The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  When they’d finally gotten a fire going and lit up the jungle with their phones and other devices, Ken and Aiko had stuck with the others, trying to speak English and explain where they were from. A lot of kids from India had kept to themselves and didn’t speak to others much. They vanished on the first day.

  In the days that followed as the travelers from another world tried to find civilization, more people left, suspicious or afraid they’d been caught up in a trap. They departed secretly in the night, or openly in larger groups.

  A little over half of the original number had stayed together. The Americans, Australians, and some other people from European countries stuck together, and a lot of other people from countries with no friends came as well. Ken and Aiko followed the majority because they had no idea what to do.

  Now of course, after deciding as a group to sign up as soldiers in order to eat and survive, everyone still didn’t know what to do. But they did talk among each other anxiously.

  “Hey. I have water for you two. Need some?”

  The tall young man named Luan was back, with water flasks. Ken thanked him profusely before taking his and washing his filthy hands. Aiko did the same on the spear she’d recovered from the zombie, splashing water carelessly on it until Xor shouted at her not to waste supplies. She jumped, and Luan scowled in his direction.

  “Asshole. You know, I haven’t seen him smile once? Apparently all Dullahans are like that. Do you know them? Their legends, I mean.”

  Ken blinked at Luan. The other young man was clearly not from America—there was something about the way he spoke, and how he didn’t fit with the other Americans. He wasn’t from any of the other major groups either, because he didn’t talk with them all the time. Ken nodded slowly, trying to reply as best he could.

  “I do know. But they are…how can I say this? Fairy tale? They are…not-real things. Stories. Or so I thought.”

  Luan nodded.

  “Some of the guys are saying they think they’re like monsters.”

  “Like monsters?”

  Ken turned and stared at some of the other Dullahan recruits. They had taken their heads off their armored bodies and were pouring water into their mouths. They could take their heads off their bodies, leaving only a glowing light from within. He spoke hesitantly.

  “I think they are people like us, but they look so much like—like…Aiko, how do I say—?”

  He conferred with Aiko and turned to Luan.

  “Like walking armor, yes? Like knight armor, from Western culture?”

  Luan’s face lit up and he grinned.

  “Oh! Yeah, I get it. I was thinking they looked a bit like Alfonse. You know, from Full Metal Alchemist, yeah? I loved that anime!”

  Ken and Aiko stared at him blankly. Ken nodded slowly.

  “I think I know what you are saying. But Aiko and I—”

  He broke off and conferred with Aiko. She hadn’t seen it either. Rather than be surprised at their lack of encyclopedic knowledge of all things anime, Luan laughed.

  “That’s okay. I’m a bit of a weeaboo. Do you know that word?”

  Someone obsessed with Japanese culture. Ken nodded and smiled.

  “I like anime, but I have not watched many recently. But Aiko and I agree—this is like an anime.”

  “A horrible one.”

  Aiko’s face was pale as she sipped from the water canteen. Luan nodded, growing serious.

  “This is some bad shit, mate. I was worried about you two when Quallet told you to fight, but you did well! You stabbed that guy right through the stomach! Bam!”

  He demonstrated and Aiko’s face went pale again. Luan put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump at the unexpected contact.

  “Sorry. I know this is all horrific.”

  “No, it’s okay—”

  She hesitated, and Ken realized she didn’t remember Luan’s name. To cover for her, he hastily spoke up.

  “This is Luan-san, Aiko. And I am Kenjiro. I am very pleased to meet you.”

  He bowed slightly to Luan, who then smiled and introduced himself.

  “I’m Luan Khumalo. You two are from Japan, yes?”

  “Yes. Where are you from, Luan-san?”

  “You can call me Luan. I’m from South Africa.”

  “Oh! What place in south Africa?”

  Luan paused, and Ken saw Aiko cover her face and start laughing at him. It took Luan a moment to explain, and then Kenjiro’s face turned red.

  “Oh. I am so sorry!”

  Ken bowed his head, feeling flushed with embarrassment. But Luan only laughed heartily.

  “its fine, it’s fine! I’ve met a lot of people who have no idea South Africa is a place.”

  Thus, they became friends. As Quallet stood everyone up and lectured them at a roar on how to fight better next time, and then marched them onwards, Ken and Aiko began talking to Luan as the company moved down the jungle trails.

  Luan was the first person they’d really got to know, and he was well-spoken, friendly, and strong. He carried his weapon and walked without succumbing to the heat, which was apparently, aside from the humidity, cooler than back home. Ken felt like he was in Okinawa, and he’d never been to Okinawa.

  “Your English is really good. I am very jealous.”

  Aiko commented to Luan as they were on the road. He smiled knowingly.

  “Yes. It is, isn’t it? I grew up speaking English.”

  “Really?”

  They stared at him. Luan laughed again.

  “I can speak four languages. English, Afrikaans, Zulu, Tswana…you can speak two, right?”

  “Yes, but not good.”

  Ken was acutely aware of how hard it was to speak with other people in English, and had kept silent up until now because of it. But Luan took the opposite view.

  “Even if one is not as good as the other, that should be a good thing, not a bad thing. Most of these Americans can only speak one. If there were other people from Africa around, I could speak about them behind their backs.”

  Ken and Aiko laughed, and then immediately looked around to see if anyone had heard. No one had.

  The group they were in, the group of people from another world was indeed filled with Americans. They were the majority, and in a way, they’d taken charge. Several of them, mainly guys, seemed to have the final say in what was going on. They’d been the ones to suggest signing up with Quallet, and they were the most vocal, and thus, the most persuasive, members of the group.

  They were also the most ready to be fighting. Some hadn’t been bothered at all by killing zombies, talking about this being like a movie or T.V. show, and seemed positively happy about the prospect of leveling up and fighting. By contrast, Ken and Aiko would have loved to de-enlist from Gravetender’s Fist, but they were stuck. Luan seemed to share their opinions.

  “What did you two do when you were in our world?”

  “We are…were students in university.”

  “Oh, right! How old are you?”

  Ken was twenty one, Aiko twenty two. Both of them were in the same classes. Luan grinned when he realized they had known each other all their lives.

  “You two got into the same university?”

  “That’s right. I was studying to be in business and Aiko-san—”

  “I was trying to learn to be an artist. Not manga—I do illustrations.”

  “Ag, shame! That’s great.”

  “Shame?”

  The two of them looked blank. What Luan said made no sense—until he explained.

  “Shame means good in South Africa. It’s like if you said—I found twenty bucks, yeah? Then I’d say, ‘Shame!’”

  “Oh. I think I understand…”

  Perhaps it was because they were both from different cultures that Ken and Aiko felt at home speaking with Luan. Unlike the people from America, they were alike in how they were all foreigners, outsiders to the main group. Aiko asked the obvious question to Luan.

  “What did you do, Luan
?”

  He grinned, showing them very white teeth.

  “Oh, me? I was on my country’s national Olympic rowing team.”

  It took a few seconds for Ken to interpret this. When he did, he tripped. Aiko’s eyes went wide.

  “Eh? What?”

  They stared. It took a while and Luan had to explain himself several times, but the world of Olympic kayaking slowly opened itself up to the two Japanese students.

  Luan was an Olympic contender. Not an Olympian—he hadn’t gone to the Olympics, but he would have in 2020. He was South Africa’s first hope for a Silver or Gold medal in his event, the single scull.

  He had trained to be part of a Coxless pair, which was a specialized type of boat that allowed for two rowers to use it at the same time. Luan was usually on the bow side—which was to say, the left side of the boat—and competed his good friend, Ben, who had the same goal as Luan. They wanted to take home the gold medal in the next Olympics, and had trained themselves intensively until they had become a serious contender, despite South Africa only having ever won one gold medal in the rowing event in the Olympics.

  Being part of a coxless pair was extremely difficult, because Luan and Ben both had to balance each other and cooperate to move and row with the same force to go fast through the water. Luan had originally wanted to compete as a single scull—a type of event where only one person rowed with two paddles—but he’d met Ben while training and the two had become instant best friends.

  However, because there were already two excellent rowers forming a coxless pair who’d won a Silver-medal in the 2016 Summer Olympics, Lawrence Brittain and Shaun Keeling, Luan had put his hopes on winning in the single scull event, and his times were good enough for him to seriously aim at the gold medal. He’d been in Australia for a break when he’d been transported to another world.

  “You know, it’s shitty lucky, but at least Ben will get a chance to go instead of me, eh? He’s dreamed of being an Olympian as long as I have.”

  Luan said all of this so casually that Ken couldn’t believe it. Luan was—well, he was one of the best rowers in the world. He was an athlete—which also explained why he didn’t seem fazed by the marching or fighting like the others.

  Ken had no idea how to behave with Luan, until Aiko pointed out what should have been obvious.

  “You are a good friend. I hope we will go back in time for the Olympics, and you can compete and win!”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Luan smiled at Aiko and looked ahead. There was a quiet worry in his eyes, though, and Ken saw it. Luan turned to them, serious, as the final day of their march wound to a close.

  “You two should stick together with me. It’s going to be bad up ahead. I don’t think the others realize it, but that Quallet guy and the other experienced soldiers know it too. Our job is going to be dangerous no matter what he says.”

  “But he said we will be safe, right? Safer? We will only fight zombies, not other people.”

  Ken tried to swallow the fear that had jumped up in his gut. He would have liked Luan to lie in that moment, but the tall South African young man looked down at him. He was older than both Ken and Aiko by several years. He was twenty five, and there was something knowing in his eyes.

  “It’s a war, Ken. Believe me, wars are never safe.”

  The next day they arrived at the battlefield, a wide valley miles long, where two armies sortied from camps on hilltops and met in the valley floor. Hundreds of bodies fell each hour and the screaming—

  Oh, the screaming.

  —-

  Quallet knew he’d come close when he heard the sounds of mage spells in the distance. There was a rhythmic thump of something extremely powerful hitting the ground. He immediately signaled a halt.

  “Raise the banner!”

  It was essential to do this straight away. Each company had a banner and raising it was the only way to identify themselves. It might not mean they were safe, but an unmarked group wandering around would definitely be attacked by all sides. Under a banner, Gravetender’s Fist was at least nominally protected.

  “We’re headed into a battlefield, but we are not fighting anyone living. The first soldier to draw arms or provoke the enemy I will cut down. Is that clear?”

  Quallet addressed the company, impressing on them the seriousness of the charge. Then he had them move out, slowly, the banners waving as he approached the site of the battle.

  His company was spotted instantly, of course. The [Generals] and [Commanders] of both sides kept sentries posted for attacks from every direction. In no time, a patrol of Centaurs was racing towards him.

  Although suppression companies like Gravetender’s Fist provided a service needed by all sides, Quallet had contracted with the Roving Arrow company, which was mainly Centaurs, although Quallet knew they’d probably hired smaller companies to supplement their forces.

  He didn’t get to meet with the company’s [Commander]—in fact, he didn’t meet with any officers. Quallet was instead directed to a neutral zone, away from the fighting and told brusquely that other suppression companies—those hired by the opposing side as well—were there.

  This too was a standard practice in war. War vendors, [Merchants] who specialized in sales to an army during a conflict, as well as suppression companies and other independent parties often frequented battlefields. The custom was that there were areas untouched by the fighting, clearly marked as neutral zones where they stayed.

  That was the custom. Although Quallet knew that sometimes such companies masqueraded as neutral and influenced a battle covertly—or overtly if they broke the rules of war. It was rare and such a company would be marked for all of time, but it did happen. He only prayed that this battle wouldn’t see such an event occurring.

  It wasn’t likely. And everything seemed normal as Quallet found two other undead suppression companies waiting for nightfall in the space already allocated. Rot’s Bane, a small group of experts and Untimely Demise, a large company full of green soldiers much like his own, were already set up in the best spot. Quallet directed Xor and Raeh to set up where they could as he met the two other company [Captains].

  “Quallet Marshhand! I told you this would be a profitable battle!”

  The first man to stride towards him was a bald fellow named Ulvial. He was in charge of Untimely Demise and wasn’t as good a warrior or leader as Quallet—but he made do with a set of officers that stayed with him

  “Ulvial. Good to see you. Thanks for tipping me off about this battle.”

  Quallet clasped hands with him and nodded to the second [Captain]. She was a Centaur named Exara. He’d never worked with her directly, but he’d heard her small group was efficient and disciplined.

  “A pleasure to work with you, Captain Exara.”

  “Pleased.”

  She trotted over to him and gripped his hand in a light handshake. Quallet looked around the open area they’d been assigned and noticed a group of Centaurs staring at them. All of them were armed and alert.

  “Not your group, I take it.”

  Exara shook her head.

  “Guards. They’re watching my company since our contract was bought by the Razorblades.”

  “Huh.”

  That was odd. Normally suppression companies were trusted—they banked their ability to be hired on their reputations for honest work without bias. Quallet frowned, but reassured himself with the knowledge that he was on the same side as the Centaurs. He looked back at Ulvial.

  “Your company looks quite large. Expecting a lot of undead to work with?”

  “Yes indeed! Haven’t you seen the battlefield? Both the Centaurs and Dullahans are carving each other up out there.”

  “What’s the feud about?”

  Exara and Ulvial shrugged at the same time. They didn’t know, didn’t need to know. They only had to do their jobs.

  “Some land argument? Money? Someone hired them? Either way, we’ll earn gold by the fistful for dealing wit
h all the bodies.”

  “It’ll be a chore between our companies.”

  Quallet was already calculating the ground they had to cover. The valley was big—he was used to such sizes, but they’d have to work in quadrants, possibly saving some areas for other days if they didn’t have enough forces.

  “Oh, we’ll be working into dawn each day. But we’ll be paid for it, and paid well! It’s simpler and easier than dying in this bloodbath, that’s for certain.”

  Ulvial laughed and Quallet winced. Suppression companies were indeed paid well, mainly because they were doing fighting of their own, but regular companies resented the need for them. Large ones like the Great Companies made their soldiers do the work, and there wasn’t a regular soldier alive who didn’t resent a suppression company from staying out of the real danger.

  Some of the Centaur guards were glaring. To change the subject, Quallet asked about a map and was shown to the one Exara and Ulvial had already carved up into portions. He studied it and tapped a spot as he conferred with the other two.

  “We’ll take the west side and work our way in. I’ve a group of new recruits, most of which don’t know a sword from their own arm.”

  They nodded, not bothered by the spot he’d chosen. It was off-center from the fighting, which meant Quallet would get less corpses to deal with. Each suppression company was paid by the amount of corpses they disposed of, by fire or sword.

  “Fine by me. I’ll take the south, then.”

  “And I’ll head in from the east. Just make sure to have your banners up and illuminate yourselves. The soldiers from both sides are on heavy night patrol and they’re jumpy.”

  Exara warned the other two [Captains] and Quallet nodded seriously. The last thing he needed was to tangle with soldiers from either side and get any killed. Ulvial grunted in agreement.

  “No fear. I’ve seen what happens to anyone who sticks their heads out of the neutral zones. The fighting’s everywhere. Speaking of which, have you heard there’s another independent group out there? Not just the war vendors—some kind of rogue unit!”

  That got Quallet’s attention. Rogue detachments of soldiers were a wildcard. They could be a group of warriors or bandits or any number of things that entered the fray on one side or none at all. They were a danger to suppression companies if they attacked while they were working.