Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2)

by Bevan, Robert

  The whole house shook as Katherine slammed the door.

  “Dude,” said Dave. “What’s up with your sister?”

  “She’s having some mixed emotions right now,” said Tim.

  “I think she’s homesick,” said Julian.

  “Sexual frustration,” offered Cooper.

  Tim picked up his pack. “We’d better go.”

  “We’re just going to leave your sister here?” asked Cooper.

  “I think that’s the best option for now,” said Tim. “I mean yeah, he’s a vampire, but he seems all right. It’s probably safer for her in here than it is out there in the city. We’ll come back for her when we figure out a way home.”

  Dave shook himself dry as best he could and proceeded to strap his armor back on. Julian and Ravenus ate a few more pieces of bacon. Cooper dumped the uneaten eggs into his pack. Chaz strapped his lute to his back and picked up his bag.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” asked Tim.

  “She can stay if she wants,” said Chaz. “But I want to get out of here.”

  “You’re going to stay here and look after my sister.”

  “But the torture!” Chaz whined.

  “I don’t give a shit if he makes you sing Achy Breaky Heart from now until Christmas,” said Tim. “I’m not leaving my sister alone with a vampire who is pissed off about losing his favorite bard.”

  Tim knelt in front of Butterbean and rubbed his neck. The wolf whined and pouted, but seemed to understand that he had to leave.

  Once outside, they met the same two men who had been standing guard at the door the night before. Did they not sleep? One of them shoved the weapons-collection crate at Julian with his foot.

  As they collected their belongings, a corpse of a horse pulled a carriage before them. The beast was a gruesome site. Hairless, decomposing skin was literally falling off of its bare-bone legs. So much skin had receded from its mouth and eyelids that it looked as though its face was frozen in some maniacal horse grin.

  “This must be our ride,” said Dave.

  “It would seem so,” said Tim. Neither of them looked to be in any great hurry to hop on board.

  Julian was ready to get off of this mountain, zombie horse or no zombie horse. He hopped up in the carriage. The seats were made of soft, black leather. Windows surrounded the sides and rear of the cabin, but were conspicuously absent from the front, which seemed counterintuitive until Julian figured out that the purpose for such a design was that you wouldn’t have to look at the ass of a dead horse. This, in turn, meant that Millard must have designed and built this carriage himself. Impressive.

  Cooper was the next in, followed reluctantly by Dave, Tim, and Butterbean. Ravenus perched on top. As soon as the last of them was seated, the carriage jerked forward. Tim stared back at the fort until it disappeared from view.

  The zombie horse proved to be surprisingly good at its job, and they made it down the mountain in about a quarter of the time it had taken them to climb up it. Once they were safely within sight of Cardinia’s city walls, the carriage stopped. When the last of them climbed out, the horse turned around and trotted back the way it had come from.

  Chapter 15

  Tim found Frank at his usual table, sipping a beer and laughing about something the dwarf sitting across from him had said. He stepped up behind him and cleared his throat loudly.

  Frank turned around. “Tim!” he said. “Welcome back!” His cheeks were a bit rosier than usual

  “Has Stuart cooled down yet?”

  Frank puffed out his cheeks and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I expect he’s cooled down as much as he’s going to. You’d best keep Cooper away from him for a while though.”

  “That’s fine,” said Tim. “We need to talk.”

  “What’s on your mind, sport?”

  “Not here.”

  Frank turned to his comrades at the table. “Fellas, I’ll be right back.”

  Tim took Frank by the arm and Frank allowed himself to be taken. They rushed through a forest of crotches and asses to a dark and unoccupied corner of the bar.

  “We’re going to need a stake,” said Tim below the murmur.

  “Is that all?” asked Frank. “Why all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit? I’ll have the cook fix something up. How’d things go with your sister?”

  “Not that kind of steak,” said Tim. “We’ll be hunting a vampire. I need a wooden stake.”

  The color vanished from Frank’s cheeks. “That’s pretty fucking ambitious for a group of second level scrubs, don’t you think?”

  “He’s got my sister in there with him, under some kind of charm or glamour or whatever.”

  “I feel for your plight, man. I really do, but I just can’t risk any of my guys for –”

  “I’m not asking you to risk anyone’s life,” said Tim. “I’m just trying to get my hands on a stake.”

  “It’s just a wooden pointy stick,” said Frank. “You could sharpen a chair leg. What do you need me for?”

  “I’m going to need something a little more advanced than a sharpened chair leg.”

  “Look, kid. I don’t think we have any spellcasters here who can permanently magically enhance a weapon. And if we did, we sure as shit wouldn’t be using it on wooden stakes.”

  “I don’t need it magically enhanced. We’d never get it past the guards with a magical aura. But as I’d like to have every edge I can get, I would like a stake of masterwork quality. We’ll probably only get one shot at this bastard’s heart.”

  “More like no shots,” said Frank. “This is a suicide mission. Vampires don’t fuck around. Your shitty little Move Silently bonus isn’t going to help you sneak up on a vampire. He’s going to rip you apart before you even know he’s there.”

  “No he won’t,” said Tim. “He likes us.”

  “He likes you?”

  “Where do you think we’ve been all night. He cooked dinner for us in his fort.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “The guy is lonely. He just wants some company.”

  “And you’re going to exploit his emotional insecurity to murder him.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Frank shook his head. “I can get you a stake. Fritz has a few ranks in woodworking. I’m sure he can sort something out. But let me make this plain. You guys are on your own. I’m not sending anyone else to die for your sister.”

  “I understand,” said Tim. “There’s one more specification I’d like to request.”

  “What more do you want out of a stake? It’s a sharpened stick. What, do you need an ivory handle? A mother-of-pearl inlaid carrying case?”

  “I mentioned guards before.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” said Tim. “They pat us down pretty good, and take all of our weapons before we go in. We’re going to have to smuggle in the stake.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?” asked Frank. The grimace on his face suggested he already had a pretty good idea of what the answer was going to be.

  “We’ve got to shove it up Cooper’s ass.”

  Frank sighed. “Of course you do.”

  “I appreciate this,” said Tim. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you keep this just between us? And Fritz, I guess.”

  “Too fucking right I will,” Frank snapped. “You think I want any of these idiots getting it in their head that they’re going to go kill a vampire?”

  “Thanks, Frank. How long do you think it will take?”

  “You’re making a pretty big request of someone who is under-qualified to do it. My guess is that it will take a few weeks.”

  “Weeks?” said Tim. “What if she doesn’t have weeks? It’s a fucking stick! You said as much yourself.”

  “A Masterwork Weapon is a piece of art,” said Frank. “If Fritz fucks it up – and I’ll tell you right now, he’s going to fuck it up a good many times before he gets it right – you won’t get any attack bonus. If you don’t
want to wait, I understand. But let me know now so we don’t waste Fritz’s time.”

  “No,” said Tim. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

  *

  The next few weeks were some of the longest weeks in Tim’s life, aside from high school. Frank gave up on trying to force Cooper and Stuart to get along by sending them out on missions together. He allowed Tim, Cooper, Dave, and Julian to work together as long as they managed to keep producing an income, and he even went as far as letting them have a day off once a week to go visit Katherine.

  Stepping out of the Whore’s Head Inn was always like stepping into hostile territory. They learned pretty quickly how to best avoid running into the Horsemen, and they even became friendly with a pair of guards at one of the city gates who would always laugh and shake their heads whenever the group returned, broken and battered with little or nothing to show for it, from one of their daily outings.

  “Been out treasure hunting again, have you?” they would say. “It’s a dangerous world out beyond these walls. You boys should really stay inside.”

  Of course they were right. Whatever precautions they took to minimize their risk of dying, they always seemed to find more trouble than treasure. The only reason Frank let them continue as they did was that occasionally they would land a big score. Big for them anyway. A magic ring, or a fancy dagger or something they could pawn for some decent cash.

  Visits to Millard’s Fort were surprisingly pleasant. The vampire’s carriage was always there waiting for them early on Friday evenings, which was the time they’d agreed upon for these visits. Millard would always make a big show of leaping out the window to suck the life out of some poor wild animal and cook it for his guests. Katherine’s clothing went from whorish to 1950’s housewife-ish as she grew to be quite a little homemaker. It was kind of unsettling at first, but she seemed happy and healthy enough. She always loosened up the act when she got a little wine in her, so Tim knew that the real Katherine was somewhere in there.

  The only one who seemed any worse for the wear was Chaz. With each visit, he looked more browbeaten and haggard than before. Every chance he got, usually when Millard was otherwise occupied, he’d beg Tim to get him out of there. All Tim could do was to tell him he was working on it.

  Other than that, Millard’s Fort was a good place to unwind after a week of continuously almost dying. Tim found that the sooner he started drinking, the more he could enjoy his host’s hospitality without all the qualms and anxiety that came with doing so while secretly planning to murder him.

  *

  One morning, Tim woke up with the sense that something was amiss in the Whore’s Head Inn. Maybe it was too quiet. Maybe it wasn’t quiet enough. More than the normal number of people seemed to be looking at Tim. And to make it more unnerving, whenever he looked back they turned their heads and pretended they hadn’t been looking. A quick glance around showed him that the same was true for Dave, Julian, and Cooper – especially Cooper – and that none of them seemed to be aware of it yet.

  There was a buzz in the air, a certain electricity. Tim thought he would have been able to recognize it if it had been hostility. This felt different. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Gentlemen,” said Frank, emerging from the kitchen and clapping his hands together. The unusual quiet turned to absolute silence and no one bothered pretending to not be looking at the four of them.

  “What’s going on?” asked Tim.

  Frank lowered his head. “They know.”

  “What?” said Tim. “How could they know? You said it was as important to you as it was to us that this be kept a secret!”

  Frank shrugged. “Word leaked.”

  “Who leaked it?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Frank said, putting up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

  “Well if it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me,” Tim snapped his head around to glare at his three friends. Dave and Julian shook their heads immediately. Cooper was busy rubbing his back against a post.

  “Dammit, Cooper!” said Tim.

  “Wha?”

  “Who did you tell about Millard?”

  “I didn’t say shit.”

  “Don’t you lie to me, Cooper!” Tim stomped up to Cooper, fist cocked and ready to punch him in the dick. “Spill it!”

  “Honestly,” said Cooper. “I didn’t say anything to anyone!”

  Tim stared furiously up into Cooper’s eyes. Cooper’s stare back down at him didn’t waver in the slightest. Tim believed he was telling the truth.

  “Shit,” he said. He turned back to Frank. “If it wasn’t any of us, and it wasn’t you, then who could ha—” He scanned the room. “Where is that little shit?”

  “Who?” asked Frank.

  “Fritz!”

  Fritz slowly came out from behind the beam where he’d been hiding. “I’m sorry, Tim,” he said. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Not your fault?” shouted Tim. “You only had two things to do, and the easiest of those was to keep your goddamn mouth shut!”

  Fritz wasted no time in passing the blame. He pointed at Gorgonzola. “He saw you sneaking around with Frank, whispering in the shadows, and wanted to know what was going on. He Gather Informationed me!”

  Tim paused for a moment, more confused than angry. “He did what?”

  “He’s got six ranks! I’ve only got a seven for Wisdom. I take a penalty on Will Saves!”

  Tim turned to Gorgonzola. “And who did you tell?”

  “I told Stuart.” Gorgonzola’s voice was not in the least bit apologetic.

  “Why?” Tim demanded.

  Gorgonzola shrugged. “I like Stuart. I thought it was an interesting piece of information to share.”

  Tim found it difficult to focus his anger on Gorgonzola. He scanned the crowd until he came to Stuart. If Gorgonzola had looked unapologetic, Stuart looked positively antagonistic. He wore a grin that split his bald head in half.

  “Okay, Stuart,” said Tim. “Who did you tell?”

  “I told everyone.”

  “Why would you do that?” pleaded Tim.

  Stuart glanced at Cooper. “I didn’t want anyone to miss this.”

  “Miss what?” Tim’s voice betrayed a combination of fear and anger.

  “Fritz?”

  Tim looked at Fritz, who was still cowering back in the shadows. His face and demeanor still reeked of fear and apology, despite him being the only one with a reasonable excuse for having talked about the secret mission.

  “Jesus, dude,” said Tim. “You’re forgiven, all right? What’s up?”

  Fritz lowered his head. He reached into his cloak and produced a polished cherry box, which he lay on the table in front of him. “Here’s your stake,” he said meekly.

  Tim raised his eyebrows. “Fancy box. You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “It comes with the Masterwork Weapon package,” he said. He let out a small squeak and covered his face with his hands.

  “Dude,” said Tim. “Really, it’s okay.”

  More squeaks escaped the throats of several others in the crowd. Tim looked around. Mouths were covered. Eyes began to water. But nobody was crying. They were trying desperately to contain laughter.

  “What the hell is going on?” Tim asked Frank.

  Even Frank was biting his knuckles. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Open the box.”

  Tim approached the box cautiously, attempting to use his Detect Traps skill on it. He couldn’t detect any such thing, but he unlatched the box as if spring-loaded sharks were going to pop out of it. He lifted the lid slowly until he had a clear view of what was inside. When he had determined the contents were safe, he opened it all the way.

  The inside of the box was lined with red silk. Tim nodded in approval. If the weapon was as skillfully crafted as the packaging, he would certainly get his plus one bonus To Hit.

  A white silk handkerchief covered the weapon itself. Tim lifted one end to reveal a po
lished wooden point as sharp as any needle. He pulled back the handkerchief. The point gave way to a polished black shaft, decorated with blue ridges meandering out in haphazard directions, like roads on a rural map. Or was it more like… NO!

  Tim slammed the lid down on the box and turned around to face Cooper. Laughter erupted so deep and loud that he felt like he could swim in it.

  “Cooper,” Tim whispered to himself.

  Cooper walked toward Tim. People who had control of themselves got out of his way. Those too overcome by laughter to move, he shoved to one side. It didn’t seem to bother him. “What’s in the box, Tim?”

  “Cooper,” pleaded Tim. “I’m sorry, but I need your help.”

  The laughter had calmed down to the point that their conversation was audible.

  “You know I’ll do anything for you,” said Cooper.

  The laughter cranked up to a higher level than before.

  “Remember,” said Tim. “It’s for Katherine.”

  “What’s in the box, Tim?”

  The laughter subsided once more as people shushed each other until the room fell silent.

  “Come on, Tim,” said Stuart. “Open the box.”

  Tim looked around, hating everyone and everything he saw. He tried to hold back his preemptive hate for Cooper, but it was at the forefront of his mind, ready to be deployed. He lowered his head, opened the box, and removed the handkerchief.

  Between Tim and Cooper lay six inches of wooden, heart-piercing vampire death which flowed into two feet of black, veiny, mushroom-headed cock. It was a giant dildo.

  “I’m sorry, Tim,” said Cooper. “I’m not putting that in my ass.”

  “Cooper,” Tim pleaded. “You’re the only chance we’ve got. Yours is the biggest asshole here.”

  “Want me to lube it up for you?” said Stuart. The remark earned him a few chuckles, but the mood of the crowd seemed to have turned nervous, as if they thought maybe the joke had gone too far.

  “Second biggest,” Tim corrected himself. That got a warmer reception from the crowd, but the nervous tension still hung in the air.

  Cooper grinned. “There’s no way I’m shoving a giant cock up my ass. Let’s have some drinks and we’ll think of another way.”