The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “Oh. Oops?”

  Rags shrugged at Erin and then winced. She clutched at her stomach, where the adventurer had stomped on her. Erin immediately forgot about the money. She bent down, staring anxiously at the Goblin.

  “Are you okay? I have some healing potions I could split—”

  Rags shook her head. Clutching at her ribs, she pulled something out of her pouch. A healing potion. The Goblin pulled the stopper out and drank a mouthful of the purple, brackish liquid.

  Erin was sure the Goblin didn’t own any healing potions. She was also sure that it wasn’t her healing potion, or Gazi’s. She looked at the other Goblins and saw they were doing the same with a few healing potions as well. She knew exactly where they’d come from.

  The adventurers had come here with belt pouches, and carry bags along with their armor and weapons. And while they’d left with their armor, it seemed someone had cut away their belts and bags of healing potions while they’d been downed. The Goblins were already fighting over the spoils.

  Erin had a feeling that she was going to get the blame for most—all of that. But right now, looking at the injured people in her inn, she didn’t really care.

  “Here.”

  She righted a table, and made Pawn and the injured Workers sit down. Erin found some bandages in her packs, helped pull the axe out of the skeleton’s rib cage, and let Pisces get to work on the skeleton. She was so busy attending her friends—saying thank you and feeding them a second dinner—that she never noticed that Gazi had left the inn.

  —-

  Gazi the Omniscient traveled back to Liscor, the ground blurring beneath her feet. She had no further business at The Wandering Inn at the moment. Erin Solstice was too busy attending to her wounded patrons for conversation and Gazi had seen all she needed.

  More importantly, she had found one. At last, she had found one. And not just one.

  “Two.”

  She smiled to herself. She’d searched far and wide for individuals worthy of waking up her lord and liege. For years. And she had despaired. But now she had found one. Not just one; two.

  “A mysterious child with a unique skill and a mage who can create new undead.”

  Erin Solstice. She was unlike any human Gazi had met before, save one. She had met only one other being who could unify so many races outside of her own. And that she had stepped in to protect them against her own kind only made her rarer in Gazi’s opinion.

  But there was more to her than even that. Erin’s origins, her ways of thinking, and yes, even the [Immortal Moment] skill Gazi had never seen on an individual before were all unique. She was worthy. The mage was also worthy, but in a different way. He was simply a genius.

  “But she is different.”

  Gazi frowned, letting her single eyelid droop over her central eye. Yes, Erin Solstice was different. She passed through the city gates, nodding at the guard who stared at her and slowed to walk idly through the streets.

  Erin Solstice. She was the one, and if Gazi had to choose it would be her. But it was better not to choose. Better to wait and lay plans. Gazi could act now of course, but if she wanted to do this properly it would take time.

  Time and patience were both things Gazi did not have, but she did not want to ruin things now, right when she had found not one, but two worthy beings. She yearned to begin, but patience—patience was a virtue she had learned to practice.

  Yes, perhaps it was better to wait. She had come far over the course of thousands of miles and countless years. Her King still slept; he would wait a while longer to be woken. Those she brought must be truly worthy of his attention.

  As Gazi walked through the streets, she noticed she was being followed. She kept her main eye straight ahead, but her lesser eyes could detect movement around her. Gnolls. Two shadowed her at a distance, pretending to be late-night shoppers and pedestrians going home.

  No doubt they were courtesy of a certain Gnoll shopkeeper. She had doubtless organized them to tail Gazi, unaware perhaps of the Gazer’s ability to see all. Or perhaps she knew and was letting Gazi know she was being watched. Either way, it mattered little. The Gnolls were the least experienced of Gazi’s watchers, but they were hardly the only ones keeping an eye on her.

  But it was their presence which decided Gazi. There was more to Erin than even her eyes could uncover. She would wait. Wait, and learn more about this strange human. Perhaps there was another worthy one. Three was better than two.

  As Gazi passed by the market street she noticed a flicker of movement. A small human grabbed several items from a stall while the shopkeeper was looking the other way. Gazi pretended not to see, but one of her lesser eyes tracked the human female as she darted away.

  The thief ducked out of sight in the alleyway, but Gazi’s eye wasn’t weak enough to be stopped by mere objects like walls at close range. Her large eye moved, and she saw not only the thief’s figure, but her name and nature. Such was the power of Gazi’s eye.

  But in this case, Gazi was disappointed. She shook her head.

  “Ah. Just a [Princess].”

  She turned her eye away. She had no time for human royalty. Petty lords and princesses of small nations could not arouse her ruler’s interest.

  Gazi cast her eye upwards. She saw the changing winds and miles overhead, saw the cold front sweeping in at speeds even her eye had trouble tracking. Yes, winter was coming. And quickly too. This land had few seasons save for the rainy one, but the fell chill would still freeze the land for a week at least. Time then, to wait and observe both humans.

  “Yes, time.”

  The adventurers had been a stroke of good luck. Their foolishness had given Gazi plenty of insight into Erin’s nature. She would ensure no reprisals came—at least in the form of a mob—but she would continue watching Erin Solstice.

  She wanted to know everything about her.

  —-

  Erin sat in her inn, staring at the recently cleaned room. Half of the tables and chairs were now fireplace fuel, but at least the spilled food and broken dishes had been cleaned up. She’d buy new ones from Krshia tomorrow.

  Everyone was gone. They’d limped off, or walked back to the city, or in Pisces’s case, done his disappearing act. They were gone, and Erin was left alone.

  With the skeleton of course.

  It was fully repaired and sweeping up dust. Erin stared at it as it worked. It paused as it glanced up and saw her staring.

  “Yeah. You don’t like it either, huh?”

  After a moment the skeleton got back to work. It stood up, dustpan in hand and walked outside to dump the dust. Then it came back in and stood to attention, staring at Erin.

  She sighed. The skeleton looked at her expectantly.

  “Skeletons. You know, I hated biology class in school. The skeleton there creeped me out, and it didn’t move around all the time.”

  No response. Well, Erin was getting used to that.

  “I don’t like dead things. And I don’t really trust you.”

  The light in the skeleton’s eyes dimmed for a second. Erin sighed again.

  “But. I guess you’re alright.”

  The flickering sparks in the skeleton’s eyes ignited. Erin nodded to herself.

  “I’ll keep you after all. You’re useful, and you can fight. Sorta. Just don’t do anything stupid, got it?”

  After a beat the skeleton nodded obediently.

  “Cool. Now I guess—I guess you’ll need a name?”

  No response. But the skeleton seemed expectant. Erin scratched her head. She really needed to sleep, but this was important.

  “What would be a good name for skeleton. Papyrus…? Nah. You’re not nearly cool enough for that.”

  The skeleton didn’t react. Erin tilted her head, thinking hard. She snapped her fingers.

  “I guess I’ll just call you Clatter. No—Claptrap! But even you’re not half as annoying as that…thing.”

  Erin scratched at her head as she began pacing around the room
. The skeleton’s fiery blue eyes followed her around the room as she began throwing names out at random.

  “Mr. Bones? Way too generic. How about Carnage? But that sounds horrible. Silent Steve…? No. Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen? Too long. ”

  After a while the skeleton turned around and walked upstairs. It began cleaning a decade’s worth of accumulated filth from the ceiling as it heard Erin still talking to herself down below.

  “How about Napoleon? But you’re not short. Skeletron? But I’d get confused. Paul Hendrickson the Fifth? Whitey? Wait, is that racist? ”

  The skeleton quite deliberately tuned Erin’s voice out of its head, at least as far as it could ignore the voice of its master. It scrubbed the ceiling with the fragment of the dustrag hard, wishing—as much as it could wish—that it held a weapon instead. Erin had made it leave the sword and axe in the kitchen while it was cleaning.

  It had no will. Skeletons weren’t supposed to have free will. But they weren’t supposed to level either, and the [Skeleton Warrior] was now Level 2. It didn’t know how to feel about that. It had one function: to serve. If leveling helped in that capacity, it would level.

  It just wished Erin would stop talking.

  “Bojangles. Bonerama. Bonehead. Friedman? Spinal Tap. Harambe. Jack? Jack Sparrow? Jack Skellington? Mr. Skeleton? Smiley Face?”

  A pause. The skeleton did not sigh in relief.

  “…Mike?”

  [Innkeeper Level 13!]

  [Skill – Loud Voice obtained!]

  1.09 R

  “Awaken, human.”

  I’ve listened to my share of alarm clocks over the years. When I was a kid, my parents gave me an old-fashioned one* that I had to wind up constantly or it wouldn’t go off. First chance I got, I switched it out for a digital alarm, and then my iPhone.

  *Vintage, if you’re a hipster. And if you are, don’t talk to me.

  I like to wake up early to run – thus as I got older, my alarm clocks got louder. The one in my room I bought because my iPhone wasn’t powerful enough. It could wake up the house if I left for my morning run and forgot to turn it off. And my folks have a big house.

  But no alarm clock or blaring fire alarm has ever gotten me into the waking world so quickly. The instant I heard those two words I woke up. It was like magic*.

  *Probably because it was magic.

  I raise my head and instinctively brace for agonizing pain. I don’t feel any, which is alarming in itself. I should be in incredible pain—or dead. And if I am dead, who woke me up?

  Please let it not be an old white guy who calls himself God.

  “Sit up.”

  Again, the voice of God does exactly what it says on the tin. I get up without even realizing I’m doing it. I was lying on the ground, but now the world tilts the right way up for me. What’s going on?

  I remember collapsing onto the floor. On paved marble tiles, to be exact. Paved marble tiles in the middle of a vast cavern, surrounded by a treasury/armory/mage’s laboratory/library of some kind.

  I’d like to look around, but my body is frozen. I sit completely still, unable to look around. I can see rows of dark bookshelves ahead of me, and then someone walks into view.

  There’s a man—yes, a man standing in front of me. The strangest, most attractive—

  Attractive? Him? He’s an old guy with a beard. I hate older men, mainly because they remind me of my dad. But this man—he’s different. Different from anyone I’ve met.

  For one thing, he looks amazing in multiple senses of the word. His hair is a pale white, but not gray. Rather—silvery? It has a luster about it that makes me wonder if he uses this world’s equivalent of hair gel. But even the greatest beauty pageant contestants and supermodels of my world don’t have hair like that.

  And he looks like a model. An Olympian athlete past his prime but with the same body. He looks like the kind of person Renaissance sculptors would make statues of, but even David wasn’t this in shape.

  Plus, he’s wearing robes that look like they’re kin to the ones Ceria bought. Magical robes that look like silk and shine—except that his clothing is even shinier*.

  *I think my brain’s literally shutting down. This is wrong. People…a person shouldn’t be this perfect.

  And then I look up and meet a pair of eyes that are both blue and violet.

  No. Blue and violet? What am I, in elementary school? The colors I see are far deeper than that. I look into this man’s eyes—

  And I see a tiny bit of magic caught forever.

  It should be impossible, but it’s like staring into one of those nebulas in outer space. The amethyst and azure—no, even those words aren’t good enough. When I see the celestial colors in his eyes the world heliotrope and cerulean spring to mind. Fancy words, to describe a wordless sight.

  The colors shift together in his corona, exactly like the ever-changing colors of the solar clouds. Nebulae. The pupils shift towards me and I feel like someone’s tagged me with a cattle prod*. I still don’t know how I’m uninjured or what this place is, but I can guess by assuming what he is.

  *I don’t know what that actually feels like firsthand but—it’s like my entire body is being shocked, and not just in a bad way.

  A mage. Or maybe the word sorcerer or wizard applies here. Because if this guy is a mage, he’s an archmage or a magus.

  The mysterious old mage-guy crooks one finger upwards at me.

  “Stand, please.”

  I push myself up and onto my feet easily, again sans pain or the gaping holes in my body I know should be there. Why?

  Now that I’m on my feet I see I’m also shorter than this man by at least a few inches. And I’m six foot one. He’s tall, handsome, and even if his skin isn’t dark it’s—

  I blink for a second. Odd, I could have sworn his skin was white, but it’s darker than that. He looks…middle eastern? Yeah, a moderate olive brown whitened by a long time out of the sun maybe. But I could have sworn he had white skin when I first saw him.

  His scales glow in the light. The golden dragon looks at me and—

  No—it’s the light. I want to look up, but the light is changing in the room, somehow. It’s as if there’s a massive color filter over the room, making everything appear different. Is there a massive mirror or something…?

  But then the mage looks me up and down and I realize something else is wrong. Namely, something is wrong with my clothes.

  My flesh is healed, but the fabric is weak. And when a bunch of pterodactyl-type birds start trying to shred you from above and Gargoyles are spitting stone chunks at you, a wardrobe malfunction is sort of inevitable.

  One of the stone shards must have cut me on the right shoulder, because my bra strap’s been sliced in two. That wouldn’t be so bad—except that an important part of my shirt is missing too. Right around the chest area.

  It’s cold in the cavern. But the old guy gives my breast one dismissive look and sighs. He doesn’t even seem vaguely interested, which annoys me more than I feel relieved he’s not some pervert-sorcerer*.

  *Look, obviously I care about the dignity of women. Anyone whistling at me on the street I have an urge to throw into a trashcan. But when nakedness occurs, you expect at least some kind of reaction out of any male, gay or straight or asexual. Even if it’s covering their eyes and turning away politely, or staring like a monkey. But this guy doesn’t even blink. Even a blind guy would be happier to be told there was a naked woman in front of him. Respect is very important, but I’d like some acknowledgement I’m more important than a rock.

  “Ah, of course. Clothing.”

  He tsks and raises a finger. I’d really love to dodge or ask what he’s doing, but I’m helpless.

  “[Repair].”

  His finger doesn’t even glow. Unlike when Sostrom repaired my iPhone, I can see no flash of magic. But magic does happen.

  In an instant my bra strap slithers back over my shoulder and reconnects itself. I feel without being able to turn my h
ead my clothing growing to cover the missing spots, sealing over in a matter of seconds.

  That felt…incredibly creepy. But I’m happier not to be catching a cold and the old mage seems happy too. He nods, once. Then he looks at me again.

  “Human, be silent and still. Do not speak or move save that I require a response. I will ask you questions and you will answer to the best of your abilities, promptly and audibly. You will perform no magic, and act in no violent ways while you are in my home.”

  He pauses. Wow. Most people just say hello when they meet me, or ask me if I want a pair of shoes.

  “Also, do not defecate, befoul, or otherwise sully this place in any way, shape or form. And stand up straight.”

  Okay, I’m not sure what humans he’s used to dealing with, but—my spine is already straightening. I can’t even glare at him. Crap. Is this some kind of magical hypnosis spell? But now he’s walking around me, slowly. Eying me like a piece of fish on sale at a supermarket.

  “I care not about your name, but you are a Runner, a messenger, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  I tried to say, ‘yes, asshole’, but apparently no violence means no backchat either. He nods like he expected that reply.

  “Very well. But then tell me—why did you risk such a dangerous request? Three of your kind have perished already attempting to reach my home. What drove you to risk death for this delivery?”

  Again, the response comes out of me instantly, before I even have time to really think about my reply.

  “For the reward. Forty gold pieces.”

  Now he looks disappointed.

  “Simply for that? No other reason?”

  Huh. Was this all some sort of test? Well, motor mouth, do your thing.

  “I took the request for the money, but also because I wanted to challenge myself. There are no other requests in the Runner’s Guild I could have taken, either. I am being blocked from other deliveries by fellow Runners, and this is the only request I could take.”