Quest Call

by Kirk Dougal

  I walked back to the group and climbed into my saddle, thoughts swirling around Card's message.

  “What was that all about, Wolf?” It was the first time DeBrest had called me by my new nickname, and I wondered if he was doing it to put me at ease so I would say more than I intended. I decided to stay within the game parameters and play it easy.

  “The Goddess Dziewona wants me to move faster to Farwolaeth and wished me good luck in my quest for knowledge,” I said.

  DeBrest stared at me, the silence stretching between us. He finally nodded his head.

  “I agree with that,” he said. “We can move more quickly now. We crossed into Bretonia when we came over that last rise. By tomorrow night, we'll be at the ruins of Breton.” He jerked his horse's head around and kicked the mount into a canter.

  I heard a laugh and turned to Pagul. His face was split by a wide grin, topped by a quick wink and nod of the head, both making me wonder if he knew exactly what the eagle had told me.

  Chapter 13

  The sun still had a couple of hours left to hang in the sky but the ruined city rejected the light, sitting in perpetual gloom beneath its gaze. Gray shadows melted into black, muting colors until I longed for a splash of color, any color. I winced at the thought, remembering that on the Long Night, the ground would have been covered with red as the people of Breton were killed.

  I was near enough to the rumbling wagon that I could see Spoon's face. His normal grin was absent, and so was the tilt of his head as he returned the look, the mischievous little boy twinkle dimmed in his eyes. He nodded to me, but then turned forward and stared over the heads of his cart’s horses, his face a stony mask.

  DeBrest, however, could barely contain himself. He had pushed the pace of the caravan over the past few days, at times riding far forward with only Pagul or sometimes Saleene as company. As they crested the final hill that sloped into the bowl-shaped valley and the remains of Breton sprawled before us, the duke had heeled his horse into a gallop that made Pagul strain to keep up, finally slowing after Saleene and Bree appeared near the shattered main gate to accompany the young man into the city.

  I swiveled in the saddle and glanced at the back of our remaining small group. Trellac rode at the end, a few paces behind the nearest man. He was too busy staring around the area to notice my watching and, for once, did not disappear when I looked away for a moment. He must have sensed the same weight hovering him that I felt. It was the remnants of death and the promise of more.

  “Where should we set up camp, Wolf?”

  Spoon's question brought me back to the issues at hand. “Is there a square? A large green of some sort?” I asked.

  The old man nodded. “In front of the gate to the keep. Prettiest piece of green and flowers you'd ever want to see. At least…” His voice trailed away.

  “Lead the way. That's as good a place as any to camp until we've heard different from DeBrest.”

  A little of the fire returned to Spoon's eyes as his head snapped around. “Duke DeBrest,” he said. “You'd be best off to remember the title when addressing a lord in his own manor, boy.” He shook the reins and the horses sped up to a trot, the wagon rattling over the undulating road.

  “He's right,” Trellac said. His voice surprised me, and my horse shied at the sudden pressure from my legs squeezing tight. The red-skinned man smiled but it was even drier than normal, as much a grimace as a grin. “The boy may think his quest is done now that he's made it this far and declare the city retaken. When Farwolaeth finds out, they'll kill him and everyone still around but no one ever accused revenge-fueled royalty of over thinking.”

  “I won't stay,” I said, staring at the mountains rising in the distance. “My path leads on to Farwolaeth.”

  “As does mine.” Trellac kicked his horse into a trot and left me staring at his back.

  *****

  Spoon and his two helpers were already unloading the wagon when I dismounted in front of the keep. I had to take the old man at his word when he called this area a pretty place. The ground was wasteland bare, not a blade of grass growing within sight. The handful of trees left standing were only skeletons of wood, barren limbs reaching out like bones, grasping for life and finding nothing to grab.

  Breton reminded me of the village we had seen where the Eaters attacked us. Years after the Long Night, the lost battle still remained in the death of everything that had once lived here. Smashed stones, scarred wood, and barren dirt—only echoes of life stirred the air. I wondered if there were any other survivors besides DeBrest and Spoon left to tell the tale of the city, to remember the lives of all who had been lost.

  I glanced up when Saleene and Bree walked out the keep gate.

  “Wolf, the duke wants to see us in the main hall,” Saleene said, her silver hair flying to the sides when she looked back and forth. “Where's our elusive traveling companion?”

  “Right here,” Trellac answered.

  He walked from behind the trunk of one of the dead trees. I noticed Bree take a step sideways, moving closer to the other woman while dropping a hand to the half-sword at her belt.

  “You, too, Trellac,” Saleene said, her voice even. “The duke wants to see us all.”

  The women led the way inside the royal keep. I did not think it was possible but the damage was even worse in here. Great sections of the wall were caved inward, piles of square-cut stones sprawling across the ground, most of them broken and missing pieces. I remembered Spoon's story about the night of the attack, and I searched for the section he had fallen beneath, protected until the servant woman found his broken body. But there were too many spots where the wall had collapsed inward leaving pockets of tenuous safety hidden in shadows.

  Saleene shook her head and mumbled, her voice so low I was not sure if the words were meant for all of us or just Bree.

  “Nothing. Nothing living, nothing growing. This place is a tomb.”

  “What kind of evil could keep it dead like this for so long?” Bree asked.

  “Spoon told me that on the Long Night, fire rained down from the sky,” I said. “In the morning, the air was filled with smoke and ash that blocked the sun for days.” We walked for a few more paces. “I don't know. Maybe the Farwolaethans salted the ground. Has anyone checked the water supply?”

  Saleene gestured to the right. “The river runs through a canal system over there. It was diverted within the city walls by one of DeBrest's kin when the city began to grow, and then rejoins the flow outside the main gates. When we scouted the city, we saw that it was still moving through but did not taste it.”

  “So the Farwolaethans didn't bother to dam it,” Trellac said. “They knew they could take Breton without a siege.”

  We rounded a curving street and entered an open doorway, the wooden frame burned to the metal hinges. Saleene and Bree led us down a wide hallway, one side open to the outside where windows had once been placed. I imagined the walls covered with tapestries detailing family tales and legends of the country hanging from its surface. Portraits of the line of dukes would have been there as well, perhaps even some of the duchesses. Depending upon the family's tastes, there might have been ceramic vases or hand-hewn sculptures.

  Now, whatever had adorned the Bear Killer's keep was ash strewn all over the floor.

  We walked into a great hall, huge columns lining each side. Shafts of dim sunlight fought through two openings in the ceiling, matching the pillar of light coming through an octagonal opening, handfuls of grimy stained glass clinging to the rotten sills. At the far end, back lit by the light, stood DeBrest. His hand rested on the side of a massive throne, the back towering over his head. Pagul stood behind him.

  “It's time you all knew where we're going,” he said. “After Spoon told me the story of my true family, we traveled to the mountain monastery of the Zetyn monks. They pride themselves on the gathering of knowledge from all the known lands. There, I was shown a map. It told of a land beyond the end of the White Mountains where thr
ee peaks rise in a semi-circle in the middle of a vast plain. The area in the middle was labeled Dinas Farwolaeth.”

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  “Castle of Death.” Pagul grinned as he answered.

  “I'm sure that's just an exaggeration,” Saleene said, which drew a roll of the eyes from Bree.

  “Name or no name, that's where we're going,” DeBrest said. He let his hand fall slowly, fingertips caressing the throne. “I will not sit on my birthright or wear the royal ring until I've avenged my family.” He glanced back up. “We'll rest here tomorrow before we push forward the day after.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised his hand, cutting my words short.

  “We stay here for a day. We must wait for the rest of our companions.” DeBrest turned and disappeared through a doorway behind the throne, Pagul close on his heels.

  Chapter 14

  Anger over the delay fueled my steps after DeBrest disappeared, which resulted in my pacing through the ruined streets of Breton for hours. When I finally returned to camp, Pagul was already at his normal spot by the wagon, the avatar motionless with his player out of the game. I assumed DeBrest was the same under the canvas cover.

  I found Saleene and Bree a short walk from the rest of the group. They were also on standby, Saleene leaning against part of the keep's ruined wall, with Bree near her feet, one hand reaching for the other woman. They were frozen in place like an antique postcard snapshot I had seen one time in a friend's collection. It had depicted a scene from a city, maybe New York but I could not remember now, with people halted in mid-step in the course of their busy lives. That was the way the two women appeared now, trapped in that moment when they left the game. Seeing the way Bree was looking up, her hand moving close, I wondered about the dynamic of their relationship.

  I never located Trellac. Wherever he went before checking out of the game, I had never been able to find his avatar in his absence. The thought suddenly hit me that Trellac may not be on the outside, that he may be a sleeper with a peep watching over his body in the real world. For a moment, I felt a kinship with the red-skinned man, someone who could relate to how I felt inside the games. But that feeling quickly evaporated and my suspicions settled in again. If there really was a meeting for the terrorists at Farwolaeth, at least some of them might be sleepers, staying inside to protect their rendezvous point. With his knowledge of the forgotten city, perhaps he was a spy sent out to warn others of an impending attack or he was on a journey to join them. Either way, I needed to keep an even closer eye on him while we approached Dinas Farwolaeth.

  The morning was a promise of pink on the horizon, shafts of light shooting above the jagged tops of ruined buildings when I finally settled onto the ground near Spoon. He had fallen into his programmed routine after everyone else wandered off for sleep. I had grown accustomed to watching him swirling the long-handled utensil through the pot every night after I joined the group, the wood scraping the sides from time to time and breaking up the woodland sounds. Maybe that was why I noticed the change right away. There were no bird calls or creaking limbs to mask the silence in the camp.

  My hand fell to the sword lying on the ground at my side as my eyes snapped open. “What's wrong?”

  Spoon stared toward the wagon, his hand pausing above the still swirling liquid inside, the stirring a forgotten action.

  “He's going to need help, you know.” He turned to face me.

  “DeBrest?”

  Spoon nodded. “The duke will need help to make right what happened here. Good men died trying to defend their ways of life. Women, children…they all need to have someone to remember what happened, to remember them.” He glanced down at the spoon and flinched, realizing he had stopped cooking but not starting again. “You should relate to that, Wolf. A Searcher is supposed to find the answers to make things right.”

  I blinked in surprise. I thought I knew what level of sophistication the programmers had put into Quest Call, a game I had assumed was mostly inhabited by gamers living out their fantasies of hacking and slashing their ways to riches, power, whatever goals they lusted after. But this computer construct was showing real nuances of understanding the people around him. It was an impressive use of AI that I had not expected to find.

  “I'm sorry, Spoon,” I said. “I've got my own reasons for going to Farwolaeth. A lot of people are depending on me.”

  He laughed. “Just like a lot of people are depending on my breakfast being ready in a little while when they roll out of bed.” He grabbed the handle with two hands and stepped closer to the pot. But again, Spoon hesitated. “I think you're that help, Wolf. I know you've got your own duties, but they're not for you. You serve other people and not just yourself. You're not like these others, the ones who are here only to watch out for themselves. He'll need you because he won't be able to count on the one that watches all the time once the blood and guts start flying or those who only think of gold. They'll only think of themselves then. They don't think I know they're watching…”

  The two kitchen helpers walked toward the fire, and Spoon stopped talking to me. He growled orders, and the boys scurried to their duties, our conversation forgotten by him.

  But not by me. I rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head to try and get a little rest before the rest of camp awoke. But as I drifted off, my thoughts returned to Trellac and the remaining trip to Farwolaeth.

  Chapter 15

  Murmuring voices chased away dreams of fire raining from the sky and Trellac dancing over bodies engulfed in flames. As sleep receded farther into the background, the sounds coalesced into words.

  “…hate it inside these walls,” Saleene said. “I feel trapped here.”

  “It's only for a day.” Bree's voice was low and smooth, like the surface of an undisturbed lake. I felt the calm wash over me. “We can put up with it for that long.”

  “I'm just ready to get there,” Saleene said. “Get our part done and go back home.”

  I pushed the blanket away from my head, and the two women fell silent. Bree attacked whatever Spoon had made for breakfast, shoving three quick bites into her mouth. Saleene, however, stared at me for a few seconds, her eyes narrowing in challenge.

  “Better eat something quick,” Bree said, wiping the food that escaped her mouth from her chin with a sleeve. “The duke wants us to scout through the city to make sure there's no one around.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the wagon. The back was open and Pagul was also missing from his spot.

  “Where'd they go?”

  “Don't know.” Bree took another bite. “He grabbed Pagul and Trellac and went north. Said they had to meet some friends.”

  Saleene stood. “We can leave as soon as you're ready.”

  Bree coughed on her food while I wondered if there was a double meaning to the other woman's words. I rolled to my feet and walked to Spoon.

  “`Bout time you made an appearance, Wolf. I was starting to think you were turning into one of those night creatures that only come out after the sun's down.” He laughed as he handed me bread sandwiched around some meat he ladled from the pot. “I won't bother giving you a bowl,” he said, his grin growing wider. “Looks to me like some of your friends are ready to get on the move.”

  I glanced back at Saleene and Bree and noticed they were already packing on their weapons and stringing bows for the scouting trip.

  “We're going through the city to see what we can find,” I said, nodding my head in thanks. “I imagine we won't be back until late.”

  Spoon stepped closer and softened his voice.

  “If somebody asked me, I'd say to look through the lower levels of the keep to see what survived the Long Night.” He stepped back. “But nobody's asking.”

  *****

  Breton was too big for only three people to search thoroughly in one day. So we settled on a pattern of wandering down deserted streets, choosing random buildings to enter and search as we moved along. Otherwise, we
stayed in the open as much as possible, daring anyone who was watching to attack. It was a dangerous game to play, using ourselves as bait, but the method fit the grimness of the city. It also matched Saleene's mood.

  Despite the gray pall hanging over Breton, and the dizzying maze of streets passing by half-burned buildings that had fallen in on themselves during the succeeding years, the day was uneventful. I startled a rat that was nearly as tall as my knee at one point, but the only thing hurt in the encounter was my pride as I jumped backwards and almost fell in my hurry to put distance between us. Bree barely missed being hit by the remains of a falling rafter in one decrepit old structure, the beam bouncing off the floor only a pace away and throwing a cloud of dust in her face. Even Saleene had a small run in with the city when a footbridge over a winding branch of the diverted river creaked, groaned, and then collapsed with her still too far to jump to the other side. She splashed down in water that rose to her thighs, but she quickly clambered up on the far bank. Bree and I had to find another way across, walking down the street for a hundred yards with Saleene mirroring us on the opposite side until we found a building that had collapsed across the flow. We scrambled over the last of the old roof and breathed a sigh of relief when our boots were on solid ground again.

  But that was all the excitement we encountered. The rest of the time was spent in relative silence. Saleene was still in no mood to talk, but the city pressed down on Bree and I, as well, the gray skies above blackened and rotting buildings leaving us with the weight of what had happened on the Long Night. Our tongues did not fight that oppression and remained quiet unless speaking was necessary for our search.