Haven's Addiction

“Occam’s razor,” I blurted out a little louder than I expected.

“What?” Someone replied, I wasn’t sure who.

“The law that the most direct solution is most likely the best one.”

“Meaning,” this time it was Gerald. I would know his condescending tone anywhere.

“We go right through.” The silence that cut the air was more awkward than the entire days walk through the forest. I couldn’t tell if they thought I was a complete moron, were considering the idea, or both; probably both. I was glad to be invisible, because my face turned beet red.

“Why?” Gerald called out, trying to follow my reasoning.

“Because it’s what they least expect,” I responded, rolling with it. “How many people in the world would be able to identify a Burstshroom on sight?”

“Relatively few,” Edic responded. “They are very rare and closely resemble other mushrooms. In fact they often thrive with Angish mushrooms, which are very aromatic and tasty. Wild animals will eat the Angish nearby and bite into a Burstshroom by mistake, getting a face full of toxic spores.”

“So most people would walk right into them without even realizing it until it was too late, especially if they had the wolves on their tail. Those who did recognize them would do exactly what we’re doing, try to discover a way past them without setting them off, which we might be able to do, but not before a patrol of wolves comes by and picks us off.”

“Besides,” I gestured towards the barrier of shrooms, forgetting that they couldn’t see me, “these clearly aren’t natural. Any trespassers who didn’t recognize them would proceed with caution, one careful step at a time, moving too slowly to avoid getting hit by the spore cloud.”

“Are the wolves immune to the spores?” Gerald inquired.

“No,” Boregard responded. “The wolves we encountered last night were feral lycans. Much more vicious, but dangerous and uncontrollable. Placidious wouldn’t want them anywhere near his town.”

“So if we go through, they won’t follow us,” Edic added.

“The spores are a perimeter defense. The wolves are an outer perimeter defense,” I deduced. “If we simply run right through them as fast as we can, we could possibly stay enough ahead of them that we only get hit by a minimal amount of spores.”

“It would be a lot easier to find cover in the town than we ever could out here in the forest,” Boregard agreed.

“We possibly have allies within the town, but their positions may have been compromised,” Gerald mulled it over. “But what other choice do we have?”

After surprisingly little deliberation we decided to make a made dash for Placid. We each picked a spot. The plan was simple. We set up a line with each of us at least ten feet apart from each other with a clear shot to the clearing beyond the woods. When Gerald gave the signal, we all take off running as fast as we could.

The anticipation mounted, dragging on for minutes, or at least what seemed like minutes. I waited for that magic moment when Gerald would give the signal, as I was sure everyone else was. If Gerald really wanted to get rid of me, this would be his chance. He could simply give the signal to the others and not me. I would then get doused by spores in their wake and would be dead. His problem with me would be solved without reflecting badly on him. I was sure that it crossed his mind. Despite my prevailing over the horde of werewolves, I could tell he thought I was a complete screw up. I could see him not giving me the signal just so I didn’t get jittery and lunge into an early start, getting everyone else killed. It would be better to get just me killed than the rest of the entire team.

I was ready to run at the slightest provocation, but dead set on not making a mistake. Even though I gave the wolves a serious beat down, I still screwed up in the first place by getting duped into dropping our shield. I couldn’t afford to make another mistake or Gerald would have my head, possibly literally, despite whatever glowing recommendation Drognaus may have given on my behalf.

I held my ground waiting for the signal. The moment it came I couldn’t think of anything else but running. I set my sights on a fence post I could barely see off in the distance. Everything else was cleared of my thoughts as every ounce of energy was pumped into physical motion. My legs burned in an instant from all the effort put on them. The only other energy being spent was on the focus of the fence post, and drawing it nearer as quickly as possible. The terrain was difficult. My focus on the post was so intent that I didn’t even realize at the time why I had such difficulty running. The Burstshrooms were so thick on the forest floor, it was unavoidable that I would step on at least one with every step. They squished beneath my feet, like stepping on a water balloon. Each step threatened to make me lose my balance as the ground beneath every footfall gave way a few inches, but I didn’t have time to stumble. If I slipped up even once it would be game over. The Burstshrooms popped with a faint ‘poof’ that was barely audible, especially over my heavy breathing as I ran, and the pounding of my heart rate in my ears.

I didn’t know how the others were doing, and I didn’t even care. Each step flew by faster than my conscious mind could keep up with. Somehow my body managed to take over for me. My legs ran in my own personal version of ‘Relay for Life’. Whenever the shrooms beneath me gave way my legs automatically adjusted for the change in balance, corrected for it, changed course, shifted slightly, leaned in the correct direction to maintain balance, and stepped forward with insurmountable speed with the other leg, all in one continuous motion.

Before I even had time to register it I was at the post, but I didn’t stop there. My terrified fight or flight mode was stuck on flight and my body didn’t want to stop. I continued running as if the boogeyman himself chased me. For all I knew the spores were colorless, odorless, and tasteless, and could have been surrounding the very air I breathed, choking me to death without realizing it until it was too late. I didn’t want that to happen. While it seemed completely selfish of motivations, I merely wanted to live.

My olympic track and field tryouts came to a sudden halt as I came up to a gray rock in the field about as tall as my knee. I could have easily hurdled over the thing if it hadn’t risen from the ground. It rose to just about waist height when I ran smack dab into it and went rolling to the ground.

The world went spinning out of control with the rock, which I now realized was a person, tumbling with me. When the world finally decided to stop spinning I looked up. Vincent stood over me with his hand out to help me up. He wasn’t even out of breath. I took his smug hand and got to my feet. Next to me Boregard helped up the living rock, which unfolded upright to be a person just a few inches shorter than me. Boregard wasn’t winded either. Edic and Gerald came over, very much out of breath, to see what happened.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” I quickly apologized to the person Boregard helped up, still trying to get in enough air to form words. My lungs burned all the way down with each breath.

He looked pretty plain. A young man about my age with the scruffy beginnings of a beard from a few days of growth, reminding me that I hadn’t shaved since we left Drognaus’s castle. The clothes could best be described as that of a peasant. Plain rags dyed black, but now faded to gray with age, worn with use, and from working in the sun, that looked to be handmade.

Before he had the chance to respond, Gerald chimed in “My apologies, Our map has us headed east towards the Unterlands.”

Which didn’t make a bit of sense. The direction we traveled to get to Placid was north by northeast. And what the hell were the Unterlands? Either the man didn’t register this, or ignored it and gave a response of his own that was equally indiscernible.

“We have crackers to bide you until you find your way,” the man said. His voice sounded very polite and respectable, not at all what I would expect from a random peasant out working in the field.

At first I thought my translator was on the fritz and I wasn’t understanding what they were saying, but they all seemed to get it. The guy started leading us toward the town. Maybe it was some sort of lingo that I wasn’t quite jiggy with yet.

I gave Gerald an inquisitive look when the stranger turned away. He gave a nod that everything was all right. Then I got it. This was one of Drognaus’s spies. This was how they knew exactly what went on in the town, and the approximate thickness of the forest. The phrases were code words to verify their identity. Innocuous words that could fit into any conversation, but when said just the right way to just the right person, and that person giving a precise response, it meant something specific to both of them.

The peasant/spy led us to a wall at the edge of the village, indicating the border of town, pressed a certain spot on the wall, and a doorway opened where we were led inside. We were guided through a series of passageways without a word. Nobody told us to be quiet, but there was the strong presence that silence was tantamount to our survival. With the silencing magnets still attached to our shoes it was relatively easy. Moments before we ran for our lives through the forest. This wasn’t that dissimilar from my first experience in arriving in Haven. Everything happened in such a whirlwind that I didn’t’ even have time to realize what was happening and register it until long after. I wondered how long this ordeal would be before I would be able to mentally catch my breath. From the state of things so far, probably not until we returned to the castle with the Grimoire.

There were so many twists and turns in the narrow passageway, I lost track of where we were going. Paranoia set in as I thought the passage was designed to make us lose direction so we wouldn’t be able to escape on our own. I got so turned around that I had no idea which direction we were headed, but did feel like we were gradually going downwards. If not for the urgency of where we were led, I probably would have been terrified of the claustrophobia and near pitch black darkness. What little light we did have came from cracks in the walls and ceiling as we passed through town in silence. I could occasionally hear people in the distance having casual conversations on the other side, but with the speed we traveled through the passage, there was little concern that we would be discovered.

Finally the passageway came to an abrupt halt. It was a narrow passage and we were all filed in a row with me in the rear, again, but since I was taller than everyone else in the party, I could see enough ahead to know that it was a dead end. I began to think that this person had led us into a trap. No sooner did I begun this thought than a doorway opened up ahead of us, just narrow enough to pass through. I didn’t realize how dark the passageway had been until the opening brought a wave of piercing light in.

The room we were escorted to was dimly lit by only a few lanterns, but compared to the darkness of the secret passageway it was like stepping into stage lights.

“It is safe to talk now,” the man said as he lit another lantern to illuminate the room.

With the brighter illumination I could tell that we were in a cellar. It was exactly what you would expect from an old cellar. There were large wooden barrels of wine, meade, or some form of alcoholic substance. There were a lot of them too. It was like a wine cellar for a family of hardcore alcoholics. As screwed up as this region of Haven was it wouldn’t surprise me if the people here needed to get blitzed on a regular basis.

The rest of the cellar was filled with shelves. It reminded me of my grandfathers root cellar filled with all the food he canned during the growing season that he would end up sharing with the rest of the family. Only these shelves were mostly empty. A few cans and jars littered the shelves, but they didn’t amount to much of anything. It reminded me of my kitchen cupboard when I’m in desperate need to go shopping with only a can of lima beans, some bouillon cubes, and some pumpkin pie filling in the cabinet. What remained of the room was covered in dust and cobwebs. It didn’t look like the cellar had been used in months.

“It is safe to speak here,” the man spoke up, “but do not cast any magic, it can be detected.”

For the first time I got a good look at the man I tripped over in the field. He looked like a gaunt and haggard middle aged man. His skin was weathered from too much sun, but it was more like a tan than a farmer who spent years in a field, their skin the hide of thick leather. The once energetic man now looked tired and weary.

I must have scraped my arm on something on my way through the passageway, because I had a raw spot on my arm that started to itch, and distracted me from the conversation.

“Where are we?” Gerald asked with an itch of his own.

“The village inn,” the man replied. I chuckled, thinking of the chain of restaurants by the same name back home, one of which was only a few blocks from our house. Suddenly I was hungry for pie.

“Are the wards secure down here?” Gerald asked, ignoring my giggling.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Why no magic?” Edic inquired. He seemed edgy and jittery.

“Placidious has wards throughout the village to detect any usage of magic.”

“Then how are we blocked from being intruded upon?” I inquired skeptically.

He paused for a barely perceptible moment, as if unsure of the validity of the question, let alone how to answer it. “His wards were placed when the village went into lock-down, long after we had already placed ours.” He looked at me, annoyed for even asking such a ridiculous question.

“You’ll have to excuse my green companion here,” Gerald interrupted, annoyed as usual. “He is new to the ways of magic.”

I was really irritated by this and wanted to snap back at Gerald, but held my tongue. It had nothing to do with knowledge of magic, but in not entirely trusting this guy. I’d never met him before, and obviously neither had Gerald or he wouldn’t have needed to resort to super spy code words to identify themselves. It could simply have been a matter of this guy lying. I was still cautious enough about this world and the capabilities of magic that I wasn’t about to take any chances.

“Understandable,” the man said. Then he looked at me and said, “we all have to start somewhere.”

Again I was irritated, far quicker than I should have been given the situation. I took a deep breath and let it slide. I squirmed where I stood and let the venerable spooks take care of the rest.

It turns out the mans name was John, apparently a common enough name even in a place like Haven. “I have been working at the inn as a cover for Drognaus to keep tabs on his errant brother for the last five cycles. As the innkeeper I had a great cover. Travelers frequent the inn without raising suspicion, as well as being the place that locals would hang out to gain intel from.”

“However, six months ago that all changed. Almost overnight the Burstshrooms appeared around the town, and the wolves beyond them. The village was completely cut off from the outside world. The townspeople have always had a rocky relationship with Placidious. He didn’t treat them well, and they respected him merely out of fear. The land here is extremely fertile with a bounty of crops. Farmers tended to their crops and Placidious mostly had nothing to do with the village or its residents at all. When the quarantine went into effect, it had little effect on the village. Hardly anyone in the village knew how to use magic, so the newly placed wards, cleverly disguised as decorative placards about the town, would set off a warning to those in the castle of any magic being cast. They would then hunt down the usurpers.”

“Placidious became extremely paranoid as of late. Most citizens of the town, however, didn’t even to notice. It was business for usual for them. Sure they couldn’t leave, but they also hadn’t left the town in their entire adult lives. The earthen magic Placidious placed around the town to grow his Burstshrooms made all plant life in the area blossom. The villagers were more prosperous than ever with their crops reaching unheard of levels.”

Edic was right that the growth of Borkin weed had been an accident. Either it grew naturally, or a few had been planted to help disguise the scent of the wolves, but the plant magic made it grow out of control.

“Placidious ingeniously bragged about being responsible for the earth magic and claimed that the defenses around the village were to keep outsiders from coming in and stealing their good fortune.”

“And everyone believed this?” Boregard asked.

John nodded, begrudgingly. “Along with a new fertility to the land, Placidious brought in an entirely new kind of crop that was significantly more profitable for them. Trade with other villages was made through him. Any requests villagers made that needed to be imported were provided by Placidious, and he went out of his way to get them whatever they wanted. He went from being a feared overlord to a beloved benefactor almost overnight. They were turning a handsome profit and living the good life, completely oblivious of their gilded cage.”

“The inn, of course, has died off because of the lack of travelers,” he said with a sad tone. “I’ve tended the field nearest the edge of the spore barrier to keep an eye out for Drognaus’s agents. My cover raised little suspicion, as the inn was obviously in financial difficulties. I appeared to be desperate for the work, and nobody else would dare go near the spores. All of the other fields were on the east and north edges of town, plenty of distance away from the spores. The west side of town is dominated by a small mountain where Placidious’s stronghold stands.”

At least that’s the general gist of what he said. The chafing that started from days of riding and walking were catching up to me and itched terribly, so I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been. The urge to scratch at it was overwhelmingly distracting.

“How well guarded is his stronghold?” Vincent asked, his voice sounded grated.

John seemed taken aback. “There are none.”

“None at all?” Boregard was confused.

“There is no need to be,” he stated very matter of fact. “The townspeople are pacified and content with their deep pockets, he has several townspeople in his direct employ, spies of his own to keep an eye out for intruders. Between the wolves and the spores, nobody has entered the village in over six months. Which is just as well, all of the town would have turned on them in an instant. He already has all the security he needs.

“Arrogant bastage,” Gerald muttered as he shook his head, rubbing his scalp. “At least it will be his downfall.”

“Getting through the citadel will be easy since there are no guards on the castle grounds itself,” John informed us, “but getting there will be difficult. He has this town so convinced that all outsiders are the enemy out to steal their good fortune. They will attack you on sight and alert Placidious.”

“I don’t get it.” Edic fidgeted, “How can the town be so oblivious to imprisonment?”

“Garic root,” John admonished. That answer seemed to satisfy Edic, but not me.

“What’s Garic root?” I asked.

“It’s used as a base component in a lot of dark potions,” Edic responded.

“It’s highly illegal and dangerous,” Vincent added, rubbing his side, “and sells at a nominal price to the right individuals.”

“It is difficult to grow in all but the most fertile of lands under specific conditions,” John said. “Like he said, it is very profitable. The village thrives like never before thanks to Placidious. They don’t know what the root is used for, and don’t care so long as the currency keeps coming in. There is also a small mine in the mountain beneath where Placidious keeps his citadel.”

“What kind of mine?” Gerald asked.

“Tope crystals,” John responded.

Gerald blurted out a profanity unlike any I had ever heard before. My look of puzzled astonishment resulted in Edic’s explanation, “it’s another sought after component for the manufacture of magical items.”

In all actuality I didn’t really care what the crystals were. I was astonished at the fact that Gerald swore. While he may have seemed like a grumpy old codger, at his core he reminded me of my uncle Gary who would swear on such rare occasions that it was legendary.

“He is up to something,”Gerald grumbled, covering for himself. “He is either using the components to assemble something for a grand scheme, or using the profits of their sale to fund it.”

“It may be for the money,” John agreed. “I can’t get close enough to Placidious to tell his plans. He doesn’t let any of the townspeople into the castle. He stays pretty tight lipped, but I can guarantee that even though the village is profiting handsomely, it is still not anywhere near market price. He’s making a fortune, but for what means?”

“To assemble a dragon army?” I asked. Everyone grumbled in agreement, except for John.

“What do you mean?” He seemed genuinely confused. “He already has a dragon. A powerful red dragon that is completely under his control.”

Gerald didn’t seem the least bit surprised by this. Just great, we would have to face a dragon. All the anticipation and excitement of finally meeting a dragon dropped like a lead ball in my stomach, making it more queasy that it already was.

“We will need to move fast,” Vincent interjected.

He had a point. The whole mission was based on the element of surprise. Sneak in, get the book, and sneak back out. Our attempts at sneaking in were already a failure. The wolves obviously knew of our presence. All of the Burstshrooms we ruptured would be a dead giveaway as well. Gerald relayed these concerns to John who shrugged them off.

“The wolves work independently and don’t have any direct communication with Placidious. The Burstshrooms have been affected by growth spells to the point that they they go off at the drop of a feather. They are set off all the time. Nobody checks them. Placidious set them up that way so he didn’t have to put any effort into security, and can focus on whatever it is he does up at his keep. If anyone does set them off they will die from the spores anyway.”

Then John paused, looking at us. “How Did you get through the fields?”

Gerald told him how. I noticed that while he spoke, he was itching like crazy. When I looked around at everyone else in the group, they were scratching all over as well, including myself. We were all so distracted by lurking through the secret passageway and the conversation that we didn’t even notice.

“We need to get the spores washed off immediately,” John said urgently. “You may not have gotten many on you, but it doesn’t take much. They cling to your skin and continue to burn until removed properly. Water alone won’t do it.”

I looked over at Edic who was nodding in agreement. We were immediately taken upstairs to the Inn. It was as rustic and plain as any hotel you would expect out in the middle of nowhere.

“Don’t worry about discovery,” John told us, “we haven’t had customers here in months because of the isolation. We have the place all to ourselves, and all of the attendants here are loyal agents of the Gold clan as well.”

We were each taken to our own room while a bath was drawn. After a few days of wearing the same clothes while getting sweaty and grimy, a bath sounded divine. By the time I stowed all my gear and stripped down to my skivvies, the bath was ready in the adjoining bathroom. It hadn’t registered until just then that all the places I went to in Haven had running water. Modern conveniences with a magical twist. It was likely a blending of magic and technology. Despite Haven’s insistence that the merging of magic and technology was the work of the devil, they sure had a lot of it with handmade pipes that carried water through a magical pump with a magical heat source.

And hot it was. The steam emanating from the giant tub made the aroma of the herbs and oils already in the water proliferate in the modest bathroom like a potpourri burner. The tub was like an old fashioned cast iron claw foot tub. My wife would have been jealous. It was exactly like the kind of tub she wanted in the house for years. A frail old woman was just putting the last of the curative oils in the tub.

“Your bath is ready sir,” she said in a genteel old voice.

“That was fast,” I marveled.

“Spore exposure has become fairly common as of late,” she informed me as she put the collection of bottles into a nearby cabinet. “They break frequently, and with a sudden change of wind one can find themselves itching and burning before they know it. Curing spore exposure has been the only thing keeping the Inn from shutting down completely.”

Indeed I was itching like crazy. So much so that the effort it took to keep from scratching left my hands trembling. The exposed skin that had been hit by spores felt like they were on fire from a chemical burn. I could see why they needed the baths to be ready at a moments notice. I couldn’t imagine how painful it would be if it continued untreated for much longer.

The old woman bowed her head and left the room. As soon as she was gone I was quick to remove the rest of my clothing and jump into the tub. The water was nearly scalding hot, but I didn’t care. It couldn’t have been as bad as the spore burns. If the burning continued much further I wouldn’t have been able to contain the screams of agony. As I slowly lowered myself into the tub, relief was almost immediate, like applying ointment on a burn.

The water was very warm, but with a cooling sensation all over my body. I laid back in the tub with my head resting on the lip. It was absolutely blissful. If it didn’t leave me feeling so calm and relaxed it would have been almost orgasmic. For the first time since arriving in Haven I felt truly relaxed. My eyelids started to get heavy as I began to drift off in a heavy sleep. It probably wouldn’t have been safe for me to fall asleep in the tub, but I didn’t care as I started a voyage into dreamland.

I was startled out of my drowsiness by something clattering to the ground in the room next to me and a loud thud that sounded like a body falling to the floor. It took a moment for it to register with my sleepy state of mind, like just waking up out of a deep, deep sleep with the world still spinning around you.

I tried to sit up in the tub, but wasn’t having much luck. My left arm had been submersed in the water, and wasn’t responding as well as I would have liked. When I finally got my left hand out of the tub it flopped limply like a dead fish. There was no feeling left in my arm. It was completely numb, like it had fallen asleep. So were my legs. Come to think of it, so was every other part of my body submersed in the water.

Hmm, I wondered to myself dreamily, that’s weird. The treatment for the spores is so effective that it numbs all sensation. Was it supposed to do that? As a dreamy afterthought I hypothesized that this would be the perfect trap. I was lying in a bathtub completely naked and unarmed. If someone came bursting through the door, especially with limited feeling and movement in my limbs, I would have no way to defend myself. Yet in my hazy state of mind I didn’t even recognize it as a real possible threat, just a random dreamy thought. I was so relaxed that I didn’t notice my spidey-sense screaming at me so hard that it should have left a ringing in my ears.

It wasn’t until someone did burst through the door that I snapped out of it and took note. The old woman charged into the room with what looked like a magic wand in hand. My reaction to the intrusion wasn’t at all what she expected. My mind was still hazy, but my instincts were still sharp. My right arm brought out a pistol from the bracers still attached to my wrist. My finger squeezed the trigger out of pure reflex and fired away without aiming, just with the pistol pointed in her general direction. I wasn’t sure how many rounds went off, but she was definitely hit. She returned fire with her own weapon, a burst of red fire that shot out of her wand as she fell. Caught by surprise, her aim strayed and it hit the end of the tub, blowing a hole in it. The water immediately started gushing out of the tub, all over the floor. Moments later the tub was completely empty.

While the effects of whatever caused my numbness didn’t disappear right away, the freezing burst of fresh air on my naked body made me more mentally alert. That old hag just tried to kill me! My mind was still hazy, but the overwhelming instinct to get get out of the tub seemed tantamount to my survival. If I was naked and exposed in the tub, so were the others.

I managed to muster up enough energy to crawl out of the tub with my right arm. All of my other limbs were still completely useless. I fell to the ground in a heap that normally would have hurt like hell. Apparently that was all the energy I had left to work with. I laid on the ground unable to do anything else but stare at the wand that slipped out of her grasp.

Huh, that looks familiar, was my last thought before losing consciousness.