Dream

by RW Krpoun

  “That was worth it,” Jeff said with no small satisfaction.

  “Damn straight,” Derek agreed, and the other two nodded.

  “Let’s get to our quarters,” Shad suggested. “I’m about used up.”

  Berriman caught up with them as they crossed the small village square. “My friends, you have our eternal thanks. I will gather your reward at once.”

  Jeff waved a blood-stained hand. “Forget the reward, we were honored to do it. What would be nice is if we could get a hot bath, some clothes washed, and a hot meal. Not a feast, just a meal.”

  The smith’s surprise was plain. “Yes…of course, anything. We owe you a great debt....”

  “If it is all right, we would like to rest here for three days,” Shad interjected. “We took wounds and battering in the fight, and while we were able to Heal our physical injuries, the wear on the body is substantial. We will depart on the fourth day-we don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You are no burden-you are heroes. I will make arrangements…thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

  Fred dumped his pack next to his stacked gear and leaned his axe against the cow shed’s wall. “Good to be back. A bath would be great.”

  “We could have accepted the reward,” Derek pointed out.

  “Look at this place-it would have been a few Marks in small change,” Shad shrugged. “This way we get three days’ worth of bed and board for free, and a friendly bolt-hole if we ever need to lay low. Friends are more important than petty cash.”

  “OK.” Derek’s greed in gaming was legendary, yet oddly absent in his real life. From the looks of it he was struggling between modes.

  “What about the loot we got out of the chest? When do you want to divvy that?” Jeff asked.

  “Tomorrow, when Derek can give it the once over. You do have Detect Magic, right?” Shad asked the Shadowmancer.

  “And Identify, and Detect Curse.”

  “Good.”

  Bathed and fed, Shad sat at the borrowed table and slowly worked on his charms.

  “Man, I can’t believe we did a dungeon crawl,” Derek grinned from his perch on a nearby pile of firewood.

  “I’m a bit surprised we survived,” Jeff said from where he sprawled on a blanket in the sun. “And that we were only in there for three hours or so. Seemed like days.”

  Fred’s contribution was his snoring echoing in the shed.

  “I didn’t think we were going to make it out when that bugbear popped up. Good thing we caught the Goblins out of their armor,” Derek shook his head.

  “You did good work with your bow. Shad, how are we on charms?”

  “Not too bad. I used less than I’ve made recently, but before we leave here I’m going to have to re-issue the insect charms again. Notice the way the girls scratched? We missed out on a healthy dose of Goblin-bred body lice.”

  “Ugh,” Derek shuddered, and took a pull from his mug.

  “I keep four on hand at all times,” Shad reassured him. “I figure I can crank out close to twenty charms before we leave here. Once I get enough of a supply built up I won’t need to take so much downtime.”

  “I’m OK with downtime,” Jeff sighed. “That goat stew was pretty damn good.”

  “OK, first things first,” The four were seated around a blanket spread on the floor of the cow shed watching Derek sort the loot. “We got thirty-one Marks and change. What’s the split?”

  “How about seven each and the rest in the kitty?” Jeff suggested.

  “We’re in pretty good shape,” Derek admitted. “We didn’t buy anything other than rations and a few items.”

  “Sounds good,” Shad agreed. “But how about we put what we get from the sale of the jewelry into the party fund?”

  That was acceptable.

  “Now, we have four magical items: two potions of Healing, a ring which adds a small bonus to the effects of worn armor, and an enchanted dirk.” Derek held up the weapon, whose blade looked like Damascus steel with reddish highlights. “It’s Dwarven forged and the enchantment adds a little damage. Plus the blade won’t rust or dull.”

  “Potions to the party fund,” Jeff shrugged. “Standard policy. Shad and Derek each carry one.”

  No one objected. “OK, you can drink it or pour it directly on the wound. Drinking is more efficient but pouring it is better for arterial or major bleeding,” Derek passed the potion, which was in a short length of cow’s horn with a cork stopper, to Shad. “What about the dirk?”

  “Jeff fights with a main gauche,” Shad pointed out. “He should get it. The rest of us just carry daggers as back-ups or very close combat.”

  Fred nodded, so Derek passed the weapon and scabbard to the Night-grifter. “OK, I can’t use the ring-you have to have armor for it to work. I would suggest Fred, since he’s the key point of the fighting line.” The others nodded.

  “OK, that’s it. Money, jewelry, potions, ring, dirk. Not a bad haul.”

  “Not bad at all,” Shad agreed. “We learned a bit, got some XP and some loot. We’re a bit better off for the effort.”

  “You know, I understand that Yorrian and her asshole buddies had to play by the rules about level, but certainly they could have loaded us up with some magical hardware,” Jeff slid his main guache’s scabbard off his belt and slid the scabbard for his new dirk in its place.

  “I think they’re playing the numbers game,” Derek scowled. “They’re throwing group after group at the intruders and counting on the law of averages. Sooner or later they’ll send in a group who knows what they are doing or gets lucky.”

  “Two are down from seven, so as an abstract idea its working,” Shad conceded. “As one of the numbers in the equation, I think it sucks.”

  Their departure was a prolonged affair. The entire village turned out with presents of food and ale, so much so that Berriman had to step in and curtail some of it as the four and Ula could not carry away all of it. The smith himself presented each of the four with a fine sheath knife of his own creation as a personal thanks.

  “That was nice,” Derek observed as they trudged down the road, forest pressing in on either side.

  “Yeah,” Shad said through a mouthful of pork chop.

  “You got a thing for pork chops?” Jeff asked.

  “Yeah. These are pretty damn good knives by any standard.”

  “Fred and me got those codes written out,” Derek slapped his pack. “We need to keep an eye out for a buyer.”

  “Too bad we don’t get XP for innovation,” Jeff observed.

  “Who says we don’t?” Derek shrugged.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  They followed the road through the woods and continued on into the hills; that passage wasn’t completely without incident as two spiders the size of compact sedans attacked them from the trees. Fred slew one, while the other fell to a combination of efforts by the other three.

  The value of Ula was rapidly growing in their estimates. Besides warning them of the spiders’ approach (it was not her fault they did not realize the source of her agitation) the little jenny, who appeared to have grown fond of Derek, kept pace easily despite her load and the slopes.

  “She’s a tough little thing,” Shad rubbed Ula between her ears and then moved a bit upstream from where Jeff was washing his feet to fill his canteen. “Damn, the water’s cold for summer.”

  “It’s nice,” Jeff took another long drink. “Looks like its coming off the high slopes.”

  “I’m just glad to be out of the trees,” Derek shuddered. “I don’t mind spiders as long as they aren’t the size of a Herford bull. Plus I’m really low on useable arrows.”

  “Yeah, we’re still in the learning phase,” Shad sat of the bank of the stream and began work on a charm.

  “That’s a knife,” Derek observed.

  Shad held up the knife, which had a narrow, sharply pointed blade and a tang covered with a single wrapping of leather cord. “Yeah, I put the charm on the knife, and I can
throw it…well, like in the movies. Only forty feet, but they’re pretty handy. I’m going to tack the scabbards to the inside of my shield when I get enough charmed to be worthwhile.”

  “Cool. Can anyone use ‘em? ”

  “Not the charm, unfortunately.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Jeff dried his feet and applied talc. “We ought to keep an ear open for news about Yorrian. We don’t owe that bitch a thing and it might be useful to know something about the other side of the equation.”

  “A very good idea,” Shad nodded. “Derek, that’s your field-she’s definitely some sort of spellcaster.”

  “Got it,” The Shadowmancer mumbled, reading a dossier.

  “How close to you think we are to third level?” Jeff asked over breakfast the next morning.

  “If you get XP for innovation and good ideas, we should be making very strong progress,” Shad shrugged. “A quest completed, lots of kills, plenty of class skill use. Halfway for Fred, who I figure is in the lead.”

  “More than halfway,” Derek looked up from the dossiers he had been studying yet again. “We’re on a fast track.”

  “How do you figure that? Yorrian said we’re abiding by the rules,” Fred objected.

  Derek held up the dossiers. “We have epic level enemies. The toughest guys ever. The disparity in power means we probably are getting points for every day we survive. We know the Ultimate Master is hunting us, however sloppily.”

  “Good point,” Jeff conceded.

  “Any way we can turn that to our advantage?” Shad asked.

  “Yeah, I think there is,” the Shadowmancer tapped his notebook. “We distribute information on weapons which can take them out. The rule is our spells are activated to send us home as they die. Nothing says we have to personally kill them.”

  “What weapons would that be?” Shad gestured to Fred’s axe. “We’re on the same footing as the locals.”

  “Gunpowder.”

  “You said it was class knowledge that gunpowder won’t work.”

  “Sure. You make a firearm and point it at a local and the powder will burn like the individual components would. But if you pointed it at Fred, it would function as the compound we call gunpowder. See, we treat the Five as if we were back on Earth, skills and all, right? So gunpowder would affect them. We can make a firecracker and test my theory; Shad, you’ve mixed gunpowder.”

  “Yeah, for my muzzle-loaders. But say your idea works, manufacturing a musket is beyond any of our skills even if the local tools could manage it. The Dwarves might work one up, but you couldn’t practice with it because it will only fire if its pointed at an outlander.”

  “Bombs. Didn’t they try to kill Wellington with a black powder bomb?”

  “Maybe-I don’t remember. But if there are locals in the blast radius it won’t go off.”

  “Yeah, but we can warn them about that fact. Think about it: we have nothing to lose. We aren’t killing anyone, and if the locals get lucky, all the better for us.”

  “The Ultimate Master is hunting us,” Jeff pointed out. “While I’m not ready to stick a sword into him yet, some local offing him wouldn’t break my heart.”

  “Plus we should get XP for actively operating against far superior opponents,” Derek grinned. “Win-win.”

  “Worth testing out,” Shad conceded. “That’s a project for when we reach town.”

  “If it works, who do we give it to?” Jeff asked, lacing up his boots.

  “There’s bound to be other people who don’t like what is happening,” Derek pointed out. “Besides those who brought us here. Plus others who just want to be boss.”

  “Finding them will be tough,” Jeff countered.

  “Don’t need to,” Fred mumbled. “Just post the information. It’ll find the way.”

  “Yeah,” Shad nodded. “Get plates engraved-I saw an engraver’s shop. It’s a precursor to the printing press. Expensive, though.”

  “No need,” Derek clapped his hands. “First level spell Copy reproduces a page instantly, so long as you’ve got blank parchment handy. Each evening I can duplicate as many pages as I have spells left.”

  “Once it gets out other people will make copies,” Shad grinned. “Well, first we find out if it works. But I do believe we have a plan.”

  They saw patrols wearing a red Fist late that afternoon. “The Fist started pushing out when the Ultimate Master seized power,” Jeff observed. “Incus, which we’ll reach tomorrow, is now part of the Fist. Officially it’s a border fort, but it looks like the First is still pushing south.”

  “If their presence is bringing about some centralized government then the Five have been good for something,” Derek said.

  The next morning they passed Incus, once a village, now a garrisoned border town, and kept marching north, four bravos in travel-marked clothing and battered armor. No one gave them a second glance.

  “Thunder’s Fist,” Derek said with not a little awe.

  The Fist was a castle set into the slope of a steep hill, not the fairyland elegance of Walt Disney but rather a squat stone defensive work designed to break any force sent against it. The town of the same name, unwalled, spread out from the base of the hill across the valley floor.

  “Pretty impressive,” Fred nodded.

  “Smaller than the City-State, but it seems lively enough,’ Jeff grinned at the city. “What’s the plan?”

  “Find an inn and relax for a couple days,” Shad scratched his unshaven cheek. “You sniff out the local situation, especially the rules for the underground forays, Derek and Fred work their class-based haunts for gossip. I’ll test out Derek’s theory and make charms.”

  “We don’t just want to hunt loot,” Derek objected as they headed towards town. “We want a specific job.”

  “Why?” Jeff asked.

  “XP. You get the points for kills, for deeds and ideas, and then at the end for completing the quest. Just doing a crawl for cash cuts out the end game bonus.”

  “Good point,” Jeff conceded. “Much as it pains me to say it, we need XP more than loot.”

  The town was indeed lively, more so than most streets in the City-State. Several new inns had opened, and older buildings had been converted into grog shops to accommodate the bands of swaggering bravos returning from what the locals called ‘the warrens’, the ancient underground complex to the northeast. Shops selling arms, armor, and supplies were common, and as Shad had predicted, displaying inflated prices.

  The Baron’s guards were in evidence and order was being kept with a rough and ready directness, and a sense of fair play that impressed the Talons.

  The Bearded Monkey catered to bravos with a bit of coin, so Shad worked on charms in the common room and was hardly the only Jinxman doing so. The Monkey’s rooms were clean and comfortable by the standards of the area but had few windows, whereas the common room was well-lit by large windows that lined the street side and were fitted with clear planes of glass-there were red Dwarves in the Fist producing very fine glass at reasonable rates.

  The Jinxman finished a line of careful cuts and reached for a number three etching pick, freezing when he realized that Yorrian was sitting across the table from him, a wineglass in hand. Her dress was gray and less decorated, but otherwise she appeared as she had the last time he had seen her.

  “Good afternoon,” she smiled.

  Acutely aware of the throwing knife he was holding and still very startled, Shad slowly nodded. “Hi.”

  “Eighteen days,” the woman remarked into the lingering silence that followed. “You’ve already out-lasted several groups.”

  “No thanks to you,” Shad kept his voice low. “You brought us in too close-the Wraiths picked up our arrival.”

  “Of course we did,” the Exalted Guardian made a slight gesture and he felt a chill wisp of breeze. “There-some privacy. We want you to end our troubles, not sight-see.”

  “Not at first level, we won’t,” The Jinxman said bitterly. “We’
ve got no firepower, no real grasp on the world, and you dump us at the dragon’s door. You’re lucky culture shock didn’t get us.”

  “We were more forgiving with the first three groups, and they still haven’t accomplished a thing. All groups since have come in under the eye of one of the Five. You are here for a purpose.”

  “You know, you could have improved our chances of actually accomplishing our mission by letting us start with a few enchanted items.”

  “”These are not, as you must be aware, terribly common. To give eacvh group even a single item or weapon would become extremely expensive.”

  “What about more starting money? We’re having to scrounge for living expenses.”

  “We were more generous in the beginning, but as I have noted, the first groups have accomplished nothing.”

  The Jinxman shook his head. “How did you find us?”

  “I performed the final…procedures which creates a bond that lasts for a lunar cycle. Fear not, no one else can detect it.”

  “Why are you here? We’re working on the problem, but we’re still ridiculously out-matched. We’re going to be a long time preparing.”

  “Make haste. The Wraiths are not as hard-working as hunters should be, but they have not missed the significance of four bravos in nearly-new clothing and equipment entering the river gate. They tracked you to your first inn, but have lost the trail since. The Alchemists do not care to share information, and you were more careful in your latter time in the City-State. You look much more the part, now.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Hardly. They are coming here, and they move a good deal faster than you do. I cannot say how soon.”

  “Why here? Did you tip them off?”

  “Hardly. This is the only sizeable place in a great distance, and you are not the first group they have hunted. They know you must work and gain expertise before you can make a move against their master. They are not brilliant by any means, but they have experience in this particular type of hunt.”

  “What level are they?”