The Bad Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  Wholly inhuman. Wholly terrifying.

  I was frozen in place. Brain stuttering, as if trying to reboot.

  But then I remembered something. I was taking the bus to Alphabet City to visit a girl I’d met in an after hours club — it was middle of the day, and this woman got on, and sat down in front of me. I was sitting on the upper level, first seat by the door so I could just swing out when I needed. She was right below me, so I could see her lap. She pulled a ziplock bag from her purse, which was filled with a white substance. She opened the bag, and I caught a whiff of something I recognized: mayonnaise. The woman reached into the bag, and she scooped out a handful. A big, impressive handful, and it went straight to her mouth. And again. And again. Lady was just chowing down on mayonnaise out of a bag on the bus. Just a tasty snack, no big deal.

  That lady was weirder than this one.

  And with that beautiful memory of the greatest city in the world, I came back to life. A smile cracked across my face as I came eye to eye with this white-skinned weirdo.

  It opened its mouth.

  “Nah,” I said, “let’s not.”

  I jabbed my hand out and grabbed the thing by the face.

  I have the feeling it was so shocked that I wasn’t frozen in fear that it just didn’t do anything. And since it was the lone enemy I was facing, I pulled out my only big offensive weapon.

  I drained the fucker.

  Chapter 113

  I hate that spell.

  I mean, I love it too. But I mostly hate it.

  Immediately, there was pain. And resistance. So I poured more mana at the problem. I shoved and shoved all the damn magic I had into the creature, with zero concern for how it was going to affect me.

  “Take it all!” I yelled.

  The thing, in response, made a horrible noise, a screeching wailing sort of sound that seemed to transcend being just auditory and somehow was a physical force that pushed against me. So much so that I had trouble holding onto the pale white flesh. But there was this burning rage inside me, that this creature was so full of itself that it thought I was just going to roll over for it. Maybe the paladin would, but not me. I would go out fighting or go out on my own.

  I doubled down, forcing all the mana I had left in one last mystical shove. Then, I was flying. The magical burst from whatever just happened sent me flying like Marty McFly at the opening of the first Back to the Future. I slammed my back against the spire, which was probably for the best because otherwise, I would have fallen off into the graveyard. I slid down, and for good measure, got a spike in the elf-balls for my effort.

  Wincing, I fell over, and rolled down the roof, coming to a stop against Leofing’s leg.

  “Good news,” he said. “The goddess said she wants me to watch over you.”

  “Fan-tastic,” I sputtered, and I swear smoke came out of my mouth.

  Whizz-bang! You’ve absorbed the following from a Corpseking: +8 Constitution, -2 Wisdom, +12 Intelligence, Undead Control, Undead Mastery, Disease Immunity, +95 Humanoid Anatomy, +55 Necromancy, +10 Religion, and the following spells: Raise Dead, Animate Skeleton, Animate Flesh, Stitch Flesh and Bone, ReAnimate, Disrupt Life, Vicious Wrench, Heal Undead, Hold Monster, Hold Humanoid, Banish Undead.

  GG! You’ve killed a corpseking (lvl 41 Undead Master)

  You’ve earned 0 xp! What a might hero you are!

  Effective. But on the other hand, I only had three hitpoints remaining, and was currently under the paralyzed and poisoned conditions. I had, according to my handy dandy info screen, 114 broken bones.

  Finally Leofing was up on his feet, jumping around and shaking out his muscles like he was about to work out. I noticed that his wounds had healed nicely, his bones had popped back into place, and those rather horrific hematomas had disappeared. He gave me a small smile, and very quickly had his armor on again. He winked, and plucked the shield from my hand.

  “Allow me,” he said.

  He set me up, frowned, then laid his hands on me.

  There was a massive warmth that started at my abdomen before spreading out across my entire body.

  “Limit to what I can do at the moment,” he said, “but that should allow your natural healing to do the rest.”

  I was up to half health. And my conditions were healed. Finally, it was nice to have a paladin around.

  Leofing smiled, then kicked his mace up into the air, snatched it and gave the weapon a light swing around. With a little flourish. A wee bit of hotness. He nodded appreciatively at the ghouls all around, but he knelt down at the remains of the corpseking. He scratched his head, poked at it with his mace, then shook his head.

  “What’s this?” he asked, pointing with the mace.

  “Corpseking.”

  “No shit?”

  “That’s what the notification I got for killing it said.”

  “Looks like the goddess was right about you.”

  “Why?”

  “Said you had something to you. But you needed guidance and protection.”

  “Great. She sounds lovely.”

  “She’s a tempestuous mistress. But, such is life.”

  “Are you about to tell me she’s the god of life?”

  “Close. The Goddess of life.”

  “Ahh.”

  “Are you ready to move?”

  “I feel like hot shit.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and he hoisted me up on his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

  “Hey—”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.”

  He carried me down the corpsecase and set me on my feet on the soil.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Out,” he said, slamming the visor down on his helm.

  I had a sense of what levels meant, how someone a few levels higher might have more strength or skill or something, but I had never really grasped the difference someone that much higher might have. Which also made me wonder how he’d been taken down. Or how many undead had come at him to get him far enough down in health to be close to death.

  We got about a hundred yards before a roving horde of zombies caught sight of us.

  I hesitated at the fifty or so undead monsters.

  Leofing did no such thing. He strode right into the middle of the group and punched the ground. Bright white light exploded off of him in an expanding orb, and basically disintegrated the zombies it touched. A single, shambling figure remained, and it stumbled towards me. Leofing stood up and threw his mace at the creature. The mace shot straight and true, going through the creature’s head. Then Leofing held his hand out, and the mace shot back, the haft smacking into the paladin’s leather palm.

  Just like it was any old walk in a graveyard, he was moving again. Just strolling along.

  He noticed I wasn’t following him, so he looked over his shoulder, lifting up his visor a bit.

  “Coming?” he asked.

  And that was just the start. The man was magnificent. He moved so fluidly between attacks, sometimes just using his mace, sometimes just using his magic, sometimes combining both of them. It didn’t matter what was coming up against us — nothing was too much for him. All I had to do was avoid the spray of rotten flesh and the like as we, well, took a walk in a park.

  I’d lost count of how many of the risen dead Leofin had put back down when we came to a lit pathway leading towards a tall gate looming out of the grey-green fog.

  “The exit,” Leofing said, gesturing at the gate.

  I pretended not to notice the goop he flung off his fingers inadvertently while gesturing.

  He hooked his mace onto his belt and lifted the visor from his helm. He wasn’t even sweating.

  I shook my head in disbelief, wondering if I’d ever get to that high a level.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “The sooner the better.”

  So the two of us walked down the lit pathway to the exit.

  Except the door wa
s closed. I mean, the giant gate doors were closed as well, but there was also a small door sized for humans and not giants or wagons. That was the door everyone used. From the looks of things, the big doors had rarely, if ever, been opened. There were some very large gouge marks on the heavy stone, which was a pretty clear indication something big and bad had engaged in a concerted effort to exit, but didn’t seem to have been successful.

  Leofing walked up and banged on the little door.

  A torch dropped from above.

  Leofing picked the torch up and held it near his face while he looked up.

  “Still alive,” he called up.

  “Two to come out,” came a call from the top of the wall.

  The door opened, and a host of guards greeted us there, all with weapons pointed in our direction. Or the direction of the Shade.

  We went through the door, and entered into a caged area.

  The door closed behind us, and it was like we’d entered a completely different world. It was quiet. Warm. Dry. I hadn’t realized how awful the Shade was, the perpetual gloom, the noisiness of the perpetual screams and cries and the like. Leofing leaned against the metal bars and pulled his helm off. He shook out his hair a little, wiped his hand on his tabard, and then smoothed out his mustache, adding a slight curl on either end.

  Outside the cage was a more typical room. There were racks of weapons, spears mostly, along one wall, some benches and chairs, a small bookshelf, and a pitcher of what I assume was water. The guards had mostly relaxed at this point, and were busy replacing their weapons. Two stayed next to us, spears leveled, ready to strike at either Leofing or me. It didn’t seem to bother the paladin in the least.

  An older man in black robes came into the room, and chains were removed from his hands. A mancer. He rubbed his wrists for a second while staring at Leofing. Then at me. Then back to Leofing. The old man shook his hands out, and I was struck by how long and bony his fingers seemed.

  He closed his eyes and extended his arms out towards the cage.

  I felt a little tingle pass over me.

  The mancer’s eyes went a little wide, and he stepped close to the cage, looking straight into my eyes.

  “Boy,” he whispered, “who is your teacher? Tell me quick and tell me true.”

  “Uh, Careena?”

  He nodded, then turned back to guards and announced: “They are living and there are no passengers.”

  Immediately, the room relaxed, and all the guards stood down. Some actually sat down. The guards unlocked one wall of the cage, and pulled it out the way. Leofing walked out, helm under one arm, shield hanging on his back by a leather strap.

  I followed.

  We went through a few corridors before finding another door and another guard. He smiled at Leofing and me, then opened the door. I’ve never been quite so happy to see sunlight.

  The city was awake, and morning was upon us. I strode out into Glaton feeling like I’d had a second chance at life. Well, that’s a bit much. It was more like coming out of an all-night binge without losing your wallet, your phone, or your friends. Nothing terrible seemed to have happened, and I had some good stories to tell.

  Someone slapped me on the back, hard enough I took a few steps back.

  “Good ride in the Shade,” Leofing said, “eh?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Regular party.”

  I hailed a carriage and hopped in. I was definitely a little surprised when Leofing jumped in after me.

  “Where are we headed?” he asked.

  “You’re coming with me?”

  “Did you already forget my mission?”

  “Clearly.”

  “The goddess said I’m to look after you.”

  “I thought that just meant getting me out of the Shade?”

  “Might come as a surprise to you, but talks with gods are rarely that direct.”

  “Okay, well, what do you think?”

  “I think I might see where you’re going.”

  “I’m going to go home and get changed.”

  “Wise move,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “We are quite disgusting.”

  Chapter 114

  I felt vaguely human again after a shower and a change of clothes. Which wasn’t quite right, seeing as I was an elf. Tough to remember to change those common sayings around. Leofing was in the midst of polishing his armor. Then he asked if he could use the bath as well.

  I told him it was fine.

  We had a fantastically awkward moment where I had to teach him how to use a shower, since this was the first place he’d been with indoor plumbing. The fact that it was capable of hot water blew his mind.

  I didn’t let him follow me, waiting for him to be in the water before calling out that I’d be back in a bit. Then I raced down the stairs and jogged through the cobblestone streets until I got enough distance from the apartment building that I figured he wouldn’t be able to follow me.

  At which point I beelined for the Biscuit’s Union. We needed to talk.

  The place was busy, which made sense. A coffee shop in the morning. They were slinging coffee and breakfast goodies around at a rather breakneck pace, though as soon as one of the workers noticed me, they opened a door to the back. I stepped around the counter and went into the kitchen. It was going full tilt, and even the short walk through to the guild master, Victor Woolf’s office was enough to make me sweat. I had no idea how people could possibly work there full time.

  I knocked at the door to Woolf’s office.

  I waited.

  And waited, wondering if maybe I should huff and puff and blow it down.

  Instead, I waited longer.

  And snatched a cinnamon roll from a passing cart before waiting some more. I had no idea how long I was there — one of the joys of life without a watch — but it seemed like the length of a bible and a half before the door finally opened to reveal a smiling Rowland.

  “We were just speaking about you,” he said, revealing Victor the guild master sitting at the desk.

  I walked into the room and sat down without waiting to be asked.

  “So, I’m curious about something,” I said. “What exactly do I get for being in this guild?”

  “Protection,” Rowland said. “Opportunities for advancement, plenty of—”

  “Exactly. Right there, first thing: protection.”

  “Did something happen?” Woolf asked in a tone that almost made me believe that he was concerned.

  “I’d say so,” I snapped. “I got thrown in the Shade last night. With nothing.” Okay, so I lied a little. A minor embellishment.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Rowland said, leaning against the guild master’s desk. “I have never had the misfortune to step foot inside that accursed place, but I have heard plenty of tales.”

  “It’s as bad as you think.”

  “But you made it out okay. Looks like you’re whole here this morning. No limbs missing.”

  “Or new limbs grown,” Woolf added.

  “That can happen?” Rowland asked the guild master.

  “Three-Legged Thomas.”

  “I thought that was because of his—”

  “No, he went into the Shade, came up against something particularly nasty, and walked away, one leg split into two perfect, if smaller, copies. Though walk might not be the correct verb — it was more of a hobble.”

  “I have all my limbs,” I said, “but I think you guys are missing what I’m saying. Just because I made it out okay doesn’t mean it’s something that should have happened.”

  “Are you blaming us for this?” Rowland asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “It happened because of you.”

  “We didn’t throw you in there. Do you think this is some sort of hazing or initiation—”

  “It was the Iron Silents. They picked me up, they threw me in, and they did it because you talked to them, and I guess they didn’t like that.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “Oh? Tell m
e you have something more to say.”

  “Of course we do,” Woolf said. “But we are trying to discover what things are happening in the city. What has happened in the city. We are getting the lay of the land.”

  “You know they’re trying to claim Old Town. They want me to pay protection money to them.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rowland said. “They can’t do that.”

  “And yet they are, and insisting on an absurd amount of coin as well.”

  “How much?” Woolf asked.

  “Two thousand gold.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath from both men, very clearly surprised at the amount.

  “That’s rather steep,” Rowland said.

  “It’s certainly a means of making a statement,” Woolf replied.

  Rowland pushed off the desk and walked around to the couch, where he plopped down and put his feet up. He pulled a pipe out of somewhere, and stuck it in his mouth.

  “The question is why,” Rowland said, lighting his pipe. “There must be more to this.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, “but I don’t know what it is or might be. I know they don’t like me because I refused to sell my building to them.”

  “And now you have two buildings,” Woolf said. “Do you think jealousy is a factor?”

  “Why would an entire gang be jealous just because I’ve got two buildings?”

  “Because in that same time period, they have nothing.”

  “Less than nothing,” Rowland said. “I did some extra digging into them, and though they’re quite new, they’ve made some interesting, um, shall we call them choices?”

  “Rowland,” Woolf began, putting his feet up on the desk, “I am disappointed you didn’t lead with this information. If you knew something about these Iron Silents, I should know it. And given your charge’s interactions with the group, don’t you think he should be informed as well?”