Critical Failures IV

by Robert Bevan

  “Excuse me. I was wondering if –”

  “AAAAAHHHHHHH!” screamed a black female elf, completely naked and bent over a modest wooden bed. Her small, jet black breasts bouncing in rhythm as her man took her from behind.

  “What? Who?” The male elf took a little longer to come to grips with what was happening.

  “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Katherine slammed the door shut.

  “You there!” shouted the male. “Stay where you are!” He sounded pissed.

  “It’s cool,” said Katherine. “Take your time.” As long as she’d been stuck in this world, Katherine had never seen a black elf. She’d seen elves with different skin tones, but none were jet black like these, and here there were three of them. She wondered if she was in one of those neighborhoods.

  The door swung open. The male elf stepped out, his white hair sweaty and sticking to his skin.

  “Who are you? How did you get here?” He had thrown on a blue silk robe, but he was still pitching a pretty good sized tent.

  “I’m really sorry,” said Katherine. “I should have knocked. If you two want to, like, finish up or whatever, I can wait down the hall.”

  “Quiet, mongrel!”

  “Whoa! Not cool, man. Look, if you could just tell me what time of day it is, and how to get out of here, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  The female elf stepped out in an identical robe to her man’s, which Katherine found kind of tacky, but a little bit adorable.

  “Who is she? What does she want?”

  The male elf sneered at Katherine. “She claims to have trespassed into our lair simply to ask the time.”

  “Actually, that’s not what –”

  “Quiet, mongrel!” said the female.

  “Come on, guys. Cool it with the mongrel, huh? That’s kind of frowned upon where I come from.”

  The female elf looked Katherine up and down. “You are not drow.”

  “No, I’m Katherine. Were you guys expecting a third party? ‘Cause, you know, that’s cool.”

  “How is it that you can see with no source of light?”

  The male elf laughed. “Six of her fathers were probably dwarves.”

  Katherine got up in his face. “What the fuck is your problem, man? I haven’t said anything about you being black, have I?” She gasped. “Oh shit, I just did. I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

  “Put her in the cell,” said the female elf.“We’ll see how coy she acts after she talks to The Extractor.”

  The male elf grabbed Katherine’s wrist and started walking. She walked with him, thinking about how easily she’d taken out the last black elf who’d grabbed her wrist.

  Katherine had no doubt she could take these two elves down just as easily, but she didn’t want to kill anyone she didn’t have to. She could run away, but she didn’t know where the exit was, and if it was still daytime outside, she could be stuck down here for hours with legions of these people trying to hunt her down. It was less trouble to just comply. A little guided tour on the way to the cell might even give her a better layout of the lair.

  No such luck. The walk to the cell was a short one. It was just another little room along the hallway opposite the door to the room where these two had just been fucking. The cell door was just like the others, with the exceptions of having a small, barred window and iron braces mounted for a crossbeam.

  The female elf opened the door, and the male shoved Katherine into the cell. He then struggled to pick up the thick oaken crossbeam, which was leaning against the interior wall.

  The cell was sparsely furnished, the only amenities being a hole in the floor to shit in, and the saddest excuse for a bed Katherine had ever seen. It wasn’t at all like the bed the two elves had been fucking on. This one was more like just a frame of scrap lumber containing a hole-ridden cloth sack full of straw, with a ratty grey blanket thrown on top. The walls were the same rusty orange as the first room she’d come from, only with a thicker, blacker coating of mildew.

  The door slammed shut behind her. She turned around, put her hands on her hips and watched the two elves through the window as they hefted the crossbeam into place.

  “I don’t suppose either of you would be willing to tell me the time.”

  The female elf was breathing hard. That crossbeam was a sturdy chunk of wood. She shook her head and smiled mock-sympathetically.

  “Your time is up, mongrel. Whatever appointment you’re in such a hurry to get to, you aren’t going to make it.”

  Chapter 26

  The royal palace was easy enough to find. The central tower was tall enough to be seen silhouetted against the sky even as far away as the Whore’s Head Inn. Up close, the white stone of the tower sparkled with flecks of some blue mineral which dazzlingly reflected the sunlight.

  The walls surrounding the royal palace, which Randy now stood outside of, were decidedly less dazzling. They were half again as tall as the outer city walls. The top five feet of them looked to have been added on later. The brickwork was different, darker, with rusted swords and barbed spearheads poking out at downward angles through the mortar. Anyone trying to scale this wall had better be packing a pair of Kevlar gloves.

  Randy made his way counter-clockwise around the perimeter of the wall until he came to a gate. The two guards at either side of the gate stood at attention, their spears and shields held as straight as their spines. They appeared to take their jobs a lot more seriously than the guards along the outer city wall did. A human on the left and a half-orc on the right, they eyed Randy stoically as he approached.

  Randy attempted to hide his nervousness with a cheery smile. “Good morning.”

  “State your name and business,” said the human guard.

  “My name’s Randy Perkins,” said Randy. “I’m um... I’m currently unemployed.”

  The guard closed his eyes and breathed deeply, like he was having one of those mornings. When he spoke again, it was slow and deliberate, like he was talking to a child. “Please tell me the purpose of your visit to the palace.”

  “I’m here to see the king.”

  “Oh, is that all? Then by all means, go on through.”

  Randy smiled. “Well thank you very much.” As soon as he took a step forward, the two guards’ spears formed a large X blocking his way.

  “I was joking,” said the guard.

  Randy didn’t know what to say. He put his palms up. “You sure got me good.”

  “What business do you have with His Majesty?”

  “He requested I come here, on account of I’m a pal...” Randy’s mind was drawing a blank. What was that word? “Palindrome? Platypus? Pallywog?”

  The two guards looked at one another. The half-orc mouthed the word pallywog.

  “You are a paladin of the New God?” said the human guard, cutting off Randy’s train of thought.

  “That’s right!” said Randy excitedly. “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  Randy noticed that the spears had not been taken back. “So... Can I go in and see the king now?”

  “Describe him,” said the guard.

  “The king?”

  “The New God.”

  “All right,” said Randy. He thought for a moment. “He’s nice. And gentle. And, um...”

  “What does he look like?” The guard’s voice was showing signs of impatience.

  “Look like?”

  “Surely, if you’ve devoted your life to this New God, you must have seen him.”

  “I ain’t seen him face to face, but I seen plenty of paintings and statues and such.”

  “Statues?” the half-orc guard finally spoke. “The New God has only existed for a day. What sculptor dare attempt to chisel out the likeness of a god in such little time?”

  “Please, tell us then,” said the human guard. “What does the New God look like, based on these paintings and statues?”

  Randy thought hard to pick out what all the different pictures of Jesus he’d seen
in his life had in common. “Well, he’s a skinny feller, with light brown hair, a little long in the back, and a nice full beard.” The guards looked at each other. Randy was losing them. “Let’s see, what else? He’s got shiny blue eyes and he wears this blue toga thing, and –”

  Both guards broke out in laughter.

  “Please,” said the human guard when he caught his breath. “Stop, just stop. I can’t take anymore.”

  Now Randy was the one getting impatient. “What is y’all two laughing about?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” said the half-orc. “This is one of the saddest displays I’ve ever seen. Blue toga!” He started laughing even harder.

  The human guard was laughing so hard he had to use his spear to remain standing up. “This is...” He caught his breath. “This is even worse than the description that crazy old lizardman gave us.”

  Randy put his hands on his hips. “Is y’all gonna let me in or not?”

  “Of course,” said the human guard. “Far be it from us to deny His Majesty counsel on matters of such consequence.” He called into the gateway. “Open the gate, Henry!”

  “Well that’s more like it,” said Randy. “Thank you very much.”

  “Borgarth, relieve the heretic of his weapon and throw him in with the others.”

  “Heretic?” cried Randy. “Others?” Before he knew what was happening, the half-orc guard was upon him, starting to unbuckle his scabbard. Randy tried to struggle free, but the guard’s hands were strong. “You get your hands off me this instant!”

  The half-orc, Borgarth, place a firm hand on Randy’s shoulder, instantly suppressing the struggle, and looked him in the eye. “Are you going to be a good little prisoner and come quietly, or are you going to make me really enjoy my job?”

  Randy had had the shit beaten out of him enough times to be able to catch his meaning. He lowered his head. “I’ll be good.”

  The open gate revealed a beautiful, meticulously maintained garden leading toward the palace proper. Randy considered making a run for it, but had a feeling that Borgarth was hoping he would do just that.

  “Should I alert Sergeant Moore to identify the prisoner?” asked Borgarth.

  “Is that the big colored feller?” asked Randy. “Run and fetch him. He’ll tell you I ain’t no heretic.”

  The human guard laughed. “I wouldn’t bother with this one. Not after the toga thing.”

  “You don’t understand,” Randy pleaded. “I need to see the king.”

  “You’ll see him soon enough,” said the human guard. “Before your trial, you will be given the opportunity to confess your heresy and beg for a swift execution.”

  Randy swallowed hard. “Well that’s... generous.”

  “Come on,” said Borgarth, jerking Randy forward by the back of the neck.

  Randy allowed himself to be guided around the back of the palace, down a stone stairway, and through a sturdy iron door.

  The interior was more brightly lit than what Randy had expected for a dungeon. Being on palace grounds, prisoners here were not simply locked away and abandoned. Two guards, a dwarf and a human, stood at attention as Randy and Borgarth approached a barred cell door.

  “Brought us another cleric of the New God, have you, Borgarth?” said the human.

  Borgarth snorted. “Show some respect, Mayfield. This one’s a paladin.”

  The dwarf shook his head. “Aye, it’s times like these when the crazies really start to come out of the stonework.”

  “Hammerford,” said Mayfield. “Open the door, and allow our new guest to join his brothers of the faith.”

  The dwarf, Hammerford, took a ring of steel keys off a peg mounted on the wall. “Come on, sir paladin. In you go.” He turned the key and started to open the barred door.

  “NOW!” cried one of the inmates from within the cell.

  A crowd of prisoners flooded out of the cell at once, knocking Hammerford backwards. Borgarth and Mayfield looked at one another and shook their heads.

  Borgarth shoved Randy aside, set his spear against the wall, grinned, and cracked his knuckles as the prisoners tried to rush him.

  The first was a fat human man, not too far removed from Randy’s true-form physique. Borgarth got down on one knee to give him a good solid punch in the gut. The wave of fat rippled out from the epicenter of the punch, causing waves to ripple across his fat face. The prisoner dropped to his knees and fell flat on his face.

  Next in line was a halfling who almost managed to sneak past Borgarth under the cover of shadow. But the big half-orc caught the tiny halfling by the arm, picked him up, and hurled him like a sack of oranges at another human prisoner, fitter than the first, but not so fit as to be able to shake off the force of a thrown halfling. They both collapsed to the floor and did not try to stand again.

  Finally, a wild-eyed, wrinkled lizardman ran at Borgarth, snapping his teeth and thrashing at the air with his clawed fingers.

  Randy backed up against the wall. The human guard from outside had mentioned a crazy old lizardman, but to see him up close, in the scaly flesh, was something he hadn't adequately prepared himself for.

  Planting his right fist in his left palm, Borgarth braced himself, then elbowed the lizardman in the side of the head as soon as he got close enough. The poor old reptile spat out teeth as his forked tongue flapped from his mouth until his head slammed against the wall. He was out cold.

  Borgarth grinned at Randy. “Prison breaks truly are my favorite part of the job.”

  Randy surveyed the carnage. At least an equal number of prisoners had tried to escape the other way, and were dealt with in similar fashion by Mayfield and Hammorford.

  Those prisoners who were conscious and able to walk grudgingly filed back into the cell. The three guards dragged the rest in by their arms, legs, or in the case of the lizardman, his tail.

  “Are you waiting for an invitation?” Mayfield asked Randy. “Or do you also require assistance?”

  Randy shook his head and hurriedly followed the fresh blood smear trails into the cell. The door slammed shut behind him.

  Mayfield and Hammerford bade farewell to Borgarth, then sat down to continue a card game which had apparently been interrupted by Randy’s arrival.

  Inside the cell, Randy couldn’t hear himself think over the moans and wails of the injured prisoners.

  “Send for a healer!” cried a half-elf who had been stopped by Mayfield and Hammerford. “You brutes broke my leg!” He winced as he touched his broken shin.

  “And my nose!” honked the fat human, tears running down the sides of his blubbery face.

  “You’re a bunch of clerics and paladins, aren’t you?” said Mayfield. “Heal yourselves.” He reached for a box on a shelf above their card table.

  The fit human and the halfling who had been thrown at him grabbed the bars of the cell door and started shaking it. “No!” cried the human. “Not the stone!”

  Randy’s heartbeat quickened as the Mayfield ignored their protests, pulling a small, round stone out of the box. He braced himself for whatever was about to happen next.

  Mayfield placed the stone on the table, and he and Hammerford continued their card game in silence. Randy found that very underwhelming.

  The human continued to shake the cell door, but the halfling gave it up, a disgusted look on his face when he turned around.

  “What’s with the rock?” asked Randy.

  “It’s a Silence Stone,” said the halfling. “We can wail in agony all we like, and those two bastards won’t be bothered in the least. They can’t hear us.”

  “Can you, you sons of whores!” shouted the man shaking the door.

  “Barton!” shouted the halfling. “That’s enough already! It’s noisy enough in here as it is.”

  Finally, Barton succumbed to the futility of his action and gave up shaking the door.

  The halfling covered his ears, trying to drown out the wailing and crying of his fellow inmates. “This will be the only sounds
we hear until the sweet release of the king’s justice.”

  Randy sat down on a hard, splintery unfinished wooden bench. “Why did y’all lie about being clerics for Jesus?”

  “You’re going to preach us a sermon, paladin? You’re as guilty as the rest of us.”

  “No I ain’t.”

  Barton grinned. “You can cut the act, Pally. You’ve got nothing to gain by earning the trust of we fellow charlatans.”

  “I’m telling you, I ain’t no fellow charlatan!”

  “I believe you,” wheezed the fat man through his broken nose.

  “You’ve believed every one of us, Waddles,” said Barton. He turned to Randy. “He’s not even in here for heresy. He’s here by choice. He demanded to be brought in, so that the representative of the New God should not suffer alone.”

  The fat man, who may or may not have actually been named ‘Waddles’, knelt before Randy. “If it please the New God, I beg for you to lay your hands on me.”

  “Right here in front of all these people?” Randy had sympathy for this poor bastard. Lord knows he’d traveled down that lonely road enough times himself. “There’s actually some debate where I’m from whether that pleases the New God or not.”

  Barton laughed. “You are, without a doubt, the most profoundly sad excuse for a phony disciple I’ve ever seen.”

  Randy glared at him in frustration.

  “He wants you to heal him,” explained Barton. “Fix his flattened nose.”

  “Oh,” said Randy. He smiled at Waddles. “In that case, I’d be happy to.”

  Barton rubbed his hands together. “Fantastic.” He stood up and addressed the other inmates. “Behold, fellow clerics of the New God! Bear witness to his great healing power, flowing through the righteous hands of our new paladin brother... I’m sorry. What was your name?”

  “Randy,” said Randy.

  “Randy!”

  All eyes in the cell were on him. Some were curious. Others embarrassed. A few just because there was little else of interest going on in the cell.