by RW Krpoun
“What about enchantments?” Derek asked. “We had quite a few.”
Shad unrolled a cloth to display a half-dozen coin-sized fragments of crystal. “Katai. I use them to etch runic enchantments on your gear. If you are like me, your weapons are also master craftsmanship. I’ll apply them when I’m more comfortable with my class and skills.”
“What about money?” Jeff asked Fred.
“Not bad. We have twenty gold ku, forty-one silver bu, and sixteen copper zen. Eight bu make a ku, and twelve zen make a bu. A ku is pretty valuable.”
“It would be usual for Jeff to pay for all of us,” Derek pointed out.
“He can, but Fred holds the main stash,” Shad said with finality.
“Man, you make one controversial investment…,” Jeff rolled his eyes.
“Investment my ass,” Fred jabbed a thick finger at the Shop teacher. “Your Dwarf ripped the party off throughout the entire War Hammer campaign.”
“I was playing my character. Why did you think he became a Slayer?”
“Slayer backgrounds are secret,” Shad shook his head. “And the Slayer path is redemptive in nature. If he was still a thief he wouldn’t have taken the Slayer Oath.”
“I disagree.”
“Well, be that as it may, but you’re still not holding the money.”
“I can’t believe I’m getting punished in real life for an in-game choice.”
“I can’t believe I’m sitting on another world and able to cast magic, but here I am. There’s lots of things that are hard to believe.”
“I’m getting some sleep,” Derek announced before the too-familiar debate went on any longer. “Let’s end the discussion.”
“So,” Derek puffed clouds of vapor in the cold morning air. “What now?”
The Black Talons were standing in front of the hut in the weak morning light, the donkey (now named Ula) loaded and everyone ready to go.
“We find Cecil, kill him, and destroy the Staff, ideally before he gets to Mount Doom,” Shad slid loose wool mittens over his hands, which were already encased in tactical gloves. “That’s the core quest. The immediate task is to find a town, take our bearings, resupply, read all the books and scrolls we captured, and start coming up with an actual plan.”
“Any ideas on how we do that?” the Ronin persisted.
Shad looked around at the surrounding trees. “The trail, I suppose. If we could get some height we could look for smoke, but these trees are too thin to climb. The next best thing if the trail doesn’t pan out would be to be to find a stream and follow it downstream.”
“This place looks like Minnesota,” Fred observed. “Flat and covered in glades of thin trees.”
“Birch trees,” Derek noted absently. “I think we’re further up the curve of the planet than we were in the Realm.”
“Every trip seems to see us landing further north,” Jeff stomped his feet to warm them. “I wonder if each Sphere is just a duplicate of Earth?”
“Probably,” Shad shrugged disinterestedly. “The trail we followed led us to this hut and ends here, so I guess we follow it the other way and see what there is to see.”
“You know, Conan always knew exactly where to go,” Jeff observed as the four started walking.
“I’ll tell you where to go,” Shad offered.
“You think we’ll face ninjas here?” Derek wondered.
“Ninjas were just legend…,” Shad’s voice trailed off as the others grinned. “Well, if we do there’ll be fewer ninjas when we’re done.”
“What time of year is it?” Fred wondered. “Are we just starting winter, or what?”
“Springtime is close,” Jeff pointed to the nearby trees. “See the icicles? It has gotten warm enough lately to do some gradual melting and there is an icy crust under the first inch of snow. It’s still winter, but spring is starting to make its play.”
“I’m starting to miss the horses,” Shad admitted. “They would be handy for warmth. Derek, you have the social and cultural background, give us a briefing.”
“Are we going to be the only white guys?” Fred asked as the four trudged through the snow.
“Nope. But we’ll be in a minority. Those in on the breakout attempt were Asian or Pacific islanders, but as usual a bunch of others got caught up in the blast radius, so to speak.”
“What about armor?” Jeff asked. “There’s no bamboo, which was a foundation of Japanese armor.”
“It’s mostly buffs, padding, and leather,” Fred said. “I don’t know why.”
“Because they’re metal-poor,” Derek explained. “There’s an iron shortage here, same as the Japanese had. Look, the mix of other cultures and changed terrain has had a big impact on the culture we are going to be dealing with, but old Nippon is the dominant theme. There’s less silk, and the buildings are probably better built because they have harsher winters and no earthquakes to deal with, but remember that the culture they came from was very staid, very set in its ways. These people place an enormous value on honor, which they call on, but it’s not honor like we think of it, but rather…the look of things. A public face, appearances. They are ruled by an Emperor, with Daimyos as barons of various territories.”
“Except that the fighting that went on in old Japan isn’t present,” Shad noted. “Back then the Emperor was mostly a figurehead and whichever Daimyo controlled the capital controlled the nation, if I remember correctly. Anyway, here the Emperor rules and there isn’t much more than skirmishing between Daimyos. Huge amounts of intrigue, but not much fighting.”
“Why? It’s an extremely warrior-based culture,” Jeff pointed out.
“Because they have bigger problems,” Shad kicked a rock, sending it bouncing across the snow-covered ground. “The Death Lords. The Undead are a constant challenge, and the Death Lords control a big swath of ground up north, they call it the Nightland, with the Rift of Spirits or Rift of Dreams in the center. The Death Lords launch raids, occasional invasions, and a constant trickle of creatures to harass the Human lands. Plus the usual non-Human issues.”
“So we can figure Cecil is making a beeline for the Nightland,” Fred sighed. “Which means we’ll have to go in there after him.”
“If we don’t die in the forest trying to find someone to talk to,” Jeff grinned. “By the way, no left shoulder deal we saw in the Prison.”
“There is, but we don’t have it,” Derek stopped to adjust his socks and then trotted to catch up. “It indicates on, and only Samurai can see it. Ronin cannot see it unless we complete the ceremony binding us to a master.”
“Great.”
“What is really scary is that we have Samurai living in Minnesota and Canada is now a land of Undead horror,” Jeff pointed out.
“I never liked Canada,” Shad observed. “You notice they spent all the 90s invading other countries?”
“They’re called Humanitarian missions,” Derek rolled his eyes.
“Sure, and Hitler claimed he invaded Poland because the Poles attacked a German radio station. I’m just saying they’re up to something. They’re too polite.”
“There’s not many of them, population-wise,” Fred noted.
“Says who? The country is huge, and nobody goes up there. They could have three hundred million Canadians goose-stepping through the snow up there. And they’re constantly importing sepoys from the Third World.”
“Shad, you can find fault with anything,” Derek shook his head.
“You know, it kind of ties in with my theory that the Girl Scouts are a recruiting pool for terrorist organizations,” Fred admitted.
Derek groaned.
“Look what we have,” Shad pointed: up ahead their faded path ended in a rutted track running roughly north-south. “Roads lead somewhere.”
“Given what we know, I think we should head south,” Jeff suggested.
“Let’s see if there are any tracks, but otherwise south works for me,” Shad agreed.
“By the way, the reason there
was no armor on our price lists is because master-less men cannot wear or even own armor,” Derek announced after the Talons had ascertained there were no fresh tracks and turned south.
“Keeps the power in the hands of the Establishment,” Jeff nodded thoughtfully.
“Jeff is your butt-boy, so he should be able to buy armor,” Shad shrugged. The Shop teacher promptly flipped him off.
“It’s like the chain of command.” Derek shook his head, the motion exaggerated by his coolie hat. “Individual samurai are sworn to their House, Houses are sworn to Daimyo, Daimyo are sworn to the Emperor.
“I take it a house is like a clan?” Fred asked.
“Yeah. An extended and interwoven family working together.”
“Who do the common folk swear to?” Shad pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself.
“They’re more obligated than sworn. The House extends them protection in return for service. It’s really complicated, but being a peasant generally sucks. Being a non-person sucks even worse.”
“Stands to reason,” Fred nodded. “So it’s all pretty feudal.”
“Yeah, only without the Church to act as an impartial body.”
“Speaking of religion, Shinto and Buddhism were big in old Japan,” Jeff pointed out. “What about here? I’m still only getting bits and pieces of class knowledge.”
“They’re conspicuously absent,” Derek said glumly. “Just like in the Prison and the Realm.”
“Huh.” Shad thought about that. “In all, I think the continuing absence of religion does not work in our favor.”
“So how long before Cecil reaches Mount Doom and drops the hammer on this place?” Jeff asked after the Talons had trudged along in silence for a while.
“I’m not sure, but not terribly quick,” Derek observed. “I’ve lost the class knowledge that I had in the Prison, but I recall that he had an entire course of action to complete before he could use the Staff to summon the Wind of Souls.”
“He wanted the books and scrolls we captured,” Shad pointed out. “And he was concerned with the possibility of our following him. I think it is a safe bet that his need for preparation translates into an opportunity for us to seriously impact his plans.”
“I never understood why he could bring stuff through from sphere to sphere, but we can’t,” Fred muttered.
“The red cords,” Shad answered before Derek could. “Sorry, Derek.”
“Hey, you’ve got the class skills now.”
“The red cords created a sort of exception; we got credit (to use a phrase) for the wealth, enchantment, and experience we had acquired, but he needed to bring actual items. He must have been making the cords for years. Speaking of which, you read his checklist, Derek: what all did he take with him?”
The Ronin looked surprised, then thought carefully. “The Staff went first, then a small chest of tools, himself…then six bundles.” The Samurai frowned at the road as he walked. “But Amid must have started out of order-we captured bundles one, two, three, five, and six.”
“Interesting.” Shad adjusted his coolie hat thoughtfully.
“What?” Jeff asked.
“For twenty-seven more days Cecil can track us-one lunar cycle, remember? Then as outlanders we’re invisible. Of course, he’s an outlander, too. But my thought is this: if this little vacation reading list is important to his plans, then he is going to come for them. Derek disabled the trackers, but he has to figure we have the bundles.”
Fred chuckled. “Good.”
“It could very well be,” the warder agreed.
The four trudged through the snow in silence for a while. “Man, we’ve seen some stuff.” Derek sighed.
“I’ve seen snow before,” Shad shrugged.
“I mean…we’ve seen other worlds.”
“Not really by choice.” Shad frowned thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose you could call this one by choice. Remind me: why the hell did we come here?”
“Because we’re hee-rows,” Jeff shook his head, his cloth cap bobbing with the motion. “Which is just another way of saying idiot.”
“We were cornered at the top of a pyramid and low on ammo,” Fred reminded them. “We didn’t go full altruistic.”
“Never go full altruistic,” Jeff grinned and banged knuckles with the big Talon.
“Besides, we have no idea what Cecil’s goal entails; if his plan goes right the bastard could come for us in the real world,” Shad pointed out. “Better to hit them before they can hit us. First rule of diplomacy.”
“That has nothing to do with diplomacy,” Derek held up a hand in dismissal. “Pretty much the opposite.”
“Did your career package come with party leadership included?” the warder inquired.
“Well, not exactly...”
“Then shut up before I kick your ass.”
Chapter Two
“There’s a clearing up ahead,” Fred pointed.
“Great, maybe we can get some lunch,” Shad said thoughtfully. “Plus we could buy a peasant and have him carry a rick of burning straw for the next walk we take in this freakin’ snow.”
“You don’t buy peasants,” Derek objected. “And how do you know that’s not just a…well, a natural gap?”
“Too abrupt and too even,” the warder gestured towards the approaching gap. “Either peasants have been clearing fields for growing stuff or this sphere has developed sentient beavers.”
“That could be what Canada is planning,” Jeff suggested.
“They’re definitely up to something,” Shad said absently, peering into the distance. “Is that movement?”
“Yeah,” Fred muttered, removing the cords he had used to fashion a rough sling for his great club. “Coming towards us.”
Shad pulled off his mittens and tucked them under his belt. “Who does the talking?”
“Depends on who is listening,” Derek hitched his sheathed katana forward. “Normally Jeff; I’ll step up if a noble steps forward. If they are non-persons you or Fred.”
“Weird.”
“Yet Derek feels right at home here,” Jeff observed. “I wonder how the locals feel about goats?”
“It’s a cart, a mule, and some people on foot,” Fred mused. “Can’t get any numbers or details because of the trees. Don’t the locals understand straight roads?”
“Maybe next time we’ll end up in a Roman place,” Jeff suggested.
“We can’t,” Derek shook his head. “Remember what’s-her-face in the Prison? It was the Romans who started the banishing with their straight lines and organization.”
“We’re not going to another sphere,” Shad said firmly. “This is the last hurrah, assuming we get out alive. But the Jews pre-date the Romans, and she blamed the Jewish and Christian faiths the most.”
“True, but the Romans hated magic,” Jeff pointed out. “Look what they did to the Druids.”
“Those people aren’t Human,” Shad announced as the Black Talons reached the edge of the clearing, unfastening his cloak and tossing it atop Ula’s load. The others followed suit as the group escorting the mule-drawn cart slowed to a stop.
“Damn,” Derek breathed. “Those are…”
“Orcs,” Jeff finished for him as the Shop teacher strung his recurve bow.
The Orcs were strangely uniform in appearance, as if closely related or stamped from a mold. They were large, the shortest being six feet tall, broad shouldered and heavy-boned with massive muscle structure, standing hunched, heads thrust forward, their entire person radiating impending violence. Their skin was gray, faintly wrinkled, and coarse; their eyes were soul-less yellow orbs sunk deeply beneath jutting brows. Their noses were mashed into their faces as if each had had to be dragged into the world by brute force, and their mouths were lipless slashes that were twisted into perpetual grimaces.
They wore crude garments of fur and leather liberally decorated with teeth, claws, animal horn and bones. They were armed with carved clubs augmented by spikes of rusting metal, broad
stone knives, and spears tipped with vicious shards of black flint.
“Flame Hound over-tribe,” The Shop teacher observed thoughtfully.
“Somehow they look a lot worse than the pictures and movies suggest,” Shad admitted. “I count seven, no missile weapons. Who is going to talk?”
The Orcs appeared to be puzzled by the appearance of the four Humans; they were fingering their weapons and looking to their leader. After a brief hesitation an Orc wearing the wings of a raven on a thin leather cap brusquely waved the Talons to stand aside.
“Wait, they have kids!” Derek burst out, pointing to four pre-teens leashed together at the neck, the rope fastened to the cart. “We need to rescue them.”
“Well, hell,” Shad sighed. “We don’t need a fight here.” He eyed the children, then glanced at a village a half-mile down the road. “Something isn’t right.”
“We can sort it out later,” Derek fingered the hilt of his katana.
“He’s gonna start it no matter what we say,” Jeff shrugged.
Shad untied his hat’s chin strap. “Is there any point in trying to talk our way past this?”
“Nah,” Fred grunted slapping disks against each of his fellows in turn, the wood crumbling to dust on contact. The Orcs shifted their stances at the Talons’ preparations.
“OK, then,” Shad ran a finger across his harness. “On me.” Stepping forward he made a throwing gesture and a ball of black and silver energy flashed from his fingertips to soundlessly erupt amongst the Orcs, tendrils of power striking three of them, burning terrible wounds into their coarse hides.
Derek was moving even as Shad made the gesture; while class knowledge didn’t cross over from sphere to sphere, some instincts remained, especially given that he had spent over a cumulative year as a real magic-user. His flowing robes were very practical he discovered as he drew his katana, flowing around him as he moved and his wooden geta sandals were surprisingly sure-footed in the snow.
The Orcs did not appear to be overly surprised and not at all dismayed at the colored lighting that had flashed within their untidy ranks, and a flint-tipped spear thrust at the Ronin’s belly with homicidal intent. Derek twisted lithely to the side so that the black flint point slid past, and struck the wielder’s left hand at the wrist, leaving it hanging by tendons.