An Unwelcome Quest (Magic 2.0 Book 3)

by Scott Meyer

Gwen and Martin walked up the stairs much more slowly than they had walked down. With each step, the light from the door at the top of the stairs grew brighter. The fact that there was light at all was reassuring, as it meant that Brit and Roy were still there to keep the door open.

  As they reached the last few steps, and their heads rose above the level of the main chamber’s floor, they could see Roy and Brit, doing their jobs. Roy was leaned over, holding the lever with both hands and bracing it with his shoulder. His knuckles were white with exertion. His feet struggled to find traction on the slick marble floor. Brit had spun around to the other side of her lever and was hanging from it by one elbow, using her other arm to keep herself from slipping.

  Roy looked up, saw Martin and Gwen, and gasped. “Hurry up! We can’t hold it forever!”

  Both Gwen and Martin practically threw themselves through the portal, only taking care to not damage the birdcage with its frozen cargo in the process. They were barely free of the door when Roy rolled sideways off his lever, allowing it to spring back into its original position. Brit merely let go of her lever, falling to the ground in a panting heap.

  Martin said, “Guys, we’re sorry. We went as fast as we could.”

  Roy massaged his hands. Brit sat up, shoulders sagging, and limply held up a hand, signaling that a response would come when it was darned good and ready. After several heavy breaths, she said, “We know. We know. You did your best, I’m sure. A few times, I turned to Roy, and I said, ‘We have to hold on. Martin and Gwen are counting on us.’ Didn’t I say that, Roy?”

  “Yeah,” Roy agreed. “I knew she was right, but it took you so long, I was sure something terrible had happened. All we could do was worry, and hold on as long as we could.”

  Martin said, “Oh, guys. We’re sorry. It must have been terrible!”

  “It was,” Brit said. “Roy cried.”

  Roy instantly looked furious with Brit. Brit looked at him, innocently, and said, “Isn’t that right, Roy?”

  Through gritted teeth, Roy said, “I didn’t think you were going to tell them that.”

  Gwen walked over to Roy and put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, come on, Roy. It’s all right. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure you cry all the time.”

  Roy looked up at Gwen and said, “Thanks for that.”

  Martin offered Brit a hand up, which she accepted. Once she was on her feet, Martin asked, “Why didn’t you just lean back on the lever? It might have been easier than hanging from it.”

  Brit said, “Really, Martin? You’re gonna second-guess us? You don’t know what went on up here. You don’t know what all we tried.”

  Martin quickly said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Brit glared at him for a moment, then looked down at the birdcage, saying, “So, the bird was there.”

  Marin said, “Yeah, but he’s not right.” Martin held up the cage so Brit and Roy could get a good look. The metal bird was still frozen in place, hovering in midair above its perch, wings frozen midflight. Martin spun the cage around so they could see that the bird remained motionless in relation to the cage no matter how it moved.

  “Weird,” Roy said, summing the situation up nicely.

  “Yeah,” Gwen agreed. “And it wasn’t the only thing that was a bit off. There was a jester down there who didn’t seem to be dead or even really hurt. He was just lying perfectly still, facedown on the floor.”

  Brit said, “Yeah, that does seem like some kind of glitch. Any sign of what messed things up?”

  Martin and Gwen exchanged a quick look; then Martin said, “Well, there was also a lot of blood down there.”

  “The jester’s?” Roy asked.

  “No,” Gwen said. “It was on the other side of the room.”

  That silenced all conversation while they all thought seriously about whose blood it might have been.

  Roy said, “Speaking of blood, we should get moving. Every second we stay here, the more likely that those soldiers have regenerated.”

  Martin pushed the immense doors open a crack and peeked through, fearing that he’d find a sea of soldiers all waiting their turn to attack him. Instead, the courtyard was empty. He pushed the door open far enough to poke his head out and look from side to side.

  He saw nobody.

  He pushed the doors open and walked out into the open air, followed by the others.

  “Looks like they haven’t regenerated,” Martin said.

  “At least they haven’t regenerated here,” Gwen side. “Two wolves usually respawn where one was killed, so if the soldiers did come back, there’ll be twice as many of them around that corner.” She pointed down the only path leading to or from the castle, which turned left in the distance and went behind the wall of the canyon, creating the natural hiding spot they had used earlier.

  Martin said, “I’ll sneak up there and see if the coast is clear. It’s the least I can do after what we put you two through.”

  Martin jogged away. Roy said, “That’s decent of him.”

  Brit said, “Well, I’m sure he feels terrible. He knows it had to be bad if it made a big strong man like you cry.”

  Roy grimaced and said, “Hmph.”

  Brit said, “Like a little girl.”

  Roy glared at her, then focused on the frozen bird in the cage he was holding. Gwen made eye contact with Brit. Brit shrugged.

  Gwen continued her eye contact. Brit shrugged again.

  Gwen raised her eyebrows. Brit blushed a bit and nearly laughed. Gwen nearly laughed too, and might have if not for the distant yelp and the sight of Martin running their way, pursued by sixteen regenerated soldiers.

  15.

  Gary walked into the cabin with the blond Gwen on his arm, cooing in his ear about how nice it was to have visitors. Behind him, the redhead entered holding Tyler’s hand, gushing about how rough and manly it felt. The brunette Gwen entered walking backward, holding both of Jimmy’s hands, leading him forward and gazing over every inch of him as if he were a priceless work of art.

  Phillip followed them in, alone and grumpy.

  Phillip had no sooner crossed the threshold than the black-haired Gwen appeared and clung to his side as if drawn there by magnets.

  From the outside, the building had seemed like a normal medieval dwelling, larger than usual but of conventional design and made of predictable materials. Inside, it was a different story.

  They entered a large room that looked as if a swinging bachelor from the late sixties had attempted to decorate his pad using materials he stole from a renaissance fair. The floor on which they stood formed an elevated ring around the perimeter of the room. Set into the middle of the floor was a sunken seating area, the kind of thing that used to be called a “conversation pit,” although the silky pillows and cushions that lined the sofas and the floor made Phillip doubt that it had been designed with conversation in mind. Along one wall there was a bar with several bottles of no-doubt-intoxicating liquids ranging in color from perfectly clear to dark brown. On another wall there was a fireplace with a roaring fire and the mandatory bearskin rug. The third wall held a staircase leading upstairs and a series of pegs. Various garments hung from the pegs. At a glance, they seemed period accurate, but when Phillip looked for a moment, he saw that in addition to the expected fur and leather items, there were garments made of gauze, denim, plaid, and something that looked like shiny black plastic.

  Gary, Tyler, and Jimmy allowed themselves to be led down into the pit, where they were gently placed into seats and gently fussed over.

  Phillip said, “No thanks,” and walked over to the fireplace instead. He immediately took off the multiple robes he’d been wearing in an unsuccessful attempt to stay warm. The black-haired Gwen took each filthy robe as if it were a treasure. Phillip crouched before the fire, warming his hands while the black-haired Gwen watched, waiting for h
im to remove more clothes.

  Once everyone seemed comfortable, the blond Gwen drew back from Gary and said, “After your long journey, you must be terribly hungry.”

  Gary arched his eyebrows in a way he hoped was suave and said, “Yes. Very.”

  She drew her face closer to his and said, “I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve had a good meal.”

  “It’s been so long,” Gary said. “So long.”

  The blond Gwen giggled and said, “Well, we’ll be right back, and then you’ll have as much food as you like.” She and the other Gwens all stood up as if on cue and walked out of the room through a door next to the bar.

  Phillip stood by the fire, looking at the other three men lying prone among the cushions, looking forlornly at the door through which the Gwens had just left. “You’re pathetic,” he said. “It’s no wonder women don’t respect men.”

  Tyler said, “Women don’t respect men because we didn’t respect them first. It’s retaliation.”

  Gary added, “And we’re not pathetic. We’re just playing them, drawing them out, hoping they’ll tip their hand.”

  Phillip said, “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Relax, Phillip,” Jimmy said. “We’re in complete control of the situation. We’re not going to let it go any further than it already has. We’ve all got our guard up.”

  Phillip said, “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Tyler said, “Come on, Phil, you knew what we’d find in here. You knew it would be something like this.”

  “That’s it, Tyler. Todd, if he’s going to watch any part of this little misadventure he’s cooked up for us, it’ll be this. Anyway, Todd designed this whole scenario to be irresistibly seductive. Look around, you guys. We’re standing in a sexist buffoon’s idea of romance.”

  “And credit where it’s due,” Gary said. “I think what he came up with is pretty effective.”

  “Yeah,” Phillip agreed, scowling. “That’s why it angers me.”

  The door to the next room reopened, and the four Gwens returned, each carrying a lidded platter. Three settled in next to Jimmy, Tyler, and Gary. The one with black hair stood next to Phillip, brandishing her platter. She glanced down to her own cleavage, then looked up at Phillip expectantly and said, “Are you hungry?”

  Phillip groaned, “I feel like I owe every woman on the planet an apology, including you.” The artificial Gwen did not seem to understand the response.

  Gary said, “Yes, he’s hungry. We’re all hungry.”

  In unison, the Gwens removed the lids from their platters to reveal grapes, cherries, bite-sized chunks of melon and pineapple, small cubes of cheese, and what appeared to be wood and brass medieval analogs of cans of aerosol whipped cream.

  Phillip squeezed the bridge of his nose and said, “Oh, Lord.”

  “I know, right?” Gary said, almost giggling.

  The blond, brunette, and redheaded Gwens each delicately picked up a morsel of food from their platters and slowly pushed them toward the men’s mouths. Jimmy, Tyler, and Gary dutifully opened their mouths to receive their first bite. Phillip gently grasped the black-haired Gwen’s wrist with one hand and took the piece of fruit with the other, popping it into his mouth.

  The black-haired Gwen withdrew her hand and sucked the juice from her fingertips while looking deeply into Phillip’s eyes.

  Phillip looked away while he chewed his pineapple chunk. Without looking back, he asked her, “What’s your name?”

  The black-haired Gwen purred, “I’m the one with black hair.”

  “He didn’t even bother to give them names,” Phillip said, straining the words through gritted teeth. He sat down on the bearskin rug, sighing heavily. The one with black hair put down the platter and lowered herself to the floor as well, though she didn’t sit on the rug so much as she stretched her legs out to one side, keeping them together but bent to accentuate the flare of her hips and the narrowness of her waist. Her torso remained upright, her weight supported by one hand while the other explored the surface of the rug. She slowly ran her fingers through the long fur, humming with pleasure.

  “Hmmmmm,” she said. “It feels so soft and warm on my skin.”

  “The skin of your hand?” Phillip asked.

  She gave him a heavy-lidded look in the eyes and said, “Yes.” She held her hand out to him.

  Phillip shook his head, then picked up the platter of food from the floor and turned so he could eat it without looking at the black-haired Gwen. He said, to anyone who was listening, “I notice these simulations adapt a little better to our responses.”

  “Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “He probably put more time into writing this part of the program.”

  “Yeah,” Phillip said. “I bet he did. I’m sure this part of the quest has been rigorously tested.”

  Down in the seating area, the other men were thoroughly enjoying their meal. The blond Gwen had just placed a grape in Gary’s mouth and was reaching for a cherry when he shook his head no and nodded toward the can of whipped cream. Blond Gwen smiled wickedly and picked up the can.

  The can was made out of very small barrel staves, held together with small riveted brass hoops. The domed brass top was tipped with a nozzle that looked like carved ivory. She lifted the can and dispensed some whipped cream onto her index finger, which she offered to Gary. He accepted the offer. She started to put more of the whipped cream on her finger, but he again shook his head no, and opened his mouth wide. She aimed the nozzle at his mouth and fired. She was a tad overzealous, and whipped cream went all over Gary’s face. He laughed.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to go get you cleaned up.”

  “Yes,” Gary said. “That! We have to do that!”

  The blond stood up and offered Gary her hand. He leapt to his feet and took her hand. He beamed down at Tyler and Jimmy.

  “I’m going to go get cleaned,” he said.

  “So we heard,” Jimmy said.

  “Yes,” Gary said. “You did hear it, right?”

  “Yes, we did,” Tyler agreed.

  Gary said “Good” as the blond led him by the hand to the staircase. He glanced over and saw Phillip, sitting cross-legged on the bearskin rug, holding the platter of fruit chunks as if it were a paper plate at a summer barbecue, miserably eating while the black-haired Gwen watched his every move adoringly.

  “Don’t worry, Phillip,” Gary said as he and the blond walked up the stairs. “I’ll be vigilant. No detail will escape my notice.”

  Phillip muttered, “He’s gonna get himself killed.”

  “Well, he’s gonna get himself something,” Tyler said, chewing a strawberry while the redheaded Gwen looked on adoringly. “Lighten up, Phillip. He’s not a dummy.”

  Phillip stared at Tyler.

  “Not as big a dummy as you think,” Tyler said. “Besides, it’s easy for you to take the high road here. You’re the only one of us with a steady girlfriend.”

  Phillip said, “First of all, that shouldn’t matter.”

  Tyler said, “But we all know it does.”

  “Secondly,” Phillip continued, “Gary hits on every woman he meets, constantly.”

  “Yeah,” Tyler said. “Do you think that means he has a lot of success?”

  “That’s a good point,” Jimmy said, peeking around the side of the brunette Gwen’s head to make eye contact with Phillip. “Do you really keep looking for something after you’ve found it?”

  Phillip lapsed into a sullen silence, quietly munching his mixed fruit and cheese platter and trying not to listen to Jimmy and Tyler slurp and giggle their way through theirs.

  After a few more chunks of fruit, Jimmy said, “Hey, Tyler, you wanna take your bath next?”

  Of course Tyler did, but he was deeply suspicious of anything Jimmy did, especially if it seemed like an act of kindness.
Tyler glared at Jimmy, then said, “Why? Why do you want me to? You trying to get me out of the room for some reason?”

  Jimmy said, “No. I’m just trying to figure out the order. Honestly, Tyler, I know you don’t trust me, but you’re going to have to let me out of your sight, unless you want to watch me take my bath.”

  Tyler thought a moment, then said, “I’ve decided to trust you, for now.”

  Jimmy said “Splendid” and went back to allowing himself to be fed.

  Phillip spent a moment contemplating his view of the back half of the brunette Gwen until he snapped out of it and averted his eyes. His gaze resettled, quite naturally, on his side view of the redheaded Gwen. Phillip physically turned his face away and found himself looking directly at the black-haired Gwen staring at him, smiling.

  Phillip looked at the floor. “How are any of us going to face Gwen after this?”

  Tyler said, “The same way we face every woman we’ve fantasized about but not had sex with.”

  “Which is a lot of them,” Jimmy added.

  Phillip looked up from the floor and watched Jimmy and Tyler enjoy their meal for a moment before saying, “This is a lot more than just a fantasy, Tyler.”

  “Yes,” Tyler allowed, “but it’s a lot less than sex.”

  Phillip said, “Yeah, for now.” He glanced at the staircase. “For us.”

  “You’re worried about Gary?” Tyler asked.

  “Yes,” Phillip answered.

  “Well, don’t be. He may act dumb sometimes, but I trust him. I promise you, Phillip. He’s in complete control of the situation.”

  Upstairs, in the bathroom, Gary was in complete control of the situation. He had entered the room, seen the bathtub full of warm, soapy water, and had decided that the only prudent course of action was to immediately disrobe.

  I’m supposed to be taking a bath, right? You don’t do that in your clothes, he thought. That would be crazy.

  He started removing his clothes, then turned to see if the blond Gwen was watching him undress. She was. As he continued to undress, he watched her watching him undress. As always happens whenever someone watches you do something you usually do alone, Gary was gripped with the uneasy feeling that he was undressing wrong, and that the false Gwen was judging him.