by G. R. Cooper
Bael’s father had been king for longer than Bael had been alive, and the prince had never met his sire’s sire, who had been king before him. There was no concept of grandchildren among the fey. They could not physically reproduce until their parents had died, for whatever reason. That made sense to Wulfgar - otherwise an immortal people would soon have a population problem. The only way that Bael could have children before his parents died were to be if he became king in his own right; king of his own people.
That gave Wulfgar an idea.
“What would it take for you to become a king on your own?”
Bael shrugged, “Suitable land. And the desire.”
“If I were to provide the land, would you have the desire?”
Bael looked around, “Here?” He looked up at Wulfgar who nodded. “It would need to be someplace that my people would like to live. Someplace much like our home on the island of Baile.”
Wulfgar remembered back to the first quests he’d taken in this world, which ultimately led him to Bael’s home - an island in the eastern sea. Dropped among the roiling waves of the ocean, its sea smacked cliffs rose into long kilometers of rolling hills.
“To the southwest. In the corner of the kingdom directly to the west of the walls, there is an area that might be satisfactory.”
“It would have to be our land. Not held in fealty to you or anyone.”
Wulfgar nodded in thought. He wasn’t sure that he was willing to cede any portion of his kingdom; but the faerie would be a valuable and powerful ally to have.
“I understand. Before we can talk, you should explore the area. To make sure that it’s suitable for you. There is no point in formalizing it now, in any case. We have to win this war to worry about whether or not any of this land belongs to us. Once we do, then we can talk.”
Bael nodded. He seemed lost in thought. Wulfgar assumed that was a good sign - assuming that he decided that he wanted to provide land for the faerie.
Wulfgar looked up. They had reached a copse of woods, nestled up against the lake. It wasn’t large, but it was dense. Dark. Something about the woods looked wrong. Bael seemed to notice it too, but he said nothing. The group spurred their horses and soon left the little wood behind.
After another hour’s slow riding, Connor suddenly dropped from his horse and bent into the grass. He looked to the south, then back eastward. He seemed to concentrate for a few moments, then looked up to Wulfgar and Corwin, waiting patiently on their mounts.
“Orcs. A small party. They went through here about half an hour ago.” He looked back down and reached to the dirt. “Four, maybe five. Not moving quickly. I’d say a slow trot.”
Wulfgar dismounted and moved in next to the ranger. He looked through the grass and dirt but could see nothing apart from grass and dirt. He looked to Connor, “Ranger skills? Tracking?” After the ranger nodded, he continued, “What does it look like to you?” He smiled, “Just curious.”
“Depends on your skill and what you’re tracking, of course. But in this case, I can see bent grasses that are off color. The greater the skill, the greater the color difference is. The bigger the track, the greater the color difference is. That’s part of what your experience tells you. It doesn’t just put up a dialog box that tells you how many of what came through when. I can tell that there are four or five from the number of tracks,” he pointed around the immediate area, “and since they were not running in a single-file, it’s easier to tell.”
“Unless there were a lot of them running in four or five lines,” said Corwin.
“True,” nodded Connor, standing, “but I can also see individual footprints. The ones here are not ground down or messed over like they would be if there were a lot of beings following the same trail. I can make out individual tracks in each of the lines. That’s why I’m confident that there are only that many.”
“How do you know they’re orcs?” asked Wulfgar, standing and remounting.
“Size of the feet for one. Also, there’s like an aura, for lack of a better word,” he said, following Wulfgar’s lead and climbing onto his horse. “The skill does tell me that whatever made these tracks is not human. Is evil. The rest, I can see from the trail. It’s fresh. It’s heading that way,” he said pointing toward the south.
The orcs, if Connor’s reading was correct, were heading toward the town; making a direct line whereas the humans had followed the shore of the lake. The orcs and humans had probably passed each other while the humans were on the lake-side of the small wood. An hour’s slow riding, plus however long the loping strides of the orcs had taken them, separated the two parties now.
“What are we waiting for?” asked Wulfgar as he turned his horse back to the south. Bael dropped to lay forward on the horse’s head as Wulfgar spurred it into a gallop.
As urgent as he felt the war preparations were, Wulfgar couldn’t pass up the opportunity for this pursuit. He needed a release from the planning and plotting, and kicking the shit out of some orcs fit the bill perfectly. The land flew beneath his horse’s hooves, and he idly wondered if these orcs - if orcs they turned out to be - were part of the same clan he’d encountered on his first trip into this land. He had taken the oath of an orc captain not to raid human villages for a number of years, but he was not at all sure of the trustworthiness of the orc. Even if the orc in question kept his vow, there was nothing that prevented any other orc clans from raiding.
They crested a small rise, about thirty minutes into the chase, and Wulfgar smiled grimly as he saw that there were four orcs climbing the other side of a small hollow. They were running, head down, and still oblivious that they were being driven down.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wulfgar saw Connor draw his new bow and nock an arrow, still at full gallop. He assumed that Corwin was likewise arming himself. Bael rose from between the horse’s ears. He seemed to be preparing a spell of some sort.
As they drew near the bottom of the ravine, the horses jumped a narrow stream and the orcs finally realized their danger. They turned as one, drawing various swords and axes. One raised a large wooden buckler, and Wulfgar kneed his horse toward that one.
Connor whooped loudly as he rose in the saddle, still at full gallop, and let fly an arrow. Wulfgar watched as smoke trailed from the fletchings and the point hit home in the center of an orc’s chest. The creature dropped to one knee as it exploded in fire. Its screams of pain and rage filled the valley.
The horse was still five meters from the shielded orc when Wulfgar reached into the small of his back and drew Shepherd’s Sting. He leaned into the horse’s neck on the opposite side of his chosen target and dropped out of the saddle as the horse plowed through the small line of orcs. The orc shield went flying as the horse continued, riderless, up the other side of the valley.
Wulfgar rolled as he hit the ground and came up behind an orc that was turning to follow Corwin, a few seconds behind Wulfgar. Activating Stealth - he was mildly surprised and happy that it worked and guessed that none of the orcs was looking at him at the moment - he moved in behind the orc and thrust between two of the orc’s ribs.
“Critical Hit!”
“12 points of damage!”
“18 points of damage, Hidden Stab!”
“You have poisoned your target!”
“Your target is stunned!”
“Congratulations! You have gained a level in Hidden Stab!”
“Congratulations! You have gained a level in Small Blade!”
Wulfgar howled in exultation as he ducked a sword swing from the other orc, standing just to the left of his compatriot, now writhing on the ground. Wulfgar grinned viciously as he stepped to one side and, turning toward his new opponent, activated Blade Wind.
The skill took over his body and he spun. His sword arm shot out as he turned and his jaw dropped in horror as Shepherd’s Bite launched from his hand and flew past the orc’s face.
“Critical Miss!”
Oh, for fuck’s sake! thought Wulfgar as he pus
hed backward, falling into a roll to get as quickly away from the orc as possible. He crabbed backward for a few paces then fell onto his back. He raised his right arm to the orc and snapped a Fire Shot off.
“6 points of damage!”
“You have inflamed your target!”
As he continued scrambling away from the attacking, burning, orc, all he could think was, That’s not the normal definition of inflamed! I wonder if it’s grammatically correct?
The orc stood over Wulfgar, fire spreading across the creature’s torso and face, and raised an axe. An arrow shot over Wulfgar and hit the orc between the eyes, knocking it backward and to the ground, still and lifeless.
Wulfgar sighed and lay fully onto his back, he looked up to Connor and nodded his thanks.
“Is that all of them?” he asked into the afternoon sun.
“It is,” answered the ranger.
Wulfgar sat and saw Corwin bending over Wulfgar’s first target, pulling a dagger across the creature’s throat.
“It is now,” added the dark man, wiping his poniard on the orcs chest.
Wulfgar looked around. The first orc that Connor shot lay on his face where he’d been hit - an obviously deadly blow was dealt by the ranger off the bat. The orc that Wulfgar’s horse had run down lay near it, Bael sitting on its chest, wiping his tiny blade clean. A second, gory, smile beneath the orc’s chin spoke of the damage that the faerie had done.
“That was a nice minute’s work,” said Wulfgar happily as he stood. As always, killing orcs gave him actual physical pleasure.
Corwin walked up to him and handed back Shepherd’s Bite. He grinned and said, “All except for that last attack. You trying to turn this into a throwing knife?”
Wulfgar smiled sheepishly and re-sheathed his blade, “That wasn’t exactly what I intended to do.”
“It had style, anyway,” laughed Connor, as he unstrung his bow.
Wulfgar laughed out loud as he climbed back onto his horse, “Anyone need any healing?” He looked through the group as they shook their heads. It was an almost perfect ambush. Just what the doctor ordered. He watched as Corwin and Connor looted the corpses. Only a few coppers. Even the weapons were of low quality. This was a low level band.
But they were heading for my people. They needed to die. He probably could have left it for the others. Shannon, Snorri and Lauren could have easily taken care of these, but he had felt a responsibility in addition to the desire to just kick the living shit out of something. He felt a small sense of pride - he’d protected his kingdom. His people.
He motioned to the other two to toss the corpses into a pile, then, as Connor and Corwin mounted, Wulfgar dropped a Fire Shot into the stack. He sat back, smiling at Bael as he turned his horse back toward the distant wood. They spurred their horses forward as black smoke rose into the sky, marking the last resting place of four very unlucky orcs.
As evening fell, the group reached the verge of the elven forest. The trees were tall - nearly as tall as redwoods - and straight. Wulfgar imagined that they must each be thousands of years old. The woods were physically imposing, but not dark. The openness between each tree allowed verdant grass swaths to make up most of the floor. The waning sun shone through the trees from the west, sending long shadows onto the purpling lake behind them.
“We should probably make camp soon,” sighed Wulfgar. The woods might not be frightening, but he didn’t relish the thought of wandering through them at night. Two hundred meters into the trees, he dismounted and began gathering fallen branches and twigs to build a fire. The other two humans did likewise, while the fey prince moved to the saddle of Wulfgar’s mount and lay back, watching the preparations. As the darkness deepened toward night, a faint glow seemed to surround Bael.
“They know we’re here,” the prince began, “but we’re unlikely to be approached until morning. Day and night mean nothing to the elven folk. They don’t sleep. But if we’re lucky enough to be taken to their king, they’ll want to do that in the morning.” He shrugged, “It is the way of things.”
“Suits me,” said Corwin. “I assume they see better than us in the dark.”
“And the light,” agreed Bael.
“So, I’d just as soon not go any further until I can see better.” He sat as Wulfgar dropped a fireball into the pile of wood.
“Congratulations! You have gained a level in Fire Shot!
Wulfgar smiled, happy with how the day had progressed. As much as he had to do, and as much as he was worried about forgetting something, he was satisfied with the accomplishments of the day.
And getting level three in Fire Shot is just the icing on the cake!
He pulled out several items that he’d bought from Enquire Arenis before leaving Edonis. He dropped three large sausages into an iron skillet and put it into the fire, then passed two large stoppered clay bottles to Corwin and Connor before opening a third for himself.
“Bael! Do you want some beer? Some food?”
“Thank you, no,” said the faerie from his horse perch. “We don’t eat human food. I am fine. Again, thank you.”
“What about milk and butter?” asked Wulfgar, thinking back to the very moment he’d first met Bael. Snorri had brought those two substances, legendary as gifts acceptable to the faerie folk.
“We don’t eat that, we just accept it as our due offering. Something that humans can sacrifice for us. It’s just a show of respect, one that even the poorest farmer can manage.”
Wulfgar nodded and looked back to the others, and bent to shake the skillet, keeping the sausages moving. As he did he took a sip of the beer. It was amazing. A nice Czech lager. Surprisingly cold.
I wonder if Enquire’s skills include making beer that always stays at the correct temperature.
“Oh, man. This is good stuff,” said Corwin. Connor nodded agreement.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg,” added Wulfgar. “This is made by the guy who will hopefully be coming to the town to setup a shop.”
“The mayor,” added Corwin gravely.
Wulfgar nodded, “Yeah.” He gave the skillet another shake and looked at the other two. “You think I’m being a bit naive, right? Giving the mayorship to someone I’ve never met.”
Corwin shrugged, “It’s your town.”
“But you have a stake as well. I want to hear your view.”
“I don’t really have a problem with it,” Connor replied, “I mean, I assume that you can remove any powers that you give the guy.”
“And that goes for the rest of us as well,” added Corwin.
“That’s true. I have that power. I can revoke your plots of land at any time.” He had noticed before leaving Marchstone that they had all taken a quest. “And I’m not even sure I can give away the kingship. There’s no option for it, at least.”
“So if this cook decides to turn into a little dictator, you can get rid of him. That’s all I’m really concerned about,” said Corwin, eyeing the pan on the fire.
Wulfgar pulled the skillet out and held it across the fire. Corwin and Connor each took a sausage. Wulfgar put the pan on the ground next to him and grabbed the last wurst. He bit through the skin and into the juicy meat. His mouth flooded as the various spices played on his tongue.
“Holy shit,” said Connor.
Corwin rolled his eyes in agreement, “Oh man. I take back what I said. If this guy’s food all tastes this good, he can be as much of a dictator as he wants.”
“Where are you guys from? If you don’t mind me asking,” said Wulfgar after they’d finished their food and beer and leaned back against their packs, relishing the memory of the meal. The night was darkening quickly and flickering shadows spread from the central fire in all directions. “I’m from Virginia. I was a software development project manager,” he began.
“Moscow,” answered Corwin. “I was a student.”
“You speak amazingly good English,” said Wulfgar, impressed. The man had no accent at all - he could have been from anyw
here in the United States.
Corwin laughed, “No. Not a word. You speak amazingly good Russian.”
Wulfgar nodded in understanding. Everything in this world was translated into the player’s native language. That made sense, and explained why he had only encountered American English accents so far.
“You both speak amazingly good German,” said Connor softly, smiling over across the fire. “I was a house wife. A grandmother. After my husband died, I lived with my son’s family. His wife needed little help and my grandchildren were old enough to be mostly self-sufficient,” he shrugged, “so I gamed a lot in the last few years.”
He smiled again, looking between Wulfgar and Corwin, “I don’t know why I chose to be male in this world. I never really cared one way or another about my sex, or about having sex. That hasn’t changed.” He shrugged, “I guess I just wanted to see what it was like to have a penis.”
The other two laughed.
“How is it so far?” asked Wulfgar.
Connor made a non-committal gesture, “The only use for it here is sex. I’m not interested in having sex.” He smiled, “So no difference really. I’m just glad to no longer have to carry around my massive boobs!”
They laughed again. Wulfgar looked at Connor closely. There was nothing about the ranger that seemed wrong or out of place. He was what he was. A player. A human player. A human player who didn’t seem to want any particularly close relationship with another player. Wulfgar imagined that a life spent raising children and grandchildren and caring for families could engender a need to be alone.
Maybe being a ranger, spending a lot of time wandering alone, is perfect for Connor.
Wulfgar smiled at them. The silence was lengthening, in danger of becoming uncomfortable.
“I’m glad to have you both here. Very glad,” he said. His mind stretched for something to talk about. He looked into the flickering flames, made brighter by the deepening darkness.