Dream

by RW Krpoun

  “Not as high as you might think; the Ultimate Master chooses his underlings for their willingness to flatter and impress, rather than ability. Their leader, the Wraith-Lord, is what you would call level twelve, but he seldom leaves the City-State. Most are level five or six, at least those coming here. They expect to find you as you were eighteen days ago.”

  “Good luck with that. Still, we’re in no shape to face them. I suppose any sort of help is out of the question?”

  “I just warned you,” Yorrian pointed out. “That was information you would have had no opportunity to discover by any other means. We must be discreet.”

  “What happens if one of us is taken alive?” Shad grinned. “We don’t owe you anything. Yorrian might not be your real name, but your looks aren’t all that common.”

  She sighed and sipped her wine. “The Five know who we are. Where we are, now, that is another matter, and one with which you cannot help.”

  “Huh.” Shad thought hard. “Look, can you tell me how to get in touch with rebel organizations? Groups that oppose any or all of the Five? Besides you and your friends.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they have the same goals as you do, and any help we can get will be welcome. I get that you don’t like us, but the longer the Five are here the tougher they will get and the more effect they will have. Time is not your friend.”

  “The resistance against the Supreme Master is known as the Green League. Their representative here is a black Dwarf known as Raggs’beth,” Yorrian admitted after a long pause.

  “How can we make contact with him-what sort of protocol to ensure he understand who we are?”

  Yorrian stared at the Jinxman thoughtfully while she finished her wine. Setting her glass down she plucked a coin from the folds of her dress. “Give him this. It must stay with you until you hand it to him. If anyone else touches it the coin will be gone. He will understand the significance.” She stood. “I may contact you again before our bond fades. It all depends on how well you do.”

  “Thanks,” Shad muttered after she had strode straight-backed across the room and out the door. Glancing at the coin, he stashed it in an empty charm pocket on his belt and pensively resumed his work.

  “After she gave me the coin, she left,” Shad took a pull from his mug. “What does it mean?”

  “Routine check-in?” Derek wondered. “We haven’t done anything special, really.”

  “Why check in?” Jeff countered. “We’re level two-there’s no way we can get to any of the Five.”

  “Maybe another group bought it,” Fred suggested. “She’s checking on the assets remaining.”

  Jeff shook his head. “We’re pieces on a game board.”

  “Well, the news about the Wraiths is interesting,” Shad kept his voice low. “If they show up that’s a point towards her credibility.”

  “So we wait around to see if they show up?” Derek asked.

  “Well, we blend better now, our equipment load-out is different, and you’re not in robes anymore,” Shad pointed out. “Fred’s not wearing his bearskin in town, so the only thing we have in common with their description is numbers. There’s plenty of bravos here, and most are in groups of three to six. I’m betting they’ll hang around looking for signs of who is who. But we’ll just act like bravos, and sooner or later they’ll leave. With the deal in Wyrm we spent a lot more time in transit than should be normal, so they’ll be looking for bravos who arrived here nearly a week before we did.”

  “What’s our next move?” Jeff drained his mug.

  “The powder works like Derek figured. Today we’ll finish writing up how to make and use it, and tomorrow we’ll meet this Dwarf and give him the info. Then we look for work, like bravos should.”

  “I bet rebels need codes,” Fred muttered.

  “I bet they do,” Jeff grinned.

  Raggs’beth was not easy to find; he worked for a Human armorer, doing his crafting in a separate smithy behind the main establishment. The four spent much of the morning locating his place of employment and searching for a way to actually speak with him, finally choosing to bribe a crowd of street urchins to create a disturbance at armorer’s front door while they scaled the back fence.

  “Meeting this guy is like getting out of the Mines of Moria,” Derek muttered, dusting himself off.

  “Quit whining,” Jeff chided him. “And give the Lord of the Rings a rest.”

  “Bite me.”

  The Dwarf’s smithy was a red-lit hell of heat and noise scaled to suit his kind, hung about with the fire-blackened tools of his trade and containing no less than four anvils, the largest the size of a yearling calf. The Dwarf himself was squat and muscled like a bull, clad in grimy shirt and breeches with a smith’s heavy, blackened leather apron over both. His beard was protected from sparks by a leather bag and an old blue bandana covered his hair.

  He was pounding on what looked like a breastplate in its early stages while a smaller and younger version of himself worked the bellows. So caught up was he in his work that the Dwarf did not notice them until he finished his pounding and slid the metal into a tub of oily water.

  Sneering, an expression made even fiercer by the blackened tusks jutting from his lower jaw, the smith scooped up an ornate light war axe, the dark swirling lines and red highlights marking it as his own work. “Bugger off.” His words were made slightly mushy by the tusks.

  Shad stepped forward left hand palm out, the right holding the coin in plain view.

  Raggs’beth stared at the coin a moment, then barked a command to the younger Dwarf, who promptly ducked his head and scuttled out the rear of the shop. When his helper was gone the smith deftly plucked the coin from the Jinxman’s fingers and studied it intently for a few seconds. Without warning the coin began to glow, getting steadily brighter until Raggs’beth covered it with his other hand. Moments later a flash illuminated the bones and blood vessels of his hands, and when he opened them the coin was gone.

  “Ayuh, you’re from a friend,” the Dwarf waved a powerful hand in a sort of concession. “Speak your piece quick, mind.”

  Shad held out a sheaf of parchment. “These are three copies of a document that explains how to make a weapon that can harm or kill the Ultimate Master. The weapon is made from ordinary materials, but it can only affect one of the Five. Deploying it will be tricky, but it cannot be neutralized, so repeat efforts are possible. We cannot get into position to use it, but the…your friends may be able to do so.”

  The Dwarf took the sheets of parchment. “What you want for this, true?”

  “Nothing, except that you or your friends will try to get copies to any group that opposes the others of the Five. We are…ignorant of such groups.”

  “Ayuh.” The smith flipped through the pages, then started over and read carefully. “A powder that will explode only if one of the Five is the only one exposed, true?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, you’ll likely have to experiment to find the proper way, but it will work.”

  “You’re banishers, true?”

  It took a moment for Shad to understand what the Dwarf meant. “Yeah.”

  The Dwarf’s lips curled, but he said nothing.

  “Would you be interested in codes?” Derek stepped into the silence. “We have codes, knowledge we brought with us. Very good codes.”

  “I can’t believe we just talked with a Dwarf,” Derek marveled as they exited through a gate unlocked by the smith’s helper.

  “I can’t believe we’re playing chess with our lives as table stakes,” Shad said grimly. “Now someone knows we’re in town and the Wraiths will be arriving any day, probably any hour. We need our next move.”

  “Be bravos,” Jeff shrugged. “Derek’s got a good idea: we look for a bravo-centric side quest. The Wraiths will be watching for bravos who are not in character.”

  “So far as I can see that would seem to amount to drinking, whoring, and throwing up until they are broke, then entering the warrens to
earn more money,” Fred observed.

  “Boomtown economics,” Derek grinned. “The Baron is getting paid at both ends.”

  “Well, lets go be bravos,” Shad tilted his hat a bit lower. “An excuse to leave town is a good thing.”

  “First…’” Derek dragged a dice cup and three fine ivory dice from his pouch. “We need to dice to see who gets the dagger we got for the codes. Jeff’s out.”

  “Here,” the elderly man tapped the map. “Northwest of Carthage. The barrow-mound will be on a prominent rise, but hidden. You can identify it by stones marked with this symbol.” He slid a sketch across the table to Derek. “Note down good references and bring me one of the marker-stones, and I will pay you one hundred Marks.”

  “We’ve had bad experiences with barrows,” Shad shook his head. “Last time we had to fight for our lives.”

  “Ah, but certainly you opened it,” The old man in finely made scholar’s robes smiled thinly. “Many of the old folk bound their resting places in anticipation of such acts. Just locate the barrow and the reward is yours.”

  “What do you want with the barrow?” Derek asked. “We want no truck with necromancy.”

  The old scholar smiled again. “I am no death-caller. I am Cadiz, the Baron’s archivist, and a student of the old folk, those who first came here with bronze in hand.”

  “Is there anything to learn?” Shad asked. “They were banished here, never to return. What else is there?”

  “A great deal more, my friend,” Cadiz explained, eyes shining. “For one, they did not all come here in one banishment, but in many groups over many generations. Many bore relics and artifacts from our home plane, things whose purpose and decorations could give us valuable insights into what the old ways were like, and why they were banished.”

  “Interesting,” Shad nodded. “All right, we’ll set off first thing tomorrow. By the way, what can you tell us of Carthage? We may need a place to rest if the search is arduous.”

  “A small fishing village,” the scholar tapped the inked dot. “Once a larger place founded by newly-banished folk. Those people did much fighting within a generation or two, and very little remains of the old bloodlines. The name stuck, as such things do. If you go there, the Baron would pay a small sum, perhaps ten Marks, for detailed information on the place and I would be interested in any old stonework. The old folk in that region were quite good stoneworkers.”

  “Fifteen miles through hills,” Shad studied the map after Cadiz took his leave. “Five more to the village.”

  “Not a bad gig,” Jeff observed. “Easy money. Why all the questions about the village?”

  “Carthage was a famous city,” Derek jumped in. “It was Rome’s chief opponent in the early days of the Republic. For a while it wasn’t certain which would dominate the Mediterranean.”

  “Rome ended up destroying the city, literally,” Shad observed, laying out his tools. “Enslaved everyone, demolished the place. Some say they were advocates of child sacrifice to dark powers.”

  “Which could explain why some ended up here,” Fred mused.

  “Not that many survived since,” Derek pointed out. “Cadiz said that there was heavy fighting in the area.”

  “Which explains why finding the barrow isn’t easy,” Jeff pointed out. “Lots of war, lots of heroes, lots of barrows.”

  “Why not head out now-it’s only noon?” Derek asked.

  “Because real bravos don’t rush off once they get a job,” Shad kept his voice low. “Look around-half these guys are drunks and wastrels. I’m beginning to think that one way to spot…people like us is to look for modern efficiency. So go have a few tankards, tell a few lies, and not incidentally see about directions to Carthage. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Derek, make sure you get rations and grain.”

  Chapter Seven

  “So everyone leveled up last night?” Jeff asked after their breakfast was served. “What happened?”

  “The Green…friends took us seriously,” Shad kept his voice down. “Active progress towards our core quest.”

  “Must have been a pretty good bonus,” Derek observed. “Who starts?”

  “I stayed within class, and upped my wilderness skills,” Fred tore a chunk from a loaf of bread.

  “I upped my Glean Information, and dropped a point into Herbology, as it will be helpful with my toxins. Speaking of which, I can now make one,” Jeff reported. “Nothing great, but it adds to damage.”

  “I moved on to second level in Shadowmancer. More power storage, spells have a little more oomph. It turns out I didn’t use all my points last time so I got Fletching high enough so I can repair arrows, got two points in Humanoid Lore, and took a point of Appraise so we should do better on prices. Jeff, you should get Haggle next level-up since you’re the face man.”

  “OK. We’re getting well-rounded,” the shop teacher observed. “Me as face-man, Fred as the outdoorsy type, Derek as the walking library.”

  “I’m going to get Creature Lore next time,” the Shadowmancer nodded. “Plus, now I can use scrolls, but I can’t make them. Shad, how did you do?”

  “Stayed with class. I can now make charms that act as armor, which is perfect because as usual we’re about to head out and I won’t have time to make them. I take a little less time to make a charm, too. I took Streetwise, and Apothecary.”

  “What are those?” Jeff asked.

  “Streetwise is basic spy skills-I thought it would be useful. Next level I can use runes, and Apothecary is a support skill for them. There’s two more support skills needed to use runes, so I had to burn a point in advance in order to be able to make them as soon as I get the ability.”

  “Damn, are runes worth it?”

  “Yeah, very much so. And by the way, somebody needs to pick up Etiquette next level. We need to work on blending in; the Wraiths aren’t going to be the only ones hunting us. The longer we’re here the bigger the chance of being spotted. Anyone know if the Five communicate with each other? Derek, make a note to keep our ears open for that.”

  “Speaking of picking things up, I need fletching tools,” Derekk observed. “Won’t take but a minute.”

  “I need to pick up some gear for toxin-making,” Jeff agreed. “But its simple stuff.”

  “Well, eat up and lets get after it. The road leads ever, ever on, except that we really don’t have a road to work with this time,” Shad sighed.

  “Are you sure this is the way?” Jeff asked Fred as the four trudged through a narrow pass between two low mountains which were part of a chain that reared tall to the distant north. “I’ve seen deer trails about this size. Plus this is the perfect place to get ambushed.”

  “Carthage is independent-not much land trade,” the barbarian shrugged. “What trade there is, travels by mule.”

  “You know, we’re seeing a world that only got a small taste of the Romans,” Shad observed. “And they hated the taste. The concept of all-weather, maintained roads seems to never really have caught on here.”

  “OK, so regardless of the time difference these guys have had at least as much history as we have, culture-wise,” Derek observed. “But they’re…sort of High Medieval with less feudalism. And have been for quite a while. How come?”

  “Well, the Roman Catholic Church saved the knowledge and culture of Europe during the Dark Ages, and served to hold things together during the Middle Ages,” Shad said reflectively. “Which they don’t have here. But with magic, a lot of driving forces are missing. They’ve got medical care almost equal to back home, the Dwarves have gotten indoor plumbing pretty well advanced, and sanitation is high, no real plagues. Maybe they don’t have the pressures that we did.”

  “There don’t seem to be any real wars-Goblins and Orcs raid, there’s been some conflicts that amount to skirmishing by our standards, but nothing serious,” Jeff pointed out. “Look at this area-two small power centers, and the rest are scattered independent communities. The Goblins and others raid, but not in any
systematic way or in any real numbers. I think what we are seeing is an entirely different philosophy, one that is more individualist than national.”

  “Could be.”

  “You notice all we do here is discuss our situation, prep, and travel?” Derek pointed out. “Just like Iraq.”

  “Keep that thought,” Shad grinned at the Shadowmancer.

  The narrow pass was indeed ideal for an ambush, and the four passed the skeletal remains of several mules or horses and a few hasty graves, but if any eyes were upon them they did not consider the four bravos worthy prey.

  With a minimal trail and perpetual slopes the going was not easy, but by early afternoon they emerged from the pass and began to cross a range of rolling foothills.

  The sky had been party cloudy when they set out, but as they entered the foothills the wind began to pick up and the sky darkened.

  “Rain coming,” Fred observed.

  “A brilliant use of your skills,” Jeff observed drily.

  The faint track they were following crested a hill and Fred, his bearskin back in place since they were out of town, dropped to a knee and raised a fist to shoulder height.

  The three following immediately halted; Derek nocked an arrow, Jeff cocked his crossbow, and Shad plucked a knife from his shield.

  Shad eased up alongside the barbarian. “What?” he whispered.

  Fred pointed, but Shad had already seen it: near the base of the low hill a man was slumped over a small chest. “Looks dead.”

  “Yeah.” Shad carefully scanned their surroundings. “See anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Circle around him and check his back trail, I’ll check him. You two,” The Jinxman hissed over his shoulder. “Cover.”

  Shield in position and a throwing knife in hand, Shad eased down the slope, trying to keep an eye on the man and everything around him at the same time, the infantryman’s eternal struggle for situational awareness.

  Fred had been right, he saw as he closed to within twenty feet: the man was dead. Closing with more confidence, he sheathed the knife and knelt to examine the corpse.