Critical Failures VII

by Robert Bevan

  “And all those who were in the mithril mines when the ice and snow melted so suddenly?”

  “Oh, shit. Are they okay?”

  “Their bloated corpses, as they float to the surface, are all we've had to sustain ourselves since our mother's disappearance.”

  “Ew,” said Katherine instinctively. “I mean, sorry.”

  Food and Mordred storage were definitely going to be problems.

  “Surely you could have chopped some of them up to use as bait,” said Tanner, drawing horrified looks from both parties. It was a practical suggestion, if not a particularly sensitive one.

  The rest of the islanders readied their sticks, then closed in on Katherine and her group.

  “I have grown fond of the taste of half-elf,” said a sunburned shirtless half-elf, licking his lips and staring hungrily at Tanner. “And it's time I enjoyed some fresher meat.”

  Katherine drew her sword, but kept from pointing it at anyone just yet. “That's really disturbing. And I'm not just saying that because my friend and I are half-elves, but more so because you are.”

  “She's right,” said Tony the Elf, machetes in hand. “Look at yourselves. Think about the people you were before you came to this island. We've got a boat right there.” He nodded back to Nightwind. “We can take you back to your families. You can live productive lives, and you won't have to eat people.”

  Katherine appreciated Tony the Elf's effort at reasoning with them, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. The islanders moved in closer, all of them looking like they sincerely wanted to eat people.

  “Fuck this,” said Rhonda. “Magic Missile.” Two bolts of golden magical energy flew out of her open palm and struck the dwarf in his bare chest, leaving gaping fleshy holes when they exploded.

  The dwarf collapsed dead in the sand. But if Rhonda had hoped to send the others running by taking out their leader, she had misjudged them.

  The remaining islanders lunged toward them, screaming and thrusting their sharpened sticks.

  Katherine fought on autopilot, taking neither joy nor satisfaction in her kills or the gracefulness with which she wielded her new sword. These people weren't mindless zombies, at least not literally. They wouldn't even be her enemies but for an extremely fucked-up set of circumstances.

  It was a completely one-sided fight. Working in the mines may have strengthened the islanders' bodies, but not enough to make up for what they appeared to lack in combat training or overall health. A strict diet of their decomposing former coworkers hadn't done them any favors as Tanner, Katherine, Butterbean, Tony the Elf, and his dog took them down like stalks of wheat, while Rhonda kept her distance and employed the less conventional harvesting method of shooting them. When the massacre was finished, she and her friends were heavily splattered with blood, though Katherine was confident that very little of it was their own.

  She surveyed the slaughter, thinking back on how cool and smug she'd felt returning to Nightwind after single-handedly incapacitating Seastalker. She didn't feel anything like that now. Instead, she felt like she wanted to throw up. This must be the downside of leadership. But it shouldn't have been. This was stupid. Why the hell hadn't they just surrendered? Fucking assholes.

  “I'm sorry,” said Rhonda. “I thought that if I –”

  “You did the right thing,” said Katherine. “They didn't leave us any choice. They were too far gone.”

  Tanner frowned at the mass of dead bodies on the beach. “I know the bait idea didn't go down well with these folks, but it still might be –”

  “We're burying the bodies,” said Katherine. “All of them.” While she didn't feel guilty about doing what she had to do to defend herself and her friends, she felt they had suffered enough in life, and deserved to at least be put to rest with dignity.

  After they'd all scrubbed off as much blood as they could with damp sand, Katherine had the others help her put the bodies into the Bag of Holding.

  “I thought we were burying them,” said Tony the Elf as he struggled to lift one of the human bodies by the upper arms.

  Katherine slid the lip of the bag under the dead man's feet, then began to pull it up his legs. “The bag will keep them preserved until we have time to look for a suitable burial spot. We've got a lot of things to take care of in the meantime, and we don't need them to start stinking up the whole island any worse than it already is.”

  “You'll get no argument from me.”

  When the last of the bodies were bagged, Katherine rolled up the Bag of Holding and tucked it into the back of her jeans. “I'll go back for another load of passengers while we've still got a little bit of light.”

  “Take a rest,” said Tanner. “I'll take the boat out.”

  Katherine felt like she could fall asleep right there in the blood-stained sand. She smiled at Tanner. “Thanks.”

  Tanner peered out toward Nightwind. “I don't know if they are close enough to have seen what happened here. Should I tell them?”

  “You can if you want. If you don't tell them, I will as they arrive. We did what we had to do, and there's no point in keeping it a secret. It's better that we're all prepared for anyone or anything else that may be out there.”

  Chapter 24

  “What the fuck are you doin', Randy?” said Denise. “We ain't got a second to waste.”

  Having found a quill pen and a piece of paper under the bar, Randy stood up. “It's bad enough we're abandoning our post. It's just plain rude to not leave a note.” He dipped the quill in the ink, then spoke as he scrawled sloppy letters on the paper. “To who it may concern. Me and Denise had an unexpected visitor. He had information we felt it necessary to pursue. We are headed to –”

  “Don't you tell nobody where the fuck we're going! We got no idea who's gonna find that note.”

  Jay nodded. “I agree with Denise.”

  Randy looked down at his paper again, hoping to find a way to change course without crossing out any of what he'd already written. His handwriting here was so much nicer here than how he wrote back on Earth, and it would be a shame to sully the letter with a bunch of messy scribbling. He had an idea and continued writing. “We are headed to pursue it.”

  “That's fuckin' beautiful, William Shitspear,” said Denise. “Can we get moving now?”

  Randy continued writing to close out his letter. “Lots of love, and I hope this letter finds you well. We hope to return with good news. Sincerely, Randy.” He placed a heavy glass on one corner to keep it weighed down on the bar where it would be easy to find. “Okay. I'm ready now.”

  Before closing the door, he took one last look inside the empty inn which had been his home since he arrived in this world. In spite of the smell, he felt more fondly for this place than any home he'd ever lived in. He hoped to return soon, and find it filled again with all his new friends.

  The walk to the harbor seemed to take forever. Denise's condition had advanced in the past few days to the point where she looked like she'd swallowed half a dozen bowling balls, and walking had become a chore. But as slow as she was, Randy felt that calling a celestial basilisk to carry her through the middle of a crowded city would only slow them down more.

  “Just a little bit further,” said Randy encouragingly. “Ain't more than two or three miles to go.”

  Denise scratched her stubbly neck. “I'm fine. Just a little hungry is all. You reckon we got time to grab something to eat before we set sail?”

  “We gotta find a ship headed for Hollin first. Once we figure out when it's leaving, we'll have a better idea of how much time we got to get some food and other provisions.”

  “I don't know how either one of you can think about food right now,” said Jay, looking around at the shops and restaurants they passed with disdain showing clearly on his face. “This place is a dump. I've been surviving for weeks on rats, and I'd still be wary about eating anything that came out of any of these places.”

  Randy was surprised at Jay's reaction to the city. He
'd been overwhelmed with awe by all the quaint old-timey buildings and little hints of magic everywhere he looked. But looking around now, in the specific part of town they were in, he could see Jay's point.

  “The city's been through some trying times lately,” said Randy. “They're still in the process of rebuilding. There are some nicer parts of town a little farther away from the harbor.” He wondered how his self-professed 'disciples' were doing. Were they still building bakeries for opportunistic land grabbers? Had they moved on to more productive ways of spreading the Good News? He hoped that they had at least remained together and not fallen back into the old ways that landed them in the prison where he met them.

  Jay sniffed the air. “I just hope we're getting near the harbor, or else I don't even want to know where that fish smell is coming from.”

  “It's just over this hill,” said Randy. “You keep walking with Denise. I'll run ahead and see if I can find a ship headed for Hollin.”

  After asking for directions to the harbormaster, Randy entered an unassuming little wooden shack at the end of a short pier.

  “Arriving or departing?” asked the weary-eyed half-orc behind the rough wooden counter.

  “Me and two friends would like to book passage to Hollin.”

  The harbormaster's heavy eyelids rose when he looked at Randy as if he'd just noticed he was there. “Hollin?”

  Randy frowned, wondering if he'd pronounced it wrong. “That's right. Hollin is a city across the sea, ain't it?”

  The harbormaster let out a hollow chuckle. “Who can say by now? There have been reports of some kind of political upheaval in Hollin, in case you have not heard. Trust me, boy. You do not want to visit Hollin right now.”

  “It ain't so much that we want to,” said Randy. “We have an urgent matter of business to attend to there.”

  “Then I'm afraid you'll have to swim. No ship out of this harbor is sailing for Hollin until things settle down.” The harbormaster turned around to scan a map on the wall behind him. “The closest port I can get you to is Lymn.”

  “And how far away from Hollin is that?”

  The harbormaster rubbed his chin as he stared at his map. “It is hard to say. As the raven flies, it seems to be only a two or three-day journey on foot. But there doesn't appear to be a road between them, at least not according to this map. I've never been that way myself.”

  Two or three days didn't sound too bad. “I reckon that'll do. Do you know when the ship leaves?”

  “I do not. You can ask the captain yourself. Pier 12. Captain Longfellow of the Maiden's Voyage.”

  Randy laughed. “Are you serious?”

  The harbormaster frowned. “I see you've made Captain Longfellow's acquaintance before.”

  “Sure have,” said Randy. “Weren't that long ago neither.”

  “Then perhaps you can understand why he's the only one mad enough to go anywhere near Hollin during this turbulent time.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir.” Randy left the harbormaster's office with a smile on his face. Wouldn't Captain Longfellow be surprised to see him. He was actually looking forward to reuniting with that salty old sea dog.

  He recognized the tiered cabins of the Maiden's Voyage before he found the sign for Pier 12. And sure enough, he heard the captain shouting orders and insults at his crew before he caught sight of him.

  “Watch where yer going with that thing! Damage me cargo, and I'll be shipping pieces of you to all of your possible fathers and yer sperm jar of a mother as well! You there! Where'd ye learn to tie a knot? That sorry excuse for a twist o' twine wouldn't even secure yer sister's cock betwixt her syphilitic legs. What be ye looking at? Get yer fist-stretched arse on the move before I shove me –” His eyes widened as his gaze met Randy's. “Mercy of the gods! How in the Seven Hells did you manage to make your way back here?”

  “Little bit of faith. Little bit of luck. Little bit of help from my friends. Permission to board, Captain?”

  Captain Longfellow laughed. “Aye, permission granted.”

  Randy bounced along the plank connecting the pier to the ship, and Captain Longfellow grabbed his wrist to assist him on board.

  “I take it ye didn't make it to Nazere, then?”

  “No, we was there.”

  “Horsecock!”

  Randy raised his right hand. “I swear by the New God.”

  Captain Longfellow forced Randy's hand down and leaned in to whisper. “None of that, now. Seafaring folk carry with them the gods of their homelands. Best not to chum those waters.” He stood straight again and raised his voice. “Now, where's that big lizard of yours?”

  Two of his nearby crewmen snorted.

  Captain Longfellow turned around to give them a sharp glare. “When I want to see a man's cock, I don't mince me words. Now back to work with ye!” He turned back to Randy.

  “Basil didn't exactly survive the trip.”

  Captain Longfellow removed his hat and placed it over his chest. “Ye have me deepest condolences, friend.”

  “That's real kind of you, but he's doing okay now.”

  “Is he?” Captain Longfellow squinted at Randy, then put his hat back on. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company once again?”

  “I understand you're headed to Lymn.”

  “I am. Have you business in Lymn?”

  “Not exactly. My friends and I is tryin' to get to Hollin, but the harbormaster said Lymn's as near a destination as anyone's going.”

  “Too right it is. Mercy of the gods, ye damned fool! If it's death ye seek, I can shove a flaming scimitar up yer arsehole.”

  “I would prefer you didn't do that, thank you.”

  “Will it be the same three of ye again?”

  “It'll be me and Denise again, but Katherine had to sail back to Nazere.”

  Captain Longfellow rolled his eyes. “Of course she did. So who be the third you wish to take aboard me ship? And please don't tell me it be some rabid owlbear.”

  “No, he's a colored feller we just met.”

  “Colored feller?” asked Captain Longfellow. “I'm afraid I don't catch yer meaning.”

  “I'm sorry. I meant African American.”

  Captain Longfellow stared at Randy for a moment. “Very well. I shall have yer quarters cleaned out. We set sail as soon as the sun dips below the horizon.”

  The sun was currently high in the midday sky. Randy bade Captain Longfellow farewell for now and hurried back to tell Denise and Jay that they had plenty of time to eat before their trip.

  “Ain't nothin' racist about it,” Denise was saying to Jay as Randy came within earshot. “When you take into account all the shit my people have achieved while yours was chuckin' spears in the jungle, it's really more racist not to have a White Appreciation Month.”

  “Denise!” cried Randy, then turned to Jay to get a feel for how far down this rabbit hole their discussion had delved in his absence. Much to his surprise, Jay seemed completely unbothered by Denise's observations.

  “It's cool,” he said. “Denise here was just strengthening my resolve to never return to North Carolina.”

  Denise smirked smugly at Randy. “See? You don't have to always go around bein' Mr. Social Justice Warrior.”

  Randy thought about that for a moment. “Actually, I kinda do. That pretty much sums up my role as a paladin.”

  “He's one of the good ones,” said Denise, slapping Jay on the back. “If all his people thought like him, we could ship them all here. Then everyone would be happy.”

  Jay smiled. “You'd still have the Mexicans.”

  Randy scowled at Jay. Now he was just poking the anthill.

  “They can come too,” said Denise. “Randy and I passed through this village that had more fruit needing pickin' than you could shake a maraca at. They'd feel right at home.”

  Jay's eyes lit up like he'd just thought of a cure for cancer. “And then there's the Muslims.”

  “Hey!” Randy shrieked, cutting off whatever aw
ful thing Denise was about to say. “I got some news. Captain Longfellow said his ship don't leave until sundown. Who wants to get something to eat?”

  “Too fuckin' right I do,” said Denise. “I'm hungrier than a busload of queers at a jizz buffet. No offense, Randy.” Before Randy had the chance to address the offensiveness of Denise's comment, she held up a fist to Jay. “What do you say, my man? I bet you could go for some fried chicken right about now.”

  Jay gave her fist an uneasy bump. “Considering I don't know what kind of weird shit people typically eat in this world, that sounds pretty good.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” said a full-bearded halfling cautiously approaching them. He gave Denise a slight bow. “M'lady.”

  “'The hell you want, you fuckin' Ewok?”

  “I couldn't help but overhear you were seeking a place to feast upon some fowl.”

  “Well you heard wrong, motherfucker. You and Randy here can toss each other's salads if you like, but my man Jay and me was lookin' for some chicken.”

  “Might I humbly suggest the Happy Cock?”

  “Damn, boy. You just lay your cards right down on the table, don't you?”

  Randy didn't like the direction this was going. “I think he means –”

  “I got this, Randy,” said Denise. “I don't need no knight in shining armor to protect my virtue.” He turned back to the halfling. “Listen, son. I like your style. You skip all the bullshit and get right to the point. I respect that, and I'm flattered. But let's be real. I got a vag like a subway tunnel compared to whatever you're packing down there. And in case it ain't obvious, I got a belly full of freaks that need feedin'. So I'll tell you what. If you can point us in the direction of a good chicken restaurant, I'll take you down this alley so you can whack off on my titties. How's that?”

  “Denise!” said Randy.

  “Mind you, we're all pretty hungry right now. So you got to be quick about it.”

  The halfling's confident restaurant solicitor persona had dwindled to a hollow stare.

  “I apologize for my friend's behavior,” said Randy. “Would you mind pointing the way to the Happy Cock?”