Critical Failures V

by Robert Bevan

  “I should probably clean this up.” He set Nabi down and hauled the bodies, one by one, out of sight into the tunnel. He could hide them better later if he needed to.

  The cauldron was about half full from geyser water that had fallen back down into it. The top of the decanter was cool to the touch, but the water inside the cauldron was beginning to heat up.

  By the time Cooper was done hosing the blood away as best he could, the water in the cauldron had come to a boil. He didn’t know the proper way to cook giant rat, but he supposed there couldn’t be much more to it than chucking the carcass into the pot.

  After having done so, he considered that the rat might not even be necessary. Garlic and carrots might have been enough for flavor, and the rice would have made it filling enough. But fuck it. The deed was done, and the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face to sleep right now was the promise of sweet sweet protein.

  There were a number of factors that made it unlikely that Cooper would ever write a cookbook, the two biggest of which were that he could neither cook nor write. But if he did, he would include one tip in the boiled giant rat recipe which he was quite pleased with himself for having discovered.

  Let the tail hang over the side of the cauldron. That makes it easy to pull up the meat and test whether or not it’s sufficiently cooked.

  That was pretty fucking clever. Cooper hoped that he hadn’t recently leveled up and inadvertently blown an ability score point on Intelligence.

  After about thirty seconds, Cooper pulled the skinned rat out by the tail. He wasn’t sure what rat meat was supposed to look like when done, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t it.

  He’d have to be patient. With little else to do, he sat back against the wall of the sewer tunnel, rested his eyes, and thought about what other recipes might go in his fantasy cookbook.

  What about fried –

  He had the weirdest fucking dream about a fairy paladin, her face smeared with blood, staring icy-eyed at something Cooper couldn’t see, against a backdrop of a raging forest fire. Her butterfly-like wings fluttered uselessly, as she was weighed down by heavy full plate armor. She wielded a long slim blade in one hand, and a bright blue ball of magical energy in the other. It was like Tinkerbell had finally had enough of Hook’s shit.

  Sleep well, new friend. Our work has only just begun.

  Chapter 13

  Katherine parted ways with the driver outside a festival taking place in the city center. He’d seemed a little less on edge since they passed through Northgate, most likely figuring that she was less likely to murder him in a crowded city. But he seemed even more relieved to now be rid of her for good.

  “Good day, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat as his horse pulled away. “Peace of the New God be with you.”

  He was facing away from her, so she gave him the finger. “And also with you.”

  She hadn’t drunk any of the booze she’d swiped from the Piss Bucket Tavern during the ride, because she felt like it might be a breach of etiquette. What if he didn’t approve? This was an old-timey place. What if they had weird views about women drinking in public? Or open bottle laws? The ride was already awkward enough as it was.

  But now that it was over, she thought she’d more than earned a swig.

  Getting the Bag of Holding open was a little tricky, given that her left arm was wrapped around Scratchy the Overplump Ungrateful Owl.

  Still, her left hand was free enough to at least hold the lip of the bag. She reached in with her right hand and was just about to say the word “liquor” when two copper coins dropped into the bag.

  “The fuck?” Katherine looked up. Captain Righteous was staring down at her, his familiarly judgmental eyes shining through his Kingsguard-issue visor. He and a younger, fatter Kingsguard were on horseback. The other one didn’t even glance her way, his attention alternating between the crowd on the streets and the piece of paper he was holding open in front of him.

  “The New God is watching,” said Captain Righteous. “He’ll know if you spend that on wine. Now run along and let gentler folk enjoy the festival.”

  “You motherfucking son of a fuck!” Katherine didn’t say. Instead, she bowed her head and croaked out, “Thank you.”

  Was one night in a swamp enough to make her completely unrecognizable? She walked away with a hobble to reinforce his assumption that she was... well, whatever he was assuming she was.

  There would be time enough to drink after she’d reunited with Tim. When she was far enough away from Captain Righteous, she straightened her gait and picked up her pace. It was dark now, and she remembered that getting Tim patched up was only the first item on the list. She also needed to track down whoever Tanner sold those dice to, get them back, and return them to the Whore’s Head before the three of them were hunted down like –

  Shit.

  Tim stared at her from a lamppost. It wasn’t really Tim, of course. It was just a charcoal sketch on a wanted poster. Some of the features were less than perfect, but it was totally Tim. She rushed to the post and ripped the paper down. In immediate retrospect, that was almost certainly illegal. She looked around for any sign of the Kingsguard.

  The only people who seemed to have taken notice of her were two men with heads like hyenas. Katherine bared her teeth and hissed at them, and they continued on their way.

  When they moved, Katherine spotted an identical wanted poster on the wall just behind where they’d been standing.

  She looked more closely at the listed charges on the poster she was holding. “Who the fuck was that minotaur? A senator or something?”

  Scanning the area, she found Tim’s picture hanging everywhere, now that she was looking for it.

  Now she had to get Tim out of town and hide him somewhere safe. Just add that on to the growing mountain of impossible shit she had to do.

  Finding the area called Shallow Grave was easy enough, but finding the exact building where she’d left her brother proved trickier. Every dilapidated shithole building looked just like every other.

  The deeper into Shallow Grave she got, the more deserted the place became. Not that anyone was giving her any trouble. Far from it, the residents of this part of town were giving her plenty of space. She really needed a mirror and a shower.

  She’d left Tim in a pretty deserted area, so she hoped she was getting closer. She thought she recognized a few signs on some boarded up shops, but she could’ve just been conjuring memories to make herself believe she was going in the right direction.

  “Butterbean?” she called out. A sharp bark came from somewhere ahead.

  After running about twenty seconds toward the bark, she suddenly knew exactly where she was. The building where Tim was being cared for was directly in front of her. She ran across the street and went inside.

  In the back room, there was no sign of Tim except for the bloodied rags which the Sister of Healing had cleaned his wounds with. Likewise, there was no sign of the Sister or Tanner either. Just Butterbean, who still had the fenberry bag in his mouth, and some poor chump tied up and gagged on the floor.

  “Who the fuck are you? Where’s my brother?”

  The man on the floor made a show of looking down at his gag.

  “Oh, right.” Katherine leaned over to remove the gag, then stopped. She knew exactly who this was. It was another Mordred. It must be. Who else would Tim have left tied up on the floor?

  She set the owl on the floor, which rolled onto its back and blinked helplessly.

  Mordred stared at the owl with eyes nearly as wide and round as its own.

  “I’m going to remove that gag,” said Katherine. “If you utter a single sound that isn’t a direct response to one of my questions, I will slit your throat from ear to ear, just like we did to that other one of you. Do you understand?”

  Mordred nodded. Katherine removed the gag.

  “Please,” said Mordred. “There’s no need for all that. I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know.�
��

  “Tim was here before. What happened to him? Where did he go?”

  Mordred looked at Katherine’s ears. “Might you be referring to a half-brother?”

  “That’s real fucking funny. You’re about to be laughing through a gaping hole in your neck.”

  “I’m sorry! I meant no offense. He was here, with a woman. It couldn’t have been that long ago.”

  “Was he... healthy?”

  “I suppose so. I’ve not studied the healing arts, but –”

  Katherine flicked him in the nose.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Cut the nerd shit, fatty.”

  “Fatty?”

  “Did Tim’s legs work?” Katherine readied her middle finger and thumb for another flick.

  “YES!”

  “And he was walking around on them okay?”

  “He looked fine to me.”

  A thought occurred to Katherine. Mordred had identified Tim and the Sister of Healing. He made no mention of Tanner. Had he ditched her? She couldn’t remember the word that black people liked to be called in this world, but she didn’t have time for any PC bullshit.

  “Was there no one else with them? A black companion?”

  Mordred looked puzzled at first, then his eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh yes, of course. I don’t know how I forgot to mention him. He was sitting on my head!”

  That was weird. Probably some kind of interrogation technique. That wasn’t the sort of lie you made up to sell your story.

  “Where did they go?”

  “They were headed for the Shadow Crescent, in the Fertile Desert. If you hurry, you may be able to catch up to them.”

  Katherine put the gag back in Mordred’s mouth. She didn’t like having to trust his word, but it was all she had. Besides, her gut told her he was being truthful. She folded her arms and tried to fill in the missing puzzle pieces.

  Tim is touch and go. If the Sister of Healing doesn’t act fast, he’s going to die.

  She finds some expired fenberries, or some substitute herb, and does an emergency procedure, which works miraculously well. Maybe she dug up an old healing potion or something.

  Mordred hones in on their location with magic or some shit.

  Tanner gets the jump on Mordred, and they tie him up and interrogate him.

  Under duress, Mordred tells them that they can find the dice at this Crescent Shadow place.

  Tim doesn’t recognize an obvious trap because he wants to redeem himself, or because he’s shitfaced.

  They keep Mordred tied up here, knowing Katherine will be along shortly. She’s supposed to deliver Mordred to the Whore’s Head, and let them know that Tim will be back with the dice soon.

  “Well, Mordred,” said Katherine. “It appears you have me in quite a pickle.”

  Mordred looked up at her confusedly. “Hnnnggg?”

  “I can’t take you with me. So that leaves me two choices. I can either run to the Whore’s Head, and let Tim walk into the trap you’ve got waiting for him.”

  “Hnnnngggg!”

  “Or I can catch up with Tim, giving you more time to escape, or for one of your other Mordreds to come rescue you.”

  “Hnnngg hnnngggg hng hnnnnngg!”

  “I’m not gonna tell you. You can sit there and stew on it. Come on, Butterbean.” Katherine removed the bag from Butterbean’s mouth, picked up her swollen owl, and walked out the front door.

  “Barney!” cried a vaguely familiar looking man in sorcerer robes. A glowing arrow hovered by his side, aimed at Katherine. She’d seen Julian cast that spell enough times to recognize it as a Magic Missile.

  “Stop right there, Katherine,” said Frank. He was pointing a crossbow at her.

  It wasn’t as friendly a greeting as Katherine would have liked, but it solved her conundrum.

  “I’m really glad to see you guys.”

  “Cut the shit,” said Frank. “Hand over my dice bag, nice and slow.”

  Katherine looked at the bag in her hand.

  “What have you done with my owl?” screamed the other guy. “You sadistic bitch!”

  Katherine looked at the owl in her other arm. “Your owl? Have you been spying on me?”

  “You and your brother stole my dice,” said Frank. “I suspect Tim was the mastermind behind it, and he might not have even told you what he was doing, which is the only reason I haven’t shot you yet. Give me the dice, and we can all walk away.”

  “Listen, Frank. I know how this looks. But I don’t have your dice. Neither does Tim.”

  “I really didn’t want to have to shoot you, but now I kinda do.”

  “Just hear me out first, okay? There’s another Mordred tied up in the back room behind me. Tim is trying as hard as he can to get your dice back, but he’s walking into a trap. I need you to keep Mordred in custody while I go rescue my brother. Then we can focus on finding the dice.”

  “Why should I believe a single word of that horseshit story?”

  Katherine sighed. “Because I’m not going to give you any other choice.” She flung Frank’s dice bag as high into the air as she could, and tossed the bloated owl to the sorcerer.

  “Barney!” cried the sorcerer. His Magic Missile fizzled out as his concentration broke.

  “Are you insane!” cried Frank. He dropped his crossbow as he prepared to catch the falling sack.

  Katherine picked up the crossbow and aimed it at Frank just as he caught the bag, as well as a faceful of fenberry goop.

  “Oh my god it burns!” Frank desperately scraped the yellow goop from his eyes, wiping it on his shirt and pants.

  Katherine almost felt sorry for him. The way he way he was spreading that shit around, he was going to be worse off than that fucking owl.

  “Sorry, Frank. That’s gonna sting for a while. It should wear off after a couple of days.” She turned to the sorcerer, who was holding his fat familiar with both hands, his expression a mix of shock and fury. “Get Mordred back to the Whore’s Head. I’ll send word when we get the dice back.”

  Before anyone could answer, she ran off to find someone who could tell her where the hell this Crescent Shadow place was.

  Chapter 14

  The king’s Arcane Minister frowned down at Denise, the strands of his long white beard swaying gently in the arid desert breeze. “Do you understand why you’ve been sent here?”

  “Because the king’s gayer than five fags in a barrel of lube?”

  Randy nudged Denise with his elbow. “Ain’t you got us in enough trouble?”

  “And you, Sir Randal,” said the Arcane Minister. “The king has granted your request. Posters have been placed on every corner of the city. If the halfling still resides in Cardinia, he shall be apprehended shortly.”

  Denise snorted. “Good one, Minister.”

  “The minister glanced down at Denise, then addressed Randy. “Your insistence on sharing this wretched woman’s punishment is the only thing that saved her from being hanged. Truly, you are a fine representative of the New God. Few men would show such courage in the face of certain death to spare the life of such a lowly creature.”

  “Listen here, motherfucker! Who are you callin’ a lowly –”

  With barely a flick of the wrist, the minister sent Denise five feet backward to land ass-down in the sand.

  “So...” said Randy. “All’s we need to do is walk out of the desert and back to town, and all is forgiven?”

  “The Path of Penance is more treacherous than you think. It is no mere stroll through the sand. Many who begin the journey come to find they would have preferred a quick and simple hanging instead.”

  “Well shit,” said Denise. “If I wanted to die in the desert, I wouldn’t have paid them niggers to break my legs before I was deployed to Iraq.”

  Randy shot Denise a warning glare.

  “Sorry. Colored gentlemen.”

  “Pray to the New God,” said the Arcane Minister. “Repent for your sins against the Crown and b
asic decency.”

  Randy bowed respectfully. “May the peace of –”

  “How about one quick roll in the sand before you get on your way?” asked Denise. “Ain’t no one got to know.” She twirled the end of her wispy beard between her fingers in what Randy assumed was supposed to be a seductive manner.

  The minister cringed. “The desert holds many hidden dangers. It would be wise to conserve your energy.”

  Denise smirked and nodded. “Can’t get it up no more, huh?” She spit in her palm and rubbed her hands together. “Why don’t you hike up that pretty dress and whip out the ol’ Dumbledong. I’ll show you magic like you ain’t never seen.”

  “Um...” The minister was visibly uncomfortable. “I have some... urgent business to attend to back at the palace. Good luck to you both.” With a snap of his fingers and a puff of grey smoke, he was gone, leaving Randy and Denise alone in an expanse of rippled white sand that stretched out as far as they could see in every direction.

  Denise thrust a middle finger at the dissipating smoke. “Fag!”

  “Damn it, Denise!” said Randy. “That’s exactly the kind of behavior that got us sent here in the first place.”

  “Don’t give me none of your homo-liberal bullshit, Randy. I’ll say whatever I goddamn well please. Freedom of speech is the cornerstone of democracy.”

  “We’re not in a democracy!” shouted Randy. “This is a monarchy, and you called the king a cocksucking queer right to his face!”

  “Yeah, well whatever. You say potater, and I say tomater.”

  “You got to stop throwin’ yourself at folks like that, Denise. Have a little self-respect.” Randy looked away from her. “And maybe a little... self-awareness?”

  Denise cleared her throat. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

  “I just don’t think you’re as attractive a woman as you seem to think you are.”

  “The fuck would you know about it, Cockophile Dundee?”