Critical Failures IV

by Robert Bevan

  “Looks like we may get through this alive after all,” said Julian, joining Mayor Merriweather at the west-facing edge of the inn’s roof.

  “Aye, if you keep your voice down.” He rubbed his bristly chin. “He’s headed straight for Cardinia, as the raven flies.”

  Julian grabbed the mayor by the lapels of his robe. “Did you see a raven?”

  “Get a hold of yourself, boy!” said the mayor. “It’s an expression.”

  Julian let go. “I’m sorry. I just –”

  “Who ever heard of such nonsense?Getting yourself all worked up over a bird while there’s four red dragons close enough to –”

  The brisk, pre-morning air reverberated with a thunderous reptilian scream. One of the dragons had broken formation and was beating its great leathery wings in their direction.

  “Well, shit,” said Julian.

  “Mind your tongue, boy,” said the mayor. “And you might want to take cover.” With that, he morphed into his man-tiger hybrid form.

  Julian ducked behind the wall and peeked over the top. Squinting, he could just make out a figure riding on the dragon’s massive head.

  “Doogan Merriweather!” bellowed the figure atop the dragon’s head. “I created you, and now I will end you! Prepare to suffer the wrath of Mordred!”

  Well that settled that.

  As the dragon got closer, Julian recognized the figure on its head, Mordred, as the same elf who had blasted him with a fireball, but with one significant difference. He was now wearing an eye patch.

  “Ravenus!” Julian’s sense of optimism was renewed. Ravenus must have escaped, and he left his captor something to remember him by. Good for him.

  “Fly, Falkor!” shouted the dragon-riding elf. “Burn the inn to the ground!”

  “Well, shit,” Julian said again.

  The mayor growled at him.

  “Sorry.” While Julian waited to be roasted, he considered Mordred’s choice of name for his pet dragon. Falkor. The luck dragon from The Neverending Story. There was something sad about that. Mordred honestly saw himself as a bullied little boy striking back at his oppressors.

  Falkor’s head was about the size of a van, all scales, horns, and teeth. When he opened his mouth, Julian could see a flame at the back of his throat.

  Julian crouched close to the wall and shut his eyes. The heat from the fire was intense, but not so much as it had been when he was actually engulfed in a fireball. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the entire eastern half of the roof was on fire. The chairs he and the mayor had been sitting in were completely incinerated. Hang on…. Where the hell was the mayor?

  Julian looked up. Falkor was flying in an upward spiral. Mayor Merriweather was hanging on to the dragon’s back, near the base of the tail, and climbing toward its head.

  “That crazy son of a…” A thought occurred to him, and he shouted up at the Mayor. “Don’t kill the elf!”

  Unable to offer much in the way of assistance in a dragon fight, Julian did what he thought was the next best thing. He picked up a potted plant and hurled it down on top of some flames. The moist soil snuffed out that one little section of fire. The roof was well-stocked with potted plants. Julian tried to choose the ones he assumed were decorative before the ones which were edible, but wasn’t particularly picky about it. As he fought back the fire, he kept an eye on the mayor.

  “Julian!” said Dave, hurrying up the stairs. “Are you okay?”

  Julian smashed a potted orchid on some fire. “Yeah. Give me a hand, would you?”

  Dave nodded and grabbed the nearest pot, a tomato plant. “Why are we doing this?” He smashed the pot down at his feet.

  “What the hell, Dave? I’m trying to put out the fire!”

  “Oh. Sorry. I just woke up.” Dave waddled closer to the flames and raised his hands. “Water!” Streams of water flowed down from points in the air, as if poured from invisible pitchers. It was much more effective at containing the fire than Julian’s pots had been.

  Julian turned his attention back to Mordred, Falkor, and Mayor Merriweather.

  The mayor had reached the dragon’s head, and was getting very close to Mordred. Julian couldn’t see exactly what happened next, but it must have caused Falkor some discomfort, because he jerked his head to the side, sending both passengers plummeting toward the sea.

  “Shit,” said Dave. “That’s a hell of a fall. Do you think they’ll survive that?”

  “I hope so,” said Julian. “I guess it depends on how many Hit Points they’ve got.”

  Julian’s attention was so focused on the two falling figures that he didn’t notice Falkor again until he swooped down to snatch Mayor Merriweather out of the sky.

  Mordred hit the water with a loud, smacking splash, causing Julian to wince. He felt a little bad that he winced for Mordred, but not for Mayor Merriweather. It was a matter of being able to relate. He’d felt the sting of a belly-flop on the water before, but he’d never been devoured by a flying reptile.

  A second splash came from directly below them. Julian looked down. Stacy had jumped out the window and was swimming out to Mordred’s point of impact.

  “Help!” cried Mordred, flailing his arms wildly in the sea, trying to keep his head above the rolling waves. “Help me!”

  Julian looked at the sky, fearing Stacy might have to compete with a dragon to rescue Mordred, but Falkor seemed to have lost interest in all of them. He was flying back toward the big flying boat and his fellow dragons.

  “It’s dawn,” said Tony the Elf, joining Julian and Dave on the roof. “Dave, start praying.” He slapped Julian on the back. “Hell of a way to start the morning, eh?”

  This seemed like an odd time for Tony the Elf to suddenly become friendly. Maybe he didn’t have a clear understanding of what just happened.

  Julian kept his eyes on Stacy. “Mayor Merriweather just got eaten by a dragon.”

  “Yeah, I saw that.”

  “You don’t sound too upset.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Tony the Elf. “I’m ecstatic!”

  “What the hell did Mayor Merriweather ever do to you?”

  “I don’t give a shit about Mayor Merriweather, or this town, or dragons, or any of this shit.” He grabbed Julian by the arm and shook him enthusiastically. “We’ve got the magic dice, and we’ve got Mordred. He identified himself!”

  “We don’t have Mordred yet,” said Julian. “Should we help her?”

  “How good a swimmer are you?”

  “I spent a summer as a lifeguard when I was in high school.”

  Tony the Elf let out one of those sighs that made him seem like the Tony the Elf that Julian was more familiar with. “I mean your character. How many ranks in the Swim skill do you have?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “Swim is a Strength-based skill. What’s your Strength score?”

  “Not great.”

  “Then you’ll just be one more drowning asshole that she has to haul back to shore.”

  Julian wanted very much to test his Strength score by throwing Tony the Elf off the side of the building.

  Stacy, meanwhile, had reached Mordred, and was beginning the slow process of swimming him back to the nearest pier. It took a long time, but Julian and Tony the Elf were waiting to relieve Stacy of her burden when she arrived.

  “Sit on him,” said Tony the Elf. “Pin his arms down.”

  Julian sat on Mordred and held his wrists firmly.

  After some initial coughing and gasping, Mordred looked up at Julian. He’d lost his eye patch at sea, and the vacant space in his ocular cavity was very disconcerting to look at. “Thank you for –”

  “And don’t let him talk!” said Tony the Elf.

  Julian didn’t know how to keep Mordred from talking, as he was all out of limbs.

  “Thank you for –”

  Julian spat in his face. It was all he could think of.

  “Ew! Stop that. What are you hrmfrmfhng!” Whatever he’d
meant to say was muffled by Tony the Elf’s socks in his mouth.

  “Okay, get off him.”

  Julian stood up.

  Tony the Elf pulled Mordred up and quickly tied his hands behind his back with some rope he’d found on the pier. “As long as he can neither speak nor move his hands, he shouldn’t be able to cast any spells.”

  “You stupid piece of shit,” said Stacy. Julian was relieved to see that she was, in fact, speaking to Mordred. “I want you to take a good, hard look at this.”

  She grabbed Julian by the back of the neck and smooshed his face against hers. Her tongue wagged around in his mouth like an octopus looking for its keys in the dark. It was one of the least passionate kisses Julian had ever experienced. To further her point, she grabbed Julian’s wrist and clapped his hand over her tit, which he found about as erotic as slapping a colostomy bag.

  When Stacy was done using Julian like a RealDoll, she shoved him aside and got up in Mordred’s face. “Let’s get this one thing straight. You and me? Never. Gonna. Happen.” She turned her back on him, thought for a moment, turned back around, and belted Mordred squarely in the nose. His body went limp. He only remained standing because Tony the Elf was holding him up.

  “So,” said Julian. “That just happened.”

  “Mordred and I had a little talk on the way back,” Stacy explained. “We’re all good now. Where’s Dave?”

  Stacy slung Mordred’s unconscious body over her shoulder as they walked back to the Merriweather Inn, where Dave had just finished praying in the lobby.

  “We should get back to the Whore’s Head,” said Tony the Elf. “At the speed that big boat is flying, we should be able to beat it to Cardinia if we travel by horse.We can get Mordred to send us back home before all hell breaks loose in the–”

  “Help me!” said an old man’s raspy voice at the entrance of the inn.

  “Jesus Christ!” cried Dave.

  “Mayor Merriweather?” said Julian. He wouldn’t have recognized the old man if not for the tattered remains of his robe. His body was covered in blood, gore, and what appeared to be chemical burns.

  Stacy dropped Mordred on the floor and shoved a chair across the floor toward the mayor. “Sit down. Dave, get over here!”

  Dave placed a finger on the least sticky part of the mayor’s naked body. “I heal thee!”

  Mayor Merriweather groaned. The blood and gore remained, but the burns faded.

  “I heal thee!” Dave said a second time, and the burns faded even more. He repeated the incantation until the burns disappeared completely. “You’ve sure got a lot of Hit Points.”

  Mayor Merriweather looked down at his erection. “It’s been a while, old friend.”

  “What happened?” asked Stacy. “How are you still alive?”

  The mayor smiled up at her. “I’ll give you a little bit of the wisdom my mother passed down to me. Always chew your food before you swallow.That goes double if you’re eating a weretiger.”

  Tears rolled down Stacy’s face as she laughed.

  Tony the Elf tapped his foot impatiently. “Guys. We really need to be on our way.”

  “You folks saved my inn,” said Mayor Merriweather. “I can’t let you leave here empty handed.”

  “Thank you,” said Tony the Elf. “But that really isn’t –”

  “Wait right here,” said the mayor. He walked down the hall and into a room, and closed the door behind him.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Tony the Elf whispered.

  Stacy glared at him. “Don’t be rude. He wants to thank us. And who knows? He might give us something cool.”

  “Old people don’t give cool things,” said Ton the Elf. “He’s going to give us a box of raisins or expired coupons for a casino buffet.”

  “You’re kind of an asshole.”

  “The only thing I’m interested in walking out of here with is tied up and sleeping on the –”

  “Over the years,” said Mayor Merriweather, returning with a fresh robe and carrying a small wooden chest.“I’ve acquired a collection of special objects that I seldom have occasion to use.”

  “Special objects?” said Tony the Elf, suddenly seeming less in a hurry to leave.

  Mayor Merriweather placed the chest atop the bar and opened the lid. He pulled out a folded grey cloth and placed it on the bar in front of Stacy.

  “You move with the grace of a cat, your footsteps as quiet as falling snow. This is for you.”

  Stacy unfolded the cloth and held it up. It was a plain, grey cloak. “Wow. Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  Tony the Elf smirked as Stacy tried to mask her disappointment. He’d been right. This senile old man was giving them shit he found lying around his bedroom.

  “Pussy scented dwarf!” said the mayor.

  “Dave’s fine,” said Dave.

  “You are sturdy and immobile.”

  “Um… Thanks?”

  The mayor pulled a flat iron bar out of the box and placed it before Dave. “Take this rod and use it wisely.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Elven Ranger,” said the mayor, looking at Tony the Elf. “It’s a dangerous world out there. Face it in good health.” He pulled out a medallion on a thick gold chain. The image of a lion’s head was engraved on the front.

  “Super,” said Tony the Elf. “I shall take this, and forever pity fools.”

  Stacy glared at him.

  “And last, but certainly not least,” said the mayor, “the mighty sorcerer.”

  Julian could only assume he was talking about him. “That’s kind of a stretch.”

  As you grow more powerful in your art, you will often find yourself the preferred target of your enemies, who rightfully fear you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Choose the time to make your presence known.” Mayor Merriweather placed an unadorned silver ring on the bar in front of Julian.

  “That’s nice,” said Julian, slipping the ring on his finger. He smiled politely. “Simple. Elegant. Thank you very much.”

  “The command word is ‘fade’.”

  “Fade?”

  “Whoa!” said Dave.

  “Julian?” said Stacy. She was looking right at him, but she looked confused, and her eyes didn’t seem to be focused on him.

  Julian looked down at his new ring, only to find it missing, along with his finger, hand, and arm. “What the hell is going on? Where am I?”

  “Calm down, boy!” said Mayor Merriweather. “It’s just a simple Ring of Invisibility.”

  “For real? Sweet!” Julian brushed Stacy’s arm with the tips of his fingers. She yelped and shivered like she was covered in spiders. “This is the coolest thing ever!”

  “Perhaps you’re not as powerful a sorcerer as I was led to believe,” said the mayor. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there.”

  “Hold on,” said Tony the Elf. “Is all this stuff magical?”

  “Of course,” the mayor said with a gleam in his eye. “Did you think I just collected some random junk from my bedchamber?”

  Tony the Elf put on his new gold chain, making him look like a first level rapper. “What does mine do? I don’t feel any different.”

  “That is an Amulet of Health,” said the mayor.

  “So what? It gives me a Constitution bonus?”

  Mayor Merriweather furrowed his brow. “I suppose that’s one way of saying it.”

  Stacy slapped Julian’s invisible hand when he touched her arm again, then put on her cloak. “How do I look?”

  “Amazing,” said Julian.

  Stacy smiled. “Thank you!”

  “No, I mean I can barely see you at all, except for your face and feet.”

  Stacy’s cloak had taken on the colors of the bar, like a chameleon, making her difficult to focus on. She wasn’t straight up invisible like Julian, but as long as she stood still, she was pretty close.

  “That is a Cloak of Elvenkind,” said Mayor Merriweather.“Elves are a race known for their grace and subt
lety.”

  “WoooOOOoooOOO!” said Julian, lifting Dave’s helmet from his head with invisible hands and making it seem to hover in the air. “Ghost helmet! WoooOOOoooOOO!”

  “Of course,” the mayor continued, “That’s a generalization.”

  Dave snatched his helmet from Julian’s hands and put it back on his head. “What’s this thing?” he asked, picking up his flat iron bar.

  Mayor Merriweather smiled. “That’s an Immovable Rod.”

  “Not really,” said Dave, waving the bar around.

  “There’s a small button on the side. Give it a push.”

  Dave pushed the button, and the hand holding the bar seemed to become stuck where it was. When he let go of the bar, it hung in midair. Julian had seen a lot of strange stuff during his time in this world, but for some reason, he found this the most unnatural.

  Dave pushed on the rod until his feet started slipping backwards, but the rod didn’t budge.

  Julian slipped off his ring and became visible again. “That’s incredible.” He gripped the rod with both hands and tried to yank it out of the air. It was as solid as a brick wall. “What is it for?”

  “It’s applications are limited only by your imagination,” said the mayor. “Use it as a step to reach an apple just out of reach. Use it to anchor your horse while you take a nap. As a last resort, you could even use it to block a door while you make an escape. I’ve been using it to hang my winter coat.”

  Julian pushed the button on the side of the rod, and it succumbed once again to the force of gravity. He handed it to Dave.

  “This is all very generous,” said Stacy. “But really, it’s too much.”

  “Nonsense!” said the mayor. “You saved my inn. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “We really need to head out,” said Tony the Elf.

  Julian nodded. If Ravenus had escaped, he’d most likely made a beeline for the Whore’s Head Inn.

  Stacy picked up Mordred, and they all thanked Mayor Merriweather one last time.

  “Fare thee well, strangers,” said the mayor, standing at the entrance of the Merriweather Inn as they walked up the main pier. “Should you ever come back to PortTown, you’ll never want for a place to rest.”

  When they reached actual land, Julian summoned five horses. After assisting Dave onto his horse, Julian, Stacy, and Tony the Elf worked together to secure Mordred’s still-unconscious body onto one of the other horses. They needed him alive, but not necessarily comfortable. And they needed to work fast, so they could get as far ahead of the Phantom Pinas as possible before the horses timed out. When they were finished, Mordred lay face-down across the saddle in a tangle of ropes binding his hands and feet, and looped several times under the horse’s belly, around Mordred’s underarms and shoulders, and tied off on the saddlehorn.