The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 200
“What’s a City Runner doing out so far from any of the cities?”
The Captain eyes me suspiciously, but here at least I can lie with conviction. Oh so much conviction.
“Got a delivery for a tribe around here. Gnolls. The Stone Spears. I’m looking for their Chieftain, Urksh.”
“We’ve met them. You’re several days off.”
I shrug.
“Got chased by a Wyvern. If you point me in the right direction, I’ll go.”
It’s a good story. I keep telling myself that, and I hope I can still do fake honesty as well as I used to. The Drake is nodding as if she’s buying my story, and I’ve got the advantage that if she does bring me to Urksh, he’d probably cover for me.
I think she’s about to let me go when she nods at the soldiers.
“You may be telling the truth, but without someone with lie-detecting Skills I can’t confirm that. Regardless though, you’re going to have to come with us.”
Shit. My heart races.
“Where to?”
“Wall Lord Ilvriss will want to see you. You won’t be harmed so long as you don’t resist. Take her.”
She nods, and two soldiers come to flank me. They don’t seize me, but they point and I go. Don’t fight soldiers.
God, I’ve make a big mistake. Or maybe not. Maybe this Wall Lord is a reasonable guy. I’m sure he is. I’m sure he’ll send me on my way with an apology and a shake of the hand…claw.
I’m so fucked.
I can hear the female Drake shouting orders, recalling the soldiers, as they form up and move and and behind me. No chance I’ll be left with my two charming, smiling companions. I eye the blood on their weapons until one of them snarls at me and I look ahead.
I descend the hill and follow the small column of soldiers as it winds its way back towards the battlefield. As I walk, I try to figure things out. Is this army here to fight the Necromancer? People think he’s dead, and besides the Drake was mentioning some kind of alliance.
A war, then? I doubt anyone’s allying with the infamous Az’kerash, and I didn’t see any undead on that battlefield. Dead, yes, but they all bled quite a lot before they died.
Am I in danger because of the war? I mean, what does a [Necromancer] like more than dead bodies? Shit. I was going to plan how to meet the guy before I went to knock on his front door, but if this army gets attacked—
I stumble, and a soldier catches me and pushes me along. Nice to see they’re so interested in my well-being. What do I do? What can I do? The potions—
I see a glimmer of light out of the corner of my eye as I’m pushed along, and I see a faerie floating by, as conspicuous as can be. But the soldiers probably only see a fuzzy blur, and so she flies closer to me as I walk along. I stare not-quite at her, and she waves a hand.
Are they…going to help? She points to the soldiers, and heart beats faster. If she freezes their weapons or hits them with something I can probably do the rest.
The faerie taps one of the soldier’s swords, making it frost over for a second and then points at me. She draws a line across her neck, waves, and flies away. I stare forwards and bite my tongue so hard it nearly bleeds.
I hate those bastards.
—-
His name was Zel, although few called him by that name anymore. It was a sign of respect, but it made him lonely at times. To others, he was Shivertail, or the legendary General of the Line, the famous Tidebreaker.
Some days he wished they didn’t believe in him so much. Because one day he would lose a battle, and his life.
It might be today.
The [General] stood over his maps, staring at a rough drawing of the terrain and landscape. Their army hadn’t been here long, and this was a forsaken part of the continent that not even Gnoll Tribes visited that often. He grimly marked a spot on the map and tapped it.
“We missed the battle. Ilvriss just got the entire group from Verdam and lost barely more than a handful of his own.”
The officers and adjutants standing around the war table muttered at this news. Zel felt the same, although his face didn’t show it.
“They got cut to ribbons. That was the last group not scattered to the winds, which means we’re on our own now. So. Let’s recap.”
Zel walked around the table, looking at his highest-ranking officers. In the privacy of his head, Zel Shivertail winced. They weren’t much. These were all low-level [Tacticians] and [Lieutenants] and even a few [Leaders] the allied cites had sent, now the high-ranking [Strategists] and [Captains] in Ilvriss’s army. No wonder the Verdam soldiers had been destroyed so quickly.
He wished he’d been at that battle, to even the odds. If he’d been there with his army, it would have been a fair fight—more than one. His abilities would have been a counter for Ilvriss, but that was war, wasn’t it? Fairness was a dream.
Zel cleared his throat, and everyone in the room snapped to attention, although they’d hardly been slouching before. They were brave, and loyal, and they were fighting to protect their homes. He couldn’t fault them for that, but the battle rested heavier on his shoulders because of it.
“Ilvriss caught us off guard when we were mustering our forces. If we’d gotten our army together we would have been fine, but none our [Scouts] caught him and our [Strategists] didn’t think a Lord of the Wall would come out of one of the Walled Cities. Well, recriminations aside, he did and he’s here. And he’s just taken away our last chance at evening the odds. They outnumber us two-to-one, and we lost several good officers in that ambush.”
No one spoke, although Zel heard a muffled groan. He agreed, privately, but the soldiers had faith in him, despite the difference in levels, equipment, and soldiers between them and Ilvriss. He was a [General], and his abilities could turn the tide of this battle. But if he fell or couldn’t use them—
“Wall Lord Ilvriss’s forces don’t have to move; they know they’re guarding the only viable pass. Either we try to get out somewhere else and they fall on our backs, or we assault them head-on and try to rout them.”
Neither option was a good one. Zel saw it on the faces of those around him.
“An offensive battle isn’t one Ilvriss expects us to take. He’s hoping we’ll try to sneak around us and catch us up against a cliff or in a tight spot so he can hammer us flat. It might work.”
Skills only did so much. They couldn’t produce miracles. Zel paused as he pointed to the battlefield, and the place where Ilvriss’s army was camped.
“That’s what he expects. That’s what would suit my abilities. So that’s what we’re not going to do. We’re advancing on his camp and attacking. Not tomorrow, not in an hour; right now. His soldiers are still healing and he’s probably assuming we’re still trying to gather those who have fled. No. We move out in ten minutes; leave the camp and have everyone ready.”
Zel fit action to word as he stroke out of the tent. All or nothing. The cold air was harsh on his scales. Was today the day he died? He hoped it wasn’t. But if it was, he’d go down with a claw on Ilvriss’s damned throat.
He probably wouldn’t die. A captive was just what the leaders of the Walled City, Quillst wanted. High-level officers and [Generals] were too valuable to lose in a small war like this.
The Drake growled under his breath as he stomped through the snow. He clenched his hands as he growled.
“What a burning stupid reason for a war.”
Good soldiers were going to die for politics. He hated that. But as his soldiers rallied and he prepared to launch an attack on Ilvriss, Zel had one consolation:
At least he’d get to see the surprise on that arrogant lizard’s face when he attacked.
—-
I really want to wipe the smug look off of that bastard’s face.
I’m standing in a tent, facing Lord of the Wall Ilvriss, the [Lord] in charge of the army that just slaughtered all those soldiers not an hour ago. Unlike his soldiers, he’s not in muck, snow, and blood. Rather, he’s pristine red-and-gold armor in a luxurious, warm tent in the center of the camp that was going up as we speak.
And he’s arrogant. Exceedingly so. I can see it in the way he lifts his chin, the way he moves and looks at everyone around him as if they’re less important, and especially the way he talks.
He reminds me of some of my dad’s buddies, the politicians and bigwigs who you really want to smack a few times, or at the very least throw dog crap at*.
*Oddly specific? I did it once. Hilarity ensued.
And he’s about as trusting as a snake, and paranoid to boot.
“I told you, I’m a Runner. I’m not part of your little war.”
That earns me a glare from one of the Drakes in the room, the one who captured me. Her name is Periss, and she’s a [Commander] who seems to worship the ground Ilvriss stands on. I think she’s his second-in-command, but honestly, I don’t care.
I’d rather just run away from here and forget all these people, their names and titles. But that’s not an option, apparently.
“So you are. But a Runner is still a threat, especially if you are delivering messages or items to the enemy.”
Ilvriss stares hard at me and I stare right back. At first, I tried to be polite and humble, but when it became clear there’s a rule about killing Runners and after I got to know him* I sort of lost the humility bit.
*It took five seconds. ‘What is a Human doing in my tent?’ Pretty much sums it all up, or maybe it was the tone he said it in.
“I told you, I’m not delivering anything to this Zef or Zwell or whatever his name is. You can get someone to prove I’m telling the truth.”
Ilvriss stares hard at me, but I’m not going to blink. To his credit, neither does he, and he looks away, too important to get into a staring contest with a Human. He sniffs and his tail twitches slightly at me.
“A [Lord] can detect falsehoods as well as any other class, Human. I know you are speaking the truth, but it does not change the fact that you are here.”
“What could I do that’s so dangerous?”
“You could send word of Zel’s…predicament, or perhaps he would contract you to deliver something yourself. It matters not. You are a random element, and I will not have you disturb my battle.”
He’s almost sensible. Although, I wouldn’t ever accept a request to dodge an enemy army—well, I probably wouldn’t. I bite my tongue and try to come up with a response.
“I’m a City Runner, not a citizen of your Walled Cities. You don’t have any right to detain me.”
He raises his non-existent eyebrows and I hear Periss chuckle softly.
“Ineed? And who will enforce your ‘rights’, Human? An army from one of your precious cities? If they can make it past Liscor, I would be much impressed. But until then, I am a [Lord] and this is my army who provide all the right I need.”
Well, I hate to say it, but he’s right. You can’t exactly say ‘you and what army?’ to this guy, and he’s not about to budge on his position. I can see it in his eyes.
Ilvriss turns and studies a map in his tent. I stare at it covertly, trying to spot any landmarks, like say, a castle made of bones or something helpful to locate that Necromancer.
“Zel may have been injured in this skirmish, but his main force is still out there. Until we find and crush them, you will stay in our camp.”
I grind my teeth.
“Fine. Great. Wonderful. I’m honored.”
“You will not be treated unfairly, unless of course you attempt to escape. I honor all the tenants of war. But you must first relinquish any magical items on your person.”
One of his aides comes towards me, reaching for my belt. Shit. I step back, and Periss reaches for her sword.
“Don’t resist, Human.”
“I’m not resisting.”
Yet. I wonder if I could get out of this tent? The last thing I want to do is sit in a camp while I’m tied up and an enemy army is about to attack. I try to look around as I speak.
“Don’t touch my belt. I’m carrying a magical item that will attack anyone who’s not me or the recipient.”
They brought me into the center of this camp, but the soldiers are healing and they’re guarding the perimeter, not me at the moment. Only Periss is really watching me, and if I could cause a distraction, my potions might help me get away.
The aide hesitates, and Ilvriss looks over.
“What are you carrying that is so important?”
“Stuff. It’s confidential; I can’t speak of it.”
“If it is a weapon, we may seize it for use during our campaign.”
“I don’t know what it is, but if you want to touch it, do it a few miles away from me, will you?”
Periss glares at me, but now I’ve got Ilvriss interested enough to come over. He points at me.
“Show me what you are carrying.”
Slowly, I reach into my belt and sense the Drake behind me reach for her sword. But I’m not about to use the ring as a weapon. Rather, I’m taking the time to remember where all of Octavia’s potions are. Some in my belt, some in my pack. Well, damn. But I know one of them is small enough that I put it in a pouch…
I take out the ring and letter and show it to Ilvriss. Wisely, he doesn’t get any closer, but he studies both.
“Berlyrssat.”
One of the Drakes hurries forwards. He’s not a soldier either; probably a servant of some kind. He’s holding a stone, a clear bit of quartz or something. He waves it over the stone, and it turns deep violet, almost black.
Berlys-whatever takes a step back and gulps as he looks at Ilvriss.
“My Lord. This is a potent magical artifact. The magic on it is Tier 5 or higher.”
That makes the Wall Lord look at me. He narrows his eyes, and Periss’s sword is so close to my back that I can practically feel it tickling my spine. Don’t move. But I know exactly where Octavia’s potion is, now. If she’d just move away—
“What are you carrying? No, do not answer. You have your rules. Intriguing. This may be a weapon, but if it is it is lost to us.” He looks over at Periss, and the Drake nods reluctantly.
“We don’t have time to dispel the magic, if we even could.”
Ilvriss nods once, and then turns back to me, now suddenly and unfortunately focused one me.
“Well then, what else are you carrying?”
“Potions. Defensive equipment. Not stuff I want stolen.”
“We will recompense you for your items. Show me.”
Great, now he’s curious. I sigh, and reach into a pouch slowly.
“Stop. Berlyssat will take your items, unless any of them are trapped?”
“No. But be careful.”
The Drake aide takes my belt, and begins opening pouches. My pack is sitting on the table, and pretty soon he has most of the items out. Ilvriss ignores my normal gear and stares hard at the potions, especially the one Teriarch gave me.
“Quite an odd collection for a mere City Runner.”
“It’s a dangerous world. Sue me.”
Poke. Unlike Mrsha’s claws, the sword actually goes into my skin a bit and draws blood. I glare at Periss and she gives me a death-look in return.
Ilvriss ignores us lesser beings and studies the glowing potion. Then he frowns as he stares at a clear liquid in another potion.
“What’s this? It’s not like any potion I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t open it.”
“Is it deadly?”
The Drake eyes the bottle, and I shake my head.
“It’s not. It just smells bad.”
He looks over at me and sniffs.
“Smells bad? What kind of a potion does that?”
“Hey, I don’t judge your armor.”
Poke. I grit me teeth. Aagh! That hurt! I project as much sincerity into my voice as possible.
“Just don’t open it, alright? It smells bad. You’ll regret it. Don’t be stupid.”
This time Periss growls, but Ilvriss just raises an eyebrow. Yep, he’s like all those arrogant idiots. Tell him not to do something and he wants to try it just to show he can.
“Smell is hardly one of the things I fear. Any scent can be easily erased by magic.”
His claw reaches for the cork stopper. Periss raises her voice.
“My lord, is that such a good idea? Please allow me.”
“It is not deadly. The Human has said so and I have read the truth of it in her words. Let us see what she fears so much.”
I hold my breath and hope like hell I don’t puke. Ilvriss struggles to uncork Octavia’s wedged-in stopper, but then it comes out and—
“Dead gods!”
Have you ever smelled—no, wait, that’s now how I should explain it. Have you ever been hit by a car? Because the smell that fills the tent is more like a physical blow than anything else. I’m ready for it, and I still double over and nearly retch. The others aren’t so lucky.
Ilvriss jerks as the smell hits him, and I see his face change. He grasps at his throat—to stop from vomiting?—and his other claw grabs at the bottle. Mistake. It falls to the ground and the stink-liquid pours out and the smell gets worse.
In front of me I see the aide topple over in a dead faint. I hear the sound of vomiting and turn to see Periss throwing up.
No time to hesitate. I spin, step forwards hard as my other leg comes up.
Periss is still holding her sword. I guess soldiers really do have good instincts. She sees me move and tries to raise her weapon, but too late. My shin smashes into her face and she crumbles to the ground.
Oh god. I’ve got vomit all over my pants. But no time to rejoice. I charge towards Ilvriss and the table.
He’s still gasping, trying not to puke. I snatch a potion off the table as he turns towards me. Shit. He’s got a sword too.
“You—”
I uncork the potion and throw it in his face. I bought several potions from Octavia, all of them based on things from my world. This one I know works, because she tested it on herself.
