“Left!” shouted Keith the second they began to careen toward a stone. He stuck the oar in the water and paddled sideways.
“Left,” echoed Ash, also paddling.
Wooden rattling came from behind.
“Crap,” said Carlos. “The tiller’s broken. It ain’t doing anything.”
The boat skirted the rock with a few feet of clearance, then bounced up and over a ripple current streaming off another boulder. Tira shrieked as she sailed straight up into the air. The instant she crashed back down, she scrambled over and wrapped herself around Ashur’s leg.
“Left again!” yelled Keith. Seconds after they skimmed past that boulder, they slid sideways toward another. He shouted “Right! Right!”
“Make up your mind,” yelled Elliot.
“Different rock!” Keith lunged past Sarah and stabbed the oar into that boulder, struggling to hold the boat away from it so they didn’t crash. She grabbed the oar and helped push, guiding them around disaster.
Sarah grinned at him. “Nice move. Where’d you learn that?”
“Uhh, just felt like what I should do. I’ve never been on a boat before.” He blinked at a stone dagger jutting up from a whitecap less than twenty feet ahead. “Left hard!”
He and Ashur scrambled to steer around the deadly rock while Carlos pounded on the tiller, but it didn’t seem to be helping.
“Crap! The rudder’s not just broken, it’s gone,” yelled Carlos. “The flap that should be in the water’s missing. I’ve been trying to steer with a pole.”
“Is that bad?” asked Tira. “Are we gonna die?”
“All things die in time,” said Elliot.
“Stuff it, fortune cookie,” yelled Keith, paddling furiously, but doing little against the current.
“Oh, I could totally go for some lo mein right now,” said Ashur.
“I like the way he thinks.” Elliot pointed at him.
Carlos chanted another word, and a scintillating magical light swirled around the tiller. A sharp wooden crack shook the entire boat.
“Aaah!” Tira screamed. “We’re sinking!”
“Calm down. My spell fixed it.”
With barely four feet to spare, the boat made an easy turn to the left, avoiding the sharp rock. They bounced over several eddies and skirted another three sharp spires, a task made easier with a functioning tiller.
Keith stared at Carlos. “Nice. Wish you made your perception check like an hour ago.”
“Hey not my fault. I’m not rolling the dice anymore.” Carlos shrugged.
The rocky rapids turned out to be a small patch along the left bank, and soon they glided on calm waters once more. Midafternoon dragged into early evening.
“Look!” said Sarah. “That’s Bansford.”
She pointed at the lights of a harbor coming up, still over a mile away. Plenty of light and activity suggested panic at the Devouring hadn’t yet reached this far north. Who knew how long that would last? With any luck, they wouldn’t be stuck in the game world long enough to find out.
“Doesn’t look like they’ve abandoned it yet.” Keith paddled, trying to speed up. “Maybe we can find some real food.”
“Anyone have money?” asked Elliot.
“I got some,” said Tira. “198 silver pieces and 38 copper.”
“How the heck did you count it that fast?” asked Ashur.
She shrugged. “I remember what was on my character sheet, and we haven’t found or used any money since we woke up here. Keith probably still has the 250 silver a starting paladin gets.”
He checked his pouch, and sure enough, found a wad of dime-sized coins. “Yeah probably. But I never sheeted a paladin. I was using Sarah’s character as an NPC.”
“GMPC,” said Tira.
“What’s that?” asked Elliot. “All these acronyms. Oy.”
Sarah sighed. “A GMPC is basically an NPC, but it’s more like the GM wanting to have a player character than simply throwing a hireling into the party or another character to even out the class balance. None of my friends ever wanted to run the game, and I wanted to play sometimes, but I never got the chance to… so…”
“You always used Kyra. That’s why she had so many memories. Every game you ever ran, Kyra was part of it.”
“Yeah.”
Keith took her hand. “I’d be happy to run for you, my lady. You can be a player in my realm any time.”
She giggled.
“Guys,” said Tira. “We should probably try not to sound like weirdoes in this town. Villagers are stupid. They might think we’re crazy or possessed by like demons or something.”
“Yeah, okay.” Keith settled into his seat, watching the harbor draw nearer. All the fog made it look like an old British movie where people got stabbed in alleys. “Let’s be careful and stick together. This place could be dangerous.
Everyone nodded.
Keith stood, using the paddle to guide the boat to the nearest point of the Bansford Harbor. All five of the piers rose too high out of the water for a little craft like theirs. Two large, ocean-worthy ships with three masts occupied two of the berths. With a functioning rudder, gliding in to a low platform proved easy.
Stopping, not so much.
The impact with the dock launched Keith headfirst out of the rowboat. He landed flat on his chest on a wooden deck next to four barrels and a coil of rope. Grunts and oofs came from behind him. He pushed himself up and looked back. Elliot had disappeared. Tira’s legs stuck straight up. Carlos clung to the rudder, still where he belonged. Sarah draped over the front of the boat, her hands on the dock.
“Where’s Ash and El?” asked Keith.
“Down here,” said Elliot from the boat. He’d lurched forward and wound up flat on his face. “Great job, O captain.”
“What do I know?” asked Keith. “Where’s the brakes on a boat?”
Ashur moaned and sat up, also having tumbled off his seat.
“Well.” Keith picked himself up and glanced at a set of stone stairs leading up to the city street. “We’re here.”
Carlos stood. “For what it’s worth.”
Elliot threw the rope to Keith.
“It’s a step closer.” Sarah stepped onto the dock. “Come on. Let’s get inside before dark. The streets are dangerous at night.”
“But we’re kids,” said Elliot.
Sarah put her hands on her hips. “In this setting, people are considered adults at fifteen. Old enough to get married and work. A pickpocket might ignore Tira, but not the rest of us.”
“Or they’d go after me first thinking I’m a Wyrling.” She looked down at herself. “Little kids don’t dress up like this.”
“It’s kinda cute that the book gave you pint-sized thief’s clothes.” Ashur grinned.
“Die.” Tira rolled her eyes.
Elliot took a step toward the front of the boat, which pitched hard to the side. Tira shrieked as the heaving vessel flung her at the water. At the last possible second, she caught herself in a handstand on the boat’s edge, balanced for a second, then dropped back to her feet, safe and dry.
“Wow.” Keith clapped. “Nice Reaction save.”
“That had to be a natural twenty,” said Elliot. “Umm, sorry.”
Tira pointed at him. “Don’t move ’til I’m off.”
He grinned.
She tiptoed around him and climbed up onto the bow. Keith grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her clear before setting her on the dock. Once Elliot and Carlos left the boat, Keith tied it to a mooring post.
Sarah started up the stairs.
“Wait,” said Elliot. “Should a girl go first?”
She sighed. “This is a fantasy world, Elliot. No one thinks less of me for being a girl.”
“No, I mean… you know. We don’t want you to get hurt. Seeing as how you’re like the Private Ryan in Keith’s dreams. The only reason we’re all here is to save you.”
Keith blushed hard.
“What?” She stared at E
lliot. “Who’s Private Ryan?”
“I’ll explain over dinner.” Keith bounded up the stairs to where she stood. “Let’s go find some real food.”
27
The Dog and Crow
Keith walked at Sarah’s side, the two of them leading the way. Bansford’s streets looked like movies he’d seen of medieval times, complete with everything from fancily dressed merchants to downtrodden commoners and even grimy peasants. The cleanliness of the air struck him as odd. More to the point, nothing stank. Probably because neither the game designers nor the average GM bothered to bog down in the disgusting details of genuine medieval life, hence the way characters never went to the bathroom unless it mattered to the story—like being ambushed in the outhouse.
Heh. No wonder it doesn’t stink. No one here ever poops.
The obligatory swarm of barefoot five-to-seven-year old beggars in dirt-smeared tunics approached, eyes wide.
“They smell player characters,” whispered Elliot.
Keith’s hand plunged into his pouch before he could think. He gave them each three silvers, enough to feed them for a few weeks.
“Dude, they’re not real,” said Ashur.
“Paladin.” Tira pointed at Keith. “It’s a mental condition. He can’t help it.”
The beggar swarm ran off in search of other player characters, evading a pack of four town guards in shiny chain mail, who wandered past the group without paying them much mind. Tira looked up, confused.
“What?” asked Ashur.
“Why am I scared? I didn’t do anything.”
Keith grinned. “You’re a rogue. They’re cops. It’s a basic chemical reaction, like dogs and cats.”
She frowned. “I’m a good rogue.”
“Yeah, Miss Bottomless Bag,” said Ashur.
“It’s right here.” She patted it. “In the party. I’m not gonna sell it or run off with it. And it’s a bag. Not like I’m hoarding a powerful sword someone else could be using. Are you really jealous of my super pack mule powers?”
Sarah waved them onward. “We need to go inside. Finding that boat was really lucky. I didn’t do that last time. We wound up walking and it took three days to get here through the woods compared to a few hours.”
“Wow. How fast was that boat going?” asked Elliot.
“Not so much speed but a straight line. If we walked, we’d have had to curve around some weird mountains that don’t make any sense. Whoever drew the maps for this place has no idea how nature works.” She laughed.
Townspeople walked back and forth down the street, no one talking or paying any attention to them unless Keith looked in their general direction or moved close enough to overhear. They had the eeriness of being hollow, like computer game characters going about a programmed routine, but with enough humanity to be downright creepy.
Two streets and a left turn later, a wooden sign hung from the porch of a large, three-story building. A silhouette cutout resembled a wolf with a crow perched on its head. Bansford’s odd lack of smell gave way to a cloud of wonderful aromas. Roasting meat, baking bread, and a hint of wood smoke from a warm hearth filled the air.
Keith trudged up to the porch. A blond boy of about twelve with long hair, a plain brown tunic, and basic boots sat nearby on the steps. He surveyed them with a disinterested glance as they approached.
“Wow,” whispered Elliot. “That kid looks as bored as the NPCs from a computer game that have to stand around all day until the player talks to them.”
Ashur and Carlos chuckled.
Since the boy didn’t appear poor or attempt to beg, Keith passed with only a smile of greeting and walked inside.
Most of the space within held tables, both square and round. On the left, a man who resembled the boy outside tended the bar, and three women glided about carrying mugs of ale and trays of food. He counted nine others seated and in various stages of their meals. All appeared to be local townsfolk, not adventurers.
One of the women glided close on her way across the room. Her dark crimson bodice caused her white dress to bunch at her collarbones, a far more modest look than Keith expected for a bar wench. Then again, this was Sarah’s world after all.
“Welcome to the Dog and Crow. ’Ave a seat where ya care to,” said the woman before disappearing into the back room.
“This is so strange feeling like a player,” muttered Sarah.
“It’s strange being in the darn game,” said Ashur.
She selected a table near the back, a round one big enough for everyone, and took a seat.
“Dude, we can get ale,” said Ashur.
“Mom is going to kill you!” Tira gawked at him.
“It’s not real ale. It’s game ale.” He grinned.
“We’re really in the game though, butthead.” Tira punched him in the leg.
Ashur shook his head. “I’m not going to get drunk. I wanna see what it tastes like.”
Eventually, one of the women approached. “Welcome to the Dog and Crow. I’m Anna. What can I get you tonight? We have roast chicken, grilled fish, stew, venison steak, beef steak, or shepherd’s pie.”
“Chicken,” said Keith. “And a mead.”
“I’ll have the venison steak, and a mug of ale,” said Ashur.
Tira glared at him.
“My little sister will drink water.” He patted her on the head. “And the chicken.”
Tira punched him in the leg again.
“Beef steak for me.” Carlos smiled. “Water if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll have water as well,” said Sarah. “And the fish.”
Elliot grinned. “Venison steak, and an ale.”
“Right away all.” The woman curtsied and hurried off.
“Holy crap.” Elliot leaned close over the table. “We didn’t get carded.”
Ashur blinked in surprise. “She didn’t even question us.”
Sarah sighed. “I told you… kids our age aren’t considered children here. There’s no PlayStation or summer break. There isn’t even school. We’d be working or married already at this age.”
“I wanna go home,” whispered Tira. She didn’t sound frightened, more a statement of fact.
“Yeah,” said Keith. “I prefer my fantasy game to be a fantasy.”
Ashur nodded. “Are we stuck like Sarah was, or do we need to stay here a while before we fall out of time?”
“How should I know?” asked Keith.
Sarah sighed, fidgeting her hands in her lap. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been in here for thirty years. And obviously, I’m still fourteen. I think maybe I became ‘stuck’ when my friends escaped through the portal. They didn’t keep playing, so the world stopped existing. Like Keith said, when you read a book, the characters are always the same age. So, maybe as long as you’re all in here, the game is still happening… and time won’t run away unless someone gets left behind.”
“I’ll do it.” Keith took Sarah’s hand. “If someone’s gotta do it, I will. You guys get out.”
Sarah pulled him into a hug. “Don’t say that. We have a three-day lead. It’s not going to be like that this time.”
The woman returned and put a wooden plate down with sliced cheese and bread before handing out drinks. Keith took a sip of his mead and suppressed a cringe at how sweet it was, plus the pungent alcoholic fist to the nose. Ashur had less success holding back his reaction to ale. He barely managed to swallow it, but forced a smile.
“It’s good!” wheezed Ashur.
“You’re lying,” muttered Tira.
Elliot glugged his mead, two deep sips like an old pro, and smacked his lips. “Wow, that’s awesome.”
“It’s strong,” said Keith, his voice still part rasp.
“Mom lets me have wine at Christmas. One glass.” Elliot looked at his mug. “This is about four of those.”
Keith eyed the drink. “We probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing. We’ll get wrecked.”
Sarah looked away.
“What?�
� Keith glanced at her. “Oh. Right. I’ll skip it if it bothers you.”
She looked over, shrugging. “It’s all right. Don’t mind me.”
“No, I do mind you.” He smiled. “Your dad. I didn’t even think of that. I’ve made it thirteen years without drinking alcohol. I can go the rest of it not having it since it bothers you. Who needs beer?”
She shrugged, her cheeks tinted with blush.
Tira stared at him like she observed two kittens playing.
“More for me then,” said Elliot.
Ashur put his arm around Tira. “Don’t try pickpocketing, okay? We don’t need trouble.”
“No way.” Tira shook her head. “I’m too scared. Didn’t you hear what Sarah said? They won’t care I’m little. I’ll go to jail then I’ll never get home.”
Elliot belched, earning some applause from the other diners. He raised his arms, grinning, nodding at them, and burped again. “I shall sing them the song of my people.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think they want to hear hole notes,” muttered Ashur. “Mind the backblast. That’ll get you thrown in jail. Or it should.”
“Everyone’s a critic.” Elliot rolled his eyes and drank more mead.
The woman came by with their food. Keith couldn’t call it ‘good,’ but after two days of trail rations, it tasted like it came from the gods themselves. Sarah’s fish still had the head on it, which she hadn’t expected. Cringing, she sawed it off with a knife and pushed it to the side.
Tira had no problem diving into the chicken with her bare hands.
When the woman returned to check on them a while later, Keith asked for water.
“You gonna finish that?” Elliot gestured at his mead.
“Nah.” Keith pushed across the table, pulling back Elliot’s empty mug out of some inexplicable need to make the barmaid believe he’d finished the drink he’d ordered.
Minutes later, Elliot wobbled in his seat, eyes puffy, voice slurring. Ashur looked a bit bleary as well, though he’d only made it about halfway through his ale before giving up.
Soon, the bulk of their food sat in their bellies and Keith nibbled on a piece of cheese. Despite attacking the bread tray rather liberally, Elliot also finished his venison steak. Tira grew moody when Carlos teased that that he’d ‘eaten Bambi,’ and kept glaring at him.
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