The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “What the hell was that?”

  —-

  The gem of [Terror] had worked. Toren scrambled through the snow, towards the herd of Corusdeer, knowing he wouldn’t get another chance to use it. The warrior that was alive-and-not-alive had only paused when he’d used it, which meant he was probably resistant.

  And just as the skeleton thought that, the warrior with the mace and shield charged towards him again. He was so fast! He exploded through the snow, leaving a trail behind him as he dashed at Toren, mace raised.

  This time the skeleton stood his ground. He swung his sword and dodged back as the mace flew at him. Too slow; Toren felt himself being sent flying again.

  But this time, he was close to the herd of Corusdeer. They looked up as one of Toren’s ribs flew through the air above their heads, and then began pawing the ground as they sensed intruders. Perfect.

  The warrior had paused, and Toren realized that the odd group of adventurers far away was probably controlling him. Slowly, he back up out of the Corusdeer’s territory. Toren watched him go, and looked around at the deer.

  They were igniting their horns, but not charging. Not yet, anyways. HE slowly began to walk away from them as well. Towards the armored warrior, which was death as well. But Toren moved slowly, because he was waiting. Waiting…

  They were almost out of range of the Corusdeer when it happened. A gust of air blew snow up into the sky. Toren had been waiting for that. He ran at the other warrior, and the phantom-man raised his mace. Toren knew he couldn’t win, not in a fair fight.

  But this fight was about to get less than fair. Because as the snow blew in a cloud past the Corusdeer, it turned to blowing steam and mist as it hit their horns. The blinding fog engulfed Toren and the phantom, and too late the construct realized the danger.

  He couldn’t see, or even breathe that well in the hot, vaporous fumes. But Toren had memorized the man’s position, and now he unleashed his gaze of [Terror] as well.

  The man with the mace swung blindly, creating an arc of whirling metal around his head. He shifted, crouching low as he looked left and right, waiting for the steam to dis—

  Toren’s purple flaming eyes appeared out of the steam, and his sword flashed forwards. His reassembled arm caught the mace and bone shattered once more as his sword flashed past the warrior’s neck.

  The slight gap where armor met flesh parted as the sword cut through the ghostly skin. The man choked as blood spurted from the wound. Toren hadn’t expected that. But the phantom was real enough, and he sank to his knees, gasping for air, dying.

  He looked up at Toren, and the skeleton thought he saw a smile cross the man’s face before his body dissipated, leaving his weapon, shield, and armor behind in the snow.

  The steam vanished, and Toren was left alone as the Corusdeer dimmed their horns and ignored the skeleton once again. He looked at the dented bronze armor, a relic from time long past. He reached down—

  And the arrow shattered his skull and sent Toren sprawling in the snow.

  —-

  Halrac lowered his bow and looked at Revi. The female mage was fuming, her eyes hot with fury.

  “It was too close to the Corusdeer. If we went after it, it would only make the herd angry. You’ve already lost one summon—unless you can recover it?”

  “No.”

  Revi said the words bitterly. She stared at the armor that was all that remained of Kelthor, and shook her head.

  “Once they’re dead again, they’re gone. If he was just injured I could restore him but—”

  She clenched her teeth.

  “What a waste. Let’s just go.”

  She turned, and Halrac hesitated as he looked at the armor. It was lying in the snow next to the fallen skeleton.

  “Do you want to recover the plate? It’s bronze, but it could be worth something—”

  “Tsk. Leave it. It’s just low-quality armor anyways.”

  The adventurers left. Revi was in no mood to talk, Typhenous was saddle-sore, Ulric was bored, and Halrac had to keep looking for potential dangers as they continued exploring for the entrance to the dungeon below Liscor. But the [Scout] kept looking back at the skeleton. It hadn’t been that strong, but it had been cunning. And what had that terror been? Some feature of the undead, or a magical item?

  It was dead, though. It lay in the snow, unmoving. But then why did Halrac still feel uneasy?

  —-

  It took a long time before Toren was sure he wasn’t being watched, and his skull was finally reassembled. He sat up in the snow and stared around. Well, he’d nearly died again, but he’d leveled up. A good trade, he felt.

  On cue, the notification began to read in his head, but with a pleasant surprise this time.

  [Skeleton Knight Level 20!]

  [Skill – Power Strike Obtained!]

  [Skill – Weapon Proficiency: Shield Obtained!]

  [Skill Change – Power Strike → Mirage Cut!]

  [Skill – Mirage Cut Obtained!]

  He was a [Skeleton Knight] now? Was that different than a [Skeleton Warrior]? And did that mean he had the [Knight] class, or was that different from being a skeleton? Toren had no idea, but he looked at the metal armor in the snow and decided that whatever the mysterious message in his head was telling him, it was a good idea.

  The armor was cumbersome to don, but when it was on Toren he felt tough. Heavy, and far slower, but tough enough to fight without needing to worry about being disassembled with each strike. He took the shield but left the mace in the snow; he preferred cutting weapons anyways.

  It was a long and slow trek back to the inn. Toren was worrying how Erin would react when she saw the armor. Maybe he could hide it? It had never occurred to him to hide anything, or to trick her, rather. But it beat her asking questions, and of course, it wasn’t as if she owned the armor. It was Toren’s. He’d won it.

  The annoying girl was probably going to be his responsibility when he got back. Toren dreaded that. Couldn’t he slow down?

  Toren was pondering all of this as he slowly walked back to the inn. Then his head snapped up. He saw the struggling shapes on the hill before he heard the sounds of fighting. Toren saw furred shapes—brown, grey, and black mainly, struggling around the inn, and several figures fighting. One held a sword; the others warded the Gnolls off with magic while one more had no weapons and was fighting with her fists.

  There was no time for thought, no time for action. Toren had no heart, but he felt a shock at his very core. Erin was in dangerous. Like her, hate her, he still had his duty. She was under attack, and that meant he would fight.

  Toren drew his sword and shield, and charged.

  2.21

  She was dying. Lyonette de Marquin registered this fact with better acceptance. She lay in the snow and knew it.

  She’d stopped moving. Lyonette knew she should keep moving, keep walking, but she was too tired and cold. But the biting, painful cold had stopped a while ago, and now she was feeling almost warm.

  But she was still dying. It was hard to open her eyes, and Lyon knew when she closed them next, she would never open them. So. Death. The knowledge was bitter, but at least it would stop the pain.

  What would be far worse, or so the girl felt, was that her death would be ignoble and untold. She would die like a dog, and that was worst of all.

  They had done this. The mongrels and lizard folk. Lyonette clung to life for a few more seconds just so she could hate for a while longer.

  Curse them. If she had one last wish, she would have sent fire and death to that city of monsters, Liscor. They had killed her. Her, a scion of the Marquin house, one of the Hundred Families of Terrandria, Sixth Princess in line to the Eternal Throne of Calanfer.

  And they hadn’t even the courage to kill her outright. Instead, she had been exiled, sent to wander through the snow until she collapsed. If she’d had her rings or cloak or any of her heirlooms—

  But of course, they were out of power. Drained complete
ly from overuse; their bindings broken. And the wretched creatures had taken the few that still had power.

  Lyon snarled weakly. Taken. What was hers by right had been stolen. She had been betrayed. That was the only reason she’d met this end. All these peasants, refusing to recognize her superior nature. If she had only reached Magnolia Reinhart. Then—

  The world was cold. Lyonette lay still on the ground. She looked up into the cold, grey sky and breathed out. Her eyes closed and—

  Erin charged over the top of the hill and skidded down the side. She ran straight towards Lyon, but didn’t see the girl. Lyonette saw Erin approaching first with incredulity, then hope, and then alarm when she realized the girl wasn’t stopping.

  “Where is she? Where is she? I can’t—whoa!”

  Lyonette felt a foot slam into her stomach and then Erin landed on top of her. The young girl gasped as Erin flailed about frantically.

  “What was that? What—oh.”

  Death was preferable to life at the moment. Lyon curled up into a ball of pain and then felt something touching her. She jerked and flaied at it feebly, but then—warmth.

  “Here. Hold still. Oh man, you’re so cold. Let me wrap this—”

  A thick woolen blanket wrapped itself around Lyon as if by magic, the girl felt part of the chill on her lessening. And then she looked up and saw Erin.

  The girl smiled down at Lyon with genuine kindness, warmth, and a bit of guilt.

  “Um. Hi.”

  Lyon blinked at her. Another human? Another girl? Her cold-addled brain struggled to work, and her mouth wasn’t helping.

  “W-w-wha—?”

  “I’m Erin Solstice. And you’re freezing. I have an inn nearby; can you stand?”

  Instinctively, Lyon tried to move her legs, but they’d been stuck in one place for too long. Erin leaned forwards and Lyon got a good look at her face.

  She was nothing special to look at. Part of Lyon thought that as it judged the other girl’s rough clothing, her unmannered appearance, speech, and conduct. But the other, larger part of Lyon looked at Erin and saw something shining.

  Erin held out a hand and smiled. And she was like the sun. She melted the cold gripping Lyon.

  “Come with me if you want to live. I’ve got crepes!”

  The other girl’s hand reached out and took Erin’s. Lyon couldn’t help it. Erin lifted her to her feet easily. Lyon tried to move, and gasped in pain. Her legs were numb and painful at the same time.

  “Here. Lean on me.”

  Erin bent down and got under Lyon, helping the girl. Half-dragging, half-supporting the girl, she made her way back through the snow.

  Lyon didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t really hear Erin as the other girl panted and tried to introduce herself and then gave up. She just knew she was being saved, and like a life wrecked survivor, she clung to hope.

  The inn stood on the hilltop in the distance, promising shelter, warmth, and food. Lyon’s knees buckled at the sight, and Erin caught her.

  “Come on. We’re nearly there!”

  Lyon needed no encouragement. She fought for more strength as the two girls began to ascend the gentle slope. Suddenly, she began to believe she might actually live. The knowledge was sweet joy.

  She took five more steps towards the inn, and began wondering how much coin Erin had, and whether the girl had a horse Lyon could take.

  —-

  “My name is Lyonette.”

  That was how the girl introduced herself after Erin had stoked the fire, gathered as many blankets as possible, and made some hot soup. Lyonette sat in front of the fire, shivering, cold, and now, suddenly, imperious.

  Lyon nodded regally at Erin, and gestured to her inn.

  “We—I thank you for your assistance in my time of dire need. You will be handsomely rewarded when I am restored to my proper station, I promise you.”

  Erin blinked. It was hard to take anything the girl said seriously. She looked like a multi-colored marshmallow with a tiny human head sticking out of it, so many blankets had Erin wrapped around her. Plus, her nose was drippy.

  “Oh, it was no problem. I was happy to help. When I heard you were out in the cold, I couldn’t just let you die.”

  “Just so.”

  The girl looked around the inn and sniffed. Erin wondered if she had any tissues, when Lyonette looked back at her.

  “I will stay at your inn for a while longer, perhaps a day or two. Then I will require assistance travelling north.”

  Well, that seemed reason—hold on. Erin’s mind backtracked and focused on Lyon’s words. Somehow, she felt like the girl had missed a step. Or ten.

  “What? Uh, no. No…I’m not sure what I said—I don’t think I said anything like that—but I’m not helping you travel. In fact, I was going to give you a job working here.”

  “What?”

  Now it was Lyon’s turn to pause and think. She stared at Erin in shock, and then fury.

  “You would have me work here, like a peasant? I am grateful for your help, make no mistake, but I require help.”

  Erin chose her words carefully.

  “I think I am helping you. A lot, actually. And I’m willing to offer you a job working here. It wouldn’t be hard—well, it might be hard at first, but you’ll get used to it. And I’ll give you room and board, and even some money. I can’t pay much but—”

  Lyonette stood up, shedding her blankets. She stared hard at Erin.

  “I intend to go north as soon as possible. I will not stay another minute in this—this hellhole of abominations and freaks!”

  Erin twitched at the word ‘abomination’. But she still kept her calm.

  “If you want to do that, I won’t stop you. But I’m not going to help you.”

  Lyon raised her chin and her eyes flashed.

  “I order you to assist me!”

  “No.”

  The girl stared darkly at Erin for a few moments, and then, alarmingly, suddenly switched to placid calm. She sniffed, and looked back towards the fire.

  “Very well. I will rest here instead.”

  Erin didn’t need to be suspicious; she already was. But she modulated her tone to calm, friendliness.

  “Okay, great! In that case I’ll wake you up at breakfast. You can rest today, but tomorrow I’ll show you the ropes. In a few days—”

  Lyon frowned.

  “I am not going to work. I said I would rest.”

  “Yeah…but if you’re going to stay here, you’ve got to work.”

  “Am I not your guest? And I am—weak. Why would you force me to work?”

  Lyonette looked hurt and reproachful. Erin’s friendly smile didn’t waver.

  “Well, you are a thief, aren’t you?”

  Lyonette’s face went blank for a second and her eyes flicked to Erin and then away. Erin had a sneaking suspicion the shivering girl was trying to think up a lie.

  “I know it’s you. You blew up…well, you destroyed my friend’s shop and robbed a lot of good people. But I didn’t want you to die out there, so I’m offering you a job.”

  “I don’t want it. I will head north as soon as I am well.”

  Erin took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding. She hated this kind of thing.

  “Well, in that case, you won’t be staying here, then. Sorry.”

  Lyon stared at Erin incredulously. Her eyes flicked towards the snowy landscape outside, and she wavered. Then a sly look flashed over her face for a second. The girl lightened her tone, looking at the door innocently.

  “I suppose I shall simply have to set out myself, then. In the cold and snow. I fear my death will be on your conscience, but then, you wouldn’t let me go out without provisions, would you?”

  Lyon’s obvious attempts to manipulate Erin angered her more than anything else the girl had done so far. Erin folded her arms.

  “A coat, and five days’ worth of food.”

  Lyon stared at Erin, caught off-guard.

  “What?
”

  “That’s all I’m giving you. A coat, maybe some pants and boots, and food. You’ll need a bag to hold it, so I’ll give you that and point you to the main road.”

  “But I will freeze long before I get to a city. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?”

  “Not really, but I won’t give you any more help.”

  Erin stared hard at Lyon. This was as bad as she’d feared. But she had to make herself clear.

  “I’m giving you one chance, Lyonette. One. That’s all. Either work for me at this inn, or try to get to another city, but if you go, I won’t save you even if you die a foot outside my inn.”

  Erin leaned forwards and Lyon leaned back. Erin’s gaze didn’t waver as she glared at Lyon.

  “You only get one chance.”

  The girl stepped back, rattled, and then moved away from the roaring fire. She looked at Erin and her expressions firmed.

  “I am—”

  The girl hesitated.

  “—Of the aristocracy in Terandria. A minor House—the Clavalettes. I am distantly related to the royal family, and I will be treated with respect!”

  “Really? Good for you. You’re still a thief. Take my offer, or you’ll be gone after dinner.”

  Lyonette stared at Erin, her pleasant mask gone as well. Her brow and nose wrinkled and she hissed at Erin.

  “Peon.”

  Erin’s face went blank. She knew that peon was an insult, but she wasn’t exactly sure what the word meant.

  “Well? Will you work here or not?”

  “I will—under duress! I graciously accept your offer.”

  Erin felt that last sentence should have been reworded, but she took it.

  “Okay. Fine. Good. Now, I’ll let you stay here, but you can’t steal anything. And I’ll make sure of that, because I’m not alone.”

  Lyon suddenly looked doubly wary, but she didn’t have time to move. Erin turned and called.

  “Ceria? Do you want to introduce yourself?”

  Ceria had been upstairs—the half-Elf had not enjoyed going searching for Erin, especially since the two had missed each other and she’d been outside longer than Erin by a good stretch. She descended the stairs and Lyon reacted by backing away.