by Robert Bevan
Tim unwrapped his sandwiches and removed the top buns. “I notice you kidnapped yourself a staff.” He gave each sandwich a generous squirt of Arby’s sauce, careful not to let any of it near his curly fries. Whatever cockroach shit or dire rat hairs they might have touched on the floor, he’d be damned if they’d be sullied by sauce.
“Kidnap is a strong word,” said the professor. “I merely borrowed them against their will.”
Tim spoke through a mouthful of roast beef sandwich. “That’s kind of the textbook definition.”
“I’m going to compensate them for their time and service,” said Goosewaddle defensively. “I just need them to train a goblin staff.” He leaned over the table and grinned. “Goblins will work for next to nothing.”
“Sounds like you’ve learned the ins and outs of the fast food industry pretty well.”
“I have learned much. Your world is a strange and fascinating place. I have seen – Oh dear. Just a moment.” He reached down, then produced a sleek, black shiny rectangle.
Tim nearly choked on a curly fry. “Is that a fucking smart phone?”
Professor Goosewaddle pursed his lips as he looked at the screen. “A message from the king.”
“Wait,” said Tim. “Did you just get a fucking text?”
Goosewaddle climbed onto the table and stood up. “If I can have everyone’s attention.”
The din inside the restaurant calmed down. “The restaurant is closed for the rest of the day.”
The din returned, only now it was louder and decidedly more grumbly.
Goosewaddle raised both hands over his head, each engulfed in a raging blue ball of fire. That shut everyone up. “It is the king’s decree that you must all return to your homes immediately. A city-wide state of emergency has been declared.”
That didn’t sound good. Tim washed down a mouthful of curly fries with stonepiss. He didn’t know if the citizens were reacting to the king’s authority or Goosewaddle’s, but everyone cleared out of the restaurant like cockroaches when the light goes on.
“Paul! Jennifer!” shouted Goosewaddle.
The clang of a pan against the floor rang out from Goosewaddle’s workshop, quickly followed by Jennifer. She and Paul stood at panicked attention.
“Yes, Professor,” they said in unison.
“I need twenty roast beef sandwiches and as many curly fries as you can fry in the meantime. These are for the king, so make them presentable.”
Without a word, Paul and Jennifer retreated into the workshop.
Goosewaddle slumped down into the booth, idly picked up one of Tim’s mozzarella sticks, pulled a hair off of it, and put it in his mouth.
“What’s going on?” asked Tim. “And since when are you so close to the king?”
“I told you,” said Goosewaddle. “I have learned much in your world. I was able to share valuable information with His Majesty about the New God.”
Tim laughed. “You mean Jesus?”
“The same.”
“What valuable information could you possibly have given the king about Jesus?”
“On one of my journeys, I was invited to attend a ritual at the house of the New God.”
“Is that right?” said Tim. He was giggling on the inside. “What did you think?”
“Honestly? As far as divine worship rituals go, I found it a bit dull.”
“You’re telling me. Imagine trying to sit through that shit when you’re six.”
Goosewaddle stroked his beard. “There was a lot of sitting, yes. And standing. The kneeling was the worst. It was hard on my old knees, and I couldn’t see anything.”
“This is fantastic. Keep going.”
“Some passages were read from some sacred text, then the High Cleric spoke candidly to the congregation about his interpretation of those passages. It was a little difficult to follow. He attempted to liven things up with humor, but he was no bard.”
“Were you dressed like that?”
Goosewaddle ignored the question, his mind focused on his recollection. “I started to nod off, and was about to make for an exit, but temple enforcers were patrolling the aisles, passing baskets from one aisle to the next, in which the worshippers would put coins or folded pieces of paper. All I had to offer was two cockatrice feathers, so I put those in.”
“I’m sure they were appreciated.”
“Indeed. Cockatrice feathers are rare and valuable.”
“I’ll bet,” said Tim. “So what happened next?”
“Something very peculiar,” said Professor Goosewaddle. “The entire congregation stood up at once and began grappling each other by the hand, but wishing peace upon them.”
Tim was really enjoying this. “It would have been worth sitting through this just to watch your reaction.”
Goosewaddle rubbed his little hands together. “I haven’t gotten to the best part. While I was still contemplating the ritualistic grappling, people started forming lines to ingest the flesh and blood of the New God.”
“They did not!”
“They did!”
Tim looked at the restaurant door, then at the doorway leading to Goosewaddle’s workshop, where Paul and Jennifer were busily making the king’s sandwiches and curly fries and having an argument in hushed tones, then finally across the table at Professor Goosewaddle himself. “Did youingest the flesh and blood of the New God?”
“I didn’t want to at first, but the people I was sitting next to urged me forward. As I stood in line, I watched other people eat the tiny discs of god-flesh. Everyone seemed very calm about it, so I figured ‘How often do you get the chance to eat a god?’. Truth be told, it wasn’t as horrifying as it sounds.”
“You don’t say,”said Tim. “Tell me. What does a god taste like?”
Professor Goosewaddle’s eyes lit up. “Ah! This is the sort of valuable information I was able to pass along to the king, and what led me to recognize the New God later when I saw him on the magic screen box.”
“Hold on,” said Tim. “You’re starting to lose me. What is it, exactly, that you learned?”
Goosewaddle looked left and right, then leaned across the table and whispered, “The New God’s flesh is made of bread.”
That should have been hilarious, but Tim was starting to feel the latent pangs of Catholic guilt.
“And his blood,” said the professor. “His blood was infused with enough spirit to kill a dwarf.”
Tim felt an uncomfortable sense of embarrassment, like when that one kid still believes in Santa Claus years after everyone else in the class found their toys hidden in the garage, and it’s so sad, even the bullies won’t make fun of him. He didn’t know whether he felt more embarrassed for Professor Goosewaddle, the king, or the Catholic Church. But he knew this was going to end badly if he let it continue.
“Listen, Professor,” said Tim. “There are some things you need to understand about my world.”
“Indeed. There is still much to learn.”
“Religion, for example, is different there than it is here. A long time ago, people made up stories to explain things they didn’t understand, and over time, –”
“Twenty Arby’s Roast Beefs!” said Paul.
“And ten large curly fries,” said Jennifer. Each of them held two large, paper Arby’s bags. “Would His Majesty like anything to drink with that?”
“Better safe than sorry,” said Professor Goosewaddle. “He likes the Dew of the Mountain.”
Tim stood in front of the exit. “Professor. We need to talk about this before you go.”
“I mustn’t keep His Majesty waiting any longer,” said Professor Goosewaddle, taking the filled cup from Jennifer. “You should run back to your tavern.”
“But I need –”
“Paul, Jennifer. Get some rest. You’ll find pillows and bedrolls in the room upstairs. You both did a fine job today.”
“But Professor,” said Tim. “You need to hear –”
“City-wide state of emergency,” said the professor. �
�Such a declaration is unprecedented in my lifetime. I understand you’re eager to share to share your culture and history with me, as am I eager to learn it. But now is not the time. The king demands nourishment. We shall speak of this again soon.”
“But –”
Professor Goosewaddle bowed his head curtly. “Good bye for now.” He vanished with a little pop and puff of blue smoke, which Tim suspected he may have added to his Teleportation spell for a little extra flair.
“Well, fuck.”
As soon as the professor was gone, Paul sat in a booth and started sobbing. Jennifer sat in a different booth and laid her head on her arms. She looked more exhausted than anything.
Tim went back to his own booth and finished his curly fries.
Chapter 32
Katherine wasn’t sure what had happened to Chaz’s lute, but from the way he’d been griping since their escape, she suspected it might be lodged up his ass.
“How much farther is it to PortTown?” Chaz groaned. “I’m tired, and I can’t see.”
“I don’t rightly know,” said Tanner. “I’m not exactly sure where that drow secret exit let out. It was clever of them to put the door higher up in the tree, rather than at the base.”
“Yeah, real clever. Didn’t you say you had some business to take care of back in Cardinia?”
Tanner shrugged. “Something came up.”
“Uh-huh,” said Chaz. “Something like your skinny black dick?”
“Chaz!” said Katherine. She slapped him on the back of the head.
“Jesus!” cried Chaz. “That hurts. Is that, like, a vampire thing?”
“You’re being rude and vulgar.”
“The only reason he’s hanging around is because he wants to get in your pants. You have to know that.”
“Tanner has been a perfect gentleman.”
“So was Millard.”
“And was he trying to get in my pants?”
Chaz laughed. “No. He only murdered you.”
“It sounds to me like somebody’s jealous.” Katherine would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the attention, but it was getting a little pathetic.
“Oh please,” said Chaz. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just telling you like it is. Any guy can act like a gentleman when they’re trying to get in your pants. I mean, even I was a gentleman when…”
Katherine glared at him. “I’m sorry, Chaz. Were you saying something?”
“Ha ha!” said Tanner. “No right way to finish that thought, mate.”
Chaz trudged along sulky and silent.
Katherine didn’t want to be that hard on him. “Why not pass the time with a song? Where’s your lute?”
“The gentleman smashed it over a soldier’s head.”
“Oh.”
“Traveler up ahead,” said Tanner. “One of you should ask him how far it is to PortTown.”
“Why one of us?” asked Chaz. “Your mouth seems to be in fine working order.”
“Aye, it is that,” Tanner said with a wink at Katherine. “But many folksdon’t take kindly to drow, even half-drow, such as myself.”
“Chaz?” said Katherine. “Would you like to go talk to the traveler, seeing as how you have the highest Charisma score?” She didn’t want to use geek-speak, but Chaz could do with feeling useful for once.
“I’m pretty sure your Charisma score is higher since you turned into a vampire.”
Tanner smiled. “What a peculiar conversation we’re having.”
There was only so much pampering Katherine was prepared to offer Chaz. If he wanted to feel sorry for himself all night, that was fine with her. The pity train just left the station.
“I’ll go,” she said. “You two hang back.”
The traveler was human. He was carrying a backpack almost as big as himself, and a sturdy hiking stick. He might have had his every worldly possession in there. Katherine didn’t want to spook him, so she waited until she was close enough for him to see her before addressing him.
“Hello.”
“Aye?” The traveler eyed her warily and did not stop walking. He was at least ten or fifteen years older than her, but his legs were strong.
Katherine changed direction and walked alongside him. “Are you coming from PortTown?”
“Aye.”
“How long a walk is it from here to there?”
“At a brisk pace, you can make it in two hours. Get a good look, lass. It may no longer be there come sunup.” He couldn’t possibly expect her not to follow up on that, but he was still walking.
“And why would PortTown no longer be there come sunup?”
Though he failed to slow his pace, he at least did Katherine the courtesy of looking at her. “Timmon Bloodsoul approaches.”
“Um… Who?”
“Never mind this guy,” said Tanner, approaching from the other way.
“You stay back!” The traveler stopped dead in his tracks, brandishing his hiking stick at Tanner. “I don’t seek trouble from no drow.”
“You see?” Tanner said to Katherine. “What did I tell you?”
Katherine put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at the old man. “You are out of line, sir. Drow are not all like that.”
Tanner gave her a funny look. “Say that again.”
“I said ‘Drow are not –”
“Drow,” Tanner corrected her.
“Drow?”
“No, you’re saying it wrong. Drow, rhymes with cow.”
“I thought it was drow, rhymes with… uh…grow.”
Chaz looked as cheerful as he had all night. “You were about to saybro, weren’t you?”
“Chaz! Shut up!” Katherine turned to Tanner. “I totally was not.” She was grateful that her blood no longer flowed, because she’d be beet red right now. Careful to get the pronunciation right, she faced the bewildered old man and repeated herself. “Drow are not all like that.”
“Actually,” said Tanner. “They kinda are. But I’m only half-drow.”
“Tanner!”
“A soul cannot be half-corrupted,” said the old traveler. “You walk in darkness.”
“Well it’s fucking nighttime, isn’t it?” said Katherine.
Chaz and Tanner both smiled at her. The old man did not.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Tanner. “Leave this crazy old man alone with his fisherman tales.”
“Aye, crazy am I?” The old man pointed a bony finger at one of his wide, blue eyes. “I know what my own eyes have seen, and they seen his pinas, sure as they see you standing there now.”
“Hold up,” said Chaz. “You saw his what? Like, he just whipped it out?”
Tanner folded his arms and cocked his head to the side. “You honestly expect me to believe that you saw the Phantom Pinas?”
Chaz scratched his head. “So is that, like, it got cut off, but he can still feel it? Wait… Then how did you see it?”
The old man raised his arms and his voice. “I saw his junk, flapping in the wind!”
Chaz shook his head. “I’m so confused.”
“Pish!” the old man said, clearly disgusted with the three of them. “Travel south if you must. You’ll know the truth of my words soon enough.” And with that, he continued his journey north.
Katherine, Chaz, and Tanner continued southward.
“Have you really never heard of Timmon Bloodsoul?” asked Tanner.
Katherine shook her head.
“When I was a child, my father would tell me that, if I misbehave, Timmon Bloodsoul would get me. I guess your parents were more the positive reinforcement type.”
“I don’t have any recollection of my parents,” said Katherine. “Chaz said they were rapists. I guess that kept them pretty busy. So you really think that old man was crazy? We don’t have to worry about Timmon Bloodsoul and his spirit penis?”
“Phantom Pinas.”
“Whatever.”
“Trust me,” said Tanner. “If the Phantom Pinas actually tu
rned up, you’d see a lot more than one crazy old man fleeing northward.”
There was an easy enough way to check that. Katherine took her bat form, flapped her way above the trees, and saw exactly what she was hoping she wouldn’t. About a twenty minute walk away from them, there was a multitude of people heading their way. Men, women, and children, burdened with as much of their belongings as they could carry. It was an exodus.
Katherine flew down to the others and changed back into a half-elf. “It’s real.”
“What’s real?” asked Tanner.
“All of it. Timmon Bloodsoul. The ghost dick. All of it. There is a crowd of frightened people coming this way right now.”
“We should turn around,” said Chaz.
“What if my brother’s down there?”
“Then he’s probably in that crowd heading north, just like we should do.”
“I have to find out.” Katherine took her bat form again and flapped high over the trees. She flew as fast as she could over the crowd, keeping an eye out for Cooper. He’d be the easiest to spot. There were maybe three hundred people in all before the crowd started thinning out in the back, and she didn’t see anyone who looked like Cooper or Tim.
Whatever virtues Tim and his friends possessed, suicidal bravery wasn’t one of them. They were probably all back at that shitty tavern, drinking their shitty beer. Katherine turned around, and rescanned the crowd more casually on her return flight. And there they were.
How could she have missed such a mismatched group of travelers on her first pass? She flew off to the side, into the forest, so as not to spook anyone with her transformation. Once back in half-elf form, she pushed her way through the crowd until she saw her brother and his friends again. Cooper had finally thrown on a shirt, which was nice. He and Tim were holding hands, which was a little weird, but kind of cute. Tim was probably drunk and needed the guidance.
She walked up behind Cooper and punched him jovially in the shoulder. “Hey, shithead. You miss me?”
When Cooper turned around, he – or rather she– was the biggest, most brutish human woman Katherine had ever seen outside of a Walmart.
The little half-elven girl, who was most certainly not Tim, looked up at the woman. “Who’s that, mommy?”
“I’m so sorry!” said Katherine. “I thought you were a man.”