18 - Don't Die and Other Rousing Speeches

  Ye Olde Dead Basket Weaver’s Shoppe, Two Days After Festival

  The excitement of the last day must have helped Jonathan go to bed without a fuss and sleep most of the night. It was still daylight when the group passed out from exhaustion. Despite the murdered proprietor, they hadn't any other options but to bed down in the shop. Jonathan had been getting cranky, and if the kid hadn't gotten to sleep soon, there would be far worse things to deal with than the Tradalorians on their tail.

  They had put a 'Closed' sign out in front, and Annelise had used the corpse to put a ward on the door just in case. By the time they had gotten enough hay for their bedding, the entire group was out for the count. They had elected to sleep on the floor of the shop rather than the cramped loft. Petra was the only one who couldn't sleep and somehow didn't seem to need it as much. It was probably because ever since she had become a mom, a good night's sleep had seemed like a distant memory.

  It seemed like the moment sleep finally overtook her, she was thrust awake again. At first, she thought it was Jonathan and was convinced that she had heard him wailing about his orange kitty or asking to be wrapped up, his version of being tucked in at night. Petra knew that once the novelty of his new body and this place wore off, there would be hell to pay over the missing kitty and blankies.

  There was a pounding at the door, and she realized that it wasn't her son that had awakened her but shouting and thumping. Daylight flooded in the cracks of the door, and she remembered it being dark outside when she finally drifted off. Between the thuds, she heard a voice, "By order of the King's men and the crown of Traldalor, you must open this door!"

  Petra snapped up. The thumps increased in intensity, and Petra could see the door tremble. Without Annelise's magic, the soldiers would no doubt have been able to kick it in. However, it didn't seem the spell would last very long.

  She turned to Annelise, who was already heading towards the corner of the room where they had covered the dead body with reeds and basket weaving supplies. "Hold up," Petra said. "They aren't looking for you. Maybe you should answer. Distract them while we look for a back door. If you kill them, more will come."

  Annelise seemed to consider her words and said, "Let me get some blood. Just in case I need to cast a spell."

  "I thought you said it was the moon that gave you your power," Petra said, confused.

  "Yes, but...I have this necklace." Annelise pulled a piece of carved wood from her blouse that was hanging from her neck with leather straps. "It stores the moon's powers but requires blood to activate."

  "So why do you need it at night?"

  "It amplifies the magic. Truth be told, I am new to the spellcasting profession. As a neophyte, I need something to boost my abilities, unlike your friends who are in the bodies of potent magic users. I would happily use my own blood, but I'm afraid I wouldn't have any left with the amount of spellcasting I've been doing. Now, please let me gather some before they break down the door."

  It was too late. A green light flashed as the spell was broken, and three mean-looking men burst into the room. The party jumped from their beds in various stages of sleep. The guards were decked out in chain armor with orange tunics featuring a wolf.

  "It's the rangers," Annelise said, and her dagger began to glow green as she cut into her arm and hummed.

  One of the men, holding a glinting sword, said, "It's the Silent Legion, but who's that?"

  "Her?" Petra said. "That's Annelise! I suggest you back away before she turns you into a pile of bones."

  "No, no," the man said. "That man. With the glasses. It looks like Lovantus."

  Jonathan had awoken and tried to put a basket on Tim's head while cackling with glee. Her son had grown quite attached to the Clark Kent glasses and had insisted that he sleep with them on last night. Petra hadn't put up too much of a fight because she had wanted him to go to sleep, so she had acquiesced to his demand. Miraculously, they survived, and he was still wearing them.

  "That can't be," another one of the guards said. "Lovantus doesn't wear glasses."

  "Yeah," a third chimed in, "You don't see many barbarians with glasses, do you? Makes it hard to swing a battle axe."

  The first guy said. "But the rest of the party is here. How can that not be Lovantus?"

  "If it makes you feel any better," the second one said, "we can torture them all to figure out where they are hiding Lovantus. Maybe the bloke with the glasses will know. Oy, you there. Have you seen a man about your height and build? Carries a battle axe a lot like yours?"

  Petra was confused at first, but the realization hit her. The Clark Kent glasses were still functioning, even though Annelise had said the power of the glasses would fade.

  "Everyone!" Petra yelled. "Put on your glasses."

  She rummaged through a belt pouch for her pair.

  "Why?" Jack said.

  "Do it!" she barked and found hers. She put them on, and the others did the same. The expression on the faces of the rangers changed from grim determination to confusion.

  They looked over the crowd, and as if coming out of a haze, the first one said, "Any of you seen the Silent Legion about? I could have sworn they were just here."

  "Nope," Petra said. "Just the Basket Weavers Guild, having our annual convention."

  Annelise's dagger lost its green glow, and she stowed it away. The man inspected each person's face in turn and said, "It's uncanny. You really resemble the Silent Legion, but I suppose if they are not here, we'll be on our way."

  "Who's going to fix our door?!" Tim exclaimed. Petra smacked him, and he added, "What? I'm just trying to add some authenticity to the role."

  "You're lucky we don't fine you!" the guard said. "There's no bill with rights or anything protecting you when the nobles' elite soldiers rifle through your things whenever we come knocking."

  "If you say something bad about Sir Grey, we cut out your tongue!" another said.

  "Yeah, we can sleep in the lady of the house's bed if we want to!" the third said.

  The first one put his arm out in front of the third and said, "Alright, that's a little weird, Matias. Come on. We have more places to search."

  While they filed out of the room, Matias defended himself, "I'm just saying if a soldier needs a place to sleep, it'd be nice to sleep in the mistress's bed."

  "You're doing it again! It's coming off as creepy."

  "What? If I want to sleep in a lady's bed, why can't I sleep there? I'm only sleeping. She can turn the other way if she doesn't like it."

  "You're doing it again!"

  "Maybe we should use the term quartering? Make it sound like a bunch of mates bunking together?" another soldier suggested.

  "Yeah, quartering. Who'd ever object to that?"

  Their voices trailed off as they left.

  "Well," Petra said. "That worked."

  "Fascinating," Tim said, inspecting his glasses. "Jack must have made a permanent enchantment."

  They heard Matias outside, "But Corwin, it's not them! I'm telling you, it's just a remarkable resemblance."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "That's what my cousin said, too, and now he's dead at the gate," Corwin said, right outside the door. He poked his head inside. Corwin glanced around at the party and said, "No, looks like you're right. It's not them. Any of you seen the Silent Legion about?"

  "No," Petra shrugged.

  "Right," Corwin said. "Let me know if you do."

  Matias's and Corwin's voices grew distant as they walked away.

  "We don't have much time," Annelise said, while she gathered her things. "They will be back in force."

  Jack raised his hand.

  "Yes, Jack..."

  "I have a question. Can't we use the glasses and walk out of town?"

  "It may work well on the soldiers," Annelise replied, "but if Sir Grey is here, then he most certainly has a warlock with him. You can't fool a magic user."

  Aiden poked his head outside and said, "Looks like we are screwed. The entire town is crawling with them."

  "The front door isn't the only path to follow," Annelise said, and moved a giant basket from its spot on the floor. Underneath was a trapdoor. She pulled it open and ushered them inside.

  Sissy frowned and said, "This isn't the sewers, is it? I don't know if I can handle sewers. This place already smells enough."

  "Oh, no," Annelise responded. "These are the tunnels of the dead. Back in the plague, they used to haul the bodies out this way."

  "That's no better!"

  Petra looked at the faces around her. While they all looked like stoic adventurers, she knew they were terrified. She regarded her son and knew that if he was going to get through this, she needed all the help she could get. "Fine," Petra said. "You need me to make some rousing speech, so here it is. Those assholes out there are going to kill us. They don't care if it is a sewer or a tunnel of the dead. They will gut us and drop us down there to rot unless we do something about it. Now, we can all pretend like we don't know each other when we get back to Beaverton, but I have gotten to know you. Jack, you're a prick, but a prick with an incredible voice. I've heard you singing in the closets at school."

  "What are you doing in the closets?" Jack said.

  "I’m the campus pot dealer. What do you think? When we get back, quit trying to impress your buddies by picking on people like Tim and audition for the damn school musical already. Tim, your brother is amazing, but he is not you. You are better than him because even though you don't make the cut for any team, you get back up and try harder. Do you think your brother is going to do that? The first time in life he gets rejected, it will crush him, and the people who get the farthest in life know how to deal with rejection."

  "I guess you're right," Tim said. "But I still—"

  "Wah, wah!" Petra said. "We don't have time to fix your self-esteem issues. Sissy, I thought you were a self-entitled brat who didn't really care about anything but herself."

  "And now?" Sissy asked.

  "I still do! Get over yourself and think about someone else for a change!"

  "I'll have you know that I organized a Black Lives Matter protest this summer!"

  "I guess that's something."

  "I know, right? It's going to look so good on my college apps -- so invested in the community."

  "And Aiden," Petra narrowed her eyes at the elf. "I don't know anything about you. Other than the fact you're, like, the only person left who drives a VW mini bus, you dress like you should be in a Nirvana video, and you smoke more pot than Cypress Hill, can you get any more 90's stereotype?"

  "I want to sell hand-knit dog sweaters on Etsy," Aiden said, as if he were admitting a dark secret. "Also, cat sweaters, too. I sell them at the Portland Saturday Market out of the back of my bus. People tell me I should sell them online, but I'm afraid."

  "Okay," Petra said. "Cat and dog sweaters, that's great. You see, if we get out of here, I'll help you out. Computers aren't as scary as you think. We'll get your Etsy store created."

  "Oh, no, I'm not afraid of that," Aiden said. "I'm afraid that as soon as I go online, BAM! Big Sweater comes in and copies all my designs. Soon there will be cat sweaters in every PetSmart and Petco in America."

  "Do you ever think that you smoke too much weed?"

  "Sometimes not enough. Gotta keep the creative juices flowing somehow."

  "The point is," Petra said, "that we are stronger together than we are apart."

  Petra held out her hand.

  "Stronger together," Tim said, and put his over hers.

  "Stronger together," the others murmured as they put their hands into the ring.

  Jonathan ran and belly-flopped onto the hands, cackling with glee. They were all bowled over by the barbarian. Once they got back on their feet, they jumped into the tunnel. Annelise was the last one inside and closed the door behind her. The darkness closed in around them.

  "Mama!" Jonathan squealed and gripped her shoulder.

  "I'm here, baby," she said.

  "What was that?" Sissy shrieked.

  "It's just me, babe," Jack said.

  "I think you're touching me," Aiden said.

  "Everyone, be quiet!" Tim yelled, but the uproar among the group continued until it was broken by a pale green light coming from Annelise's dagger while she hummed. Jack pulled his hand away from the elf next to him.

  "Uh, guys..." Tim said.

  "Where to next?" Petra asked Annelise.

  Their guide shrugged and said, "I'm not sure."

  "Not sure? What do you mean, not sure?"

  "Terrence was supposed to guide us through the tunnels."

  "Guys!" Tim said, with more urgency. The two continued their argument.

  "You've never been here?" Petra berated.

  "I've only read about this place." Annelise shrugged.

  "Great, so you never left the capitol?"

  "You try tea-barmaid full time and getting out for an adventure or two. I kept you alive this far!"

  "GUYS!"

  Petra continued. "These tunnels could go anywhere! At least up there, we could take our chances. Maybe we just avoid the warlock. Ever think of that?"

  "GUYS!" Tim screamed.

  "What?!" both Petra and Annelise said at the same time.

  Tim was being held up against the wall by a hideous creature. It was a walking corpse with long, black straggly hair, fangs, and claws. It hissed and ran its nail down Tim's face.

  "Ralicuk wants to feast on dwarven flesh," it grinned, while maggots wriggled from its jaws.

  "I think we found out what killed Terrance," Tim squeaked.

  Jonathan saw the creature and laughed, "Let's play Rick Grimes!"

  "No, baby," Petra said, and tried to hold him back. It was her fault. She had a Walking Dead bobblehead collection. Jonathan often made her play the role of zombie while he pewed with a wobbly Rick Grimes. Her man-sized toddler pulled out his battle axe and chopped the thing in half.

  Tim fell to the ground, and Jonathan clapped. "Again! Again!"

  As if granting his wish, the maggots swelled from the wound. The wriggling piles pulled the two pieces back together. They wove through the skin, stitching it up. Petra could see the legs twitch and the hands clench while they were being restored.

  "Run!" Petra yelled.

  The group bolted and did not look back.

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