The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 81
“Good day to you. My apologies for the interruption.”
The door closed behind him with softly.
—-
Erin stared at the door for a full minute, thoughts whirling, before she moved. She paused only long enough to make sure Toren was reassembling himself. Rags was squatting next to the skeleton, offering it bones and watching with interest as the skeleton pieced itself together one part at a time.
She had no time to wait for the skeleton. Erin ran into the kitchen and reemerged with a frying pan, the biggest one she had. She flung the door open, and made it two steps outside before the Workers grabbed her.
“Let—go of me!”
“Innkeeper Solstice must not interfere. Innkeeper Solstice must not.”
“Get off! I’m going to save Pawn! Let go!”
Erin struggled, but three Workers had her in grips like steel and the others were surrounding them. They spoke—a group speaking as one.
“The Prognugator must not be disturbed. The Prognugator will slay all who interfere. Innkeeper Solstice must not die. Innkeeper Solstice must not die.”
Erin struggled. The Workers didn’t want to hurt her. At last, she managed to wriggle out of their grips. She broke free of the mob and ran down the hill towards Liscor.
She made it several miles before the Workers caught up. They weren’t fast, but they didn’t tire. They held her.
“Innkeeper Solstice must not.”
“Why?”
She shouted it at the Worker who’d caught her. He flinched, but she was beyond caring.
“What is that Ksmvr guy doing? Why does he look exactly like Klkbch!”
The Worker hesitated, and then shook his head.
“It is forbidden to speak of Hive matters to outsiders. This one may not speak.”
Erin snapped. She took a deep breath, and shouted in the Worker’s face.
“I am your chess teacher! I am Innkeeper Solstice, and I order you to tell me!”
He hesitated. Erin grabbed him by his cool, smooth exoskeleton.
“Tell me!”
The Worker hesitated. He looked at the other Workers surrounding him and she saw them agree almost as one. It looked hesitantly back at Erin.
“This one—these ones believe the individual known as Pawn will be interrogated.”
“Interrogated? Why?”
“To determine if the individual known as Pawn is Aberration.”
“And if he is?”
“He will be executed.”
Erin’s blood went cold. She struggled, but the Worker held her.
“That’s crazy! Why? What did he do wrong?”
“Those who are Aberration kill. They are individual and reject the Hive. They destroy.”
“But Pawn isn’t violent!”
Erin stopped and stared at the Worker.
“He isn’t. You know it. I know it. He hasn’t done anything. So he’s not an Aberration, right?”
The Worker hesitated again and stared at his comrades.
“It may be so.”
“It is so!”
“No Worker who has become individual has ever not been Aberration.”
“None?”
Erin stared at the Worker. He and the others shook their heads.
“Pawn is different, though. He is. So—that Ksmvr guy will let him go, right?”
They hesitated.
“Right?”
“If the individual known as Pawn is not Aberration he may be allowed freedom within the Hive.”
Erin was no good at reading Worker’s expressions. But even she could tell that the Workers didn’t think this was very likely. She stared at them.
“I’m going to stop it.”
“It is too late. The Hive will be sealed while the individual known as Pawn is questioned. Innkeeper Solstice will not be able to enter.”
“I must.”
“It is impossible. Innkeeper Solstice must go back to her inn.”
“I’ve got to go. I must.”
“It is impossible.”
“I must go.”
“It is impossible.”
“I—”
—-
In the end, the Workers left. And they left Erin behind. She stood, holding the heavy frying pan in the middle of the plains and watched the Workers slowly trudge across the dark plains towards Liscor.
She wanted to run after her. But they’d convinced her—finally convinced her—that even if she followed them there would be nothing she could do. They would enter the hive, but apparently it would be sealed by the fearsome Antinium soldiers. And Ksmvr would be deep within the Hive, interrogating Pawn for signs of Aberration, whatever that meant.
Erin would never reach him. So she stayed, and felt like she was betraying Pawn. But she would never reach him. All Erin could do was pray.
Slowly, Erin walked back towards her inn. Her mind was full of confusion, fear, panic, a whirlwind of emotions. But those thoughts vanished from her head when she heard the shouting.
It came from her inn. Erin stared up the hill, and saw a group of dark shapes standing outside the inn. They were yelling something.
“Goblin!”
“More of them over there! Kill them!”
“Watch it! One of them knows magic!”
“Get it off! There’s a skeleton too! Toss me my sword!”
Erin ran. She charged up the hill as fast as she could. Her inn was lit from the inside, the lamps Tor had lit the only light besides the stars. In the glow from the windows she could see seven—maybe more people, striking out at Rags and her group of Goblins.
They’d been caught unawares, but the adventurers were already pulling out weapons. One of them—a massive Minotaur—pulled a humongous battle axe from his back and swung it with a roar of fury. Rags dodged the massive blade as it bit into the soil with a shrill cry of alarm. She swung her short sword, but a mage in robes pointed and the Goblin had to dive or be consumed by the flames that shot from the mage’s staff.
“Hey!”
Erin didn’t even bother with words. As the adventurers charged she raised the frying pan and hurled it as hard as she could at the Minotaur. The pan flew straight at the massive bull-man’s head, courtesy of Erin’s [Unerring Throw] Skill.
The Minotaur blinked as the pan flew at him. His hand shot up, grabbed the cast-iron skillet by the handle and halted it in midair.
Erin froze. The Goblins took one look at the Minotaur holding the frying pan and ran. One of the adventurers raised a bow, but Erin ran forwards and kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over.
Suddenly, Erin was alone and surrounded by adventurers. They stared at her, confused. One of them – a girl with pointy ears – held up her hand and stopped the other adventurers from attacking. The Minotaur stared at Erin, curious.
He’d stopped the flying frying pan of justice with one hand. Erin gulped and thought fast. Her attack had failed although Rags and her friends were clear. So that left words.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
The adventurers stared incredulously at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I own this place! What are you doing attacking my guests?”
“Guests?”
A guy with a long mustache gaped at Erin. He stared at the fleeing Goblins.
“They’re Goblins! And there’s a skeleton in there!”
He pointed at Toren, who was lying disassembled inside of Erin’s inn.
“They’re my guests. And that’s my skeleton you just beat up! This is my inn, and no one kills Goblins around here! Didn’t you read the sign? Does anyone read the damn sign?”
The adventurers, or rather, the Silver-rank adventuring group known as the Horns of Hammerad stared at each other in confusion. The night sky made everything nearly impossible to see by. Gerial stared at Erin, and then looked around.
“There’s a sign?”
—-
Erin sat in her inn, staring at the group of men, women, and one Elf and Minotaur as they sat awkwardly across from her. All of them stared alternatively at her, and at Toren as the skeleton walked around the inn, cleaning up the Worker’s dishes and the chess sets.
They weren’t about to say anything else. So Erin spoke.
“Let me get this straight. You guys are an adventuring group, and you just happened to drop by.”
“That’s right. We knew there was an inn in the area, and we wondered if it was still open.”
That came from the Elf-girl, sitting closest to Erin. She was distractingly beautiful, with features that were literally nothing like anything Erin had seen in her world. She smiled politely at Erin and the girl had to prevent herself from gaping.
Erin looked at the Minotaur instead. He was also something she’d never seen, but she wasn’t as distracted by him. Rather, his bullish head and rippling muscles made her feel like she was talking to a cow that had decided to start working out and walk around on two legs.
Which, when you got down to it, was pretty much a Minotaur.
“So you lot came here, saw the inn was full of Goblins, and decided to kill them all, right?”
The adventurers shifted in their seats. One of them shrugged.
“Well—yes.”
“Why?”
The adventurers exchanged glances. One of them—a guy in armor with a flowing mustache shook his head.
“They’re Goblins. They’re monsters. We’re adventurers. I’m sorry Miss, but we were just doing our jobs.”
Erin knew that, but she didn’t have to like it. But they hadn’t killed any Goblins and she’d made them explain three times already. And they were staring at her, so she decided to change topics.
“Okay. So you’re adventurers from up north. You said you had a name…?”
“The Horns of Hammerad.”
That came from the Minotaur. He was still staring at Erin curiously, but without any threatening to rip her head off, which is what she sort of assumed was Minotaur behavior.
“And how did you know the inn was here?”
The man with the mustaches cleared his throat awkwardly.
“We were ah, here before.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“I believe you were out at the time.”
Ceria smiled at Erin. She nodded to the skeleton.
“But I can prove we weren’t doing anything wrong. We were here to meet a certain necromancer at the time. It’s just a guess, but I’m betting you know him.”
Erin looked at Tor, and the skeleton looked inquiringly back at her. He was still wearing his sword belted to his bony waist, and the skeleton was eying the Horns of Hammerad as if it considered them to be a threat.
“I might know him. This uh, necromancer. Can you describe him?”
“He’s quite annoying.”
“Right, that’s Pisces. Okay, so you know him. And you’re here. And I guess you didn’t see the sign about not killing Goblins. Mistakes were made.”
Erin sighed and tried to relax. She looked at the group of adventurers again.
“So, what do the Horns of Hammerbad want with me?”
The Minotaur’s eye twitched, but the Elf spoke again. She might be their leader, or maybe it was mustache-guy.
“We’re looking for a place to stay.”
Erin looked blank. She pointed out the window.
“The city’s that way.”
“Yes, but every tavern, inn, and home is full to the rafters with adventurers. There’s nowhere to sleep—not even in a shed. So we came here.”
Erin still looked blank.
“Why?”
“This…is an inn, correct? Don’t you have rooms to rent?”
“What? Oh. Oh. Yeah, I’ve got them. Tons of them. All empty.”
Silence. The Horns of Hammerad exchanged a glance. Ceria coughed politely and smiled at Erin.
“Could we perhaps stay here? I promise you we won’t cause any trouble and we have plenty of coin.”
That had a hollow ring to it after the earlier incident. Erin thought it over, chewing at her lip.
“I don’t like people who attack Goblins. They’re my guests and you chased them off.”
This comment seemed to seriously annoy the Minotaur. He leaned forwards, snorting, but mustache-guy pushed him back in his chair. From his seat the Minotaur snapped at Erin.
“Those creatures are scum. They should be exterminated.”
Erin’s brows snapped together. The other Horns of Hammerad groaned and the Elf kicked backwards, hitting the Minotaur’s shin. All that happened was that she winced.
Mustache-guy smoothed his mustaches and looked concerned. He spoke to Erin, attempting a charming smile.
“I assure you, Mistress, um, Erin. This was all a mistake. If we’d seen the sign we wouldn’t have attacked.”
“Hm.”
Erin eyed the adventurers. She still wasn’t happy, not least because they were in her way while she was still thinking about Pawn. She made up her mind rapidly.
“Look, you didn’t kill the Goblins. So I guess I’ll forget that. But if you stay here, you will either obey my rules or you can sleep outside. Got it?”
All of the Horns of Hammerad nodded at once. Only the Minotaur did not. Erin stared at him.
“How about you bull-guy?”
His eyebrow twitched and everyone else in the inn winced. The Minotaur stared at Erin hard, but she didn’t look away.
“Everyone else seems like they’ll be okay, but are you going to obey my rules or do I have to kick you out?”
The thought of her kicking the Minotaur out was ridiculous, but Erin was too angry to care. The Minotaur stared hard at her, blew out air exasperatedly, and finally nudged the Elf-girl aside as she silently kicked him under the table.
“Upon my honor, I promise. I will not attack any of your guests unless provoked.”
That seemed like it was all Erin was going to get. She nodded.
“Okay, then. In that case I have a few rooms upstairs. Enough for all of you. But I don’t have any pillows.”
The Horns of Hammerad smiled in relief. The Elf spoke to Erin.
“That’s fine. We can make do.”
Erin nodded and stood up. Her mind was blank. What were you supposed to say at times like this? Guests. She had guests. She picked a direction and put her mouth on autopilot.
“Your rooms are upstairs. Go ahead and pick whatever one you want. We might have to get two beds for cow-guy, but it should be fine.”
She pointed at the kitchen.
“Breakfast is in the morning. There’s no alcohol, but I’ve got plenty of food. There’s an outhouse outside—just be careful that you don’t walk into a monster. If you see a huge moving rock, shut the door and stay quiet. Don’t go into the kitchen if you want something to eat—there are jars of acid lying around. Don’t drink anything green in general. No killing Goblins, the skeleton works for me, and if you see an ant-guy with two swords and two daggers, hit him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Got it?”
The Horns of Hammerad hesitated, and then nodded. Erin waited, and then shrugged.
“That’s about it. I’ll make some food if you want anything.”
She stomped out of the common room and into the kitchen. Bemused, the adventurers watched her go. For a few seconds they heard her talking to the skeleton, and then Erin walked back out. She pointed at the adventurers.
“One more thing. Do any of you play chess?”
Again, all of the adventurers had to exchange glances of confusion. At last, the mustached man looked back at Erin and raised one eyebrow.
“What’s ‘chess’?”
Erin sighed.
1.37
Erin dreamt of swords flashing, of cannonballs exploding around her, and of blood. Rivers of blood.
Klbkch stood in front of Erin and asked if she was ready. She looked at him as he bled in her arms. His mandibles opened and he rasped into her ear.
“I obey my Queen.”
She shook her head. Dream Erin pointed and showed Klbkch a massive chess piece sitting on a hill.
“The King. It’s about the King. The king is smart. He—”
She was no longer holding Kblckh. Instead, Erin sat and watched as a body fell to the ground and oil burned around her. A dead Goblin’s face stared at her and she woke in a cold sweat to see Toren standing in one corner of her room.
It was better. Infinitely better than seeing the dead. Erin still threw her pillow at him. It struck him in the face — not hard, but loud enough to startle someone.
“Whu?”
It came from outside the kitchen. Erin was immediately seized by panic. She looked around for her frying pan and then remembered.
She had guests.
Blearily, Erin kicked her bedding into one corner of the kitchen and walked out. It was still close to dawn, but surprisingly, someone was awake.
Ceria blinked several times at Erin and nodded her head. It seemed the Elf mage was an early riser, but even she was half-asleep.
“Whu?”
She repeated the word. Erin swayed on her feet.
“Hrgh.”
“Mm.”
Conversation done, Erin stumbled back into the kitchen to make food. Toren stood by, handing her pan, spatulas, and various food items as she pointed and grunted. Breakfast was scrambled eggs, toasted bread, bacon from some animal, and sliced cheese.
It was unnatural how she could make a proper breakfast, but Erin wasn’t thinking about that at the moment. Her hands moved automatically as she thought about her dream.
It had meant something. And for some reason, even though Erin had been dreaming about death and battle she’d been thinking about chess. She always thought about chess, even when she was asleep.
Still caught in the last fragments of her dream, Erin muttered the words.
“The king…the king is smart. He uses something. His head?”
Erin scratched at her own head, wondering where that line had come from. Well, obviously it was about chess. But had she heard it somewhere? She felt like it was important.
The bacon was finished and sizzling. Erin picked the fried strips of meat out of the pan, wincing at the spot of oil that landed on her arm.
“Ow. Ow. Ow!”
