by Rachel Ford
But Er’c said, “We should seek out a tavern or an inn. We may find who we’re looking for there.”
“So who is this guy, anyway?” Jack asked.
“His name is Aderyn. He is an adventurer who has explored many parts of the world.”
“And he knows where Iaxiabor’s fortress is?”
“If anyone does, Aderyn will.”
Which wasn’t the concrete assurance Jack wanted. But at least it gave him a name. “Alright. Let’s go looking for this Aderyn.”
The dirt trail on which they traveled seemed to be some kind of delivery road, as it ran behind homes and businesses. So they cut through an alley, which in turn led them to a dry, cobblestone road.
Jack was glad of that. It didn’t change the fact that he was still covered in mud, but at least he wasn’t actively wallowing in it anymore.
The city looked very different inside than it had outside. Outside, they’d caught a glimpse of everything behind the walls. Now, they could see only the buildings in their immediate vicinity: stone and wood reaching up against a gray and purple sky, covered with thatched and shingled rooves touched by the last golden rays of daylight.
Jack pulled up his local map. He’d either need to explore all of the city for himself, or purchase an annotated map from one of the local vendors to see the full city detail. But he could at least see the streets and buildings, even if the only labels he had discovered on his own so far were South Gate, East Gate and Eastern Delivery Track.
The fortress dominated the central portion of the map, and the rest of the city sprawled out around it. It needed no label. Streets divided Kaldstein like spokes on a wheel, moving outward from the fortress. Hundreds of tiny squares all crammed together dotted the southern end of the map. Houses, he decided. That would be the residential district for the city’s poor and working class. On the outskirts of the residential district, small buildings lined the streets. Shops, probably. The market district. On the northern side of the map, he saw large rectangles with wide spaces between them. The rich residential area, or government buildings. There were small buildings on the outskirts of the wealthier residential district too, which he concluded must be more shops – upscale ones.
But they were seeking an adventurer, not a rich guy. He’d probably be in a lodging house or inn somewhere. And if Kaldstein’s rich were anything like real life wealthy, those would not be in the rich part of town. “We need to get to the south end,” he decided. “Check the inns and taverns there.”
Their band started trudging southward, cutting through muddy little alleys, and over gravel roads. It was slow going. Kaldstein was a big place, and the further south they got, the worse the roads got. The sun finally set, and street lamps lit the night. Here, they were few and far between; and in the alleys, nonexistent. So Jack proceeded slowly, so he didn’t roll an ankle.
They started to pass groups of people – laborers, mostly, seemingly just getting out of work. They carried now empty lunch sacks, and laughed among themselves. They’d nod at the strangers, and go about their business.
The first few, Jack ignored. But then, an idea struck him. He waited until they spotted a group of some five men, all covered in dirt but laughing with the kind of relief that comes only after a hard day’s work ends. “Excuse me,” he said. “We’re looking for lodging and food. Can you point us in the right direction?”
“Strangers, then?” one of the men asked.
Jack nodded, and Migli said, “Indeed we are, good sir: strangers to your fair city.”
The other man stared dubiously at the dwarf. “Fair?” Then, to Jack, he said, “Balmy little feller, ain’t he? But if you’re seeking lodging, you’re on the right track. Just keep heading south. You’ll see a sign for the Golem’s Rest. You’ll get food and drink and rooms there.”
An alert flashed through Jack’s brain. You’ve learned of a new destination: Golem’s Rest. Map updated.
Jack thanked him, and pulled up his map. Now, a fourth label had joined the other three, hovering over a building half a dozen streets southwest of their current locale: Golem’s Rest. He set a marker for their destination, and an iridescent triangle appeared on the southern horizon, shimmering and pale. He could see the streets and buildings around him through it, but it hovered there like a phantom: not quite tangible but still present.
He pointed in the direction the marker indicated, and said cheerily, “This way.”
“Your sense of direction is remarkable, Sir Jack,” Er’c declared.
“What manner of man do you suppose we will find, when we reach Aderyn?” Migli asked.
“He is bold and – my father thinks – reckless,” the orc replied. “He seeks out adventure wherever he may.”
Jack nodded. He figured he’d like this Aderyn. They already had a lot in common. What was Jack, if not a bold adventurer? Granted, his adventures were of the digital sort; in real life, his biggest risks involved too much coffee and too little sleep, usually to finish a game, or a match in a game.
But Aderyn was entirely digital. So on balance, it seemed pretty much the same thing to Jack. And he remembered Jordan’s prediction, that soon he would acquire new companions. Maybe Aderyn would be one of those companions. He hoped so.
“A foolish guide is no guide at all,” Migli declared.
“I do not think him foolish. Overzealous, perhaps. But he has traveled to many places, Migli. He tells tales of lands beyond our reckoning.”
“Let us hope they are true tales, and not the figment of an active imagination.”
Jack laughed. “You sound worried, Migli. You afraid of being replaced?”
“Not at all, Sir Jack. I am one of a kind.”
I sure as hell hope so. Aloud, though, he said, “We’re close now. Just a few more blocks.”
And they were. The streets were gravel here, with wooden sidewalks all crusted in muddy prints. They creaked and bowed under them. The ghostly triangle marker hovered over a specific building ahead of them. Jack could see the roof rising above those around it. It was a two story structure, whereas most of the others were squat, single story residences.
Torches burned in iron holders on the outside of the inn. Which, Jack noted, was not only historically inaccurate – torches being a temporary fix, and not a long-term medieval lighting solution – but a fire hazard. He shook his head at it.
Still, the light allowed him to see something of the building front, even across the distance. It was, as he’d already noted, two stories tall – a classic, half-timbered style building, with dark wooden beams standing out against white plaster. A sign hung over the door, depicting a large, featureless humanoid shape, and the words Golem’s Rest painted in bright white.
People poured in and out of the doors – early diners heading home, and the afterwork crowd just arriving, he figured. “Let’s move. We don’t want to miss Aderyn if he’s here.”
The main dining area had already started to fill up when they arrived, but the group found a corner table. They’d barely taken their seats when a grizzled publican appeared out of nowhere – so suddenly, that Jack figured the game must have spawned the NPC on cue, just out of his peripheral vision. “Good evening, and welcome to Golem’s Rest. My name is Tegan, and I can bring you whatever you’d like to eat or drink.” He passed his gaze over the curious trio. “We also have rooms available for the night, for the discerning out of town visitor.”
Jack hadn’t eaten in hours, and he’d worked up an appetite. He figured he could probably find a hearth somewhere and cook something himself. But, then, he needed to be here anyway to keep a lookout for their quarry. So why not save his supplies? “What kind of food do you have?”
Here, the publican revealed a kind of hybrid menu and shop inventory. It sprang up in front of Jack’s face, and the rest of the game world seemed to pause. No one moved. The chatter at nearby tables diminished. But as soon as Jack glanced away, the world went back to normal, as loud and active as ever.
It w
as a little unnerving, and different from the displayed wares he’d seen in certain shops. He’d only seen this style menu before in other inns, so he guessed it had something to do with the ordering of food.
He scrolled through the food options, settling on fish and chips and a pint of ale. His companions put in their own orders, with Migli asking for a rack of ribs. “Flame seared on the outside and bleeding on the inside, my good man. And your best ale. Two of them.”
Er’c wanted roast venison with gravy and sides, and mince pie and a glass of milk. Migli ordered a third mug of ale, this one, “for the lad. We’ve got to make a man of him.”
The publican disappeared, albeit in the normal fashion – walking on his own two legs into a back kitchen. Jack surveyed the dining room. There were groups of five and six at the larger tables – tables like the one at which they now sat. One of them crammed twelve people in together. The smaller tables seated couples, and groups of three or four. The bar seemed to be where the singles had congregated – a fact Migli didn’t miss.
He wasn’t looking for Aderyn, either. The dwarf had scoped out a pretty elven woman with flame red hair and heavy armor so bulky she seemed to disappear into it; and he started to grin. “Now that’s a fair lass if ever I’ve seen one.”
“Who?” Er’c asked.
Migli pointed her out, and the orc nodded while Jack cringed. The dwarf had a penchant for chasing ladies. Something about this particular woman’s hunched shoulders and grim manner – to say nothing of the enormous broadsword that hung at her belt – told him Migli didn’t have a prayer. He started envisioning the scene that might ensue – Migli moving in and offering a lousy pickup line, the woman turning him down loudly and coldly, maybe with a brisk slap. Or maybe it wouldn’t be a slap. Maybe she’d resort to the broadsword. She was an elf, after all. Maybe an elf would find a come-on from a dwarf a proposition worth killing over. Jack’s first instinct, of course, was that that would be a terrible eventuality. But the more he thought on it, the more he started to see upsides. It would solve the Migli problem, with or without companions. Then, he felt a pricking of conscience, and shook the thought away.
Er’c, meanwhile, was saying, “She looks like a mighty warrior.”
“A fine, fierce maiden,” the dwarf agreed.
“Which is why you should leave her alone, before you get us all killed.”
Er’c shook his head. “I disagree, Sir Jack.”
Migli nodded. “Listen to the boy, my friend. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”
“He should leave her alone because her demeanor indicates that she does not wish to be approached, and not because she is either fine or fierce. Those attributes have no bearing on her right to peace.”
The dwarf frowned at him. “I take it back. He’s a daft child. I’m going in, Jack. Wish me luck.”
Jack shook his head, and called at his back, “If she kills you, I’m going to deny ever knowing you.”
Migli didn’t let that deter him, though. He strode boldly toward the woman at the bar, planted his legs in a wide stance and his hands on his hips, and said – something. They were too far away for Jack to hear over the din of the crowd. Still, he could see the general effect.
The elf woman glanced behind her, over Migli’s head, like she expected to be addressing a man. Then, when she found herself staring into empty space, she lowered her gaze about two and a half feet. The annoyance on her face changed to confusion. She said something. Migli responded, a big, stupid, confident grin on his face. She cringed.
Based on the self-assured grin on the dwarf’s face and the disgust on the elf’s, Jack figured the conversation had something to do with dimensions – she said something about his height, and Migli had responded with a reference to an entirely different set of measurements. As if confirming his suspicions, the elf woman touched the hilt of her sword. Migli wiped the smile off his face.
Now, he was all apologies and placating gestures. He bowed. He nodded. He bowed again, and then pointed toward their table.
Jack frowned. He’d been enjoying the spectacle so far. He couldn’t remember seeing Migli strike out quite this badly – not even with the werewolf woman who tried to kill them. But he hadn’t intended to be involved at all. Now the dwarf – damn him – was involving them.
The elf turned cool blue eyes on Jack, and he waved. He didn’t know why, exactly. He just – did. He felt like he couldn’t ignore her. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen her. So he waved.
She arched an eyebrow and turned back to Migli. The dwarf was still talking – the only thing he did well, and usually only in the quantity over quality sense. Still, the tension eased out of the elf woman’s brow, and she loosed her grip on the sword hilt.
Then, Migli turned around and headed back, and the warrior woman stood up and followed him – straight toward the table.
Chapter Three
She sat without being asked, right in Migli’s seat. Her bulky armor clanged and rattled as she plopped into the chair, but she didn’t pay it any heed – another one of those things that only worked in videogames. The dwarf stood in place, watching as if he was thinking about saying something, but hadn’t quite worked up the courage.
She extended a hand to Jack, and said, “My name’s Ceinwen.”
He took the proffered hand, and introduced himself. Then, he pointed to Er’c, who had gone very quiet. “And this is Er’c. He’s a mage.”
“Well met, Mage,” she said. Then, she turned back to Jack, and waved vaguely in Migli’s direction. “Now, the little one tells me you’re on some manner of quest that will save all of elf-kind?”
So that’s how he got himself out of trouble, is it? “Well, yes, I suppose. But not just elf-kind: all of dwarf-kind, and mankind, and orc-kind.”
“So, the whole world, then?”
“Pretty much, yes. Unless you’re a demon or a goblin.”
“What about trolls?”
Jack hesitated. “Uh…well, I suppose probably not them, either. They’re usually bad guys, right?”
“Good. I can’t stand trolls. They’re worse than goblins.”
“Indeed,” Migli said.
She glanced over at him, like she was only just remembering that he was still standing there. “And dwarves.”
Migli laughed nervously, and Jack laughed genuinely. He decided he liked Ceinwen. “Well, I can’t say that I’ve met any yet. But they must be foul creatures indeed to be worse than dwarves.”
She nodded grimly. “Think of the foulest thing you can imagine; trolls will be fouler yet.”
He didn’t know quite what to say to that. He figured it was some kind of foreshadowing of enemies yet to come. So he said only, “Oh.”
“But, enough of trolls and dwarves: tell me, this quest of yours…does it have anything to do with the rumors I’m hearing, of a great demon capturing heroes and taking them to a fortress in the far west?”
“Well, um, I’m not sure where he’s gathering them, exactly. But I can’t imagine there’s too many of them doing it.”
She nodded. “A thousand heroes: that’s what I heard. He’s trying to find a thousand heroes, for some dark purpose.”
Jack nodded too. “That’s the guy: Kalbidor.”
She nodded for a third time. “Tell me, Sir Knight: are you in need of a strong blade and a stout heart?”
Here, three dialog options presented themselves to Jack.
I am indeed, noble warrior.
Why, do you know anyone looking for work who fits that description? A friend, maybe?
And,
If I was, I wouldn’t look to an elf.
Jack chose the first one, and she smiled resolutely. “Then, on the house of my ancestors, I swear myself to your cause, Jack: until death or victory, I will fight beside you to slay Kalbidor and end his wickedness.”
Er’c found his voice long enough to celebrate the change in tidings, and then the publican returned with their trays of food and drink. Jack told her
she should order too, so that they could feast together in celebration of their common cause. So she did, and then she shifted her seat so that Migli could squeeze in behind her and find a seat in the corner.
They ate and drank and discussed the mission ahead of them. He asked Ceinwen if she’d ever heard of Aderyn. “The adventurer? Aye, I’ve run into him a few times. Always chasing down some rumor or tall tale. It’s from him I heard of the demon.”
“Do you know where he is?”
She shook her head. “No. Last I heard, he was heading out of town, to an old ruin east of here. Supposed to be haunted.”
“When was that?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And he hasn’t been back?”
“No. But if he’s the key to finding this demon, we should follow him. I know the place he was going. I could lead you.”
That was welcome news indeed, and Jack told her as much. Then, content that the main quest was progressing as needed, he concentrated on his food.
Er’c spoke very little throughout all this, and ate a lot. He drank down his milk, and then tried a sip of ale – and almost choked.
Migli laughed at him, and Ceinwen glanced over. Color spread through the young orc’s face, but she seemed to understand. “It’s a foul brew. If I had less to forget, I would drink it less myself.”
“Well,” the dwarf said, “if you’re not going to finish it, Er’c, I might as well. No sense letting good ale go to waste.”
He’d already gone through his own two mugs, and Jack shook his head at him. “Slow down, Migli, before you get yourself drunk.”
“Drunk is exactly how I mean to get, Sir Jack.”
Ceinwen shook her head, too, muttering, “Dwarves.”
Jack was about to agree when he heard his name – and not just spoken, either. No, this was shouted, in part like an exclamation and in part like a salutation. He glanced around the room, until his eyes settled on a tall, scrappy, light-haired archer. He looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to be certain under the thick layer of grime that coated him. Again, he shouted Jack’s name in the same sing-song way, like someone might say, “Hello, hello, hello!” Only this time, he was saying, “Jack, Jack, Jack!”