High War - Chapter 19.1

Bent, twisting trees with exposed gray roots grow in clusters. Ferns with spiky leaves are clumped around their bases, while moss and vines climb the trees themselves. Water as brown and solid-looking as dirt covers the ground everywhere else, with grasses sticking above the surface and broad-leaf plants rising high in the rare patches of sunlight.

A turquoise snake slithers from a section of ground into the water. Two yellow eyes open ahead of it and a tan crocodile thrashes out of hiding to grab the snake in its jaws. They struggle for a moment, but soon the crocodile settles down with its meal.

Zarah leaps above the crocodile, her black cloak and Scarfenstein streaming behind her. She jumps from a tree root, to a branch fallen in the mud, to another root, and from there to a tree fallen sideways in the crook of several others. With her hands held out at her sides she dashes up the tree and jumps from the tip to another tree root ahead.

“Could you two, not fucking make it, look so easy?” Her breaths come in gasps as she continues running just above the swamp. Zarah's eyes dart around, tracking ahead of her feet. “This is, fucking unfair.”

The Drunk chuckles. He bounces from tree to tree above her, soaring through the air. “It is easy, lass. You're the one making it difficult.”

Klax shakes his head. “Light has blessed you in many ways, Drunk.” He darts from side to side, staying several helms behind Zarah. His feet are surrounded by an aura of white light, and he skates atop the surface of water and ground with equal ease. “But the Drunk is correct. Miss Teal did suggest going with them. We have no right to complain now.”

“Lad, that's nay what I meant.” The Drunk flips over and sails through the air like a leaf tossed in the wind. He shrugs as he passes through the branches of a thicket of trees. “Though I suppose both are true.”

Zarah grumbles at them. “How am I, making this, difficult?”

The Drunk strokes his chin as he runs along a thin branch. “How should I explain it.” The branch bends and he flits to another. “There was once a man who could be found at the bottom a every crime an villainy. And for every misdeed he committed ta solve one woe, two more would appear as a result.” The Drunk smiles and nods. “Aye, that's the idea. The high road may seem difficult, but the low road is worse upon wading in.”

The half-human glares down at the mud passing below her feet. “I'm not going, into that muck, for Light's sake.” She glances up at the Drunk. “It should be, impossible to do, what you're doing.”

Klax nods. “Many things would be impossible without Light.” He crouches down to skate below a low branch.

The Drunk laughs. “Aye, lad. Now I learned the trick a lightness long ago. I was living in a city-type place where the trees were as big as houses and there was no ground below. If ya fell there, death would only come from starvation. And the forest, aye, the forest went on forever. Or is that a lie?” He tilts his shaggy head to the side. “Huh, I miss the boy already.”

“Lightness? I know, fucking lightness.”

Zarah pulls the Cleaver from an inner pocket of her black cloak and swings the massive sword through the air, chopping several trees in her path. They tumble down behind her; Klax darts far to one side to go around the pileup.

“Nobody but me, can fight with, the Dragon Cleaver.” Zarah puts the sword away again and smiles. “It's the world's, sharpest feather, in my hands.”

“Aye, lass. To be light as a feather an swift as a dragonfly. That's the trick ta tree-running.” The Drunk smiles down at her. “You could master the knack for it with a decade or two a practice.”

She snorts. “A decade?” Running up another fallen tree, she leaps into the air.

Zarah's cloak flaps behind her. After she takes a deep breath at the apex of her jump, the cloak stays suspended in the air. She lands on a thick branch, and even as it dips low she jumps to a higher one. Each tree limb becomes a spring-board for her next hop, but soon she is losing height with every other transfer. A branch snaps. She leaps too late, lands half-on the next, slips off, and falls toward the mud with arms flailing.

The Small Folk raises a hand. “Light, please catch Zarah!”

A bubble of light forms around the half-human. Suspended within, she plops into the muck and floats on the surface. Klax pushes the bubble toward an island of twisting trees and half-solid ground, and as he comes to a stop the light disappears from his feet. A few snakes and frogs escape from the bushes into the water. The bubble pops and Zarah falls to the dirt.

“I had it!” She sits up and crosses her arms, still breathing hard. Scarfenstein curls tighter around her neck and she pets the scarf. “I'll stay up there, next time.”

Klax sighs. “Please don't endanger yourself, Zarah. You can drown in a swamp if you are not careful.”

The Drunk swings down to stand beside the Small Folk. “He's right, lass. I once drowned in a swamp. Or was it a man I knew?” He scratches his shaggy hair and nods. “Try as he might, the thick water would not let him swim to the surface. He sank deeper and deeper but there was no bottom to hit. Something was dragging him down.” The Drunk shakes his head. “But I don't know how the man survived.”

The Small Folk looks up at the Drunk. “Are you feeling well? Light tells me that you are sharing stranger stories today. Yet I have not noticed you drinking.”

“Ha, you've gone an reminded ma, lad.” The Drunk pulls his hip flask out and takes a long swig. He belches, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and glances around. “It's these trees. They do something ta ma head.”

Zarah stands and smacks her knees. “Well that was fun. You two should stay right here and talk about drowning until you're both old and gray.” She grunts, takes a deep breath, and leaps to a root away from the patch of ground. Her cloak floats weightless behind her.

The Drunk chuckles. “Are we in a hurry?” He races after her and again takes to the higher branches.

Klax nods and looks down at his feet. “Light, please grant me your swiftness.” The aura of white light appears around his feet, and he follows the other two.



Deep within the swamp sits an island of wood chips and gravel. In the middle stands a three-story building with a red tile roof, gleaming stucco siding, and no windows. A sign above the double swinging doors reads, 'The Wa-Fi-Oni Inn.' Coming to a stop at the edge of the swamp, the three travelers stare at the out-of-place refuge. The sun in the sky looms low ahead of them.

The Drunk sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Something smells terrible.”

Klax shivers. “Much as I would wish to rest, Light cautions me against this place.”

“Uh huh.” Zarah shrugs and walks toward the front door. “But I'm tired and hungry and this has to be the only place for miles around. You two don't have to follow me.”

“The lass speaks as if we have a choice,” the Drunk mutters down to Klax. “I've slept in worse smelling places, but not much worse.” He and Klax walk after Zarah.

The Small Folk nods up at the Drunk. “Light tells me you mean other than the swamp's aroma. What does it smell like?”

The Drunk waves a hand in front of his nose. “Like a horse stable, but without the sweet mixing a fresh hay.”

Arriving at the building's entrance ahead of them, Zarah stiff-arms the double doors. They remain closed, and she smacks against them with a grunt. Zarah jumps backwards, looks around, and then kicks the doors. Still they do not move. She reaches for the inner pocket of her cloak.

The doors swing outward and a thickset man pokes his head out. “Hello?” He smiles at Zarah and steps outside, wrapped in a mold green robe. “Oh, hello and welcome, customers!” A bottle of pale yellow liquid appears from his open sleeve and he pumps the handle to spray a heavy mist on himself. “I am sorry about the barrier, but the insects and vermin are really a nuisance around here.”

Klax nods, his eyes watering. The Drunk gags, sneezes several times, and covers his nose and mouth.

Zarah rolls her eyes. “Then warn people! But whatever. Are you the innkeeper? How much for one night and meals?”

The man's jowls spread with a wide smile. “Ah huh! I am O-Rem Nio and this is my Wa-Fi-Oni inn! The best sleep you will have in your life. Please come inside, it is impolite for me to talk of geld on the doorstep.” He backs through the door, waving for them to follow, and then thumps away.

Zarah turns around. The Drunk looks pointedly back at the swamps. Klax only stares at her.

The half-human sighs. “Okay, yes, it's sketchy. But the choice is either here, or outside. I'm staying here.”

The Drunk points to the swamp again. “There's ways ta sleep soundly out there, lass. And the mud will make your skin softer.”

“I think,” Klax frowns, staring down at his feet. “Light tells me to remain at your side, Zarah. I will stay as well.”

“Eh,” the Drunk grunts and stares down at Klax. “You're loyal to a fault, lad.” He sighs and nods at Zarah. “Okay, I'll stay. But I'll find what smells and it won't be pretty when I do.”

“Sure, roll around in it, I don't care.” Zarah pushes the swinging doors. This time they open, and she enters the inn.

The front room is lit by long tubes of glass that glow a steady orange. As the three walk in the glass bulbs all change to a soft blue, transporting them beneath the sea. The chairs and tables are all of a transparent material that absorbs and reflects the light, changing their color as well. The walls and floor are the same smooth stucco as outside, although the entire length of the right-hand wall is a mirror.

Only three of the twelve tables have patrons. A party of two humans, one half-human, and two Small Folk dressed in dented and muddy armor drink in the corner, each bristling with weapons. Another table is surrounded by nine frail men and women of various races, all wearing black priests robes; the eldest lectures them in whispers. Two middle-aged Small Folk and a young orc in simple clothing eat a light meal near the door.

Along the mirrored wall are racks of bottles in every shape and size. A smoky opaque glass bartop stands in front of the wall, with stools of the same transparent glass as elsewhere. Two Small Folk in black leather armor share a bottle of wine at the far end of the bar.

A tall man clad all in metal armor sits at the bar nearer to the door, a greatsword and a longspear strapped to his back. He glances over and smiles at Zarah. His hair is silver and his eyes a piercing red.

“Hello!” O-Rem thumps over from behind the bar. “Allow me to seat you, my customers. Would you like a table?”

The Drunk licks his lips. “A seat at the bar will be fine, my good lad. How old is your cheapest wine? Do ya have any specialty beers?” He walks over and sits at the middle of the bar. Zarah and Klax follow him and sit at his sides.

“Ah huh! We have the best selection you will see in your life.” O-Rem thumps behind the bar and offers a small paper menu to each of the three in turn with both of his hands. “The economy drinker will find very suitable prices here, as well as our selection of local foods. Anything else that you wish can be provided, at requisite cost.”

Klax nods at his menu. “Hmm, Grilled Eel? My Light, you have Boiled Tuber and Vlak pie? I haven't had that since I last visited my grandmother.” He smiles at O-Rem. “One of the pies, please.”

Zarah leans across the Drunk and slaps Klax with her menu. “Hey, what's vlak?”

The Small Folk grins. “Earthworm meat.”

The half-human blinks and turns back to O-Rem. “Eh, is the catfish casserole any good? I'll have that.” Scarfenstein coils around her neck, and she nods. “And if you slaughter any animals tonight, bring me the fresh blood.”

O-Rem smiles at her first question and frowns at her second, but the Drunk speaks before he can reply. “Aye, these are all too good sounding. Do ya have a sampler? Or can ya throw all the odds an ends together an give me that for cheap?”

The innkeeper bows to them all, and gives Zarah a wink. “Ah huh! I will bring everything at once, my customers.” He turns, walks away to the end of the bar, and vanishes through a door.

Klax pats the Drunk on the arm. “Light wishes you to eat food as well, Drunk.”

The Drunk chuckles. “Is that so, lad? Do ya know there is good an healthy vegetables in beer?”

Above them the lights turn from blue to a rosy pink like the inside of a flower. The man with red eyes walks over to Zarah. “Excuse me, milady. Are you taken?” He chuckles and pats the open seat beside her. “Oh, pardon me. I meant this seat. Is this seat taken?”

Zarah snorts. “What?” She glances back at the Drunk and Klax, who are grinning and frowning respectively. The half-human turns back to the man. “Yes to both. But give me your best shot, I could use a laugh.”

He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. “Oh? I thought that was my best. But if it will make you laugh, I do have the other.” He bends down on one knee. The man smiles up at her, his eyes locked with hers. “What can I, your lowly servant, do for you, milady?”

She tilts her head to the side and considers him. “Not bad.” Zarah turns to the Drunk and Klax. “You two can get drunk or whatever you want tonight. I'm leaving in the morning, with or without you. Meet me outside at dawn or get left behind.” She turns back to the man in armor. “Let's chat.”

Zarah stands, takes the man's arm, and pulls him back to his former seat. She sits beside him. Klax stares after her, frowning.

The Drunk scowls down at his menu. “Up at dawn? That's a bit unreasonable.”