Back to Town​

Marienne never returned.

Lee and I gave her a few more hours, waiting until noon, but there was no sight or sound of the sorceress.

Huh, I guess Lee was right and the trogs did get her. That’s what you get for being overconfident.

Rest in peace, Marienne.

Lee and I packed up and quickly made our way back to the river. The day was drier than usual, so the usual muddy tracks didn’t hinder us as much. We made it to our destination much quicker than we did heading out. As promised, the old man with the boat was waiting at the same spot he dropped us off at.

“About time,” he said. “I was just about to head off without ya. Where’s the young lady that was with you?”

“Didn’t make it,” I told him.

The old man shook his head, then began to push the barge off the river bank. “Shame, shame,” was all he said as he steered the boat into the currents.

Three hours later we were back in Wayfaire. The dingy, ramshackle town looked like paradise to us after three days of having lived in the swamps.

The dwarf not-sheriff, Brogund, met us at the gates.

“Well, look who it is,” he said as we entered the town. “If it isn’t our two newcomers comin’ back from the deep swamps. You know, me and the boys made a wager on whether or not you guys would ever come back from your first foray into the Wetlands.”

“Oh? And what outcome did you wager on?” I asked.

The short man laughed. “Well, luckily for me, I bet on you folk comin’ back. Though, I may not be getting the full pot.” He looked from between me and Lee. “What happened to that pretty young gal that left with you?”

I merely shrugged. “Your guess is as good as ours. We got separated. She never showed back up.”

“That’s a cryin’ shame.” Brogund shook his head. “Not too many women in Wayfaire. It’s always a tragedy when one of them don’t make it.”

“Yeah. If you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to the guild.”

We made to move past him, but the dwarf stopped us. “Just one moment, please. I just need to ask you one more thing. Not too long after you left town, a large group of men left soon afterward, led by this giant of a man. You couldn’t miss him on account of his wearing a suit of red plate armor.” He took a long glance at the cuirass and bracers I was wearing. “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to that party now, would you?”

Damn. I looked over to Lee, who still had a lopsided grin on his face. He merely shrugged at the short man’s question. “Golly, gee. Iffen you mean the big man with scars all over his face, yeah, we met him. And his friends. The whole group of them tried to waylay us at the ruins. We barely escaped with our lives.”

“Is that right now?” asked the dwarf.

“Yesh,” I said. “A bunch of bushwacking bashtards, the lot of ‘em. They deserved everything they got. And after trying to take our lives, I figured the least they could do ish give us their valuables.” I tapped the armor on my chest.

“I see,” Brogund said, staring me in the eye. I didn’t blink. “Well, I’m glad you made it back safely then. That big guy with the red armor was a fellow by the name of Gordon Gaddows. He has quite the reputation.” The short lawman chuckled. “By taking him down, I suppose you two will get quite the rep yourselves.”

I grunted. Frankly, I could live without any more infamy being linked to my name.

After a few more minutes of small talk, the little lawman let us be on our way. We headed straight for the Tawdry Maid, eager to collect our reward. We found that the bar was just as crowded as before, with various members of the Adventuring Guild relaxing about.

The bartender was different from when I was last here. He was skinnier, with swept-back brown hair and a darker complexion. The man greeted us with a nod as we approached. “Greetings. Care for a drink?”

“Not now,” I said. “We’re back from a job, and here to turn in some scientific trinketsh.” Lee took off his heavy pack then plunked it down atop the bar. The various gizmos inside rattled and shook.

“Oh yeah, you’re that lizard that took the swamp ruin job. I heard about you.” The man smiled. He took hold of the bag and opened it, reaching inside to examine the various implements the scholars had left in the mud. “Some of these are damaged. The client isn’t going to be too happy.”

I grunted. “I somehow doubt that’s our problem.”

“Hmph, true enough.” The man tied up the bag and set it aside underneath the bar. “Let me get your payment.”

The barkeep left the bar and hustled over into a back room. A few minutes passed, and soon the man came back with a heavy leather purse in his right hand.

“Here you go,” he said, handing us some coins from the purse he carried.

I stopped to count them. It only took a few moments, and in the end, I did not like the result of said counting.

“There’sh only 180 silver here.” I tilted my head up from the coins to look the barman dead in the eyes. “The job said it paid three hundred.”

“Guild fees,” he said with a shrug as if those two words alone would explain everything.

“That’s bullshit!” I snarled, slamming my fist loudly upon the counter. All eyes in the saloon quickly turned towards us.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the barkeep held up his hands in a placating gesture. “But the guild has a right to take its fair share. If you were a member of the guild then your cut would have been larger, but as you aren’t…”

“Why you-” I was just about to reach over and drag the bartender over the counter when I felt Lee place a hand on my shoulder.

“I think we should take the money and go,” he said while nodding towards the large crowd that was forming around us.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw the people there were standing tensely, hands on their weapons, waiting for an altercation to happen. Damn it. A mob was just about forming.

I snatched up the proferred payment and snarled. “Thish is the last time I ever take a guild job!” I quickly stormed through the crowd, shoving many adventurers none too gently out of my way. Lee followed me through.

“Dammit!” I cursed as soon as I exited the tavern. I kicked at the dirt and snarled at the wind.

“Easy, partner,” Lee said. “There’s no need to throw a fit.”

“A hundred and eighty is a shit reward compared to how much work we put in!” I shouted. “Those yellow belly bastardsh sitting there in the saloon while we do all the work. A hundred and eighty silver! They might as well as robbed ush blind!”

Lee tilted his head sideways as he watched me fume. “Although it is true that their cut was a might bit too large, there’s nothing we can do about it.” He smiled and shrugged. “Look on the bright side: we still got quite the haul from Gaddows and his goons. Selling that boon will definitely net us more than three hundred silver.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I shook my head, then spat on the ground. “Damn guild shtill burns my bacon. Last time I ever do something for them.” I reached into my pocket, then began counting out some coins. “Here.” I gave half of it to Lee. “Your cut.”

“Thanks, partner,” Lee smirked.

We then went to the largest shop in the town, which happened to be a general goods vendor called “Goodman’s.” It was a large, two-story building near the center of town and was frequented by a lot of people. Lee and I had to wait a bit until one of the clerks was free to help us.

“Can I help you?” the thin, reedy man in an ill-fitting suit asked. I noted that he directed his question at Lee.

“We’re here to sell shome thingsh,” I spoke up, causing the man to frown.

“I’m sorry, but this is a human shop,” he said with a sneer. “We don’t have any use for any of your… native knick knacks.”

Lee snorted while I growled. I stepped up closer to the little twerp, my seven-foot-tall frame looming over him. “Do I look like one of those loin-cloth wearing savages to you?”

While the clerk cowered, a middle-aged woman came up to us. With a well-practiced smile, she said, “Jimmy, why don’t you go upstairs and fold some clothing. I’ll help these gentlemen out.”

Without saying a word, the skinny jackass retreated up the stairs to the second floor.

“I apologize for Jimmy, he’s new here. My husband’s nephew,” she said in a strained voice. “He just moved here from Fayson. Has some trouble adjusting to Wayfaire’s peculiar society.”

“Mrs. Goodman, I presume?” I asked.

“That’s me. Usually my husband is the one minding the store, but he’s out of town on business.” She smiled, bright brown eyes shining with mirth.

“My partner and I,” I indicated Lee, “were intereshted in selling a few things.”

“Oh? Well, we’re always in the business of acquiring more stock,” Mrs. Goodman said. “What do you have?”

First up was Ardus’ belt, which held numerous magical items and ingredients. I had no idea how valuable they were, and sadly neither did Mrs. Goodman. She liked the belt as it was pretty high quality, and offered me 450 silver for the lot of it. I agreed to the price.

Next were the remains of Gaddows’ armor. The helmet, pauldrons, greaves, and sabatons. The woman could tell that the armor was very high quality and that they were enchanted.

“I can’t give you too much for them since it isn’t a complete set,” she said, eyeing the red cuirass I was wearing. I nodded and she offered us two gold for the lot. I managed to talk her into giving us 3 gold for them, so in the end I was happy.

Before leaving, I saw that they were selling some black paint. I bought a small can of it along with a brush for twelve silver, the cost of which was deducted from our sale.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you gentlemen,” Mrs. Goodman said as she waved to us farewell.

“Likewise,” I told her.

Lee gave her a smile and a nod.

As we were walking out the store, Jimmy was coming down the stairs from the second level. As we passed, I hissed a snarl towards him. The skinny man shrieked and ran back up the stairs.

Ah, that was most satisfying.

Once we were outside the shop, I divided our earnings and gave half of the amount to Lee. He grinned as he accepted the money (without counting, I noticed) and said that he was going to go have a drink somewhere. He invited me to go with him, but I declined. I had other things I needed to take care of.

I headed back to the inn that we had stayed in before. I nodded to the front desk clerk before heading up to my room. Once inside, I took off my coat, then removed the red cuirass and bracers. I took out my recently purchased can of black paint, opened up the lid, then dabbed the brush into it. I then began to paint the armor pieces, applying the smooth black pigment onto the scarlet metal. The whole job took me an hour, but by the time I had finished the once red armor was now a dark black. The paint job wasn’t perfect by any stretch; some sites where the brushstrokes were sloppy still showed through red, but the paint covered up the armor for the most part.

Now wearing the armor wouldn’t bring so much attention to me. Gaddows may have been an attention-starved nitwit who was keen on walking around in bright red armor, but I liked to keep on the lowdown. It was hard enough doing that as a giant seven-foot-tall lizard; I didn’t need any of my clothing bringing more attention to me.

I put on my coat and left the room, leaving the armor pieces inside to dry. I went downstairs to the tavern area of the inn and ordered a meal. The only meat choices that they had were fish, and weird Hell-fish at that, so I purchased the only thing on the menu I recognized which was fried catfish steak. The meal was bland because of the lack of spices but filling nonetheless.

I was wiping my mouth with a napkin and just about to get up and leave when someone sat at my table. I looked up and saw that it was thin, raggedy old man with a long gray beard, but what really struck me was what he was wearing. The old codger was wearing the same black long coat and hat I had on, though his was much worse for wear, covered in mud and grit from the swamp. I was just about to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing sitting at my table uninvited when he suddenly opened his mouth.

“You,” he said to me, his bright blue eyes wide open and almost popping out from his skull. “You are one of the Marked!”

I blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You are one of the Marked!” he said again, somewhat louder and more shaky than previous. “I can tell that you are, from the mark on your hand!” Before I could stop him, he grabbed my left arm and pulled down my sleeve, exposing the yellow symbol on the back of my hand.

I gruffly yanked my hand away from his grip and snarled at the crazy old coot. I would have decked him if he hadn’t looked like a gust of wind might blow him over dead.

“What in hell are you talking about, you crazy old bashtard?”

“You are marked,” he repeated and I just shook my head and growled.

“You said that already. Start making shome sense or I’m gonna crack your head open!”

The old man took a deep, gasping breath, then spoke. “Our god, the glorious god of humanity, who presides over all the halls of justice in the world, has chosen you. By your mark, you are a chosen of Rekorim!” He reached into his coat with a shaky hand and pulled out a pendant. It was a piece of silver hanging from a chain, bent to look like the familiar form of a stylized “V.” The same symbol that was on the back of my hand.

“He has chosen you, and my goodness, you have come,” the man said. “Oh, praise be to him. I never thought I would ever live to see one of his chosen in the flesh!”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, old man,” I grumbled. “I still don’t understand what you’re babbling about.”

The mania in his eyes dimmed for just a moment, and he licked his lips before speaking more softly and in a saner tone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let me start over.” He took off his ragged hat, revealing a large bald spot in his gray hair. “My name is Angus Barlow, and I am a cleric of Rekorim. I run the local church.”

Great. Just what I needed around me, a man of God. And in Hell of all places.

“I couldn’t help but notice the mark on your hand,” he said. “It is the Mark of Rekorim, denoting that you are one of his chosen few.”

I had heard all this before from the deranged slaver captain, of course. I sighed, not really feeling in the mood to humor the old goat. “Listen, Reverend. I’m not a religious man, and I certainly ain’t buying into any hocus pocus that you’re peddling.”

“You are taller than your fellows, more fit, and stronger,” he stated in a hard tone. “You heal fast, faster than any other creature in the world. Grievous wounds heal in a few hours what would take months for a regular person to recover from. You can see a floating blue parchment that no one else can, and read from it the wisdom of the gods.”

I found myself stunned and speechless at his words. But then he got to the real kicker.

“You are also not from here, but from another world. And this form, the one you wear here, is not the form you have had in your home.”

How in the hell did he know all that? How could he?

“I can see from the look on your face that I speak the truth,” he stated with a solemn nod. “What I stated were words given to us by Rekorim himself over a thousand years ago, words for his loyal followers so that they may recognize his chosen. The mark is just the quick way of recognizing your kind. Your god-given abilities are another.”

Holy shit. Could it be possible that this lunatic could know something? Maybe whatever this church was, it had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Hell. How else could he have known all that stuff about me? Could this Rekorim fella be the one who dragged me down into Hell in the first place? Could he maybe get me back out? If not to Heaven, then maybe the living world at the very least.

“Shay I believe you, old man,” I said, leaning back in my chair as I tried to mentally digest everything that I had just learned. “What exactly does thish Rekorim want me to do exactly? As one of his chosen?”

Angus leaned back into his seat as well, his bearded face cracking into a tight-lipped smile.

“My son, what does any chosen of the gods do when called upon by their patron deities?” he asked. “You’re here to destroy all of Rekorim’s enemies, in this world and the next.”

I sighed.

Of course, I was.