The Early Chronicles of the Oddlot I: 2. Contracted

Writer’s Note: These Oddlot stories are very lightly edited and can be considered “rough” drafts. They are, however, free.

The barkeep seemed to appreciate what little I’d done, and my cup wasn’t empty during the time I wrote. As I finished the final flourish of my quill, Leffe, Dalvin and Mordo entered the tavern and approached my table. They weren’t alone. A human man with hair and beard more salt than pepper walked with them. He talked with his hands as he spoke quickly, swinging his head between the dwarf, gnome and man. His grandiose hand gestures, gently raised and curved eyebrows, and shining eyes bespoke a man grateful for salvation—and one with a favor to ask. I wrapped up my writing supplies as they came to the table. The three I’d fought alongside sat down, but the greybeard stood hopefully at the head of the table.

“Ah! You must be Ellry’s fourth savior!” he said, clasping his hands together and wringing them together. He couldn’t reach me to shake my hand, so he shook his own.

“I don’t know about savior, but I did what I could. I’m called Ander.”

“Yes, Ander! Your name was already getting around town before the attack. You played quite a performance on Waltr’s stage. I am Gaerling, the mayor of Ellry.”

I bowed my head and gave my best humble smile. While I appreciate a compliment, I know when I’m being buttered up. I’d let him. I drained my cup and set it down firmly, and my most recent companions eyed it with interest.

“Aye, of course! Waltr,” he said, turning to the barkeep. “Another round for the saviors of Ellry.”

“You payin’, Gaerling?” Waltr said in a low rumble.

“Waltr! These fellows saved Ellry tonight. Where’s your appreciation?”

“A lot of folks besides these four helped tonight. Am I gonna give them all free drinks? I already gave the pretty one with the elf ears a few free. Still got a business to run.”

The High Elder blushed crimson behind his thick beard and let his bushy eyebrows scowl at Waltr. “Fine, Waltr. Put it on my tab.”

Waltr snorted and rolled his eyes. I suspected that Gaerling, as mayor, didn’t feel the need to pay his tab often. Still, Waltr lined up some tankards for us. I shared an amused look with my companions.

After the beer finally arrived, with Gaerling looking perturbed that he hadn’t also received a tankard, we got down to the sales pitch.

“A terrible ordeal, tonight,” Gaerling said. “If you boys hadn’t been here, I’m not sure we’d have a tavern to drink in.”

“Mordo crush,” Mordo said quietly. It was a statement of a fact for the warrior, not a brag. “New friends help too,” he said, nodding and smiling at us with approval.

“You have problems with the kobolds before?” Dalvin asked, before taking a long pull from his tankard.

“Not like that, of course, but aye, we have. Or at least we think so now.”

“You think so?” Leffe said, setting his tankard down hard. “What does that mean?”

“Some townsfolk have gone missing lately, and we haven’t been able to find them. We know the kobolds have a lair around here, but well, we’re simple farmers and craftsmen. Even if we could find it, we couldn’t do much about it.”

“Missing people?” I said. “Have you contacted, uh, whoever rules this land? Sorry, but I’m not entirely sure which domain I’m in. This placed didn’t even show on my map.”

“We are in the kingdom of Flushen,” he said, pronouncing it Flu-shen with a long u. “King Vargas is our ruler, but…”

“But the crown city is four days ride from here,” I said.

“Aye. Ellry isn’t high on the Crown’s list of priorities, sadly.”

“Surely you can send messengers to the city and get troops out here.”

“We’ll try, but I fear we don’t have the time to wait for a Royal response. The kobolds could reorganize and attack again.”

I doubted that the four of us could handle a horde of kobolds. However, Mordo and Dalvin seemed eager for the opportunity.

“Mordo and new friends be happy to crush evil lizard heads. Strong undead foulness amongst them. Raven Queen demands such vileness be destroyed.”

“Silvanus does too,” Dalvin said, though he was less eager. I strongly suspected that the druid was regretting coming in from the wilds and mixing in the affairs of civilization, such as it was in Ellry.

“I’m game,” Leffe said, surprising me. Then, “If we’re getting paid, that is.”

Four heads turned to me.

“What do you have in mind,” I said to Gaerling, barely getting the words out.

“I wouldn’t begin to tell such experienced adventurers as yourselves what to do,” Gaerling said. “I leave it in your hands to end the threat to the town in whatever way you see fit.”

Leffe resumed his taciturn posture. “This town ain’t really something the four of us can defend.”

I nodded. “We were lucky earlier. They hadn’t counted on anyone besides a strong farm boy to be in the town. Now that they know we’re here, even kobolds can plan accordingly.”

Gaerling looked grave and nodded sagely. “We lost some strong men who could have helped you, too.” He stroked his gray beard. “I don’t think we could survive another fight in town.”

“We kill kobolds in kobold lair,” Mordo said, arriving at the end of the path Gaerling was leading us down. “Kobolds not worry Mordo. No problem.”

I should have protested immediately. I know Leffe would have supported me, but neither one of us wanted to look scared. Not that I was scared. Mordo’s declaration didn’t strike me as the soundest strategies, is all.

Mordo seemed to sense our apprehension, for he clapped a strong hand on my back. “Is good! Bard look for heroic ballad to sing. This be epic!” He patted my shoulder. “For starters, anyway.”

If walking into a lair of kobolds and their undead minions wasn’t epic enough for Mordo, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was.

The exertion, and perhaps beer, of the night caught up to me all at once and I slumped down. The others, aside from Mordo, looked tired too.

“It will wait until tomorrow, boys, of course,” Gaerling said, sounding much like the father I’d always imagined. “Get a good night’s sleep.” He turned to Waltr. “In private rooms, I should say.”

Waltr’s mouth twisted to the side like he’d had a bite of lime, but he produced two keys and dropped them on the table before he stalked back to the bar.

“That’s all well and good,” Leffe said. “But we still haven’t discussed payment.”

Gaerling, having started to stand up, sat back down. “We’re a simple town, not on a major trade route.” The plea was bright in his eyes. “We don’t have riches hidden in a secret vault or wealthy merchants we can lean on.”

Leffe crossed his arms over his chest. “You realize you’re asking us to risk dying and coming back ourselves as zombies for you, and you can’t offer us something?”

While I agreed in principle with Leffe, I thought his approach a little rough considering the traumatizing evening. Later, I’d come to appreciate the dwarf’s perspective.

“Leffe, I’m sure they’ll take up a collection and give what they can,” I said. I glanced at Gaerling and he nodded vigorously. “I’m sure when the king’s troops get here, they can arrange something more. We don’t want to save the town from monsters, only to leave them to starve this winter.”

Leffe softened and nodded lightly. Gaerling looked like he’d just released a gas bubble that had been paining him. He took a deep breath and the rigidity in his shoulders eased away. He stood and ushered us to the stairs.

“Well, my new friends. We are in your debt. Please know that you are helping the good and hardworking people of Ellry. You are our light in the darkness that has descended. Bards will sing of your heroics in times long from now.”

“Only if they pay me a royalty,” I said.

Upstairs, we divided up. Leffe and Dalvin had been traveling and bunking together for a while now, so they paired off to one room. That left me with Mordo. He had the look of a snorer to me, and certainly could have done with a bath after the sweat he’d worked up on the killing field. The weariness in my bones didn’t care, though, and I flopped on a bed.

When I awoke in the dark, I reckoned I’d been asleep a good four hours, for I felt no grogginess of mind, but I still wanted to cling to my bed. The cacophony and cries for help from Leffe and Dalvin’s room sent me the other way, shooting from my bed and baring naked the blade of my rapier. Mordo beat me to the door and damn near ripped it from its hinges. He didn’t even bother opening our partners’ door, but kicked it open with his thick boot. Had he slept in them? With a start, I realized I’d fallen asleep in my leather armor.

Inside, Dalvin swung his staff desperately at a darkly attired assailant. The new comer was wiry and appeared to be human by the height of him, though the hood and mask obscured him. He darted around Dalvin’s staff, looking for a place to plunge his ornate dagger.

Leffe lay slumped half out of his bed, half on the ground. I saw no wound on him, but the slim dwarf was definitely out of the fight. I feared he might be out of more than that.

The assailant snapped himself backward as Mordo plowed forth. Even in the shadows of his cowl, I could see the white of his eyes widen as the bulky warrior screamed and charged. The shadowy man didn’t pause any longer and leapt headlong out the window. Mordo jumped after him. I paused to check on Dalvin.

“I’m fine,” he said around heavy breathing. “But poor Leffe! Is he…?”

I dropped by my knees and felt for a pulse on the dwarf. He had one, but it was faint. I did find a puncture mark on his neck.

“Poison,” I said. “I have no magic for poison.”

“I do, a little something, anyway,” Dalvin said. He hopped down from on top of his bed and lay hands on the dwarf. “Go after Mordo. I’ll do what I can.”

Using a bit more care than Mordo, I climbed out the window and lowered myself to the ground. We were on the backside of the tavern and lights were lit in response to the commotion. Angry and scared shouts questioned what was going on, or if the kobolds had returned. I answered none of them as I searched around for muscly human and his prey.

I found them in short succession. Mordo had taken cover behind a wagon. The shadowy assailant had him pinned down from the open window of a barn, through which he fired arrows. The assassin must have been incredibly fast to outpace Mordo like that. He’d confounded the warrior with the arrows. Mordo was bare chested, his formidable armor back in the room. As he favored the two-handed maul, he had no shield to cover himself with.

Mordo seemed to be growling to himself in frustration. Fearing he’d attempt something foolish, like a straight ahead charge, I acted. The assassin hadn’t seen me yet. I kept to the shadows and worked my way along the other side of the street until I’d snuck directly under the window. The assassin had pulled up the ladder to his loft, and I saw no quick way up. I did spy a rope with pulley still attached to it, a fallen piece of a block and tackle system. I picked it up.

Mordo saw my movements and crouched ready to act. I waved my hand for him to stand up and duck back down, to draw the assassin’s aim. He understood and popped up. I saw the assassin push forward in the window, arrow notched. I swung the rope and pulley up. I’d meant only to knock his weapon from his hand. Instead, I tangled the rope around his aiming arm. The bow dropped all right. Then, so did he, as I pulled him out of the window.

With a nearly supernatural dexterity, the assassin landed on his feet. He had the ornate dagger out, and I could see now that it dripped with some slimy liquid, no doubt a poison. I whipped my end of the rope at him to defeat his thrust. He moved left and I moved back, forcing him to follow me into the barn.

It was all the distraction we needed. Mordo barreled into him from behind, flattening and pinning the assassin under him. I stomped hard on the hand that held the poisoned dagger, driving my heel until I felt a pop. The assassin squealed and I kicked the weapon aside. Mordo, mercilessly, grabbed the broken hand and twisted backward, where he used the rope to bind the assassin’s hands. I helpfully placed my foot down on the villain’s neck, lest he produced some hidden evil on my friend. A quick pat down revealed nothing more than a few coins, and a vial of the same slimy liquid found on his dagger.

Mordo flipped him over to his back, then roughly sat him up. Townspeople had come out, but I waved them back.

“He’s a cultist,” I said, pointing to the dagger. It had been worked to look like a serpent. “That’s the Zehir cultist dagger.”

“Assassins, yes?” Mordo said. He looked like he was about to spit.

“Aye. The question is, what does he want with Leffe?”

The assassin’s sullen eyes, ringed with the pain of his broken hand, revealed nothing.

“Not much worse than a failed assassin, friend,” I said to him. “From what I know of the Zehir, there’s only one final punishment for failure.”

“Death,” he said. He smiled. A white foam seeped through his teeth, bubbling. The assassin gurgled and choked for a second, before slumping over dead.

“Well, hells,” I said, kicking him in the leg in frustration.

“How? I had hands whole time,” Mordo said.

“A false tooth, mayhap? Took him a moment to wiggle it loose, then one bite and…” I indicated the fresh corpse in front of us. “Drag him back to the tavern. Maybe Dalvin can use the poison to create an antidote.”

“If it is not too late.”

I looked at Mordo. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Leffe might actually die. “Damn!” I sprinted back to our lodgings with the vial and dagger, Mordo dragging the corpse behind him.

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