Blood of Liscor: Book 8, page 71
part #8 of Wandering Inn Series
The Redfang Warriors dragged forwards the Cave Goblin’s chair, waking the little creature up. She’d actually fallen asleep. When she saw Ilvriss staring at her, she nearly wet herself again.
“Have it tell us all the information it has on the dungeon and the Raskghar.”
Ilvriss ordered Numbtongue. The Goblin looked irritable but relayed the questions to the Cave Goblin. The little Goblin didn’t need any persuasion. She began to gabble, and Numbtongue listened.
“Well, what’s it saying?”
Impatiently, Ilvriss looked at the Hob. Numbtongue grumbled. All the other Redfang Warriors looked at him. Headscratcher poked Numbtongue, and the Goblin growled irritably. At last, pressured by dozens of stares, he spoke.
“She says the Raskghar control her tribe. She is Cave Goblin. She says the Goblins serve the Raskghar. They were ordered to attack—big stone city in middle of water. Liscor. And the inn.”
Everyone stared. Numbtongue’s words were surprisingly normal. Shockingly normal. He was more fluent than any Goblin that Pisces had ever met. Numbtongue glared around and folded his arms. He continued.
“She says Raskghar are very…very…”
He searched for the word. Erin frowned.
“Hungry?”
Olesm scratched his neck.
“Angry?”
“Afraid?”
Numbtongue smirked at Embria. He shook his head and gave up.
“Very wanting. They want. They come up here for what they want. Other furry not-Raskghar.”
“Gnolls.”
Krshia growled. The other Gnolls rumbled, and the Cave Goblin shrank. Ilvriss held up a claw.
“They will not have them. Goblin.”
“Numbtongue.”
“Goblin. Where are the Raskghar located? How many of them live within the dungeon? What threats are there to be concerned of?”
Numbtongue looked away and refused to speak. Ilvriss stared at him. Erin coughed.
“Say his name.”
“What?”
“Say his name.”
Ilvriss looked like he was about ready to stab Numbtongue to death. He ground his teeth as the Drakes muttered, but eventually, he spoke two grating words.
“Numb. Tongue.”
Instantly, the Hob turned to the Cave Goblin and issued a series of questions. Ilvriss sat, smoldering, as the Cave Goblin gabbled back. This time, Numbtongue didn’t look so at ease. He looked around and shook his head.
“Well?”
“Raskghar have a lair deep within dungeon. She knows where, but there are many twists. Turns. And the lair is not always in the same place. The Raskghar are…ever moving. They change rooms.”
“Nomadic?”
Numbtongue nodded in relief.
“Nomadic. They have many spots. And they spread out. To avoid…bad things finding them.”
“Bad things? Like what?”
The adventurers all wanted to know. Numbtongue shook his head, troubled.
“Very bad things. Army of walking metal things. Big red worms that steal flesh. Headsnatcher. Invisible monsters.”
“Invisible monsters?”
Someone swore. Numbtongue nodded. He turned back to the Cave Goblin and asked one more question.
“There are…many Raskghar. Many.”
“How many is many?”
Numbtongue shrugged. He asked the Cave Goblin another question, but she clearly couldn’t answer. Numbtongue scratched his head and pointed around the giant common room. The Cave Goblin peered around, and Numbtongue lifted her chair up with Shorthilt. She craned her neck and then gabbled a reply. Numbtongue’s eyes widened, and he repeated the word. She nodded, and he put her down. He didn’t want to speak after that.
“Well? How many?”
Ilvriss stared at Numbtongue. The Hob looked around. He looked at the ceiling, the floor, at his fellow Goblins, and then at his audience.
“She says that if this big room is a sleeping hall, then the main Raskghar camp would be six times this large.”
He pointed around the common room, enhanced by Erin’s [Grand Theatre] Skill. Slowly, his audience looked around the huge room, towards the distant stage at the back. This time, Ilvriss was the one who swore. And as Lyonette quietly pointed out to Mrsha, it was a very bad word. But it was appropriate for very bad news.
——
“Okay, that’s a big room. But it still means that there’s only about a few thousand Raskghar.”
“In their main camp.”
“Well, how many camps do they have? And if there are so many, why don’t they all attack at once?”
“Because that would be suicide. No, they have the numbers to raid us rather than take a fight which they’d lose.”
“They’d only lose if they attacked us when they’re stupid. You show me a thousand of those things on a full moon and see who’s laughing.”
“If they’re in the dungeon, they’re fighting other monsters as well. They might not even be the dominant species within the dungeon.”
“Oh, wonderful. Now you’ve got me wondering if there’s something worse than Raskghar and Face-Eater moths!”
Ksmvr sat at a table with Ceria and Yvlon and listened to the people argue. He did not join the argument. He was unqualified. After all, if Captain Ceria didn’t speak and Revalantor Klbkch only spoke a few times, what qualifications did he, a disgraced Prognugator exiled from his Hive, have? No. He listened to every word spoken, watching the anxious people debate and talk in circles.
They were afraid. It was a novel concept to Ksmvr. Not fear. He had been afraid when he had failed his Hive. He had been afraid every day since, of being unworthy, of losing his place with the Horns of Hammerad. But it was strange for Ksmvr to see so many others being afraid. Drakes, Gnolls, Humans—why were they afraid?
Ksmvr wanted to speak. He wanted to stand up and ask them why they feared the Raskghar. Yes, the monster attacks were unrelenting. Yes, Liscor had suffered. People had died and there was crisis yet again. But if he could speak he would ask them: ‘so what?’
So what? In Ksmvr’s head, he stood and spoke, silencing the loud Drakes turning to Ilvriss and Zevara in fear. Why are you afraid of monsters? Yes, they are terrible. Yes they come again. And yes, this dungeon is a foe worthy of your city. But so what? You are equal to the challenge.
Did not Liscor defeat Skinner and the undead? Didn’t they vanquish a horde of Face-Eater Moths? Hadn’t they endured the worst the dungeon had to offer? And in those moments of despair, did they flee? No. Drakes and Gnolls fought. Antinium fought. That was Liscor’s strength.
Liscor had survived war. It had survived centuries of battle. It had fought off the Necromancer before Ksmvr had even been created. It had beaten back his people. The Black Tide had assailed Liscor and failed to take the city! Liscor had even survived the…water. How could they be afraid of monsters after all that?
Yes, the mood was dark. Yes, Liscor was in danger. But the monsters would be driven back. The dungeon was not an infinite beast of endless passageways. It had an end. It had a limit. The adventurers would enter the dungeon, claim its treasures, lay waste to the traps and monsters within. And when that day came, Liscor would know peace. They would emerge stronger for their trials. Someday, the rain would stop. Someday, Liscor would emerge proud and triumphant. So what if the night was dark and the rain fell?
So what?
That was what Ksmvr thought in his head. Of course, he did not say any of this out loud. He was well aware that he lacked the social understanding of his team. Captain Ceria was always telling him that. If he spoke now, he would only embarrass his team. So Ksmvr kept silent. Better to let the people speak who knew what they were doing.
It seemed like there was a lot of shouting going on. Ksmvr saw the organized council meeting dissolve into panic. He stared at one of Liscor’s Council as they dropped to the floor in a panic attack and another who screamed at Klbkch. He waited for someone to say the right words. No one did.
Maybe they didn’t know what they were doing. The thought terrified Ksmvr. But all the panicked people in the room seemed uncertain, even the adventurers. Even his Captain. His resolve not to do anything wavered. Ksmvr looked around as people panicked and said the same words over and over again. Slowly, he pushed back his chair. Someone had to say it. He rose to his feet and opened his mandibles to speak.
“So—”
The door to Pallass opened. Ksmvr instantly sat back down. Thank goodness. He’d been about to humiliate himself. He saw Watch Captain Venim re-enter the room. Relieved, Ilvriss turned from trying to shout everyone down. Venim looked around, saw the chaos, and raised his tail. He slapped the floorboards of the inn with a crack that drew everyone’s attention.
“Excuse me. Pallass has been apprised of Liscor’s situation. The Assembly of Crafts has carried a motion to aid Liscor.”
“With money?”
One of the Drakes looked at Venim. He nodded.
“In part. However, in light of the Raskghar threat, it was decided in a joint meeting by the Walled Cities that Liscor lacks the population of adventurers necessary for taking on a dungeon of this size. To that end, Pallass will send through adventurers to Liscor.”
The room stared at him. Venim went on as, behind him, Ksmvr spotted shapes marching through the lightening street towards the doorway.
“Some of the teams were already preparing to enter Liscor on their own terms. The rest have been conscripted under Drake law to aid in the subjugation of this dungeon. With your permission, Watch Captain Zevara, we will send them through.”
Zevara looked bewildered, but stood up and nodded.
“You have it, Watch Captain Venim.”
He nodded back and turned his head. Venim called into the doorway.
“Send them through!”
He stood to one side. Erin stared at Venim.
“Wait, more adventuring teams? But we already got the Pride of Kelia and Gemhammer. Wait—Gemhammer’s from up north.”
Venim gave Erin a long, exasperated look.
“Pallass is far larger than Liscor. Did you think the city held only two Silver-rank teams?”
“Uh…no? How many do you have, then?”
Erin turned as the first Drake strode into the room. He was wearing thick plate armor burnished bright gold. His helmet was open to reveal his face, and his scales were bright green. His breath smoldered, and smoke poured from his mouth as he stepped through the doorway. He spat a jet of blue flame as three other Drakes wearing the same armor marched through.
The Drake in armor coughed smoke as his team strode forwards. They moved in perfect step and strode forwards towards Wall Lord Ilvriss. They paused before him. The Wall Lord stared at them, and the Drake with blue flames saluted.
“Flamewardens. Gold-rank. Here to challenge Liscor’s dungeon.”
His companions saluted as well. And behind them stepped out another team. A pair of Drakes with large wings looked around imperiously. The female Drake bowed as her wings opened.
“The Wings of Pallass. Gold-rank. To protect the city.”
Behind them came another group. Drakes, wearing robes. The leader lifted a wand and traced a symbol in the air.
“Scaleshard Mages. Silver-rank.”
And behind them came more. Drakes walked through the door, some staring at the Redfang Goblins, others visibly recoiling from the Antinium. Ksmvr stared as they entered and lined up. Row after row of Drakes, Gnolls, and occasionally other species.
“Rhine of Blades. Bronze-rank.”
“Tempest Singers. Silver-rank.”
“The Tail of Xil. Silver-rank.”
“Meliem. Silver-rank…”
The people of Liscor stared. The adventurers, Erin, all stared in awe of Pallass’ adventurers as they came through in one unending mass. And at last, they felt it. A break in the rainy sky. A glimmer of hope. Over a hundred adventurers entered Erin’s inn, fresh recruits from Pallass, from a Walled City itself. Some had come for glory, others for treasure, others because they had no choice. The reason mattered not. The tide had turned against the dungeon. Ksmvr looked around proudly. Pisces’ plan had worked!
After the last adventurer had come through, they stood, waiting for a signal, a benediction, thanks, anything. Ilvriss looked caught off-guard as anyone else, so the air of expectant patience grew strained. At last, it was Jelaqua who broke the silence. She groaned and leaned back in her chair.
“Aw, fuck. I hate competition.”
5.36
Ordinarily, on any other day, Erin would have been thrilled to have an inn full of guests. However, today just wasn’t that kind of day. She was tired, upset, ashamed of herself, and currently understaffed. Erin rushed from table to table with drinks as Drassi, Ishkr, and Lyonette all did the same. She was relieved none of the adventurers from Pallass were hungry, but everyone wanted a drink. They were sitting about, Drakes mainly, but a good number of Gnolls, chatting while the team leaders gathered around a table with Ilvriss and the other bigwigs, discussing strategy.
“Innkeep! Firebreath Whiskey for us over here!”
“Not for me! Rum if you have it!”
“Do you have any mild ales?”
“What about wine? Or…a fruit juice?”
That last came from a feathered bird-woman. Erin nearly dropped her tray when she saw the Garuda. The adventurers of Pallass hailed from the southern part of Izril, which was, again, mainly inhabited by Drakes and Gnolls. But exceptions always existed.
“We’ve got juice. What would you like?”
The Garuda brightened. She asked for Erin’s menu, then chose some grape juice—which was one of the few juices Erin had, really. Fruit juice was expensive! Especially because it had a shorter shelf life than alcohol. Ironically, you could get a keg of alcohol for less than some good old-fashioned apple juice. Apple cider on the other hand…Erin wondered if she could find a nice farm around here willing to sell her fruits for cheap. Didn’t Ryoka say she’d visited a farm once?
She was distracting herself. Erin went over to her bar and filled a mug with juice. Mrsha popped up, surprising her.
“Oh, Mrsha. Do you want a drink?”
The little Gnoll shook her head. She took a mug and filled it with ale. Then she scampered over to a table and offered it to a surprised Drake. Erin watched Mrsha run back. She felt her heart squeeze.
“You are so responsible! Good job!”
She patted Mrsha on the head and watched the Gnoll smile, then hurried back to the Garuda.
“Here’s your drink!”
“Thank you. I’d like to drink, but alcohol goes through me faster than normal. And it seems we’ll be busy soon.”
“You mean with fighting? The Raskghar are gone.”
The Garuda nodded. Her companions, Drakes with wings folded on their backs, blinked as Mrsha ran up with two mugs, slopping a bit over the sides. The Garuda sipped from her mug with her beak. She was strikingly brilliant—her feathers were a beautiful spring green color with white and slightly pink feathers patterning down her arms and legs.
Her entire body was covered in feathers, and her clothing was minimal—like the Gnolls, she wore only enough for modesty. She had a shortsword by her side and carried what looked like a bag of holding at her belt and nothing else. She wasn’t even wearing armor like some of the Drakes who were practically clanking with metal.
“That’s true, Miss. But the dungeon remains. And that’s why we’re here. My team thought about entering it, but that’s not our usual forte so we held back. But duty is duty. Pardon me, I haven’t introduced myself. Bevussa Slenderscale. I’m with the Wings of Pallass.”
“Oh! The Gold-rank team? But you’re…and your name…”
Erin frowned, confused. Bevussa smiled.
“I’m adopted. My people are known as Garuda. They live on Chandrar almost exclusively, but I was abandoned as a chick and taken in by Drakes living in Pallass. Hence the name.”
Erin slapped her forehead.
“That makes sense! Sorry, I’m a bit muddled. I was fighting off giant, angry Raskghar a few hours ago. I’m so glad you’re here. Your team are all Oldblood Drakes, aren’t they?”
She nodded at the others. The Drakes looked surprised that she knew the term for them. Bevussa smiled.
“Correct. We’re a rare group. I got in because I can fly. The others are all Oldblood, as is our, uh, leader.”
The Garuda nodded to the Drake who’d first introduced her group. Erin peered over at the Drake as she stood with the other adventurer leaders at the front of the group. The captain of The Wings of Pallass was tall for a Drake and striking with her wings folded at her back. Erin saw the other adventurers from Pallass giving her some respectful space.
“Wow. That’s cool. Sorry, I’d love to chat more, but I have to keep waiting tables.”
“Of course, Miss…”
The young woman turned and grinned.
“I’m Erin Solstice. This is my inn! Don’t mind the mess! Or the blood. Or the Hobs. We have a sign!”
She pointed at the prominent sign she’d propped up next to the bar. It was the copy of the one some of the adventurers had stared at as they’d entered the inn via Pallass. Bevussa eyed it.
“Huh. This is one weird inn. What do you think?”
She glanced at her teammates. The two Drakes stared at the Redfang Warriors who were doing their best not to attract any attention as they hauled the Cave Goblin—still tied to the chair—to a far corner of the room. One of the Drakes with purple scales and a scar running down the left side of her neck leaned over.
“We were told by that Watch Captain that this inn is unusual, Captain. It even has Antinium in it! Do you think all the inns in Liscor are like this? Or is this about the Antinium entering the dungeon?”
Bevussa grimaced and glanced around. All the other adventurers were busy gossiping. She leaned forwards.
“I told you not to call me that! When we’re in public, Issa’s the Captain, got it?”
“Sorry.”
Disgruntled, Bevussa leaned back in her chair and sipped from her drink. Probably every Gnoll in the room had heard her if they’d been listening in, but it was only the Drakes she was concerned about. She glanced around and then frowned.
