In a land full of magical creatures, dragons fly overhead threatening to unleash a deadly surprise on anyone who gets in their way. As danger lurks in the shadows in a world with its own rules, threats, and resolutions, a group of adventurers seeking d

Sword and Sorcery

Short Stories Book 1By John Ricks

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 John Ben Ricks Sr.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-3969-9

Contents

The Bard.................................................1The Druid................................................10The Hand of God..........................................13A Low-Level Party (Fighter)..............................20The Rogue: Party of Six (High Level).....................29The Ranger...............................................38The Sage/Sorcerer........................................48Country Wizard and Friends...............................59The Cleric of the Traveler...............................76The Wizard: Not What They Seem...........................92The Fighter..............................................107The Assassin.............................................119The Cleric: The Wrong Questions..........................123The Gladiator............................................129The Illusionist..........................................134

Chapter One

The Bard

I walked into the tavern, stomped the snow and ice off my feet, and looked all around without letting on that I was surveying the place, without moving my head, without giving away that I was looking. It was still early, so there were few customers. I glanced at myself in the mirror and saw a clean-cut man in his thirties with long blond hair and a perfect nose. The disguise was still working. I pulled the cloak a little tighter. The ones I was hunting were not here. At the bar was an old man drinking away his sorrows. There were two merchants haggling in the center of the room at a long table made for six chairs. Both wore swords and dirks, and one actually looked like his were usable. The other's were overly ornate, over polished, and over oiled. There was a fat black cat by the low fire with three white boots and a white streak on its face above the nose and between the eyes. It was watching a mouse picking out crumbs on the wooden floor about fifteen feet across the room to the side, where the floor had been swept into a pile of dirt and crumbs.

The bartender was watching me. A very pretty, but far too young, serving wench was waiting to see what I would do. Smells from the kitchen were good, and I was hungry. I crossed to the fireside and took a chair at a small table for one, with my back to the corner and my face to the rest of the room, where I could watch the stairs. The serving wench came over, swaying in a provocative way and showing a little too much leg.

As she bent over the table to wipe it off with a dirty rag, her tiny bosoms nearly fell out of the top of a very loose dress. She asked, "Is there something I can get for you, my lord?"

I had not taken off my cloak and the hood was still up. She could not see any part of me. I said, "Yes. I am in need of a room for a few nights, a bath, and food."

"I'll send Mac over and he can take care of the room and bath. Lunch is being served. Stew from last night with fresh baked bread. What would you like to drink?"

"Water. Lemon or lime juice if you have it."

"We have apple juice, cider, grog, or mulled wine. Beer and good wines are available."

Mulled wine sounded good right now. The warmed spiced beverage of this region would be welcome in my nearly frozen stomach. "I'll have water and a tankard of the mulled wine."

I did not bring out any money so her eyes narrowed and she said, "That will be two copper for the food and a copper for the mulled wine."

I remembered the last time I paid in advance. I received burnt meat surprise, three-day-old bread—and very little of that—and the wine was nearly undrinkable and came long after I ordered. I took a couple of silver pieces from my pouch and said, "I'll pay and tip when I receive and approve of the food and drink."

She smiled when she saw the silver and quickly turned and nearly ran off to the kitchen. She yelled at the bartender when she passed. "He has silver and needs a bath and bed, daddy."

The bartender slowly came around the corner of the bar and made his way toward my table. His walk, size, and the well-worn great spiked club hanging from his belt told me that this bar gets busy and he does the bouncing. He asked, "I hear you need a room and bath, sir?"

"Two or possibly three nights, and a hot bath today, after lunch."

"I have a single room for one silver a night, or you can share with the two merchants for three copper a night. The bath is two copper. Both are paid up front."

"The single is a closed room with a fresh bed?"

"It has a door and lockable shutters. I'll have the boy change out the hay in the bed for another copper."

"That will be fine. The bath is fresh water?"

"Three days sitting but not used yet."

"Iron or brass tub?"

"Iron."

I said, "Water in an iron tub smells like rust after a day or two. Change the water and I'll pay three copper for the bath."

"Done."

I paid him four silver and he returned six copper and then he asked, while thumbing his club, "You're not here to start any kind of trouble, are you?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"Three rules in this place. One, leave my daughters alone. Pinch or smack their bottoms hard enough to leave a mark and I'll return the favor. Two, fights inside will cost the winner cleanup fees. Blood is hard to scrub out of the floor. Three, let people have fun. They come here to drink and forget their lives and wives for a little while. Let them."

"I understand, but I will protect myself if someone becomes violent."

"You should. Try not to kill unless absolutely necessary. Tends to cut down on repeat customers."

He turned and went back to the bar. It wasn't long before the young wench came out with a full plate of fresh, hot stew with lots of meat in it and a full loaf of bread with plenty of butter. A younger sister was carrying the water and the mulled wine. They set them down, and I tried the stew. It was hot and good. The mulled wine was very good, and I paid for both and tipped both the girls well.

The little one looked at the two coppers I gave her and had no idea what to do with them.

The older bent down and whispered, "Put it away like I showed you, and don't let Momma know."

She tucked them into her dress top, and as she turned to leave, they dropped out the bottom. I coughed and they turned. I motioned toward the floor. The little one opened her dress and looked all over for her coins and then snatched the coins off the floor and ran for the kitchen.

The older girl whispered, "Thank you, my lord," and then turned to leave with a smile.

I sat there enjoying my lunch and watching everything that happened. My anger and pain I kept to myself. Eventually my bath was ready and the serving wench led me to a room in the back with a tub full of hot, fresh water and soap. I started to undress until I noticed she was watching, so I took her arm and gently led her out and closed the door. I put a chair against the door and jammed it shut. I checked the shutters and placed my dagger between the handles to ensure they remained closed. Then I took off my cloak, haversack, quiver, leather armor, boots, and weapons. I climbed into the water and it felt wonderful. It was my first hot bath in a month of traveling. I let the soapy water soak into my body and warm my sprit. I scrubbed every stitch of clothing I had and hung them up to dry, and I then relaxed in the water for two hours while thinking about my loss. It was hot and moist in the tub room, but the cold air from outside was creeping in and I needed to check out my bedroom. I reluctantly stood up and used the pail of water on the side to rinse. It was not hot, and I yelled when the snowmelt hit my skin. There was a knock on the door.

"Are you all right, my lord?"

"I am fine, but next time, HEAT THE RINSE WATER!"

There were giggles and a, "Yes, my lord."

I performed a song called "Undampen," which dried my clothing and me. I put away my traveling clothes and donned performing clothes. I put away most of my weapons and took my dagger down from the window and sheathed it in my boot. I kept eight throwing daggers hidden in my pants and shirt. Then I put my cloak on to cover up what I was wearing and to hide my face. I unblocked the door, picked up my haversack and quiver, and walked out.

The girls were right there waiting. This was a perfect time for them to take a bath without having to carry in and heat more water. Besides, their mother did not want to waste expensive soap for the bath or wood for the fire. They shut the door after them. I walked past the cook and said to their mother, "Very good lunch. Thank you." She smiled but said nothing.

I walked out to the main room and the bartender said, "Top of the stairs, first door on the right. Best room I have. The bed has already been changed, and I saw to it he did it right. Don't have a cleric or wizard around to do a spell to keep the bugs away."

I said, "They charge too much. Besides, I can do that myself."

His eyebrows rose just a little. "Y ... yes, my lord. How long will the spells be good for?"

I knew what he was trying to find out. The longer the spell lasted, the more powerful the caster—and the lower he had better grovel. I hate the way people are made to bow down to others. I said, "Long enough." I climbed the stairs and took the first room to the right. It was a nice room, if somewhat simple, and smelled of fresh hay. The quilt was old and a little worn, but thick and cozy looking. There was a fireplace, and wood was stacked, but it was too early in the day to be lighting a fire for warmth. Firewood costs if you don't cut it yourself, and most tavern owners haven't the time. When this one's son and daughters are older perhaps things will change.

I put my haversack and quiver down and did a conjuration spell for my harp case and a good book. I took off my cloak and then returned to the main room and took that same seat by the fire.

The tavern owner saw my face and bowed. The perfect face, bold chin, small nose, and blond hair with blue eyes could only mean one thing: high class, possibly royalty—a baron's son or higher. The clothes said average wealth but not poor, and magic user—but not what kind. He saw the harp case and his eyes lit up. "You know how to play that harp, my lord?"

I said, "I am learning." The fact is, I have been trained by top bards in the royal court and am better than most. With my artifact harp of emotion, I am far better than any other. I placed the harp near my feet and opened the book. It was a good book—Elostand the Wise. According to the book, he was not as wise as he was very lucky. I continued to watch the comings and goings while taking time for dinner. As night fell, more people started showing up: men, women, children, and all their relatives. Everyone who came in took seats where they could look my direction. The children were seated up front, closer to me than the grownups. A harpist is a treat they don't get out here very often. Not at the end of known lands, the northern side of nowhere, the crossroads between no place and never been, the town called One Corner.

I marked the page with a piece of linen and closed the book while saying to myself, "Good book." I looked around and pretended surprise. I motioned for the young serving wench to come over, and she did, even though she was very busy bringing drinks to nearly thirty people. The room was overly crowded.

She asked, "Yes, my lord?"

"Two things. Water would be nice, and what are all these people doing staring at me?"

She smiled and yelled out, "Water!" across the room. One of the other girls raised her hand and yelled, "Got it!" Then she turned back to me and said, "They are waiting for you to play that harp." She turned with a smile and walked away.

I looked around the room and directly into some of the children's eyes and picked up the book. The disappointment was nearly palpable. One girl started to tear up, but she stopped when she saw me hold the book up and it disappeared. They clapped. This was going to be an easy crowd. Then they entered.

It was a party of five adventurers: a lawful good paladin of Solbelli, wielding a great sword slung over his shoulder and wearing plate armor all shiny and clean; a cleric of Solbelli in his plate armor with symbols of his deity in places to show off his love for his god; a thief they called a rogue from the capital city with a rapier and quiver moving silently through the crowd; a barbarian from the plains, full of muscle and looking ready to snap a person in two; and a dwarf fighter with twin axes who appeared to be amused by the people. They were a powerful-looking group, and people quickly got out of their way. I recognized them as the five that had broken into my home, killed my wife and two children, killed my guards, and taken my property. I had been following them for sixteen weeks. There they were, and I had ten children sitting expectantly in front of me. There was nothing I could do just yet. I needed to work the crowd.

I turned to a man that looked like he was in charge of something. Old and wise, strong and sure. "Good Sir, I am just a simple bard, passing through, who happens to also play a harp. I don't know how good or bad I will be, and I don't want to disappoint these people."

The man said, "I am the sheriff, and I can assure you, my lord, if you can play at all, we will be most pleased."

I smiled and reached for my harp case. I wanted to scream and reach for a weapon, but I needed to carry this out. I alone could not take them.

I placed the case on an empty table near me and opened it up. The harp inside was one of exquisite beauty. Simple, yet elegantly carved of pure dragon ivory. It was one single piece, carved from a grand red dragon's tooth. The strings were platinum, and the red diamonds in the neck and soundboard were glowing in the firelight. I positioned the harp in my lap, and just before starting, I stopped and turned to the children. "Forgive me a second as I play a simple piece to warm up."

One of the boys said, "Sure."

A girl tapped him hard on the head and chastised him. "Where's your manners?"

He put a hand on his head, rubbing the spot, and said, "Sure, my lord."

I smiled and started playing a very basic piece—at least basic for advanced bards in the queen's court. The sudden and complete silence said it all. I played without emotion, but it was enough to bring joy and wonderment to the little crowd. The adventurers paid little attention but stayed quiet. They ordered dinner and ate in musical silence.

I looked at the boy when I was finished "warming up" and said, "Now I'm ready."

Cheers and clapping echoed off the walls, making them seem louder than they really were. I looked at the adventurers and sadness gripped me. I played a piece so old time could not remember, so new time would never forget, and so sad even the gods cried. I was in tears the entire time, and the tears absorbed into the harp as they dripped down my face. When I was finished, a girl came up to me crying and gave me a hug. The old and wise sheriff said, "Lost someone close to you recently, son?"

I said to them, "My entire family was murdered by a group of adventurers. I am sorry. It is difficult for me to play when I can so recently remember the joy my children had at listening to me. Let me try something happier. Something my boy would have liked." He nodded. I turned the harp to me and played a tune that had people up and dancing, children clapping and laughing, the sheriff remembering good times, and the gods were smiling. Then I tried one the queen always enjoys this time of year. A peaceful song that speaks of warm fires, cozy beds, and a relaxing book. My voice was strong and quiet, and I was in great form. Each sound, each syllable, was perfect and something to cherish. Even the boy was hugging his sister.

I was ready. It had to be done. I could wait no longer. My next song spoke of dragons and demons and caused wonderment at the beauty of flight. The sheriff was smiling like he remembered the days when he had flown. Then I turned to a story of great sadness. I told them how five adventurers had entered my home and destroyed everyone I have ever loved. How they had done this only because I was not human and this gave them the right to kill my wife and children. They rose in anger when I said, "And they are eating dinner in this very tavern right now."

Outrage poured from the children and parents and they changed into their true demon forms. The five had no chance. It happened so fast they didn't have time to pull weapons. They died in the carnage of the very quick and one-sided battle. The sheriff himself ate the paladin. I stayed two more days, celebrating with the little demons and their parents and helping with magic where I could. Most of my time was spent telling great stories of some of the most powerful of our kind and the battles the humans had forced us into to protect our realms.

Chapter Two

The Druid

The little princess entered the breakfast chamber and found, to her pleasant surprise, that her father was there eating. She walked up to him and gave him a hug, which he returned gladly.

"It is nice to see you, daughter. You are very radiant today. Is this a special day? Did I forget a birthday or anniversary?"

The princess said, "No, Father, I have been happy a lot lately."

The king said, "I am not complaining, you understand, but what is causing you this great happiness? It is not your norm."

She said, "Every day, for weeks now, a little songbird has landed on my windowsill and watched me getting dressed in the morning. I do not know who lost it, but it allows me to touch it and pet its feathers. When I am ready to leave, it flies off, and then it returns at night to watch me prepare for bed. It is the most precious thing I have ever seen."

When the king heard this he roared with anger. "Guards!" he exclaimed. He paused and then spoke to the princess. "Daughter, I hate to tell you this, but I am at war with a druid. He came here demanding payment for cutting into his forest. HIS FOREST! I am the king. All forests are mine! The nerve of the man! When I called for his head, he turned into a small songbird and flew away. I thought I was rid of him. Now I find that he has been watching my own daughter dress and undress every morning and night. I will have his head and burn down his forest. So what if we inadvertently destroyed his home. He was not given permission to live there."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Sword and Sorceryby John Ricks Copyright © 2012 by John Ben Ricks Sr.. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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