Chapter 33: Puzzle Pieces

Chapter 33: Puzzle Pieces

“These tunnels never end! It has been weeks since I lost the other students. We only went down into the basement of a sweetshop to hide from an angry mob that was after us for a little prank we pulled. When the commotion had ended all the others exited through the hatch, I followed last. How was I supposed to know that the basement counted as the underground? One moment I was pulling myself through the hatch to the surface, I blinked and I found myself pulling out of a pond. I had found myself in an underground reservoir filled with a variety of magical and non magical life. Although the sight was beautiful and worthy of study I was scared and ran desperately to find a way out. I regret that now as there was water and food enough there to survive and I haven’t seen it since. I managed to make my way through caves, sewers, hidden trials, and more but never was there a way back to the surface. I have discovered that the way behind can change unless I am totally shore of every stone that I passed, even the slightest bit of doubt and the underground changes. If you are reading this I am likely dead, please let my family, the REDACTED, know my fate.” An account from a journal found by some junior adventurer’s next to one of the sewer entrances, no body was ever located.  

☠

Ravin polished his glasses with a cloth. He coughed. He coughed louder. The guards cramped into the alley with him didn’t move and didn't react. They were the most discourteous guests he had ever had. First there had been that creepy weirdo who’s first thought had been to cut him open and dissect him and now he was stuck with this. The white and gold clad men had been led by an overly tall man adorned in gold armour. At that point they had appeared to be a rather rambunctious church party, all laughing and cajoling. Not having seen church members, who were supposed to sterilise the tunnels every few weeks, in more than five years Ravin was rather excited. After a thorough cleaning there would be less blockages and people wouldn’t stink so bad for at least a month. 

However when he asked the leader of their party he was disappointed. Apparently they weren’t here to use their sterilising light chant, although the leader was interested to learn that this duty was being neglected, he claimed not to have time. This piqued Ravin’s interest and without thinking the gargoyle asked “Then why are you here?” Instead of the indignant tirade he might have expected from other church members who believed the sewers were beneath them he received a simple answer. Apparently he was hunting vampires; they were believed to have attacked Far-Reach fort with a number of raised undead before fleeing. The man and his party were returning to the capital in shame when the Light sent him a revelation. Apparently a number of undead were attacking a small town called Market-Basin, Ravin had never heard of it. They turned out to be vampires and Orlando, for that was this man’s name, had found a note on one of them that referenced a hidden cache of illegal goods beneath the city. 

Ravin was then compelled to warn them of the dangers of the sewers and how best to avoid them. For the first time in years they all listened with rapt attention and didn’t interrupt. The stone creature was sad to see the majority of the party leave, he had not had such courteous visitors in a long time. When it was let known that a half dozen men would be left to guard this entrance Ravin was elated though he dared not show it. He had been able only play cards with the other gargoyles and only through speech so cheating was rampant. Cards were a given for men on guard duty. What would he play, poker, five mens habits, or maybe catcha? Nothing apparently. 

As soon as the men had received their orders they were all seriousness, none would let up their wariness for even a moment. In the end they had stopped speaking to him, dreaming of him a distraction.  

“Digger?” Ravin called through the Clota network, a magical network that connected all sentient gargoyles. 

“Ravin, it’s been too long.” A rough gravelly voice returned from the strangely named gargoyle. “Shoo shoo, get gone.” 

“I’m terribly sorry if I interrupted something.” Ravin replied, hesitantly. 

“You’re all right, it's just those bloody birds. The bank's pest control charm was done by a student pretending to be a graduate. Now it attracts birds from all over the city, I can’t think for feathers. 

Oh, no. You feathered rat I’ll gut you!!! 

Sorry I’ve been caked in excrement and they keep adding to it.”

“I’m sorry Digger, I had no idea.” 

“You're quite alright, it's not your fault. It's that bloody school's problem. They said they would send a professor to fix it weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry to impose upon you but I have a request.”

“Go ahead.” Digger replied, the constant sound of swatting and flapping overlapping his voice.

“Can you still make out the underground entrance from your position?”

“Yep, just about. Hold on.” There proceeded an awful screeching and rustle of feathers. “Yep, as I thought.” It’s surrounded by church men; lounging about, complaining, drinking, and…”

“Don’t say it.” 

“Playing cards.” Digger finished. “Why have you got the same problem?”

“Mine won’t play.”

“Ahh, I’m sorry.” 

“If you’ll excuse me I’ll have to contact the other gargoyles who overlook entrances.”

“The sewer squad.” Digger affirmed enthusiastically. 

“I told you not to call us that.” Click, and the connection was terminated.

☠

Two Woden students walked through the city, apart from their four friends. They were all disguised as common folk because, strictly speaking, they weren't allowed off school grounds in term time. It was an agreement struck up between the towns lord and the headmaster so being seen to be breaking could end up in double jeopardy. 

“Safford?” The Wand wielding Wizard asked his companion.

“Yes Wandicus?” The staff wielding student replied. 

“Do you think they’re right?” 

“Not a chance! We both saw him.”

“But there is no Osseus in the list of professors, not even the nominal professors who spend their time researching for the school. No one ever heard of him.”

“Nonsense, he’s a dual affinity mage! Not to mention how quickly he picked up our spells. I think the headmaster might be hiding him.”

“Why?”

“So he can do the jobs that only the headmaster himself can do without anyone expecting it. Or perhaps to do the school's less savoury work.” Stafford said conspiratorially. 

“Even if that is true. No one would believe it, even our own housemates think we’re making it up.” Wandicus replied, indicating their four friends across the street. At first they had laughed goodnaturedly at their outlandish tale but when they had persisted it had placed a wedge between the group. 

Stafford could only agree with his friend, if he hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have believed it either. They walked in silence for a time. 

“Stafford?”

“Yes Wandicus?”

“Do you really think he’s an assassin or some such.” 

“No.” Stafford replied after a disappointed breath. “He was definitely a teacher, he was so enthusiastic to teach us anything and he couldn’t wait for questions. He was better than any of our other teachers.” 

“Not to mention he was able to help us with our spells at just a glance.”

Stafford grunted in reply.

“Hey?” Wandicus began, “You don’t suppose that it was the headmaster in disguise.” 

“Hmm.” Stafford began in a sceptical tone, “We’ve only seen him from a distance at ceremonies but word is he only took the position for the power it gave him, not to mention the money. I don’t think anyones ever seen him teach.” 

“And he’s supposed to have fire and water affinities, not earth and wind.” Wandicus added. There proceeded another silence where giggling could be heard and pointing seen from their group across the road. 

“We could find out.” Stafford eventually proposed. 

“How?” Wandicus asked.

“At the Ghibellines’ ball tonight, the headmaster will no doubt be there.” Stafford answered. As they were both distant sons of far away minor nobility they had been afforded an invite. 

“I don’t know, I haven't asked anyone.” Wandicus replied, his attention transfixed by a member of their house across the street. His eyes never left her smile, but whenever her head would turn he looked away. Stafford slapped his friend on the back. 

“We can fix that.” He said with a knowing wink.

“We can’t just ask him.” Wandicus added, turning his attention back to his pal. “If he knows we’re students then we might end up in detention for a month.”

“How would he know, he doesn't spend any time with the students. We’ll just be visiting nobility on our grand tour. Now let's get you a date.” Stafford said, dragging his friend across the street. Just as Wandicus was dragged over a sewer grate a gout of flame shot up engulfing the boy's foot. His shoe was on fire and he was staring at blackley, still in shock. Before Stafford could react, Penelope (the Water mage his friend had taken a fancy to) doused the flames before running to his mates side. 

“Wandicus, Marcus.” she said, coming to his aid. A scream soon followed as the pain set in. Stafford wisely took a step back, if they were already on a first name basis he thought his friend might do alright. He wasn’t too worried about the burn, in a city like this they could get that healed in no time, instead his focus followed the gazes of his fellow classmates. Gouts of flame had begun to sprout from the sewers in a line heading out of the city. Something had happened in the underground. A wind howled past with the force of a tornado as it collected up all the fire Stafford could see.

☠

“What do you think about the new guy?” Tintagel asked as he continued writing his next article. 

“Tricky, very tricky.” Loretta asked from further up the desk, they were both next to each other. 

“How so?” Tintagel questioned. 

“He will either do great as an adventurer, he has the strength, or he will grow bored of it. It’s clear his passions lie elsewhere.” 

“He won’t be your successor?” 

“No…sadly”

“If that’s the case you shouldn’t have sent him after rats, he’ll get bored all the faster. Should have sent him after a dragon.”

They looked at each other and both let out a chuckle. 

“Anyhow,” Loretta eventually said, “I didn’t send him, one of the girls at the desk did. Tradition or some such nonsense.” 

“We both know what can happen if you send a strong adventure on a weak quest, the world seeks to right things.” 

A silence overtook the pair as they scribbled each on their own paperwork. The reception used noise isolating charms so neither the bustle of the board room nor the cacophony of the common room broke through. 

An entitled lordling strode in, demanding that he be given membership immediately. When neither looked up he clapped in the old woman’s face, demanding to see the guild master. With a casual wave of her wand he was sent flying through the window, his cadre scurrying after him. Her eyes never moved from her work.

“Did you notice he was undead or are you getting blind in your old age?” Loretta asked.

“It was the eyes.” Tintagel answered. 

“The eyes?” Loretta asked. The ruffled noble came charging back in demanding apology and was sent out another window with but a thought. 

“Maybe I’m not the one getting old.” Tintagel laughed but quickly turned it into a cough at his wife's look. “Sorry dear.”

“What about his eyes?” she asked again, returning to the subject. 

“Oh, well. He never focused on what he was actually looking at. His eyes would just focus straight ahead. That told me it was some kind of disguise. Then I just had to look more closely. His breaths didn’t move the air, when I fitted him with clothes they wrapped into his skin and do you know the biggest give away?” Tintagle spoke, eager to show off his skills of observation. 

A uniformed officer of the law lingered nervously at the doorway. Passing the rim of his skullcap through his fingers nervously he waited to speak. 

“You know I don’t Tinny and spit it out officer singer before you give me indigestion.” Loretta spoke venomously. Tintagel held his reveal anxiously until the unformed woman said her piece.

“Err.. well mam…. Emm… he seems to be claiming that you, that is you Mrs. Loretta, has somehow assaulted. The… erm.. Young… urm… gentleman. Not that I am accusing you of anything.” The officer rushed to add as the older woman looked at her. 

A voice called out from the street, “What are you a woman or a woodlouse?! Get in there and arrest that crazy bitch!” The officer gulped at the words, Loretta raised an eyebrow and stood. 

“What did you call me?” the Adventures Guildmaster called out, ignoring the officer as she flattened herself against the door frame to let the old woman past. Tintagel followed, humping on his tiptoes, struggling to hold in his final remark. 

“Honestly, I expected we’d have some arrogant pricks about what with the ball. What is this your first time away from home without a parent or older sibling?” Now without the Law between them the not so confident lord was back away from the shuffling old woman, his eyes fixed on her wand. “You think that you can just stroll in here, kill a dragon and get out from under your family's thumb. I save you from your own stupidity and what do you call me?” Loretta raised her wand and the man's hands raised in defence.

Suddenly from beneath the city came a rumble. The sunny way seemed to darken and from up the street came a flash of light. Fire raged up from entrance to the underground to another creating a line that headed right for them. 

Loretta became the wind. Using its power to collect and direct the fire, she saved innumerable people from a burning death as she coilessed the flame. Taking flight, she followed the trail of fire as it headed out of the city, protecting as many as she could. The noble dropped to the ground, sweating and shaking. 

“Fine, say it.” Loretta relented. Tintagel, who has been keeping up by jumping from rooftop to rooftop, scooping up passers by when they came close to the fire and moving them to safety, smiled. 

“It was the footprints.” He let out in a rush when he was at the apex of one jump. Loretta raised her wand, slashing down from the left to right, fire that had travelled down side passages was collected up by a sudden gust of wind and collected into the main stream, saving a nearby school. People stared as they followed in the wake of the flames, across the city.

“What about the footprints?” Loretta asked, “He was wearing boots wasn’t he?” 

“Yes but you can.” Tintagle began before falling out of earshot. He leaped again, “see an odd. Impression. In the. bootprint.  When he. Was changing. He took. Off his. Boots. And the. Impressions. I’m getting too old… Where. Off. only. The Bones. In the. Foot.” He eventually panted out. He’s a skeleton, isn’t he?” Loretta concentrated on the escaping flames, she wasn’t able to reach the source with her wind but all the surface flames could be corralled. The trail was heading out of the city and towards the fields, she could begin to feel her control slipping so that would have to be enough. 

“Tinny you know I can’t reveal any adventure’s secrets.” Loretta responded. Maintaining her focus on the task. 

“I’m right. Thought. Aren't I.” Tintagel persisted, evermore out of breath. Finally the stream of fire passed under the wall. It continued, combusting trees and bushes from beneath and creating a path of destruction as whatever was causing it sped underground. Loretta whipped the sweat from her brow, not having pushed herself so hard in many years. Ignoring the fire that reached out into the country she collected all that was left in the city into a ball. Despite her efforts the fire wouldn’t die, it persisted without oxygen. She condensed the ball smaller and smaller, converting the fire mana into wind through pressure. When it had retracted to a rolling ball of flame the size of her head, the old woman's control slipped. 

Building shook and glass broke from the ensuing explosion. Thankfully she was high enough in the air to keep people out of the radius but there wasn’t a person in Wiccawich who didn’t either see or hear the 1000 foot tall ball of flame which burst forth. It formed rapidly into the shape of an enormous head, burning emerald eyes looking out upon the city. The dragon's head roared, sending their nearest people flying and destroying buildings. She let forth a tongue of flame that stretched across the city’s sky from one side to the other before releasing control of the fire mana and leaving the image to dissipate.

Loretta floated down to rest, her back leaning against the outside of the city wall. Tintagel bounded over before sliding down next to her. Both out of breath. 

“We’re both getting too old.” Tintagel finally said between heaving breaths. 

“You were right.” Loretta replied, “Not only about that.”  

☠

Bang. Splat. Screech. That was the last thing John ever heard. The bang of metal on flesh, the splat of flesh beneath the truck and the screech of tires as the brakes were applied too late.  

John sat, stood? Existed or not in darkness. He couldn’t feel, see or hear anything. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. He sighed, or tried to, nothing came from nowhere and blew out more nothing. 

This was just his luck. He was living alone in london, he had moved out there to fulfil his dream. He had applied to every art college in the city and not a one had accepted him. Nonetheless he had moved there in hopes of trying again next year, this year. He thought he could find a job and rent a place in the city but waiting tables, washing dishes, and working nights at a petrol station wasn’t enough to afford the rent. He had advertised for roommates and that was his first mistake. The guy he now lived with always paid on time, often in cash, but it was his other activities that made John uneasy. So much so that he hadn’t been able to say a thing about it.

He had just dodged a police raid on his flat, gone downstairs and collected his post. He found that once again he had been rejected. He couldn’t even return to his room and begin drawing as he so often did to raise his spirit as he could still hear the shouts of “Police, Open up.” He had just walked down the stairs past the police as if he were invisible.

That was him, the invisible man. He thought as he walked down into the rainy night, he didn’t know where he was going but he just had to go. His whole life he had been overlooked. He was the third child of four, never with anything just for himself. His brother was the smart one, his sister the kind one and his younger brother the family charity case. He, he was nothing. John didn’t have a drug problem, he didn’t make six figures and he didn’t work helping others. He just was. The final person they thought to invite to a family gathering as he was so forgettable. 

John had had friends in school or he thought he did. He didn’t speak to any of them now, they hadn;t even asked what he was doing. John had wandered aimlessly as yet again he debated giving up on his dream. 

Was it really worth it? Before he could work himself back around to his ideals he had been struck by a lorry and killed almost instantly. 

Killed by a rough lorry, at least that wasn’t forgettable. It might be on the news. He thought, trying to cheer himself up in the void. No time passed, or all time passed? Time had ceased to exist or never existed whatever happened the blackness broke after some not time had not passed. His intangible soul was struck across the face by a clawed hand… somehow. He gasped as the blackness of nothing dripped from him. John looked up into eyes darker than the void on the draconic face of a man shaped creature the darkest possible black. Looking upon him John was not able to repress his deepest anxieties, he was nothing, no one. 

“Oh, sorry.” The creature said, lifting his soul ball higher. The despair lifted as if it had never been there but John didn’t know that he could ever believe in himself again. 

“I wanna get back to my game.” The darkness began not waiting for John to get back to his senses. “Let's make this quick. I took your soul from a world that knows about the idea of being reborn in another world, I believe your people call it Isekai?” he added, looking down at a piece of paper and reading off the word. The paper had appeared from nowhere and had strange symbols on it. Scared and confused John simply nodded.

“Great. You are my champion. Here are some skills. Go cause chaos and try not to die again so soon.” The thing said with a wave of its claw. Just as it was about to cast John aside a creature of black oozing tentacle burst into the black nothingness, that was somehow different to the void of before. 

“Great news.” the thing declared.

“What is it Yamete?” The dragonoid asked the tentacle monster.

“Some Lich had burst into this world and started reeking havoc, that Light bitch won’t be on your arse anymore. You don’t have to summon a villain, her Paladin has something to do.”

“What?!” John tried to cry out but nothing happened and he was ignored anyhow.

“Typical.” The Darkness complained, “Well I guess I’ll just keep this one in storage. Looks like I can come back to the game now; did you get snacks?”

Before John could utter another word he was plunged back into the fluid darkness where time did not not, not not not, not exist…. or not?   

☠

David Wainwright sat on a bench in the graveyard. It rained. It hasn't stopped raining since the funeral. He had sat here all night. Many men had been lost that night but looking across at one gravestone he grieved for but one. 

‘Mr. Pools Died as he lived in the pursuit of justice. Retired at age 50 but never stopped helping till the end.’ 

David had had no real family, none that he would care to mention but Mr. Pools or Detective inspector Pools was as close as anyone had come to being family for Mr. Wainwright. When he first joined the Police force he was hot headed and overeager. It was always Mr. Pools that got him out of those close calls, afterwards they would visit the pasty stall, sit by the river and talk. He would ignore whatever advice the older man would give and head to solve his next problem with the same brutishness as before. Nevertheless the older detective would be there to bail him out and he would reiterate those same lesions, however many times it would take to get into his thick head. 

David whipped his tired, sore eyes and looked up to the raining sky. 

Why is fate so unkind? He thought, Is she not a god in the pantheon of Light, should she not work to better the world? It was a question possessed by many, for all the lesser gods and goddesses in the Light’s pantheon claimed to strive for good but not fate. She was ever fickle and whimsical, never to be controlled by another. A pair gangly limbs sat themself beside him. Where before they had been uncoordinated and hesitant, now they were graceful and competent. 

The fight with the vampires had been all bad it would seem David thought with a rye internal chuckle. 

“Mr. Wainwright.”

“Mr. Hills.” 

The two mens’ greetings were all that was said for a time as the rain poured ever on. Eventually, once david had become used to his presents the, Mr. Hills spoke.

“It hurts doesn’t it. Losing something I mean.” He said looking ahead at the graves of the fallen.

“Someone you mean?” David asked.

“Hmm? Yes of course.”

“If I were a younger man I might not have the strength to admit it but yes, yes it does.” David finally said, letting the rain take up the silence between them. 

“What will you do?” Mr. Hills asked.

“What can I do?” David responded. 

“Revenge?” Mr. Hills asked. David looked at the man strangely before laughing darkly. 

“Again, if I were a younger man I might try it. And when I came back covered in scars and clinging desperately to life Mr. Pools would tell me what a fool I had been before splitting a pasty.” Rain came between the two men again as they returned their gazes to the gravestones. 

“What if I told you there was a way to gain the power you would need to get your revenge.” Mr. Hills began but was interrupted by a great earthquake. The two men grasped desperately at the bench for support. In the distance it started, something orange and bright hazed by the rain. It quickly drew nearer and resolved itself to be a line of fire, headed straight for them. 

“Shit!” David cried. Just before it hit the isolated graveyard, far outside town, the flames disappeared. The earthquake however only grew stronger. David's eyes followed the motions as it went under the graveyard then, on the other side and in a field it burst forth. From beneath the ground came a roaring an enraged dragon, its body nothing but fire and growing by the second. Rain turned to steam on its hide. David's heart burst from chest and his breath caught. It swung a carriage sized claw down but was stopped by a heretofore unseen foe. With an almost casual ease the old man turned aside the attack leaving it to burn up a copse of trees that had stood longer than David had been alive. 

“Shit.” The inspector reiterated when, once again, he could breath.