Dream (7 page)

“All right, we have an edge. What else you got, Fred?”

“If the mound wasn’t in an area under direct control, or if they were nomads, they would conceal the mound by making it look natural while leaving a method of marking it so future tribesmen could find it.”

“What do we look for?”

“A method of marking that won’t look man-made, but which is distinctive. Nomads in the plains of the Ukraine planted trees on top of the mound. Certain types of trees.”

“What about these trees?” Shad gestured towards the silverlines.

“They only grow on the Plains,” Derek said thoughtfully. “Well, places like the Plans. Something in the soil.”

“When did you get a lecture on trees?” Jeff snickered.

Derek flushed. “Hey, she was cute. And she was prepping the leaves.”

“Too bad we didn’t get a contract to gather leaves, too,” Shad shook his head.

“They grow them, the alchemists. You just have to prep the soil…” Derek’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah,” Fred grinned. “I wonder if those nomads knew how to prep the soil?”

“Worth looking into,” Shad heaved his pack back on. “Lets go.”

“Sum
bitch
,” Shad gasped, dumping his pack and collapsing into the dry grass. “That’s pretty damn steep.”

“Its been a while since I marched up a slope with a pack,” Jeff gasped, dropping pack-first onto his back and then wriggling out of the straps.

“I hate this place,” Fred sat on his pack and rubbed his left knee. “I still think they left some metal in here. Military doctors suck.”

“Go easy on the water, Derek,” Jeff warned. “Our canteens are all we’ve got, and we’re not getting any more until tomorrow.”

“Speaking of tomorrow, let’s make camp in that dip over there, no fire, and we can look at trees tomorrow. We’re almost out of light.”

“That clump Fred spotted is only about three hundred yards from here, more or less,” Jeff dragged his pack into the depression Shad had indicated.

“Might as well start there tomorrow.” Shad picked a spot and carried his pack over. “You know, you forget how much fun it is to hump a pack,” he observed as he pulled off his boots. “Oh, man, I needed that.”

“You know, Fred had a good point,” Derek kept his voice low so it would not carry. “We all have knowledge from a more advanced society.”

“You mean the History Channel, the Military Channel, and NatGeo,” Jeff dusted his feet with talc.

“Whatever. Thing is, we know stuff that other people here don’t.”

“Well, Fred’s theory has yet to be proven, but if he is right, what’s your point?” Shad asked. “There’s only so much application we can bring. Knowing what made the Roman Legions great doesn’t do much for four guys with chump change between them.”

“Well, for one thing me and Fred saw a documentary on codes,” Derek persisted. “I bet there is a demand for that. We take some down time, we can work it up and sell it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jeff nodded. “Modern coding is far advanced over what they had in medieval times.”

“Only problem I see is word getting to the Ultimate Master,” Shad pointed out. “A modern code popping up means he’s got a hit team on his tail.”

“Choose your buyer,” Fred mumbled. “Somebody who will just use it, not re-sell it. And he knows he has hit teams on him-we’re not the first.”

“Good point,” Shad conceded. “And good ideas. We need to drop assumptions and give every documentary and history book a good thinking over.”

“Are we really going to try to kill the Ultimate Master?” Derek asked as he dug out his mess kit.

“That’s up to a vote, which I suggest we postpone for a while,” Shad shrugged. “We have to level up quite a bit before we try, and frankly, I’m not terribly enthused about being an assassin. Self-defense and non-Humans I can live with. Of course, I want to go back home, too. Way I see it, we have two options to get home: frag the five and hope Yorrian was telling the truth about these tats, or locate the five, choose the most approachable, and see if they can get us home.”

“Or find Yorrian and hold her feet to the fire until she sends us back,” Jeff suggested.

“Three options,” Shad conceded.

“What about hiring a mage?” Fred asked.

“I don’t think so,” Derek shook his head. “Class knowledge, but an undertaking like getting us home would require something extremely special. I bet Yorrian was part of a group effort. Remember, these guys have been stuck here for thousands of years.”

“But the rules are different for us,” the Shadowmancer continued. “If my class knowledge is right, we can get back because we’re not native.”

“Well, we’ll call getting home the core quest,” Shad broke a hardtack on the pommel of his dagger. “Lotta research before we get a glimmer of a plan. Derek, could a mage detect that we are outsiders?”

“No.”

“Could they detect where we came through…or into, or whatever?”

The Shadowmancer pondered the question. “Maybe. If they were actively looking. But there would be a delay, like a sonar ping. How long, I don’t know.”

“So assuming the watcher or magic tracking item was in the city, the Ultimate Master wouldn’t know we had arrived for a while,” Shad mused. “We came by the most direct route, and we didn’t encounter anyone hunting us, so either he wasn’t watching, or no response was organized until after we were within the walls. He can’t locate us by magic, so all he has is old-fashioned detective work.”

“We came through the most logical gate, and cashed in Goblin ears,” Jeff pointed out. “We would be remembered.”

“Derek ditched his robes yesterday, and that’s the most memorable thing about us,” Shad countered. “I saw several bear barbarians in the city. If all he knows is that we came through, there’s no guarantee we came to the city.”

“So do we stick to the job?” Fred asked.

“Yeah. We need the money.” Shad thought hard. “But when we go back we use another inn, just to be safe, and we buy a map. We better look for another base of operations.”

“What if they make sketches of us?” Derek asked.

Jeff shrugged. “You saw how many people were there. None of us really stand out since you ditched the robes.”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Shad said. “We need the money. If we get a good haul of this whitestone we’ll cash in, get a map, and head to new digs. We wait a month and we can come back without a worry. He can’t detect us, so as long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves by blurting out something modern, we’re OK.”

“Could he detect the tattoos?” Fred asked.

Derek concentrated. “No. They’re inert. Plus Jinxmen hang charms and runes on people. If he has his men actually looking for the ink, though…”

“He doesn’t,” Jeff grinned. “The gate guards just made sure we knew the rules.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Fred asked. “That would be simple.”

“Because they’re not all in the same place,” Shad nodded to himself. “Yorrian’s group must have been careful to avoid putting them on the same part of the body.”

“What about covering them?” Jeff asked. Would that affect them?”

“Not if it was by ink, not a tattoo,” Derek shook his head. “Man, it’s weird knowing stuff that I shouldn’t know. But we could have a tattoo artist paint a design over it, and get it renewed regularly.”

“Excellent idea,” Shad slapped Jeff on the shoulder. “But we don’t do it in the City State. The artist would see the actual tats we’re wearing.”

“So, the core quest is to get home, with its next step to gather information,” Derek mused. “Currently we’re on the Whitestone side-quest.”

“Lets flip for the watch roster and get some sleep,” Shad suggested. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

Chapter Four

“This sucks,” Fred pronounced with great finality.

“You’re the one being vindicated,” Derek reminded him.

“Still sucks.”

It had required careful examination to reveal that the area the clump of silverlines grew on was in fact a man-made mound. Using Fred’s recollection of the documentary, they started examining the compass points beginning with the east side, and had discovered a slight depression which the barbarian believed would lead to the doorway of the burial chamber. Their short spade and pickaxe dealt with the dirt easily enough, hindered only by Shad’s instruction to keep the hole as small and covert as possible.

“Now what?” Derek threw a pebble at the doorway their dig had revealed. Blocking it was an assembly of logs that was more of a palisade than a door.

Crouching in the hole, Shad dug the point of his dagger into the wood. “Pretty damn old. OK, two thoughts: figure out how they put this thing in place from the outside, or hack our way through.”

“I thought you wanted the hole kept small,” Derek shook his head.

“I do. Look, assuming they used whitestone here, there’s going to be more stone in this place than we can carry. So we hide the hole and return when we need more money. Anyone else looking for whitestone sees a fresh hole, they’re going to investigate.”

“Good idea,” Derek conceded.

“They dug down,” Fred announced, leaning into the hole. “To put the logs in. Probably several feet.”

“That’s OK,” Shad sheathed his dagger. “These things are eaten up with dry rot and bugs. Too bad we didn’t bring a hatchet.” He looked up at Fred. “I hate to ask you this…”

“It’s OK,” Fred unslung his axe. “Gimme some room.”

“If they used whitestone we’ll be standing tall,” Jeff commented, weighing a torch in his hand.

“We could use a break,” Shad agreed. Below them Fred was making short work of the barrier. “Let’s get the torch lit-looks like you’re up.”

“Send in the thief,” Derek laughed.

“Watch the color of your torch,” Fred advised. “The air might be bad.”

Torch before him, Jeff eased through the door. “Hey, we got the stone! Wait…HEY!” The lean man shot back out the doorway, torch-less and grabbing at his rapier.

“What the hell?” Shad drew his sword. “What could possibly still be in…”

“SKELETON!” Jeff yelled as a figure lurched through the doorway and began to ascend the loose soil.

In the sunlight it could be seen as a Human skeleton of age-browned bone with a few wisps of cloth and age-hardened leather adhering to its frame. A greenish-black glow filled its eye sockets, and it purposefully clutched a long dirk of dark flint in its fleshless left hand.

“Well….damn.” Shad muttered as Derek’s silver-blue bolt of light blasted apart the ribs on its right side.

Fred’s axe sheared off the undead’s leg and half its pelvis, but he grunted as its dirk raked his side. His return swing caved in its chest, and the bones abruptly rattled to the ground, inert.

“That wasn’t too bad,” the barbarian grinned.

“There’s more!” Derek yelled, punctuating his warning with a brilliant bolt of energy. More skeletons were clambering out of the sundered doorway, all armed with flint weapons.

“Let’s do this,” Shad stepped up to the edge of the hole and deflected a swing from a hand axe with his buckler while thrusting towards the undead’s face. The steel sheared off the thing’s jaw, but it was undeterred. He caught its second attack with his buckler, feeling the boss dent inwards slightly as the axe’s handle split, and punched the point of his sword through the roof of its mouth, causing the creature to revert to inert bone.

Another came at him, losing its right arm to one of Derek’s bolts as it did so. Shad cursed as its talon-like fingers raked his right side, the Jinxman alternatingly bashing it with his buckler and hacking with his sword until it dropped.

“Shit,” Jeff gasped as the four slowly lowered their weapons, the hole and the ground surrounding it littered with old bones. “How many was that?”

“Six skulls,” Shad touched his side and winced as the fingers came away bloody.

“Oh, crap,” Fred raised his axe as another skeleton emerged through the doorway. “Here’s the chieftain they buried.”

This skeleton wore a bronze helm now pitted and sea-green with age and bore a singled-edged bronze sword that resembled a falcata. Necklaces rattled against its bare ribs as it trudged up out of the hole, gracefully bending to catch up a flint sword in its left hand.

“This is bad,” Shad observed as Fred started shouting and Derek’s bolt blasted a single rib apart. “Give ground, get it on all sides.”

Jeff stabbed the chieftain through the ribs as Shad parried the bronze sword with his buckler and deflected the flint weapon with his short sword. Derek belted the undead from behind with his staff, while Fred bellowed an inarticulate war cry and stove in its left rib cage.

Shad blocked the flint blade and hacked that arm off at the elbow before the bronze blade caught him above the hip and sent him crashing to the ground. Derek struck the chieftain again with such force that his staff splintered and he was spilled off his feet.

Still beleaguered from both sides the skeleton turned and lashed out at Fred, sending him staggering from the fray, only to collapse into lifeless bone as Jeff’s sword punched through its spine and breastbone.