Chapter 3

Arrival

I've never been much of a storyteller; instead I much prefer pointing out things that are wrong or unfair or just plain stupid, and try to see the ironic humor in the situations that don't drive me into an outraged frenzy.

I've changed. I can feel it. I mean, I'm still me, but... being that... mermaid, that was, like, really hard to describe. Back home, way back whenever, I could be a tad abrasive, I know... but deep down I craved a sense of acceptance. Of belonging. If that curly haired blonde hadn't kicked the bucket, things might have played out differently. I'd thought about that, a lot, during my purgatory in the wilderness. Maddeningly, I couldn't quite remember her name, or even her face, but... she'd been something special. Yet another failure. She'd been the first girl I'd really-

Back then, everything was so vague. The faceless blonde, and that defiant redhead that plagued my dreams, were some of the only things I could recall with any clarity.

It began with one of those half-remembered dreams, the day of the Carnival of Tears.

Cue scary music.

I woke up on the road. Well, really I was a few yards off of a wide path of dirt that disappeared into the distance in both directions. I'd been traveling east for the previous few days, on the last leg of my journey. My quest, you could say. It had been a loooong year. I'd made an entirely different kind of contract, avenged a fallen comrade, and traveled nearly a thousand miles. Stifling a groan, since I could detect the presence of others around me, I sat up. After so many repetitions of this abrupt realization upon waking, I was no longer alarmed. The soft sounds of sleeping and the muted crackle of the low fire were actually profoundly comforting.

Before this begins sounding overly romantic, let me be clear. Traveling on the dirt paths that connected each small bastion of civilization to another, surrounded by the ever-present dangers of bandits and deadly beasts and evil fey creatures with sadistic dispositions and sharp claws and sharper teeth... it's not all that enjoyable. Despite the occasional fight for your life, it's mostly a long, boring, plodding, jarringly bumpy journey. If you're lucky enough to have a horse, that is.

Traveling a couple hundred miles on foot is an entirely different story. Much, much worse.

The very worst thing, however, is the sad truth that, once outside of a town, you will never, ever encounter a bathroom. Never. It's not so bad when there are trees around; you can hide behind them, and of course there's the whole convenience of leaves. But imagine, a well traveled road on a flat, grassy plain. You can be a hundred yards from the path and still have no sense of privacy. Or dignity. When you crouch a certain way... it's impossible to mistake. It's a good thing I have this cape. As long as I'm careful…

Not that "bathroom" here has the same connotation as back home. A word of advice: be careful. It's not nearly as easy to wash your hands without plumbing. And bring your own paper; I always buy a new book in every town I come across.

Gritting my teeth at the chill that raised hairs all over my body, I eased out from underneath my blanket, carefully untwisting the light shirt of interlocking links of chain I'd slept in, feeling it sharply pinch my abdomen as I shifted. It wasn't the most comfortable sleep-wear, and at night without a bedroll it could get really uncomfortable when it got cold. The thing is, sleeping in a bulky suit of metal armor half as massive as you are, well, it doesn't provide the body with much rest. Like so many other things in life, I learned that the hard way.

But you also don't want to wake up in the middle of the night with an owlbear approaching while you're wearing nothing more substantial than cloth. And when things go sideways, you never, ever seem to have the required two and a half minutes to get your gear correctly placed and strapped tight.

Again. Learned the hard way.

What's an owlbear? One of the apex predators that roam the wilderness of this part of the world. Use your imagination. It looks just like it sounds, as long as you aren't imagining wings. It was one of the reasons that Malgos was awake, staring out into the night.

The tall elf had already donned the heavy plate armor so similar to my own; last watch was nice because when you finished you were ready to start the day. And you didn't have to wake up in the middle of the night and then try to stay awake in the dark. The armor that the muscular elf wore had been the reason I'd stopped, the night before. Not one, but two fully armored men camped out alongside the road. It was a sight I'd never seen, and when one of them had turned out to be so short and stocky, my curiosity had been piqued. The woman sitting by the fire, strangely exotic features lit hauntingly from below, sent a shiver down my spine. Even in the orange glow of the flames, her pallor was almost ghostly.

Presently, Malgos turned, the long black hair streaked with white tied behind his head in the elvish fashion to expose his pointed ears. The eerie, stark white eyes seemed to stare blindly, but he could see as well as anyone. He'd mentioned it in passing, something about a family curse resulting from, in his words, "an indiscretion." Magic was capable of doing some crazy, messed up things, and this place was absolutely overflowing with it. I gave a tired wave as I left the camp, huddled in my cloak against the early morning chill, thinking about the mission I'd been given, and the ways in which one confronts impossible tasks.

At least there'd been no frost.

I find myself less of a people person than ever. Almost a year on the road, alone, had made me impatient. That being said, it doesn't matter how much of a badass you are; if something catches you sleeping, you're in all sorts of hurt. That's why it had felt so comforting when I'd woken up to the sounds of life.

So anyway, I got back to camp fifteen minutes later, having finished with my morning business and worked the kinks out of my aching neck. I'd spend, easily, months worth of nights sleeping along roads. Or worse, within the wilderness, which was almost everywhere. It was amazing to think of a world that hadn't been fully mapped, fully explored even. Strange.

A few of the others had begun stirring, so I took that as permission to begin putting on my armor. It was relaxing, a morning ritual that helped me clear my mind. The gleaming, intricately etched metal shone as the sun crested the horizon, the pieces clanging hollowly as they fit together seamlessly. Taking the individual components out of the oiled cloth I'd wrapped them in, I slipped into the underarmor, a tough but supple outfit of boiled leather and thick links of woven chain, with a steel plate or two sewn in for good measure in important areas, like, say, the groin. Alone, it looked quite risque, at least until I fastened the shoulder straps..

First I slipped into my metal-reinforced boots that were actually amazingly comfortable. If you had the gold, there were some astonishing things this world had to offer, and comfortable boots had been the priority after my month of suffering in the wilderness. The greaves came next, strapping around my legs, some extra padding along the interior helping prevent any excessive wear from riding my warhorse. This actually consisted of the greaves, the poleynus and the cuisses, each a separate series of plates protecting the calf, knee and thigh respectively. The thing is, most people don't really care about each and every piece of the armor, I've found, so I'll abbreviate as best I can. It's like when someone talks about all the individual notes and chords and stanzas and movements within a song. It's beautiful because its a song, not because you can dissect it down to each little detail. That's just being obnoxious.

You put the leg stuff on first, because once you belt down the breast plate and back plate, which are exactly what they sound like, you're mobility is constricted. My suit was personally crafted by an admittedly self-proclaimed master armorer of an Order of knights, and later enchanted with protective magics that made it even less restrictive, but I still can't touch my toes. Or hop over a five foot wall, at least not without a running start. And just as you'd expect, fifty pounds of leather and steel slow you down a bit, but that's why there's magic.

I know what you're thinking. Breast plate. No, it does not have massive armored jugs sticking out of the front. For one thing, that looks ridiculous. For another, the whole point of plate armor is to deflect a strike; things that catch a blade will instead channel that force. Not what I'd want having happen to the center of my chest. Finally, there's not really a good reason to go around announcing you're a woman alone on the road; it's bad enough being so short. It tends to make foolish people bold, and result in trouble more often than not. It's a little squished in here, but what can you do? The first time you see a man take an arrow through the gut and fall down screaming, you remember all the clinks and clangs of that shit hitting you but barely being noticeable in the fight, and you realize how awesome armor is.

Finally I put on the vambrace and the rerebrace, covering my lower and upper arms, tying down these little things that were basically shields under the armpit, an otherwise potentially vulnerable area. The gauntlets were hooked to my belt for the moment, since I'd be needing to pack my gear and get on my horse.

Once my armor was in place, I picked up my sashimono, the pole that attached to my back and from which hung my banner. Knights were expected to represent, even if the rest of the Order had been destroyed. That way, the bad guys would have an easier time deciding to come after me. Or at least, I think that's the theory. It seemed to work for me.

My banner was simple; a blue crescent moon on a field of red.

Another fifteen minutes found the sun risen just above the horizon, right in our faces. I slid the visor down on my helmet, squinting in the distance as I chewed the last of my bacon breakfast. My horse cantered along as we headed east, our destination within reach.

If you ever have a chance to watch a dwarf mount a horse, you will not regret doing so. Lodrin, quite and surly this morning after enjoying copious amounts of drink the night before, swayed in his saddle alarmingly. Shorter than me, he was hairy, bearded, and easily twice as wide. His drinking companion, Tad, rode more confidently, tossing small morsels of bacon to the creature that followed him around. It was the size of a large dog, but it's head was a strange mix of feline and canine. He called it a thylacine. A human, Tad was a ranger, and looked dressed for the part. Behind him came another human, this man named Taj.

Yep. Tad… and Taj. This caused me immense confusion the prior evening, and would continue to do so in the future. Taj was less wild and unkempt, and more shifty and, I'd have to say, slimey. Not texture-wise, but in disposition. Crooked, I guess. He wasn't bad, necessarily, but he was certainly roguish. He was flanked by Malgos, looking surprisingly massive for an elf inside his armor, and Amaya, the strange, grey-shaded woman claiming to be from another dimension. The Shadow world, or something equally sinister sounding. Everything about her was colored in the black, white or more often a mix. Her hair was shoulder length and very pale grey. Her eyes were little orbs of shadow, pitch black. It was unsettling, at first.

I'd been passing through farmland for days, the residents of the fertile plains of this area already hard at work as the beginning of spring brought preparation for the upcoming year to a feverish pitch. I was never sure exactly what they were doing out there, mucking around and bending over and swinging their poles and stuff, but I had sense enough to realize whatever they did allowed me to eat. Hunting was time consuming and often fruitless. Unlike berry-picking, which by definition was quite fruitful.

As we approached the city, Callisto, capital of Arcadia, the traffic along the road increased substantially. Which meant instead of a handful of people visible ahead or behind us, there was somewhere between fifty and eighty, and an even larger group was clustering around the entrance to the city. We had to wait in line as a group of guards admitted people into the town. There weren't walls or anything, just what looked to be a moderate sized river on the opposite side of the city. I had the impression, however, that if we were to waltz on in, those armored guards would probably take umbrage with us. That's a fancy way of saying they'd be pissed.

So, we waited in line, Amaya looking around with her wide, inquisitive eyes while Taj rolled a coin through his fingers in boredom, never one to pass up a chance to show off. It didn't take all that long, and as we got near the entrance, I saw what was happening. Most people, farmers and wagon-drivers and folk like that were given a once over and then waved in. Anyone with a weapon, however, was taken off to the side. Uh-oh, I thought to myself. Some places were strict about deadly weaponry, or armor that made it difficult if not impossible for the local guardian caste to enforce the law.

This country, supposedly, was different. But I'd seen a lot of messed up places in the past year, and was wary of any form of power structure until I had a good feel for what they were about. These people had absolutely no concept of checks and balances. There had been this one country, Galt, that had been swept up in a bloody civil war for over a generation, one group rising to power and trying to eradicate their enemies before being pulled down by the mob, led by a new group of raving maniacs in a perpetual cycle of death and destruction. This other guy had an entire nation convinced he was a god. A god. And they believed him. He even had his own priests! And don't even get me started on that degenerate filth masquerading as a king in Pitax!

My worries were mostly unjustified. As we were led to the side by several guards, one apiece, we were checked politely but firmly for weapons. As usual, I had to endure the incredulous stare of the one assigned to me as he goggled at my hair. We got a brief rundown of the rules of the town; don't kill anyone, don't steal, don't be an asshole. Pretty self explanatory, even if the last one was worryingly vague. The guards offered to store our weapons, which we had handed to them for inspection: my strange-looking chopping sword, the flamboyant Taj's daggers, or at least the ones he had chosen to reveal, the armored elf Malgos's enormous, curved no-dachi and a short stabbing sword that normally hung at his side. Lodrin's warhammer and the fur-clad Tad's longbow and greatsword were taken as well. Of us all, only Amaya had nothing to turn over. As one, we became alarmed at the suggestion and vehemently declined taking them up on their offer. The one who held my blade nodded knowingly.

What they did instead was interesting. We got to keep our stuff, but before we got the weapons back, they took out this spool of thin wire, wrapping the hilt to the scabbard a few dozen times in a complex, interweaving pattern. It went surprisingly quickly, and looked quite pretty, actually. A cowled man stepped forward, touching each of the wrappings in the middle, where the crossing strands met, and a tiny glyph appeared. I gasped, the sight of the shimmering blue rune unleashing a flood of memories. Twisting bulbous sigils that danced madly in the chaos of the labyrinth, slashing my way through before confronting the winged box with the strange moving pictures, trying so hard to save... something. Someone.

I noticed one of the guards looking at me, and worked at regaining my composure. The flash had been so vivid; bizarrely surreal but at the same time as detailed as what I was experiencing at the moment. I shook my head, took my sword and headed into town.

The city was obviously still a work in progress. Looking around, empty lots and partially constructed buildings dotted the area, but other structures could be seen, clean and new and for all I could tell, well built. Immediately before us was a huge complex including a large building, several barns, a giant corral, and various stables and outbuildings. Cattle, horses and some other domesticated creatures could be seen milling within. It stank.

We'd entered from the north, and heading south past the animals, my eyes were drawn to an eerie cemetery that lay further along the edge of town. There was something creepily familiar about the feeling it gave me. Glancing away, I could see what appeared to be a large, multi-story mansion adjacent to the graveyard, and beyond both, the edifice of an immense estate rose into the air, a high stone wall surrounding the huge, winged structure that loomed a few blocks away.

Winged in the sense that, there was a big main building, with two additional buildings jutting out from the sides. Not that it actually possessed wings, and potentially the capability for flight. Not an entirely ridiculous idea, given some of the sights I've seen during the past year. I've been told that there's a hut that walks around on gigantic chicken legs, somewhere far to the north. And all those legends about floating castles.

We turned left, heading deeper into the town. An immense black basalt tower stood watch, its iron-barred windows ensuring everyone knew they looked upon a prison. "What do you think of that?" Tad asked, sounding a little nervous to my keen and discerning ears. His animal was glued to his leg, its strange head darting around anxiously as people passed us with interested expressions and outright curiosity. Except for the ones who looked sad, or were flat out sobbing as they walked.

"Too early ta tell," said Lodrin gruffly.

"Nothing wrong with a little law and order, is there?" I asked. I mean, why were they getting freaked out about a mean looking jail?

"This is an new kingdom trying to reclaim the wilderness, remember." That was Malgos's contribution. "Frontier justice can be tough on the stomach. Even worse on the neck," he added grimly, unconsciously checking to make sure the hilt of the big sword over his shoulder was sitting just so.

"There's practically nobody in there," I mentioned casually, feeling compelled to check the hilt of my own weapon. The place looked like it could fit a hundred people inside, possibly more depending on what was below ground. I could feel exactly one person who made my danger sense tingle. The others gave me strange looks, from quizzical to disbelieving.

"How can you possibly know that?" asked Taj, his oily smile forgotten. The group waited for me to answer as we continued to ride through the city street, neighborhoods of relatively clean and safe-looking houses on our left.

I debated lying, but knew I wasn't particularly good at it. "I just, ah, know." That didn't work. "I can sense it. We passed close by, where I would have sort of felt if there'd been any, um, dangerous people inside." This was perhaps the most outrageous of my new abilities. The concept of being able to detect the presence of evil, a relatively subjective concept to begin with... but a god had told me it was true, and if you can't believe a god, you may as well just give up right now, right?

A part of me wondered if I'd been a little too quick to believe him. The feeling of certainty it had given me was so liberating.

The humans were the ones who reacted first, even Taj's attempt to mask his sudden unease failing. The non-humans were stoic, confident in the purity of their intrinsic motivations. It was fascinating to see.

Of course they'd all passed the test, or scan, or whatever you want to call it. If I could trust my intuition, I knew none of them were wicked or evil. At least, not mostly evil or wicked. I couldn't exactly tell how it worked. None of them were hero material, no questing paladin bleeding righteousness and seeking to fight against the eternal darkness with his last breath. I'd actually had the mixed pleasure of meeting a few of those types heading up to that great meat grinder far to the north.

"You can't... tell what we're thinking, can you?" Tad asked hesitantly. The others began to look a little more concerned.

"No. I mean, I could, but I won't," I lied, just to keep them honest. I had my suspicions about the humans, the elf was too quiet to get a fix on, the dwarf was a dwarf, and the ephemeral shadow-land lady was mysterious enough for me to not really be able to trust her yet. "It's just a feeling I get, like having an itch." I didn't mention how many times that sense had saved my ass from some hidden menace.

They kept glancing at me as we walked, passing by an immaculate garden, complete with a small pond and mossy stones, that lay behind a tall iron fence that separated the street from a large, elegant-looking building. A hotel or something? The stone shingles were colored, and the walls were painted with a subtle but brilliant rose.

Two immense stone structures stood before us to the left, adjacent to the wide, placid river that ran parallel to us a block ahead. The industrial looking buildings billowed steam, and the clang of metal could be heard as the wind changed, and suddenly the smell of smoke and molten metal wafted across the street. To the right of those lay a pair of large, wooden buildings, stacks upon stacks of barrels laid out in its yard. Looking further to the right, there was what looked to be a small campus; large, academic buildings sharing space with functional-looking dormitories. Beyond that, a small crowd milled, the first gathering of people we'd seen.

I wanted to go see what was going on. I turned to the others, just as Lodrin exclaimed, "Will ya look at them barrels? That's a brewery, or I'm an elf!" Malgos frowned as the dwarf began hustling towards the pair of buildings set up across an empty lot, his short legs moving him across the distant with surprising spryness. The others followed the stout figure eagerly, except for Amaya, who merely shrugged and trailed behind.

The man in the shop who sold us drinks told us why the city seemed so deserted; apparently the carnival was in town. I could almost feel my ears perking up. It had been so long since I'd done anything, well, fun. He made some wild guesses about the nature of its attractions with Taj, who seemed to know something about the business. I tried to be patient, but couldn't help wondering why speculate when we could just go and see?.

That's when we heard about the attack, a bunch of townsfolk slain at the hands of some ten foot tall evil demon woman who apparently shot arrows and lightning bolts out of her eyes, from the back of her monstrous owlbear no less. See! I told you they were a danger around here. Supposedly, this particular one had been as large as a two story building... but people tend to exaggerate when remembering stressful situations. In their defense, though, it had torn down the entire side of an enormous theater that sat adjacent to the college I'd seen to the south, wounding both patrons and national pride in the process.

Knallhart was gone, and my reason for being here with them. They'd ridden off to try and take care of that menace. According to the brewer, or vintner, or distiller, or whatever the guy in the shop who sold the guys liquor was, they'd been out on some kind of rescue mission to find, of all things, a child who'd gone missing. Oh man, my heart just about melted there. The leaders of this place went out to help some little kid! I was more hopeful than ever that this place would finally be the spot where I found out where I fit in.

I was getting so tired of wandering. And worse, that sense of purposelessness that had crept over me during my trek north.

Knallhart. It's a group of people, or an elite organization, take your pick. I guess you could call them a bunch of adventurers, but such a thing would never be said in polite company. They're the one's who established this small, insignificant realm surrounded by barbarians to the west, a brewing civil war to the north, the chaotic River Kingdoms to the south, and nothing but mountains to the east.

But it had potential. A vision, if that wasn't stating it with too much grandiloquence. That, and the Autarch was someone I felt, literally, compelled to meet.

Stupid god dreams.

We sipped a surprisingly refreshing beverage made from, among other things, sweet, rich honey. Well, some of us sipped, the others gulped. Talk turned to what we should do next.

"There's the brothels," remarked Tad. His little beast had been tethered up outside, along with our horses. They'd been too large to fit through the door.

"That carnival sounds fun," proposed Amaya. I could tell she felt strong about it because she had talked.

I couldn't help thinking their priorities were out of place; I was here to try to impress the leader of a nation, not get off... track, going to some traveling freak show. "Don't you think we should, maybe, explore this town a little? Get to know this place? The lay of the land, and all that. There was that cemetery, and I'd like to get a look at that walled compound, and..." I broke off, seeing the glazed look in my companions' eyes.

"Plenty of time for that later. I want to go check out the carnival, too," muttered Taj, nodding to himself and playing with an unsheathed dagger, blatantly flouting the whole no-weapon-drawing rule we'd been told. I punched his arm, a little harder than I intended, forgetting just how strong I was in this body. The others reached a consensus and, a little grumpily, I followed them back out of town, heading around a hill to the spectacle that awaited beyond.

*Yawn* I know! Hooray for me, I woke up and walked to a town. And I didn't even have to do the walking! This is truly the stuff epic adventures are made of. Next time there will be freaks and monsters and displays of prowess and strength.