by Rachel Ford
“That looks like a precarious climb,” Karag said.
“Really?” Arath asked. “What gave it away: the sheer rock wall, or the fact that it’s covered in morning dew – so slippery too?”
“That bridge might hold your weight,” the giant went on, ignoring the other man, “but I wouldn’t want to trust my life to it.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, me either.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” Arath said. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
Jack rolled his eyes at him. “Some help you are.” He took a deep breath and walked toward the edge. There was nothing for it, after all. He hadn’t seen any mushrooms before this, and there didn’t seem to be any ahead of them either. He would have been able to see their silver shimmer otherwise.
Then, he remembered the fiasco of the night before, with the thieves’ guild initiate – and he pulled up his game interface, and navigated through to the save menu. Only after he saved, and confirmed his save, did he return to the game.
His companions were all watching him. Grem’tha pawed the ground. “Don’t. Don’t, Jack. He will die.”
“Send Arath,” Grimlik suggested. “Send nasty Arath. Stay on ground, where it is safe.”
Arath had a few crude words for the goblin, and Jack shook his head. “No, guys, I’ll be fine.”
Karag watched him with a dubious expression. “I’m certain many dead men uttered such words immediately before they expired.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.”
“I am confident,” the giant countered. “Confident that this will end badly.”
Arath snorted. “Nice.”
“I recommend you reconsider your options, Jack.”
But Jack didn’t. He’d already considered his options: get the mushrooms or give up. And he couldn’t give up. So that meant he had no choice but to try for the mushrooms. So he leaned over the ledge – and gulped.
It was a long way down. A very, very long way down.
“Don’t,” Grem’tha pleaded. “Don’t, Good Jack.”
“Go on, Jack,” Arath encouraged. “Show us how it’s done.”
Karag said nothing. He just sat there with his jaw set and arms folded.
Pouting. Like a big baby, Jack thought, sourly. But then he ran out of distractions, and excuses. It was go time, put up or shut up time. Either he went over the edge, or he didn’t. Either he went after the mushrooms, or he didn’t.
He did. He turned so that his back faced the void, and lowered himself down the side. He tried to find a foothold. For a long, terrible moment, his toes slid over the damp canyon rock. But then the tip of his right boot found purchase on a little outcropping of stone, and his left located a nook a moment later.
Jack drew a long, shaking breath and let himself down further. He made it half a length of his own body down when he felt the most terrifying feeling: his boots, slipping. His lower body dropped and flailed as he tried to catch a toehold somewhere – anywhere. His fingers lost their grip, the slimy wet stone sliding through them before he could stop them.
Jack started to freefall – and to scream. Indeed, he was so intent on screaming that he missed the sensation of something powerful clasping onto him. Only when he realized that he’d stopped falling – and not because he was dead – did he stop screaming, and glance upward.
Karag leaned over the edge of the cliff, perched precariously, Jack’s arm caught in his giant hand. “Stop flailing,” he ordered.
Jack did so immediately, feeling a little silly for having been caught in his pre-death panic. The giant hoisted him to safety, and stepped well away from the ledge before setting him down.
The goblins swarmed him as soon as he touched earth, patting his arm and checking him for injuries. “Thought he was dead, I did. Poor Jack. Good Jack.”
“Warned him, warned him we did. Dangerous, the cliffs. Dangerous.”
Arath stood leaning up against a tree, watching with amusement. “Oof, that was a close one, old bean. Still, it was pretty hilarious. You scream like a little girl when you’re scared. You know that?”
“I think you need to find another way,” the giant said mildly.
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming to see it your way, Karag.” He pushed himself to his feet, assuring the goblins he was fine. Then he brushed the dirt off his person. “Thank you, by the way. I owe you.”
“It’s not the first time I saved your hide, and I doubt it’ll be the last,” the giant said airily.
Jack frowned, and not only because the other man was probably right. “How the heck are we going to get those mushrooms if the canyon walls are too slippery to climb?”
“Always slippery. River wet,” Grimlik said. “Make walls wet. Always.”
It was nonsense science, of course – videogame science. Still, no amount of being annoyed by it would solve the problem. “I need some way to get down there.”
“Shouldn’t go, not good Jack. Slip and die, that’s what he’ll do. Slip and die.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Arath said.
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”
The ranger surveyed him coolly. “Now that’s some bloody cheek, mate. You haven’t even heard my idea, and you’re already deciding you don’t like it?”
“Smartest thing you’ve ever done, Jack,” Karag nodded.
Seeing that his words hadn’t chastened the rest of the team into soliciting his input, Arath offered it anyway. “I was going to say, you should send one of the goblins.”
Grem’tha squealed and Grimlik hissed. “Keep its forked tongue in its nasty mouth. Cut it out, I will.”
“Don’t say that, good Arath. Not that. Long climb. Very frightening.”
Jack nodded. “Forget it, Arath. If I can’t do it, they can’t do it.”
The two goblins exchanged glances and started to whimper.
The ranger laughed. “You’re a sap is what you are, Jack my friend. Goblins are great climbers. Some of the best you’ll ever see. They can get all kinds of places a man can’t get. Isn’t that right, you little vermin?”
Grem’tha turned piteous eyes his way. “Hush, Arath, hush. Poor Grem’tha dies of fright.”
Grimlik just hissed again.
None of which, Jack noted, was a contradiction. Even Grem’tha’s worry that she’d die mentioned dying of fright. “Hold on. Is he right? Could you two do that?”
The goblins again began to wail and shriek. “Such a long way down. Forget mushrooms, Jack. Forget them.”
“Wicked fish below. Want to make snacks of goblins, they do. One wrong step, and they eat well.”
Arath snorted. “Pity the fish.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Karag interjected. “Listen Jack, and listen well: it might be the only time in my life I agree with that worm. But I think Arath is onto something.” The goblins and the ranger all snarled in unison. But he paid them no mind. “Arath’s got a bundle of rope in his pack. We can secure it around the goblin’s waist, and lower them down.”
The pair shrieked all the louder at that. “No, no, Jack. Don’t let him do it. No tying goblins. No binding goblins.”
“We wouldn’t be tying you up,” Jack assured them. “Just making a – a kind of harness of the rope. For your safety.”
But his words made no impact. They just wailed and wept and threw themselves at his feet, begging for mercy. He had the impression that they’d seen goblins bound and led away at some point – and it hadn’t been a pretty picture. He found himself wondering with a lump in his throat if this was some kind of familial trauma they’d touched upon. Had these two seen their parents captured and hauled away, bound and helpless?
So he rested an arm on each of their shoulders, and promised, “It’s okay, Grem’tha. It’s okay, Grimlik. If you don’t want rope, then we won’t use rope.”
“Jack promise?”
“Promise, he must. Promise: no rope.”
So Jack promised, and the goblins wept tears of joy. Arath loosed a hiss of disgust, and Karag watched the scene with inscrutable curiosity.
Once the siblings had composed themselves enough, Jack said, “Alright, I’ll take the rope, and go down myself.” He glanced up at the ranger, who made no move to hand it over. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Can you hand me the rope?”
Arath shrugged. “Sure. But it’ll cost you.”
Jack frowned at him. “Cost me? I’m not even asking to keep it, Arath. I just need to borrow it.”
“Rent it: you need to rent it. Twenty gold, and it’s yours for the descent. Fifty, and you can use it both ways.” He smiled, clearly quite pleased with himself.
“I’m not paying to use the rope. You’re a member of this team, Arath. It’s about time you started acting like one.”
“Cut his throat,” Grimlik suggested. “Feeds the fish, he could. And we take what we need.”
“The goblin’s wisdom is hard to contest,” Karag said.
Jack scowled at the other man. “I’m starting to think you’re right there too.”
Grem’tha put her hands to her ears, like she couldn’t abide the idea. “No, no. Not good Arath.”
Grimlik hissed and started to berate her. “Good? Good? What’s good, sister? Stupid, clumsy thief. That is all. Greedy, he is. And stupid. Stupid and clumsy.”
“You already said that, old bean,” the ranger laughed. “I don’t think you’re getting through to her, though. She doesn’t think I’m stupid. Do you, Grem’tha? I’m ‘the handsome one,’ remember?”
The goblin wailed at the sound of her name but didn’t uncover her ears. She shook her head, and protested, “Stop, stop. Can’t take anymore, not poor Grem’tha. Can’t take it.”
Grimlik seemed chastened by her words, because he bared his teeth at the ranger and beat his knuckles against the ground. But he said no more.
Jack, meanwhile, felt his ire reach new depths at that. It was bad enough that Arath exploited this poor, simple creature’s infatuation to steal the rocks she picked up along the way. It was bad enough that he regularly mocked her and Grimlik and taunted the rest of his crew. It was worse that he would reduce them to such a state. But to refuse to even share a rope? Why had the game even assigned him as a companion, if he never meant to help?
He turned abruptly, letting loose a stream of invective. He’d got about two sentences in – just into the opening salvo about what a lowdown snake Arath was – when Grem’tha loosed another wail, and bounded for the edge of the cliff.
The words froze on Jack’s tongue, and he spun around. Everyone else turned too. The little goblin reached the edge of the cliff in two long, leaping strides. Then, she swung herself over, holding on by only one hand.
Jack yelped and raced to the edge. Grimlik reached it a second before him, and Karag a second after. By now, Grem’tha had disappeared entirely from the view of the top of the canyon. But peering over the side, he saw her, her wide, broad fingers gripping the slimy rock with a practiced ease. She worked hands and toes together, like a tree frog, lowering herself a little at a time.
“Grem’tha go,” she said, when she saw the faces all peering down at her. “Get mushrooms, Grem’tha will. No more fighting.”
Grimlik hissed in terror and chattered his teeth like a man in cold temperatures might. Jack tried to call the goblin woman back. “It’s too dangerous, Grem’tha. We’ll think of another way.”
But she ignored them both and kept descending. She made it five feet down the wall, and then ten. Then, she reached for a handhold that gave out as she grasped it; and she was plummeting downward. She dropped like a rock, covering the last ten feet in the blink of an eye.
She landed on the ledge with a squeal, and the sickening crunch of broken bones. Grimlik began his descent at once. Jack turned back to Arath, his eyes blazing. “Give me that gosh darned rope, Arath, or I’m going to break your gosh darned neck and take it for myself.”
For better or worse, no necks – gosh darned or otherwise – were broken in the procurement of the rope. Arath handed it over, insisting that he’d only been joking all along. His team, he said, had no sense of humor. It should have been obvious to them that he meant to share, and so on.
Jack tied the rope around his waist, and Karag lowered him toward the pair. Grimlik had already reached his sister without incident. But he could do nothing for her. She was badly hurt and weeping with pain; and he had no way to ease her suffering, or to get her back to the top.
Jack rappelled down until he could stand on the ledge. It was a narrow fit, just big enough to accommodate himself and the two goblins. His first order of business was procuring a healing potion for Grem’tha. Then, her bones and organs magically knitting themselves back together, they began their ascent.
This consisted of the two goblins clinging to Jack, and Karag hauling the trio to safety. In a minute, they were all at the top of the canyon. The goblins professed their eternal gratitude. Karag seemed pleased with the outcome. He nodded Jack’s way with an approving smile. Even Arath seemed a little chagrined about the whole business, though of course he made no apologies.
Jack, though, decided to take advantage of the rope business now that he had it. Saving the game, he told Karag, “Let’s try that again. Lower me down, nice and slow, until I get to that bridge.”
Karag nodded, and they repeated the process of a few minutes earlier, sans the rescue operation. Instead, when Jack reached the ledge, he drew a deep breath and marched out on to the bridge, one halting step after the other. He got about eight steps out – maybe a third of the way – when he reached the end of his rope.
“I need some slack,” he called.
“That’s all there is,” the giant called. “Head back, and we’ll figure something else out.”
But Jack didn’t head back. He was too damned close to give up now. He could see the mushrooms right there in front of him. All he had to do was take a few more steps, and they’d be his for the claiming. So he untied the rope instead.
The goblin twins started to shriek, and Karag cursed him as a madman.
“Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll put it back on as soon as I’m done. I’ll be fine.”
The rope fell away from his waist and fluttered behind him. He took a step, and then another. The way was narrow, but easily wide enough to pass. He made a point not to look down. If anything was going to hose his brilliant plan, a bout of panic would do it.
He took a third step. Then a fourth. He thought his knees were trembling a little, because he seemed to sway, and he felt irrational anger at himself at that. Now was no time to wuss out. Then, he realized it wasn’t his knees. It was the bridge. The stone started to sway and grind underneath him. Chunks of rock fell away from the bottom – taking the mushrooms with it.
Down, down, down they went, landing with a horrible splash far below. He heard his companions screaming behind him, urging him to retreat.
“Oh sugar,” he thought. “I’m never going to make it in time.”
He didn’t. He spun around while gravity worked its wicked magic on the rocks. They swayed, and groaned; and then, five steps away from safety, the whole thing plummeted.
Down, down, down.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jack expected to die on impact, but he didn’t. He died about ten seconds later, as a school of razorbacks ripped him to pieces.
He loaded back on top of the canyon, with his companions at his side – before he’d proposed rappelling down in pursuit of the mushrooms. “You know,” he said instead, “that bridge doesn’t look very sturdy. I think we need to forget about trying to get the mushrooms on foot.”
His companions agreed.
“A good eye,” Karag nodded. “I don’t think it would support foot traffic.”
Which saved him a little face in front of his group, sure. But it didn’t solve the mushroom dilemma.
Bu
t here the giant came to the rescue. “You know, that might be the solution, actually, Jack?”
“What? Kill myself so I don’t have to keep worrying about this crap?”
“No. Destroy the bridge.”
He didn’t see how feeding the razorbacks his mushrooms would help the situation, which he told the giant.
“We wouldn’t let them fall, of course.”
“How are we going to stop them? We can’t even get down there.”
Karag shrugged. “I think a simple levitation spell would do the trick.”
Jack snorted. “Sure. That’d be great, if we had a levitation spell. But I don’t.”
“But, my dear Jack, I do.”
He blinked. “You’re kidding?”
“Of course not.”
Now, he laughed. “Well, why didn’t you mention it before?”
“It never seemed important before. Now, it does.”
Jack clapped the giant on the arm. “Dagnabbit man, you’re a genius. I think you just figured it out.”
It took a few attempts to knock the bridge down. Fireballs didn’t do it, and neither did ice magic. In the end, Jack, Arath and the goblins hurled boulders of various sizes over the edge. Some hit the bridge, and some missed and went sailing down toward the razorbacks. Once or twice, Jack got a notification that his experience points had climbed – which he took to mean that one of the stray throws had been a kill shot.
Eventually, though, the bridge went down, and Karag levitated up the segments in question. Jack harvested the fungi he needed, and the party descended – in markedly higher spirits than they’d ascended.
Until they had to deal with the razorback menace, anyway. By now, the cavern’s magical lighting system had started to mimic daytime and sunlight. So Jack could see clusters of razorback eggs in the weeds, in a foot or two of water. They were hard not to see: they were as large as chicken eggs.
Harvesting them proved – in the game’s vernacular – a real mother trucker, though. Jack’s method was simple: leap into the water, grab the egg, and run like hell. It still took him almost a dozen attempts, and half a dozen deaths, before he got all three.
Then, half ready to help Karag make good on his threats to eradicate the fish once and for all, Jack concentrated on getting away from the Minor Kalven. As with the first time, he and his party suffered damage every time they had to pass within leaping damage of the river.