“Let’s rent rooms,” said Sarah.
“You two getting a room together?” Ashur flashed a silly, tipsy smile.
Keith couldn’t think of anything he wanted more, even if nothing happened between them other than rest. “Uhh, up to her.”
“We should at least stay in pairs.” Sarah nibbled on her lip. “I can think of worse people to share a room with, but we’ll be sleeping in it.”
“Yeah.” Keith nodded. “Of course. I’ll go pay and get the room keys.”
He stood and headed to the bar. The others followed, except Tira who remained at the table, still fuming over the Bambi remark, and Elliot who got into an argument with gravity and lost. Two full steins of mead left him flat on his back when he tried to get up.
Keith waved at the tall, blond man behind the bar, trying to get his attention. From where he stood, he had a clear view out the front door as a well-dressed figure on a horse stopped outside. The boy who’d been on the porch approached the man, accepted a few coins, and led the horse around to the side of the building while the traveler entered and took a seat near the door on the left.
“Oy, good day, mate,” said the bartender, approaching Keith. “What ya need?”
“Settle up on our dinner and we’d like three rooms for the night, please.” Keith fished at the silvers in his pouch.
The man noted the table they came from, and nodded. “All right then, sixteen bits for the grub and drink, another six for the rooms.”
Keith blanked out for a second. Uhh, a bit’s a copper. Ten coppers to a silver. Twenty-two is two silvers and two coppers. He nodded and handed the man three silvers.
“Thank ye kindly. One moment and I’ll fetch yer keys.” The bartender pocketed the coins and swiveled around to a pegboard behind him.
The front doors swung open with a clatter. Seven town guards stomped in, eyeing the room. Six wore silvery chain mail while a taller man with a goatee had heavier black banded-mail armor with a white cloth tabard over it bearing the city crest. Keith didn’t pay them much attention.
“There they are.” The man in the black armor stormed over, gesturing at them. His eyes narrowed. “You lot are under arrest by the order of the magistrate.”
“What?” blurted Ashur. “We didn’t do anything.”
Keith opened his mouth to protest, but froze at the sight of the guard captain’s eyes—they glowed with faint red light.
“Not good,” whispered Sarah. “Seven grown men against the six of us… in a crowded room. Innocent people could get hurt.”
“Yeah, like us,” muttered Ashur.
“Beg your pardon, good sir,” said Keith. “I believe there has been some mistake. We only arrived in this town an hour ago, came straight here, and had our dinner.”
“Take them.” The captain waved his men forward.
Ashur started to draw his blades, but Keith put a hand on his arm.
“No… town this size, they’re at least level six or seven, plus grown men, plus if we fight them, we really will be guilty of something.”
Sarah looked ready to pull her weapon, too. She backed away from the advancing guards. “Your captain’s been charmed. Look at him! His eyes are glowing red! It’s the Dark Wizard’s influence.”
The guards paused and glanced back, but at that moment, the man’s eyes had ceased emitting light.
“Come quietly, and if it is a mistake, the magistrate will sort things out on the morrow,” said one of the guards.
Two of them hauled Elliot to his feet and dragged him over. Keith clenched his fists in anger, but wound up staring at the empty chair where Tira had been. He looked around, but couldn’t find her anywhere. Best of all, the guards didn’t appear to be looking for her.
“All right.” Keith raised his hands. “We’ll come quietly, but you should know that both Docar the pure and I”—he gestured at Elliot—“are servants of Hæm. If you steal from us, or my companions, you are stealing from him.”
28
Detention
Keith scowled at his bare feet. The guards had taken their weapons, pouches, armor, and even boots. Ashur had protested the boots, but the guard said it was faster than searching for hidden lock picks or weapons. Keith hated sitting in a dungeon cell. Three plain stone walls surrounded him, one at his back and one at either side. Straight ahead, a barred wall separated them from a narrow corridor. The cell opposite them contained only air.
He hated the manacles around his ankles even more. They had a reasonably long chain, but the steel pinched. Though, if he hated the cell and the leg irons, he hated the chains on his wrists the most. The guards had fixed them all to iron rings in the walls that kept his arms elevated above his head if he sat on the floor. To even rub his nose, he had to stand up. This sort of prison worked okay for game characters who never went to the bathroom, but for them, it would soon become quite disgusting.
Maybe that explained the small tin basins near each wall. Chamber pots.
At least they had chained Sarah to the same ring as him, so the two of them sat shoulder to shoulder. Her head bowed, hiding her face behind a cascade of thick, chestnut hair. She kept silent and still, so he couldn’t tell if she verged on crying or had reached a point of being angry enough to attempt fighting town guards. He stared at the flaking pearl-pink nail polish on her toes, daydreaming about her sitting at home in her bedroom, happy (well as happy as she could be with such a jerkwad for a father), and painting them while listening to one of those bands on her posters.
A centipede broke his wonderful thought as it crawled over her bare thigh, an inch below the hem of her green cloth skirt. Her leather skirt had been longer, almost to the knee, but being attached to her armor, it had been confiscated. Sarah either didn’t notice or ignored the bug, not that she could reach it if she cared.
Elliot, sitting with his back to the left wall of the cell, had passed out. He also hung by his arms from a similar ring, looking a bit like a Santa Claus ornament who’d had far too much booze. Ashur shared his ring, but Elliot’s great size pushed him into an awkward lean. Carlos had the right side of the cell all to himself and appeared deep in thought.
“Great plan, Keith. Go quietly. My sister is out there all alone right now.” Ashur grunted and tried to squeeze his wrists out of the manacles. When that didn’t work, he stood and tried to snap the chain, with no more success. Out of breath, he slumped back down, looking as ready to scream in anger as burst into tears. “We gotta get out of here before something happens to Tira. What are you gonna do?”
“Paladins are good at speech checks, right? When we see the magistrate, I’ll smooth it over.” He lowered his voice and leaned his head closer to Sarah. “Are you okay?”
“I’m cold.” She shifted her weight, trying to lean against him. “You did the right thing. If it went to combat, we’d still be in here, but beaten bloody if not dead.”
“Sorry about your sword. I know it’s magic.” Keith sighed. “They’re gonna sell it.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Ashur.
Keith shrugged. “Guards in medium-sized towns like this are always corrupt. They don’t earn a lot. These guys love their jobs because they can treat people however they want, and if they find something like that, they always sell it and claim it was ‘misplaced.’ It’s how GMs get rid of overpowered magic items when their players do stupid things.”
“But we didn’t do anything stupid,” muttered Elliot.
“Welcome back to the living,” said Carlos. “How was that mead?”
“Good.” Elliot lifted his head.
Carlos narrowed his eyes. “I swear, if you fart right now when we can’t get away from it, I’m going to light you on fire.”
Elliot looked around, appraising his current state of being chained to the wall in a dark dungeon cell. “Wow, this is worse than detention with Mrs. Simmons.”
“Hah.” Carlos chuckled. “That old crone would chain kids to the wall if the school would let her.”
/> Keith swung his legs up and grabbed the manacle around his right ankle, fidgeting at it. The handmade thing rattled, clearly not of excellent craftsmanship, but it refused to open no matter how hard he pulled or twisted.
“What did we do?” asked Elliot. “Did they get us for underage drinking?”
“No, butthead,” said Carlos. “The guy in black had glowing eyes.”
“It’s gotta be Yzil.” Sarah lifted her head, though her hair kept covering her face. She struggled at her manacles for a second before brushing at her face with her arms. “The Dark Wizard influenced him. We left him way behind because of the boat, so he’s trying to slow us down. I don’t think we’re going to be seeing a magistrate tomorrow.” She shivered. “Maybe Yzil won’t even come for us. He might just keep us here forever.”
The sight of Sarah shackled, frightened, and shivering lit a rage inside Keith the likes of which he’d never experienced before. He grabbed the chains going up from his wrists in both hands, and yanked as hard as he could. Over and over, he slammed his restraints against the metal ring, refusing to give up or be contained. It took a moment for Sarah’s pleas to pierce his anger, her voice becoming more than a vague sound nearby.
“Stop, stop,” whisper-shouted Sarah. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Keith scowled at the iron locked around his wrists. Yeah. Great plan. Surrender. What kind of idiot am I? He blushed again—nothing new for being around her—but at the moment, he felt ashamed of himself. If not for being shackled to the wall, he’d have gone off somewhere to sulk alone. Every time she moved and chains rattled, he felt like a complete failure.
“I don’t think so,” said Carlos. “That thing was coming after us. You said it chased your friends before, right?”
Sarah gasped. “We’ve got to get out of here before he reaches the town!” She hauled herself up to her feet by her manacles. Standing, the restraints kept her hands at chest level. After studying the roughly twelve-inch length of chain between her wrists, she pulled it back and forth through the ring like a band saw.
Keith stopped staring down in shame. He couldn’t bear the sight of her in leg irons. Bad enough she’d spent thirty years trapped in some freak of magic, he had to swoop in and make it worse. Now, she would die.
The chattering metal became annoying fast, but Keith gritted his teeth. Desperation tinged her grunts and gasps as she worked harder and harder. After a few minutes, it became clear she’d die of old age before sawing the iron ring open. She stopped, out of breath, and gave Keith such a sad, pleading stare, his heart couldn’t take it.
He looped one arm over her head so he could hug her. She leaned into him, shaking.
“I hate this. I hate feeling so helpless.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “We can’t just sit here waiting for him.”
“No crap. We have to get out, but I don’t have a maxed-out strength anymore.” Ashur yanked hard on his manacles, clanking them. “Nasir could’ve snapped this easy. Dammit! If something happens to Tira while we’re stuck in here…”
“Relax man. She’s probably still hiding at the inn, waiting for us to come back,” said Elliot.
Keith rocked Sarah side to side. He couldn’t admit defeat. If he lost hope, so would his friends. “Hey. We haven’t lost yet. Characters get caught by the bad guys all the time, but still win, right?”
She chuckled. “You’d be a lot more reassuring if we weren’t in chains.” She wagged one foot in the air, making the links between her ankles dance around. “Whatever we do, it’s going to take thinking. We’re not running anywhere like this.” She sighed and clung. “At least you’re warm. My toes are numb.”
“I’ve never been this angry before in my life. Seeing you like this makes me want to kill someone.” He kissed her cheek. “Even if it’s a real guy.”
“Wow, you do have it bad for her,” said Ashur.
“Not now, Ash.” Keith closed his eyes and tried to let his anger go before he lashed out at his friend.
“I’m scared,” whispered Sarah.
“Me too,” said Keith.
A door opened with a long, horror movie creak out in the hall. Footsteps, and the rattle of a tin pot, grew louder.
Sarah wriggled and whispered, “Let go. If they see us holding each other, they’ll put us apart just to be cruel.”
He heaved his arm up and over her head, and they sat again. Seconds later, a bored-looking guy in a grey tunic with a large potbelly walked up to the door in their cell. He picked his way through a large key ring for a few minutes before finding the right one. A section of bars a little smaller than the average house door swung inward with an ear-piercing squeak. The man entered the cell and walked around, ladling horrible-smelling stew into little wooden bowls and handing one to each of them in turn. Without a word, the man waddled out of the cell, slammed the door, and disappeared off down the hall.
“We just ate,” said Carlos. “This smells like Elliot’s foot.”
“Better than his butt,” said Ashur.
Keith stared up at the bowl. They’d all have to stand to eat. “Don’t drop it or you won’t get it back.”
“So, we just hold it until we can choke it down?” Ashur groaned. “I’m still full from that tavern, and this stuff stinks.”
Sarah coughed at the smell. “If we drop it, they might punish us by not feeding us for a while.”
“If you were running a game, would you do that to your players?” asked Carlos.
“Of course not.” Sarah huffed at her hair, trying to blow it off her face. “But, I’m not running this. Neither is Keith, and my players never wound up in jail.”
“Anyone else think it’s odd that these guys carted off a bunch of kids and no one questioned that?” asked Ashur.
“Dude, you didn’t listen to Sarah. She already explained it.” Keith shook his head.
“In medieval times, they’d throw kids as little as seven in prison for stealing food.” Sarah frowned. “But that was real life. If this is my fantasy world, the guards wouldn’t do that, but I’m not in control anymore.”
Hours of uncomfortable silence passed, broken only by the clink of chain when someone fidgeted or tried to stretch. Eventually, Elliot wobbled to his feet and nibbled at the cold stew. Tired of holding the bowl over his head for so long, or perhaps because didn’t feel full to bursting anymore, Keith no longer found the smell completely awful. He struggled to stand, only spilling a little of the unappetizing meal on Sarah’s shoulder. The brown, gooey mess looked worse than what happened that time he tried to surprise his parents by cooking dinner. Still, he ate, scooping the horrid stuff into his mouth with his bare hand. Sarah begrudgingly did the same, though she hauled herself upright much more gracefully and didn’t spill any.
The cell filled with the sounds of slurping and rattling metal.
Eventually, everyone finished eating and tossed their empty bowls aside. Keith leaned against Sarah, tapping his foot on air, thinking. She continued shivering, and her teeth had begun to chatter. Keith growled to himself. He could hold her if he stood, but he couldn’t stay on his feet all night. Sitting on the floor kept his arms suspended over his head. Seeing Sarah so miserable, and being totally unable to do anything about it pushed him to the verge of madness. He daydreamed about killing all the town guards who’d dragged them down here.
That’s evil. I’m supposed to be a paladin. But, this isn’t a game. This is real. Carlos is doing magic, which shouldn’t work in real life. Keith closed his eyes. Oh, what the heck. Great Hæm, please aid your servant in his time of need. May Sarah be spared whatever fate this place brings us.
“This sucks,” muttered Elliot, squirming. “I really gotta scratch.”
“TMI.” Carlos feigned cringing away.
“Just wait ’til you gotta use the chamber pot.” Elliot tugged at the chains holding his arms up. “We gotta stand up, drop trou, then try to hover over that little thing when everyone’s watching.”
Sarah shuddered.
“Dude, stop it,” snapped Keith. “You’re not helping.”
“What?” Elliot stared. “I’m just saying the truth.”
Ashur rammed himself into Elliot twice. “Give me some room. You’re pushing me so much my butt can’t reach the ground.”
“Sorry.” Elliot scooted a bit to his left. “That better?”
“A little.” Ashur glared at the big metal ring. “If we weren’t tied to the wall, we could fit through the bars. Maybe… except for El.”
Elliot flipped him the bird.
“Hey Keith?” asked Carlos.
“Yo?” Keith looked up.
“What skill do we check for ‘jailbreak’?” Carlos grinned.
Subdued laughter went around the cell for a few seconds before the heavy, somber silence returned. Sarah pulled her knees up to her chest with a soft scrape of chain.
“Hey, you’re better than we were. You never got captured until I showed up.” Keith huddled closer to her.
She sniffled. “Yeah. Thanks. But I also don’t think I’m going to get out of this realm no matter what I do. Yzil catching us might be better than running forever.”
“Hey. Don’t think like that.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I hate this. I hate being the girl who has to be saved. My grandmother always had to save me from Dad. Now I’m tied up in a dungeon like every stupid girl in every stupid movie.”
“In case you didn’t notice, we’re all here.” Carlos sighed.
“Yeah.” Keith twisted at his hands, cringing when the steel pinched. “There’s a way to escape. We just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Sarah lifted her head from her knees and let off a weak chuckle. “Roll perception.”
29
Little Ghost
Carlos attempted tossing a fire bolt at the ring holding Elliot and Ashur, but aside from nearly lighting their hair, it didn’t do much. Everyone cycled among sitting there moping, standing and struggling at their shackles, or moving around as much as they could and examining the wall for any secret levers or switches.
The Cursed Codex Page 22