Dagger of Doom: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 5)

by Rachel Ford

  So he slipped back into bed feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He figured he’d sleep well after his midnight excursion.

  He might have, except that he hadn’t factored in the changing of the guard. The new shift brought new patrols – and their route took them right past the inn. Right past his window.

  And these dwarves were as musically inclined as the rest of the city’s watchmen. As keen on exercising their dubious talents, too. Right outside his window.

  So Jack didn’t sleep for a very long time. Not with the steady tramp of feet and the constant refrain of, “Boots, boots, boots on the ground,” streaming in from beyond the window.

  When he rose, he found a note on the nightstand by his bedside.

  Hey Jack,

  Jordan here. I logged in, but you were asleep. Your vitals all looked good, and I didn’t want to wake you. I know how much sleep you’ve missed lately.

  Have a great day,

  J

  PS I put a latte and a breakfast roll in the chest at the end of your bed.

  He smiled at that and added the note to his inventory. Then, he checked the chest. And, sure enough, she had a huge cinnamon roll covered in glaze and a piping hot latte waiting for him. They tasted as fresh as the moment they’d been spawned.

  He took his time eating and drinking, savoring each bite and each sip. Then he got to his feet and roused the rest of his companions. “Time to move out.”

  “Move out?” Grem’tha repeated.

  “Hasn’t eaten, poor Grimlik,” her brother wailed. “Not a bite. Not a morsel.”

  “Neither has ‘poor Arath,’” the ranger put in. “And he’s not going nowhere until he’s had a plate full of eggs and bacon, and maybe a pint of ale to wash it down.”

  “I should like to eat before we head out too, Jack.”

  So, outvoted, Jack gave in, grumbling about the long day ahead of them as he did so. Still, he made a point of telling the serving girl, “Separate checks, please.” He was not about to repeat the Red Fox incident.

  “Of course, sir,” the girl said. “What can I get you fine folks today?”

  One by one, everyone ordered. Jack got a plate of eggs and biscuits, with a side of bacon. He hadn’t felt hungry after his cinnamon roll, but that had been before he’d come out and smelled fresh food.

  Then they sat and waited for their orders to arrive. A few other patrons glanced their way. Some whispered, and some called out.

  “Hail, travelers.”

  “I hope your stay has been good.”

  “Strange news out of the town, eh?”

  Jack replied politely but disinterestedly to the inquiries, although this last one left him confused. Still, he nodded along. “Very.”

  The speaker – and old gentlemen who had already consumed a plate of mutton chops and eggs – hobbled over. “Aye, very strange. What’d you hear about it?”

  Jack stared at the old man, his mind racing. He had no idea what to say, because he had no idea what they were talking about. “Well…uh…I’m not sure there’s any truth in it.”

  The old man nodded. “That’s what I thought. But then Betsy there told me. And she’s got it on good authority, because her sister-in-law’s cousin, he…well, he works for them. The guild, I mean.”

  None of this clarified anything, but he tried to play along. “Oh, the guild. Right.”

  “What her cousin told her is, it was one of the recruits. His initiation night. He had to go rob the local shops. So he put on a guard’s uniform.” The old man grinned and nodded, as if whatever happened next in the story amused him no end. “So the initiate, he heads to that magic shop on Fourth and Commerce. He’s just about to start picking the lock, and lo and behold, someone else is unlocking it from the inside.

  “And not just anyone someone: a thief. Only, he ain’t with the guild. And he’s human, too.”

  The old man nodded expectantly, so Jack murmured, “A human? Really?”

  “Aye, as human as you or your friend there. Strange business, that. Lots of humans coming in and out of the gate, I guess. Anyway, the human calls ‘isself Arath, and he’s caught red-handed. So he tries to bribe Betsy’s sister’s cousin-in-law’s friend. Five thousand gold, that’s the number I heard.

  “Anyway, Betsy’s sister’s cousin-in-law’s friend takes the bribe. And why not, am I right? He takes the bribe, and then – it gets better, friend: he tells him to turn over his stolen property. Says he’s going to return it to its rightful owner. And this wet-behind-the-ears human, what do you think he does?”

  Jack felt his cheeks flaming. He knew exactly what that wet-behind-the-ears human did, because he recognized the story as clear as anything: it was his misadventure from the night before. A little embellished, sure. But his story all the same. Still, he managed a reasonable impression of surprise. “He didn’t do it?”

  The old man clapped his hands. “By Ivaldi, he did – he did. Do you believe it? What a fool.”

  Jack shook his head. “An absolute idiot.”

  The old man cackled and nodded. “But what did you hear?”

  Jack shrugged. “Oh, pretty much the same thing. I hadn’t heard the bit about handing over his goods, though.”

  The old man nodded again. “That’s the best bit, innit? Unbelievable. And the cheek of that recruit – can you imagine the cheek it must have taken to pull off a thing like that?

  “I tell you, I’m no more for the thieves guild than anyone else. But sometimes, you’ve got to admire them, haven’t you?”

  Chapter Forty

  The old man’s name was Galar, and he was a retired bard by trade. Jack knew this because Galar decided to detail his entire life story, or so it seemed, within five minutes of meeting the stranger. He narrated his marriage and subsequent widowhood; spoke of his eight children; talked about his career, and his stint as a traveling bard outside the dwarven realm.

  And he might well have gone on longer if their food hadn’t arrived. But at the sight of the overflowing trays, he clapped Jack on the back and wished him well. “And if you meet this Arath fellow in your travels – well, buy him an ale, or something. Have pity on a fool.”

  Jack laughed half-heartedly and assured him that he would. Then Galar ambled off, and Karag laughed mightily. “Well, well, Arath…had a busy night, did you?”

  The ranger sputtered indignantly. “I never. I slept like a babe in his mother’s arms the whole night through.”

  “Sure you did,” Karag snickered. “I’m sure there’s plenty of humans running around with your name, plying your trade.”

  Jack laughed too, as if the idea was absurd. He hoped the heat he felt in his cheeks didn’t radiate through and give him away.

  Luckily, though, the food and the ferocity of Arath’s denials distracted his companions. The more he protested, the less Karag and Grimlik believed him. He was the boy who cried wolf personified in the moment: he’d lied and cheated and stolen so many times that no one believed him. Even Grem’tha seemed a little disappointed as she gnawed at an uncooked beef shank.

  And though he might have been a lout for it, Jack felt no need to enlighten anyone. The rationalization proved easy enough. Arath had done him plenty of bad turns. It was about time he did something for the team, and so on.

  He wasn’t proud of it. But he’d be damned if he was going to admit to being taken so colossally, either. So he ate his breakfast and wondered if he’d have time to dig into the thieves guild. A nice retribution run might be fun. They had to have a headquarters in the area. Maybe he could sneak in and steal back what they’d taken – and a little extra for his trouble of course.

  But then breakfast ended, and his happy fantasies vanished like mist before the sunrise. Avenging himself on the thieves’ guild wasn’t in his agenda. Mushroom picking and hunting for fish eggs were.

  Which, of course, was the exact opposite of how he would have played in any other circumstance. If he didn’t need to race the clock, he’d already
probably have joined the thieves’ guild by this point in the game. He probably would have found it in the first city he came to and exploited the perks of membership in each stop along the way. Why rent a room when he had a guild membership? He’d stay at the guild hall. Why go to regular merchants, and pay regular prices, when he could stock up at the guild fence? And then there’d be training to build his more nefarious skills – stealth and lockpicking and so on.

  And instead of doing things like that, rather than joining the thieves’ guild and being a pestilence on every city he came to, instead of building his skills until he was a one-man crime spree…he’d been taken by a thieves guild recruit. A recruit. He was the laughingstock of the realm. And now? Now he had to go looking for mushrooms and fish eggs.

  How the mighty have fallen.

  Still, for all his internal griping, he didn’t have much left on his list. He needed three silver cap mushrooms, three razorback trout eggs, and a hart’s heart. Once he’d collected all that, he only needed to trade it in and be on his way.

  He checked in with the publican before he left. He hadn’t seen them in his reconnaissance the day before, and he didn’t want to waste time searching blindly. “Anyone around here sell silver cap mushrooms?”

  The dwarf shook his head. “No sir. They sell too quick for that. Usually, they come into the city on commission – and they’re already spoken for. Your best bet is to go forage them yourself.”

  Jack groaned.

  “They grow pretty well down by Frar’s Canyon.” At the sight of Jack’s blank stare, he added, “Just follow the Minor Kalven until you reach the canyon. But stay clear of the water: those razorbacks’ll jump out at you and gobble you up if you get too near.”

  So far, two of his three quest items required that he follow that river. Jack hoped his luck would hold. “I don’t suppose there’s any harts out that way?”

  But the publican shook his head. “Oh no. If you’re looking to hunt, set your steps for the Crimson Vale. You’ll find plenty of game there.”

  The Crimson Vale lay north of the city, and could only be reached by a circuitous route. Which, in practical terms, meant a long hike. Jack decided to get the hiking part out of the way first. So he and his companions set out.

  They walked for four solid hours before they finally reached the vale. And, if he’d been less annoyed by his reason for visiting, Jack might have enjoyed what he found. He might have even loved it.

  Natural light filtered in from a break in the stone overhead, looking a little red against the stone. Trees and grasses and every kind of shrub and bush filled the cavern. A quiet, burbling stream ran through the vale, and fed half a dozen pools and ponds. Abundant fish jumped out of the waters, and insects buzzed this way and that. Red deer and brown moved in small herds through the valley. They glanced at the newcomers, but showed no fear. Foxes darted in and out of patches of shadow, and rabbits and squirrels went about their business with little attention for the strangers. Birds chirped and sang from tree limbs.

  Grem’tha clapped her hands together in delight. “So many things to eat, all in one place. Birds, fish. Deer, and squirrels. Oh, so many good things. Foxes too, and rabbits, brother.”

  Grimlik licked his pale lips, plucking fat flies out of the air as they passed and gobbling them up. “Worms too, I think. Plenty of worms here.”

  “Yes. Good soil, rich soil. Many worms.”

  “Yay,” Jack said sourly. Then, though, he got to the business at hand. He scoped out one of the herds, equipped his bow, and picked a target near one of the pools. A moment later, the great stag crashed to the earth. And he got to the grim business of collecting his heart.

  Mercifully, the game didn’t make him actually go through the business of gutting the animal. He simply had to rest his focus on the downed animal, and harvest what he could with a thought – which included two pounds of venison, and the heart of a hart. The game’s rules about when he had to actually perform a task and when he could essentially just issue a mental command seemed a little hazy, but as near as he could tell it had to do with skill. He could search the pockets of a downed man, and so he had to do so if he wanted to collect their items. But he didn’t have to be a skilled butcher; so he could collect meat – or hearts – without actually butchering the animal.

  Which worked alright in his book, even if it did come with disadvantages. The goblins harvested meat that the game made unavailable to him. Grem’tha gnawed at a leg as they made their return journey, and Grimlik chewed on the creature’s shoulder.

  For once, Arath and Karag seemed to be of one mind: for they both watched the little goblins with disgust.

  Jack was disgusted too, but he was more annoyed with the game than anything else. So he focused on the return trip, driving his companions at a brutal pace. They reached town by late afternoon.

  He didn’t go directly to Olksana’s shop, even though he had what she needed. He figured he’d collect everything first, and do all his shopping when they returned from Frar’s Canyon – probably sometime early the next morning.

  He ignored his party’s grumbling about sore feet, too. He wanted to be done, and if he could maintain his current pace – well, so could they.

  They reached the river by late dusk, and only then did Jack question the wisdom of his plan. The razorback trout were everywhere, like an infestation of the Minor Kalven. They jumped out whenever they sensed anyone approaching the banks – just like the publican had warned they would. And their scales and fins and teeth looked every bit as terrifying as Var had promised.

  Both of which Jack could ignore, except for two facts: one of the objectives of his current mission was finding razorback trout eggs, which had to entail getting near the water; and the path narrowed so sharply in places that they had barely a foot of walking space beside the bank.

  He considered his options. He could cast a light spell. It’d do nothing to keep the fish away, but at least then he’d be able to look for the eggs – and hopefully spot the trout before they attacked. Or he could save that particular objective for later, after he solved the mushroom business.

  Jack’s mind was made up as they crossed a particularly narrow ledge over the water, and one of the razorback’s leaped up – and took a good chunk of flesh out of his backside.

  Razorbacks can wait until morning.

  So they hustled posthaste along the river, hoping the canyon would appear sooner rather than later. The goblins clung to Jack, and when that didn’t save them – one of the razorbacks made off with a piece of Grimlik’s leathery forearm skin – they climbed him, clinging to his neck and shoulders.

  The reek was almost unbearable. But his efforts to dislodge the little monsters elicited piteous wails and reminders that he’d promised to protect them. So he gritted his teeth and marched on as fast as he could.

  The going proved perilous. Though they did their best to distance themselves from the water’s edge, they nonetheless all took damage from the horrible trout. Karag snarled and roared like an angry lion as they gnawed at him. He vowed bloody revenge. He swore that he’d poison the river at its source to kill them all if they didn’t let up.

  Arath whimpered and clung to the cave walls, keeping as far from the riverbank as he could. He made the mistake of swatting one of the fish, and suffered a deep gash in his hand – so deep it cut into bone itself. The ranger had collapsed at that, grasping at his injured hand and squealing as piteously as the goblins until Jack shut him up with a healing spell – and a threat to put him permanently out of his misery if he didn’t stop whining.

  They reached the canyon shortly before midnight. The river raced through it with no room on either side for walking. There were only sheer walls and razorback-infested waters below.

  But shortly before the path disappeared, he saw a trail diverged off the main one, following a steadily uphill arc. He almost missed it in the dark but spotted it at the last moment. He paused, staring ahead at the path that vanished a hundred feet befo
re him, and the walk that stretched on out of view. “This must lead to the top of the canyon,” he decided.

  Karag grunted. “I don’t care where it leads, as long as it gets us away from these miserable fish.”

  Arath didn’t need a second opinion, though: he’d already started scrambling up the trail, well in advance of everyone else. The goblins waited until Jack carried them a few strides away from the water’s edge, and then leaped off. “Free,” Grimlik said with a throaty breath of relief. “Free at last.”

  “Horrible fish. Cruel and ugly.”

  No one disagreed. They just followed their way up. It climbed steeply for a long ways, until at last it evened out. As Jack had predicted, it ran along the upper edge of the canyon, overlooking the river below.

  “Alright,” he said, “now remember: we’re here for mushrooms.”

  Grem’tha smacked her lips. “Find beetles too, maybe.”

  “Yes, yes: many beetles, where mushrooms grow.”

  Karag shook his head, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He seemed, Jack thought, to be in a much better humor now that he wasn’t being snacked on. “Beetles too? Well, I can hardly wait.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  They didn’t find mushrooms – not silver caps, and not any other kind. Not until they’d followed the canyon for a good two hours.

  They reached a spot where the river narrowed, and the canyon walls drew nearer together. Spanning the gap between the two, maybe twenty feet below the top, was a thin strip of stone – a kind of natural bridge. And growing on the underside of that bridge was a cluster of shimmering mushrooms – a good three hundred feet above the water and rocks and razorbacks below.

  Jack groaned. “Sugar. I should have known it wouldn’t be as easy as just finding ‘em and picking ‘em.”