by Robert Bevan
“If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, “what is the exact wording of the law my friends and I have allegedly broken?”
The elder smiled. “Our laws are not written, young lady. We judge what is right or wrong as the situation is presented to us.”
“So you just make it up as you go along?”
“You could choose to look at it like that if you like. Now, do you deny the charge leveled against you?”
Stacy looked down. “No.”
The elder turned to Julian. “And you?”
“No.”
“And you, half-orc?”
Cooper pulled his finger out of his nose. “Huh?”
“How do you plead?”
Cooper got down on his knees and folded his hands. “Please let me ride on your back and hold on to your titties.”
The elder narrowed his eyes curiously at Cooper, then looked back down at his paper. “Let us move on to the next charge, shall we?”
Stacy sighed. “Sure.”
“Very well. Tampering with the city’s water supply.” He looked up sternly. “This is a very serious crime.”
“That is some very serious bullshit!” said Stacy. She raised her hands defensively. “Excuse my language. That’s the Zone of Truth talking. We did no such thing.”
Julian raised his hand timidly. “I might have.”
“What are you talking about? We’ve been together since we got forcefully pulled into this backwards-ass elven hillbilly nightmare.” Stacy looked at the elder. “No offense. Zone of Truth and all that. The point is, none of us have had the time or the privacy to go take a dump in a well or anything.”
“I untied one of the threads,” said Julian. “While I was up in the tree. It was an accident.”
The old elf looked at him sternly. “Accident or not, it is a costly mistake to remedy. Of the three of you, you should know best how difficult it will be to find the fallen strand. Elven silk is nigh-invisible.”
“Whoa!” Julian’s reaction seemed disproportionate to what the old elf had said, and inappropriate for having charges leveled against him. He looked at Stacy. “I know all about Elven silk. That’s what your cloak is made of!”
Stacy supposed it was one of those game things, when you suddenly realize that you have knowledge that you didn’t possess in the real world, like how to use a sword more effectively than just clanging it against your opponent’s. Stacy had already had many such revelations during her short time in this world. And sure, it’s exciting. But now was a time to remain focused.
“Is there anything else?” she asked the elder.
The old elf squinted at the bottom of the page, then looked up at Stacy, then Julian, and finally at Cooper. “Brutal mutilation of a dire boar’s genitals?”
Cooper looked out the window. “That was also an accident.”
“It is clear to me that you have little to no remorse for your wrongdoings,” said the elder. “Your atonement shall come when you’ve filled fifty thousand sacks in the citrus orchard.”
Holy shit. They’d just been sentenced. It was finished. What the hell is fifty thousand sacks?
The younger elf was assisting the elder to stand up. They were leaving. Stacy couldn’t let this be the end. She had to say something.
“What about our stuff?”
The old elf paused. “Your stuff?”
“Yes. Our belongings. You’re just going to let us keep them?”
“We are not thieves, young lady. If your possessions will help you harvest vegetables more efficiently, I recommend you use them. In the meantime, I recommend you learn to live in peace with nature, lest you rest in peace as you return to it.” With that, the two elves walked out the front door, which failed to close behind them. No vines grew over the windows.
Stacy walked out the door, just to see if she could. Once outside the house, she turned around and looked through the doorway at Julian.
“Julian! Your serape is covered in spiders!”
“FUCK!” cried Julian, whipping the garment over his head and throwing it as far away from himself as he could. He shivered and brushed his hands down both sides of his tunic while Stacy and Cooper laughed at him.
He stopped brushing, looked down at his bundled, spider-free serape, then up at Stacy. “What’s going on?”
“I was just messing with you. Honestly, I can’t believe you fell for the old ‘There’s a spider on your shirt’ line.”
“I saw a man turn into a sparrow today. These guys could have spider-summoning powers for all I know. Do we really have nothing better to do than play grade school pranks on each other?”
“Keep your skirt on,” said Stacy. “I needed to see if the Zone of Truth worked out here. Looks like it’s confined to the house.”
Chapter 28
The benefits to being a fighter were obvious. Katherine didn’t kick quite as much ass as she had when she was a vampire, but she felt confident about holding her own in a brawl. But outside of a couple of lousy spells and the companionship of a wolf, Katherine hadn't noticed a lot of benefits to being a druid, at least until now.
She was running through brambles and thick forest underbrush like none of that shit was there. She scarcely touched a leaf as she passed. The best tracker in the world wouldn’t be able to follow her trail, and even if they could, they wouldn’t be able to move nearly as quickly as she could. Still, as fantasy superpowers go, being able to run through the woods at normal speed was kind of lame.
And the benefit didn’t last as long as she’d hoped. The briers and brambles thinned out as the pine trees grew taller and thicker the farther west she traveled. Also, she still didn’t know where she was going.
Katherine was running past the biggest goddamn trees she’d ever seen. A shin-deep layer of brown pine needles covered the forest floor. Pine cones the size of cars dotted the landscape as well. Getting hit by one of those falling from a branch might well kill a person.
She slowed her pace and kept a wary eye on the branches above her to watch for falling cones. The sharp crack of a fallen branch brought her attention back to ground level.
A centaur stood leaning casually against a tree, staring at Katherine with one eyebrow cocked. It was like he was going for some kind of James Dean suaveness which he couldn’t quite pull off due to his being half barnyard animal.
His front left hoof was positioned forward on top of the recently cracked branch. It wasn’t a failed Stealth check. He was purposely alerting her to his presence.
“Why do you cover your skin in bladeblack?” The centaur’s expression changed from one of curiosity to one of amusement. “Are you trying to impersonate a Drow?”
Katherine couldn’t answer truthfully, lest she have to do more explaining than she had time for. Also, the centaur’s amusement at the idea reinforced Captain Righteous’s and Lady Vivia’s opinion on just how stupid trying to impersonate a Drow had been in the first place. She racked her brain for some semi-plausible alternative explanation.
Camouflage?
Religious cult?
Coal mining?
Football!
“It keeps the glare out of my eyes.”
“Oh,” the centaur said disinterestedly. He stood up straight and took a step toward her. “The Great Wood can be a dangerous place for a young lady all alone.”
Not this shit again. Katherine restrained her eye-rolling instinct. “It might be just as dangerous for a centaur all alone.”
The centaur smiled and held up a wineskin. “Lucky for us, we’re not alone anymore.” He tilted back his head and drank deeply from it, spilling some of the purple wine down his chin and muscled chest. This may not have been his first skinful. He cocked an eyebrow at Katherine. “Care to have a drink with a lonely centaur?”
“I’d really love to.” Katherine wasn’t just being polite. Even if this guy was leering at her like she was the one he’d finally drunk enough to settle for at last call, she could really go for some wine. “But I’m in
kind of a hurry. I need to get to a place called The Fertile Desert. Do you know it?”
“Sure I do. And I can get you there a lot faster on four legs than you can on two.”
“Are you offering me a ride?”
“In exchange for the pleasure of your company over a couple of drinks, yes.”
That sounded very reasonable to Katherine. “You’ve got yourself a deal,...”
“Call me Dyril.”
“I’m Katherine. It’s nice to meet you, Dyril.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. Please, have a seat.” He gestured at an exposed root, then twisted his torso to dig around in one of the saddlebags he wore on his horse half.
“So... Do you live around here?” Katherine didn’t have a lot of experience making small talk with people in this world.
“Ah, here we go!” said Dyril, producing a glass bottle full of Windex-blue liquid and a silver cup. He poured the contents of the former into the latter until it was nearly full, then swirled the drink around. “Give it a moment to breathe. Let the flavors mingle.”
“You didn’t need to go to all that trouble,” said Katherine. “I would have been fine with whatever you were drinking before.” She didn’t have the most refined tastes in the world. She was more utilitarian with her drinking, not the sort to let a drink ‘breathe’ or allow time for ‘flavor mingling’. But as long as this guy was buying, she’d endure a little snobbery. She only hoped he wouldn’t ask her to describe the bouquet, or whatever kind of bullshit those wine aficionados said to each other.
Dyril waved the cup under his nose, breathed in deeply, then smiled. “Perfect.” He bent down to offer the cup to Katherine.
Katherine accepted the cup. The drink appeared a shade purpler than what was in the bottle, but light reflecting off the silver might account for that. She took a sip.
“Oh, that’s good.” It tasted like store brand grape juice and Robitussin. But Katherine had tasted worse. Hell, she’d knowingly bought worse when times were especially lean at the Chicken Hut.
“It pleases me that you like it.” Dyril drank from his wineskin, keeping his eyes on Katherine.
Katherine took a bigger sip, relishing the soothing effect of alcohol coursing through her bloodstream, thankful once again for no longer being a vampire. Now that she was getting accustomed to it, she didn’t find the taste as off-putting as she had initially.
“Do you always wander around alone in the woods carrying around a stocked bar and an extra cup?”
“One never knows when or where one might make a new friend. I find it’s best to be prepared. May I fill your cup?”
“Can I at least have another drink first?” Katherine laughed at her own joke. Dyril stared blankly at her. Cooper would have gotten it. She thought of another one. “Let’s not go putting the cart before the horse!”
Dyril’s left eye twitched. At least, Katherine thought it did. Her vision was suddenly a little blurry.
She blinked until Dyril came into focus, a look of disapproval on his face. “Perhaps you’ve had enough.”
“Oh shit,” said Katherine. “Was that racist? I didn’t mean... Holy shit that stuff sneaks up on you.” She grabbed a knot on the root to keep herself balanced as she stifled a yawn.
“Are you quite all right?” asked Dyril.
“I’m good. I just need a minute to – Jesus Christ!” Leaning sideways, Katherine caught sight of Dyril’s eight dicks. She blinked.
Only four dicks. She blinked again.
Okay, just the one dick. But wow, was it just hangin’ free. That was probably natural for a centaur. He’d have looked pretty goofy wearing pants. Katherine laughed at the thought.
“Does my masculinity amuse you?”
“Huh? No. I was just picturing you in jean shorts. Don’t ask me why. I think I’m a little drunk.”
“Perhaps you won’t find it so funny when I’m inside you.”
“Ha!” said Katherine. “I’m not that drunk, Ponyboy. Can you just give me a ride back to the dorms. I don’t feel so good.” She shook a sudden wave of dizziness out of her head.
Dyril narrowed his sixteen pairs of eyes at her. “Don’t you mean the Fertile Desert?”
“Yeah, that’s cool. If it’s on your way.”
“Of course. Climb on my back.” Dyril knelt until his massive horse dong was sandwiched between his belly and the ground.
“I really appreciate that.” Katherine put a leg over Dyril’s back, wrapped her arms around his chest, and whispered in his ear. “Can we stop at a 7-11? I want some nachos.”
“I don’t know what any of that means, but please keep talking.”
Katherine suddenly found herself moving really fast. She held on tight, willing herself to focus. “Take it easy, man. My I.D. was good enough for the bartender, but it’s not going to fool a cop.” Trees whirring by her on either side were making her nauseous, so she looked down. “Hey, did you know your lower half is a horse?”
“You’ll know my lower half very well soon enough.”
Katherine felt a wave of distress wash over her. “Dude. Stop the car. I think I’m gonna –” She threw up all over Dyril’s head and back. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
Dyril slowed to a stop. “You disgusting half-elven bitch!”
“It’s not that big a deal,” said Katherine. She had an idea. “I know how to fix this.” With clumsy fingers, she opened her Bag of Holding.
Dyril wiped slimy purple vomit from his shoulders, then felt the back of his head. “It’s in my hair!”
“Take it easy,” said Katherine, wobbling to stay balanced on his back while she lifted the bag. “I’ve got this.”
“Oh, you’ll get it all right. You’ll get it so hard you’ll wish you never –” The forest was calm and silent again when Katherine pulled the bag down over Dyril’s head. His head, arms, and torso disappeared into the bag. She was about to reach in and call forth ‘all the vomit’ when Dyril started bucking.
Katherine flew off and landed hard on the ground. “Ow! Shit, that hurt. What just happened?”
A large grey wolf approached her, but she wasn’t frightened. It seemed somehow familiar.
“Butterbean?”
Butterbean looked past her. Katherine followed his gaze to find a headless horse jumping around like a crazy asshole. A leather bag covered the top of its severed neck.
“What the fuck is up with that horse?” Katherine asked Butterbean. “I’m so fucking wasted. Wake me up in an hour, will you?” She snuggled up against Butterbean, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.
Chapter 29
Julian spent the non-trance hours of the night preparing his spells for the coming day. He didn’t have anything that seemed particularly useful for picking citrus fruits, so he stocked up on Mount spells as it was the spell he’d come to find most versatile in any number of situations.
That hadn’t taken up as much time as he’d hoped, so he spent the remainder of time alone with his thoughts again. He wondered where Tim was, and hoped that he was having at least as much trouble making it to the Crescent Shadow as they were. Maybe he’d also gotten picked up by centaurs for a stupid crime, and they’d see him picking lemons tomorrow. He’d be pissed, for sure, but it might have saved his life if it kept him from falling into whatever trap Mordred no doubt had waiting for him.
If Tim had made it to the Crescent Shadow, Julian hoped he was being careful, and that he would make good use of his rogue skills. He was smart. Maybe he would anticipate a trap and turn it around on Mordred. But then at least one of the Mordreds was probably smart as well, and would take Tim’s brains and rogue skills into account when setting the trap. This line of thinking was exhausting. Julian wished he could sleep.
The sky was just beginning to lighten when Cooper, Stacy, and Ravenus woke up. When they went outside, Julian was surprised to see so many other residents of the town busily about their day picking vegetables out of their gardens, or headed somewhere with various kinds of harve
sting tools.
Julian approached a dwarf with a set of long-handled pruning shears resting on his shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir. You’re not, by chance, headed toward the citrus orchard, are you?”
“Indeed I am,” the dwarf said cheerily. “A fine day for picking, it is.”
“Would you mind if we followed you there? We don’t know the way.”
“Not at all! The more, the merrier! My children have already beaten us there, I’m afraid. We’ll be lucky if there’s fruit left to pick.”
“Your children?” said Stacy.
The dwarf grinned. “I’m only joking!”
“Oh.” Stacy forced a smile. “So your children aren’t doing slave labor to work off your prison sentence.”
The dwarf ceased grinning. “I was joking about there not being any fruit left. The Fertile Desert never fails to provide. And there aren’t many trees in the world fit for the short arms and legs of a dwarf child to climb, so please forgive them if they happen to knock down an orange or two while they’re playing.”
Stacy had struck a nerve. Time for Julian to step back in and smooth it over. He would show humility by being open with his and his friends’ flaws.
“Glad to hear there’s a lot of fruit,” said Julian. “We’re in for fifty thousand sacks each.”
The dwarf raised his eyebrows and whistled. “That’s quite the sentence. What did you folks do, rape a unicorn?”
“It was a dire boar,” said Cooper. “And it wasn’t rape.”
The dwarf stopped walking and looked up at Cooper. “You’re saying she consented?” Leave it to Cooper to make not raping a unicorn sound as bad as possible.
“It was he, and no.”
Julian had been naive to think ‘as bad as possible’ was a truly attainable goal as far as Cooper was concerned.
“What he’s trying to say,” explained Julian as quickly as he could in order to get Cooper to stop talking, “is that he chopped up its genitals.” This wasn’t helping.