The Bad Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  “There’s no value to the mud wolves themselves?” I asked.

  “To be honest, I doubt anyone has even looked. Most of the time, anyone involved with a mud wolf pit is just totally devastated by their presence. Or killed.”

  “Do they leave the water?”

  “No. They stay in the pit, under the surface. They tend not to appear until it’s too late. That raft fishing technique is the common way of dealing with things like greater prawns. Mud wolves are a different breed of animal. They require a lot more care, and we didn’t do any of that.”

  “Where do they come from? Are they just, I mean, just relegated to the pits?”

  Matthew shook his head, clearly baffled about my lack of nature knowledge, then said: “Name kind of gives it away. They live in mud. Swamps. Bigger the swamp, bigger the pack of mudwolves in it. Thing is, nearest swamp to Glaton is about four hundred miles southeast.”

  “There’s Finsterswamp,” Nadya said. “That’s just two days ride to the west.”

  Matthew mused for a moment, then shrugged, “Still a long way for a mud-wolf to slither.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked.

  “We? We do very little right now. I’m about to go and fill out paperwork. Let the powers that be know about the mud wolves. And about Peregrine. Make sure all the right paperwork is filled out for his death, and that it is recorded as an accident. Hope they don’t pull my license for it.”

  “What license?”

  “The Empire runs on paper, kid. I have a Pit Restoration license. The Empire wants to know who’s playing with the pits here, so they don’t become corpse dumping grounds. At least, they want to make sure they aren’t solely corpse dumping grounds. Plus, they want their share of coin made here. Or anywhere. That gives you two about an hour to figure out how you’re going to sneak Nadya’s friend out of the pits to somewhere else. Provided you’re still going to keep it.”

  “Of course I am,” Nadya said.

  Matthew nodded. Then he held up his drink.

  “To Peregrine,” he said.

  We drank to the man, the liquor burning down my throat.

  “Now you two had better hurry if you want that buddy of yours to live,” Matthew said. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more time.”

  I gulped down the last of my drink and pushed back from the table. Nadya did the same, and then nodded at me.

  Chapter 84

  Back at the pit, we moved quickly, swatting aside bugs as we walked over to the cottage. But before I could barge in, Nadya held her hand out in front of me.

  “You need to be careful,” she said. “He’s, well, nervous.”

  “He’s nervous or you’re nervous?” I asked.

  “A little of both.”

  “So what’s the plan here?”

  “I was thinking we box him up and carry him out. Maybe I can flag down a wagon.”

  “Is he going to eat us when we approach?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “How certain are you?”

  “I mean, somewhat.”

  “You have no idea what the thing is going to do.”

  “First of all, his name is Hellion. Second of all, I do so have an idea what he might do. I just don’t know for sure.”

  “You named him.”

  “I offered him a few names, and he choose the one he wanted.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she said. “He’s a living, thinking creature.”

  “Who pretends to be a treasure chest.”

  “So he’s developed some strange survival traits — so what? Besides, don’t you think this is a creature worth studying?”

  “Maybe, but aren’t there professionals who do this? You know, with safety precautions?”

  “I’m safe.”

  “Maybe I’m wrong — wouldn’t be the first time — but isn’t not being sure if you’re going to get eaten the sort of thing that people are afraid of?”

  “Yeah, sure, but people are afraid of bears too.”

  “I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

  “Some people keep bears as pets.”

  “Some people are stupid.

  “Sure, but that doesn’t mean all people who keep bears are stupid.”

  “I’d argue that’s a pretty good sign of a mental deficiency.”

  “So you think I’m stupid?”

  “No, but I’m also confused as to your end goals with this thing.”

  “Study. Perhaps companionship. Depending.”

  “On?”

  “On what I discover while studying the damn thing.”

  “If I find out you’re cuddling the thing, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  “I’ll see if I can restrain myself,” she said, absolutely dripping with sarcasm. “Now go find a crate. I’ll get Hellion prepped.”

  “How big of a crate?”

  “Like a chest.”

  “Chests come in different sizes.”

  She frowned at me.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said.

  Nadya rolled her eyes, and walked into the cottage.

  I mean, I didn’t mean it like that.

  There were all kinds of crates and barrels around the place, mostly still full of gear. Or, in the case of the barrels, water. I moved things around until I found a crate I thought might accommodate a generic-sized chest, and hauled it up the cottage’s porch.

  Nadya darted out of the door, shutting it quickly behind her.

  Her eyes were a bit wide, and she was breathing heavily.

  “So, how’s your buddy?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure he’s keen on going somewhere new.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “No, he chased me out.”

  “Perfect, so we’ll have no problem getting him into a crate.”

  “Might be a problem.”

  I held up the crate. She eyed it, then smiled.

  This was definitely going to suck.

  Nadya opened the door carefully, peeking around.

  The chest, or the mimic, had moved back to his usual position at the far end of the room, where there was a little bit of sunlight coming through the window.

  “Hey there, Hellion,” Nadya said, stepping through the door.

  The mimic’s mouth opened a little. I could see the strings of saliva connecting the lid to the rest of the beast. There were two small bumps on the top of the chest, and I saw the bumps moving from side to side ever so slightly. Eyes. Just the slightest hint of the purple tongue peeking out from its mouth.

  “We have to move you,” Nadya said.

  The creature made no response. At least verbally. His mouth opened a little wider, and his eyes still flicked back and forth between Nadya and me.

  I had the crate with me, and though I had considered hiding it behind my back, I figured it wasn’t the best of ideas seeing that the crate was wider than me. I was approaching with the crate out, trying to make it seem like it was something very sweet..

  “Just a little ride in a crate, buddy,” I said.

  Nadya shot me a look.

  I ignored her. I was also trying not to think she was completely nuts for keeping this thing around. It was one thing when she was trying to tame the mimic while it was kept within the confines of the pit, but now it was going to live somewhere in her estate? Maybe she had people for that. Someone who’d be able to look after the thing. Keep Nadya from becoming the mimic’s lunch while she studied it.

  Steadily, we advanced. Step by step, getting closer to the beast.

  It wasn’t moving.

  I wondered if the mimic breathed. If it had lungs. What its innards were like.

  Then its mouth opened wide, and the brutish purple tongue snapped out and wrapped around my arm.

  I dropped the crate.

  Little I’d experienced up until that point really prepared me for the feeling of a mimic’s tongue. It was such an odd thing. Heavy and muscul
ar and remarkably flexible. There seemed to be a layer of slime covering the thing, which you would think would make it easy to slip out of, but the saliva was also acidic. And sticky. Something like an oily glue.

  “Alcohol,” Nadya said.

  “What?” I asked.

  She was already in the midst of throwing a small flask my way, and although the mimic was doing its best to tug me into its waiting toothy maw, I managed to snag the flask out of the air.

  “Pour it on the tongue,” she said.

  “On the mimic?” I asked.

  “Fast or he’ll get you close enough to bite.”

  One look at the large yellowed teeth of the creature was enough for me to know biting was not a good option.

  I uncorked the flask and poured the liquid over the tongue. Where it had been sticky, the tongue was now smooth. A complete reversal of viscosity. And despite its grip, I had no trouble pulling my arm free now.

  The mimic retracted his tongue in a blur of movement, and seemed to give Nadya a look of dissatisfaction. Like he couldn’t quite believe she had done that.

  I looked at the flask, then at the mimic.

  “What just happened?” I asked.

  “High-proof alcohol neutralizes their saliva. Makes it slick instead of sticky.”

  “You figured that out in the one day of working with it?”

  “No, I read it in a book and you helped me test it out just now.”

  “That was a guess?”

  “An educated guess. And it worked.”

  “And if it hadn’t?”

  “Then I would’ve smacked Hellion on the lid until he let you go.”

  “You think he wouldn’t just have snatched you with his tongue?”

  “He’d have to let you go first, wouldn’t he?”

  “Your lackadaisical approach to safety is a little disconcerting.”

  She shrugged.

  And I leapt.

  The mimic had seemed to be following our conversation, so he wasn’t expecting me to move. I slammed the crate down on top of the poor guy. Then I sat on it.

  “Done,” I said.

  “When we pick it up, how are we going to make sure he won’t fall out of the bottom?” Nadya asked.

  “Semantics,” I replied.

  Chapter 85

  From there, it actually wasn’t so hard to get the mimic in the crate. A little tipping here and there followed by a quick slam of the lid, and we managed to get the beast safely within its carrier. Granted, the dude was not happy when I hammered the top on, so he made moving the crate around nigh-on impossible, shifting his weight around inside with wild abandon. But the crate almost managed to move on its own, so there was that.

  We got the crate and ourselves out of the pit area just in time, stumbling up the block with our burden while Matthew and some rather rough-looking men in grey cloaks crossed our paths. Matthew didn’t make any sort of acknowledgement of the two of us, so I made none towards him. It was as if we were but two ships passing in the night.

  Nadya and I struggled with the crate for about a block before deciding that it was just too ridiculous. She left me there to sit on the crate while she got a wagon.

  The crate, or the mimic really, did his best to make his displeasure known, rocking about like a maniac, almost knocking me off.

  “Stop,” I said.

  The rodeo halted.

  “We’re trying to get you to a new home,” I said. “Somewhere safe.”

  No more movement. Either he was actually listening to me (doubtful), or he appreciated the sound of my voice... more likely.

  “If you chill,” I said, “you know, like relax, you can have a restful little trip in the dark. And then you’ll be in a new place where you’ll have lots of grass to run around in. Or, I don’t know, what do you like to run around in?”

  There was a grumble of sorts from the crate. Almost as if the creature inside was trying to figure out how to form a word.

  “Whatever it is, there’s probably something like that at your new place. So, provided you don’t try to eat me, or Nadya, or anyone, really, you’ll have a nice little spot to do what you want. Which, my guess, involves eating.”

  Probably just my imagination, but I sensed a feeling of satisfaction from the mimic, and he remained still. Then, just as this world always seemed to do, I got confirmation of something I hadn’t known:

  Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Monster Handling. Now you can deal with monsters without them eating you. Right away. They’ll probably still eat you. Increased chance at non-hostile monster interactions.

  It was almost easy to load the crate onto the back of the wagon. So we trundled on.

  It wasn’t a nice carriage — it was a wagon. A thing of function over form, and Nadya and I got to ride in the back amongst the hay and detritus from the teamster’s other deliveries. The ride was bumpy and unpleasant, but a whole hell of a lot better than trying to carry a bucking mimic across the city.

  “What’s your plan here?” I asked.

  “Long term?” Nadya replied, looking at the city pass by. “Study the creature. Maybe see if there’s a use for them.”

  “A use? Like only having to have four mimics and that covers all the furniture you’d need in your house?”

  She laughed, but shook her head. “I don’t think furniture is really where the mimic would be ultimately useful.”

  “It’d certainly put some carpenters out of work.”

  “I don’t even know if it can do more than be a chest.”

  “Of course it can. If it couldn’t, people wouldn’t call it a mimic. They’d call it a false chest.” It took actual restraint to not make a crack about implants.

  “Maybe there are different species, variants who can become different things. Maybe a chest mimic can only be a chest mimic.”

  “I find that hard to believe. That seems remarkably limiting.”

  “But wouldn’t it be better to know, though? Seems like we should know these things, as a society. It would help anyone in a dungeon if they knew how to deal with mimics.”

  “You don’t want to save all the mimics?”

  “What? No. That’s absurd. They’re still monsters. They still mostly just kill other imperial citizens. My uncle died exploring the wilds. And I think, you know, if someone had been cataloging these monsters and how to kill them, how to avoid them, all those things, then maybe my uncle would still be here.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  She nodded at me, then looked back out at the city. Her eyes glistened a bit, giving me the feeling this topic was a whole lot more sensitive than I’d anticipated.

  We made a turn to the west, which confused me. I didn’t know of many nice neighborhoods west of the Pits. Or to the east of the pits. And the southern portion of the city was definitely and defiantly middle class at best.

  “Where are we heading?” I asked.

  “You live in Old Town, right?”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “I can’t bring it back to my, uh, house.”

  “Were you about to say estate?”

  “Maybe. But I still can’t bring it there.”

  “So you’re taking it to my apartment?”

  “You live by yourself.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want a roommate who’s going to eat me.”

  “He’s not going to eat you.”

  “He’s already tried to once.”

  “Did he even hurt you?”

  “It hurt.”

  “Do you have a mark on your arm?”

  “That’s not what signifies hurt, Nadya.”

  “Stop being a baby.”

  “Wanting to keep my apartment monster-free is being a baby.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “You don’t want a monster in your place of residence.”

  “Yes I do; I just can’t have one there.”

  “Can’t I say no?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

 
“Because I’ve got no where else to put him.”

  She flashed her smile at me, and I was a little taken aback by how, just, perfect that smile of hers was. Her eyes seemed to twinkle just a little. That’s when I knew I was done for.

  “He can stay,” I said. “But not in my apartment.”

  The wagon dropped us off in front of the Heavy Purse. The tavern was already well on its way to being in full gear. Those who were busy drinking their lunch outside eyed Nadya and me — well, more Nadya than me — as we manhandled the crate out of the wagon and around to my apartment door.

  “There’s a kid and his dad on the second floor,” I said before I opened the door. “So we’ll bring Hellion to the third floor, okay?”

  She nodded, adjusting her grip on the crate. The mimic was heavy, surprisingly so. Between the two of us, we struggled like we were moving a couch. Just a little shorter. The real adventure was getting the damn thing out of the crate. Once we were in the room, I remembered we’d nailed the top shut, so that meant locating a dagger or two I didn’t care about. Then, while Nadya stood on top, I levered around the edges until the top was free to come off.

  We flipped it off, and I grunted as I tipped the crate over on its side. Without a word, we both ran for the door.

  At which point, I got to see something I hadn’t expected to ever see: a mimic moving. It just doesn’t seem like a creature that should exist. Though, frankly, I was starting to feel that way about most of the fauna I’d encountered in Glaton. Slowly, very slowly, the chest came out of the crate. The dude had very small legs, and lots of them, peeking out the very bottom of the chest. The way it moved reminded me of both a crab and a millipede. As it scurried along, I could hear a very faint popping sound. Like a suction cup being removed, or a piece of bubble wrap being popped.

  “Weird,” I whispered.

  “This apartment is weird,” Nadya whispered at me.

  I looked away from the mimic for a moment and paid a spot of attention to the place. There was something a little odd about keeping an entire apartment built out like an obstacle course, I suppose. But it didn’t seem anywhere near as bizarre as the chest that was currently settling itself against the northern wall, tucking itself right between my reading nook and my shower.