Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2) Page 7

“You have a gift, my friend,” said Frank.

  “Huh?”

  “A certain knack for saying just the right thing to push a man beyond the threshold of good judgment.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “I damn well should be,” said Frank. “That big mouth of yours could have gotten one or more of us killed.”

  Cooper hung his head. “Sorry.”

  “It could have,” Frank continued. “But it didn’t. Instead, you inspired courage. You made us realize that together we are stronger than they are.”

  “But you said you already knew that.”

  “We knew it on a superficial level, but that’s not the same as knowing it knowing it. You catch my meaning?”

  “No.”

  “You made that little prick back down,” said Frank. “He’s not going to bother us again for quite some time.”

  Cooper wasn’t accustomed to praise, and it felt a little uncomfortable. He could feel the blood rushing to his big leathery cheeks. “It was nothing.”

  Frank gave Cooper a friendly slap on the cheek. “You’re all right.” The little gnome stepped back to the center of his table and clapped his hands above his head. “Nothing’s changed here,” he said. “All of you go about your business. Go make some coin.”

  “What about the Horsemen?” asked a nearby dwarf.

  “Horsemen,” Frank spat out the word as if it was a lump of shit in his mouth. “Eric’s just run off to find some hole to cry in. You’ve got nothing to fear from the Horsemen. Just keep your guard up, try to blend in, and watch one another’s backs. You’ll be okay.”

  And that was that. Everyone grabbed what supplies they required for the day’s work ahead, and exited the Inn.

  “Hey listen, Frank,” said Tim when most of the crowd had gone. “About the –”

  “Don’t even say it,” said Frank. “I know you’ve got to go look for your sister. Take your elf friend with you, and I’ll throw in a couple of guys to snoop around for information.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But I’m going to need the healer and the big bastard for another assignment.”

  “Fuck that,” said Cooper. “I’m going to help Tim.”

  “We’ll be okay,” said Tim. “You go do whatever it is Frank needs you to do. We need brains right now more than brawn.”

  Cooper pursed his lips.

  Julian slapped Tim lightly on the arm. “Hey.”

  “What?” said Tim. “Oh shit. I’m sorry Cooper. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not thinking straight. I’m worried about Katherine.”

  “I know,” said Cooper. “We’re all worried. Go find her. I’ll go with Frank.”

  “All right, Tim,” said Frank. “You’ve got yourself, the elf, a talking bird, and your sister’s wolf. I’m sending Gorgonzola and Tony the Elf with you as well. They’ll be able to help you out with finding information. Bring some of your sister’s shit with you, too. See if you can get that big wolf of hers to pick up her scent.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Tim. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Go on. Get moving.”

  “Good luck!” Dave called out as Tim’s search party left the tavern.

  “Stuart,” said Frank. The bald guy with the hot wife stood at attention. “I need you to take the dwarf and the big guy out on werewolf duty.”

  “What?” said Stuart and Cooper simultaneously.

  “Look,” said Frank. “I know you two aren’t the best of friends right now, but we need to do this. Think of it as a team building exercise. You and he have the fastest feet of anyone here.”

  “I’m not fast at all,” said Dave.

  “I’d guessed as much,” said Frank. “But there’s a good chance they’ll need some healing. That’s where you come in.”

  “Listen, Frank,” said Cooper. “I know I look like a big bad motherfucker. But I’m still only a second level barbarian. Dave’s only a second level cleric. And Stuart’s…” Cooper noticed that Stuart was still unarmed and wearing his pajamas. “What the fuck are you, Stuart?”

  “I’m a fourth level monk.”

  Cooper laughed out loud. “A monk? Who plays a monk?”

  “It’s not as bad a class as people make it out to be if you know how to play it right.”

  “You guys play nice together,” said Frank. “Keep in mind what we’re working for. A chance, however small, to go home. Now get going.”

  “Come on,” Stuart said bitterly. “Let’s get suited up.”

  Chapter 10

  Tim stood in the alley next to the Piss Bucket Tavern. He had Butterbean’s head nearly all the way inside Katherine’s backpack.

  “Are you sure you’re doing that right?” asked Julian.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

  “This is a waste of time,” said Tony the Elf. “That’s her animal companion, right? If he had any idea where she was, we wouldn’t be able to hold him back from going after her.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?”

  Tony the Elf shook his head.

  Tim turned to the gnome. “What about you, Gorgonzola? Didn’t Frank send you with us because you have the Gather Information skill? Why don’t you go gather some information?”

  “What am I supposed to do?” asked Gorgonzola. “Ask random people on the street if they’ve seen that guy’s sister? I need something to work with. How’s she holding up?”

  Tim unrolled Katherine’s character sheet. “She’s still at full hit points. Wherever she is, she must be okay.”

  “Has anything on the sheet changed?”

  “No,” said Tim impatiently. “Her hit points are the same. Her experience points are the same. We’ve got all her shit with us, so her inventory is… hang on a second. What’s this?”

  Julian, Tony the Elf, and Gorgonzola crowded around Tim. The space on the back of the character sheet reserved for inventory was blank except for one entry that said “giant pumpkin.”

  “That’s strange,” said Julian.

  “I was pretty drunk last night, but I think I’d remember if Katherine was walking around with a giant pumpkin. This must be something she’s acquired since she went missing.”

  Gorgonzola smiled. “That’s something I can work with. Give me a few minutes.” He scurried out of the alley and into the crowded market.

  “How’s this going to help?” asked Julian.

  “You’d be surprised what Gorgonzola can do with a tiny scrap of information,” said Tony the Elf. “Anyone can ask questions. You don’t take six ranks in the Gather Information skill just to be able to ask questions. He can take seemingly innocuous bits of random data and make connections and assessments that you or I wouldn’t even think of.”

  “Like a detective?” said Julian.

  “Yeah,” said Tony the Elf. “but more than that. He’s like Sherlock Holmes, Dr. House, and Rainman combined.”

  “That’s pretty cool.”

  Tim put his hand on his thigh and felt nothing. The instinct to grab his cell phone to check the time was still strong with him. Frustrated, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “We’ll see how cool it is when he –”

  “Hey guys!” shouted Gorgonzola, scampering out of the crowded street.

  “What did you find out?” asked Tony the Elf.

  Gorgonzola took a minute to catch his breath before speaking. “Elmore the Butcher’s wife caught a case of the clap from Harry the Tanner’s eldest son. Three of Rostand the Baker’s seven children have conspicuously blue eyes and blond hair, much like Stanford P. Ames, the smithy who was found dead in his kitchen with forty-seven stab wounds in his back. Police called it a suicide, but there are rumors. Stanley the Mason has five testicles, and three of them are –”

  “Did you find out anything about my sister?” Tim asked.

  “Oh yeah,” said Gorgonzola. “Sorry.” He pulled a scrap of paper out from under his vest. “I’ve got an address.”

 
Tim wrapped an arm around Butterbean’s neck and gave him a squeeze. “Un-fucking-believable.”

  “It’s a bit of a hike,” said Gorgonzola. “On the other side of town, in the Garden District.”

  Tony the Elf raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Posh.”

  “What’s that?” asked Tim.

  “We’re headed to a very rich neighborhood. Looks like your sister might have snagged herself a sugar daddy.”

  Flashes of purple ran through Tim’s hazy memory of the previous night. “I think I remember something like that,” said Tim. “I think she was getting chatted up at the bar by some fancy-pants-looking guy. Do you remember, Julian?”

  “I was asleep.”

  “What an inconsiderate bitch,” said Tim. “It’s just like her to go running off with some guy and not giving a shit that people might worry about her.”

  “Hold off before making any judgments,” said Gorgonzola. “All I’ve got here is the address of a gardening enthusiast who grows giant pumpkins as a hobby. It’s a lead we can work with, but it’s no guarantee she’s there.”

  Tony the Elf took the lead, weaving through the crowded city streets at a demanding pace. Tim was self-conscious at first, wanting to keep as low a profile as possible for a group consisting of two elves, a gnome, a halfling, a raven, a sheepdog, and a wolf. The more he took in his surroundings, the less self-conscious he became. No one could complain of Cardinia’s lack of cultural diversity. A creature with tentacles growing out of its face bumped shoulders with a satyr, drawing not so much as a curious glance from either of them. A lizard man argued with a bugbear over the price of flour, and no one looked twice at them. The only reaction the crowd gave to anything was to part for a procession of four human soldiers dragging a manacled two-headed giant behind them. The prisoner had to be at least thirteen feet tall. Its two heads growled and snarled at the crowd, who seemed less frightened of the beast, and more put off by its smell. Its whole body was covered in a thick, crusty layer of mud and shit. It made Cooper seem fit to perform surgery by comparison.

  As the soldiers dragged the prisoner by Tim’s group, the smell wafted over Tim like a sewage truck had just spilled its load. One head met Tim’s gaze. It turned to the other head, and they both looked at him together.

  “Hragh!” they said in unison. Tim yelped and jumped back. The giant’s two heads had a good laugh about that. So did two of the soldiers.

  “That there’s what you call an Ettin,” said a tiny, green humanoid hovering above Tim’s head. It flapped its leathery wings and offered Tim an uncomfortably friendly grin before continuing. “If you’d like to get a new jacket made, I happen to know the best tailor in all of Cardinia. His prices are most reasona—” A crust of bread bounced off of the creature’s face.

  “Fuck off, demon!” said Tony the Elf. “He’s not interested.”

  The demon hissed at Tony the Elf and flew off with the bread.

  “Will you stop gawking like such a goddamned tourist?” Tony the Elf said to Tim.

  “But I –”

  “Low profile, remember?”

  The crowds thinned out as they moved away from the city proper. The only other time there was a notable increase in the density of people was when Tony led them through the gate of a ten-foot high stone wall. Bored guards leaned on their spears, not even bothering to look at who entered or left the city.

  “Shouldn’t they be scrutinizing people a bit more?” Julian asked Tony the Elf once they had shouldered their way past a group of hobgoblins. “I mean, check people’s papers or something?”

  “The kingdom has been at peace for over a hundred and fifty years,” said Tony the Elf. Cardinia is not only the capital, but it’s a major trading hub. People are free to come and go as they please, so long as they don’t cause trouble.”

  “Why are we leaving?” asked Tim. “Didn’t you say this pumpkin guy was in a posh part of the city?”

  “The borders of Cardinia extend beyond the city walls,” said Gorgonzola. “All the way to the Bluerun River. For enough money, you can have the prestige of being able to call yourself Cardinian, but not have to deal with the smells and noise and whatnot.”

  They crossed over a meadow until they came to a little country path. Judging by the number of dandelions growing out of it, Tim guessed that this was not a well-traveled road. On the side they had come from, there was nothing but meadow all the way to the city wall. On the other side, however, was a virtual wall of vegetation. Trees, hedgerows, vine-covered brick walls. It occurred to Tim that they were walking past pieces of private property.

  “This is it,” said Gorgonzola, stopping in front of a four-foot tall hedgerow and tucking the scrap of paper into his vest. The hedgerow was interrupted in the middle by a white lattice archway, grown over tastefully with flowering vines. The scents of roses and honeysuckle were intoxicating. Beyond the archway was a meticulously kept lawn and a charming little country cottage.

  This place is lovely,” said Tim. “I almost can’t blame her for wanting to stay here.”

  Butterbean must have thought differently. He sniffed the air and started to growl. It was low and menacing.

  “Take it easy boy,” said Tim, rubbing down the fur that had begun to stand up on the back of Butterbean’s neck. “Everything is okay.” Butterbean barked.

  “Can you calm that wolf down?” said Gorgonzola. “We’re not going to be very welcome here with an angry wolf.”

  “Butterbean!” Tim snapped. “Shut up!” He got on one knee to be face-to-face with the wolf and stroked its fur. “We’re here to find Katherine.” Butterbean whimpered and lowered his head.

  Tim walked through the archway, taking in a greedy breath of the fresh air. It was like walking into a fabric softener commercial. The others followed.

  The lawn was dotted here and there with large elm trees and abstract toparies. A gardener was clipping away at the hedge closest to Tim.

  “Excuse me,” said Tim. The gardener turned around. His face was rotten. The skin above his upper lip was torn and hanging off of his face. His hands were little more than bones with dry-rotted gloves of former skin. The one remaining eye in its head was huge and round, due to the lid having rotted away. It stared down at Tim, hedge clippers in hand.

  “Jesus!” shouted Tim, backing up into Tony the Elf. Butterbean jumped forward and ripped one of the thing’s arms right off.

  “Magic Missile,” said Julian, thrusting his hands forward. A sparkling bolt of light shot out of his hands and hit the creature square in the chest. It reeled backwards. Before anyone else could make a move, a shaft of wood sprouted out of the tree Julian was standing next to, right above his head. Everyone froze except for Butterbean, who continued to tear at the arm he had taken.

  “The hell you think yer doin’ to my gardener?” Everyone turned their heads to the porch. Tim kept one wary eye on ‘the gardener’. An aged man stood with the assistance of a cane. In his other hand he held a large crossbow.

  “Butterbean,” Tim said sharply. “Put that down. Get over here.” Butterbean let go of the arm and lay on the grass next to Tim, but continued growling at the zombie.

  “The gods damn you all!” shouted the man as he hobbled down the steps towards them. “Do you know how hard it is to find a zombie that can trim hedges? I only just got that one last night.”

  The zombie attempted to continue working, but with only one arm it was effectively just beating the hedge with the clippers.

  The old man sighed. “Pah! He’s useless now. Go on, you. Get out back and start diggin’ a hole.” The zombie started walking toward the back yard. “Put down the clippers and pick up your arm, you stupid son of a bitch.” Butterbean stood up and barked as it walked off.

  “Butterbean, hush,” said Tim.

  “The hell’s wrong with yer dog?”

  “I don’t know. I guess maybe he doesn’t like zombies.”

  “Well you mind he don’t go botherin’ no more of the help. They don’t com
e cheap.”

  “You have more?” Tim looked around and spotted two more zombies on the vast green lawn. One was raking leaves and the other was pouring water from a can along the base of the hedgerow.

  “Just what sort of business compelled you fellers to interrupt the tranquility of my afternoon?”

  “Julian, could you talk to him? You’ve got better Charisma than me.”

  The old man furrowed his brow. “It’s big of you to recognize your shortcomings, son, but what a queer thing to say.”

  “We’re, um…” said Tim. “We’re just friends.”

  “We heard you grow pumpkins,” said Julian.

  The old man’s face lit up. “You heard right, boy. Come on round back and have a look.” He started off in the direction the zombie had gone.

  Tim, Tony the Elf, and Gorgonzola looked at Julian.

  “Diplomacy,” said Julian. The others nodded and followed the old man.

  “The name’s Simon Peppercorn,” said the old man as he hobbled along.

  “You have a lovely home, Mr. Peppercorn,” said Julian.

  “Please, folks round here call me Pep.”

  “I’m Julian. These are my friends. Tim, Tony the Elf, and Gorgonzola.”

  “That’s nice,” said Pep without turning around to see any of them.

  Around the side of the house, they passed another zombie. This one was picking red berries from the hedge and putting them into a wicker basket. Tim held his arm firmly around Butterbean’s neck as they walked, but the wolf didn’t even seem to notice the zombie.

  Nearing the back of the house, Tim could make out giant orange spheres in a sea of tangled vines. Beyond the vast pumpkin patch, the land was forested with pines. Birds chirped noisily in the trees, and Tim heard the trickle of a stream somewhere off in the distance. He could see himself retiring in a place like this, settling down with a couple of acres on Bay St. Louis. He’d have to sell a lot of chicken, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

  Tim’s daydream was broken by a howl in the woods, followed by an explosion of black birds fleeing the trees.

  “Aw hell,” said Pep. He hobbled hurriedly up the steps of a large wooden deck attached to the back of the house. It had a set of patio furniture made of unfinished wood. He set his crossbow on the table and produced a larger one from a massive wooden chest. This one could almost be considered a siege weapon, and it even had a scope.