Chapter 05 - A Delivery

The next morning Paloma and Jahnas emerged from their rooms at the same time and headed downstairs together.  Slovi was at his usual spot behind the bar, Judge Dredd perched on a stool in front of him drinking tea.  At a table near the door sat Professor Balstrop and Jimmy, books and papers spread between them.  They appeared to be having an in depth conversation about something, and both turned and waved at duo.  Dredd gave them a nod and then continued her conversation with Slovi.

 

Jahnas took a seat at a table and quickly became lost in thought.  Paloma walked over to Vindeep and Jimmy.  “That is quite the stack of books.”

 

“Yes,” Jimmy agreed excitedly.  “Professor Balstrop has been tutoring me to help me prepare for my university entrance exams.  Right now we’re studying myths.”

 

“Ah.  And which myths are you discussing today?”

 

“The myth of Leopardius.”

 

Vindeep reached across the table and put her hand on top of one of Jimmy’s.  “Now Jimmy,” she said quietly, “remember what we discussed about the place Leopardius holds among the tabaxi.”  

 

After a moments thought Jimmy’s expression became a combination of mortification colored with just a hint of fear.  He turned to the tabaxi.  “Paloma, I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect by referring to Leopardius as a myth.”

 

Paloma smiled in a way that would not expose her fangs.  “It was an honest mistake, Jimmy.  But Professor Balstrop is right that you should always exercise caution when discussing the stories of different races.”

 

“Man, what a crazy day yesterday was!”  Vim walked to the bar, his arms stretched outward as he yawned loudly. Modi and Gnomey followed the bard.  It seemed that Vim couldn’t enter a room without announcing his arrival, Paloma thought.

 

“It sounds like quite a busy night as well,” Dredd said.  Vim opened his mouth to protest but the constable waved him off.  “Don’t worry Vim, I’m not here to arrest anyone.  In fact, I brought a peace offering.”  She slid a book down the bar.  Modi stopped it before it fell off the end.  It was a recent translation of the Codex.  “I figured it might be of some help,” Dredd said.

 

They filled Dredd and Slovi in on what transpired at the Drunken Lizard, Vim describing the battle in detail, other than the part where he fell on his face.  When he finished, Paloma joined the group.  “Judge, do you know where the Chapel of the Taken is located?”  

 

Dredd thought for a moment and exchanged glances with Slovi, who just shrugged.  “No, it doesn’t sound familiar.”

 

Modi walked to the table by the door and stood there awkwardly until Vindeep and Jimmy noticed him.  “Professor,” he asked, “do you know anything of the Chapel of the Taken?”

 

“I, um,” she began, the elf’s close proximity making her uncomfortable.  She regained her composure, however, and pulled a book from the stack on the table.  The title on the cover read The Churchopedia.  The gnome flipped through the pages, then used her finger to scroll down to the entry she sought.  “Ah, here it is.  Not much of an entry I’m afraid.  It just says, ‘Near Forrestvale’.”

 

“Forrestvale?” Dredd asked, turning toward the table.  She turned back to the rest of the group.  “Will you be going to Forrestvale then to look for this chapel?”

 

Vim shrugged.  “It’s our best lead so far.  I’m not even sure where exact Forrestvale is, though.  Doesn’t sound like a great place to have a gig.”

 

“It’s south of Beetwixt,” Dredd said flatly, her mind on something else.  Beetwixt sat in the middle of Töfraland, the midway point of the main continent-spanning highway that connected Unity in the west to Bounty in the east.  She looked at Vim.  “You’ll be needing transportation then.  I’ll arrange for it.  Meet me in the basement of Unity Hall in an hour.”  With that she stood and left.

 

“Judge Dredd seemed to react to the name Forrestvale,” Jahnas observed, speaking to no one in particular.

 

“Yes,” replied Slovi.  “Her sister Simone is the judge there.  It has been a week since we’ve had any word from the town, which is unusual.  Jane is worried, both as a judge and as a sister.”

 

After a light meal the party packed their gear and headed to Unity Hall.  The lower level could be accessed via stairs from inside, or by a ramp from the street.  They followed the ramp down and found themselves in an expansive area used for both storage and vehicles.  

 

Two artificers prepared four trikes along one wall.  While most people still traveled by foot or animal, those who could afford the three-wheeled powered trikes valued them for their speed and range.  Artificers had perfected the art of capturing the magic currents in the air and storing them in batteries.  A standard one-rider trike could easily cover 25 miles in an hour, and do so for about three days before needing to be recharged.  Even the smallest towns usually had an artificer who could charge a battery, so unless one was looking to go exploring extensively in unpopulated areas the trike was an efficient method of travel.

 

The vehicles had fat rubber tires and steel frames.  The wealthy decked theirs out in all kinds of embellishments, but these four were very basic, each with a few brass instruments and a small wooden trunk attached to the back.  One of the four was a modified version that had a sidecar.

 

Dredd approached the party as they looked over the vehicles.  “I requisitioned these for you,” she said.  

 

Vim’s face lit up.  “We’re getting trikes?”

 

“Yes,” Dredd confirmed.  “I briefed the Council on what transpired yesterday, and there is renewed interest in you finding the Codex.  Since your only lead right now is Forrestvale, you’ll need to be able to get there quickly.”

 

Gnomey stashed his gear in the sidecar.  “Vim, can I ride with you?”  Everyone could see he looked up to the bard, and it also made sense given the size of the trikes.  

 

“Of course, Gnomey, my main gnome.  We’re gonna have some fun!  You ever done a wheelie?”

 

Paloma was standing next to Dredd.  She leaned in and whispered to the judge.  “I’ll keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t get too crazy.”  Dredd nodded her appreciation.

 

Dredd went to a side room and returned with a wood box, about 12” on each side and six inches deep.  Inside were three clockwork birds made of brass.  “These are battery powered.  If you have information to communicate back to me, the legs are hollow and you can insert short messages inside.  There is a magic homing beacon inside that will guide them here.  In turn, if I want to send a return message they are set to return to wherever this box is located.”

 

“Magic mechanical birds!  This day just keeps getting better!”  Vim thought for a moment.  “Your judgeness, can we requisition any other equipment for our journey?  I mean, a lot of people have tried to kill us in the last 24 hours.  Some armor might be helpful.”

 

“Of course.”

 

The party collected a small amount of gear, including leather armor for Vim and shortbow for Jahnas.  Dredd also gave them a magical bag of holding, which looked like a fabric messenger bag but the interior of which was an extra-dimensional space.  Not only could a large volume of stuff be put into the bag without increasing its weight, it also had the added benefit of shielding items from attempts to locate them using magic.

 

As they organized the trikes Slovi entered and, after exchanging a few words with Dredd, approached the group.  He was carrying a beautifully crafted wood object about the size of a cigar box.

 

“So you’re headed to Forrestvale.  Are you planning on passing through Beetwixt on the way, by chance?” Slovi asked.  The fastest route to Forrestvale would definitely take them through Beetwixt, and in fact they planned to stay the night there.

 

“Yes, Slovi,” Jahnas replied.  

 

“Ah, well, then, perhaps, you know, since you’re going there anyway, you might like to make a little money and deliver this to someone for me?”

 

Vim’s ears perked up at the mention of money.  “How much money are we talking about, Slovi my friend?”

 

“A gem or gems worth at least 500 gold pieces.”

 

Vim whistled and turned to Modi.  The elf was more interested in the box than the money.  “What is in the box, Slovi,” Modi asked.

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m honor-bound to keep that a secret.  I can promise you that it is nothing illegal, or is it a dangerous item.  But that’s all I can say.”

 

“Why us?”  Paloma leaned back on a trike tire.  

 

“Dredd trusts you.  And I heard how well you handled yourself over at the Drunken Lizard.  Unfortunately there are those who might want to steal this item, and because I have ties to it I would probably be attacked if I left the city.  You, however, have no association with it, so likely won’t attract any unwanted attention.”

 

Paloma looked across the storage area and saw Dredd pretending to be interested in some paperwork while trying to nonchalantly glance in their direction.

 

“Besides,” Slovi continued, “the box is locked with magic.  You couldn’t open it if you tried, and certainly not without destroying the contents.”

 

Vim looked at the others, and seeing no obvious disagreement reached out to take the box.  “Consider it done.  Who do we deliver it to?”

 

“A woman named Debora,” Slovi said.  “She’s human, about sixty years old.  She used to be a judge, too, back in the day.  You can meet her at Beetwixt Us Brews at eighth bell in the evening.  She’s there every night.  Should be wearing a light blue cloak, and you can’t miss the angry scar from her scalp to her chin that runs across her left eye.”  For emphasis Slovi held a hand turned sideways to show where the scar would be.

 

Vim and Slovi shook on it, and the bard handed the box to Modi who put it inside the bag of holding.  After walking a few paces away Slovi turned back to the party.  “Oh, and say ‘hi’ to my brother Pints Alebrewer when you get there.  He’s the judge in Beetwixt.”  Slovi smiled and went on his way.

 

The conversation over, Dredd returned to the group and handed Paloma a document tube.  “There is a letter from the Council inside.  You can present it at any constable or military office and they will provide whatever help they can – lodging, charging vehicles, information, even weapons if available.” 

 

“We will check in on your sister as well, Jane,” Paloma said.  “If we can offer her any help, we will.”  Dredd nodded in silent thanks.  

 

With the exception of Gnomey, all of them had some experience with trikes.  Vim and Modi were more advanced, so Vim paired up with Jahnas and Modi rode alongside Paloma as the four vehicles moved up the ramp out into street.  They quickly passed through Unity’s eastern gate and onto the open road. 

 

The east-west road connecting Unity to Bounty was simply referred to as “the highway”.  The wide, well-maintained road was used by travelers of all types from those on foot all the way up to the larger six-wheeled motorized vehicles.  Small guard towers dotted the road every five miles, with a larger tower every 25 miles.  The safe movement of goods and people was a priority for the Council, and having soldiers able to reach any part of the road within minutes went a long way in deterring bandits.

 

The ride was uneventful, the late spring day offering the perfect temperature for riding.  About eight hours after departing Unity the traffic got thicker, and soon the four riders found themselves entering the walled-in center of Beetwixt and parking their trikes in front of the constable office.  

Beetwixt

 

A human constable exited the building and walked down the steps.  “Hello travelers.  How can I help you?”

 

All five of them were stretching next to their vehicles, trying to work out the kinks after a long day of riding.  Paloma handed the constable their document from the Council.  “We’re looking for Pints.”

 

The constable read the document, one eyebrow cocking up about half way through.  “Well, this is pretty clear.  We have some cots available upstairs, so you’re welcome to bring in your gear.  I’ll have one of our artificers tend to the trikes.  Follow me.”

 

Inside they met Pints, who was both a bit younger and more jovial than his brother.  He told them how to find Beetwixt Us Brews, a watering hole for locals to the southeast of the walled part of Beetwixt.  As Pints explained, the walled section was established to control the crossroads between the highway and the main north-south roads that intersected with it here.  Most of the city proper was outside the walls, much of it geared toward travelers and merchants.  The part where Beetwixt Us Brews was located was the oldest part of town, its streets less organized and the rule of law a bit looser.  “You look like a group who can handle yourselves, so you probably have nothing to worry about.”

 

The sixth evening bell struck as they arrived, and by time they finished with Pints and stashed their gear it was already approaching seventh bell.  

 

“I think we should head down there now,” Jahnas said.  

 

Vim agreed.  “Yes, best to be there early so we can scout it out.  Plus we can probably get something to eat.”

 

It took about 15 minutes to walk to Beetwixt Us Brews, which was a combination brewery, tavern, and brothel.  It sat on the southern edge of a square, in the middle of which was an old ruin of a guard tower.  People of every race moved about their business, though this part of town wouldn’t really get busy until much later in the evening. 

Beetwixt Us Brews

 

The bar of Beetwixt Us Brews was along the right wall when they entered.  Most of the tavern was to their left, a loosely organized group of alternating round and rectangular wooden tables and chairs with a fireplace against the far wall.  A few small groups sat in different areas, talking quietly to themselves while eating or drinking.  At the round table closest to the door sat an intimidating looking human in thick furs, a pair of hand axes laying out on the table as he drank ale from a tankard and stared at the wall.

 

In the far corner a human woman in a light blue robe sat alone.  She looked to be in her 60s and had a nasty scar running vertically down the right side of her face.  

 

“Looks like she’s here already,” Vim said, motioning with his chin toward the back corner before turning to the bartender.  “A round of drinks, my good man,” the bard said, louder than necessary.

 

“That’s not her,” Modi said.

 

“Of course it is, Modi,” Vim replied as he handed a mug of ale to Gnomey.  “Human, blue robe, scar.”  The bard held his hand over his eye to indicate the scar, just as Slovi had.  “That’s her.  She just got here early, that’s all.”

 

“No Vim.  That’s the other woman.  The one with the brown robe from the Drunken Lizard.”

 

Paloma cocked her head and looked at the wizard, but said nothing.  

 

“Modi, my friend, you worry too much.  Let’s go make our delivery, get paid, and see if we can arrange to play a gig here tonight.”  Vim put his arm around the wizard and began to lead him across the tavern.

 

Paloma looked at Jahnas and Gnomey.  “You two stay here by the door and watch our backs.  Something doesn’t feel right here.”  Jahnas nodded in agreement while Gnomey gave a thumbs up, his face buried in his ale mug.  Paloma turned and followed Vim and Modi.

 

Vim was already speaking to the woman when Paloma arrived, and the sorceress leaned up against a wall to give her a better view of the room.

 

“Well, she gave us the right name and described what we’re carrying, so go ahead and give it to her, Modi,” Vim said.

 

Paloma watched as Modi struggled to decide what to do.  After a few seconds he reached into the bag of holding and withdrew the box Slovi gave them, placing it on the table.  Debora looked at the box and withdrew a strange chime-like item from her robe.  

 

“What happened to Joey?” Modi asked.  Vim crinkled his face in confusion.  

 

“What did you say?” Debora asked.  Paloma shifted her weight and began to crouch down ever so slightly.

 

“Joey.  When we last met it was at the Drunken Lizard and they dragged Joey into the basement.  What happened to him?”

 

Vim chuckled uncomfortably.  “Forgive my friend, miss.  He’s a bit awkward around the ladies.  Modi, you’re confusing this nice woman, who is about to give us a 500 gold piece gem, with someone else.”

 

Modi and the woman locked eyes.  The background noise in the tavern became quieter.  Jahnas, seeing some of the other patrons making subtle moves towards their weapons, slowly put his ale mug on the bar. 

 

Modi and the woman reached for the box at the same time.  The elf was faster, grabbing it and in a single deft motion putting it back in the bag.  

 

Vim took a step back from the table.  “Wait, what is…”  Before he could finish the sentence all hell broke loose.

 

The woman seemed to leap out of her chair in one motion.  As she did so she shouted, “Get me that box!”  She came down with her feet planted on the table, her rapier moving like a blur towards Modi’s neck.  The wizard had been able to grab the box, but that decision left him defenseless.  He stoically faced what he knew would be the killing blow, his only regret that he wouldn’t get to dance one more time.

 

But the blade stopped short, just touching his neck and drawing a single drop of blood.  The woman looked Mod in the eyes as chaos erupted around them.  “I see now.  You’re one of them,” she said quietly.  She then turned and leapt through an open window to her left.

 

They would eventually learn that every patron in the tavern, including the bartender, had been hired to kill them.  Seeing weapons being drawn, Gnomey spat out a mouthful of ale, pointed his cupped hand at one of the tables, and raised it.  Vines and thorned branches rose up from the floor, the largest as thick as a man’s arm, and began wrapping themselves around three of their would-be assailants.  Jahnas strode forward to engage another group at the rear of the room. 

 

Vim stepped back as he reached for his mace.  “Too much… too much, too soon…”

 

Paloma sprang upwards, landing gracefully on a ceiling joist that gave her a commanding view of the entire tavern.  Her fangs gleamed in the firelight as she smiled in anticipation of what was to come.

 

The battle was fierce and close quarters.  An elf sorceress used her magic to fling ceramic beer mugs at Modi, and while his fast reflexes allowed him to dodge the missiles he didn’t see the poisoned dart thrown by the bartender that struck him in the shoulder, slowing his movements as he began to feel sluggish.  Vim, having recovered his wits, moved alongside Modi and began crushing assailants with his mace.

 

Magic attacks and poison darts flew around the room as maces and swords extracted their bloody tolls.  The man in the furs watched impassively for about ten seconds before standing, grabbing his hand axes, and striding straight towards Vim.  The bard turned to his left after crushing a tabaxi’s skull just in time to see the two axes strike him in the chest.  He’d never been hit so hard in his life.  As he fell backwards his vision blackened on the edges until it seemed like he was watching the barbarian recede through just a tiny pinhole.  The last thing he saw was his foe raise both hands as he roared with delight, drops of Vim’s own blood flying off the raised axes in slow motion.

 

This must be how it feels to die, he thought.  

 

Modi and Jahnas put themselves between the barbarian and their fallen friend.  Gnomey darted down under various legs as he grabbed an orange potion from his belt.  Pulling the stopper with his teeth, he held Vim’s head up from the floor and poured the contents into the bard’s mouth.  The healing liquid quickly made its way through his body, mostly closing the two angry wounds in his chest as he sputtered back to life.

 

A ball of wispy green energy flew in from the ceiling in the back corner, passing between the heads of Jahnas and Modi before striking the barbarian in the chest and blasting him backwards, through the table he had been sitting at when they entered.  The smell of burning singed filled the air, the orb of aurora energy blasting a hole clean through both his garb and his chest.  

 

They had the upper hand now.  One of their assailants made a run for it and dashed out into the square.  The bartender’s luck with his poison darts finally ran out when he threw one at Jahnas, the monk’s impossibly fast reflexes allowing him to not only catch it but in one motion throw it back at the man, striking him in the chest and dropping him to the floor.

 

When it was all over eight bodies littered the tavern.  Paloma silently jumped down from the rafters as Jahnas and Modi helped Vim into a chair.  With the exception of Paloma, all of them had been injured in the fight.  Vim used some of his healing magic, which took care of the worst of their injuries.  They were still going to be sore in the morning.

 

“So much for my new armor,” Vim said, looking at the two huge gashes across the chest of his leather garb.  

 

“It makes you look tough,” Gnomey said helpfully.  The gnome had gone behind the bar and started pouring drinks, which he lined up on the counter.  “The ladies will love it.”

 

Vim raised an eyebrow.  You know, the gnome is probably right, he thought.

 

There was a spiral staircase behind the bar, and a voice shouted up from below.  “What’s happening up there?  Did you get the box?”

 

Vim sighed, stood, and rolled his neck side to side.  “Looks like we’re not done yet.”  He turned to the others.  “How do you want to approach this?”

 

Paloma pointed over his shoulder.  When he turned he saw that Jahnas was already walking behind the bar toward the stairs.  Vim threw up his hands in disgust.  “Not much of a plan, Jahnas,” he shouted as he followed the monk.

 

By the time they all made it downstairs Jahnas was already engaged in a staredown with four more rogues.  Behind them a dozen individuals were tied and gagged, including a woman in blue robe with a nasty scar on her face who was trying to work her gag loose.

 

“I will only tell you one more time.  Put down your weapons.  I don’t want to hurt you.”  Jahnas’ arms were crossed and he looked at his four short sword-wielding adversaries like a disappointed father.

 

Drop your weapons, a voice boomed throughout the enclosed basement, the force of both magic and righteousness behind it.  Three of the rogues dropped their swords immediately, their eyes glossed over.  Vim had to admit he felt his grip on his mace loosen for a moment as well. 

 

The voice came form the blue robed woman who had finally worked her gag free.  The remaining rogue, realizing that he was now completely outnumbered and had now way to escape, dropped his weapon as well. 

 

The party tied up the rogues then freed everyone.  The woman was indeed Debora.  The others included the proprietor, some of the tavern staff, and the ladies who worked in the brothel.  A cook was dispatched to go alert the constables.  Before he too headed upstairs the owner turned back to the party.  “I can’t thank you enough.  Obviously you’re eating and drinking here for free tonight.”

 

“You can’t possibly be considering opening for business tonight,” Paloma said incredulously, more a statement than a question.  “There are at least eight dead bodies up there.”

 

The man gave Paloma a grim smile.  “Lady, this is hardly the first time we’ve had a body count like that.  Trust me, we’ll be open in less than an hour and there will be a line of people waiting to get in once the story has spread.  It’s going to be a good night.”  

 

Vim snapped his fingers, an idea coming to him.  “Hey there, buddy.  Me and my wizard friend here,” he began, jerking his thumb back toward Modi.

 

“I am Modi,” the elf said with a smile and wave.

 

“Exactly.  Like I was saying, me and my friend Modi are entertainers.  Perhaps you’ve heard of us, Mikael’s Pence?”

 

“Um…”

 

“No worries.  I get it.  A lot of talent comes through this place, I’m sure.  But since we did kind of save everyone’s lives and all, how would you feel about us performing here tonight?  Since it’ll be a big crowd and all.”

 

The man shook his head and chuckled.  “Knock yourself out, kid.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some mopping to do.”  With that he went up the stairs.

 

Modi tugged on Vim’s sleeve.  “Vim, I don’t want to see you get knocked out again,” he said, concern in his voice.

 

Debora turned to Paloma.  “Are these two for real?”

 

“I’m afraid so.”