by Pirateaba
Zel turned his attention back to the north. All he would receive here was censure and mockery. But north—
“What in the name of the Ancestors is happening right now?”
—-
Niers sat patiently on a small chair on top of his war room table in his tent. He eyed the cool fruit juice drink he’d poured for himself, but didn’t drink from it yet. It was an exercise in patience; a reward for a job well done.
In truth, there was something ironic about him waiting to drink what was really only a thimble’s worth of cooled juice given his immense personal wealth. Niers was nothing if not an economical person to feed even if he ate the most expensive dishes, but he made up for that thrift by spending his money lavishly elsewhere.
Right now he was waiting. Not waiting for something to happen, but waiting to receive word if something had indeed happened. He had been waiting patiently throughout the day, but now it seemed his patience would reward himself.
Someone tapped at the canvas door of his tent. Niers looked up and raised his voice.
“Enter.”
The flaps parted and the two soldiers at his tent let in a Courier holding a bundle of messages. Niers touched the offered seal and then took the stack of parchment.
None of them were particularly long pieces; most were just scraps rather than proper sheets. The Courier didn’t even glance at them as he left, although Niers knew he had to have been burning with curiosity. He might even have read them, although Niers knew the Runner’s Guild had very strict rules against that for Couriers.
It didn’t matter. If anyone could put together what Niers was up to from these pieces of paper he would be quite impressed. Most would probably not even bother. He liked to send messages to himself or send coded missives with nothing in them of value to friends quite often, just to annoy people who spied on him.
It made getting the important information that much easier. Niers looked down at the pieces of parchment and tried to sort them out. Each one had a message written in plain and neat script. He’d used the mage messaging service to receive these short communiques; he hadn’t even bothered to pay the extra fee that would make the messages supposedly more secure. It was just a waste of money and it attracted attention.
There was nothing very special about these messages anyways. They were just status updates, the kind of thing any leader might receive in the field. The only difference was the place these messages came from.
The longest piece of paper was still small enough for Niers to hold up by himself. He folded the piece of paper and put it on the table, next to a large map of Izril he’d bought. Niers stepped back and looked at the missive. The message was short and simple. It read:
‘Dungeon in Liscor opened. [Dangersense] triggered across city.’
So. A new dungeon was open. Niers nodded to himself. There was nothing strange about that. But what was strange was the next message he read:
‘[Dangersense] activated. Wales.’
Now, who would care about someone’s [Dangersense] activating? They went off all the time; when people were about to step on a rotted floorboard, or when a horse had lost control of a wagon, a monster was nearby…it happened often.
But each message had come in at the same time, and had been reported according to Niers’ request. He put the first message down and looked at the next one.
‘[Dangersense] alarm. Zeres.’
More mage [Messages], all with the same content. [Dangersense] reported in cities across the continent, all at the same time. Niers noted down where each report came from, and then traced a slow circle with a compass around the map. He stared down at the point of origin.
“Roughly the same diameter as before. This one’s a bit bigger.”
He walked off the map and sat down with a sigh on a tiny stool.
“So, they’ve found another one, have they?”
It was only a matter of time. Niers smiled briefly; he loved being right. But what did it matter?
Everything? If they found the treasures within, perhaps. Maybe more of the puzzle? Doubtful. It just meant the ruins were old, and possibly had truly legendary guardians and rewards for those within. He wondered whether the city would survive the influx of treasure-seekers and monsters that would be attracted to the dungeon.
But did it matter to him? Niers wondered. He kicked aside the pieces of parchment and abandoned the map for the moment. He walked across the large war room table, and then stared at something that glittered in his vision.
It was a letter, an opened one. Niers had already read the contents of the letter, but he looked at it again. He couldn’t help it.
The envelope was a work of art in itself in truth. It smelled of lavender, and the gilded edges of the letter sparkled gold in the light of the tent. Niers glanced at it once, and then again. Then he looked at the chessboard sitting next to the map.
The ghostly pieces stood silent in the humid air of the tent. Niers sighed and went back to his fruit drink. He eyed the dripping sides of the glass and then drained half the drink in one go. He scowled and looked back at the chessboard.
The pieces didn’t move. They hadn’t moved for over two days now. That bothered Niers, although it shouldn’t have. He knew the other player had a life and duties. But having completed his latest set of battles, Niers had been looking forwards to playing several games. Instead, the pieces had stopped moving one day, and though he’d waited hopefully, they hadn’t moved since.
They’d never been silent for this long. Niers didn’t know what it meant. Disaster? Or was the mysterious player bored of their game? Surely not. Were they hurt? Injured? Who were they?
He shook his head. But now Niers was irritated, and not even his cool drink was helping. A dungeon in Liscor. Adventure. A challenge. He couldn’t go there. That damnable letter he never should have opened, hinting, tantalizing. And the game, the one thing he wanted—silent.
Niers stomped over to the chessboard. He stroked his beard and scowled down at the pieces.
“Who are you? What piece of the puzzle am I missing?”
The pieces were silent. He wasn’t even in a good position in this game; he’d made a careless mistake and his opponent had happily punished him for it. But he’d been delighted because they were his equal. His better.
“Can you help me? Can I help you? Can I trust you? If we worked together—”
Niers broke off and shook his head. Speculation. That was all he had. If they returned to playing, he would know one thing.
If they returned. What if they were dying? He could find out who his opponent was. If he went—
But he had duties. Niers looked back at the map, then the letter, then the chess board.
He stared at the silent pieces, looked back again. Letter. Map. Chessboard. For once, the small [Strategist] was unsure of what to do.
—-
Erin sneezed. Once, and then twice. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and knew exactly what she had to do.
“I’m gonna get something else to eat. Ryoka, are you coming?”
The other girl looked up at Erin’s voice, but she didn’t respond right away. Erin shrugged and walked back into Agnes’ inn to get warm.
Inside, people greeted her with cheers and she was immediately bombarded with requests for more food. Erin smiled and chatted, but she didn’t go into the kitchen right away, even though Agnes was hinting at it strongly. She wanted to talk with Ryoka, but the other girl just stomped over to her table silently, a forbidding look on her face.
Maybe she was still upset about the news about the Goblins? Erin didn’t know what to think about that. She hoped Rags and her little tribe was safe; they were in Liscor, right? Hopefully they’d keep their heads down.
She felt really uneasy and upset for some reason. Maybe she was feeling guilty about beating up the adventurers? No. Maybe. A tiny bit.
Then the sensation was gone. Erin frowned and rubbed her nose on her sleeve again. Good thing she’d gotten out of the col
d. It was messing with her head.
Ryoka was shaking her head when Erin came over. The big girl she’d been with was in the bathroom, and Erin was slightly relieved; she’d looked sort of scared when Erin had introduced herself after the fight.
“Something wrong Ryoka? Ryoka?”
The other girl just looked at Erin, slightly haunted.
“We’re screwed, Erin. This news—we’re in it deep now.”
Erin frowned.
“We are? I mean, how do you know?”
Ryoka just shook her head. She spread her hands on the table and clenched them into fists. Erin’s gaze was drawn to her missing fingers. Ryoka studied them, and then looked at Erin.
“If there are Goblin warbands roaming the countryside, getting you back to Liscor safely will be a hundred times more difficult. I can’t protect you from them, and there could be thousands of them. There might be war here soon, and if that’s the case, not even Celum is safe. Maybe not even Liscor.”
Erin scratched her head. That did sound bad.
“Okay. But what can we do about it? I mean, we can’t do anything right now, right? So relax, Ryoka. It’s been a long day.”
“We can’t just take this easy, Erin! We have to think. We’re both in danger. You’re in danger!”
“I know. But you need to relax, Ryoka. We need to relax. Okay? We’re safe here, for now. Let’s worry about this when we’re more awake and we haven’t just been in a fight.”
Slowly, Ryoka looked at Erin and nodded. She seemed surprised, but Erin just smiled.
“Great. I’ll make us more food.”
The Asian girl half-smiled at Erin. Then her eyes flicked towards the door.
“Fine. Get ready to make some more food though; looks like you’ve got a crowd.”
Erin saw people were coming into the inn, lured by the noise, heat, crowd, and the recent fight. She beamed and stood up, opening the door for a surprised couple.
“Welcome to The Wandering Inn! Come in, have a seat; don’t mind the bodies. Can I get you anything to drink?”
The man in front stared at Erin in confusion. He looked at the woman by his side and then at Erin.
“I thought this was the Frenzied Hare? Did we come to the wrong inn? Or has it been sold?”
Erin blinked at him. Then she remembered she wasn’t in Liscor, and this wasn’t her inn. She turned slightly red.
“Oh. Oops.”
She stared at the man and woman .They stared back. Slowly, Erin opened the door wider.
“I’m uh, helping out. Come on in if you’re hungry. We’ve got hamburgers!”
After a moment of hesitation, the two did exactly that. Erin closed the door, and let the warmth of the room wash over her.
On this cold night, she felt alive. Happy, even. She was far from home, and lost, but she wasn’t lost. Ryoka was with her, and she had found something special with Octavia, even if the other girl was sort of a jerk.
The Goblins were bad news, and Toren was gone, but Erin had hope. She’d been through worse. She could get through this. With Ryoka. Together.
Erin stood in her inn and breathed in. Slowly. The scents of spilled beer and cooked food filled her senses, along with the unpleasant odors of sweat and throw up. She stopped breathing so deeply. But she still felt good.
It wasn’t the right city; it wasn’t even the right inn. But she was there, and Ryoka was there. And so, just for a moment, it was home.
Inside the inn, Erin sneezed again.
End of Volume 2.
3.00 E
I don’t dream of seeing. But I do dream of adventures. I think every boy does, and I never forgot that dream even when I grew older.
Yet it’s one thing to imagine being transported into another dimension or to another world, and quite another thing if it actually happens. Upon reflection, I think I would have rather eaten my quiche instead before I left, but we can’t have everything.
Day 1
When I found myself in another world, I picked up on it right away for a number of reasons. First: I’m pretty darn sure that a food court doesn’t have grass inside of it, or trees. Second, it just felt different.
The air smelled strange to me immediately. You think I would have noticed the sun on my skin, but it was the stark difference in the way the wind smelled to me that stood out first. It’s like…honestly, it’s like the difference between living in a polluted city like New York – no, scratch that, somewhere really polluted like Hong Kong or Beijing – for a few months and then going somewhere where the air is pure and clean.
There is a quality to the air. In bad places like airports, it smells sterilized and stale, and that goes double for airplanes. In a polluted place, it’s more pervasive than anything else; after a while you get used to it, but then the fog is in your lungs, making even breathing harder than it should be.
The difference between clean air and polluted air is tangible even to people who don’t take that much notice of it. But the difference between the relatively clean food court and the place I was now in?
Unimaginable.
I look around, the bacon quiche still in one hand, my walking stick in the other. I feel like I should be freaking out but honestly, I don’t want to start running about. I can’t tell what’s around me right now except that I’m now standing on the grass, and I’d hate to run into a tree, if there are any in the area.
If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m blind. That’s not legally blind, of which there are many variations. I mean I see nothing. Not blackness, not a distinction between light and dark—nothing. That’s fine by me, but most people I’ve met make a big deal about it.
Normally, I get on just fine no matter where I go. I have good friends, my parents are overprotective, and I can always ask for directions or help in a pinch.
Which would be now. The only problem is, I’m getting the distinct impression I’m alone. My best friend Zoe is not sitting at a table a few feet ahead of me, and I can hear birds.
I sweep the ground cautiously around me with my cane, pausing as I feel dirt at the tip and grass. That’s definitely not ceramic tiles. Either someone’s playing an amazing prank on me or—
“Hello? Zoe? Is anyone there?”
No response. This is like a bad dream, the kind I used to have as a kid where I’m lost in a huge building with no cane and no one around me. Only then I kept imagining something was sneaking up on me and it was dark.
“Hello?”
This…place is clearly somewhere in the light. I can feel sunshine on my skin, and I’m pretty sure it’s early morning judging by the dew on the grass. I know that because I’ve sat down.
Some people freak out when the unexpected happens. If I were someone else I might run around screaming, or panic. But being blind means that you learn bumping into things at high speeds is a bad idea. Plus, I still have the quiche in my hand.
I rest it on my lap as I sit to think. Well, I’m somewhere else. Not in the mall. I might have suspected a prank, but Zoe isn’t nearly that cruel, and it’s not as if I’ve blacked out or been distracted. I literally just took a step and found myself…
Here.
“Is it a forest? Or a meadow? A hiking trail?”
I touch gingerly at the grass and ground. Yep. That feels like morning dew. The grass is long and uncut—another sign? I’m not on someone’s lawn here. And then I find a flower.
It feels soft under my fingertips. The petals nearly stick to my skin, and I recoil when I realize the head of the flower is wet. What kind of flower is this? Has a bird or something pooped on it?
“…No. Nectar.”
It smells sweet and odd, and like nothing I’ve ever smelled in my world. Already I’m at the other world conclusion, but this time I’m pretty damn sure.
The flower smells spicy-sweet, but also dark if that makes sense. It smells dark like I imagine the shade appears to people—not that I’ve ever seen it for myself. But I can imagine the shade—a wet, creeping thing as wide
as an ocean that sucks up sunlight. That’s closest to the smell of this flower.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever smelled before, and I have a good memory. I’ve visited huge greenhouses and even flower gardens across different countries in the world – the Keukenhof Gardens in the Netherlands were my favorite – and never come across this unique smell.
Cautiously, I reach down and pick the flower. I feel a bit bad, but I have to touch it, feel it. I’m aware it could be poisonous, but I don’t care. I smell it again, and this time realize the center of the flower was indeed sticky with that nectar.
Do I dare taste it? No, that’s probably too risky. But that adds to my theory. I am somewhere else, and something…strange has happened to me.
“Magic? Teleportation? Some kind of ultra-vivid hallucination?”
It can’t be real. But some part of me whispers ‘yes it is’. Yes it is.
This is real. You’re in another world.
And that makes me smile. Even if the curtain falls down in the next second or it turns out I’m being tricked. For a second I believe.
The air smell different. Cleaner. Sweeter, even. For that matter, even the sunlight feels…odd. I could have sworn it was quite warm in San Francisco—warm enough that Zoe and I went into a mall to cool down. But today feels like a crisp autumn day.
A breeze ruffles my hair. I smell grass and that strange otherworldly smell of flowers I’ve never seen before. And I hear a bird warbling off in the distance. That at least sounds normal.
It’s such a pleasant day. I could get up and walk into uncertainty, but right here the grass is soft. It could be I’m sitting right at the edge of a cliff and I’d never know. But here is nice.
How long did I sit there, holding the quiche in my lap, just listening to the wind and birds? An hour, maybe. I sat and listened and grew more and more convinced that I was somewhere else. Somewhere special.