An Unwelcome Quest (Magic 2.0 Book 3)

by Scott Meyer

  “So he’s really gone,” Gary said.

  Phillip said, “Yeah, I’m afraid so. But we have his memory.”

  Tyler said, “We have better than that. We have time travel. We can still go back and save him.”

  Phillip said, “I thought about this. There are ways that might be possible, but they all are dependent on one or all of us surviving, getting away from Todd, and getting our powers back.”

  Jimmy said, “I agree.”

  Phillip said, “I didn’t ask.”

  “I know,” Jimmy said. “Just saying, the way to save Jeff is to save ourselves.”

  “That’s convenient for you,” Tyler said.

  Jimmy smiled, lifted a foot, and pointed to one of the larger blisters his ill-fitting boots had given him. “Tyler,” he said, “there is no part of this situation that I would describe as ‘convenient.’ ”

  They were all bone-tired and had bellies full of wolf jerky. They’d have loved to have been able to say it tasted like chicken, but it did not. The wolf’s final revenge was to make certain that you never forgot that you were eating wolf meat.

  They slept in shifts, always having one man awake to keep watch. By “keep watch,” they meant “kill wolves.” Now that they all understood the timing, it was not that difficult. Spot the wolf, count to three, duck, and stab. They had it down to a science, and it was a good thing, because for every wolf they dispatched, a couple of hours later two wolves would appear. Fighting multiple wolves was not that much harder, because like ninjas in a bad kung-fu movie, they only attacked one at a time, hunkering in a group, looking vicious but waiting patiently for their turn to growl and leap while whoever was keeping watch went through the motions, muttering, “One, two, three, duck, stab. One, two, three, duck, stab.”

  At dawn, they all awoke just in time to help dispatch sixteen wolves, which was difficult even when you knew the secret, just because of the sheer stamina required. The fact that the area around their camp was littered with the jerky pouches left behind by fourteen former wolves did not help either.

  As Tyler finished off the last of the wolves, Gary asked, “Does this mean that thirty-two wolves will be chasing us?”

  “—duck, stab. Nah,” Tyler said. “I’d bet they don’t travel very far from their spawn point.”

  “Yeah,” Phillip said. “At the rate they multiply, we’d be overrun by them before we got to our first task. No, I think they’re just meant to keep us moving. Discourage us from staying in one place too long.”

  Jimmy said, “Or backtracking.” He looked at the path from which they had come and shuddered. “I don’t envy anyone who has to follow that path after us.”

  8.

  Martin, Gwen, Brit the Younger, and Roy materialized. They had not known what situation they would be teleporting into, so they had attempted to prepare for anything. They wore rugged clothes and hiking boots. Roy and Martin wore their robes, hats, and staves. Martin had a thin, modern coat on under his robe. Roy’s robe was a coat, so he was covered. Gwen and Brit wore jackets without any magical accoutrements. They looked like two couples on a double date to a Renaissance festival that only the men were interested in.

  All were pitched forward on the balls of their feet. Martin and Roy brandished their staves menacingly. Martin held his like one would aim a rifle, the small bust of Santo out in front, showing any attackers which was the “business end.” Roy held the bridge cue that he used as a staff like a batter waiting for a fat pitch. Gwen brandished her dual magic wands like ninja swords. Brit used no implement to channel her magic and merely held her hands in front of her body as if they were registered weapons.

  When they’d fully materialized, they saw that they were high in the mountains. They could see the woods in front of them. A path led away, into the forest. The path started at the cliff face, about thirty yards ahead of them.

  It took only an instant to realize that if the cliff face was in front of them, they were not standing on the cliff. They looked down, then shrieked and flailed, startled by the fact that they had materialized in midair. Then they yelped and flailed at the fact that they were not falling but seemed to be standing on some invisible surface. Then they silently flailed in an effort to maintain their balance, which had been thrown off by all of their previous flailing.

  Once he had his equilibrium, Martin used his staff the way a blind person uses a cane, in an effort to see how far the surface that was supporting his weight extended.

  “Huh,” he said. “Feels solid enough. We just can’t see it.”

  Hundreds of feet below them, a river wended its way through a landscape composed of jagged rocks. The rocks led to cliffs, which became mountains before terminating in the rough, forbidding peaks that made up the horizon. It was day, but the sun was still quite low, a hazy white disk in a battleship-gray sky. The only part of the landscape that looked even a little bit inviting was the stand of woods with the path in front of them, and it seemed to invite them to their doom. Really, none of them would have been inclined to move at all if not for the fact that they were suspended unnervingly in midair.

  Roy said, “Welp, as great as this is, I think we should probably get moving.” He held his staff aloft and said the magic word to trigger the Leadchurch shell program’s flight subroutine: “Flugi.”

  Roy did not move.

  He tried again. “Flugi, dammit!”

  Martin reached into the pocket of his silver robe and pulled out his smartphone. He zipped through a couple of screens, then said, “Huh. Interesting. The programs are running, but they don’t seem to work. I guess we’re cut off from the signal.”

  Roy looked ruefully at Brit and said, “Heh. Well, you were right. You said it would be interesting for us to see if it works, and the kid is interested.”

  Brit said, “I’m as angry as you are. Brit the Elder said that, not me.”

  “Yeah,” Roy replied, “but you’re her, aren’t you?”

  “Not yet, I’m not,” Brit the Younger said.

  Roy started to respond, but he was distracted by four large and obviously full backpacks that materialized next to them. One of the backpacks had a note taped to its front. Martin leaned over (none of them were confident enough in the invisible surface on which they stood to walk just yet) and snatched up the note. He read it aloud. “Since your powers are not working, you’ll need these supplies. Good luck! Signed, Brit, XOXO.”

  Roy said, “That was nice of her.”

  “Oh,” Brit the Younger fumed, “when she does something nice, we’re different people!”

  “Is she good at recognizing sarcasm?” Roy asked. “Because you seem to have a problem with it.”

  Gwen told the others to stop bickering but was drowned out by a deafeningly loud voice that said, “Silence!”

  They reflexively cried out in surprise and covered their ears as the voice echoed off the mountains.

  Gwen asked, “Who said that?”

  “I said silence,” the voice repeated. It was so loud it made their clothing vibrate.

  Brit muttered, “Yeah, we heard.”

  In front of them, a dim point of light flickered into existence, and as it radiated outward, an unkempt old man appeared. His hair and the rags he wore were filthy. His eyes conveyed much expression but looked as if they were not good for anything else. Like them, he appeared to stand in midair.

  The old man said, “Soon, it will be dawn, and your quest will begin.”

  Gwen said, “Dawn’s past. It’s midmorning, I think. Might be evening. Which direction is north?”

  The old man said, “Aye. You’re going on a quest. A quest full of danger, and peril, and risk of life and limb.”

  “Did some other wizards come through here?” Martin asked.

  Brit added, “Did you send them on a quest?”

  The old man said, “First, you’ll brave
the dangers of Cardhu Pass. If you survive, you’ll make your way to the cursed Mines of Mortlach. There, you will seek out Blandoch, head of the mining guild. The miners will give you a sample of a mystical ore called dailuaine. You will take this splendid rock many miles, to the town of Bowmore, where it will be used to craft a weapon fit for use in the final battle.”

  Martin said, “I’m pretty sure he’s just a recording. Hey, are you a recording?”

  The old man said, “Take a moment to prepare, adventurers, and be warned. On your journey, you will face death a thousand different ways.”

  “Yeah,” Martin said. “He’s a recording.”

  “Are you sure?” Roy asked. “Maybe you should ask again.”

  The old man gazed in their general direction for a moment, then said, “I can see you are men of valor. Which of you shall lead his fellows on this quest?”

  Roy said, “Um, two of us aren’t men.”

  Gwen said, “Thanks for pointing that out.”

  The old man continued to look at them. They looked back, then looked at each other.

  The old man repeated, “I can see you are men of valor. Which of you shall lead his fellows on this quest?”

  Gwen pointed to Brit and said, “She will.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Gwen repeated, “She will.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Brit said, “I will.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Gwen said, “Brit will.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Roy said, “You’re not a man. He specified a man.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Brit said, “I’m not sure he did.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Roy said, “I will.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Roy said, “Roy will.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Brit said, “I guess you’re not a man either.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Martin said, “Gwen.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Gwen said, “What?”

  Martin said, “No, I was trying to make you the leader.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Gwen said, “Oh, I see what you mean.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Gwen said, “Martin.”

  Martin muttered, “I hate being picked last.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  They stood in silence, having run out of options. After a long moment, the old man said, “I can see you are men of valor. Which of you shall lead his fellows on this quest?”

  Martin said, “Screw this.”

  The old man said, “Can you please repeat that?”

  Martin glared at him, then started silently probing the invisible surface on which they stood with the tip of his staff. Once he was convinced that there was solid footing in front of him, Martin successfully took a step forward. Roy followed his lead, and the two started making their way to a position where they could pick up the backpacks.

  The old man continued asking them who would be their leader, and they continued ignoring him, silently distributing the backpacks among themselves. They formed a kind of conga line. Gwen and Brit followed behind, taking care to follow in Martin’s and Roy’s footsteps exactly. Martin and Roy led them, using their staves to map the area ahead and to the sides, slowly navigating a path to solid, or at least visible, ground.

  Once they were standing on a surface they could see, they did not waste a lot of time. They took a moment to gawk at the back of the old man, still hanging in midair, periodically asking the void to choose a leader. They made a quick survey of the contents of their backpacks. Brit the Elder had sent them energy bars, water filters, purification tablets, lighters, knives, some other basic camping equipment, and spare socks. In retrospect, it was now obvious why she had suggested that they all wear jeans, hiking boots, and coats.

  It was easy to reach consensus on what their next move should be. There was only one path to take. They took it with minimum discussion.

  As they walked, Martin thought aloud. “Clearly, this quest was deliberately set up by someone.”

  “Agreed,” Brit said.

  “And whoever set it up,” Martin continued, “took Phillip, Jeff, Tyler, and Gary but left me and Roy behind.”

  “They also took Jimmy,” Gwen reminded him.

  “Yeah,” Martin said. “Well, my point is, whoever it was, they took specific people they wanted, not just whoever was around.”

  Brit bit her lip while she thought for a moment, then said, “Hmm. That makes me wish we’d have thought to tell that old coot that one of them was our leader. It might have prompted the recording progress. We might have gotten more information.”

  “I’m kinda glad we didn’t,” Martin said. “For all we know, something awful might have happened. This way the program, whoever it was designed for, might not be working for us. We may just have an easier time than them now. Maybe we’ll catch up faster.”

  They all reflected on this positive thought as they rounded a corner and found the remains of the party that had been killed by wolves. Unlike those they had come to rescue, they had not been warned that they would find this sickening scene, or that there were wolves around in the first place. All four of them separately experienced a moment of silent panic, thinking that it might be their friends. Soon it became obvious that this was a different group, partly because they had clearly been dead for several days and partly because when Roy went in for a closer look, the bodies disappeared, leaving swords and neatly folded clothing and other items behind. After a bit of debate, they took the swords, shields, daggers, and a few of the furs.

  Soon after that the path left the woods and started snaking its way up and across the steep mountainside. They walked as fast as they could, keeping to the left side of the path, closer to the rock wall and a few inches farther from the cliff that formed the path’s right edge.

  Less than an hour later, their progress was blocked by two wolves, standing in single file. Martin was walking in the lead and froze when he saw the wolves.

  The wolves looked identical but behaved quite differently. The wolf in back continued to stand upright, looking alert but uninterested. The wolf in front immediately sunk into a crouch, growled, then leapt for Martin’s throat. Martin blocked with his staff. The wolf’s jaws clamped onto the staff, and it fell back to the path. Martin and the wolf played tug of war with the staff for a few moments before Martin twisted the staff free of the wolf’s grip. The wolf sprang for Martin’s throat again. This time Martin attempted to block it with his arm and backhanded the wolf, which would have been really cool if it had been deliberate. The wolf’s momentum carried it into Martin, covering his face with the dirty fur of its flank. The wolf rolled down Martin’s front and fell to the ground, sprung back to its feet, and immediately got hit with the staff again, knocking it off the cliff.

  The second wolf flattened, growled, and leapt for Martin’s throat just as the first had. This time, instead of accidentally striking the wolf with his hand, Martin deliberately struck the wolf with his staff. Like his partner before him, the wolf fell to the ground. This time Martin kicked the wolf before it found its feet. The wolf scratched and clawed at the cliff edge as it went over and fell out of Martin’s life forever.

  Gwen said, “Wow.”

  Martin swelled a bit with pride.

  Gwen continued. “Those wolves seemed really easy to kill.”

 
Martin deflated. “Well, maybe I made it look easy.”

  “Maybe,” Roy said. “It could be we were dazzled by your battle cry, ‘ai-yi-yi.’ ”

  “I did not yell ‘ai-yi-yi,’ did I?” Martin asked.

  Roy said, “You did, but I’m not surprised you didn’t notice it, what with you being in a berserker rage and all.”

  “I doubt those will be the last wolves we see,” Brit said.

  “Yup,” Roy agreed. “And the next ones probably won’t be so easy to kill. From now on we walk single file, and Martin and I should take the first and last spots.”

  Roy scooted sideways past Brit and started walking quickly up the trail. Brit gave chase.

  “Hey, why is that?” Brit asked. “Why do you and Martin have to be in front and back?”

  Gwen followed Brit, leaving Martin bringing up the rear.

  “Hey, Roy,” Brit said. “I asked you a question. Why do you or Martin have to be in front and back?”

  Roy didn’t answer. Brit asked again. When Roy failed to even acknowledge the question for a third time, Brit resorted to lightly shoving him.

  “Hey, I asked you a question,” she said.

  Roy stopped walking and turned to face her. His expression said that he was trying to be patient but was not doing a very good job of it.

  “You got a problem, young lady?”

  “Yes, old man. You won’t answer my question. Why do Gwen and I have to walk in between you and Martin?”

  “It’s pretty simple. We’re on this narrow path. There are only two ways that a wolf can approach: in front of us and behind us, right? So it just makes sense, if you take even a second to think about it, to have the kid and me in those two spots.”

  “Why?” Brit asked. “Why does it make more sense to have you two be where the wolves might attack?”

  Roy sighed. “Because you and Gwen are . . .”

  Roy paused. He had gotten into this argument because he believed men were better at fighting, but the looks in Brit’s and Gwen’s eyes made him rethink that idea. Beyond them, Martin was bugging his eyes, gritting his teeth, waving both hands, and shaking his head no. Roy took a second to choose his next word carefully.