A Quest for Chumps (Departed Dimensions Book 1)

by G. M. Reinstra

  “Didn’t you just get those hotcakes a few seconds ago?” Rialta asked with a grin.

  “What’s your point?” Remmy asked, handing Rialta two more coins.

  Although her uneasiness lingered, Rialta couldn’t help but feel gratitude for the boys’ comradery. “Nothing, never mind,” she said. “Just… thank you. I truly appreciate that—that I am appreciated.” She bowed.

  “Holy crap, Rialta, you need to knock it off with the formalities,” John said. “And listen, I suspect that you’re a bit wound up, what with almost dying for the second day in a row. I think we could use a break, don’t you? I say we aimlessly traipse around this town and spend our money indiscriminately before we retire back to the Pampered Quail for some free food and drink. What do you think?”

  Rialta considered John’s proposition, and she decided it would probably be best to bring up Lorenza’s request later on.

  “All right, why—why the hell not?” Rialta said with a smile.

  “Whoa!” John said. “Hell? Why the hell not? Are you hearing this? We’ve corrupted her, Remmy,” John said as he began the walk back toward the inn.

  Remmy laughed and followed behind John, and even Rialta could not help but stifle a chuckle as she walked behind them. It felt good to have a moment of levity in the aftermath of the battle, even if it was to be short lived.

  Chapter 16

  A Grifter’s Wares

  “Ooh! Guys! Come here! John shouted halfway back to the Pampered Quail. “There’s a little shop over here I want to check out,” he said, and he pointed to a shaded alley.

  “What shop?” Rialta said, squinting into the alley, which seemed completely empty.

  “Come on!” John said, and he ran into the alley.

  Rialta looked at Remmy, who shrugged and walked off to follow John.

  I guess there’s no other way to find out what he’s going on about, Rialta thought. She followed the boys into the alley, where she saw the silhouettes of John and Remmy facing the building to her right. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she found that they were looking down at a man huddled up on a filthy cotton blanket that he had laid out in the middle of the alley. The man had a long, scraggly white beard and a shock of wispy, greasy hair, and he wore ill-fitting, threadbare clothes. He was sitting on top of the blanket with his back against the nearby building, and he held in his lap a beaten banjo with a broken string which he idly played—or attempted to play—as Rialta approached. The instrument was horribly out of tune, and it could not have been clearer that this vagrant had no idea how to play it. He was sitting on the ground amid a cluttered mess of weapons, armor, and all sorts of glittering trinkets.

  “Hey there, kids,” the man said, a rich, deep voice. “You lookin’ to purchase my wares?”

  “Depends on what you’ve got,” John replied.

  “Er, John, perhaps we ought to leave this man be,” Rialta said, tugging at John’s shoulders. “He looks…uh, tired.”

  “Nonsense, young lady,” the vendor said. “I’m feelin’ just as alert and spry as ever.” He swept his fingers across the banjo’s remaining strings, causing a cacophony of notes to screech out into the alley. “And to answer your question there, big feller, what I got here is nothin’ but the best enchanted artifacts you could ever hope to find here on Tyntala.”

  “What’s this?” Remmy said, picking up a green crystalline orb.

  “That there’s a green crystalline orb,” said the vendor. “It don’t do shit, it just looks nice. But it’s for sale if you want it.”

  “All right, so what do you have here that’s actually enchanted?” John said.

  “Hmmmmmm… really just that there spear and that there cloak,” the vendor said, pointing to first to a sleek silver spear and then to a jet-black mantle. Rialta’s gaze seemed to linger on the cloak as the haggard man pointed it out to her.

  Rialta arched an eyebrow at the vendor. “Where did you get all th—”

  “Found it,” the vendor said before Rialta could finish her question.

  “Where?” she persisted.

  “Places,” he replied.

  “I see,” Rialta said.

  “So what’s so special about the spear and the cloak?” Remmy asked.

  “Well, let’s start with the spear,” the vendor said. “That there’s the half-time-all-the-time spear.”

  “The what?” Rialta asked.

  “The half-time-all-the-time spear, girl. Ain’t you listening?”

  “What’s it do?” John said.

  The man sat upright and grabbed the spear from his blanket, then handed it to John.

  “You see that there fence at the end of the alley?” the vendor asked.

  “Sure,” John said.

  “Okay, so what I want you to do is this: think hard about striking that fence with the spear, but aim for this here support beam instead,” he said, indicating a wooden post in the building behind him.

  “Why?” said John.

  “Just try it!” the vendor shouted.

  John shrugged. He hefted the spear in his right hand and took a moment to close his eyes and concentrate. Rialta supposed he must have been focusing on striking the fence. Then, John opened his eyes and flung the spear toward the support beam, which it pinned with a resounding thunk.

  “That didn’t do anything,” John said, furrowing his brow.

  “Didn’t I tell you it was the half-time-all-the-time spear?” the vendor demanded. “Yank it out and try again, and make sure you really concentrate this time.”

  “If I had a piece of gold for every time I heard—”

  Rialta turned and slapped Remmy hard across the face.

  “Ah! Okay! Sorry!” Remmy said. “Damn it, Rialta, that hurt.”

  “Good,” Rialta said. “You would think you had been raised in the streets with a mouth like that.”

  “To be fair, he pretty much was. And don’t let him fool you, he’d be just as broke as ever,” John said as he effortlessly pulled the spear out from the beam. He returned to his starting position, took a moment to concentrate, then threw the spear at the wooden beam once more. This time, the spear stalled in mid-air for a fraction of a second before it took a bizarre twist, then rifled straight toward the fence at the end of the alley, and buried itself in one of the fence’s planks.

  “Whoa,” Rialta, Remmy, and John said at once.

  “You’re damn right ‘whoa,’” said the vendor. “You get it now? Fifty percent of the time, you’re guaranteed to strike your intended target, even if your aim was off. The other fifty percent of the time, the spear will just end up going toward whatever you happened to toss it at. So if you’re unlucky and the enchantment doesn’t kick in, you’d just better hope you still had decent aim.”

  “Why have you given the spear such a bizarre name?” Rialta asked.

  “It ain’t bizarre, girl! It defines exactly what the damned thing does!”

  “Uh, right,” Rialta said. “Well I must admit that it is an impressive enchantment, even if it is inconsistent.”

  “Is there any pattern to which half of the time it works? Does it alternate or something?” Remmy asked.

  “Nope. Totally random, fifty percent chance each throw,” the vendor said.

  “All right, I’m interested,” John said. “How much?”

  “Three beryth,” the man replied.

  John withdrew his purse and tossed three purple coins onto the blanket.

  “Much appreciated, young man,” the vendor said with a smile.

  “Pleasure’s mine,” John said, turning to fetch the spear from the far end of the alley.

  “Now what about the cloak?” Remmy asked the man.

  “That one’s a bit more straightforward, but I can’t demonstrate it to you. At least not at the moment. It causes anyone who physically attacks its wearer to become inflicted with a blood curse which slowly drains away his or her vitality until it is cured, or until the curse wears off. However, the cloak’s enchantment
is only effective after sunset. Given the fact that it is only effective at night, and that it inflicts a curse much like poison, I thought it would be most appropriate to call it… The Cloak of Nightshade.”

  “What!” John shouted, incensed. “Why’s that one get a proper name and mine is the… half-time, full-time… bullshit… spear?”

  “The half-time-all-the-time spear!” the vendor shouted, shaking his fist at John.

  “That cloak sounds like it could be useful,” Rialta said. “How much do you want for it?”

  “One beryth and four amyth,” said the vendor. Rialta looked in her purse to find she was carrying five purple coins and at least ten blue ones. She handed over her money and took up the cloak.

  “What does this do?” Remmy asked, picking up a sleek metal brooch shaped the like rising sun from the dirty blanket.

  “Nothing, so far as I know,” the vendor said. “But if you like it, it’s yours for two amyth.”

  “Sold!” Remmy said. He handed the vendor his money and pinned the broach to the lapel of his robes.

  “See anything else you like?” the vendor asked.

  “I think we’re all set here,” John replied. “Thank you for your wares, all the same. Maybe we’ll see you around sometime.”

  The vendor nodded his head before striking another discordant chord on his banjo. John, Remmy, and Rialta returned their own sheepish nods before hurrying out of the alley with their new goods.

  “Honestly, John, how do you have such a penchant for finding people like that?” Rialta asked as they emerged back into the light of the open street. “First that Jack person, and now this crooked merchant?”

  John shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry you found such a badass cloak for such a low price?”

  “No, I can’t say I am,” Rialta replied.

  “I think the Pampered Quail is just up here,” Remmy said, pointing to a fork in the road. Rialta recognized the area as the place where she had begun her search for food earlier that morning, though that little excursion seemed a lifetime ago. Sure enough, as they approached, the Pampered Quail’s sign came into view.

  “You two go ahead,” Rialta said, eyeing a small shop that appeared to sell books and writing supplies. “I’m going to have a look in that shop before I retire to my room for the afternoon.”

  “Suit yourself,” John said. “Will we see you for dinner? Sounds like our tab is on the house. I’d hate for you to miss out on free food.”

  “Yes, of course,” Rialta said. “I’ll see you both tonight.”

  With that, John and Remmy bid Rialta farewell, and they went their separate ways.

  Chapter 17

  Reconciliation

  Rialta spent some time perusing the bookstore before buying a few novels and a book that appeared to be a historical account of the colonization of Tyntala. She smiled as she studied the covers of the books on her walk back to the Pampered Quail. Even if the novels were poorly written, it would surely be a treat to read a creative work born from a different dimension. Furthermore, the historical book would no doubt better help her understand this strange new world and its geopolitical climate.

  Rialta returned to the Pampered Quail and immediately paid for a fresh set of robes and an additional two nights’ stay in room 107. Upon returning to her room, she tossed her books and the Cloak of Nightshade onto her bed, washed and changed into her new robes, then proceeded to settle onto her bed. She picked up a novel titled The Epic of Geraling, which turned out to be a story about the adventures of a young ranger. It wasn’t the best book Rialta had ever read, but the plot kept her attention until the light outside her window began to wane and a familiar savory smell began to waft up from below her room.

  Rialta dogeared her place in her book and set it back on top of her bed before going downstairs.

  She was surprised to find that Remmy and John were not seated in the dining room but standing in the bar area and engaged in lively conversation with some locals. John was clutching a large stein in his hand, but Remmy held a glass full of what looked like a perfectly crimson wine. Before Rialta had a chance to inquire about what was going on, Remmy leapt up on the bar and held his glass up high.

  “All right now, all right! Sh-shut up! Shut up everyone and listen to me!”

  There was some laughing and whooping as Remmy staggered around the top of the bar.

  “Now I might just be a simple cleric, but I think I know a good time when I see one!” Remmy said. He raised his glass up to the crowd gathered around the bar, and everyone in the bar cheered in response. Rialta shook her head, but she smiled all the same as all the patrons in the Pampered Quail raised their glasses.

  “Oh my. How much has he had to drink?” she asked John as she approached the bar.

  “Just a few sips of that wine,” John said with a smirk.

  “Thank you, everyone, thank you!” Remmy said with a very deep bow. “Now here’s the thing, I don’t—I don’t want to be too direct here, but from what I gathered from my… my uh, investigation, around this Tyntala place…” he said, twirling his wrist around as he searched for his words. “You all folks, you aren’t exactly fans of the king, are ya?” he asked, flourishing his wine glass and spilling its contents across the bar.

  “Hear hear!” the patrons shouted.

  “That’s what I thought!” Remmy shouted back, and he pumped his fist in the air. “Now, I’m lucky enough to be from Ro, just like my friends here,” he said, pointing to Rialta and John. “And as you may or may not know, we kicked the king’s ass a few hundred years ago!”

  The patrons roared with applause and stomped their feet in response.

  “So I’d like to sing a song of our glorious revolution! A song my great, great grandfather once sang! A song of victory and glory!” Remmy shouted.

  “Sing it!” someone shouted from the gathering audience.

  “All right, you—you sonuvabitch, I’ll sing it, but only because you asked!” Remmy replied. Here we go!” Remmy shouted, and he began to sing:

  Oh, the battle of Bearin was bloody indeed

  It required the force of near every last steed

  To defend our planet, our home, and our lands

  From the terrible forces of King Lazaram

  The fool, he discounted the power it took

  To warp to our new land or bless a great book

  So all of his armies were few, none could last

  In the face of the might of our fighters so vast

  And thus Ro is the legend of glory and gold

  The equal of which shall not soon be retold.

  As the locals cheered for his song, Remmy collapsed and fell from the bar. Rialta gasped, but John was prepared. He took one long stride and caught Remmy before he fell more than a few feet. Remmy settled into John’s arms and immediately began to snore. A number of the patrons around the bar laughed raucously as they watched.

  “I’d better go bring him back to our room and put him in bed. But I’ll be right back down for dinner,” John said with a smirk. “Poor guy is going to wake up starving in the middle of the night. He hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

  With that, John retreated up the stairs and out of sight. Now that the excitement of Remmy’s performance was dying down, Rialta took the opportunity to search the crowd for Lorenza or Nivin, but she could not find either of them.

  “Is your friend going to be okay?”

  Rialta turned around to find Amy emerging from behind a large shelf of glimmering bottles in the bar area. She was wearing a sparkling seafoam-green dress.

  “I think he’ll be just fine,” Rialta said. “But what in the world was in that wine?”

  “It’s just a simple cranberry wine!” Amy said defensively. “They’re in season this time of year, of course. It’s nothing strong, mind you. My niece drinks at least half a glass at our Saturnalia dinner every year without issue, and she’s got the constitution of a baby sheep!”

  “Perhaps you are ove
restimating Remmy’s constitution, then,” Rialta said.

  Amy laughed. “Listen, Rialta, I meant what I said earlier. It was downright brave of you and your friends to take on those scoundrels like that. I’m in your debt. Truly I am. What’ll it be?” she asked, gesturing to the bar behind her.

  “Just another one of those beers I had last night,” Rialta said. “I don’t want to end up like Remmy. And I’d like to have some dinner before I pass out.”

  “Right you are,” Amy said with a wink. “Have a seat at any table you like. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Rialta turned to the dining area and decided to sit at the same booth as the night before. No sooner had she taken her seat than John returned from the staircase leading up to the rooms. He took a moment to look between the bar and the dining room before he found Rialta. He made his way toward her.

  “Remmy’s out cold,” he said, dropping heavily into the booth opposite her.

  “I figured as much,” Rialta said. “No more wine for Remmy, I suppose. But John, would you mind joining me on this side of the booth before Amy comes to take our dinner order?”

  John cocked an eyebrow at Rialta and seemed to look her over. “That seems… weird,” he said. “No offense or anything, I just think I’d be more comfortable over here.”

  “Well, I think you might be more inclined to join me on this side when you see who I’ve invited to dine with us,” Rialta said, pointing to the door of the Pampered Quail. She watched John turn in his seat to find Lorenza and Nivin walking through the door. Lorenza caught Rialta’s eye and gave her a little wave.

  “Oh no, Rialta, come on…” John moaned as he watched Lorenza and Nivin approaching their table. “I was hoping he would have the decency not to come here tonight.”

  “If anyone has a grudge to bear against Nivin, it’s me,” Rialta said firmly. “And I agreed to meet them here for a reason. Just try to keep an open mind, okay?” She patted the empty space on the booth bench beside her. John heaved a heavy sigh, but he finally stood and moved to sit beside Rialta.

  “I ought to kill you for setting me up like this,” John muttered.