Dream (29 page)

They lived on a deficit of funds but it was a very slow attrition, and the Talons fell into a comfortable routine. Shad continued to make at least one charm per day, Sam practiced his class for intelligence material and a little money, Derek studied what reading material Sam’s contacts could make available, and Jeff and Fred kept their ears peeled in the circles to which their classes allowed them access.

Twenty-one days after their meeting with the Assembly they learned that another of the intruders was nearly killed by a bomb, and they all received a modest bump to the red line of experience.

It was not an unpleasant life, and while it was far short of their old lives, in some ways it was more comfortable than Iraq had been, and the four adjusted. Margit stopped by to visit every few days, and they were pleased to see that she was blooming in her new environment.

On the ninety-sixth day since their arrival Shad and Derek were sitting outside their barracks playing chess, drinking ale, and keeping an eye on the shipments yard. Summer was now at its peak and while it was a good twenty degrees cooler than Texas’ summer, a setting without air conditioning and primitive bathing made being indoors not all that pleasant.

Derek was winning, as usual. “You know, I’m thinking that Mount Doom might be worth the risk to get back to air conditioning,” Shad mopped his forehead. The Talons had their hair cut close to help with the heat, but even though cotton was common here the local cloth was still heavier than machine-woven fabrics. That the city walls cut most breezes did not help at all.  

“Yeah, I would kill for an hour with my laptop. I’m sick of life with only live music.”

“Even in Iraq we had MP3 players. The heat is bad enough, but we can’t wait past first frost. The winters here are going to be a lot different than Texas’.”

“Still, I’m not enthused about going after Goblins underground.”

“Neither am I, at least not yet. Another couple weeks and I might be.”

“From what Fred has worked out we’re about at the end of August, so the heat should start to break any day now.”

“True. Still, I had more hopes for the gunpowder.”

“Yeah, but we’re not out any…well,
shit
.”

  The Jinxman looked up from the board to see Yorrian striding purposely through the shipments yard, a frown stamped on her face. “Damn.” When the mage drew close he waved a casual hand that the pitcher wrapped in wet sacking. “Pull up a keg and join us. Ale?”

Yorrian gestured and the temperature of the air dropped ten degrees as the sounds around them faded.

“Ahh, that’s nice,” Shad stretched. “Derek, you need to learn how to do that.”

“Next level.”

“Are you done?” Yorrian snapped, seating herself as imperiously as one could when sitting on an empty twenty-gallon keg.

“Sure. To what do we owe the honor?’

“We brought you here for a reason,” the mage snarled.

“Two down and one pretty badly injured by our methods,” the Jinxman shrugged. “Not bad work in ninety-six days. Especially since we came in at first level with no special gear and very little money.”

“A bargain,” Derek agreed.

“There are three groups of bravos raiding into the Great Field with the powder you created,” Yorrian frowned. “Revenants are dying faster than they are being replaced.”

“Have you met any revenants? They’re horrible,” Shad shrugged. “They’re no loss to anyone, really.”

“That is not the point. There is vast wealth, the arms and armor of several armies, and almost as many enchanted items on that field as are in use in this half of the world. Certainly more of the artifact weapons and devices than are currently in use. The revenants serve as a control, they prevent too much of the Field’s bounty from coming into the world at one time.”

“What have you got against bravos making good?”

“If the Field is exploited too quickly it will destabilize the entire region. A flood of gold, weapons, and artifacts will bring an equal flood of problems. You will cease selling your powder and devices at once.”

“Look, you brought us here against our will to do a job, you refused to give us any support, and now you are restricting our ability to function?” Shad threw up his hands. “Make up your mind.”

“The Council is placing the Great Field under a ban,” Yorrian snapped. “Several of our members are en route there to enforce it, while others will locate and purchase the items you sold to the bravos. Much is going undone because of your childish pranks.”

Shad held up his left forearm. “Pranks that dropped two of your intruders.”

“We want the intruders gone because they disturb the natural order of our world. You are rapidly entering into that category yourselves.”

“All right,” Derek held up his hand, palm outwards, in a gesture of peace. “We’ll cease and desist.”

“Good.” Yorrian visibly calmed herself. “Why are you staying in the City-State? There are still three more intruders.”

“We needed to rest-we had been on some pretty rough operations. And we’re just level six, we needed to get a better picture of the remaining intruders,” Shad explained. “Plus it is very hot-we hoped to sit out the heat of summer.”

“You hoped your powder would send you home without lifting a finger,” Yorrian sneered. “It won’t work. The survivors amongst the intruders have worked out that the powder will not affect them if a native is within the area of effect. Your days of hiding are over-get to work.”

“Any chance we could make a run at the Great Field on the way?” Derek asked. “We could use a boost in equipment and money. Naturally we would keep it secret.”

“Absolutely not.”

“She was thoroughly pissed,” Derek concluded. The Talons were sitting on the riverbank fishing as the sun was setting. Jeff had located a guard captain who would let them in a sally gate after dark for a few shillings, and it was pleasantly cool along the river once the sun had set. “Not a put-on or a front.”

“The economic and political disruption she’s worried about if the Field gets mined isn’t the real issue, it’s the damage to the
status quo
,” Jeff said thoughtfully. “The Council really doesn’t want the political and social ship rocked.”

“Well, betting on the rebels was a long shot anyway,” Fred sighed. “We had a good rest, and the charm inventory is in good shape. I guess its off to Mount Doom.”

“You know, we’ve met her three times,” Shad said slowly. “Our initial briefing, then on day eighteen she showed up to warn us about the Wraiths and probably to get a good look at how we were doing. Then today.”

“Well, her link to us died while we were at the Fist,” Derek pointed out.

“Yeah, but we’re not that hard to find-we’ve been in the same place for weeks. Two intruders dropped because of our efforts and nary a word, comment, or inspection. Then we start helping bravos hit the Great Field and she appears, pissed off and wanting us out of the City-State.”

“You have a point?” Fred asked.

“Yeah. Maybe. I’m wondering if the Council really cares all that much about the intruders.”

“What? That’s why they
brought
us here,” Sam threw up his hands.

“No, that’s why they
said
they brought us here.”

“Never trust the game master,” Derek snapped his fingers. “You’re always telling us that planning on an assumption leads to failure.”

“So the Council for all intents and purposes are the GM,” Jeff mused, laying back into the grass. “So we never assume that the campaign hook is really the campaign hook. OK, so are the intruders real?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded. “The dossier on the Ultimate Master was confirmed by me and Sam. Likewise at least two other intruders checked out, and there’s nothing to indicate any of the others are fakes.”

“So what is the deal, then?” Fred asked.

“The deal is that the Council is smarter than we are, and like the GM they know far more about the setting than we do,” Derek said grimly. “We’re worse than pawns on the board, guys: I think we’re the GM’s NPCs. And we’re not sticking to the script.”

“So the intruders are the player characters?” Sam looked alarmed.

“Yeah, I think they might be,” the Shadowmancer said unhappily.

“That bodes ill,” Fred sighed. “But it fits.”

“If the intruders are the PCs, that means there is a relationship between the Council and the intruders,” Derek said.

“Look, the GM-player thing is more a metaphor than an actual concept, but I think it points us in the right direction,” Shad said.

“It could be there’s another faction in the game that has the PC role,” Fred suggested.

“There could be. In any case we need to leave the City-State before the Council decides that it is time to ice us. Moreover, she let slip that there are Council members heading to the Great Field and others to buy off the bravos to whom we sold the bang sticks. That means at least close to half the Council is busy, and they expect us to leave town,” Shad ticked off points on his fingers. “This could be the best time for us to pull the Mount Doom job and get home.”

“Yeah,” I think you’re right,” Jeff nodded. “Derek, where is this place?”

“About a hundred miles south-southeast of the Great Field. Instead of turning west off the South Way we keep going sixty miles more and then turn west. The tomb is in caverns underneath a mountain, in a pretty sizeable complex of warrens. The group that left before us used enchantment and sweat to open a long-closed way into the complex, and then concealed it. We can expect Goblins and cave spiders.”

“Those are the big bastards like we killed out past Wrym, right?” Fred sighed.

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

“How long will we spend underground?” Shad asked.

“A day, maybe two if things have changed a lot-the previous group did not do anything except secure us a way in; the map we have from that point is real old. The good news is that due south a lot further is the hold of another intruder, so heading south will excite no interest amongst the Council.”

“OK, Shad sighed. “Well, Derek worked out the equipment list a while back, so tomorrow you guys buy what we need and close out our business interests; I’ll go back to charms full-time. The day after that we say our goodbyes, dump all but say five Marks into Margit’s account with the bankers and the morning of the third day we roll south.”

“The good news is that in a couple of weeks we could be home,” Jeff pointed out.

“Yeah. Quick recap: last level-up I stayed in class, took Underground Orientation and Goblin Fighting.”

“I stayed in class, took Underground Orientation, another point in Creature Lore, and another point in Cartography,” Derek advised.

“I went with sword-master and put both points in Gem Settings because I don’t want any mistakes when I set the stones into our bracers. I’ve already purchased the tools,” Jeff said quietly.

“Stuck with class, already had Goblin Fighting, so I took a point in Underground Combat and used the other to give my Rage a boost.”

“Still pure Bard, I took Underground Conditions and Advanced Fencing,” Sam said sadly. “I had hoped to boost my knowledge of certain aspects of local history, but that’s how it goes. I did pick up two points in my studies during this down time, but that didn’t take me where I wanted to go.”

“Planning on winning a trivia contest before we leave?” Jeff grinned.

“No, I wanted to see what I could learn about Fu Hao’s time here, and about who entombed her, but you have to hit level four in that particular branch of history skill, and I’m standing at level two.”

“Too bad-that was a good idea,” Shad conceded. “But needs must when the devil drives-we go as we are. Let’s get back inside and get some Zs. There’s a hard run ahead of us.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Its amazing how fast walking everywhere gets old,” Derek announced as he dumped his pack. “I wish we had dreamt our way into Fallout.”

“You walk everywhere in Fallout,” Jeff looked up from digging the evening’s fire pit.

“Not in Fallout 2; there you got vehicles, even a tank.”

“One word for you, Derek: deathclaws.”

“Two right back at you: Fat Man launcher.”

“That’s three,” Fred pointed out.

“Whatever.”

“Besides, deathclaws move too fast to use a Fat Man,” Shad objected. “The only way I dropped a deathclaw was to snipe ‘em at a distance with an anti-material rifle. Anyway, this dump could be worse: we could be dodging dragons in Skyrim.”

“There was never an ugly girl in Skyrim,” Jeff said wistfully. “Nor one that was less than a C cup.”

“Far Cry 4,” Fred mused. “That one had everything from mini-copters to boats.”

“Yeah, but the NPC body armor was insane,” Derek objected.

“Hey, an enemy who uses red and maroon uniforms and armor is fine by me,” Shad countered. “Give me evil and stupid any day.”

“The whiny peasants got old very fast,” Jeff shook his head. “You stop in your base camp to swap out weapons and grab some Zs and there’s some serf wailing in the corner of your quarters. Helluva way to run an operation.”