by C. M. Carney
That’s when my eyes fell to Vonn’s seat, and I heard his words. “If the Source wills.”
“Could it be?” I asked and looked up as if seeking an imaginary higher power. I stood there for a few minutes, trying to find some sign that my insane thoughts might be true. Customers bumped into me, muttering and complaining. I got odd looks and a few curses, but I heard no voice from on high, received no words of wisdom. I got nothing.
“Well, I guess it is up to me then.”
I spent the last few minutes before the Agent’s arrival saying my goodbyes to my fellow inn-mates. Oddly I would miss them all, even Gaarm. When the Agent entered, I was sitting at Vonn’s and my table, legs crossed and hands in my lap. I activated my Boon Aegis of the High God and went on the attack. This tale has already had too much blood, so I won’t bore you with all the gory details. Suffice to say that with the Boon, the Agent had no chance against me. My only weakness was my own Stamina, and I had Percinius, the zealot priest for that.
Our battle was titanic, and the Agent remained tough, but soon she understood that I would beat her. I was bathed in a constant glow of Percinius' Stamina Boost while her Stamina and Health were being drained quicker than cosmos at a bachelorette party. Eventually she went down.
This time I blocked my eyes ready for the explosion of light that accompanied her Boon. She rose, fully healed and eyed me warily.
“Hey Anveryn, how are things?”
Her eyes widened in shock and then expanded in fear. “How? How did you receive the High God’s blessing?”
“We’re buds, Aluran and I.”
I went on the attack. Trust me, I felt bad about it, especially since she seemed genuinely crushed by the revelation. It is hard being abandoned by those you love and I felt awful for her.
I knew Aluran hadn’t forsaken her, but she would spend the last few moments of her life doubting everything she had ever believed in. Yet instead of making her stop, fall in a heap and cry, she redoubled her attack.
But we both knew it wouldn’t be enough, and despite my misgivings I kept up my furious assault. Several times she tried to kill Percinius, and while technically I didn’t need him to beat her, I would have felt terrible about getting the dude killed; you know, for real killed. So I did my best to shield him from her, and I mostly succeeded. Eventually the Agent went down again, broken and bleeding and staring at me with disbelief. I almost felt bad for her as I raised my hammer over my head.
“Sorry kid,” I said and brought my hammer down on her for the final blow. She died, right there on the hard-packed earth floor of that cruddy inn. This time, it was for real. This time, the loop wouldn’t begin again. I felt guilty about that.
I dropped my hammer, and then the shouting started. When I saw you and your buddies I raised my hands above my head.
*****
“So you see, my story explains it all,” I said. I tried to lean back, but the chains holding my manacled wrists were too short. I tried to look cool, but I was thirsty, my beard really itched, my ass was sore from being parked in this damned chair for hours and the cruddy wool sack they’d given me after confiscating all my stuff was giving me a rash.
“So, let me get this straight,” the gravel crushing against gravel sound of Chief Constable Nahrman’s voice said as he stared with unblinking eyes at me. “You are confessing to, what, 1,000 imaginary murders to explain one actual murder?”
“Wow, is it really that many? You may be better at math than me, so I’ll take your word for it. But yeah, I’m confessing.”
“And you understand that in Harlan’s Watch, murder is a hanging offense?”
“Yup, on the nice hill at the edge of town.”
He gave me an intense stare as if he could just look inside and get the answers he needed. He harrumphed in irritation and tried a different tactic. “So, when I found you, you were digging around her corpse. Searching for something?”
“Yup, the Warrant she carried.”
“The scroll you burned.”
I nodded.
“But why burn it and then confess?”
“The Warrant was all spelled up with powerful magics. It was her badge of authority. If you had read it, it would have compelled you to bring me to Aluran. You wouldn't have had any choice. So I used Flames and huzzah we’re both better off.”
“How do you figure that?”
I leaned forward once more. “You’re a busy man, right? Got a town to protect. Could you protect it if you had to spend weeks escorting me to Avernia?”
“No, I could not.”
“See, I’m on your side. Plus, didn’t all those tips I gave you pan out?”
“You mean the bounties on the murderers, rapists, mob bosses, pyromaniacs, assassins and religious zealots?” The Chief Constable read from the notes his assistant had been taking.
“Don’t forget Gaarm the livestock molester.”
“I was trying to,” he said, face twisted in a scowl.
“Well did they? Pan out?”
“You know they did,” Nahrman said with a grunt. “You saw my men bring the whole damn lot of them in. Needed to triple up the cells too. Harlan’s Watch just ain’t equipped to hold so many criminals at once.”
“It is such a nice town.”
“So, I’m gonna lay out my problem for ya,” the Chief Constable said. “If you’re telling the truth, you are the worst mass murderer in the history of the Realms, and you are wanted by the High God Aluran. If you’re lying, then you're a criminally insane lunatic.”
“An accurate and fair assessment, I’d say.”
“That’s my moral conundrum, you see. If you are a loon, I can’t in good faith execute you. I don’t like executing crazy folk. I’d rather send you to the Brothers of Zeckoth, see if they can’t jumble your brains back into proper position.”
“That sounds awful.”
“More awful than being hung?”
“Well maybe equally awful,” I said, scratching at my beard again.
“You do ponder that statements like that are gonna lean me towards deciding your brains are all scrambled, right?”
I shrugged.
“On the other side if you are sane, then it is my duty as Chief Constable and a loyal servant of the Pantheon to ship you off to Avernia, due to you making me aware of the Warrant issued upon you.”
I shrugged again, trying to bury the panic that idea brought to my guts.
“Now, here’s another wrinkle, and it's one I don’t get. I think you want me to execute you.”
“What makes you think that?” I said, knowing my feigned ignorance was not deceiving the Chief Constable.
“My job is to read people, and I am very good at my job.”
“And you're mighty handsome as well,” I said, giving the man an up and down. He was handsome in the same way a flatulent bulldog was handsome, meaning not at all. He grinned at me the way a man only can when he knows the truth about himself and has accepted that truth.
“You cannot escape, but you’d rather die than give up this Gryph you’re protecting. That is something I can respect. And perhaps I can help you.”
“Huh?” I said.
The Chief Constable turned to his clerk. “Leave us.” The wizened old man looked up in shock, but the Chief Constable was firm. “Now!” The small man collected his papers, quills and ink pots and left the room. “And close the door behind you,” the Chief Constable barked. The old man grumbled but did as commanded.
After we were alone, Nahrman sighed and looked at me. “Now, I know you murdered that woman, and perhaps you believed you had just cause to do so. You are driven by a need to protect those you care about. I understand that. What I don’t understand is how you still believe you can get away with it? You are not a man who is ready to die, which tells me you don’t believe that you will. Care to enlighten me?”
I was becoming uncomfortable. I’d tried Analyze on the Chief Constable the moment I’d been brought to him and I’d received quite the inte
resting prompt. I tried again now and got the same reply.
Analyze has been Blocked by the Chief Constable’s Gift Mark of the Law.
“You already know that won’t work,” he said and pulled his sleeve up to show me a tattoo on his forearm. It was a five-pointed star encased in a circle. As I stared at it, the Mark glowed.
“As long as I am Chief Constable, this Mark will protect me from any use of Analyze. Can’t have every criminal I bring in knowing what I know. You’d have to have reached Grandmaster Tier for Analyze to be effective, and that is something you haven’t managed, yet.”
“Listen,” I said, in a voice that was growing desperate. “I confessed. If you need me to sign something, I’ll sign it, but you need to bring me to that hill and hang me before that bitch can get back here.”
“So she was a Player,” the Chief Constable said. “I suspected as much.”
It had been news to me too. After she lay dead at my feet, I searched through her stuff. The ring, the thing that allowed her to ignore my Order Bolts, wouldn’t come off. Neither did her swords or her armor. The shit was soul bound to her, which could only mean one thing. She was a Player, and after she respawned, she’d be back. I rustled a few non-soul bound things off her body before I was arrested, but most of it was useless, and was confiscated.
“I didn’t know she was a Player, not until after I’d killed her. How’d you know?”
“A few hours after we arrested you her body dissolved.”
“Dissolved?” My face screwed up in disgust.
“Into a rancid puddle of goo. It made quite the mess, and the smell was damn awful, even drove our undertaker from the room.” The Chief Constable leaned forward and looked me right in the eye. “Are you a Player? Is that why you want me to execute you?”
I considered lying, telling the man what he wanted to hear, but somehow, I knew he’d see right through me. “No, I'm not a Player, I’m an NPC.”
“Hmmm,” he said. “You do know that NPCs don’t come back from beyond the Grey Veils, right?”
“I do,” I said and a huge grin crossed my face.
“Yet, you still want me to execute you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m tired and I’ve failed. My only chance of protecting Gryph now is to get away from that bitch, permanently.”
“Okay, well I can’t grant you that wish. To be honest, I don’t think I could stop it if I wanted too. You’ve riled up a hornet’s nest in Harlan’s Watch that I suspect I’ll be dealing with for years.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“I’ll add it to the charges.” With that Chief Constable Nahrman stood and walked to the door. He paused but did not turn back around. “Thank you, you’ve made this town a safer place.” Then he walked out, and I heard the door lock behind me.
13
Harlan’s Watch had experienced nothing like that day. It was like the OJ Simpson white Bronco chase had taken him to the crucifixion from Passion of the Christ, without all the blood and religious persecution. Okay, maybe that was a crappy analogy, but give me a break, I was tired and about to die.
The entire town watched my perp walk up to the hill. I squinted into the harsh sun and towards the freshly erected gallows atop the hill across the bridge. I really wished I could have raised my arms to block the sun, but my hands were tied behind my back. After all, I was a murderer. A tomato splatted against the side of my head and provided some relief from the brightness. There seemed to be a real difference of opinion about me in town. Some of the gawkers howled in rage while others cheered and gave me hearty thumbs up.
The Chief Constable had told me that I’d really riled people up. I'd exposed the local crime syndicate, which made Master Grimslee and his patrons on the town council none too happy. I suspected that many of the ne'er-do-wells that were pummeling me with foodstuffs were either paid by them or had found their ill-gotten wealth suddenly diminished. However, most of the victims of their extortion were among my fans. And I smiled at them with genuine thanks. You’d be surprised how much a warm and genuine smile helps when you’re facing imminent death.
I wore the same rags they’d given me when I’d been booked. I’d asked for my priestly robes back, but the Mayor had said I’d debased the name of my god and was therefore no longer worthy of my title. He didn’t seem to care that my god was dead, and he berated me with moralistic furor. That he was facing a tribunal for his partnership with Grimslee didn’t seem to strike him as hypocritical.
The day was hot and I was thirsty as all hell. Several more tomatoes smashed against me, which didn’t bother me too much, cuz a bit of their juice dribbled down to my mouth. However, the rock that smashed me in the eye and caused me to bleed did annoy me.
“Enough of that,” I heard Chief Constable Nahrman say and then he was by my side, shielding me from further harm with his terrible glare. “He’s already facing the gallows, leave him what dignity he has.” Another rock hit me in the face and Nahrman snapped a finger and pointed at the culprit. One of his deputies walked up and pushed the man back. Then I felt a firm, but gentle hand on my back, guiding me across the bridge where I’d died so many times.
The Chief Constable leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “You’re planning to escape.”
I nearly stumbled, but the constable’s iron grip held me upright. My eyes flashed up to him and I knew his words were not a question, but a statement of fact. I knew those eyes would suss out any lie I could put forth, so I did the only thing I could and nodded.
“I see now. You want me to bring you to the hill which just so happens to be outside the sphere of old Harlan’s negation field.”
My eyes widened, and I knew I’d given it away. Chief Constable Nahrman grinned at me. “Dammit,” I said under my breath.
“So either you have a port stone, or you have an accomplice who can port you out of here.”
“Yes,” I said and hung my head low. I’m sorry Gryph, I’ve failed you. I’d come this far, lived through a thousand deaths, and killed innumerable people, just to fail. Unbidden tears came to my eyes, and I felt like every perp at the end of a Law & Order episode, broken, beaten and ready to spill my guts in a dramatic confession scene.
The Chief Constable stared at me, but I’d used up all my smartass quips or witty comebacks.
“You have earned the wrath of some powerful people, and I do not mean the rabble that runs Harlan’s Watch. You have earned the ire of the Pantheon, of the High God Aluran himself.”
I stopped and looked down at the ground at my feet. “So it’s back to the cell then?”
For several long moments, the Chief Constable just looked at me. The sound of the burbling river that had so often been the harbinger of my imminent death now calmed me. I could feel the mood of the crowd grow from excitement to confusion. Finally, the Chief constable leaned in close.
“Many people around these parts do not hold faith with the Pantheon,” he said, and my eyes snapped up to his. “Many of us have seen the misdeeds done in the name of false gods.
Some of us have even been on the butt-end of their spears. Some of us have fared even worse.” He looked at me and smiled. “I will get you to the hill. I just hope you really do have a way out of the hangman’s noose.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He shoved me rather hard, but I checked my anger, realizing that he had to keep up appearances. The last several hundred yards felt like an instant eternity as time sped up and dragged. Maybe I have gone crazy. But, eventually I stood on the gallows. The Mayor stepped forward and read the charges against me, but I didn't listen. Then the noose slipped over my head and around my neck. The crowd grew silent, and I felt the cloth of the hangman’s hood brush against my ear.
“Hey Pal,” the hooded hangman said low and for my ears only.
“Vonn?” I said in shock.
“Indeed. I knocked the hangman out and stole his hood. It was kind of a hoot.”
“Oh man, you became Enrico Pallazzo for me,” I sa
id, with utter joy. “You're the best.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“Yeah, few people do, but those who get it are giggling right now.”
“I’m here to free you.”
“No need, my friend. I got it covered. But stay close.”
I could almost feel Vonn’s grin. “You have the Agent’s port stone,” he said.
He was right, and at that very moment the magic pebble that was my salvation was in a death grip in my right hand. It had been there ever since the execution squad had come for me. Up to that point I'd hidden it in my beard. Yup, just like the poison and the bit of sausage roll from oh so long ago. How strange that my very life relied on a quirk of fate and an unruly beard.
Had I not sunk so low and eaten that crumb of forgotten yumminess, I might never have discovered what every bearded man took for granted; beards were treasure troves of hidden delights.
After killing the Agent, I’d scrambled for the port stone. Sure I wanted to burn the Warrant and steal all her swag. Until that disappointing moment, I had no idea that she was a Player. That had pissed me off. I had worked my ass off and felt I deserved her gear. But, under the circumstances I was happy with the port stone and the continued living it would buy me. Besides, her slinky armor would not have done my figure justice.
So, just before the constables came, I stashed the marble sized miracle in my beard, and every few minutes thereafter, I’d obsessively checked to see if it was still there. Everyone, including Chief Constable Nahrman just assumed I was a pretentious bearded hipster, over-proud that the genes I had no influence upon had given me decent facial hair.
Then it was a waiting game. The Chief Constable and I got to know each other and became better buds than I ever dreamed was possible. All the while I kept using Player Tracker. It kept giving me an ERROR message, which was the real reason behind my deepening depression.
But then, happy day, just around the time the Chief Constable realized I was an NPC, I felt Gryph. I knew where he was. All I needed to do was get beyond the negation field and port back to my good buddy. Then I’d punch him in the mouth for putting me through all this shit. We have a complicated relationship.