Dream (12 page)

“How close to you think we are to third level?” Jeff asked over breakfast the next morning.

“If you get XP for innovation and good ideas, we should be making very strong progress,” Shad shrugged. “A quest completed, lots of kills, plenty of class skill use. Halfway for Fred, who I figure is in the lead.”

“More than halfway,” Derek looked up from the dossiers he had been studying yet again. “We’re on a fast track.”

“How do you figure that? Yorrian said we’re abiding by the rules,” Fred objected.

Derek held up the dossiers. “We have epic level enemies. The toughest guys ever. The disparity in power means we probably are getting points for every day we survive. We know the Ultimate Master is hunting us, however sloppily.”

“Good point,” Jeff conceded.

“Any way we can turn that to our advantage?” Shad asked.

“Yeah, I think there is,” the Shadowmancer tapped his notebook. “We distribute information on weapons which can take them out. The rule is our spells are activated to send us home as they die. Nothing says we have to personally kill them.”

“What weapons would that be?” Shad gestured to Fred’s axe. “We’re on the same footing as the locals.”

“Gunpowder.”

“You said it was class knowledge that gunpowder won’t work.”

“Sure. You make a firearm and point it at a local and the powder will burn like the individual components would. But if you pointed it at Fred, it would function as the compound we call gunpowder. See, we treat the Five as if we were back on Earth, skills and all, right? So gunpowder would affect them. We can make a firecracker and test my theory; Shad, you’ve mixed gunpowder.”

“Yeah, for my muzzle-loaders. But say your idea works, manufacturing a musket is beyond any of our skills even if the local tools could manage it. The Dwarves might work one up, but you couldn’t practice with it because it will only fire if its pointed at an outlander.”

“Bombs. Didn’t they try to kill Wellington with a black powder bomb?”

“Maybe-I don’t remember. But if there are locals in the blast radius it won’t go off.”

“Yeah, but we can warn them about that fact. Think about it: we have nothing to lose. We aren’t killing anyone, and if the locals get lucky, all the better for us.”

“The Ultimate Master is hunting us,” Jeff pointed out. “While I’m not ready to stick a sword into him yet, some local offing him wouldn’t break my heart.”

“Plus we should get XP for actively operating against far superior opponents,” Derek grinned.  “Win-win.”

“Worth testing out,” Shad conceded. “That’s a project for when we reach town.”

“If it works, who do we give it to?” Jeff asked, lacing up his boots.

“There’s bound to be other people who don’t like what is happening,” Derek pointed out. “Besides those who brought us here. Plus others who just want to be boss.”

“Finding them will be tough,” Jeff countered.

“Don’t need to,” Fred mumbled. “Just post the information. It’ll find the way.”

“Yeah,” Shad nodded. “Get plates engraved-I saw an engraver’s shop. It’s a precursor to the printing press. Expensive, though.”

“No need,” Derek clapped his hands. “First level spell Copy reproduces a page instantly, so long as you’ve got blank parchment handy. Each evening I can duplicate as many pages as I have spells left.”

“Once it gets out other people will make copies,” Shad grinned. “Well, first we find out if it works. But I do believe we have a plan.”

They saw patrols wearing a red Fist late that afternoon. “The Fist started pushing out when the Ultimate Master seized power,” Jeff observed. “Incus, which we’ll reach tomorrow, is now part of the Fist. Officially it’s a border fort, but it looks like the First is still pushing south.”

“If their presence is bringing about some centralized government then the Five have been good for something,” Derek said.

The next morning they passed Incus, once a village, now a garrisoned border town, and kept marching north, four bravos in travel-marked clothing and battered armor. No one gave them a second glance.

“Thunder’s Fist,” Derek said with not a little awe.

The Fist was a castle set into the slope of a steep hill, not the fairyland elegance of Walt Disney but rather a squat stone defensive work designed to break any force sent against it. The town of the same name, unwalled, spread out from the base of the hill across the valley floor.

“Pretty impressive,” Fred nodded.

“Smaller than the City-State, but it seems lively enough,’ Jeff grinned at the city. “What’s the plan?”

“Find an inn and relax for a couple days,” Shad scratched his unshaven cheek. “You sniff out the local situation, especially the rules for the underground forays, Derek and Fred work their class-based haunts for gossip. I’ll test out Derek’s theory and make charms.”

“We don’t just want to hunt loot,” Derek objected as they headed towards town. “We want a specific job.”

“Why?” Jeff asked.

“XP. You get the points for kills, for deeds and ideas, and then at the end for completing the quest. Just doing a crawl for cash cuts out the end game bonus.”

“Good point,” Jeff conceded. “Much as it pains me to say it, we need XP more than loot.”

The town was indeed lively, more so than most streets in the City-State. Several new inns had opened, and older buildings had been converted into grog shops to accommodate the bands of swaggering bravos returning from what the locals called ‘the warrens’, the ancient underground complex to the northeast. Shops selling arms, armor, and supplies were common, and as Shad had predicted, displaying inflated prices.

The Baron’s guards were in evidence and order was being kept with a rough and ready directness, and a sense of fair play that impressed the Talons.

The Bearded Monkey catered to bravos with a bit of coin, so Shad worked on charms in the common room and was hardly the only Jinxman doing so. The Monkey’s rooms were clean and comfortable by the standards of the area but had few windows, whereas the common room was well-lit by large windows that lined the street side and were fitted with clear planes of glass-there were red Dwarves in the Fist producing very fine glass at reasonable rates.

The Jinxman finished a line of careful cuts and reached for a number three etching pick, freezing when he realized that Yorrian was sitting across the table from him, a wineglass in hand. Her dress was gray and less decorated, but otherwise she appeared as she had the last time he had seen her.

“Good afternoon,” she smiled.

Acutely aware of the throwing knife he was holding and still very startled, Shad slowly nodded. “Hi.”

“Eighteen days,” the woman remarked into the lingering silence that followed. “You’ve already out-lasted several groups.”

“No thanks to you,” Shad kept his voice low. “You brought us in too close-the Wraiths picked up our arrival.”

“Of course we did,” the Exalted Guardian made a slight gesture and he felt a chill wisp of breeze. “There-some privacy. We want you to end our troubles, not sight-see.”

“Not at first level, we won’t,” The Jinxman said bitterly. “We’ve got no firepower, no real grasp on the world, and you dump us at the dragon’s door. You’re lucky culture shock didn’t get us.”

“We were more forgiving with the first three groups, and they still haven’t accomplished a thing. All groups since have come in under the eye of one of the Five. You are here for a purpose.”

“You know, you could have improved our chances of actually accomplishing our mission by letting us start with a few enchanted items.”

“”These are not, as you must be aware, terribly common. To give eacvh group even a single item or weapon would become extremely expensive.”

“What about more starting money? We’re having to scrounge for living expenses.”

“We were more generous in the beginning, but as I have noted, the first groups have accomplished nothing.”

The Jinxman shook his head.  “How did you find us?”

“I performed the final…procedures which creates a bond that lasts for a lunar cycle. Fear not, no one else can detect it.”

“Why are you here? We’re working on the problem, but we’re still ridiculously out-matched. We’re going to be a long time preparing.”

“Make haste. The Wraiths are not as hard-working as hunters should be, but they have not missed the significance of four bravos in nearly-new clothing and equipment entering the river gate. They tracked you to your first inn, but have lost the trail since. The Alchemists do not care to share information, and you were more careful in your latter time in the City-State. You look much more the part, now.”

“That’s good news.”

“Hardly. They are coming here, and they move a good deal faster than you do. I cannot say how soon.”

“Why here? Did you tip them off?”

“Hardly. This is the only sizeable place in a great distance, and you are not the first group they have hunted. They know you must work and gain expertise before you can make a move against their master. They are not brilliant by any means, but they have experience in this particular type of hunt.”

“What level are they?”

“Not as high as you might think; the Ultimate Master chooses his underlings for their willingness to flatter and impress, rather than ability. Their leader, the Wraith-Lord, is what you would call level twelve, but he seldom leaves the City-State. Most are level five or six, at least those coming here. They expect to find you as you were eighteen days ago.”

“Good luck with that. Still, we’re in no shape to face them. I suppose any sort of help is out of the question?”

“I just warned you,” Yorrian pointed out. “That was information you would have had no opportunity to discover by any other means. We must be discreet.”

“What happens if one of us is taken alive?” Shad grinned. “We don’t owe you anything. Yorrian might not be your real name, but your looks aren’t all that common.”

She sighed and sipped her wine. “The Five know who we are.
Where
we are, now, that is another matter, and one with which you cannot help.”

“Huh.” Shad thought hard. “Look, can you tell me how to get in touch with rebel organizations? Groups that oppose any or all of the Five? Besides you and your friends.”

“Why?”

“Because they have the same goals as you do, and any help we can get will be welcome. I get that you don’t like us, but the longer the Five are here the tougher they will get and the more effect they will have. Time is not your friend.”

“The resistance against the Supreme Master is known as the Green League. Their representative here is a black Dwarf known as Raggs’beth,” Yorrian admitted after a long pause.

“How can we make contact with him-what sort of protocol to ensure he understand who we are?”

Yorrian stared at the Jinxman thoughtfully while she finished her wine. Setting her glass down she plucked a coin from the folds of her dress. “Give him this. It must stay with you until you hand it to him. If anyone else touches it the coin will be gone. He will understand the significance.” She stood. “I may contact you again before our bond fades. It all depends on how well you do.”

“Thanks,” Shad muttered after she had strode straight-backed across the room and out the door. Glancing at the coin, he stashed it in an empty charm pocket on his belt and pensively resumed his work.

“After she gave me the coin, she left,” Shad took a pull from his mug. “What does it mean?”

“Routine check-in?” Derek wondered. “We haven’t done anything special, really.”

“Why check in?” Jeff countered. “We’re level two-there’s no way we can get to any of the Five.”

“Maybe another group bought it,” Fred suggested. “She’s checking on the assets remaining.”

Jeff shook his head. “We’re pieces on a game board.”

“Well, the news about the Wraiths is interesting,” Shad kept his voice low. “If they show up that’s a point towards her credibility.”

“So we wait around to see if they show up?” Derek asked.

“Well, we blend better now, our equipment load-out is different, and you’re not in robes anymore,” Shad pointed out. “Fred’s not wearing his bearskin in town, so the only thing we have in common with their description is numbers. There’s plenty of bravos here, and most are in groups of three to six. I’m betting they’ll hang around looking for signs of who is who. But we’ll just act like bravos, and sooner or later they’ll leave. With the deal in Wyrm we spent a lot more time in transit than should be normal, so they’ll be looking for bravos who arrived here nearly a week before we did.”

“What’s our next move?” Jeff drained his mug.

“The powder works like Derek figured. Today we’ll finish writing up how to make and use it, and tomorrow we’ll meet this Dwarf and give him the info. Then we look for work, like bravos should.”

“I bet rebels need codes,” Fred muttered.

“I bet they do,” Jeff grinned.

Raggs’beth was not easy to find; he worked for a Human armorer, doing his crafting in a separate smithy behind the main establishment. The four spent much of the morning locating his place of employment and searching for a way to actually speak with him, finally choosing to bribe a crowd of street urchins to create a disturbance at armorer’s front door while they scaled the back fence.