The great beast hissed, an ugly, terrifying sound. Ralph tried to catch his breath as the Komach’Kreel whirled around, sniffing the air. As he turned, great sizzling streams of drool escaped his jaws.
Ralph felt a stinging sensation on his arm. He looked down and saw where one of the droplets had landed, burning his skin.
Through the pain, he realized what had to be done. Grabbing the d20, he threw it to Cammi. No team of adventurers had ever defeated a Komach’Kreel. How would this end?
Ralph turned to Gerontius. “Cammi needs to roll for you. We will use the portal to send you back to your world.”
“No, we will not leave you to this!”
Bram looked at Ralph. “If we cannot defeat him in our world, then we must in this one!”
“Roll it!” Ralph commanded. Cammi paused for a moment, then nodded. He looked at Gerontius.
“Gerontius casts a spell of divine fire,” he intoned, and rolled the die.
Gerontius whirled and placed his hands in front of him. Beams of fire like energy sprang from his palms and hit the creature square in the chest, pushing him back. Dazed, the Komach’Kreel shook his head to clear it. Before Andy could reach him, Cammi had passed the die back to Ralph, who didn’t hesitate.
“Protective Shield of Greater Good!” he yelled as he rolled, and Torgrim, already holding his amulet, chanted the phrase with him.
The great barbed tail of the monster swung around, knocking the dais off the stage. As it approached the group, it bounced off the invisible barrier, leaving no damage.
Andy cursed and pounded on the shield. Out of the corner of his eye, Ralph saw Warwick point at his son. Andy froze and then fell senseless to the ground. “I think you’ve made enough trouble for one day,” Warwick called as he joined the fighters onstage.
Noel tapped Ralph on the shoulder. He was with Bram, and both were grinning. “Our turn!”
“Roll for stealthy strike,” Noel said, throwing the die on the altar. It showed a 17.
As the barrier dissolved, Bram tucked and rolled directly under the creature’s legs, bringing him face to face with its plated underbelly. He looked out for guidance. Warwick yelled to him. “He has one weakness. There is a small space between the third and fourth plates!”
“Now you tell us!” yelled one of the GMs from the audience. Clearly they all still thought this was part of the event.
“I had to keep a few things out of the book.” The old man winked.
The Komach’Kreel opened its jaws and released a stream of fire, which missed the group by a hair.
“What’s taking you so long, you infernal rogue!” yelled Torgrim.
“Is it third from the tail or from the front?” asked Bram, counting furiously while trying to avoid being spotted by the monster.
“You know, I don’t recall,” said Warwick.
Ralph handed him the die. “Memory check.”
Jandia had had enough. “I will not let some die decide my fate. I go NOW!” It was clear that Jandia was going to rely on her own strength.
Jojo grabbed her arm, and Jandia turned to face her. Jojo let out a small yelp. Jandia’s eyes had turned a terrifying shade of red. As Jojo knew, this was the bloodrage, and once the barbarian went there, she would have to taste blood. She immediately released her grip on Jandia, who with a fierce bellow turned to charge the beast.
By this time, Warwick had rolled. It was a 15. He brightened. “Ah, yes. Third from the tail end. The slightly purple one.”
Jandia was swinging her sword at the Komach’Kreel, which clawed at her with its giant forelegs. She dodged the first two attempts, but as she raised her sword, the beast knocked her down with a sideways blow. She lay stunned and helpless as the creature reared back to deliver the death blow.
All of a sudden, it screamed in pain. Arching its back, it let out another howl. Salt and Pepper had found their marks.
Jandia, breathing hard, was still lying prone on the floor. There was no time to lose. Jojo rolled a 12. “Jandia uses the thrust with a strength of ten,” she yelled.
Wincing in pain, Jandia twisted her body and swung the massive blade around, cutting one of the legs of the Komach’Kreel cleanly off. The monster toppled to the floor.
Mirak and Penelope turned to Warwick. “Is there something else you have not put in your books?” Persephone asked.
“Yes, I suppose there is. But it requires the creature to be at lower health than he is now,” he said, scratching his chin.
Jandia had pulled out her sword and aimed for the neck of the creature. Raising her blade high, she brought it down onto the creature, who shrieked as her blade hit its mark.
From the side, there came another sound, an insistent thrumming rhythm, as Mirak began to strum her harp. Persephone had rolled an 18. The bard let out a long cry, both musical and strange, which agonized the creature. It looked up, dazed, trying to locate the source of the terrible music that tortured it.
As it writhed and turned, Ralph could see that the great ugly yellow eyes were dimming.
“Ah,” said Warwick, stepping forward. “I do believe its health is quite low now.” He retrieved the die from where Persephone had rolled it and intoned, “Banishment to the Abyss!” He rolled, and his eyes lit up. “Well, what do you know? A twenty! A critical hit!” He turned to Ralph. “You know, I haven’t played in ages. I forgot how much fun it is.”
Ralph wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, his eyes glued to the back wall of the ballroom. It seemed to melt, dissolving into some sort of dark and deep blackness, which pulled the creature toward it.
Bram ran over to the creature and hopped on its belly.
“What in the name of Mora do you think you’re doing?” shouted Torgrim.
“Salt and Pepper!” the halfling called. He was tugging at them, trying to pry them from between the plates in the belly where they were lodged.
“We will buy you a dozen knives!” pleaded Mirak. “Abandon these or be swept into the Abyss!”
Torgrim crouched down and took a deep breath.
Bram looked up. “Why, it is getting awfully close,” he called back cheerfully. Torgrim launched himself at Bram’s legs, holding on with all his might against the pull of the oncoming darkness.
“You will not leave us this way, Rogue!” he muttered.
With one final tug, the knives popped out, and the halfling and the dwarf tumbled onto the stage, just as the Komach’Kreel fell into the pit leading to the place of the Eternal Void. The back wall reappeared as if nothing had happened.
There was a moment of silence as the children and the heroes caught their breath.
Then the room burst into applause.
The fire department had been called, and the guests of the convention were filing out. Gary Beard kept apologizing to Ralph and the others, saying if he’d known they were the performers he wouldn’t have treated them like that, and why didn’t they say anything?
Declan had brought up his own RoD group to meet the kids and the heroes.
“That was fantastic,” a tall young man with a fuzzy ringlet of hair and a long neck told Ralph and Noel. “You guys were so believable.”
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” said Persephone, joining the boys. “Did you really like the performance?”
“Absolutely!” another of Declan’s crew chimed in, a short, squat guy wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a MAY ALL YOUR HITS BE CRITICAL T-shirt. “And the special effects were phenomenal!”
“Would you like me to autograph your badge?” asked Persephone.
“Um, that’s okay,” the taller one said, backing away.
As they turned to go, Persephone overheard the smaller one say, “Actually, I thought she was kind of overacting at the end….”
The taller guy nodded. “Totally.”
�
�Hey!” Persephone yelled after them. “I was NOT OVERACTING!” She crossed her arms and turned to see Mirak smiling at her.
“We have a saying in my home village,” Mirak said. “ ‘Even the lowly sparrow wants to teach the songbird how to sing.’ ”
“Yeah, we just say, ‘Everybody’s a critic,’ ” said Persephone with a pout.
* * *
The group had moved from the hotel to a small restaurant nearby. Warwick joined them, with the revived Andy, who looked stunned at the unexpected turn of events.
“It was all mine,” he kept saying to himself. “The power…I would have been known and feared throughout all Demos….”
Warwick patted his wrist. “Shush, now, Andy. Listen, do you want a grilled-cheese sandwich? Or how about some chicken?” He had ordered ribs and chicken by the pound for the whole table.
Jandia was tearing into half a roast chicken as Torgrim finished tending to her wounds.
He turned to Ralph. “Come on, young one. Let me see your arm.”
In the rush and excitement of all that had happened, Ralph had almost forgotten the burn on his arm. But he had to admit that as they walked over to the restaurant, the throbbing had become almost unbearable.
Ralph winced in pain as Torgrim grasped his arm with his big hairy hand. The cleric closed his eyes and recited a silent prayer.
It was astonishing. As the prayer continued, it was as if Torgrim were pulling out all the hurt. Finally, the dwarf removed his hand. No trace of an injury remained.
“There,” Torgrim said with a kind look in his eye. “All better.”
Noel nodded, impressed. And then he couldn’t resist. “At least he didn’t kiss your boo-boo.”
Torgrim looked irritated. “Is that some sort of expression for something untoward? Because I’ll have you know, you little—”
“No!” Ralph assured him. “It’s what your mother does when you’re a kid.”
Torgrim gave them both a look that suggested he didn’t completely believe them.
Noel’s eyes widened as he looked at Torgrim. “Dude. You’ve changed….”
“If this is one of your little games, Noel,” Torgrim sputtered.
“Torgrim. Look,” Ralph said softly, holding up his phone with the selfie camera on.
The dwarf peered at the phone. Staring back at him was his face. There was definitely something new about his appearance, although it was hard to decide just what.
“I can feel it. My soul is healed. But…but how?” he stammered.
“Remember how you had to perform one selfless deed to lift the curse?” Ralph asked. “Well, during the battle—”
“You risked your own life to save Bram from falling into the Abyss with the monster!” Noel had to jump in.
Ralph glared at him. “Let’s face it, you were going to take too long telling it,” Noel said simply.
“My fellow travelers, look upon me!” Torgrim called out to his friends. “I am healed!”
“You are indeed!” said Mirak. “Both inside and out!”
“Now I shall have my choice of dwarvish maidens!” Torgrim exclaimed happily.
Bram and Jandia exchanged glances.
“What?” asked Torgrim.
“You still aren’t exactly the pick of the litter, if you get my meaning,” Bram said.
“Hmph,” snorted Torgrim. “What do you know? Rogues never tell the truth.”
Noel had gone to sit by Warwick. “I still don’t understand why Andy summoned the adventurers here.”
“Do you wish to tell them, son?” Warwick asked Andy, who glowered at him and said nothing.
“It goes back to the start of RoD,” Warwick began, taking a bite of his grilled-cheese sandwich. “It has been part of the history of the game that I am its inventor. This is not exactly true.”
Ralph gazed at the old man, and suddenly it all became clear. “You’re…you’re not of this world, are you?” he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “You’re the last wizard. The one who divided the scepter.”
Warwick closed his eyes and took a breath. Everyone at the table was now listening. “Yes, Ralph, that is correct. But that is literally ancient history.” He gave a small smile. “I did that without consulting the spirits of my fellow wizards. As punishment, the Old Ones banished me to this world, giving me a chance to make something of myself in a world without magic. All I had were my spellbooks, and knowledge and skills that did me little good.
“I met Andy’s mother and tried to do all sorts of things. I failed at every one. In time, my memories of my home world began to fade. So I created Reign of Dragons in order to remember them. I told tales of my adventures to Andy and his friends—”
“And one of those kids’ dads was the guy who invested in making the game and became your partner, and tried to take the game away from you—OW!” Noel cut in.
Jojo had poked him in the arm with a fork. Jandia gave her an approving look.
“I read the official history of Reign of Dragons like a hundred times,” Noel said, looking sheepish.
“Don’t mind him,” Persephone said. “We want to hear it from you.”
“I had told Andy and his friends mostly the truth, at least where the scepter was concerned,” Warwick continued.
“Not the whole truth,” Andy sniped. His arms were crossed, and he was pouting.
“I could not trust you with the whole truth. I put a false fifth scepter in the published adventure so that you would never know.”
Andy glared at his father. “You could have shared it with me once I found your spellbooks and discovered your secret.”
“Andy, my son. I tried to help you.” Warwick turned back to the others. “I had brought the last of the serpents, the Golden Serpent of power, with me as one last precaution so that no one in Demos could ever collect all seven. Then came the day when Andy begged me to send him to my home world. He had never been able to come out from behind my shadow, so I felt I owed him this. There was still enough magic in the one serpent, and he was not banished, as I was.”
Gerontius leaned in. “This is where you became Andromodus, ruler of all Athanos.”
Andy smiled at the memory. “Here on earth I was a nobody. The son of the great Warwick Wycroft, creator of the beloved Reign of Dragons. But on Demos, I was king. I had a court and was able to send out countless adventurers to search for the serpents of the scepter.”
“Was ruling Athanos not enough?” asked Mirak, shaking her head.
Persephone nodded in agreement. “You got what you wanted.”
Warwick sighed. “For some, like Andy, there is never enough.”
Andy waved his hand dismissively. “What I wanted was to be the True King of all Demos. For this, I needed the scepter.”
“Ultimately, I waited until at last the true fifth serpent was revealed. For thirty years, I had watched as groups playing the game found the bone serpent of the kobold’s rib, which we all thought was the one they needed.”
Ralph remembered that from the story. He didn’t dare look at Persephone.
“Only when that girl set her bard to the challenge of the minstrel’s was the true serpent revealed.”
Persephone looked like she was going to burst.
Ralph sighed. “All right, Persephone, say it.”
“It was my story! The one you all hated!”
“I didn’t hate it,” said Cammi. “I thought it was cool, remember?”
“The point is, the moment she stumbled on the true serpent by discovering the flute-shaped serpent, I could feel it. It was time to return to the world of my birth and claim the Golden Serpent from my father.” Andy’s mouth was set in a tight line. “But he had disappeared, having sold the company years earlier. He had feared this day might come. He had melted the Golden Serpent down—”
Jandia beamed.
Warwick hadn’t taken his eyes off his son the whole time he was telling the story. “I thought I was being so careful. I kept an eye on who had reached the end of the adventure, and that’s when I sent the dice out to the different game masters.”
“You had to bring the group with the Serpent Flute into our world,” Ralph said to Andy.
“It was tricky to come up with a spell to add that last page to your notes,” Andy replied, “but I knew once you had it, you would use the portal and the die would take care of the rest. I had already rejoined the Mages of the Midwest, who were delighted to have a Wycroft associated with the product.”
“All you needed to do was come up with a way to gather all the dice in one place,” said Cammi.
“It wasn’t easy to convince the company to bring you together to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of the Serpent Module, but once I did…”
“You would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for us meddling kids!” said Noel.
“Something like that,” muttered Andy.
Noel turned to Gerontius. “That’s from a famous cartoon show. That’s why it’s funny.”
Gerontius nodded politely. Cammi whispered to him, “I’ll explain it later.”
“There’s still something I don’t understand,” said Noel, always one for logic. “You just created the game, not the world. How did the characters we created end up there? That makes, like, no sense.”
Warwick nodded in approval. “That’s a very good question, young man. Although I should have hoped that by now sense would be the last thing you would rely on when it comes to my story. The truth is that the world I come from possesses deep magic, and it hated the chaos and uncertainty that splitting up the seven serpents caused.”
All five of the kids were hanging on his every word. The old mage reached for a rib. “These look extremely good.”
The Game Masters of Garden Place Page 19