The Dark Lord Page 16

  This was far too close to what I’d been thinking myself. I knew it was long past time for me to have a heart-to-heart with the dwarf. “What do you mean by that?” I asked sharply, looking down at him.

  “Just what I said, laddie. We’ve got to expect losses in an expedition like this. The Dark Queen plays for keeps. If we wallow in our defeats, we won’t have the fortitude to do what must be done. If we try to save everyone, we will surely fall behind. Stick to the plan, that’s the ticket.”

  “But you said ‘pattern.’ You said, ‘It’s all part of the pattern,’” I probed, suddenly uncertain if I was reading too much into his words.

  “Did I? Interestin’ choice of words. Don’t know what I meant by that. Do you?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answered slowly, because I wasn’t.

  What followed was a silent staring contest—his washed-out gray eyes against my faded blue. I lost again, but to my credit there was a lot of smoke in the air and he is lower to the ground. Anyway, I wish I could say that I’m an excellent judge of character and that afterward I was able to tell, with absolute certainty, what and who Rook was. The truth is that I had no idea in that moment if Rook was another Mysterian infiltrating my subworld (in which case I was dead), a spy from Vivian sent to sabotage my attempted coup (again probably resulting in me being dead), or just a highland dwarf with delusions of grandeur (another good way to get killed). On the sole ground that there was nothing I could do about it, I decided to believe that he was on my side.

  As soon as I blinked I felt his broad hand on my elbow guiding back to the graves. “Well, nothing for us to worry about today, laddie,” he said. “Right now it’s time for you to say a few words about our fallen comrades, and maybe even something about those that you chose to give a second chance to. Don’t you think?”

  He wandered off to gather the remainder of the Company of the Fellowship. As usual, Rook’s efficiency was my undoing. I hadn’t even begun to contemplate what I might say or how I might escape saying it when he was back, herding the group into a circle around the graves and me. There they stood, waiting. The music in my head had gone appropriately somber, which bothered me on several levels.

  I looked around the group and saw a lot of tears and decided Rook was right. A few words couldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

  “These things happen,” I started. Angry looks snapped in my direction and I cursed myself for being an idiot. “But . . . but . . .” I continued hastily, “we shouldn’t let them happen. Again. As their souls go to a better place, let us look to one another and promise ourselves that their deaths will not be in vain. We will stay unified in our purpose. When I look upon these faces and see Nigel and Cameron and . . .”

  I hesitated as I realized that I had no idea whether I should even mention the one to two gnomes that had apparently gone missing last night. I started to say something generic about “the others,” which admittedly would have been awful, when the wind shifted and a particularly noxious cloud of smoke sent me into a coughing fit.

  “He is overcome,” Rook said, stepping in front of me. “Let us have a moment of silence.” He bowed his head somberly.

  The dwarf wasn’t kidding when he said “a moment,” because less than a minute later he wheezed, “Right! Now, get to your packin’! We ride out before noon!”

  I was saddling my horse and trying to wrestle the fifty-foot coil of rope back into place when Valdara walked up. Sometime in the night she must have cleaned her armor and her weapons, but she was not the glamorous post-battle warrior-woman I had always imagined. She had twisted her long red hair into a braid that ran down her back, her face was covered in soot, her hands and nails were caked with grime, and frankly she smelled like a charnel house.

  “Can I talk to you a minute, Avery?”

  I swallowed against my gag reflex and nodded.

  She led me away from the rest of the group out onto the plains. Out here, at least, there was a stiff wind blowing so the smell didn’t linger. We stopped on a low mound of dirt and stone, and she asked, “Why are we going to the Village of Hamlet?”

  “It’s our best chance to get information on the location of Justice Cleaver,” I replied, a little disappointed that she had either missed or ignored my dramatic speech the very first day of our adventure.

  “Yes, I know that’s what you said,” she said with a frown, and stared out at the mountains in the distance.

  I’ve been called dense before and emotionally unavailable and a jerk, but even I could see she was worried. “What’s wrong, Valdara?”

  Ripping a long thin stalk of brown grass from the ground she began wrapping it around her fingers nervously. “Did you know that when we joined together to fight the Dark Lord I first found Drake in a bar, and then I met two dwarfs, and our adventure started at dawn, and we had an elf with us and a wizard, and we had eighteen in our group to begin with, and we ran into a trio of trolls on a barren plain on our way to the Village of Hamlet—” she paused and took a deep breath “—and five of us died before we made it to town? I have raised two burial mounds on the Sea of Grass, one we just came from and the other we are standing on.”

  I stumbled backward off the mound and said, “I don’t understand,” because I didn’t.

  She let her gaze rise to meet my eyes, and I saw that they were bright with tears. “Everything is happening as it did last time—everything!”

  My initial thought was, That’s entirely possible, maybe even probable. However, I doubted that would make her feel any better. Instead, I settled on the safer and more academic gambit of arguing a technicality. “Not everything is the same,” I said. “The town is only half a day ahead and we have only lost two.”

  “Four,” she said raggedly. “Nigel, Cameron, Puddlestripe, and Fizzwhistle.”

  “Puddlewhat and Fizzwho?” I said before I could stop myself.

  Her eyes narrowed in anger. “The gnomes!” she barked. “Berrycrank and I have combed the area around the camp, but they’re gone. They were probably thrown into a ravine and carried away by gnolls. This plain is crawling with gnolls.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I said, still coming to terms with the idea that we had a party member called Berrycrank.

  “I’m not surprised,” she spat. “I know you never bother to talk to them, but you should at least learn their names.” She was right, and defending myself by saying that I hadn’t even been sure that the gnomes were real didn’t seem likely to improve things so I said nothing. “The point is,” she said, twisting the blade of grass angrily in her hands, “it’s all happening again.”

  “Not exactly,” I said brightly. “You said five died on the journey to Hamlet last time, but we will be in the village in a few hours and the plains have only claimed four of us.”

  She threw the mangled grass back to the ground. “That’s what’s worrying me.”

  I saw the merits in her concern. Silently I put odds on Paul or one of the gnomes, but out loud I gave her a confident smile and said, “Last time you didn’t have me.”

  She put her head to one side and looked at me searchingly. “I know. That’s the other thing I’ve been thinking about. Everything has been the same . . . except you. I was lying back in Blightsbury when I told you that we had two wizards last time. You were just so cocky and certain, and I wanted to contradict you. The fact is, we had one. He died in the troll attack. Last night Sam would have died save for you. Even before he fell from grace Drake would never have been able to do what you did.”

  I know it wasn’t what she was intending, but Valdara was reawakening my earlier fears that I might have screwed up the pattern by saving Sam. “Should I not have?” I mumbled.

  I meant it for myself, but she heard. She grabbed my hands in hers. “Gods, Avery, that’s not what I meant. You were amazing. It’s just that if you could change that, maybe you can change everything else.”

  Even with the smell it was nice being this close to her, and having her hold my
hands, and having her tell me that I was amazing, but the direction the conversation was taking was alarming. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s not go into Hamlet. Let’s go directly after the Dark Queen. Maybe this time we can prevent the darkness from spreading in the first place. Maybe we can stop the killing before it starts.”

  We had officially entered the danger zone. I pulled away from her and said, “She’s too powerful, Valdara. Sam and Ariella and the others aren’t ready to face her.”

  “But that’s the point. With your magic, my sword, Drake’s staff, and maybe the dwarfs, we don’t the rest. Don’t you see, no one else needs to die, Avery!”

  Her face alive with excitement at the possibility. In that moment, I wanted to say yes, but I knew what we would be facing when we finally met Vivian. Absent the full power of the reality pattern supporting us, it would be impossible to stop her.

  I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous. We need Justice Cleaver, which means we need Hamlet. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

  She wrapped her arms around her body and turned away to look back out across the horizon. “You don’t know Hamlet.”

  Chapter 16

  THE VILLAGE OF HAMLET

  I remained at Valdara’s side for a time, but she would say nothing more. When I finally left her she was still standing quietly staring into the distance. I wondered what she was seeing. Maybe it was the faces of lost friends, or the Plains of Despair in those final days of the Dark Lord, or some other horror I had visited upon her. I decided that I owed it to her to do a little more research into Hamlet, which meant Eldrin.

  “Eldrin? You out there?” I asked when I was safely away.

  The response came back a little staticky. “Avery? I’m having some trouble. Give me a moment. Ah . . .”

  I felt a popping in my head and the connection became stronger and clearer. “That’s better,” I said.

  “No,” he countered, “it’s worse. Your subworld’s frequency continues to change, which means that the world is continuing to shift. I should be at the observatory plotting your course instead of tracking down this stupid battle-axe of yours.”

  “Well, where’s Dawn? I thought she was helping you.”

  “Student records,” he said with a sigh. “I told her it was a waste of time to descend into the chaos of that bureaucracy, but she thinks she found some oddities in Vivian’s stated home world. On that subject, did you know your girlfriend dots her i’s with little eyes? It is exceedingly creepy.”

  “She isn’t my girlfriend,” I growled. “She’s my . . .” I could think of nothing better to call her. Instead, I said, “Never mind.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he replied. “Anyway, we are about to go dark so what do you need?”

  “First, how much closer are we to Mysterium? When do you think other subworld astronomers will start to notice what’s happening?”

  I pictured him staring off at nothing as he thought it through. “Well, it is hard to be precise based only on the frequency shifts, but there are roughly fifty-two potential frequency shifts that your subworld could take on its way to harmonizing with Mysterium. In the best-case scenario we have months or even years Mysterium-time before the orbital decay becomes noticeable.”

  “Worst-case,” which I though more likely, “the shifting accelerates at some logarithmic rate, in which case we have about a week or so before your world collides with Mysterium, wreaking untold damage and guaranteeing your expulsion. In that case we have at most a day or two before every subworld astronomer worth his salt notices you. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?” I asked suspiciously.

  “What?” he asked. “Nothing, just an idle thought.”

  “Is it important?”

  “No,” he said much too quickly.

  “Eldrin . . .”

  “I said ‘no,’ don’t you trust me?”

  “No.”

  “Well, lack of trust is an issue you need to take up with your therapist,” he said. “Right now you’re wasting time. Why did you want to talk to me?”

  As usual, Eldrin’s cavalier attitude about his own danger had distracted me from the entire point of my call: the village. “What can you tell me about the Village of Hamlet? Valdara seems to want to avoid it.” I heard the sound of pages flipping. “Are you actually carrying around my DMG?”

  “Of course.”

  “Has it been of any use?” I asked hopefully.

  “Not really, but the selection of tables and statistics makes for amusing reading. Did you know you put in a table on ‘Astral Color Pools’ and another on, and I’m not making this up, ‘Random Harlots’?” he said with a chuckle. I didn’t recall the first and I’m still convinced he was making up the second. “I’m serious,” he giggled. “In the table you have the odds of running into a slovenly trull, a brazen strumpet, a cheap trollop, a saucy tart, a wanton wench, an expensive doxy, a haughty courtesan—you even give a two percent chance of finding an aged madam, a sly pimp, or a rich panderer. Where did you get this stuff?”

  Predictably my head was beginning to ache. “Can we get back to Hamlet, and why Valdara might not want to go there?”

  “Yeah, we don’t have much time left anyway,” he said lightly. “From everything I can find, Hamlet seems perfect for your needs. Both Morgarr and the Heroes of the Ages came through the place during your reign as Dark Lord. It’s proximal to any number of significant locations. The Castle on the Borderlands is nearby, which is famed for the Caves of Disorder. It’s also an easy hike to the entrance of Darkunder where the Fortified Safe of the Dark Elves lies. Plus, you can reach the Cathedral of Compounded Chaos without too much effort. The vampiric stronghold of Crow’s Attic isn’t too far away, although I’d avoid it. It’s rather spooky, and then there’s—”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “Why would anyone live in a village situated so close to so many different sources of death and destruction?”

  “I know it sounds weird, not that anything in that subworld is what one would call normal, but it seems the village economy is almost entirely based around adventurer tourism.”

  “Adventurer tourism?” I asked in disbelief. “Hamlet is built around people exploring dungeons?”

  “Exactly,” he said as though the idea of a town built around groups of people going on legendary quests made any sense whatsoever. “By the way, I hope you have a lot of money. Prices will be pretty inflated.”

  I had no money, but before I could ask him what I was supposed to do about that, he said, “Well, I need to go. I have an exam to proctor, an observatory to sabotage, and Griswald’s office to raid.”

  “Wait! What?” I shouted, but Eldrin had already disconnected. He was going to get himself expelled and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I punched the air in frustration and screamed, “ELDRIN!”

  It was only then that I realized the entire company had been waiting for me and watching as I talked to myself. I took a few deep breaths, put the medallion back in my pocket, and marched silently back to the group.

  We rode for most of that day and the beginning of the next as the flat plains began to roll into hills and trees began to appear in little clumps here and there. We reached Hamlet as morning was giving way to the midday. The town was nestled among the wooded foothills of the mountains, a little stream spilling down from the highlands wound into the village, around its handful of buildings, and then back out again as though it was satisfied it had seen enough. It might have been any place except for a large sign that had been erected by the side of the road next to a small wood shack just on the outskirts:

  welcome to hamlet. known across the globe.

  A man stepped out from the building as we came near. He was dressed in ruffles and hose. The music suddenly shifted. There was a swell of violins, and a classical, courtly melody began.

  Valdara, who had ridden up on my right, muttered, “And so it begins.”

  I turned to ask her what was about to begin, and w
hether she also heard the music, when our greeter put one hand to his chest, stretched the other out to the side, and gave an elaborate bow. As he rose he proclaimed,

  “Greetings, friends unknown. I give welcome from

  the Village of Hamlet, which may never be

  the Hamlet of Village. Lest, in a tempest

  Thou split the ears of our fine citizens.”

  This speech finished, he crossed to the other side of the road, spun, and switched which of his hands was outstretched and which was crossed over his breast.

  “For if adventure is thy goal today,

  Then best to suit your actions to your words, and

  Your words to the action. Honesty and honor are the

  Virtues which we hold dear, and doing else will make

  The judicious grieve, and lead to censure.

  Which, in our village, would overthrow all that thou

  might attempt . . .”

  Thankfully, Drake rode up at this point. “We aren’t paying for the performance,” he growled.

  Rather than finishing, the man gave a grunt of disgust and ducked back inside the little house.

  “What was all that about?” I asked, and from the looks of many of the others, they had the same question.

  Drake shrugged. “Nothing. Just a little of the local flavor,” he said. “They like to try to impress people by speaking iambic. Visitors sometimes throw money—I think mostly out of confusion or a desire to get them to shut-up.”

  “I told you we should avoid Hamlet,” Valdara said wearily, taking a swig from a bottle of wine she’d produced from one of her saddlebags. “The place is strange and that’s coming from someone that has been through the fire swamps, into the paths of the dead, and over the rainbow.”

  “She did warn you, Avery,” Drake pointed out, and took the bottle away from Valdara. She glared at him, but said nothing as he began to empty it on the ground. “This place may have a lot going for it in the adventuring department, but it can be a little off-putting. I’ve always thought the problem was their proximity to all the seriously creepy things that live in the abandoned castles, ruins, and dungeons around this place. I still say that you can’t live so close to so much downright weirdness without having it affect you.”