Chapter 5

All was quiet in the town of Livingston. Birds chirped while they rested on the tree branches, dogs and cats were facing each other in an alleyway, the big battle for the butcher’s shop trash. Fred sat on the doctor’s office stoop and rubbed at his mechanical hand with his flesh and blood appendage.

He loved the morning. It even made him feel better sometimes, made him forget the aches and the pains and all that. But, in that particular morning, everything came back in force as he saw the Peacekeeper and the Mayor walking down the street towards him.

“How do, Fred?” asked the Mayor. He was a rumpled sort of man, continuously in disarray with a personality like a starched shirt. Fred did not like him and he felt no love coming from the mayor in return. “Where is our blighted stranger?” he continued.

“Doctor’s office,” Fred responded. “He is still unconscious.”

“Still?” the Mayor asked tapping at his glasses. “It’s been a day and a half. I’m not sure the city can continue to support his treatment and lodging for much longer. I feel as if we have done enough charity.”

“Oh, shut it,” Fred said. “You know I’ll pay for the whole damn thing.”

“Well,” the mayor smiled. “Since that’s resolved.” And he began walking away, not bothering to say goodbye.

Even the tap of his feet on the cobblestones annoyed Fred.

“You fall for that every time, Fred.” Said the Peacekeeper. She looked down at Fred and shook her head at him.

“You want to see him, May?” Fred asked.

Inside the doctor’s office, the two of them sat at a table and drank the good doctor’s hidden cache of booze.

“A giant tree?” May asked.

“I’m telling you. No joke. Just dragged him in, plopped him on the couch, told me to look after him, give him lodging and a job and then flit off to wherever it is magic trees go when they’re done for the night.”

“Having a nice drink of water, maybe? A little sun.”

“Well, it was night. Maybe he just went to bed.”

“He?”

“Had a beard and everything.”

“I see.” May said. She turned to the bed that Ben was currently rested in and waved towards him. “What do we do with him when he wakes up?”

“Ask him some questions I suppose. Not that we can do much while the Doctor’s wherever he is. Where is the good doctor, May?”

“Some accident at the Inventor’s laboratory.” May sighed and threw back what remained of the liquor cache they found and began putting her equipment back on. She found that her armor was getting heavier the more she advanced in age. Once she hit 40, May figured she’d become the sort of sheriff who sat behind a desk a lot, and nobody came at with flintlock, blade, nor any intention to harm.

“Going on your rounds?” asked Fred.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Be sure not to get killed, you hear?”

“I will be on the lookout for that. See you later Fred.”

Fred watched the Peacekeeper leave and felt a bit lonely. He sometimes regretted buying the town, sometimes regretted coming up in the mountains at all. A feeling had followed him from the family house down in the capital, to this wild place, and it looked like there was no getting rid of it. That worried Fred. The feeling of not belonging just stuck to him like water after a hard rain.

The man in the hospital bed snored gently. Fred stood with some difficulty and went to look at him. He poked him with a finger, just to see if the man wasn’t secretly spying on him. Perhaps he wasn’t sleeping at all but was faking it. Perhaps he was a spy or one of those detectives for hire that sometimes wives of men that ran away and got rich by blowing up a gunpowder reserve in the mountains had in their employ.

No.

No, of course, not. It was just paranoia. So Fred shook it out of his head, which did not do a very good job. After that he took a gulp of whiskey from his secret flask that he carried around with him. After that, Fred sat down next to the heater and let himself doze off.

When Fred woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the formerly unconscious soldier was wrestling with the town doctor. The second thing he noticed was that the soldier had one of the boots put on halfway on his foot.

“Get off me, you bear looking, bastard.” The soldier said and shoved a knee into the doctor’s side. The doctor roared, sounding a bit like a bear.

“You need to sit down. I don’t know how badly you’re hurt.” The doctor replied, shoving Ben backward and making him fall over the bed and end up sandwiched between the bed and the wall.

Ben huffed. “That’s the last woodland creature I let bully me.” He pushed off, dislodging himself, and kicked at the bed, which in return hit the doctor right in the shins.

Fred felt vaguely annoyed and embarrassed. The doctor howled and jumped around on one foot, while Ben sprinted out of the doctor’s office, tripped on the stairs, and slid on the cobblestones, scraping the skin off his hands.

“Oww,” Ben said, before getting away and running away.

As for Fred, he shambled out in the street and looked at the small marks of golden blood on the cobblestones. The doctor followed, fuming and limping.

“What’s wrong with his blood?” Fred asked.

“Some magic curse. Was taking a closer look when he came to and started freaking.” The bear-like doctor replied, shaking his hairy head. “And I was just getting into a nice routine. There’s going to be some amount of trouble, Freddie.”

“Hmm,” Fred responded. “Perhaps. I gotta go find May and tell her to bring him back before he gets lost.”

***

The Peacekeeper was walking towards the inventor’s plot of land, grumbling to herself and cursing the heat. The trail of workers shuffled and groaned as they tossed out small pieces of the destroyed building. May walked down the line and spat when the dust sat too roughly on her tongue.

The inventor came about not long after Fred. Once the founder made his golden mistake, the inventor, a man called Darby appeared and bought some land right in what was going to be the town. He then built up a shack and started figuring out ways how to hurt people and sell it to those people.

Affable and kind to most townsfolk, Darby even came down each week’s end and drank himself silly with all the other fools. May did not trust him. He seemed quite dangerous and even worse, just plain weird, but you don’t rightly get to choose your neighbors. Or was that saying about family? Well, either way, May disliked Inventor Darby even more than she disliked everybody else, which was quite a bit.

This Darby business plus the soldier booking it into the outskirts like the Librarian’s rabid foxwolf , did not put May in a happy mood. Not that she had one usually, as I said earlier, hate and all that. In the peacekeeper’s opinion, Fred was worried for nothing. The man would get eaten by the wildlife or some angry miner would straighten his teeth and soon enough, back to the doctor’s he would go.

“Where in the 3rd Hell is my deputy?” May said out loud. That damn deputy of hers. The boy was hired as a favor of the grandfather, which, seeing as it turned out, caused May to write a new rule in her little black book, that being: DO NOT MAKE PROMISES ON YOUR SUPPOSED DEATHBED, FOR YOU MAY LIVE TO FULFILL THEM.

It was the old doctor’s grandson, and the boy had horse feed for brains. With the old man eaten by worms some years back, May decided that the best way to keep the fool alive was to keep him in close quarters.

“INCOMING!” a voice yelled from above. People dispersed at once, jumping out of the way, with not a few of them landing in the ditches peppering the road.

May grunted and put a touch of magic into her shield. The blue, thin light enveloped her just as the explosion happened and bits of debris and shrapnel harmlessly bounced off her.

The inventor stood triumphantly at the top of the ridge, looking down on his domain. He took turns huffing to himself while nodding and scratching words in a little green notebook he carried around.

When the sound of May’s steps alerted him, the inventor greeted her without turning around.

“Anything better than the invention of gunpowder, do you think?”

“War crimes being added to the Battle Etiquette, I suppose,” May responded.

“Never much liked what we do here, did you?” The inventor said.

“Plenty of ways for humans to do harm to one another, don’t need a new one on the pile.”

“Changing warfare for the better, making lots of money. What’s wrong with all that?” the inventor laughed out loud.

“I guess all the death.” May responded.

“Pfft. Toughen up, May. Might just be worth it in the end. I’m not done just yet.”

“Speaking of,” the peacekeeper said, “What’s this I hear about an accident?”

“Nah, it’s not what you think. Some doofus overloaded a barrel, and it took one of his eyes in return. Something like that happens every day.” He said. A boom nearby caused bits of stone to rain down and catch in his hair.

“We need to talk about regulation one of these days, Darby.” Said the Peacekeeper.

“Aww, you really do care about me.” Darby smiled, showing a mouth half-filled with silver teeth. “But seeing as the King hasn’t seen fit to even acknowledge our existence, I don’t think he’ll be in any hurry to impose too many safety rules.”

“Well, it’s all the same until it changes. Someone must be coming one of these days. More and more of our ships go down filled with gunpowder and muskets. Any disruption will mean trouble.” Said the Peacekeeper.

“And if we keep sending them guns and ammo to continue the boot pushing on faces, nobody will bother us. Plus, the way I hear it, our dear old King’s got bigger troubles than us. Some colonies out west started raving about some freedom nonsense.” Said Darby.

“Just be careful, Darby. I quite like our life here.” Said the Peacekeeper.

“Really?” Darby asked. “Because, and real sorry about this May, but the way you walk around, it sure does not seem like you like anything.” The inventor looked aside, as if embarrassed. “I was thinking I could change that, if you meet me for a drink later.”

May frowned. “Instead of kicking you, I’m going to ask two things, and then I’ll kick you. Understood?”

“You’re not going to do that are you really?“ said Darby.

“Where’d you station the injured man and where’s my deputy?”

“Ouch, my shin!” Darby yelped.

***

“So,” said the Deputy, writing in his little notebook, furiously using his fingers as they began to cramp up and get covered in graphite. In turn, this stained the notebook’s pages and made a fair bit of the writing become unintelligible.

“So,” he repeated. “My job for today, is to err, find-find this man, that got hurt in the—In the Inventor’s, that’s Mr. Darby— “

“Doctor Darby. He likes it when people refer to him as doctor.” Said May.

“Yes, oh yes.” The deputy scratched the first few lines out of his notebook. “Doctor Darby.”

“Doctor Engineer Darby.” Said May.

“Doctor Engineer Darby.”

“His Majesty’s Doctor Engineer Mister Darby.” Said May smiling. She kept smiling and waited for her deputy, whose name was indeed Patrick, and not deputy, to get the joke, or at least show that he understood basic human interactions. Patrick, continued to mumble and write in his notebook, visibly, painfully dodging any attempt at humor.

“So, I’m going to find him.”

“No. He’s already found, by me. Well, I didn’t really find him. He just lives way over yonder, in the same spot he’s always lived and worked. No, Patrick, find the bloody injured man, interrogate him.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I will do that. But err, interrogate him about what?”

“Take note of his injuries, how he got them, who was around, and get Darby’s doctor to give you a written report on the whole thing. I’d feel a whole lot better to have written proof if there’s anything awry.” May said.

At this, Patrick looked up. “You don’t really think there’s anything suspicious going about, do you?”

May pointed her chin at him violently. “If you want to defend these people from themselves, you need to file down on the part of your brain that dispenses trust. Now, go. I have enough to deal with finding this runaway soldier that knocked the doctor over.”

“A soldier attacked the doctor?” Patrick asked, but changed his mind when he saw the look on May’s face. Instead of continuing the conversation, he pulled his hat out from his back pocket and walked away, whistling various songs when out of hearing range.

The deputy dealt with, May needed to track the soldier. Poor bastard thought the peacekeeper. A wave of pity cut through her. She was sure he did not mean to hurt the doctor, but had woken up in a strange place filled with even stranger folks and just got confused.

A sigh followed by pulling out her notebook, May started questioning the people milling about the inventor’s land. Nothing better for finding out what you want than asking some annoying questions of people who want nothing to do with you.

***

Ben ran until his lungs felt like fire in his chest and then ran some more. The cobblestones began to hurt under his feet, with pain radiating from the soles. Pushing through random people in a fish market, he tried to get over the nearest fence. His hands, scraped in the earlier escape, protested and Ben gave a cry of pain, letting go of the fence and falling on his back.

The world shimmered and twisted for a minute while Ben lay in the alley. It was time to agree that things had gotten out of hand lately. First, you’re on a battlefield and then a tree is knocking you about while a witch yells at you. Then you get thrown through a portal into a strange world, where crappy mountain towns lost to the world somehow have cobblestone roads? When did that technology advance? Were they too good for dirt roads? And why do the buildings look different and almost nobody’s wearing a sword. And a test? What test was the witch talking about? What about the headache and the things that Ben had seen after he was dropped in the portal.

The panic slowly but surely began to overwhelm and drown Ben. Trying to stand up, the young man began pawing at his neck, for he found himself unable to catch a breath. While his heart was trying to rip itself from his chest, Ben collapsed against the nearest fence and began to shake uncontrollably.

Pain and fear were the only things by his side for a good long while.

When he came out of the experience, Ben did not know how much time had passed. He had been pressed against the wooden fence, and could’ve been easily missed by any passing people. The shadows had gotten longer and the sun dipped beyond the mountain range. A cold wind began to shake the neighboring trees, making them rustle.

The immediate panic had gone away, but a terrible fear had filled him instead. What had caused the fear was unimportant, the most important thing seemed to be finding a hole in the ground and spending the rest of his life in it, so nobody could ever hurt him. But that was no way to live.

Ben cursed and stood up, feeling shaken and rattled. He looked around the shadows, checking to see if anybody was lying in wait, prepared to him harm. There was nobody but a few stray rats and a cat that chased them for sport.

Something was terribly wrong with Ben, that much was readily apparent. His memories were in a jumble and the side of his head was a spring of pain, pulsing through the rest of his body. He had trouble remembering his own name or where he came from.

His hands were burning, the bandages leaking golden liquid onto the street. Ben pried at them, trying to rip them off his arms, but it felt like ripping off his skin. After a few more embarrassing tries, he wiped his hands on his pants, leaking behind golden stains and walked on.

Ben crouched near the fence and watched the people in the street become fewer and fewer as the day continued. The fewer people populated the street, the more the wind was picking up. Something that might be worth investigating, thought Ben. They must be doing some intricate group elemancy to power up the windmills during the day. That or the wind was just picking up, and the people were headed home, done for the day.

Either way, Ben became tired of crouching, as his legs were in quite a bit of pain, as was the rest of him. First things first, before solving inter-dimensional mysteries, must have a good meal bubbling away in your stomach. Nothing seems impossible and hopeless once you’ve wolfed down some warm food.

The inn lay across the street, looking all innocent and sleepy. That was when Ben began his plan. He jumped up, and slowly slowly walked across the street, and around the back of the inn. Well, it wasn’t a very complicated plan. He just made sure nobody was around the back entrance and then he popped in.

The waiter was hanging around with the cook, drinking from some unholy bottle, and enamoring each other with tales of conquest. Ben thought he was caught when he stumbled and hit a chair with his leg, but the sound was muffled by a flyting contest at the bar. The host and the patrons were too busy throwing insults wrapped in poetry at each other to notice anything.

Soon enough, Ben found the pantry and began shoveling bread into his mouth, cheese, dried meat, and various bottles into his jacket. With the staff none the wiser, he snuck back out into the alley behind the inn and strutted away, happy with himself.

That is until the cook threw a quite large pan at the back of Ben’s head. Almost none the wiser, as it turns out, because the cook saw Ben and followed his outside.

“Oy, you scum.” Was all the warning he got. The bang resonated down the alleyway.

The pan had struck Ben right in his head. Before he could even complain about it, which was his first instinct every time he got hit, the bandages around his arms uncoiled and slithered towards the cook. The poor bastard tried to yell something, but the snake-like strips rolled around his neck and slammed him into the nearest wall.

With all danger passed, they flopped to the ground harmless.

Ben sat on his bottom, mouth agape. “Well, I don’t remember that ever happening before.” Running away, he tripped on the bandages and collapsed on the ground. “Not again!” he shouted. Rolling up the bandages around his arms, he quickly checked on the cook, who was only knocked out and enjoying a nice nap.

“Oh, you’re okay. That’s a relief. It’s bad enough being a thief.” Ben said, scratching at the back of his head in worry. “Tell you what, mister unconscious cook man, my boots are quite expensive. Officer boots and all that. Made of some kind of leather, plus this buckle here, you see that?”

The cook snored.

“Yes, it’s silver. So here we go. You sell that, you’re golden, or silver as it were. Ha.” Ben took off his left boot and placed it in the cook’s hands. “Fair is fair. Isn’t it?”

The cook continued to snore.

“Well, whatever, jerk,” Ben said. With his immediate problems solved Ben moved on to the next one, shelter. He could just wait in the middle of the town square and wave about until the severe-looking knight came and apprehended him, but she looked mean even for a guard, so Ben did not like his chances. Never mind sleeping in a cell. His authority problems notwithstanding, something about being at the mercy of a town of dimensional strangers gave him the shivers. Or perhaps it was the cold night air.

Now, if he could find the witch again, or even the tree, and get himself back into his old world. Well, not that things were much better over there. But it just gives you a warm feeling to know that the people wanting you harm have the same earth under their fingernails.

The witch had mentioned a test, but what that could be was a total crapshoot. As he kept on strolling, Ben decided that he wasn’t feeling all that shabby. Having immediate problems to solve was doing wonders for his mood. He knew that once he was safe and comfortable or had any time to properly think, his mind would feel like a nightmare of hurt and panic, but until then, he could snack on stolen cheese and some sort of cured meats. Life was good.