Critical Failures IV

by Robert Bevan

  “It’s okay, Waddles,” said Randy. “You ain’t got to be afraid.”

  Waddles scooted forward, heavy breaths whistling through his broken nose.

  Randy placed both hands atop Waddles’s hot, sweaty head and closed his eyes. “In Jesus Christ’s name, I heal you.”

  Again, Randy felt the same warmth flow from his heart, down his arms, and through his hands. Waddles’s nasal whistle grew louder and shriller, like a boiling kettle, until it stopped suddenly. Worried that he’d accidentally killed Waddles, Randy opened his eyes.

  Waddles was very much alive. His breathing had silenced because his nose was whole again and the air was flowing freely. Tears in his eyes, he took several more deep, silent breaths, just to demonstrate that he could.

  “Waddles!” said Barton.

  Waddles stood up and glared at him. “My name is Wettle.”

  The rest of the inmates murmured among themselves.

  “Did you see that?”

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “Could it be true?”

  “Heal me!” cried the half-elf with the broken leg, which had turned a nasty shade of purple by this point. He tried to stand on his good leg, but fell over onto the bad one. “Yeeowwww!”

  Randy stood up. “Hang on, man. I’ll come over there to you.” He looked at his hands doubtfully. “I’m only first level, and I don’t know how much of this healin’ juice I got in me. But I’ll do my best.”

  He walked over to where the half-elf was writhing and wincing on the floor, knelt down next to him, and laid a hand on his cheek. “In Jesus Christ’s name, I heal you.”

  The half-elf winced even harder as his bones shifted beneath his skin, but then a wave of calm washed over his face as the purple faded from his shin. He hopped to his feet and started dancing, then stopped to grab Randy’s hand and kiss it.

  “It’s a miracle,” said Barton. “I’ve seen real, faithful clerics study for months and not be able to elicit this much healing power from their gods. The New God has only existed for one day.”

  Randy went on to heal everyone else in the cell, even those with only minor scratches or abrasions, each time being certain that he must be getting close to depleting his daily allotment of healing.

  When it was done, Randy had been hugged, kissed, squeezed, and shaken more than he’d been in his whole life prior to this.

  Barton knelt before him. “I humbly beg you accept my apology, Sir Randy. You have given us so much this day. How may we serve you?”

  Exhaustion had caught up with Randy. “I just want to go to sleep for a little while.”

  Barton ripped off his shirt, displaying a nice, smooth chest and a satisfactory set of abs.

  “I appreciate the gesture,” said Randy. “But I weren’t kidding. I’m seriously tired right now. I ain’t slept all night.”

  Barton bundled his shirt into a ball. “Lay your head on this, Sir Randy.” He placed the balled-up shirt on the wooden bench. “I would be honored to bring you whatever meager comfort I can. I shall stand watch and make sure no harm befalls you while you rest.”

  “As will I,” said the half-elf.

  “And me,” said the halfling.

  “You can count on me,” said Wettle.

  One by one, all of the other inmates stood in a semicircle, shielding Randy from whatever unlikely evil might befall him here in this locked cell. It was a nice gesture at any rate.

  Randy lay on the bench, his mind racing with wonder. Had it really been a miracle? How was he healing so much? Was the real Jesus acting through him? It was too much, and he briefly worried that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. That worry sorted itself out in a matter of minutes when sleep descended on him like a summer storm.

  Chapter 27

  “Stupid Tim and his stupid alcoholism.” Cooper plodded further southward, grumbling about how stupid everyone was for splitting the party.

  “Stupid Julian and his stupid bird.”

  “Stupid Dave and his stupid… uh… general suckiness.”

  “Stupid bard guy and his stupid name that I can never remember.”

  “Stupid Katherine and her awesome vampire tits.”

  Cooper was supposed to be the stupid one. So why wasn’t he the one wandering around aimlessly in the wilderness while everyone else searched for him? Why was he the only one who seemed to be thinking beyond the next –

  He’d made it to the crossroads. On one side of him, a smaller road broke off to the east. On the other side, a small footpath led into the forest which he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t stopped to look around. And, of course, the main road continued heading south.

  Cooper tried to think back on the directions Captain Pisspot had given them.

  “Poortown to the south, and Schoolhouse Rock to the east,” he said to himself. “Wait, no. That’s not right. Lighthouse Rock. That’s it.”

  He thought for a moment, trying to reason out which road would more likely lead him to his friends.

  “Lighthouses are near water, which might explain the fishing lures. Poortown sounds like it sucks. Probably some third-world shithole. Fuck that. East it is.”

  The forest grew closer to the eastbound road than it did to the main road. Anything could jump out from the trees at any moment. A lone traveler would be wise to have his weapon out, clearly visible and ready to use.

  Cooper’s axe remained firmly strapped to his back. He wantedsomething to jump out at him, just so he could beat the shit out of it. He’d resort to his axe if it was necessary, but he was in more of a punching mood. A bear would be good. Or a crocodile. He could rage out and swing it around his head by the tail. That would be fun.

  Or better yet, a whole horde of kobolds. He could punch those little fuckers left and right until they were piled up on either side of the road.

  But there was nothing. No bears, no crocodiles, no kobolds. Nothing. Cooper was alone with his thoughts, and those made for some pretty shitty company.

  He thought about how much traveling his C&C characters had done over the years. He would state that he wanted to travel to Bumblefuck, Wherever, and the Cavern Master would roll some dice behind the screen and say something like “You arrive just before nightfall.” He’d never considered how fucking boring it must have been for them.

  Jerking off was always a time-honored means of killing time. He’d even excused himself once in the middle of combat to go rub one out in the bathroom because Dave was playing a wizard and couldn’t keep track of what all his spells did. Sure enough, when Cooper returned to the table, it was still Dave’s fucking turn.

  That wasn’t really an option here though, as stopping to wank would defeat the whole purpose of wanking by making the journey exactly that much longer.

  Could he walk and jerk off at the same time? He doubted it. Honestly, was any man that talented? To put himself in the proper frame of mind, he would have to think up a scenario in which he was having sex while walking.

  He was at an airport, and it was on fire. Flames raged at either end of the moving walkway, trapping him and that smoking hot Indian girl who works at the Taco Bell on Highway 90, forcing them to keep walking in the opposite direction until the firefighters rescued them. And she wanted his cock in the baddest way.

  Cooper reached under his loincloth. Not even a semi. This was too fucking stupid.

  He was on a treadmill, and the smoking hot Indian girl who works at the Taco Bell on Highway 90 was his personal trainer. As an incentive for him to keep moving, she…

  No. That was even worse.

  He and the smoking hot Indian girl who works at the Taco Bell on Highway 90 were running away from a particularly swift-moving glacier, but they couldn’t run away from their passion.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh, thank fuck. There’s the lighthouse.”

  Lighthouse Rock, the top of which now visible above the treeline on the side of the southward-curving road, was pretty much as advertised. It was a lighthouse buil
t atop a big-ass rock that Cooper hoped he wouldn’t have to climb. After another mile of walking, the trees thinned out and the road straightened, revealing a tiny village at the base of the rock. So tiny, in fact, that Cooper could only make out one small cottage. If his friends were here, they should be easy enough to find.

  Smoke from a wood fire mingled with salty sea air to form a smell that Cooper found quite pleasant. Approaching the cottage, he also smelled grilled fish and suddenly realized how hungry he was.

  “Hello?” he called out before getting too close. Given his appearance, it wasn’t a stretch to think that someone might mistake him for a marauder and shoot him on sight.

  “Come around back!” an old man’s voice responded.

  Cooper circled wide around the left side of the cottage, taking in the waterfront view. The sea was vast, with only a single island visible to the south. He could just make out a lighthouse at the top of that one as well.

  While the cottage was modest, the pier stretching out toward the island was anything but. The wood used to build that could have been used to build a house ten times the size of this old shack. It looked even more impressive when compared to the tiny rowboat tied to the end, bobbing up and down on the waves.

  “Don’t get many travelers ‘round this way,” said the old man. “You hungry, big feller?”

  Cooper turned around. An old gnome wearing a set of grey overalls and a fisherman’s cap was standing behind a grill, flipping a fish with a set of wooden tongs.

  “I’m fucking starving,” said Cooper.

  “Well come on over and have a seat. The fish won’t take long.”

  A weathered wooden table sat on short legs, only six inches off the ground. Cooper sat next to it in the grass.

  “Do you live here?”

  “Aye,” said the gnome. “My name’s Waldo. I’m the lighthouse keeper.”

  Cooper looked around. There was no sign of anyone else. “All alone? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

  Waldo brought over a smoking, sizzling fat fish and set it on the table. “I’ve outlived a wife and two sons. When the gods see fit to take me, I’ll be ready.”

  Cooper leaned over and blew on the fish, showering it with as much spit as cool air. He looked up at Waldo, who was raising his fluffy white eyebrows at him. “I’m sorry. This is your lunch. You go first.”

  “You go on and help yourself. I’ll grill up some more.”

  Having been as polite as he was capable of, Cooper shrugged, picked up the fish by the tail, and tore the front half off with his teeth.

  “You weren’t joking about being hungry, were you? I’d better throw on a few more.”

  Waldo walked over to what appeared to be a wishing well built of cobblestones and mortar. At two feet high, it came up to his chest. He placed a foot on a protruding stone near the bottom, then hoisted himself over the rim and jumped in.

  “What the fuck?” said Cooper.

  Waldo splashed, but didn’t sink. It wasn’t a well after all. Just a shallow pool. He bent over, waited, and then struck down suddenly with both hands. When he stood again, he had a fish in his hands at least as big as the one Cooper was eating. He threw it out of the pool to flop around on the ground. Twice more, he did the same thing. Satisfied, he climbed out of the pool and tossed all three fish onto the grill, where they spent the remainder of their short lives flopping wildly until they succumbed to smoke and flame.

  “Thank you for the fish,” said Cooper, hoping he wasn’t putting this old guy out too much.

  Waldo adjusted some of the wood under the grill with his tongs. “Think nothing of it. It pleases me to have company other than soldiers and prisoners.”

  “Prisoners?”

  “The royal navy uses the cell carved into the bottom of the rock to hold captive pirates, brigands, and whatever riff-raff they pick up at sea, until they can be picked up by soldiers from the city. I keep them fed. Every now and again I get some folks to share their tales, but most of them are too preoccupied with their impending execution to be interested in talking.Just had three in here this morning. The half-drow was a nice enough feller, as far as their kind goes.”

  Cooper felt he’d reached another dead end. “So I don’t guess you’ve seen any other travelers come this way? A couple of elves, a dwarf, a human bard? Maybe they might have had some fishing gear?”

  Waldo shook his head. “No. No one like that. Just soldiers and prisoners.”

  “Shit.” Cooper nibbled at what remained of his fish. All he could do now was check out Poortown.

  The island in the distance caught his eye. As long as he was here, he supposed it was worth asking about.

  “What’s that island over there?”

  Waldo turned around and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun. “That’s the first of the Barrier Islands. They separate the Great Sea from the Bay of Meb’ Garshur. There’s eight of them in all, between here and Port City.”

  Cooper’s head jerked up. “Port City?” That sounded like a place where people might do some fishing. He looked at the island again. He’d have to go that distance eight times. “Fuck, that’s going to be a hell of a swim.”

  “Speak not such nonsense!” said Waldo. “Use my boat.”

  Cooper had already imposed enough on this lonely old man. Taking his boat was too much. “I couldn’t.”

  “You seem a strong young lad, both in body and spirit. But that’s far too great a distance to swim. By the gods, it’s farther than I’d ever want to row even. Since the royal navy built that pier, I do most of my fishing from there. I have little use for that old boat these days.”

  Cooper dug through his bag, scraping together the last of his money. He laid five gold coins down on the table. “At least let me pay you for it.”

  Waldo smiled, then pushed four of the coins back toward Cooper. “You overestimate the value of such a modest vessel. I’ll keep one coin to ease your conscience, and return it when you bring my boat back to me.”

  “You’re a hell of a guy, Waldo.”

  “There’s just one more thing,” said Waldo. “Now don’t you go anywhere just yet.” He hurried into the back door of his cottage.

  Shit. He was probably getting some lube. No such thing as a free lunch. Cooper had maxed out his Swim skill, being one of the few that was based on Strength. He looked back at the island. It didn’t seem quite as far away now that he thought about having to jerk off a geriatric gnome for a boat.

  Waldo returned with a large roll of paper. The nice kind that Julian sometimes wrote magic spells on. He unrolled it on the table. It was blank, not that Cooper would have been able to read it anyway.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  “All that rowing is bound to build up an appetite,” said Waldo, heading back to the grill. With his wooden tongs, he grabbed each of the three fish, and placed them one by one onto the paper, which he then rolled up.

  “You’ve been generous enough,” said Cooper. “This is too much.”

  “There are plenty of fish in the sea, friend. Too few decent folk.”

  “In the sea?”

  Waldo furrowed his brow. “In the world.”

  Cooper decided it would be best if he stopped talking now. He shoved the wrapped-up fish into his sack and walked down to the pier alongside Waldo. “I’m sorry to eat and run like this, but I have to find my friends.”

  “Think not of it,” said Waldo. “Safe travels, and may the gods watch over you on your quest.”

  Cooper climbed down the ladder and into the little boat. It was probably big enough for Waldo and a good-sized catch, but Cooper felt like he was sitting in a toy. The oars felt like oversized spoons in his hands. But to its credit, the boat held his weight.

  Once Cooper was settled, Waldo untied the rope and tossed it down into the boat at Cooper’s feet.

  After a final thank you, Cooper took a deep breath, then started rowing toward the first of the Barrier Islands.

  Chapter 28


  “We’ve been walking forever,” said Chaz. “I don’t even think we’re heading toward the city anymore.”

  Tanner continued forward, almost silently, at his brisk pace. “Stop your whining. We’re almost there.”

  “Almost where? We’re in the middle of the fucking woods, and it’s getting dark.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m half-drow. I can see perfectly in all but total darkness.”

  Chaz stopped walking. “Well I’m human, and I can’t see shit. Hold up. I’m going to light a torch.” He was digging through his bag for his flint and steel when Tanner’s charcoal grey face got right up in his own.

  “Are you out of your mind? An open flame in a dark forest? Are you so desperate to be eaten by monsters? Why not strip down and slather yourself in honey while you’re at it?”

  Chaz was tired, his legs ached, and he was starting to get a little scared. He didn’t care how whiny he sounded. “If we’d just gone in through the gate, we could have –”

  Tanner swiped the torch out of his hand and bonked him over the head with the soft top of it. “Are you finished?”

  Chaz pushed out his lower lip and nodded his head.

  “Very good.” Tanner handed the torch back to Chaz. “Now follow me, and for the grace of the gods keep your mouth shut.”

  Chaz did his best to keep up, though he could barely see or hear which way Tanner was going. He tripped over roots and got slapped in the face by branches and spider webs until he almost tackled Tanner, who had stopped for no discernible reason.

  Tanner smiled at Chaz. At this point, he was pretty much all eyes and teeth.“We’re here.”

  Surely he didn’t meantheir final destination. This place didn’t look any different than the rest of the forest, save for a large flat rock on the ground which Chaz found to be a very inviting place to sit down.

  “So what are we doing?” asked Chaz. “Taking a break?”

  “I’d like to get us out of the dangerous forest,” said Tanner. “As soon as you kindly remove your ass from the hatch.”

  “Huh?” Chaz stood up. “Hatch?”