“Ted!” Cara flung her arms around him, pressing her bow into his back.
Warmth tingled in his chest. “Hey.” He shuffled and patted her on the back. “I’m back.” And thank fuck I keep whatever I have equipped when I die.
“In one piece, too.”
“More or less.” He swallowed. “There was a price.”
Her beaming smile faded. “What do you mean? You didn’t blow yourself up again, did you?”
“Not this time.”
“No, no, no, no, no—you dying is not becoming a ‘this time’!” She sucked in air, her hands rising and falling. “Gah! I should have been there with you.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to help. I dueled one of them. One on one with a battlemage, and I won! Well… he died first. That totally counts.”
Cara stared and shook her head. “Fill me in, and then I’ve got something to tell you.”
After they caught each other up on what had happened, Ted teleported back down and recovered his armor. He searched methodically through the rooms, a tricky task with the strange geometry, but found nothing else of interest.
Teleporting back up, the world lurched again. Ted clutched the recovered leather armor tight and stumbled forward. “Couldn’t see anything else down there. Sorry, no magic bow this time.”
“Next time!” Cara clapped her hands together and bounced from side to side. “Let’s go see Gramok.”
The traps in the courtyard were empty of mana. Ted buffed her up anyway, and teleported himself across the danger zone.
She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think they’ll come back to life right when you’re in front of them?”
“Better safe than dead.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“I’d just gotten Dispel!” His neck stiffened uncomfortably. “Besides, the next time might be worse.”
Cara blinked and tilted her head. “What did you just say?”
He sighed. Damned System, or whatever the hell was doing that. “Don’t worry about it.”
They passed through the gatehouse side by side. After passing the portcullis, metal scraped across stone behind them. It had closed again—probably for the best.
Gramok waved, standing safely out of range of the traps. How much to tell him? The cost, at least, required no explanation. No Dispel going in, no Dispel going out. No need to mention that.
Cara stared, her head slowly tilting to the side. “How does his armor still glisten like that? It’s almost dark.”
Would he want people talking about him? “If you’d like to know about Gramok, ask him.” Ted self-cast Absorb and poked his head out, just enough to look up. “These traps are offline as well.”
“Off network?”
Right—Common, not English. No railways, no internet, no electricity. “I mean they’re disabled.”
“Ah!” She grinned and bounded forward. “Hey Gramok!”
Ted tensed up, but the traps stayed dead. Even so, he glanced over his shoulder as he scurried after her.
“Victorious adventurers return?”
Cara nodded emphatically. “Victorious indeed!” She bounced up to the tree Gramok was leaning against, flopped down beside it, and pulled the nest from her pack.
Squeak! Squeak!
Ted took a final glance back at the temple. Still no activity from the traps, and now they were out of range. Weight lifted off his shoulders. “The dungeon’s clear. Not much loot, but I learned a new skill.”
“Nice!” Gramok’s gauntleted hands clattered together. “Quest complete, then! Learn any new magic?”
Clear the Order of the Battlemage Temple completed.
5,000 XP received!
Ted’s breath caught. The truth wasn’t an option.
Wait! He still had the amulet. It wouldn’t be Dispel, but a message effect would be handy. Ted forced out a smile. “Maybe. I’ll have to get back to you on that. I did pick up a new ability, though.”
“Huzzah! You’ll have to tell me all about it—on our way back. This place gives me the creeps.”
Ted looked back one last time at the temple-keep, thinking about all those battlemage dungeon spawn self-immolating. “Yeah, me too. Let’s go.”
Gramok strode ahead, no doubt thinking about all the food awaiting him. Cara skipped beside him, humming away. From time to time, Gramok would shush her, but it never held for long. After a short while, with the light fading, Gramok pulled out a magic lantern from his pack and let its warm light illuminate the way.
The System. Ted’s ribcage clenched around his heart. His father. Places even gods couldn’t see. How did it all fit together?
Was Death really as trapped as he claimed, or was this a game to him? He clearly enjoyed toying with his prey, and took far too much pleasure in his work.
Was anyone in this world really free? Contradictions that they couldn’t see. Knowledge that they couldn’t learn. Something—or someone—pulled them back whenever they crossed a line.
But not Ted.
Ted swallowed. Would he know? They didn’t. Why should he?
Common came as easily as English, and it felt so damned natural. Determining where his skills ended and he began was fast approaching impossible, and he knew about those. How could he possibly tell if an unknown force was affecting him?
Fuck it. The burger had been right there. He might as well have enjoyed it.
Ted snorted. No, the smug satisfaction that would have given Death would never have been worth it. Death enjoyed power too much, and so far, he didn’t seem to have all that much of it, beyond sending Heroes back from the Dead. And even that had rules he couldn’t break.
Men like that craved power and never gave it back—it was best not to give them any in the first place. Ted sighed. Knowledge was power, and Death had that, if nothing else. What was it Death had said?
“Something changed, but not what was supposed to.”
Thirteen, fourteen years ago. About when the first Divine Emperor in ten thousand years had gone from not existing to having been on the throne for as long as anyone could remember.
Fingernails bit into Ted’s palms. About when he’d been—
When…
He exhaled, and unclenched his fists. The past was the past. It was done, nothing could change that. He had to deal with the here and now.
“So, what’s the plan now, Ranger Ted?”
A jolt jumped through him. He blinked. How long had she been alongside him again?
Deep breaths. Short in, long out. Repeat.
He was safe. It was just Cara. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous ‘Ranger Ted’ sounds?”
“Yes.” She leaned in and dropped down to a whisper. “And I like it.”
His heart refused to stop racing. “Why?”
She paused. Her gaze turned away, and her shoulders swayed as she walked.
Ted scanned the horizon. The dying light of the sun barely illuminated the crop fields—if anything was out there, he wouldn’t see it.
He took another long, deep breath. This area was relatively safe, especially with the dungeon cleared. If anything was out there, Cara would spot it, and the three of them could handle it.
Cara’s arm brushed against his. “For the record, I didn’t even Stealth. You need to pay more attention. Perception won’t do the work for you.”
“It won’t.” Warmth fluttered in Ted’s chest, and he grinned. “That’s what I have you for.”
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She punched his arm. “I’m serious! I can’t see everything.”
“You’re right.” Was it worth it? Yeah, it was worth it. “But I’m not scared of your hairbrush.”
The second punch hit the exact same spot, harder this time.
Still worth it.
Gramok turned, hushing them with a glare.
Ted nodded, and went silent. Right. Dungeon spawn weren’t the only kind of monster around here.
Soon enough they reached the village, and Gramok led them straight into the tavern. They received a few looks, but less than Ted had expected, given the last time they were here.
Gramok ordered a round of drinks. When they came, he raised his enormous pewter tankard and slammed his fist down onto the bar three times, hushing the tavern down to a mere din. “The ruins are cleared, the dungeon spawn slain! Tonight, we drink to the heroes of the hour—Ted and Cara!”
Ice gripped Ted’s heart even as a cheer rippled through the tavern, followed by a barrage of loud drinking.
He exchanged a glance with Cara. Her face was white, her lips pressed together.
Gramok slammed his tankard down on the bar. “Another!” He turned to Ted, to Cara, and back to Ted. “You both look like you’ve seen Dromagar himself. It’s a celebration, drink!”
The stocky bartender poured more of the green fizzling liquid into Gramok’s tankard, enough to fill a small ocean. She eyed up the two much smaller, and still very full, tankards upon the bar. “You two drink and sleep on the house tonight. Live a little!”
Gramok leaned over the table, flashing a huge grin. “What, me?”
She laughed. “That would bankrupt me, Ten Flagon! I’ll put it on your father’s tab, though, so don’t stop drinking! The danger fees he’ll add to next week’s shipment won’t pay for themselves.”
Another patron called out, “Tindo!” She shook her head, grabbed a flagon from the back counter, and made her way along the bar.
Ted turned to Gramok and smirked. “Ten Flagon?”
“I was younger then.”
Cara leaned against the bar and clutched her drink. “How much younger?”
“There might have been a bet involved.” Gramok grimaced. “I won, but, well…” He pointed up.
Wooden planks were nailed to the roof. Ted blinked. That one time he’d hadn’t stopped at two—or three, four, five, or six—didn’t look so bad anymore. “How the hell…?”
Gramok shrugged and quaffed his tindovarg. “Long story.”
Cara took a swig and licked her lips. “We have time!”
“Fine, fine.” A smirk spread across Gramok’s lips. “I’ll tell you—but I want an equally embarrassing story from both of you afterward.”
“Oh.” Cara shrank away and pulled her tankard tight to her chest. “I don’t have any embarrassing stories.”
“Really?” Flutters filled Ted’s chest. He took a nice, big sip of his drink. The bitterness wasn’t so bad, once you got to know it better.
A slight shake of her head, silently begging him to silence.
Ted shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t say anything. I’d be a shit friend if I did. A shame—one of the stories really hits the mark. An award-winning story, one might say.”
She leaned into him and her eyes narrowed, daring him to say any more.
He laughed, and changed the subject, telling Gramok all about how they’d progressed in the ruins.
Well, most of it, anyway.
Cara beamed with pride at the part about her dancing with fire. Gramok laughed at the part about kiting the skeletons to death.
With that, it was all too easy to goad Gramok into talking about his own exploits, all of which seemed more than a little embellished.
And there were so, so many of them, each accompanied by ample drinking and gesturing and even a little of what could, generously, be called singing.
As the audience around him grew, the tales only became more extravagant. Or perhaps that was simply the result of his ever-growing alcohol consumption.
Ted shook his head, unable to turn away from the train wreck in motion. “How is he even still standing?”
Cara shrugged. “Because of the booze, or the injuries?”
“Good question.” He cocked his head. Everything was a little slow and fuzzy. “Both, I guess?”
“Orc racials? Seventeen Endurance?” She rested her head on Ted’s shoulder. “Even with that, I’ve no idea how he’s still going.”
Yet, somehow, Gramok had a young orc woman on his arm, laughing along, hanging on his every word. After another couple of drinks, Gramok looked their way and waved, before heading off with the woman.
A tug pulled at Ted’s stomach. No train wreck this time. His jaw clenched. How did Gramok do it?
Ted shrugged. Given their stats, he couldn’t even blame the difference on Personality. “I think that means he’ll see us in the morning.”
“That, or it was a cry for help. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Ted giggled as tiny little teeth nibbled at his earlobe. He pressed his tankard against his lips and upended it, rewarded with nothing more than a dribble. A confused frown spread across his forehead. “I’m out?”
Right on cue, Fen—the best damned bartender in two worlds—reappeared, flagon in hand.
“No.” He held his hand over his empty tankard. “I’m done for the night.”
She shrugged and switched for a flagon barely touched all night. “I won’t talk you into free booze, but drink this.” She hovered above his covered tankard, ready to pour. “Trust me—you’ll thank me in the morning.”
Ted tugged at his bottom lip. She hadn’t led them wrong yet. He moved his hand, and crystal-clear water flowed into his tankard. He tilted his head, blurry thoughts arranging themselves in his mind. “You want the heroes of the hour to keep drinking.”
Another shrug. “You humans need your water, they need their booze, I need their money. Everyone wins!”
He snorted. When was that ever true?
***
The next day, Ted and Cara sat in the tavern, waiting for Gramok to rise.
Cara stared at Ted for a while, something clearly on her mind. “What do think he meant? Calling us Heroes of the hour?”
Ted shrugged. Did it really matter? “Maybe they’re not so hung up on Heroes? It was a long time ago.”
“After everything they did? They slaughtered everyone, not just wood elves!” Cara’s clenched fists darted behind her back and she plastered on a smile. “Good morning, Gramok!”
“Morning!” His voice bellowed, but he clutched his side. “Hope you guys had a lovely evening. Ready for breakfast?”
Breakfast? Cara met Ted’s gaze and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t taking this one.
Guess it falls to me. “We had breakfast hours ago.”
Gramok glanced outside, the sun clearly high in the sky. “Ah. Right.” A moment’s pause, and that grin was back. “Lunch then?”
“Sure, whatever.” Ted bit at his lip, trying to think how to probe it without giving away the truth. “Last night… you called us the heroes of the hour?”
“Quite so! Are you not?” Gramok froze. His eyes closed, and he looked away, shaking his head. “Yunkatran. You elves are still hung up on the Age of Heroes, aren’t you?”
Cara’s eyes narrowed. “Wood Elves.”
“They’re all long gone or dead! What does it matter? They were mighty warriors. You are mighty warriors.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean offense by it.” The silence dragged out, and he chuckled. “I guess all those cultural etiquette classes didn’t really pay off.”
Ted looked around. The coast was clear. It wouldn’t get any easier. He moved closer. “What if I was a Hero?”
There was a long pause. Had it been a mistake?
Gramok laughed and clapped him on the back. “That’s a good one. You nearly had me!”
Level 6 yesterday, almost level 8 today. Ted bit his lip. Gramok would figure it out soon enough, anyway. “I mean it. I died from my wounds in that temple, after clearing it.”
“You come back from the dead?” Gramok clutched his belly and roared with laughter. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Would have saved me a lot of worrying. Maybe I’d even have a few of those sandwiches left. No wonder you think you stand a chance!”
Ted blinked. He hadn’t planned for this. “It doesn’t… bother you?”
Gramok continued chuckling and clapped Ted on the back. “Enough with the tall tales, I wasn’t born yesterday. Let’s grab some food and get going.”
Ah.
Ted’s heart sank. Teach me to get excited.
He decided to let the matter lie, for now at least. Given time, assuming they stayed together, Gramok would realize it had to be truth, and having told him early could only soften the blow.
After a very hurried brunch, at which Gramok insisted on buying everyone extra meat and bread, they headed north, up the main road. It was paved and wide enough for two wagons, a welcome relief for Ted. An actual road, even if it wasn't smooth like asphalt.
That didn’t stop Cara from skipping barefoot in the dirt beside the road, singing an Orcish drinking song with more than questionable pronunciation. Worse, sometimes Gramok joined in, equally as enthusiastic.
Try as he might, Ted still couldn’t tell whether Gramok was a terrible singer, or orcish songs were meant to sound like a gate being broken in by a battering ram.
He bit his tongue and said nothing. Three days of this, at the very least. Maybe coming back from the dead wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“So, Gramok,” Ted shouted, bringing the guttural singing to a pause, “what do you know about the Ruins of Tarkath?”
“Not a lot.” Gramok scratched his head. “Old dwarven city, used to be really big in runic enchanting until we clobbered it during the Age of Heroes. Now it’s pretty much just one big dungeon, with a boring little town above it. Legend has it there are Zelnari ruins beneath it all, but no one’s crazy enough to go down there to check.”
“Orcs destroyed the city?” And we’re heading there? Ted frowned. He had to be missing something. “Don’t they like to hold on to grudges?”
“Hold on to grudges? Nah.”
Coiled muscles relaxed. “Good. You had me worried there.”
“Holding onto a grudge for ten thousand years is hard work. Chiseling it into rock is much more efficient.”
The tension in Ted’s chest ramped right back up again. “Is that… Are you joking?”
Gramok shrugged. “They don’t let orcs like me see those tablets, I’m afraid.”
“Do they hold grudges or not?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe! But—and it’s a big but, you can’t not like it—my family does a lot of business with them. Dwarves hate to mix business and pleasure.”
“Right.” Ted bit his lip. Was that supposed to be reassuring?
“They’re not so bad, just don’t expect a warm welcome. Never do, with dwarves, not unless they count you amongst their friends. Valbort’ll be cold, but they won’t kill you. It’s the ruins below you should be worried about.”
“How very comforting. I don’t suppose you know much about the Zelnari?”
Gramok shook his head. “No one does. I always figured they were a tale to frighten little kids at night, like Heroes. Archeology’s your business. I’ll stick to stabbing things with a side order of smack downs.”
They traveled along the road until sundown, making good pace. They passed a small village, but Gramok said to push on. With his injuries on the mend, he’d be able to help fight off any bandits that attacked us, and he knew a good spot.
He wasn’t wrong, either. He led them a few minutes off the main road to a cave, its entrance hidden away by the rocks and foliage. Inside was spacious, with a fire pit in the middle. Above was a small opening in the roof, wide enough for smoke to escape but too narrow for bandits to come down.
Cara quickly got a fire going, using kindling from her pack and the same training Firestarter spell that Ted had learned. “Not a bad place.”
Ted rubbed his hands together and warmed them over the campfire. “Thanks, Gramok. We’d never have found this cave without you.”
Cara looked up, and Nibbles darted up onto her head. “Speak for yourself, Ted ‘Four Perception’ Tolabar.”
Squeak! Squeak!
“That’s Ted ‘Four Perception’ Tolabar So’aroaska, thank you very much.”
“I dunno. Can you really call yourself a ranger with those stats?”
Gramok leaned back and laughed.
“Alright.” Ted squared up to Cara and flexed what little muscle he had. “I challenge you to a one-minute race or an arm wrestle, your choice.”
“Sure.” She followed suit and grinned, her toned body rather more impressive. “No magic or bullshit battlemage abilities.”
“When you put it like that…” Ted pressed his lips together tight. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Could I teach you the Dispel effect somehow, without casting it?”
Cara tilted her head and her face scrunched up. “Could you write it down? I could try learning from that.”
Gramok shook his head. “He can’t.”
Heat rose in Ted’s chest. “How do you know I can’t?”
“Is your Spellcrafting level 10 yet?”
Fuck. His heart sank. “It’s a Specialization, isn’t it?”
“Yup. Finding Spellcrafters is bad enough. The rate specialists charge is daylight robbery.” Gramok paused and shrugged. “Guess it has to be, given how often they blow themselves up. Incidentally, if you ever give up adventuring, I could hook you up with a small fortune.”
Ted snorted. “Good to know I have a marketable skill. Shame I have to save the world first.”
Gramok grunted. “Alright, Cara, you should take first watch. Ted, we need to talk.”