by Dan McGirt
But they did not. We rode out the next morning, much to the relief of Grimmel's inhabitants. As we departed, a notice nailed to a tree at the settlement’s edge caught my eye.
“That has my name on it!” I cried.
I ripped down the water-stained poster:
WANTED
Dead or Alive*
JASON COSMO
REWARD 10,000,000 CARATS
*Body intact. No disintegrations!
This was the first tangible proof of the bounty on my head. Seeing it in stark print chilled my blood.
“This is not the way to maintain a low profile,” said Merc.
I stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then noticed that every convict and soldier within earshot was looking our way with an unhealthy amount of renewed interest.
“Right. Sorry.”
“Most of them can't read. I’m sure they have the brain capacity of walnuts. But let's not stick around until they connect the dots.”
“I was surprised.”
“Don’t be. You're Arden's Archvillain, remember? These notices are tacked to every tree from here to Cyrilla.”
“Not a comforting thought.”
“Here is one less comforting. Word of our presence will spread through these work camps like an outbreak of Orphalian flu. If the Red Huntsman still prowls Brythalia—as he did a fortnight ago—he will soon pick up our trail.”
“That would be bad.”
Mercury fixed me with a stare. “Very bad.”
***
It took three days to cross the forest region. We passed through several logging camps, all showing signs of recent abandonment—recent as in newly-doused cooking fires still smoldering. At last we emerged into Brythalia’s broad, rolling farmlands. Evening was upon us as we neared the small hamlet of Goatgloss. Though Mercury counseled another night of roughing it under the stars, the twins thought otherwise.
“We’ve had our fill of wallowing in the mud like swine, wizard,” said Sapphrina. “If there is a decent bed in this village, I want it.”
“And a hot bath and shampoo,” said Rubis. “And a properly cooked meal. And my nails need a buff and polish, though I doubt we’ll find a decent manicurist here.”
“My boots could use mending too,” said Sapphrina. “The heel has come loose. Our dresses need pressing and the brambles have fairly well shredded our hose.”
“Really, your graces?” said Mercury sourly. “Maybe we could schedule a therapeutic massage and aromatherapy session while we’re at it.”
“Don’t tease us,” said Sapphrina.
“But some scented candles would be nice,” added Rubis.
Mercury muttered something unintelligible.
Much banging of shutters and bolting of doors accompanied our progress through the village. I heard the whimpering of small children, the fearful wails of young women, the anguished prayers of the old. Dogs growled at us. Cats hissed. Horses whickered nervously. Oddly enough, despite the name, I saw no goats, glossy or otherwise.
“Not exactly a warm, friendly welcome,” I observed.
“Your reputation has preceded us. Let us hope the news of our progress has not reached the Red Huntsman or BlackMoon.”
“Yes, let’s. But are you sure it is my reputation to blame? You’re the one who blasted a man with Blue Bolts of Death.”
“Blue Bolt of Death. Singular. I only used one.”
“Whatever.”
We dismounted before the Dancing Donkey Inn. Above the entrance hung a weathered sign depicting a donkey in a wig doing a jig while taking a swig of ale.
“Let’s try this one,” said Merc.
It was the only inn in town.
The proprietor, a rotund man with drooping jowls and several chins, met us at the door, wringing his hands nervously and bowing as best he could.
“Welcome, welcome, good sirs, to my humble establishment,” he wheezed. “Please don’t destroy it. That is, I mean to say, how may I be of service?”
“We need a hot meal and rooms for the night,” said Merc, flipping him a silver coin. “Also, our horses need tending.”
“At once!” said the owner as the coin hit the floor and rolled beneath a table. “You may have any room you desire, as all of my other guests have just fled out the back door. Roasted lamb! Steamed mushrooms! Fresh baked bread! Orphalian cheese! My finest wine! And your horses will be—ah, what do your horses eat?”
“Hay,” I said. “Or oats. What would you expect?”
“Not human flesh?” he asked, licking his lips.
“The usual horse fare will suffice.”
He seemed relieved to hear this. “Please, please be seated, kind masters. My daughter will serve you shortly. I will see that your horses are carefully groomed and given our best feed. Your rooms will be prepared, your—”
“Thank you,” said Merc. “I am certain you will see to it.”
“Oh, yes! Yes! Absolutely!” The nervous innkeeper waddled into the back room, shouting instructions.
“Good service here,” said Mercury as we took our places around a wine-stained table. Mercury sat at one end and I at the other, flanked by the twins, who tended to keep as much distance from the wizard as possible.
“I hope the food is good too,” I said. “The rations you store in your cape have an odd taste.”
“That is due to radical ionization as a side effect of the transdimensional interface.” He shrugged. “You get used to it.”
“I haven’t yet.”
A trembling slip of a girl appeared from the kitchen. She bore a steaming platter of meat and mushrooms. Her wide eyes remained fixed on me as she approached the table. She stumbled and nearly fell at an uneven spot in the floor, but caught herself and set the platter down.
“That looks delicious!” I said, smiling hungrily. The girl gasped and scurried back to the kitchen like a frightened rabbit.
The twins laughed.
“Why is everyone so afraid of me?” I asked.
“I have heard,” said Sapphrina, “That in a single season you pillaged the Free Coast, ravished the Royal Harem of King Oriones the Mad of Cyrilla, massacred an entire Zastrian town with your bare hands, violated the Seven Sacred Sylphs of Serragonia, and bit the head off an ox.”
“Why would I bite the head off an ox?”
“Who knows?” said Mercury. “As I have explained repeatedly, you have a fearsome reputation. That is why we must travel incognito. Or else we’ll find ourselves facing the full might of the Society.”
The proprietor’s daughter returned with wine in goblets. In her nervous haste, she spilled a full cup in my lap. With a sharp cry of fear, she bolted from the room.
Sapphrina and Rubis laughed again.
“You’re a terror!” said Sapphrina.
“Here, let me help you with that,” said Rubis, dabbing at the spill with her napkin.
“That’s all right. Don’t—”
“Hold still and let me mop that up before the stain sets in your trousers.”
“Do you need any help, dear sister?” asked Sapphrina sweetly.
“I have it well in hand,” said Rubis.
“So...um, Merc. How will we regain our composure—I mean anonymity?” I squirmed. “Thank you, Rubis; I think you’ve got it.”
“My pleasure.” She winked.
“The road west follows the river to Lake Brythal and the capital at Rumular. We must avoid the city. The Society will have many eyes there. Nor can we risk traversing the other highways. All will be watched. I propose to head south, cross the lake district, then turn west for Raelna.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“We must also make a decision regarding these girls.”
“What do you mean?” the twins asked in unison.
“We’re coming with you,” added Sapphrina, entwining her arm with mine.
“Yes, exactly,” said Rubis, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“Don’t be absurd,” said Merc. “You have n
o part in our quest. We are bound for Rae City. Your goal is to return to Caratha. You could best do so by finding passage on a river boat, which will transport you down the Longwash to that fair metropolis.”
“Land or water, this is still Brythalia!” snapped Sapphrina.
“You seem to be capable wenches,” said Merc. “I am confident you can bargain your way safely home, one way or another.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Mercury shrugged. The twins glared at him.
“Why don’t we all take the river?” I asked.
Mercury shook his head. “Too exposed. Too vulnerable.”
“We’re coming with you,” said Sapphrina, peering up at me with fluttering eyes and a slight quiver in her lip. “Right, Jason?”
“Please?” added Rubis.
“Merc, they’ve come this far. I don’t see why we shouldn’t bring them the rest of the way.”
Mercury glowered. “Very well, have it your way. If you want to take care of them, Cosmo, let their fate be on your head.”
“We’d have it no other way,” said Rubis.
***
Mercury’s proposed route across Brythalia was dictated by the peculiar geography of that realm, which itself had been dictated by King Hamric the Half-Mad, grandfather of the current sovereign, King Rubric IV.
Brythalia lay southwest of Darnk. Across its northern frontier stretched the cloak of the forest from which we had just emerged. Farther west was the desolation that was once the realm of Terrengia. To the east of Brythalia rose the implacable Hammerperk Mountains. The adjoining highlands flanked the lake region, which comprised the eastern half of the kingdom. South of the lakes was a hilly wilderness; beyond it, Zastria. The western half of Brythalia was also rich farmland, a broad plain nourished by the Longwash. The border with Raelna was in the southwest.
The madness of King Hamric found its expression in the central part of the kingdom, which had once boasted the most bountiful fields in all Brythalia, but was today a vast, dismal, needlefly-infested, alligator-overrun, outlaw-sheltering, malodorous fen known as Hamric’s Mire. The world’s largest permanent mud puddle came about because Hamric, whose ambition greatly exceeded his good judgment, decided that his landlocked kingdom was destined to become a great maritime power. He longed to challenge Caratha and Zastria for control of the Indigo Sea and the trade routes to the exotic lands south of Cyrilla.
It was access to the sea, Hamric decided, that allowed other kingdoms to surpass Brythalia in wealth and power. The king therefore commanded that a great canal be dug from Lake Brythal to the Indigo Sea. He planned to redirect the mighty River Longwash into this new channel, thus gaining access to the sea while depriving his downstream neighbors of the valuable river trade.
Thousands of serfs and slaves were diverted from tending the fields to digging what was soon dubbed the Big Ditch. Thousands more were put to work in the northern forests felling trees and building a magnificent fleet of warships on the shores of Lake Brythal. Meanwhile, Hamric’s armies skipped the Annual War with Raelna for six years straight to instead battle the wild tribesmen and deadly monsters of the southern highlands. At great cost in blood and treasure, his forces won control of a narrow strip through the hills, coming within sight of the sea. In anticipation of the day when the Big Ditch would extend that far, Hamric secured his new territory, known as the Brythalian Corridor, with a chain of forts.
Unfortunately for Hamric, his engineers were terminally incompetent. They managed to extend the Big Ditch some twelve leagues in as many years, a rate of progress that would allow the Brythalian navy to reach the open sea in approximately a century. Many workers perished in collapsing trenches and other mishaps, while costs mounted and the royal treasury dwindled. To keep the Big Ditch going, Hamric taxed his subjects without mercy, extorted the wealth of his nobles, and borrowed huge sums from foreign bankers. The massive project that was supposed to bring Brythalia unprecedented glory and prosperity was instead breaking the kingdom’s collective back.
Then, one morning in the spring of 942, the locks at the Lake Brythal end of the Big Ditch gave way. A fifty foot wall of water rushed down the channel, destroying all in its path. In mere hours, the deluge reached the south end of the unfinished canal and spilled into the surrounding countryside. Trapped in the lowlands, the waters never receded. The result was Hamric’s Mire.
It wasn’t quite the legacy the king hoped for. Hamric blamed saboteurs from Caratha. Others said that the Dark Magic Society inspired the digging of the Big Ditch to bankrupt the kingdom, then demolished it to complete Brythalia’s ruin. The pious credited the catastrophe to the wrath of Torrent Wetlace, Goddess of Rivers and Streams—divine punishment for Hamric’s hubris in daring to divert the Longwash from its appointed path.
Whatever the flood’s cause, Half-Mad Hamric was soon overthrown by his brother, Hadric the Tolerably Eccentric. Work on the Big Ditch ended forever. Hamric’s name was cursed in Brythalia to this day.
I hoped that our own plans would not prove to be, like his, all wet.
*****
Chapter 8
Down through the rolling hills of the Brythalian lake country we rode, along roads that were little more than dirt tracks. Goats, cattle, and swine roamed freely in the pastures. Serfs toiled in the fields while their overlords hunted and feasted and mustered their knights for the spring campaigning season.
Brythalia was a patchwork of mutually hostile feudal domains. Each of the kingdom’s many knights, barons, baronets, overbarons, underbarons, earls, earlets, counts, viscounts, miscounts, dukes, and other nobles was master of his own estate—and eager to become master of his neighbor’s. When the nobles weren’t fighting each other, they replenished their coffers by charging outrageous tariffs, taxes, and tolls on anyone and anything they could. This included safe passage fees at every gate, bridge, and border—with neither safety, nor passage, guaranteed.
Mercury’s purse was seemingly quite full, but stopping every few miles to shell out another handful of coppers grew tiresome. After several days of this, Merc’s patience ran out.
“Halt!” ordered a slovenly man-at-arms as we approached a rickety wooden bridge over a trickle of a brook. He and his comrade crossed their halberds to bar our way. “None may cross the bridge but they pay the toll!”
“Whose bridge is this?” snapped Merc.
“The bridge of His Grace the Baron Trothgar, you varlet! The price of passage is ten coppers!”
“The baron’s bridge looks unstable,” said Merc. “Several planks are missing, the railings lean, and the piers appear rotten. Hardly a ten copper bridge. You should pay us to cross it.”
“Pay you to cross? What nonsense it that?”
“It will be a miracle if that bridge can support the weight of a horse, much less four. If it gives way and my horse breaks a leg, who will compensate me?”
“That is your own problem,” said the insolent soldier.
“It will be the baron’s problem, if his bridge injures my horse.”
“Turn back then.”
“We’ll ford the stream instead.”
“That’s not allowed!”
“Why not? If I want to get wet, it’s my business.”
“It’s the baron’s business, this being his stream! There is a fording toll—ten coppers. Plus the ten copper fine on account of fording not being allowed.”
“What if I just fly across?”
“Fly?” The guard scoffed. “Are you some sort of wizard?”
“Maybe.”
The soldier was suddenly not so sure of himself. “Um...there is, of course, the wizard fee if you are.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“We don’t always collect that one,” the man added hastily, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
“I understand,” said Merc. “Because if I were a wizard, I would not take kindly to these niggling little nuisance charges. I would likely express my displeasure in a most
unpleasant manner.”
“And?” asked the soldier, while his comrade backed away slowly.
“And what?” countered Merc.
“Well, are you or aren’t you? Don’t toy with us, man!”
Mercury stroked his beard as if considering the matter. He arched one eyebrow and said, “I am in point of fact...not a wizard. If you take my meaning. No wizards here.”
“Well, that is a relief!” said the soldier. “We heard a rumor that an especially bloodthirsty wizard is abroad in the company of a pair of vicious she-demons and some sort of half-troll henchman. Massacred an entire village up in the forest lands a few days back!”
“Is that so?” mused Merc. He regarded the twins and me with a bemused expression that was not lost on the men-at-arms. “We’ll certainly keep an eye out for them. Thanks for the tip.”
“Not a problem, sir.”
“We’ll be on our way then?”
“Yes, please! I mean, we wouldn’t want to hinder you in any way Mister Not-A-Wizard, sir!” The soldiers stepped aside. We rode across the bridge unmolested.
Once we were out of earshot, I urged my steed alongside Merc’s and asked, “What just happened there?”
“A little artful intimidation. I wager we’ll have no more delays for tolls.”
“What happened to keeping a low profile?”
Mercury shrugged. “There are always trade-offs, Cosmo. Low profile was proving too slow. The sooner we’re out of Brythalia, the better.”
“Why the sudden hurry?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Would you care to share them?”
“No.”
“Merc, we’re all in this together.”
“True, wizard,” said Sapphrina. “Let’s have it!”
Mercury glanced back and frowned, as if disappointed to discover that the twins hadn’t fallen into the stream and drowned. The sisters smiled back sweetly.