Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2) (24 page)

“Yeah,” said Tim. “I know. And you know how important morale is. We’ve got to hang on to whatever hope we’ve got, no matter how slim the odds.”

“Well spoken, friend.” Frank pushed himself off the crate, his weight on his good foot. He turned to Dave. “Now, if you don’t mind helping me up the stairs, I’ve got to go and give my people some much needed good news.”

“Um,” said Tim. Frank turned around. “Is it still okay if we crash here tonight?”

“You boys are welcome here as long as you like.”

Chapter 23

Tim, Julian, Dave, Cooper, and Chaz stood outside a cute little two-story cottage with cobblestone walls and a thatched roof. It was the sort of place that an irresponsible parent might send their daughter through a wolf-infested forest to deliver goodies to. This was no forest though, and this cottage was one of the many places of business lining the street which seemed designed to invoke some sort of old-world fairy tale nostalgia. That’s the gist Tim got anyway. For all he knew, this was just the way shops were supposed to look in this world. It was a far cry from the area the Whore’s Head was located in, where you might only recognize a storefront due to a sign painted in blood on the back of a broken shield. The sign above the door they were currently looking at had been professionally crafted, and was painted with large friendly pastel green letters on a purple background.

“Professor Goosewaddle’s Potions and Scrolls Emporium,” said Tim, reading the sign. It was the eighth magic shop they had been to, having been laughed out of the previous seven for such a preposterous request, and the list of options was dwindling down to nothing. Tim steeled his nerves against what would most likely be another rejection as he led his friends through the beaded doorway.

“Welcome,” said a soothing female voice, the source of which was nowhere to be seen in the dark and dusty shop, “to Professor Goosewaddle’s Potions and Scrolls Emporium.”

“Who’s there?” said Tim. He squinted his eyes as they adjusted from the bright light outside. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with glass bottles, clay jars, and steel scroll tubes. A quaint spiral staircase led up to the second floor of the shop. Conspicuously absent, however, was a shop attendant to whom Tim could attribute the voice.

“Sleeping potions are on sale this week,” the voice continued as if Tim hadn’t spoken. “Get the rest you deserve. Completely safe and non habit-forming. Now available in lemon flavor.”

“Show yourself,” said Tim. He put his hand on the pommel of his sword, just to reassure himself that it was there.

“Or perhaps we could interest you in a scroll of Whispering Wind. When you’re far from home, you can still tell that special someone you care.”

“I don’t want a scroll of Whispering Wind, dammit!”

“Feeling unattractive?”

“Fuck you!”

“Why not try a potion of –”

The voice was cut short by two sharp claps. The source of this sound was also invisible, but at least it was coming from a discernible direction.

Tim moved cautiously toward the counter. The clapping had come from the open doorway behind the counter, but the doorway was empty.

“Hello?” said Tim.

A white-bearded face popped up over the counter. “Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Professor Goosewaddle. What can I brew for you today?”

Tim cleared his throat. “We… um…”

“We need a spell cast on us,” said Julian, who was at a better height to look him in the eye.

“Well, sirs,” said the professor chirpily. “You’ve come to the right place.” He climbed all the way up onto the counter, revealing a stature no bigger than Tim’s. He was a gnome. He sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the counter. “What’ll it be? Constitution? Night out with the whores? Want to keep your stamina up? That it?”

“What?” said Julian. “No, we –”

“Don’t worry,” the professor went on. “I get you young fellers in here all the time, always too shy to just come right out and say what they want. There’s no shame in it, boys. You think I haven’t shacked up with a whore or two in my day? My transaction records are completely confidential. What happens at Professor Goosewaddle’s Magic Emporium stays at Pro—”

“We need a Teleport,” said Tim.

Professor Goosewaddle frowned down at Tim. “I’m sorry, my lad. That’s just not the way Teleport works. Teleport is a spell which the caster casts on himself. Not on another.”

“I know how the spell works,” said Tim. “It’s been explained to us seven times already today.”

“So what made you think my explanation would be any different?”

“I don’t know,” said Tim. “I guess I was hoping you’d be smarter, or more imaginative, or just plain greedier.”

The professor stroked his beard. Tim had his attention.

“Come into some money, have you boys?”

Tim’s eyes shifted involuntarily toward the Bag of Holding in Cooper’s hand. He quickly looked back at the gnome on the counter. “We’ve got some stashed away.”

The lie fell flat. Professor Goosewaddle stared at the Bag of Holding.

Shit.

The professor looked at Tim and smiled. “No need to fear, lads,” he said. “I run an honest shop. I’ve got no desire to tangle with a bunch of young fellers at my age.” He sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Let’s say I could cast the spell on you lads instead of myself. A few alterations of the incantation should sort that out well enough. But there’s a bigger problem, you see.”

Tim dared to get his hopes up just a bit. This was much further than he’d gotten with any of the other wizards and sorcerers he’d talked to today. “What’s the problem?”

Professor Goosewaddle pulled a comically long pipe out of his sleeve and lit the bowl with a snap of his fingers. He took a few puffs to get it started. “The spell requires that one be intimately familiar with the desired destination. Are you planning to go somewhere I might have been before?”

Tim frowned. “No,” he said weakly. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I’m sorry, my boy. I just don’t see how I can help you.”

“What about telepathy?” asked Julian.

Everyone looked at him.

“Go on,” said the professor.

“If you could read our minds while you cast the spell, could you be familiar enough with the destination?”

“Hmmm…” said the gnome. He took a long drag on his pipe. “Clever lad. That’s thinking outside the box. I’ll admit you have provided me with an interesting challenge. I never could resist a puzzle.”

“Then you’ll do it?” asked Tim, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

“I’ll consider it. It will be complicated for certain, if not impossible. So no promises. You understand?”

“Of course!” said Tim.

“Give me the night to think it over.”

“Anything you want,” said Tim, already shoving Cooper toward the doorway.

“And I expect to be paid for my effort,” the professor called out after them as they scrambled out the door. “Don’t spend all your money on whores!”

Tim exited the shop in high spirits, but that faded when he saw a tall, lanky figure lurking near an alley about two blocks away, pretending to not be looking at them. He’d seen this person outside of at least two of the magic shops they’d been to earlier in the day. Twice could be dismissed as mere coincidence. Maybe the guy was just browsing the magic shops, looking for an enchanted ring. But not a third time. Anyway, this guy wasn’t shopping. He was spying.

When it came to people who would want to spy on his group, Tim had a very short list of suspects. He could rule out Pestilence. That half-orc could pick his tusks with this skinny bastard. Frank had said the wizard who had blown the place up called himself War. The guy lurking in an alley was no wizard. Tim knew a rogue when he saw one. If Tim remembered Revelations correctly, that left only Famine and Death. He had a pretty good idea which one this was.

“Famine!” Tim shouted.

The figure jumped like he’d just licked a wall socket.

“That’s one of them!” cried Tim.

“One of who?” asked Cooper.

“The fucking Horsemen, you dolt!”

“Oh,” said Cooper. He put his hand on his axe.

Tim put his hand on Cooper’s arm, but kept his eyes on Famine. Strangely enough, the lanky rogue neither advanced nor fled. Tim guessed he was waiting for them to make the first move, knowing he could easily outrun them if it came to that.

“Listen,” said Tim, just loud enough for his friends to hear him. He tried not to move his lips when he spoke. “Don’t look now. There’s an inn about a block behind us and across the street. Dave and Julian. You are going to get a room there. Understood?”

“Okay,” said Julian.

“Cooper,” Tim continued. “You are going to chase that skinny bastard until you lose him.”

“Suppose I catch him,” said Cooper.

“Don’t,” said Tim. “Just let him go. Whatever you do, don’t follow him into an alley or anything. He’ll be extremely dangerous once he’s out of your line of sight. Just follow him until you lose him, and then join Julian and Dave in the inn. The three of you sit tight and don’t make a fucking peep.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Dave.

“I’m going to sneak off and tell Frank the plan. Then I’ll join you back at the inn.”

“Why don’t we all go see him together?” asked Dave.

“Famine saw us come out of this magic shop,” said Tim. “He saw us looking excited. I want to keep an eye on this place until we’re all set to go.”

Famine was looking fidgety, as if he was considering making the first move after all. That wouldn’t do.

“Are you ready?” asked Tim.

“Just a sec,” said Julian. “We have a plan?”

“I’m going to tell Frank about Professor Goosewaddle, and that Famine spotted us. I’m going to tell him to hold tight, and that if this works, we’ll see about getting our hands on those magic dice, and getting all of them back home. Time is running out. Cooper, are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Go.”

“Bwwwaaaaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh!” said Cooper, running like a rabid gorilla toward the rogue. Famine bolted down the street. Tim thought that odd. He would have chosen the alley.

“Okay,” said Tim as soon as he had lost sight of Famine. “You two, go.”

Julian and Dave made their way to the inn. Tim ducked down a side street and made his way back to the Whore’s Head.

Chapter 24

Julian and Dave sat nervously in their crummy inn room. Dave sat on the rough, wooden floor and leaned back against the wall, chipping off flakes of the pus-yellow paint where his armor made contact. His head kept drooping down, and he repeatedly jerked it back up again, knocking more paint off of the wall with his helmet.

“Stay awake,” said Julian. “We need to be ready for the worst.”

“I don’t think I can,” said Dave. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’m pretty tired, too,” said Julian. “I’m going to set an alarm spell in case we drift off.”

“If an alarm goes off, won’t that just bring attention to us?”

“During the incantation, I can specify who won’t trigger it. You, me, Tim, Cooper, Chaz, Butterbean, and Ravenus. Anything else larger than a bug that tries to get in here will set it off.”

“What if the manager of the inn pops in for something?”

“Okay, good thinking,” said Julian. “I’ll include the inn staff as well. Anyone else who tries to get in here would certainly be one of the Horsemen.”

Julian rummaged through his pouches of spell components until he found a piece of chalk. He whispered incantations and drew boundary lines around the door and window. “There, it’s done.”

Cooper opened the door and walked in. “Hey guys.”

“See?” said Julian. “It works.”

Dave’s only response was a loud snore.

“What works?” asked Cooper.

“I set an alarm to go off if anyone comes in here while we’re sleeping.”

“It’s kind of a shitty alarm. I just walked in, and I didn’t hear anything.”

“You are on the list of people who won’t trip it,” said Julian.

Cooper lay down on the floor. “Cool. Well I’m gonna get some sleep too.”

“Okay.”

Julian sat on the room’s only chair and stared out of the window. The setting sun painted orange clouds on the pink sky. As the sky grew darker, the streetlamps, which he guessed must each contain an object permanently enchanted with a Light spell, began to take over the sun’s job of keeping the city streets lit. After the hustle and bustle of the marketplace died down, Julian scrutinized the few people remaining on the street. None of them looked overly suspicious or threatening… at least not to Julian’s exhausted brain. Before long, he slipped into a trance.

He snapped out of his trance some point less than four hours later to a cacophony of bells, whistles, and horns. It sounded as though a car alarm and an air raid siren were having a heated argument about politics.

Tim stood in the doorway with his hands over his ears. Next to him was a very surprised looking pig, more than twice his size.

“What the fuck?” Tim shouted over the noise. “Make it stop!”

The pig shat on the floor.

“Stop!” said Julian. The alarm stopped instantly. The only sounds were the residual ringing in his ears and a person in the next room over banging on the wall.

“Sorry!” Julian called out at the wall.

“Asshole!” came a voice from the street outside.

“What the hell was that?” asked Tim.

“I set an alarm,” said Julian. “In case anyone tried to get in here.”

“What the hell did you do that for?” asked Tim. “You knew I’d be coming back.”

“I didn’t know you were bringing a giant fucking pig with you, did I?”

“I bought it for Katherine,” said Tim. “She needs to eat.” He walked the pig across the room and picked up the Bag of Holding. The pig grunted. It still looked shaken from the alarm. “Come on, Porky. It’s safe in here.” Tim lifted the lip of the bag and guided the pig inside. As soon as the tip of its curly pink tail passed the lip, the bag collapsed into a seemingly empty heap on the floor.

“Poor little pig,” said Cooper.

“The only thing I asked you to do was to stay here and not do anything,” said Tim. “How could you possibly fuck that up?”

“Sorry,” said Julian. “I just thought –”

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Tim. “We have to get out of here.”

“Ho there!” boomed a voice from the hallway. “There’s people tryin’ to sleep in here!” A large bald man stood in the doorway. It took Julian a second, but he soon recognized him as the guy they had rented the room from. He looked a lot less intimidating now that he was wearing what appeared to be a Snuggie. “What’s the meaning of – Hey, why is there shit on me floor?”

“Um…” said Cooper. “That was me.”

“Nice save, Coop,” said Tim.

“You lot get the hell out of me inn before I knocks ye faces in.”

“We were just leaving,” said Tim.

They hadn’t been out on the street one minute when a whistle broke the night’s recently restored silence. Julian turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of a shadow ducking quickly away into the darker shadows of an alley three blocks up the street.

“Shit,” said Tim. “We’ve been made.”

“What should we do?” asked Dave.

“There’s a light on at Professor Goosewaddle’s shop,” said Julian. “We could ask him if we could crash there until morning.”

“We need this guy on our side,” said Tim. “We’re not going to make a very good impression barging in there in the middle of the night.”

“This way!” called a nasally voice from down the street. “They’re over here.”

“If anyone has any better ideas,” said Dave, “now is the time to speak.”

“Fuck,” said Tim. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Julian was the first to arrive at the door. He jiggled the handle, but the door was locked. He knocked rapidly on the door while the rest of the party caught up.

“Keep yer britches on,” said a sleepy voice on the other side of the door. “I’m coming.”

When the door finally creaked open, the recorded message began. “Welcome to Professor Goosewaddle’s Potions and –”

The professor clapped his hands and the message stopped. “Oh, it’s you. Do you lads have any idea what time it is?”

“Um… no,” said Cooper.

“We’re sorry, professor,” said Julian. “We saw the light on and thought you were awake.”

“Some jackass down the street set off an Alarm spell,” said the professor. “Don’t suppose I’ll be getting any more sleep tonight. Come on in.”

The party crowded inside as quickly as they could without actually stampeding over the little gnome. Cooper slammed the door shut behind them.

“Something troubling you lads?” asked the professor.

There was no point in lying. Julian came clean. “There’s a group of guys out there trying to murder us.”

“Well,” said Professor Goosewaddle. “Thank you so much for bringing them to my shop.” He looked annoyed, which Julian assessed was about the best they could have hoped for. Angry would have been bad, and afraid would have been catastrophic.

“Calm yourselves, gentlemen. No one enters Professor Goosewaddle’s Potions and Scrolls Emporium against the will of Professor Goosewaddle.” The professor sprinkled a line of sparkly purple powder on the floor in front of the doorway and muttered to himself. When he was finished muttering, the powder turned into a bright pink liquid and crept up through the the cracks between the door and the frame, until the whole thing was sealed.

The handle wiggled a little, but the door didn’t budge.

“Come out, you cowards!” It was Eric, the guy who called himself Pestilence. “We know you’re in there!”

“Fuck off, Eric,” said Tim.

“How long do you think you can hide in there?” said Eric, continuing to pound on the door. “If you send out the half-orc, we’ll call it even.”

Cooper shook his head. “It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?”

“Come on, half-orc,” Eric called out with taunting mirth in his voice. “If you suck my cock, I might just let you live.” His friends snickered.

“No thanks,” said Cooper. “Your mom’s cock tasted like ham. It was unsettling. Put me right off cocks for good.”

“Julian,” said Tim. “Do you see any way we can resolve this diplomatically?”

“They want to murder us,” said Julian. “And Cooper just told a dude his mom’s cock tastes like ham. I think we’re beyond my skill level in Diplomacy.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Tim. He took the Bag of Holding from Cooper and scurried up the little spiral staircase.

Julian looked though the peephole of the door. Eric was standing right there, looking furious. Two other figures stood behind him. One wore loose green robes, suitable for the gestures a wizard or sorcerer would have to make while casting spells. That must be War. The other was clad in a simple black cloak. The hood cast a shadow over his face. Death, no doubt. He was even carrying a scythe. A walking cliché. Julian supposed he ought to be scared, but he couldn’t help seeing these guys as trick-or-treaters.

“All the puke!” Tim shouted from upstairs. A torrent of vomit rained down on Eric’s head. War and Death stepped back and looked up. They were spared all but a few specks that splashed on their clothes.

Eric stopped beating on the door. He brushed a glob of it off of his shoulder and shook a fist up in the air. “Why you little –”

“Pig!” shouted Tim. A second later, Eric covered his face with his forearms as an emaciated dead pig landed on him. Katherine had really gone to town on it. Julian didn’t think there could be a drop of blood left in it.

Eric lay in a pool of vomit under the mutilated corpse of a giant pig. As soon as the shock and horror of that wore off, he pushed the pig off of him and scrambled backward. War and Death helped him to his feet.

War began muttering to himself, and his hands burst into flames. He brought his hands together, and the flames coalesced into a sphere of fire.

“Tim!” cried Julian. “Watch out!” But it was too late. Julian shielded his eyes from the fiery white explosion which engulfed his tiny field of vision.

“Shit!” said Julian. “They Fireballed Tim!”

Cooper ran to the stairwell, but Tim was already on his way down. Nothing was visibly wrong with him, except that he looked a little shaken and his right hand was covered in vomit.

“Do any of you guys have a towel?” asked Tim.

“Dammit, Scott!” came Eric’s voice from outside.

“Call me War,” said War.

“Dammit, War!”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I guess the place is protected against magic.”

Julian looked through the peephole. Eric had removed his helmet. His face was covered in soot. War’s robes were singed at the edges, and Death lay on the ground with his cloak still on fire.

War and Pestilence were doing their best to pat out the flames. Famine was still conspicuously absent.

“They look really pissed off,” said Julian.

“Well,” said Cooper. “Maybe it’s about time they were pissed
on
.” He started up the stairs.

“Wait, Cooper!” said Julian. “Don’t!”

By the time Julian made it up the stairs, Cooper was already standing at the window with his dick out.

“Hey fuckers!” Cooper called down. “Allow me to assist you.” And so the stream started. It was a strong, dark yellow stream. It steamed in the cool night air.

“Yeau—” Eric started to protest, and Julian had no doubt he was cut off by a jet of half-orc piss to the face.

“Get him!” shouted Eric, presumably having moved out of the line of fire.

Julian wondered who he was talking to, but his curiosity was satisfied an instant later when a pale skeletal face peeked up over the window sill.

“Ha!” cried Famine, shoving a curved dagger into Cooper’s belly.

“Ow!” said Cooper, quickly adjusting the position of his dick.

Maybe Famine had believed the element of surprise was going to allow him to wound Cooper enough such that he would be unable to piss in his face. Maybe he thought Cooper would retreat, or try to fight him, instead of pissing in his face. Maybe he had just mentally braced himself for getting a face full of piss, and thought he could take it… maybe get a few more stabs in. Whatever his logic, it failed him. His gloved hand lost its grip on the stone wall. His gurgling scream was interrupted by his chin hitting the window sill, and he fell out of sight onto the street below.

Cooper turned around and pulled the blade out of his belly. He barely winced. He held it up to show Julian. “Free knife.”

Julian ran to the window. Eric was walking away, carrying Death in his arms. War supported Famine, who had apparently sustained an injury to his ankle.

Eric turned around and looked up at Julian. “Wish your friend good luck for me,” he said. He flashed an evil grin, turned back around, and continued to retreat.

Julian turned to Cooper. “He said ‘Good luck’.”

“That’s awfully sporting of him,” said Cooper.

“Come on,” said Julian. “Let’s get out of here.”

When he got down the stairs, Tim was already in business negotiations with Professor Goosewaddle, each of them standing on a stack of boxes on either side of the front counter.