’s not…”

  “Aye. Has to be,” Elmac told her.

  Yeah, we were pretty much screwed.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Chaos Knight had taken the form of… well, the closest match was the multi-armed statue of the goddess, Kali, in the 1973 movie, The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (with stop-motion effects by the legendary Ray Harryhausen). If you missed that flick or never had it on your version of Earth, let me explain.

  The guardian in the movie was a ten-foot tall, six-armed clay golem who resembled the Hindu goddess.

  This one, however, had twelve arms, towered twenty feet, and was made of metal (steel, if I was not mistaken)—and oh, she had three faces evenly spaced about her head to give her a full three-hundred-sixty-degree field of view.

  If I were a Chaos Knight who could morph into any form? I might have picked the same thing. Total overkill.

  The fairy kicked his notes under his satchel, stood at attention, and announced, “All tremble before the terribleness of the Grand Imperial Champion of Disorder and Slayer of the Seven Sovereign Justices of Elysium, Her Greatness, Dominota Koroleva!”

  And like he needed to, he added, “Oh Imperial Great One, kill these intruders!”

  She stepped onto the island (and I swear I felt the entire landmass tilt).

  The bridge behind her vanished.

  I noted the bridge we’d used to get here was now gone too. Lovely.

  So… no running.

  I didn’t think I’d be taunting my way out of this one, either.

  And frankly, I didn’t see us defeating such a combat machine.

  I concentrated and transitioned into the aether—literally taking a time-out to think.

  The island in-between worlds slipped away and my astral body resolved… elsewhere.

  I marveled at the beauty.

  Lines ran this way and that from every direction… and simultaneously came from no direction. They vibrated with harmonics and shimmering spectrums, with laughter, cannon booms, howling hurricane, whispers; wind and rain, wasp stings, and kisses brushed my face as sensation passed through me; memories came and went too, mine, others, fragments of thoughts from long-dead gods, and things my mind refused to comprehend lest it be crushed—all mingled with my astral soul in a glorious choir that sang the hymn of the multiverse.

  Before I lost myself in the cacophony of synesthesia—I pushed it away to a mental arm’s length.

  Whoa. The toe in the water I’d dipped into the aether as a child was nothing like this.

  I carefully focused only on the ley lines and the rest faded.

  There was the usual web of golden threads that represented location, a few nearby smoldering crimson strands, glacier blues, and brilliant filaments of lightning against star-filled space.

  I also could see the ghostly outlines of Elmac, Morgana, and the Chaos Knight. All frozen.

  This wasn’t a true time stop. My physical body was immobile as well. Only my mind and the things in the aether that I could influence moved.

  I noted I had a new green indicator bar under the gold one for my spiritual mana and the red one showing my current health. This had to be my reflexive mana bar. A green pip winked out, reminding me that I was paying for this subjective “free” time.

  There was the slightest tingle in my fingertips … or rather, my astral body’s fingertips. That had to be a side effect of burning through my reflex-based mana. Not entirely unexpected, but nonetheless disconcerting.

  Well, down to business then. First thing, first.

  I powered my Perfect Motion buff.

  Next, I reached for a nearby line of glistening gold. It made contact with my outstretched astral hand with a satisfying clicking-into-place sensation. This particular ley line, however, then started to vibrate. I had to hold it tight to keep it from slipping away.

  I took another length of the thing and looped it about Shé liàn—and as a test, I used my Small Pass ability.

  The handle of the ninja chain appeared in my hand.

  That was so cool.

  But that maneuver had used ten points of reflexive mana. With the mana burned to remain in the aether so far, this left me with 88/100… and the tingling in my fingertips now felt like pins and needles.

  I better stay on task—so next up, a tactical analysis.

  I took a good long look over the Chaos Knight. The casting of the statue’s steel was top-notch. Even the tiny shrunken heads on her necklace had fine details like open screaming mouths and tiny tears running down their burnished cheeks.

  I got the sense the statue wasn’t a hollow casting, either. If she was a solid mass of steel, she’d weigh at least six tons.

  It was going to be tough to make a dent in her, let alone do any real damage. Maybe if we soaked her in water she’d rust? …Given a few days.

  Okay, forget fighting the armored tank with swords and fists.

  I noticed a few more pips had gone dark in my reflexive mana bar.

  How about the terrain? Any help there?

  A few rocks, grass, one small stream. No escape routes—unless I wanted to take a flying leap into outer space.

  Ah! Could we push her off this rock?

  A quick thumbnail calculation, and… there was no way. The physics didn’t add up unless Elmac had a bulldozer or thirty-foot-long crowbar crammed in his pack.

  Where was my friend Pendric and his titan horse Bell Ringer when I needed a suicidal charge and a hundred thousand newtons of force?

  I glanced at my mana bar. Two more pips had vanished.

  Hanging out in the aether was amazingly useful. I’d cast my buff, readied my weapon, and sized up our enemy, without having to worry about being immediately slain in the process. It could, however, become a trap. If I ran out of mana here, my astral form would permanently detach from my physical body, i.e. death.

  And one more green pip winked out to punctuate this point.

  I’d done all I could here. We’d have to engage this thing to get more data.

  I phased back to normal space-time.

  The Chaos Knight stepped toward us. The ground trembled.

  The fairy cheered. “Slash them to ribbons!”

  Slash? With her fists?

  The statue of Kali made a grasping motion with one hand. A ten-foot-long scimitar appeared there—and in rapid succession,
her eleven other hands did the same, and the air rang out with the collective sword “shiiiiiings.”

  Bad news. Not only the slashing part, but she now had tremendous reach.

  …in addition to impenetrable armor.

  …and vastly superior strength and mass.

  “Ideas?” I asked.

  Elmac and Morgana stared open-mouthed at the thing. No help there.

  “Use ranged weapons,” I said. “Don’t close. Keep moving. Spread out.”

  That broke their state of shock.

  Elmac sprinted right; Morgana went left.

  I held the center position and yelled, “Hey, you rusty pile of scrap metal. Over here. I’ve got a can of oil for you, Squeaky.”

  The knight’s three pairs of eyes tracked us, and then she maneuvered to a tactically advantageous position in the middle of the island.

  My taunt had apparently bounced off her metal skin.

  The fairy fluttered onto her shoulder. “That one,” he snarled and pointed at me. “Kill him first.”

  One of her gazes narrowed at me.

  The skin along my spine went cold and crinkled with a primal terror response.

  She lumbered toward me, each step leaving ten-inch impressions in the loam.

  “But take your time,” the fairy added. “Make him suffer.”

  What a nasty little piece of—

  I darted right, faster than she could follow. Thank you, Perfect Motion.

  Morgana and Elmac maintained their relative equidistant positions. Morgana threw a dagger at her; Elmac shot a hand crossbow—and both attacks pinged harmlessly off the metal.

  The statue’s head swiveled as she moved to keep visual contact on us.

  “How long can we play at this?” Morgana called out in English.

  I had a feeling not as long as Her Greatness, Dominota Koroleva could. We mere mortals would eventually run out of mana and stamina and pass out. If she truly was a magically animated construct, she’d never tire.

  “If we be doing something,” Elmac replied, also in English, “best do it while we be strong.”

  I didn’t like Elmac’s suggestion, but he was right.

  “Agreed,” I said. “Let’s go in on three.”