Epic (27 page)

Erik considered this. “Very well. Tell me about this character and his equipment and I will judge the value of the information. If I think that it will save our lives, I will give you ten thousand bezants.”

“And if you don’t?” replied Svein cagily.

“I will give you less.”

“I am confident you will appreciate the worth of what I am about to say.”

Erik nodded that Svein should continue.

“Between them, Central Allocations control the Executioner. He is a human male, garbed in rune-carved dwarven plate.” Svein glanced up to check that Erik appreciated the value of such armor. “He has the Longbow of the Falling Stars for assassination from a distance. The full range of magic and poisonous arrows, of course. Indeed, it also goes without saying that he has all the potions and balms money can buy. For combat he uses either Acutus, a longsword whose magic blade is so sharp that in every twenty blows there will be one that will cut through any material—any!—or he wields the Bastard Sword of the Moon, a weapon that emits ‘fear,’ such that its opponents slow or freeze entirely. And this is all very well. But the real secret of his invulnerability is that he owns the Golden Shield of Al’Karak.”

At this, Svein halted to take a sip of mead. “Have you ever heard of the shield?”

“No.” Erik had to admit it was a new item to him.

“Of the Al’Karak?”

“Are they dervishes in the South somewhere?”

“Yes.” Svein nodded appreciatively. “Not many people would know that. And no one had met them until I journeyed there, in search of information for the Epicus Ultima. While I was there, I found out about the shield, which was then owned by their Prince. It has a demon imprisoned inside it, whose unique property is that it thrives upon magic, absorbing it and sending its energy through the body of the wielder of the shield. Central Allocations authorized me to offer a million bezants for it, and the Prince agreed to sell it. Do you understand why we spent such a fortune on one item?”

“It makes him immune to magic?” Erik asked.

“Exactly.”

Erik whistled. “Tricky.”

“Very. No one person could hope to win a combat with him. While you are hitting him with nonmagical weapons, and perhaps causing a little damage with each blow, he is striking you with Acutus, and will split you in half long before you even begin to hurt him. Your only hope is to overwhelm him with numbers, those that die being quickly replaced by others. A hundred could perhaps manage it.”

This was disheartening news, and Erik rested his chin in his hands, deep in thought. He was wondering whether they could somehow avoid meeting this Executioner by staying in Cassinopia when Svein broke in on his musings.

“Well?”

“What?” asked Erik.

“Is this information worth ten thousand bezants?”

Erik nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Chapter 26

THE KING OF THE MERMEN

“Erik, Erik! Wake
up and clip up!”

He was torn from a dream in which he had yet to solve the problem of where to camp his army. Injeborg was in his bedroom, face aglow with excitement.

“I have to go and get Sigrid and get back into Epic myself. See you there.”

Still groggy, wondering if he could station his troops in the houses of the people of Hope, Erik woke up enough to feel a slight sense of embarrassment over the appallingly disorganized state of his bedroom.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s Bjorn. He’s rescuing us. Get in there now!” She ran clattering down the wooden stairs.

Rescue. If any word was likely to get him out of bed in a hurry, it was that. Throwing on his trousers and tunic, Erik hurried, barefoot, to their station. He was about to clip up, when he heard movements downstairs, and remembered his visitor.

“I have to go into Epic for a while,” Erik shouted down. “Help yourself to anything you need.”

“Thank you,” a rather hoarse-sounding Svein replied. “Good luck.”

A thunderous crash of sound accompanied by the prismatic spraying of all the colors of the rainbow.

He was Cindella again, captive in Duke Raymond’s ship. Despite his rising hopes, nothing had changed. They were still in the same dingy room, with the flickering oil lamp swinging back and forth to the irregular motion of the ship.

“Morning.” Anonemuss was the only other character present and spoke to him while he gathered his bearings. “What’s happening? Good news?”

“I’ve no idea.” #shrug. Except that Cindella’s binding did not permit it. “Injeborg woke me up and told me to get in here. She said Bjorn was rescuing us.”

“Ahh. She materialized here a little while ago and told me to wait while she got everyone.” The dark elf sounded uncharacteristically cheerful. “I wonder what the plan is.”

“Me too. At least it’s daytime; the vampyre won’t be around,” Cindella observed, sharing the optimism of her companion.

A moment later, Sigrid’s healer materialized, lying bound on the floor. They watched her as she rolled around for some time before successfully managing to sit up.

“Well, we might not be ruined after all.” The gray polygons of her face looked as radiant as Erik had ever seen them.

“What did Inny say to you?” he asked her.

“Only that I needed to clip up now. That Bjorn was rescuing us. Then she ran home as fast as she could.”

The cabin door opened. Duke Raymond, with several tattooed and vicious-looking crew members behind him, glowered at them from the entrance of the room.

“You have powerful allies. I don’t know how you contacted them, but I dare not make an enemy of the King of the Mermen.” He snarled with fury, and spat onto the wooden floor. “Bring them on deck!” he ordered the pirates.

Cindella was lifted to her feet and propelled towards the door. Just as she was made to run up a gangway, she noticed Injeborg’s witch materialize in the cabin. Cindella turned her head to call out to her but was cuffed and forced onwards.

On deck, the early-morning light was bright, momentarily dazzling Erik until his eyes adjusted. They were brought to the rail of the ship and from there Erik surveyed an extraordinary sight.

The sea was in constant motion. All the way to the horizon creatures were circling the ship, so that it seemed as though it floated in the center of a giant whirlpool. Curving streams of white foam trailed behind the strangest assortment of sea monsters that Erik had ever seen. A dozen enormous octopi had been harnessed to coral-encrusted chariots, each containing several mermen and mermaids. Around these giant and elaborately fashioned craft individual merwarriors darted on swift seahorses, the necks of their steeds curving proudly. Each warrior clasped a glittering trident in one hand and the reins of their surging mount in the other.

Giant turtles beat a steady circuit of the ship, small castles of translucent seashells built upon their backs, proud turquoise flags rising above the shimmering crenelations.

The largest of these was a monstrous turtle, the turrets of whose castle soared into the sky far taller than the masts of the ship, every beat of its powerful fins sending strong eddies sucking and swirling through the water around it.

On this behemoth was gathered a host of gold and silver warriors and at their center a majestic, bearded man who was clearly their ruler. Standing next to the king, waving to them, was Bjorn, his solid gray structure standing out from the scintillating greens, blues and pearly tones all about him. Several mermaids swam across to the ship. Laughing, they spread out a net and beckoned.

“Set them free,” muttered Duke Raymond glumly.

Her ropes cut, Cindella skipped delightedly onto the rail of the ship, poised ready to leap. A bundle of equipment that Erik recognized as Cindella’s was thrown down into the net below.

“You escape me this time,” growled the pirate leader. “But we will meet again, and your treasure will be mine!”

“Never!” Cindella replied jauntily. With a skip and a mocking wave farewell, she jumped out. Crashing beneath the waves, she was quickly rushed up to the surface by the net that surrounded her, and not only her. Tangling among Cindella’s limbs was another character, Harald! Erik’s dad had jumped into the water alongside Cindella. Giddy with laughter, Cindella clung on to Harald’s character as they were pulled swiftly through the sea.

Before long, all of the characters were escorted towards the king of the merpeople, dripping seawater as they walked up the barnacle-encrusted slopes of the monstrous turtle. The smiling mermaids had transformed as they left the water, to walk beside them through the ranks of golden warriors.

“Allow me to introduce Anonemuss, Harald Goldenhair, Cindella the Swashbuckler, Injeborg the Witch, and Sigrid the Healer.” Bjorn gestured towards his friends. “And this is Aquirion, King of the merpeople.”

“We are obliged,” Cindella said as she bowed.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” added Injeborg.

“You are most welcome, friends of Bjorn Seawalker.”

The king was tall, his white wavy hair merging with a flowing beard, which was braided with colorful strands of blue and gold thread. “And now that we have freed you from captivity, can we entertain you? Or is there a destination that you wish to be taken to?”

“We wish to be taken to the Skull Islands, and then to Cassinopia.” Erik was swift in his answer. Bjorn looked as taken aback as an assembly of gray polygons could.

“I’ll tell you after,” Erik added more quietly, with an urgent look towards his friend, who simply shrugged.

“Very well.” The king turned to issue orders, and soon the banners were being waved that sent the message throughout the army. Slowly, with methodical strokes of its enormous fins, the giant turtle turned towards the west. The enormous flotilla of sea creatures followed, leaving a desolate-looking pirate ship marooned in their wake.

“I’ve got to unclip,” Bjorn whispered. “I’ve been up all night. Let me get some sleep, and have Injeborg wake me when we reach the island.”

“Oh, Bjorn, that’s a shame. I wanted you to tell us all about these merpeople,” Sigrid exclaimed.

“As did I,” agreed Harald.

“Later, later. I really have to have a break.”

“Later then, Bjorn. And thanks. Well done.”

For the four remaining characters, there then followed one of the most exhilarating experiences they had ever tasted in the game of Epic. The turtle beat its path through the waves of a perfect day. A light breeze played over them, from a cloudless azure sky. Stretching away to either side were the lines of mermen and mermaids in their chariots or mounted on their steeds—each one a creature of beauty from their flowing tresses to their gem-encrusted, worked-coral armor.

Cindella took the hand of Injeborg’s witch. “Isn’t this wonderful? I feel amazing. I feel free.”

“Yes, it is,” she replied. “Who would have thought the game contained scenes such as this?”

“I wonder how much more we miss from only venturing a few miles from the cities?”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the game didn’t matter, other than to play in? We could explore snowy mountains, spectacular caverns, and remote desert civilizations. To journey just for the pleasure of the adventures would be something . . .” She paused. “Only now do I understand why this game was invented.”

They passed the journey with very few comments, only an occasional glance to convey their pleasure, such as they exchanged when a school of dolphins rose from the water to salute the passing of the king. The sun gradually rose behind them and the shadow of the giant turtle receded, until, just as midday passed, a distant gathering of clouds indicated the appearance of the islands on the horizon.

“Better go fetch Bjorn. We won’t be long at this speed.”

“Ya. I’ll be right back.” Injeborg froze for a moment or two before dematerializing.

They had traveled much closer to the islands by the time of her return, and swaying palms were clearly visible at the foot of craggy volcanic mountains.

“Poor Bjorn. He was deep asleep,” she said, smiling.

Glancing over his shoulder, Erik saw his sturdy friend had entered the world, and waved to him happily. A little distance away from King Aquirion and his court, the six players gathered together.

“So.” Anonemuss gestured expansively. “How did all this come to pass?”

“Well, I was walking along the floor of the sea for a long, long time. Perhaps a couple of days altogether. I felt that I was on a slope, going upwards, which seemed to me to be a positive thing. Also, the water was becoming a little less dim.”

At home, Erik smiled to himself. Bjorn and Injeborg were so unalike; whereas his sister would have rushed ahead to the important part of the story, it was typical of Bjorn to be so methodical. Everyone would just have to listen patiently.

“Then I noticed a strange thing. The seaweeds and the fronds seemed to be growing in rows, with paths between them, like they were cultivated. So I made my way along one of these rows, and the water grew a little lighter still. Then I felt I could sense a brighter light in the distance. Like the night sky, before dawn comes, but when you can tell it is not going to be long—a gray that you can make out at the edge of your sight. So I followed it. Then, all of a sudden, I reached the top of a rise, and there in the distance were the lights of a city! On the seabed, but otherwise exactly like Newhaven looks at night—bright torches in the tower windows, lines of lights showing the streets. So I had to decide whether I should approach it or not. I thought of waking you both to discuss it, but it was the middle of the night, and after all, what real choice did I have?

“I found a road that led to the city and began to follow it, when a merman warrior on a horse saw me. He swam away, and I began to feel a little nervous. Especially when many more came back. I hailed them, but they didn’t reply; they just herded me towards the city.