Jack saw Chi fall away from the mirror and shot out of his chair like a cannonball. He was skidding beneath her on his knees even as she fell, catching her beneath her wings and cushioning her head against his shoulder.

“Whoah!” Jonkins spat as he leaned back, his head twisting to follow. “Fast for a rank eleven, ain’t he?”

“Motivated,” Bob replied.

Chi’s eyes opened to Jack’s worried face held very close. “My hero,” she whispered tiredly, a wan smile on her lips. “You’re going to need to learn about wings, though. Ow.”

He leaned down and kissed her quiet, showing her that she’d won, and that he was ready to accept her as she was.

“Could you maybe put me to bed?” she asked when he’d come up for air. “I’m wicked tired.”

He shook his head. “Wandering bird showed up about half an hour ago,” he told her. “With a message for you. Take a wild guess who it’s from.”

Her eyes popped wide as a surge of adrenaline coursed painfully through her body. You’re needed, she remembered the god saying. “Help me up, then, Hero,” she grunted, struggling to rise from the floor.

He helped her up and led her to the table. She snatched up the scroll and split the seal with one sharp nail. It was from Rosaluna, alright, although the penmanship wasn’t as crisp as the previous example.

Iktchi-Chi,

I will make this short. There is an emergency situation at my cottage. You must return here as fast as you may. Only you may solve this. Find Jackson, he is needed as well.

If you understand the walking of the wandering way, it would be best for you to use it here, for time is of the utmost. Mohrdrand has potions for sale that will replenish your mana as you travel, which you will need when dragging another along with you.

Failing that, make your utmost haste by the next swiftest mode.

RG

P.S. While at Mohrdrand’s villa, securing a number of high grade healing elixers would not be amiss.

“What is she thinking,” Chi suppressed the urge to crumple the scroll. “I obviously don’t know the wandering way. It’s a thing specific to Mund, and I’ve had no one to teach me, have I?”

She handed the scroll to Jack, who read through it quickly, eyes sharp.

“Those things work?” he asked before even he’d finished, chucking his head behind her.

“My wings?” she narrowed her eyes. “Of course they work!”

“Quick?” he asked, looking up now.

“Enough,” she said.

“Then, go,” he said. “Fly. You can make it in one go, right?”

“I can,” she said. “But what about you? Aren’t you coming?? She asked for you specifically.”

He nodded, fishing through his belt pouch and withdrawing several large bottles filled with a deep red, almost burgundy liquid. “Here,” he passed them over. “All I have on me at the moment. You should maybe chug one before you leave, you look exhausted. I’ll be right behind you.”

She took the five bottles as he passed them over, raising an eyebrow. “You carry this much on you?” she wondered. “What sorts of shenanigans have you been getting yourself up to that you need so many?”

“Go,” he shooed her off with one hand. “We can discuss this later. If the old woman is asking for help with such urgency, it’s got to be pretty dire.”

Nodding, she stuffed four of the bottles into her bag and leaned forward for a parting kiss. She was turning for the door even as their lips parted, tilting the fifth potion to her mouth as she walked. She’d barely cleared the porch before taking to the air.

Jonkins watched her initial leap and shook his head. “Wonder what sorts of rumors I’ll have to deal with after that?” he asked himself.

“I wouldn’t worry all that much,” Bob grinned a toothy doggy grin. “After the show the two of them put on earlier, the whole town no doubt already knows she was here, and that they’re connected. By morning, the betting will probably be even money whether he’s run her off or succeeded in satisfying her lust.”

“Shut it!” Jack ordered scowling. “Bor, where’s Tig?”

Jonkins shrugged. “He should have had the girls back by now,” he ruminated. “Unless he was one of the crowd you gathered and decided to steer clear. He’s a smart kid, and won’t want anything to do with demons can he help it.”

The comment made it about three quarters of the way past Jack before he caught it and shifted his scowl from Bob to the guildmaster. “Har, de friggin' har, har,” he growled. “I’m gonna need four of my horses gathered up and brought to Mohrdrand’s villa. I need to tell you which horses?’

Jonkins shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But you know that you’re talking two teams with different gaits, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack told him. “That’s factored in, or so I’m told.”

Jonkins shivered. He’d heard all about that crazy speedwagon thing from Cable, and couldn’t imagine climbing aboard deliberately, let alone with four horses powering it.

“If you’re going to see the wizard anyway,” he wondered. “Why not just have him drag you along the wandering way?”

Jack gave him the evil eye. “Because I suspect the request for healing potions means somebody’s hurt pretty bad,” he said. “And if they’re hurt to the point Rosaluna can’t heal them without help, they must be really bad off. So I’m planning on conning the old boy into coming along with me. And bringing the wizard won’t do me much good if he’s exhausted and mana depleted when he arrives.

“Now, are you gonna—”

Tiglund chose that moment to stick his head in through the front door. “Is it safe?” he asked the room at large. “Only the one demon was here?”

“Oh, for...” Jack grumbled. “Get in here, you! You’re safe from the scawy wed gurl.”

“You say that like she ain’t,” Tiglund shot back before ducking out the door.

He returned a minute later with Millie and Juniper, the two orphaned farm girls who’d been living and working at the guild hall since being rescued from bandits some months back

So Jack got to repeat the request to gather his horses, and bring them to Mohrdrand’s villa.

Tig nodded. “Just so long as I don’t have to ride in that thing.” He gave Millie a peck on the cheek and headed for the back door and the stable beyond.

Nodding, Jack headed up to the second floor and his room, where he’d moved once he’d completed his recovery and the old wizard had effectively thrown him out.

* * *

It was growing late by the time Jack had reached the old wizard’s villa. Late enough that the old guy might already have called it a night. Yeah, right!

Jack didn’t even bother with the front entry, coming around through the rear alley instead. Mohrdrand had a huge, barnlike workshop in his walled in yard where he spent most of his nights tinkering well into the wee hours on things he should probably reserve for hours of alertness.

Given he was one of about five people in the region who knew how to get in through the back gate, Jack opened it and stuck his head through. “Mohrdrand!” he called with considerable volume. “Mohrdrand!”

After a minute or two of silence, the old wizard stumped out of his workshop, a ball of luminescence hanging overhead and his voluminous sleeves pinned back to expose his arms. “What is it, Jackson Grenell?” his voice was less than enthused at this interruption.

“Need to commission the Runstable’s,” Jack called.

Mohrdrand stopped in his tracks, eyes going narrow. “Right,” he called back. “Because you’re—”

“I’m serious, Mohrdrand,” Jack pressed. “There’s something going on at Rosaluna’s cottage, and I need to get out there quick.”

The old wizard waved him in, one hand going to his chin to stroke his silver streaked beard. “And it’s bad enough to use the Runstable’s?” he asked, his voice conveying disbelief. “If so, wouldn’t we be better going through the wandering way?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Good, Jack thought. You're already thinking ‘we’. That’s half the battle already. “I’ve got four horses on the way,” he said as he drew near the old man.

Mohrdrand’s eyes widened and his face perked up as he straightened his back. “Four?” he couldn’t conceal his surge of eagerness. He’d been trying to talk Jackson into loaning him those horses for weeks.

“And they’re real draft horses, too,” Jack sweetened the pot. “Not just regular farm horses trained to harness.”

As if Mohrdrand hadn’t already known. “Still,” the wizard stroked his chin. “If haste is that important...”

“You ever gone faster than that two horse hitch you ran last time?” Jack broke into his introspection. “I have,” he grinned. “Back home, we used to travel way faster. Five or six times faster sometimes.”

“Five or six times? Mohrdrand raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” Jack temporized. “Double on the regular, but I have gotten up to five fairly often.” He neglected to inform the old wizard it had been in the backs of military helicopters, and hundreds of feet in the air.

Still, Mohrdrand thought. Seventy miles per hour? What must that be like? And we’d still be arriving at Rosaluna’s cottage within a couple of hours.

“While you’re considering it,” Jack veered towards the residence, “I’m gonna grab five more Grand Elixirs of Life and a couple of Greater Mana potions. My tab is still running, right?”

All trace of eagerness vanished from Mohrdrand’s face, and he turned to face Jack’s retreating back. “Hold, you young mountebank!” he stabbed a finger in the younger man’s direction.

Jack hunched his back and turned. Too soon, I guess, he thought. Should have gotten him completely hooked first. “Yes?” He tried to sound innocent without much success. Old man’s perception stat was waay too high.

“I just sold you five Grand Elixirs of Life three days ago,” the wizard accused. “What happened to them? You’ve been in Mokkelton the entire time. Did you fall face first down a well or something equally foolish?”

Jack shrugged and held his hands out to his sides, palms up. “Gave them away, to be honest,” he said.

Mohrdrand clearly didn’t believe him. “Ten gold rondels worth of potions?” he sounded dubious. “And you just... gave them away? Go,” he said then. “I’ll have figured out your deception by the time you return.”

“You wound me, Mohrdrand,” Jack smiled as he turned back for the residence.

“There are seven of the healing elixir and eight of the mana,” Mohrdrand called to his back just as he reached for the latch. “You may as well bring them all.”

Jack paused and turned to regard the old wizard, who was already on his way to the speedwagon. “Damn, but that old fart’s sharp,” he whispered to himself, chuckling.

He wrote the entirety of his purchase down in the shop’s book, having finally learned to read and write Tandrian in addition to speaking it, although his penmanship still stank. The fact that he was still pretty drunk didn’t help.

He took the opportunity to swill down the foul-tasting Cure Poison (Lesser) potion, feeling his head begin to clear almost immediately.

Tiglund had arrived with the horses before Jack had finished gathering supplies, and was already loading the first team into the lead motive wagon and harnessing them in. He moved with surprising swiftness considering he’d only done this twice before.

Mohrdrand climbed into the passenger coach and, amidst a great deal of waving shouting, and false starts, managed, eventually to get the lead elements of the Runstable’s meshed with one of the other three motive wagons.

Given this was the first time he’d ever managed to find anyone gullible enough... that is to say, motivated enough, to give him two teams to work with, there was a great deal of consulting with the documentation of the wagon as the old wizard calibrated the varying gaits of the lead team while Tiglund loaded the hind team into their wagon. Then he had to repeat the process with that team.

Needless to say, it took far longer to make the coach ready than it had when they’d set off in it to rescue Jack from his folly up north.

Tiglund was halfway to the gate when Jack stopped him. “Tig?”

Tiglund turned, and the instant he beheld the expression on the hero’s face, held both hands up and out, as though fending him off. “No!” he said as he continued to back towards the gate and imminent safety. “Absolutely not! I’ve heard far too much about that rolling dungeon to want anything more to do with it than loading the horses.”

“There’s trouble at Rosaluna’s cottage,” Jack told him seriously. “We’re on our way to help. That means that we’ll be very busy once we arrive. Somebody else will have to unhook the horses and let them out to graze. And you’re the only one within miles who knows how its done.”

Tiglund shook his head violently. “No! I told you. I’m not doing it.”

“I’m swearing out a quest bounty,” Jack told him. “Here and now. We can record it at the guild while Mohrdrand’s finishing his calibrations. One gold rondel to accompany us and take care of the horses. How ‘bout it?”

Tig shuffled to a stop, just short of the gate. “Are you mad?” his voice rose a couple of octaves. “A gold rondel for taking care of horses? That’s... that’s...” but then his brain caught up. “That’s not for the horses, is it?” he demanded. “That’s to entice me into submitting myself to that—”

“One gold rondel, two gold reals, and a gold common,” Jack smiled.

Tiglund scowled, ducking his head between his shoulders. He could buy that warded carriage he’d been looking at and a decent ambler to pull it with that much gold. Millie would love riding through the countryside in that. One-and-a-half gold rondels was a rank twenty reward for a rank one bounty. Well, rank one but for the cursed wagon.

“I’ll pay you back for this some day, sentinel,” he growled, scuffing forward as though to his own imminent execution.

“Of course you will, Tig,” Jack smiled. "Some day."

* * *

Back at the guild hall, and in even more of a hurry, Jack signed out the bounty, having the funds pulled from his account to cover the reward.

“You comin’?” he wondered of Bob as he was heading for the door.

“I suppose I’d better,” Bob groused as he lapped up the dregs of his latest ale. “No telling what sort of mischief you’d get up to without me.

* * *

Bob had been trotting along in the lead until they rounded Mohrdrand’s rear gate and entered the yard. He stopped short so quickly that Jack tripped over him and nearly went down, windmilling his arms and staggering several paces before he could stop himself.

“The hell, you four legged bollard?” he yelped.

Bob didn’t answer. He was staring at the Runstable’s. He’d heard them speaking of this menace from time to time, but this was the first time he’d lain eyes on it in its active state. He was struggling to envision what sort of suicidal maniac could imagine such a thing. And they were going to deliberately board it and hie themselves off across the land? Not him!

“I’m not getting in that deathtrap,” he informed Jack. “And I’d strongly advise... no, I insist that you don’t either.”

Jack gave him the eye. “Not you, too,” he put hand to forehead. “It’ll be fine.” He turned to the speedwagon and looked it over, himself seeing it active for only the first time. He deliberately suppressed his Ascertain special skill as he did so. The last thing he wanted was to understand how the vehicle worked. Everyone who did know was mortally afraid of it. Except, of course, for the lunatic who'd built it.

Mohrdrand was standing beside the forward passenger coach door, pouring over a thick, leather bound book, its pages liberally slathered with bookmarks, torn bits of paper, or even hanks of hair, seemingly snipped from his beard.

Jack took a deep breath, settled his belt pouch against his hip, made sure FoeSmite was still protruding from the secondary compartment sufficiently to be easy to hand, but not so far as to be in the way, and waved, calling out, “You about ready?”

Mohrdrand looked up. “Aye,” he called back. “As ready as can be expected.”

Tiglund started his turn to leave, but Jack grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him along.

Despite his efforts to the contrary, Jack was getting a sort of vague impression of how the Runstable’s worked, and had to admit to himself that its principles seemed sound. Then again, Ascertain, while it told him the principles behind the various spells, didn’t explain where the spells had come from.

He supposed that must be the difference. He could tell they were dark in nature, most of them, but without any context or active study of the construction, that was all he got.

He brought up beside Mohrdrand and allowed the old wizard to show him the interior. Again, while they’d discussed the device more than a few times, this was his first physical contact with it. He was surprised to find how normal the cabin appeared.

“Oh,” he said, looking it over. “I was expecting something more complicated and... I dunno, alien.”

“Wait,” Mohrdrand asked. “Are you telling me it’s not?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, I suppose to somebody from Mund it probably is,” he said. “I mean, it was obviously designed by somebody from Earth, right?”

“I, ah, don’t believe so,” the old wizard canted his head to one side. “No. In fact, I know for certain that the artificer who designed it originally was one hundred percent mundian.”

“Hmm,” Jack frowned. “And he didn’t know anybody from Earth either, I suppose?”

“He was a member of the hero’s party,” the wizard admitted. “The Sixth Hero.”

Jack thought about that for a minute. “About sixty years ago, then?” he asked. “Solidly into the era of musclecars on Earth.” As if to prove his point, he gestured inside the cab. "Controls are on the right, in keeping with his probably having been Japanese. Where I come from, they put them on the left.

“That pedal,” he pointed to the rightmost of the three pedals at the forward edge of the floorboard, “makes it move. That one,” he pointed to the center pedal, "makes it slow or stop. And that one,” he pointed to the left most, “disengages some sort of gearing so that you can stir that long stick in the middle around and change ratios. Am I close?”

“You’re saying you can pilot this device?” Mohrdrand asked skeptically.

Jack shrugged. “Probably. With a few instructions regarding shift points and progression. Those gauges up on that dashboard’ll tell me those, right? Once I understand the limits?”

Mohrdrand frowned, his eyes nearly closing. “Are you willing to pilot? I can inform you of what to do as we progress. And you say you have driven something similar at great speeds before?”

Jack slapped him on the shoulder. “My pickup has a five speed manual,” he reassured the old wizard. “I put it up past eighty every day on the interstate. Or did, anyway.”

“But I’m driving back,” Mohrdrand insisted. “When we’re not in such a hurry.”

Jack gave him a bow, and waved him up. He wasn’t about to try and pilot such a strange vehicle through the narrow confines of the city streets without at least a token demonstration.

Once they breached the gate and were outside, Jack and Mohrdrand swapped seats. Jack had been paying attention on their journey through Mokkelton, so he was ready to go. “You call out the shift points,” he ordered. “And let me know if I’m pushing too hard.”

The wizard nodded, and Jack eased them into motion.

The road wasn’t altogether wide enough for the Runstable’s and anything it was likely to meet, which was a potential problem. On the other hand, it was full dark, so they were unlikely to run across anything legitimately occupying the road with them.

The cabin was fully darkened per Jack’s suggestion, but as they gained speed, the pallor of Mohrdrand’s skin began to shine. Jack gave him a sideways glance, then checked the speedometer. They were barely doing thirty-two lenn. That was, what? around forty-eight, forty-nine miles per hour? And he still had, by the wizard’s own assurances, plenty of speed left. If this was getting to him, what would top speed do?

One huge problem, however, was that, while they were rolling four horses fast, the headlights were still only throwing two horses of light.

“There anything you can do about giving us a little more light out there?” Jack inquired as casually as he could make himself sound. He was using a combination of perception, detect life, and a running navigational commentary from Bob to augment the insufficient illumination cast by the lights and keep to the road. The fact that the corgi was standing in Jack’s lap with his paws on the door and his head out the window, tongue lolling and slobber flying, only made it worse.

Mohrdrand called forth a small globe of illumination, but before Jack could say something biting, he hauled out his manual and began to pour over it. After a few minutes that seemed much longer, he touched what Jack had assumed was an ornamental brass fitting on the wooden dashboard and muttered a few words. The headlights doubled their intensity, now throwing long beams more than a hundred-twenty feet in front of the speeding coach.

“Now we’re talking,” Jack laughed as he pressed down on the accelerator.

Tiglund, meanwhile, was in the back curled up small and pretending he was hiding from a starving dragon.