Guilde

Tosh took a deep breath to relax himself. “So, you are an unsanctioned Guildsman, using a rogue Gate? No wonder you would take us to the Crimson Planet for such a discount,” Tosh groaned. After a second, he nodded, “We should leave, Bors.”

“Why?” Bors asked. “What is wrong with it? And what does ‘too Tuesday’ mean?’”

Tosh sighed. “She can’t do normal missions. She does dangerous ones,” Tosh responded. “And she’s a Guildie. They always use odd words, Bors, or they act bizarre.”

“To survive, I have to do dangerous missions,” she said with a shrug. She looked up at the Gate. “Besides, this Gate likes me more than the other Guildies. She and I sync up well. And Tuesday is that day of the week that really sucks, you know? You only just started the work week, and hump day isn’t until tomorrow. The weekend is forever away. It’s all boring business, and, and it’s a draaag, you knowhatImean?” Her last few words came out in a rush. She moved around the room, taking up a knapsack and putting a book inside, then a packet of food wrapped in a silver foil. She then took it out, peeled it open, and munched on the dark brown cube of food. All the while, she roamed around the room, humming a tuneless little ditty to herself, picking around the room, searching for something.

Tosh and Bors stared at each other for a minute. Then at Tessa. We’ve made a terrible mistake, Tosh realized. He thought Bors had come to the same conclusion when Bors roared with laughter.

He looked at Tessa and laughed harder. “I like this one! By Von, you’re funny!” He wiped at his eyes. “We made a good bargain, Little Bird.”

Tosh let out a groan. His head was hurting. Surrounded by madmen, wonderful. I’m doomed more than before.

Tessa’s head snapped over to the door.

The door that Tosh stood in front of bowed inward with a shuddering series of bangs. Tosh jerked away while Bors was already stepping towards the door, pulling his short-hafted, notched axe from his belt. His jaw clenched when his free hand went to the dull, white-stone-pommeled longsword across his back, before his hand came away from the sword hilt. “No room,” Tosh heard Bors growl, more to himself than anyone else. He pushed himself in front of Tosh.

A loud voice bellowed from behind the door. “Guildsman Tessa DeLillo, you are in violation of—”

The rest lost in a howling rush of wind. Tosh turned his head to see Tessa standing on her tiptoes, her arms reaching upwards while her eyes rolled back to show only the whites of her eyes. Tosh screwed his head upwards to witness a liquid layer forming along the now-open center of the Gate. Rippling and stretching, drawing a layer of liquid down towards Tessa’s outstretched hand. She extended her other hand towards Tosh. He reached out, but she shifted her hand to point more towards the door. “Down!” She shouted at Tosh.

Bors shoved tosh to the ground. He was glad the barbarian did, when a violent boom a moment later reverberated in Tosh’s ears. He peeked out from behind his hands. The liquid had coalesced around Tessa’s pointed finger, then blasted from her again, striking the door. Tosh peeked over the beefy shoulder of Bors to see that whatever was on the other side of the door was obliterated, taken in the blast that had destroyed the door. A perfect, symmetrical hole, four feet across, had punched through the dilapidated door and bits of the walls. A bloody, echoing splat drifted into the room. Standing up, Tosh could see the other side of the door. Catching the sight of two forms in the remnants of the black uniform of Guildsmen. Both of them were cored by whatever had destroyed the door as they fell to the ground with a wet splat of blood and viscera.

A moment later, there was a squall of howling winds, screaming, and an intense cold pain stabbed into Tosh’s limbs. Blinking, Tosh realized they were no longer on the floor of the dilapidated flophouse of Renkashka. They were now sprawled on a lush bed of grass and loam. Bors was still atop of him. Tosh tried pushing the barbarian off. Bors leapt to his feet, his long blade clearing his scabbard while his dark green eyes sought a target to attack.

Where are we? Disoriented and woozy, Tosh tried to rise. He only lifted himself onto his hands and knees and began feeling even sicker. A moment later, Tosh felt bile rise to his throat and vomited up the last few days’ worth of meals. Finishing with a soft groan, he tried to push himself to his feet. Weakened by whatever caused the shift in his reality, he only rolled away from the puke because of a small hill he was on and rolled down the hill a little before being stopped by a rock.

Never thought I’d go through something like that. He’d experienced Gate travel before. Never so erratic or intense. Is this what she meant by dangerous? He tried to speak, only to let out another groan of pain. Bors dropped a skin of water to Tosh, although the barbarian’s eyes never looked away from his search to find something to attack. Tosh grabbed up the skin and started greedily suck at the water.

“What was that?” Bors shouted, turning to look everywhere at once.

“That was a Gate Transit,” Tessa said, sitting on the ground with her legs crossed in front of her just a few feet from them, petting Nix.