“Neveh did like this heah hahdtack,” Rutger said, holding up one of the dense crackers made of flour, water, and salt.
“Have t’ ask Owen if he can make this heah taste betteh,” said Turin, holding up his own piece of hardtack.
“My fath… the Mayoh says John’s the one who brought them new dishes t‘ the Wolf’s Head,” Robin said.
“Really?” asked Rutger, “Tried thet dish with the noodlehs. Tasty stuff theah.”
Robin grinned and said, “Noodles. ‘Trusted Companions’ they called it.”
“Thet was a good one,” Jeffery said.
“Thet Pizza dish was John as well?” Rutger asked.
“Ayuh,” said Robin.
“Didn’t like thet so much,” said Turin then he bit into the corner of his hardtack and said, “Might be thet John can make these betteh if Owen can’t.”
“This’ll help,” Rutger said, pulling some cheese from his pack.
Turin reached for it and Rutger almost dropped it when a crowd of goblins ran out of the Underground Kingdom and stopped at the ring of light cast by their campfire. They were mostly male but there were a few females in their number. They blinked at the guards, some of them holding their arms up to protect their eyes from the firelight. The town guards blinked at them, Turin reaching for a sword that wasn’t currently on his hip. The mob of green creatures yelling, chittering, and screeching bolted into the underbrush heading north. The stunned guards barely made it to their feet before the last goblin vanished. The group didn’t go far before they turned to the west, running up the hill that covered Kiningdom Burruh.
Rugter finished handing the cheese to Turin and said, “Least they ain’t heading f’ town. Nothing out that way but forest an’ then the mountains.”
Robin sat back down on the log he’d been seated on, leaned forward, and put his head in his hands. His father was not going to be happy about this.
“We goin’ afteh them goblins theah?” Turin asked.
Jeffery thought it over for a moment then said, “Can’t see in the dahk but they can. Gonna have t’ track them goblins in the mornin’. F’ t’night we betteh staht standin’ guard at thet door.”
“Ya think them goblins were runnin’ from our folk in theah?” asked Rutger.
“Runnin’ from somethin’ t’ be sure,” Turin said, breaking off a piece of the cheese.
In the hobgoblin King’s private chambers the Kiningdom Burruh party found a scene reminiscent of the breeding pits. There were half a dozen female goblins, clothing torn, dead. They’d had bad deaths and it left the adventurers with a deeper loathing for hobgoblins and a deeper pity for the plight of goblins. Being doomed to birth your oppressors was a terrible curse.
The room must once have been opulent but its occupation by the hobgoblin King and his harem was hard on it and its accoutrements. The massive canopy bed had no canopy. The mattress was dingy and torn. The pillows lining the sunken circle in the center of the room were various shades of grey, their original color could only be speculated upon. Wooden wreckage and shards of glass were likely once elegant furniture.
There was no treasure chest but there was a pile of gold coins, precious stones, jewelry, and several items made of gold or silver in the corner of the room nearest the bed. They’d almost missed it but as John turned to leave the room Shirak coaxed a glimmer of reflected light to peek from beneath a covering of broken wood and cloth in the corner. It was a generous pile likely collected from every part of the Underground Kingdom and brought to the hobgoblin King to win his favor.
“Why do ya think it was buried undeh all this mess?” asked Sebastian as they stood and looked at the horde.
“Hobgoblins always bury their treasures,” Nash said, “With these stone floors, this was the best the King could do.”
“Not hidden very well, why do ya suppose them hobgoblins didn’t take it afteh thet king was dead?” asked Timmon.
“Figuhe they had otheh things on theih ugly little minds,” Tianna said glancing at the bodies of the female goblins in the the middle of the room.
“Not gonna leave this heah,” said Raif, “Mind putting it in yar coat theah John?”
The Marksman nodded and began loading the pile into the inside pocket of his jacket. The gold coins were numerous, about the size of a silver dollar, and thicker. They had an image of the doors leading into Kiningdom Burruh on one side and an image of a man with angular features, long hair, and a short goatee on the other side. There were gold goblets with various gems set in them and silver cups with fancy tooling. A silver horn was in the pile that John was tempted to blow on but he resisted. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and more were in the pile as well as many gold rings and necklaces, most with jewels or stones or both set in them. It took a while to get the pile into his jacket and he was more than thankful that his pockets negated weight.
They left the hobgoblin King’s private chambers and the throne room heading back down the corridor that led to it. They walked in silence, each lost in thought. John would not be able to avenge his fallen friend, vengeance had been stolen from him. He didn’t feel unfulfilled by that. He hadn’t killed the King but he’d struck the blow that led to his death, he was sure of it. He didn’t feel at fault for the instability created by the dark monarch’s death either. The dominoes that brought the tribe to ruin had been set in place long before John and his companions came to this place. Knocking the first one down defending himself and his friends was a simple accident, not an act of malice.
A sour growl broke John’s quiet contemplation. He glanced around but saw no red auras. The sound came again and, blushing, Gregory said, “Sorry ‘bout thet,” as he placed a hand to his stomach.
“Ayuh,” said Sebastian, “early breakfast and skipped lunch. Hungry myself.”
Gregory grimaced, “Hungry but theah ain’t no way I could eat a bite in this stench.”
Timmon looked over at this friend and corrected him saying, “Hungry but theah’s no way I could eat a bite in this stench Greg.”
“Thet makes two of us Tim, thet makes two of us,” said Greg putting his hand sympathetically on the Packer’s shoulder.
“I think I might know a place where we can get out of this rotten smell,” John said and he started leading them back toward the large kitchen and the dining room. The beautiful chime that sounded in his head had within it the word ‘Justice’.
Aidan and Erin Herm sat in the common room of the Wolf’s Head Inn enjoying Owen’s Stew. It was and wasn’t the same stew that was served daily in the inn all of the years the tall, slightly portly man was the presiding Innkeeper. The broth in this version wasn’t watery, instead it was slightly thicker, a thin gravy. The vegetables weren’t just boiled in the broth, they were first roasted. The depth of flavor in the dish was elevated and impressive. The slices of bread that traditionally accompanied the inn’s old favorite had been replaced by rolls that were baked with a piece of cheese in the center. It was very good fare and Aidan was glad something special was being served on the night he was treating his mother to a dinner out.
“Thank ya again f’ bringin’ me out f’ dinner. I wouldn’t’ve minded cookin’ of course but it’s nice to be saved the effort an’ the washin’ up,” Erin said. Her brown eyes smiled. She was a slender woman who had been shorter than him since his voice cracked for the first time as a young teen. She was wearing a pink dress with lace at the neck and cuffs that she only took from the closet for special occasions. “How was yar day t’day?” she asked.
Aidan finished chewing the bite of roll in his mouth and swallowed. It was a good one with plenty of cheese in it and he was sorry to hurry it down. “Got a few deliverhs,” he said, “Got asked what I’d charge to deliveh a letteh t’ Fenburah.”
Erin looked shocked then schooled her face. In as calm a tone as she could manage she asked, “Who wanted t’ know thet?” Aidan rolled his eyes and took a bite of stew. “I wouldn’t talk t’ them ‘bout it. It’s jest such a dangerous thing theih suggestin’.” She reached for her roll and said, “Shouldn’t be askin’ a boy to risk his skin like thet,” under her breath.
“I only get a few delivehies ‘round town heah,” said the young Runner. “Need to staht making runs ‘tween Knollburah and Fenburah.”
Erin scowled, finished chewing her roll, and swallowed before saying, “Ya’re gettin’ too old to run messages and packages ‘bout. If ya’re lookin’ for betteh pay ya should look inta bein’ a town guard like yar fatheh. Bet ya could be an archeh.”
“I want t’ run,” he said without a trace of the whine he would have had in his voice just a year ago, “and I don’t want t’ be like dad.”
“Yar fatheh,” she emphasised the word ‘father’, “is a good man. He’s jest got a peculiah way ‘bout his humor.”
“I think that peculiah way he’s got is called ‘selfishness’ or mayhaps ‘hubris’,” the young man said and his mother sighed.
“Yar father is a good man. Ya jest can’t see it. It’s jest a phase ya’re goin’ through.”
They didn’t talk very much for the rest of their meal. Erin because she didn’t want to ruin such a wonderful dinner with arguing. Aidan because he was busy considering the benefits of training as a guard to gain the survival skills he’d need as a Runner with a route between towns.
“Thet theah hole is how ya got inta this place?” asked Sebastian pointing at the mansized hole near the bottom of the wall in the collapsed end of the corridor. The adventurers had made good time finding the spot even with Nash obsessively cleaning skylights as they went. Dingo Boy was able to lead them unerringly to the spot where he and John had originally fallen into Kiningdom Burruh.
The Tracker’s stomach growled again and he said, “Very interestin’ to see this but the smell is still in the air heah.”
“Hold on just a minute,” said John. He pushed a stone in the wall opposite the hole and a secret door opened partially. After some rubble was removed it was able to open all the way. “I was hoping this would be here somewhere. There’s a chance the air on the other side of this dead end will be better.”
As before John was the last one into the secret passage so he could close the door behind them. Once again he squeezed his way to the front of the line and he led them until he found the next stone set in the wall to open the door. He pressed it and the collection of stones making up the camouflaged door swung out. It opened into a large room filled with weapons and armor. The air was slightly musty but not foul.
“Right this way!” said John, bowing slightly and inviting the rest of the adventurers into the room with a sweep of his arm. After they’d filed out of the hidden way he used a stone on the wall to close the concealed door behind them.
The holy light gleamed off of the hilts and inlaid grips of almost two dozen scabbarded swords standing in racks along one wall. There was a line of tables containing well crafted knives and hatchets. The knives had silver inlay in their grips and the hatches had gold inlay in their handles. Another line of tables was filled with quivers that were, in turn, filled with arrows. A rack on the back wall held seven bows similar to those carried by Tianna and Sebastian, all of them had different scenes carved on them. Flanking an arched doorway were fourteen crude dummies, seven on each side, wearing leather armor that was reinforced with scalemail. Each dummy wore a leather cap with scalemail and metal ornament in the aspect of an animal. Eleven of them were tailored for men and three were tailored for women. Raif, Griffon, and Tianna started inspecting items of personal interest. Raif drew a sword from its scabbard and turned to grin at the rest of the party, pointing to the unmarred blade. Griffon laid a hand lovingly on the scaled breastplate of a suit of armor. He realized it was one of those created for a woman, blushed, and moved over to one created for a man. Tianna drew an arrow from a quiver and held it up to show Sebastian. It was tipped with a sleek broadhead, the edges were serrated with supple curves. The fourth wall in the room had steel bucklers on it bearing the same shape as the broadheads on the arrows. In the midst of them was a wooden door.
“We better check that doorway,” said John pointing to the opening in the midst of the suits of armor. He moved toward it and the others followed him. None of them saw any auras, red or green, in the room ahead so they walked in boldly. Dingo Boy trotted in ahead of them.
They found a smaller room with a few tables each complemented by four chairs, several work benches with an array of tools on them, and a few anvils of differing shapes. In one corner was a large forge, bellows and all, and in the corner adjacent to it was a large pile of coal. Like the armory behind them the forge room had a wooden door presumably leading into the corridor outside. John used two of the chairs around the tables to secure the wooden doors so they wouldn’t open without a great deal of force and noise.
“Air ain’t gonna tuhn my stomach in heah,” Gregory said meaningfully.
Taking the hint John pulled two cloth wrapped stacks of pizza slices from his pocket. They were still pleasantly warm. Gregory took them with a smile and passed a slice each to Timmon, Sebastian, Tianna, and Raif. The slices did not stick together and were only slightly squished. From the next bundle the Tracker gave Griffon a slice then Nash then John and he kept the last one for himself. The Marksman pulled a dried sausage from his pocket and gave it to a very happy Heeler whose tail wagged with vigor.
“Sure am glad ya got thet theah coat,” Tianna said, enjoying the warm food.
“Cold pizza ain’t bad neither,” said Gregory.
“Cold pizza ain’t bad either, Greg,” Timmon corrected him.
“That’s jest what I said Tim,” Gregory shot back with a smile.
John pulled out two more bundles of pizza slices and a second sausage for Dingo Boy who locked onto it with ‘Sausage is Life’ intensity. After wolfing it down he shook out his mystical silver bowl and flipped it upright with a paw. Once it had filled with water he lapped some up happily.
“Still warm,” John said with a chuckle and took a bite from his second slice. “Does anyone want anything other than pizza for dinner?” No one did.
“A suppeh of this heah pizza afteh the day we’ve had is mighty fine,” said Riaf.
“Ayuh, much betteh than hahdtack,” Griffon said.
After they’d finished eating Timmon started pulling their bedrolls from his massive pack. John walked over to examine the forge and Nash joined him. “Think we can light this thing to take the chill off?” the Marksman asked the Angelic Shard.
“Let me check out the chimney,” Nash said. He laid his hand on the stone hood above the open forge. After a moment a bunch of dirt and roots fell out of it. He looked sheepish and said, “Sorry about that, it had a clog.”
A relatively small pile of coal produced a large amount of heat. The bellows took the coals from red to nearly white hot each time they were worked. Soon the chill was driven from the room. Nash stood watch over the glowing forge and in short order the weary adventurers were all asleep.
“I wondered how long it’d take you to find me,” her smile was in her voice.
The scent of wildflowers washed over John. He was sitting in the Wolf’s Head Inn, a cup of tea in front of him. Next to it was a plate containing a pastry filled with cheese, pickled vegetables, and partridge meat. He didn’t turn around. He was afraid to. He slumped forward overcome with emotion. Someone stepped up behind his chair then hands rested on his shoulders. The touch was familiar and sweet. His tears fell on the table in front of him narrowly missing the plate. He took a deep shuttering breath and laid his left hand on the one resting on his right shoulder. He knew it like he knew his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. When he said her name it was through a sob. “Lynn.”
She leaned into him, wrapped her left arm around him, and hugged him. Her wavy brown hair tickled his face and he leaned into it. “I’m here Sweetlove, I’m here.”
“Where’s here?” he asked, turning toward her. She was full of life and beautiful. The cancer had left her features thin and her eyes sunken. She’d been returned to health, restored to vigor. Her dark brown eyes were full of delight. The poncho she wore was oilskin like his jacket and dark green in color. Her pants were an American frontier version of the cargo pants she’d always preferred. On her feet were hiking boots made of deerskin with leather laces.
He stood and she stepped forward and hugged him. Her scent weakened his knees. “Can’t tell you that. You’d run right for me but you have a job to do. We’ll have forever together but not in these worlds.”
“I’ve missed you so much, I love you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too Sweetlove and I love you. I’m sorry about Dingo Boy. We’ll see him again when our jobs are all done.”
“He’s missed you too,” John said, still hugging her. He didn’t want to let her go.
“He was a good boy. When he wasn’t a complete jackass,” she said laughing. She pulled away from him enough to kiss him. It was almost a chaste kiss. He didn’t push for more but he did kiss her in that fashion several times.
“We’ll have forever together,” he said looking deep into her eyes, “behind the Gates of Heaven.” The wondrous chime that rang out from everywhere and nowhere had the word ‘Hope’ in it.
“Remember to pray and seek the Almighty in everything. We can’t make our roads shorter but we can make them longer,” she gave him a smile that broke his heart.
“Can you stay here with me?” he asked, pulling her back into a hug.
“Only as long as this dream allows,” she said and snuggled into him. After a moment she looked down at the plate on the table and said, “I thought this place only served bread and cheese and stew.”
Nash watched the last of the embers in the forge fade. His eyes were drawn to John’s jacket, resting on the back of one of the chairs at a table. With a sly smile he dematerialized then rematerialized right next to it. He didn’t want to risk waking any of the sleeping party by walking across the room. After taking a deep breath to bolster his courage he reached into the jacket and pulled out his anchor. He quietly walked into the armory to examine a hole high in the far wall that he had noticed earlier. When he grew tall enough to peer into it a slight breeze stirred his curly dark hair. He found a stone tunnel about eleven inches in diameter. After carefully placing the revolver into it he shrunk down until he could comfortably stand upright in the tunnel. With a jump and a few sweeps of his wings he flew from the stone floor to the stone tunnel at the top of the wall. It was very exhilarating. The limited distance he could stray from his anchor had kept him earthbound. Maybe John would let him take the gun for a flight when they were outside. The thought almost made him giggle.
Nash, shrunken down to a height of eight inches, was trying to figure out how to pick-up the revolver. It was about as long as he was tall. He bent down with the idea of heaving it over his shoulder when a familiar voice boomed in his head, “What are you doing Little Shard?”
Nash stumbled and fell on his butt, his wings splayed behind him. No wonder John hated being startled. The huge face of Nathanael was peering at him from the armory outside of the tunnel. “I was just going to do a little exploring,” Nash said sheepishly.
“You were taking your anchor because you are limited in how far you can move from it?” The Virtue asked.
“I was going to bring it back. I like my job! It’s just really stinky out there,” Nash pointed in a direction he hoped was toward the foul smelling section of Kiningdom Burruh. “I felt the air flowing from this tunnel and noticed it smells fresh and…”
“And you thought you could help if you could find a way to bring in more fresh air?”
“Yep. The bad air was making Gregory sick. He didn’t want to eat and he loves eating.”
“That is a worthy endeavor and a kindness. I requested a gift for you, it will help you in your task.” Nathanael held up a golden seed that lit up the tunnel when he set in near the gun.
Nash reached down to pick it up and paused, “A gift from who?” he asked.
“The Almighty,” said the Virtue reverently.
When his hand touched it the seed broke into motes of light that flowed over then into Nash. He felt warm and more of something he couldn’t quite put into words. The closest he could come to describing the sensation would be to say he felt more real. No. Complete? Still not right. He felt like there was more of him but he didn’t fill it up.
Nathanael reached into the tunnel and touched the revolver. Bright white light spread from the point of contact, coating the gun which vanished. The panicked look on the Nash’s face made the Virtue chuckle.
“Shhhhhhh!” said Nash looking toward the smithy where the rest of his party was sleeping.
“Have no fear, I simply returned John’s gun back to where it belongs.” Nathanael shrunk down and teleported from the stone floor to stand next to the Little Virtue. “Do you mind if I come with you?” he asked.
“Sure, I mean no, I mean… we’re the same size! Also, the gun, my anchor, is back in John’s jacket?”
“Yes we are and yes it is.”
“Okay…” Nash had questions but Nathanael was looking at him expectantly and he didn’t want to risk messing up the prospect of freedom and adventure so he said, “let’s, uh, let’s go.”
They walked together for a while, their wings lighting the small tunnel around them. At first Nash expected to be teleported back to his anchor. When he wasn’t he assumed it was because he was with Nathanael. They came to an intersection. The air current in the tunnel was coming from the right so they went to the right. Eventually they came to another intersection and they went to the left, into the moving air. They did this several more times when Nathanael asked, “Are they doing well?”
“John and Dingo Boy? Yep, they’re doing great. John’s stats are improving, some of the important ones even. Dingo Boy figured out how to make a green aura around good guys and a red aura around bad ones. Well, it was really John’s idea, but Dingo Boy is doing all the work.”
“That is unexpected. The dog’s spiritual connection is unlike any other I have experienced. Apparently he gleams more through it than is normal.”
“Spiritual connection? It’s not a mental connection?” asked Nash.
“The mind is the manifestation of activity in the brain. We don’t have brains but we use connections to communicate with each other and with the Purgated. We are connecting on a spirit level, not a mind level. The Purgated have weak spiritual connections that allow them to understand and speak the languages used by other souls. Saints have full control of their spiritual connections allowing them to communicate without spoken words like we are doing now.”
“John can talk in my head… er… through his spiritual connection.”
“Through your spiritual connection,” Nathanael corrected. “Your role creates a persistent connection between you and John on a spiritual level.”
“What about Dingo Boy?”
“You do not have a persistent connection with him nor should he be able to create one between himself and the Living strong enough to send words or images.”
“Is it bad that he can make strong connections?”
“I do not know,” The Virtue said, “be watchful and report if you see anything concerning. Ah, we are blocked.”
Nash hadn’t noticed when they’d entered the large chamber that was a nexus of hundreds of stone tunnels like the one they were walking through. The far end of the chamber was a wide opening. They stood before a mass of rock, roots, earth, and debris. In places the night sky could be glimpsed through it. Air was being pushed through the clog making a soft whistling sound. Nash started pulling at the debris trying to break down the clog. Nathanael laid a hand on it and liquid white light poured over it then, like the revolver earlier, it was just gone. They were facing a rocky slope with a strong wind filling their wings and blowing back their dark locks.
“This is very impressive,” said Nathanael, “this chamber filters the downslope winds from these foothills into those tunnels for ventilation. A rockslide obstructed it but now the air flows free once more. Thank you for the adventure Little Virtue.” Liquid light poured over his form and he vanished.
Nash expected to be teleported back to his anchor when Nathanael left but he wasn’t. Why not? He remembered the golden seed and how it made him feel. The Virtue had said it was a gift he’d requested, a gift for Nash from the Almighty. He had a lot of range from his anchor now! With a sigh of happiness he turned to the mass of stone tunnels behind him and realized he had no idea how to find his way back. “Great! How do I get back to John and everyone else?!?” he asked aloud. An arch of bright white light swirled into existence. He hesitated for a moment then stepped through it and found himself standing next to the chair with John’s jacket draped over it.
Robin volunteered for the first watch guarding the entrance to Kiningdom Burruh. One of the mighty carved doors was open. It had a relief of a majestic stag standing in the forest on it and it was the one John had opened when he escaped the Underground Kingdom. The foul smell coming from beyond it had intensified dramatically a few hours into the Guardsman’s watch. Without thinking about what he was doing he pushed the open door shut and put his back to it. The fit of the two doors was perfect, closing the open one cut off the odor completely. His watch was much more pleasant after that.
A little over an hour after Robin closed the door Turin woke and stumbled a little way into the underbrush to make water. Afterward he walked over to Robin and said, “Ayuh, probably should’ve closed thet dooh when our folk passed through it. Them goblins wouldn’t’ve got by us so easy.
“Mayhaps not,” Robin said, “Ya relievin’ me?”
“Jest got up to relieve myself,” Turnin chuckled at his own joke then said, “Might as well anyhow, ‘bout that time. Seen anythin’ comin’ or goin’?”
Robin peered into the forest in the direction the group of goblins had run. “Not a sign. Figuhe they’re long gone an’ ain’t comin’ back.”
“Ayuh. Figuhe Jeffery’ll have us on theih trail at fihrst light anyhow,” grumbled Turin.
Robin added some wood to the dying fire and unrolled his bedroll. He laid it out in the spot he’d claimed earlier. He removed all of his armor except for the leather pants and laid down. The night was warm enough that he chose to use all of his bedroll for padding instead of getting under the blanket. He looked up at the stars and, counting them, drifted off to sleep.
For a long while Turin stood with his back to the door. When his legs started to get sore he sat on the ground leaning up against it. He looked up at the stars and wondered at the massive number of them. He realized the dirt under him was very sandy. He stood and looked around. Behind him was a bush of blazing flame.
A deep voice older than time and stronger than iron said, “Trust in Gorry, His ways, and His gifts. Use the Ways of Gorry in your choices. Treat others as you want to be treated. Serve others and have joy in that service. Have courage of body, mind, and spirit. Take only what you need and give in abundance. Love Gorry, His ways, and others for you will find Him in them. Live as you will in Paradise Everlasting. Have hope in your heart for through these ways you will reach Gorry and Paradise Everlasting.”
Turin sat up with a start. He was laid out in front of the door. The first rays of sunlight were streaming through the trees. Quickly he gained his feet and started brushing dirt and small debris from his armor. After he’d gotten himself straightened out and dusted off he went to the firepit and added twigs and small sticks to the embers. He blew life into the coals and the kindling caught fire. Then he added some wood and returned to his place in front of the doors. The whole while Tianna’s words from the day before came to him over and over again. ‘Some say ya have the dream more often if ya stray from His path’ she’d said.
The fire was cracking and popping when Jeffery stirred. He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and slapped at his cheeks, then stood up. He wandered off to find a spot in the underbrush far from camp to see to the necessary. When he returned he noted the closed door and nodded his approval. When Rutger and Robin woke they found Turin and Jeffery having a breakfast of hardtack, cheese, and dried sausage. A kettle of tea was coming to a boil over some coals on the periphery of the campfire.
“Awright Tannyah. I added cheese t’ this one jest like ya said.”
Owen sat a plate with a flat half circle of egg on it in front of the Barmaid. She used her fork to cut off a bite, put it in her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. There was roasted garlic, tomato, sausage, cheese, fresh basil, and egg in the bite and it was wonderful. “I figuhe this heah is the winneh,” she said. “Mayhaps jest a little cheese on top with a basil leaf on top of thet.”
“Not enough cheese an’ basil inside?” the Innkeeper asked with a furrowed brow.
“Plenty inside,” she said.
“Why put more on top?”
She put a basil leaf on top of the new dish and presented it with opened hands, palms upward. He looked at it and rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Imagine a little cheese melted undeh it,” said Tannyah.
Owen removed the basil leaf, placed a slice of tomato in its place, then put the basil leaf on the tomato. He presented it with opened hands, palms upward, just as his daughter had.
“I figuhe thet theah is very nice,” the Barmaid said, “Owen’s Stuffed Eggs gonna be the name of this one?”
“Jacobs’ Stuffed Eggs seems t’ be a good name t’ me,” he said, smiling at her. She returned the smile, happy that he’d chosen their family name over his first name for the dish.
They started cooking together. Owen made the egg mixture and prepped the ingredients for the filling except for the garlic which Tannyah roasted. While her father ladled egg mixture into a greased and preheated frying pan she sliced tomatoes and chose the best looking leaves of basil for the garlish.
When she picked up the first plate to take it out to the common room he said, “Been hahd with ya mother off t’ thet place. Cookin’ with ya has made it a little betteh.”
She gave him a little hug and loaded plates onto her tray. She headed out to the tables with a smile on her face and a slight ache in her heart. Cooking with her father had made things a little better. When her mother and her husband-to-be returned she would make sure they kept up the new routine.
The remnants of a pleasant dream clung to the Marksman and he clung to them but he couldn’t will himself to sleep forever. Sunlight and fresh air filled the smithy when John opened his eyes. The room’s transformation was so severe that he experienced a moment of dissociation. He sat up and found that he was the last one waking.
“Mornin’ theah John,” said Sebastian. “Real different in heah ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” John rubbed his face, “yeah, it’s very different. I get the sunlight. Nash must have cleaned the skylights in here. But… Is that fresh air?”
“Yep!” said the Little Virtue as he walked into the room from the armory. “I saw a hole in the wall in the other room with a little air coming out of it. I got small and climbed inside and found a tunnel and we followed it really, really, really far. Then we found a room with a bunch of tunnels and a clog. Once the clog was gone the air started flowing through all of those tunnels. It comes in the other room with the armor and weapons and goes out through the chimney in here.” He pointed at the forge’s hood. “Oh! If you gotta… do human stuff… I found a room for that across the corridor.”
John blinked trying to come up to speed. They’d found a few communal bathrooms as they were exploring yesterday. Most of them were so disgusting they were not usable. They’d found one that was improbably clean and everyone had taken turns relieving themselves there. John stood and stretched and decided to check out Nash’s find. Dingo Boy trotted to the Marksman for morning pets and scratches. After the ritual greeting was over the Marksman and the Cattle Dog followed Nash to the bathroom. It was primitive but clean. There was a row of low walls that created stalls. Each stall had a hole in the floor with handholds to each side, shallow cuts in the wall. Dingo Boy used one of the holes with impressive accuracy after watching John use one.
“Who’s we?” the Marksman asked the Little Virtue as they crossed the wide hallway. John counted all eight green auras between the armory and the smithy so he put the chair back in place to block the door from opening. Nash hadn’t provided an answer so he said, “You said we when you were telling me about following the vents, the tunnels, last night.”
“Nathanael and I,” The Little Virtue said offhandedly.
“Nathanael!?! Nathanael was here, in this world!?!”
“Yeah, just like when he visited and got the snackies for Dingo Boy.” The Cattle Dog shook the shiny silver bag out of his pouch and nosed at it meaningfully. Nash gave him a snackie and returned the bag to his pouch.
“What was that theah?” asked Raif with interest.
“It was a bag of snackies. Dingo Boy likes them a lot,” Nash said and the Heeler gave a bark of agreement.
“A metal bag?” the guard asked.
“I think so.” Nash said with a thoughtful expression.
“Figuhe food ain’t a bad idea, breakfast wouldn’t go amiss,” Griffon said to John.
“Yeah,” the Marksman said, resolving to ask Nash more about Nathanael and his visits later. He walked into the armory and started pulling loaves of bread, cheese, and dried sausage from his pockets.
“Need t’ fill our watehskins,” Tianna said and Dingo Boy obligingly shook his mystical bowl from his pouch. She bent down and retrieved it from the floor as it filled and set it on the table. “This heah’s clean afteh he drinks outta it all day?”
“Yep,” said Nash, “It’s always clean. It’s part of the blessing it has.”
“By Gorry I wish the dishes at the inn had thet blessin’!” she chuckled, picked up the full bowl of water, and filled a waterskin with it. The stream of water that poured from the bowl was surprisingly uniform making the task very easy. Once she’d filled all the waterskins she put the bowl on the ground so the Cattle Dog could have a drink. She sat at a table with Griffon and Raif and began to eat.
“Sure is betteh in heah,” said Timmon and Gregory nodded while chewing a hunk of bread.
“Thanks!” Nash said with a grin.
“Smells like the forest. Ya think this breeze is gonna make thet place back theah,” Sebastian pointed toward the secret tunnel and the horror beyond it, “smell betteh?”
“Ain’t gonna smell good but it ain’t gonna be as horrible neitheh,” said Gregory after swallowing.
“Ain’t gonna be as horrible eitheh Greg,” Corrected Timmon.
“I don’t figuhe so neither Tim,” Gregory said with a nod.
Griffon finished eating and walked into the armory. After a few moments he returned wearing one of the suits of scalemail armor. The breastplate, backplate, armguards and shinguards had the overlapping bits of metal attached directly to them. There were also pieces of scalemailed leather that strapped over his thighs.
Raif looked up with interest, “How’s thet feel? Heavy?”
Griffon stretched, twisted, jumped, and jogged in place a little. The armor was made with such cunning that not a rattle or clank was heard from his athleticisms. “Not as heavy as I figuhed it’d be. Theah’s this as well.” He walked back into the armory and returned wearing a leather helm with scalemail that protected the back and sides of his head. It bore metal ornamentation that made it look like an eagle’s head complete with a beak shaped faceguard.
Tianna whistled low and Dingo Boy barked. She headed into the armory and said, “Ya boys stay back in theah.” They could hear her armor hitting the ground and the occasional grunt and one or two profanities. Eventually she returned wearing one of the sets fitted for a woman. The leather and scalemail helm on her head was in the style of an owl. The beak-like faceguard hung loose on one side. Her red curls escaped the helm at the bottom adding a splash of color. Her smile was proud and her green eyes were gleaming. She secured the loose side of the faceguard and moved her head around to verify it wouldn’t shift or flop. The fit was perfect.
Raif headed toward the armory, as he passed their table he laid an inviting hand on Sebastian, Timmon, and Gregory’s shoulders. They all followed him, the Tracker less enthusiastically than the Hunter and the Packer. When they returned they were all wearing the Kiningdom Burruh armor. It fit Gregory and Timmon better than the Knollburah town guard armor had. Raif’s helm had embellishment’s that gave it a lupine aspect. Timmon wore a helm that transformed him into a bear. Gregory’s helm was canine with the broad muzzle of a mastiff. Sebastian wore a helm in the aspect of a regal stag with a rack on antlers the width of his shoulders. It was swept back and impressive without being impractical.
“Like a child with a new gift, I’d swear I can see betteh in this,” Griffon said, touching the sides of his helm.
“I’m sure you can,” Nash said, “every one of those helmets is a blessed item. I can see it.”
“Ya mean I’m actually strongeh with this heah thin’ on my head?” asked Timmon.
“Maybe. I can’t tell what they do just by looking,” the Angelic Shard walked over to Timmon and touched the helm on his head. “Yep, this makes you stronger.” He walked to Griffon and touched his and said, “This actually increases your perception but we’ll call it seeing better.” Next he touched Raif and said, “Yours gives you more endurance.”
“So I can run fartheh?”
“Exactly.” He moved on to Tianna and said, “This gives you more wisdom.”
“How’s thet wohk?” she asked then immediately answered her own question, “These are all blessed by Gorry. The blacksmith thet made them must’ve been on his last life before goin’ t’ Paradise Everlastin’”
Next Nash went to Gregory and touched his helm, “Yours gives you more insight.” The Tracker’s brow furrowed and Nash said, “it’ll help you understand more from tracks and other animal signs.” The line between his brows eased and his eyes smiled.
Finally he touched the tip of one of Sebastian’s antlers and said, “This will give you more agility so you’ll be able to move with more grace, speed, and balance.”
Just as Tianna had left her old bow behind those who donned new armor in Kiningdom Burruh left their old armor behind. John loaded the rest of the armor from the dummies into Dingo Boy’s pouches. He also stowed the bucklers, swords, knives, hatchets, and quivers full of arrows, two of which were held back for Sebastian and Tianna. Finally the bows went into the pouches on the Heeler’s harness. As John was finishing up Raif and Griffon came out of the armory with two large bags.
“Guessin’ this heah was f’ doin’ the inlay wohk on them weapons,” Raif said, holding open a bag for John to see the contents. Inside there was a plethora of spools of gold wire in various gauges. “Thet one theah has silveh,” he pointed to the bag Griffon held.
The two bags of precious wire went into the Heeler’s pouches as well. The Kiningdom Burruh Party gave the two rooms one final search. There were plenty of useful tools in the smithy but they all agreed they should limit their spoils to arms and armor and treasure. John removed the chair on the armory door and led them into the corridor filled with sunlight. They put their backs to the cave-in and headed into the darkness as John pulled out Shirak and changed the holy light to torch mode.
“Ready theah Turin?” Jeffery asked. He expected a snide comment, some snark at least but instead the older Guardsman just stood and shouldered his waterskin.
“Figuhed we could keep an eye out f’ ripe berries while we’re out theah,” he said and he handed Jeffery a foraging bag before he headed for the underbrush where the group of goblins had fled into the forest.
Rutger, standing guard at the doors of Kiningdom Burruh, gave Jeffery a slight shrug as he passed by following Turin. Robin, sitting at the campfire, said, “Berries sounds like a good idea. Saw some by the stream yesterday. Got t’ get more wateh anyhow, might see about pickin’ some.”
“Awright, good huntin to ya,” said Rutger and Robin gathered the kettle and a foraging bag of his own then headed off down the trail toward the stream.
The goblins’ trail was easy to follow. Either they completely lacked woodscraft or they didn’t expect to be followed. Jeffery and Turin tracked them north a little ways then up the hillside to the west. The going wasn’t too bad but the goblins were short and the men spent a lot of time ducking under branches. Twice they had to navigate around thickets of thorns the goblins had trampled through with their thorn-proof skin. Finally the creatures’ trail met with a gametrail that went northwest then west continuing into the rocky foothills of the mountains.
All the while Jeffery wondered why Turin was so introspective. Usually a duty like this one would have been filled with his grumbling, complaining, and general bitterness. Concern for the man led the younger Guardsman to ask, “Awright theah Turin?”
Turin didn’t give a reply right away. They walked together for several minutes before he answered with a question. “Figuhe it’s true that we get the dream when we’re wanderin’ off course?”
“True enough mayhaps. Might get it when we are forgetting one or more of the Ways as well.”
They walked in silence, tracking the goblins until the ground became too rocky to follow them any further. As they turned back toward their camp Turin asked, “Figuhe I’m a bad man Jeffery?”
“Not a bad man, no, jest a rough man. Plenty of great thin’s start out rough but with some work somethin’ great is wrought. Saw a few places to gather berries on the way back. Still want t’ do thet?”
Kiningdom Burruh on the entrance side of the collapsed corridor was full of foul smells, hobgoblins, corpses, rats, some stolen goods, and little else. The armory side of the collapsed corridor was, aside from some minor damage, a snapshot of a people long gone. The party began to explore instead of hunt. They found apartments of various sizes that told tales of a complex society. There were no remains to be found, the rats ate them long ago. Some furniture was damaged from their passage or the passage of the giant snakes. As often as not they found the living spaces untouched, left as if their inhabitants had stepped out and would return soon.
Timmon noticed the pack of red auras first. The adventurers were approaching an arterial turn. The great rats were coming from the left. Nash vanished into his anchor. John took his position at the front and he was flanked by the archers. Dingo Boy took a position tight on the Marksman’s left. Raif and Griffon took the middle positions behind the four and far enough back to safely swing their swords. Timmon and Gregory stayed in the back waiting to serve as protection for the archers when they retreated. Everyone put the plugs in their ears.
The first eight of the massive rodents fell to gunfire and arrows as they came into sight. They tumbled straight through the intersection as thunderous echoes filled the corridors. The remaining dozen rats came at them. Sebastian and Tianna moved back as John’s firearm, cylinder glowing faintly on the next round, boomed. The crash echoed in the wide hallways as a rat fell and the rest of the pack raced over it. Dingo Boy leapt onto the back of a passing rodent tearing and snarling. Its red aura winked out.
“No!” exclaimed Raif as he beheaded a rat with his angelically sharpened sword. His downward swing was far too hard and the tip of his swordblade broke off when it struck the stone floor. He continued to fight with the damaged weapon.
Griffon stabbed a giant rat in the head and quickly slashed another one. A rat fell with one of Tianna’s arrows between its shoulders and the one behind it leapt at her. Timmon grabbed it out of the air and smashed it into the ground then stomped on its head. Another of the huge rodents ran for the Packer and Gregory stabbed it in the side. Sebastian shot one in the neck and, with a crash of thunder, John killed one of the last remaining great rats. The swordsmen took the last two down.
After the skirmish Griffon and Raif killed a few struggling rats that still had faint red auras. John pulled the knife the little goblin Cook had given him from his pocket. He walked around the corner and used it to extinguish the last remaining aura held by one of the eight rats he and the archers had shot at the start of things. Nash materialized next to him.
“Can you make this clean enough to use for cooking?” John asked the Little Virtue holding out the knife.
Nash took it and said, “Sure!” The blood on the blade became dust that drifted off. He held the knife for a moment longer then passed it back to the Marksman, holding it by the blade. “It’s cleaner than it was before you killed the rat. Be really careful with it. I sharpened it.”
The rest of the party joined them. Raif was still holding his broken sword in one hand and the dismembered tip in the other. “Can ya fix this heah?” he asked Nash.
“Maybe… it’d take some time though. Filling in chips or notches or sharpening a blade doesn’t take much. Joining those two parts together and making them strong enough for fighting though…” he shrugged.
“Ah Raif, why not jest use one of them we got from the armory? Ya didn’t even name that sword of yars,” Griffon said.
Dingo Boy barked and obligingly shook a new sword from his pouch. It clattered to the stone floor and Raif winced. He picked it up and examined it in the light of Shirak. It hadn’t taken any damage from the dog’s accidental abuse. “Mind sharpening this one?” he asked Nash.
“Okay! In fact, everyone with a blade I haven’t sharpened, make a line!” They did, even the archers had their new arrows sharpened. The Little Virtue was visibly happy to be of service to his party. He would reach out and touch the blade to be worked with a smile and when the job was done he’d say, “be careful with that, it’s really sharp!” each and every time.
Gregory was last and as he waited he peered over Nash’s shoulder. “What’s thet?” he asked. Up ahead the wide hallway ended in a door dimly lit by the holy light.
“Be careful with that, it’s really sharp!”
“Thank ya Celesti… Nash, thank ya Nash,” said the Tracker, patting the muscular form of the Little Virtue on the shoulder. He walked toward the door and the others followed. Shirak’s light revealed that it was heavily reinforced. There were three intimidating locks set below the handle. “What do ya figuhe is in theah?” Gregory asked.
“I don’t know,” said John, “but we’re going to find out.”