Critical Failures VI (Caverns and Creatures Book 6)

by Robert Bevan

  “I didn't –”

  “I hope you do.” The woman looked at the half-elf. “As in, I hope you do rise up and get out of the loo, so I can be alone to play with my royal scepter.”

  “Of all the –” The half elf glared up at Julian again. “That settles it. I'm staying until you've finished.”

  “Me too,” said the woman. “We'll see how long he can hold out.”

  “That's fine!” said Julian. “You can stay here all day. I don't even have to –”

  “Would you mind telling me what –” Darton stomped into the bathroom with a whirlwind of attitude, then abruptly stopped when he saw the two other occupants of the bathroom shitting side by side. “Oh, I beg your pardon.” He stepped up to the trough next to Julian and began hitching up his robe. “What's the meaning of showing off your...” he glanced at the others, then spoke more quietly. “...thing like that?”

  “I'm trying to pee!”

  Darton rolled his eyes. “Not that thing. The other thing. In the restaurant.”

  “Oh, right. I was trying to get a reaction from Al–” Julian supposed he should be following Darton's lead of giving away as few details as possible to listening ears. “I mean, from your associate. I was doing reconnaissance, just like we talked about.”

  “You were calling attention to yourself, and to your... thing.”

  “He's been doing that since he came in here,” said the old half-elf.

  The red-haired woman harrumphed. “It didn't look all that attention worthy to me, even for an elf.”

  Julian ignored them. “I was doing fine.”

  “How was that fine?” asked Darton. “He had your thing in his hand! I'm not sure you understand how precious a thing that is.”

  “This is getting weird now,” said the half-elf. “I think I'll leave them to it.”

  “I had his thing in my hand as well. We were quietly holding each other's things, not calling any attention to ourselves, until you barged in and started gawking at my thing and asking to hold it. That's when people started looking at us.”

  “I believe I'll join you,” said the red-haired woman. She and the half-elf reached between their legs and said an incantation, which Julian assumed must have been a Wipe spell, because they let their robes drop down and didn't even wash their hands in the waterfall before exiting the bathroom.

  “Did they say they were carrying on like that here in the restaurant?” the half-elf asked once they were out of the bathroom, apparently forgetting that elves have an extremely keen sense of hearing.

  “That's the problem with young people today,” said the red-haired woman. “You live such a debaucherous lifestyle long enough, and you need to start stroking each other off in public just to get aroused anymore.”

  “Have you ever...”

  “Absolutely not! Have you?”

  “There's an empty table over there. We could...”

  “Let's go.”

  “Julian!” said Darton.

  Julian focused back on the conversation inside the bathroom. “What?”

  “I'm sorry for not trusting your instincts. You did well. We'll discuss what you've learned when we reconvene in my –”

  “That's him,” said one of two large men wearing plain grey robes as they burst into the bathroom. They were dressed like wizards, but they had builds more suited to barbarian or fighter classes.

  Julian didn't know whether it was him or Darton they were talking about, but he suddenly felt like he might actually have to pee.

  “Is your name Darton of Wineridge?” asked the other impressively large wizard.

  Julian let out a silent sigh of relief. Sucks for Darton, but Julian had little doubt he was reaping what he'd sown.

  Darton hesitated for a second, like he was considering lying about his identity, but then reconsidered. “Yes.”

  “We need you to come with us.”

  “And who, exactly, are you?”

  “I'm Constable Marlowe, and this is Constable Frumm. We're on the Crescent Shadow Council of Justice.”

  “May I ask what this is about?”

  “You're wanted for questioning in the murder of a Professor Slugbow Von Hottenvalt.”

  “Slugbow?” Darton gasped. “Slugbow's dead? And you think that I had something to do with it? That's preposterous! I barely knew the man.”

  Constable Frumm sneered. “And that's why you're on a first-name basis.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “You can be, if you like,” said Constable Marlowe. “It's been a while since I've had to use my Tranquility Stick.” He pulled a black steel club crackling with electric purple energy from a sheath on his belt. It looked anything but tranquil.

  “That won't be necessary.” Darton turned to Julian, who had hoped to remain known as just a guy taking a piss in the wrong place at the wrong time, and not an associate of a murder suspect. “Julian, you and Stacy can wait in my room. This is a misunderstanding which shouldn't take too long to clear up.”

  Not only did Darton acknowledge that he knew them, but he'd said their names as well. Awesome.

  The two constables eyed Julian suspiciously, and the pee finally started flowing.

  “Come on, then,” said Darton. “Let's get this over with.”

  Constable Marlowe led the way out of the bathroom, followed by Darton. Constable Frumm took the rear, his hand on the handle of his Tranquility Stick. Julian imagined he was looking for a reason to use it.

  Julian rinsed his hands in the waterfall, then wiped them dry on his robe. No, Darton's robe. He felt a sudden urgency to change back into his own clothes.

  He walked briskly out of the bathroom and back to his table,thankful to find Stacy still there.

  “Where the hell have you been?” asked Stacy.

  “Bathroom.”

  “Wow.” She licked pheasant grease off her fingers. “It's been a while. I guess I'd better let it air out a bit before I go in.”

  “Did you see Darton?”

  Stacy glanced at Darton's unoccupied table. “No. I was starving. You've seriously got to try this pheasant.”

  “I'm good for now, thanks.”

  “How'd it go with that Aleric guy?”

  Julian shrugged. “Not great, not terrible. We both tried to con the other into selling our die.”

  “Do you think that's information we can work with?"

  “I think we need to cut our losses and get the hell out of here.” He leaned in closer to Stacy and whispered, “Darton was just hauled off as a murder suspect.”

  Stacy's eyes went wide as she bit into a side of her bird. “Are you fucking with me?” she asked with a mouth full of pheasant meat.

  “No,” said Julian. “And he blabbed our names to the cops, as well as the fact that we're staying in his room.”

  “Who got murdered?”

  “Nobody we know, thank God. Sluggo Von Hufflepuff or something like that.”

  “That can't be right. That sounds like a bullshit name.”

  “It is a bullshit name. I said it was something like that. I was afraid I was going to be arrested. It's not like I was taking notes. I knew that guy was bad news.”

  Stacy's expression turned more serious as she swallowed her pheasant meat. “Wait a minute. You've still got the die, don't you?”

  “Yeah.” Julian pulled his robe back to show the chain.

  “Give it here. No offense, but I feel more secure having it where I can feel and make sure it's there.”

  “With pleasure.” It was more responsibility than Julian wanted. He slipped the chain over his head and handed over the pendant.

  Stacy wore the chain around her neck, tucking the pendant under her borrowed robe. “Any idea on how we might get off this island?”

  “First we need to stop in Darton's room.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to get my own clothes back on, and I have it on good authority that you're going to need a bathroom really soon.”

  Cha
pter 30

  Katherine watched the predawn light spawning on the eastern horizon. She had a nice view from the captain's quarters, where she and Captain Longfellow had passed out over shots of rum the night before. She was stiff and crampy from sleeping with her face on her arms on a hard wooden table while sitting on a hard wooden chair, but at least she'd slept, which she doubted she'd have been able to do in a cramped cabin full of rapists.

  She still hadn't quite gotten her tolerance back up to her pre-vampire levels, so the rum had put her down relatively early. Judging by the lack of wolf bites on him, Captain Longfellow had been a gentleman as he continued drinking alone. With his feet up on the table next to his nearly empty rum bottle and one arm hanging over the back of his chair, he appeared positively comfortable as he snored away the early morning hours.

  By the light of a half-melted candle, Katherine prepared her spells for the day. As she focused on the flame, her options became clear in her mind. For her zero level spells, she chose a Purify Food and Water, because some of the sea creatures people were reeling in the previous day had looked kind of nasty, and it could never hurt to have the means to make seawater potable. And she chose three Mending spells because she'd seen a few nets, fishing rods, and miscellaneous other things on the boat that could use a touch of repair. First level spells were also easy to choose. A Magic Fang to assist Butterbean in the event that she needed some extra protection from any ne'er-do-wells aboard the boat, and a Speak With Animals so that she could get in a little talk with him if time allowed.

  She spent a little more time reviewing her Level 2 spell options, as they were still new to her. A lot of them had cooler effects than what any of the Level 1 spells could offer. But there were also a couple of duds, such as one spell which would allow her to take the form of a tree for a few hours. There were precious few circumstances where that would be useful, and even then it would be boring as shit.

  One spell she considered choosing would temporarily increase her Strength score by four points. She wondered if that would make her as strong as she'd been when she was a vampire. She might wait until she got back on land to try that one out. She'd want to punch something, and all the punchable things around here belonged to Captain Longfellow.

  Sorting through the options in her mind a bit more, she discovered one more spell which would mimic another one of her lost vampire powers. Spider Climb, as it was called, would allow her to climb up walls and even crawl along ceilings with ease. She remembered scaling the parking garage of the Beauregard Casino Resort, and how awesome that had felt. Here on a boat she might be able to make use of such a spell to climb the mast or rigging if one of the crewmen needed a hand with something. But if she was being honest with herself, she didn't really give a shit about helping the crewmen. Climbing the masts and riggings just sounded like a lot of fun. How many more times would she get to ride on an old-timey boat like this?

  When she finished preparing her spells, it was light enough to see the main deck more clearly throught the dusty windows. She was far from the only one to be getting an early start on the day.

  Passengers lined the sides and rear of the boat as it rocked gently on the calm sea. They all had lines in the water. Katherine supposed that she also bore some of the responsibility for pulling in some fish, but it was pretty crowded down there. She'd drop a line when it thinned out a little.

  It was still too dark to distinguish anyone at that distance, but Katherine tried to see if she could make out the shapes of Randy, Alexei, Denise, or the man she was trying to trick into raping her. She spotted a couple of maybes, but no one she was certain of.

  Finally, the top sliver of golden sun peeked over the glittering liquid horizon. It was magnificent. As far as reasons to be grateful to no longer be a vampire, this came a close second to the ability to get shitfaced.

  The Hallmark card perfection of the scene lasted only a moment. When the sun was about a quarter of the way exposed, something else appeared on the horizon right next to it. Something tiny, but jarring and off-putting, like a fly in a bowl of white soup.

  Katherine couldn't hear what anyone was saying through the windows and from as high up as she was, but the speck had caused some commotion at the rear of the boat. Some people grabbed their neighbors by the shoulder and pointed at the black speck on the horizon, while others frantically reeled in their lines. The commotion spread like wildfire up both sides of the boat, finally producing a sound that Katherine could hear.

  It was like a cross between a church bell and a cowbell. It brought Captain Longfellow out of his deep snore-filled slumber like a cattle prod up the ass.

  “What is it? What's happening?”

  His little monkey shrieked, jumping up and down on the table and pointing out at the blemish on the horizon. Clever little thing.

  “There's something out there,” said Katherine, hoping that everyone was making a huge deal out of nothing, but fearing that wasn't the case. “Maybe a tiny uncharted island? Or a humpback whale?”

  Captain Longfellow peered through the window. “That be no whale, Miss Katherine. Lord Shitflinger! Fetch me spyglass!”

  Lord Shitflinger! was an interjection which Katherine had been unfamiliar with until now, but she liked the sound of it, and thought she might start using it. As for the captain's other exclamation, how the hell was she supposed to know where the hell his spyglass was, or even what it was?

  When the monkey, which had inexplicably launched itself from the table onto a shelf cluttered with junk, returned with a polished cherrywood tube with a glass lens mounted with brass at both ends, much of Katherine's confusion was resolved. But after she parted ways with the people on this boat, she thought she'd probably still use Lord Shitflinger! as an interjection.

  Captain Longfellow extended his shitty primitive telescope and squinted through the eyepiece. “Aye, just as I thought. Kastiglian raiders.” He looked Katherine up and down, which worried her due to its distinct lack of perviness. “How well can you handle a sword?” Again, Katherine felt a deep sense of anxiety in the pit of her stomach from the lack of innuendo in his voice.

  “I'm better with a scythe.”

  “Gods have mercy, some folks should never leave the shore. We'll not be boarded by stalks of wheat!”

  “It's a legitimate weapon. I can fight fine.”

  “Aye, I have no doubt ye do a fine job keeping wild dogs and pigs away from yer flock of sheep, but when it comes to fighting, the deck of a ship is no place for a farming lass.”

  “I am not a goddamn farmer!” said Katherine. “I could kick your jolly rogered ass! You wanna go?” She put up her fists, feeling only a little ridiculous due to all the adrenaline pumping through her.

  Captain Longfellow grinned and winked. “Maybe after. Now stay here and don't touch anything.” Before Katherine could tell him to go fuck himself, he was out the door and halfway down the ladder.

  Katherine folded her arms. “What an asshole.”

  Lord Shitflinger screeched angrily.

  “Good. I hope you do tell him. And you can tell him I hope they cut his dick off, too.” She turned away from the monkey and squinted out the window. The approaching boat was now so close, she could identify it as a boat without the aid of a spyglass.

  At the front and rear of the Maiden's Voyage, crewmen were distributing rusty short-bladed swords from barrels to all the passengers. Considering how crowded it was on deck now, and how much more so it would be once a boatload of pirates hopped on board, Katherine could see how short blades might be more effective in these circumstances than a scythe, which required a bit of room to properly wield. But that didn't make him any less of a dick for talking down to her like that.

  Once the men, and a not unsubstantial number of women, were armed, they were directed to their positions. Many were ordered to stay on the front and rear decks, while others were sent to man the cabin tiers, standing on ladder rungs, holding the ladders with one hand and swords in the other.

&nb
sp; Seeing the women being given combat responsibilities further infuriated Katherine. This wasn't some backwards-ass sexist thing. Captain Longfellow had singled her out in particular as being too ill-suited to fight. After fuming about it for a moment, she considered that she might have grown on him during last night's drinking session, and he was simply trying to spare her. If she could accidentally woo Captain Righteous, it wasn't out of the question that this lonely old sea dog might have become smitten with her.

  But that theory only made her feel shittier. How was it going to look when the swords stopped clanging and the blood stopped flowing, and she'd spent the whole time watching the carnage from above in the captain's quarters like some prized piece of treasure or... booty.

  That wouldn't do at all. She was no man's booty. At least, she refused to be defined as such. Then again, maybe Captain Longfellow had a point. She would be a liability, getting in the way of people who knew far better than her how to fight aboard a ship. He was the captain, after all. And on a ship, one obeys the captain's orders. Katherine tried to make herself believe that this secondary line of reasoning had nothing to do with the sleek and intimidating black boat slicing through the water in a trajectory to put it right alongside the Maiden's Voyage. Black sails jutted out from either side, stretched between long poles, like the pectoral fins of a deformed blowfish.

  The Maiden's Voyage had similarly styled sails, which were currently being extended and expanded for what little good it was going to do them, but they weren't nearly as aesthetically thought out as the other boat's sails. They were made of plain brown canvas like one might find stretched over the top of any covered wagon. No dragons, no flames, no threatening slogans or mottoes. Purely utilitarian, like the rest of the boat. Having sailed all of the previous day, Katherine knew what speed the Maiden's Voyage's sails were capable of, and it wasn't anywhere close to the speed the black boat was currently moving. She thought it was a little sad that they were even making the effort.

  The black boat was about half the size of the Maiden's Voyage, and it looked to only have about a quarter of the amount of people on board, but those people looked like badasses. Their bodies were covered in muscles, scars, and tattoos. Katherine wanted to count the fact that approximately a third of them were missing limbs as a disadvantage for their side, but she knew in her heart that the fighting skills they'd acquired leading up to those losses, and the recklessness with which they were still prepared to sail into combat, probably counted as more of an advantage, especially considering that most of those who had lost arms had replaced them with sharpened steel prostheses.