Ray had decided to take over a table at the Blue Oak. He had found some paper which

was more like cloth by the feel, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink. He needed to figure

out his next move. Part of that was taking notes on the information the battery had

stolen from the library.

Along the way, he had ordered a dinner meal from the tavern. The empty plates and

saucers held down some of his notes as he worked on others. He rubbed his eyes with

his normal hand as he sat back.

There had to be something there he could use. How did he track down the

mastermind? He could burn his marker after he had done that. He didn’t see anything

useful.

Where was Columbo when you needed him?

“What are you doing sitting at our table, scribe?,” demanded a loud voice.

Ray looked around. The last thing he wanted was a fight in a diner between some

dimwits while he was trying to think. Then he realized a group of misfits were staring

at him, and he was the scribe in question.

“Can we take them?,” thought Ray.

Affirmative. The tone of the battery remained flat, but he thought there was a hint of

bloodthirstiness there too.

“This is my table,” said Ray. “It has my name on it and everything. Maybe you should

look around for somewhere else to sit.”

The group took on various expressions of disbelief, except one boy to one side. He

looked bored. He sat down at the table opposite Ray, and held up a hand for service.

“We might be throwing this guy out of the Oak, Lightner,” said one of the others. He

wore leather armor in shades of red. A quiver of arrows rode on his hip, bow tucked

inside with them.

“No,” said Lightner. He looked around for any waitstaff and raised his hand. He

fumed that no one paid attention to him.

“Let me,” said Ray. He eyed the group as a whole, but no one had reached for a

sword. He supposed Lightner just sitting down precluded any fight.

Unless the slender boy usually fought with his feet like a savate master.

Ray put his thumb and index finger in his mouth and whistled a sharp piercing tone

that silenced the room. Everyone looked at the table. Some of them looked annoyed.

“Hey, Stella!,” shouted Ray. “Seven more dinners here, another jug of tea, and a slice

of cake. Put everything on the Peacock’s tab.”

“Coming right up, Ray,” said one of the waitresses. She looked old enough to be the

mother of all the rest. Maybe she was. They hadn’t talked about it when Ray had

walked in from his excursion to the library.

“Who’s the Peacock?,” asked the guy who had originally asked Ray to move. He

didn’t seem that bright, but wore a red set of armor with a metallic helmet carried on

his belt. He didn’t wear a sword. That seemed out of place to Ray, but he didn’t know

enough about the world to say what it meant one way, or the other.

Everyone pointed at the outfit’s commander in his red armor.

“Oh,” said the fighter. “I wouldn’t have said peacock. More like a tanager.”

“Thank you for the bird lessons, James,” said the peacock. He leveled his annoyed

look at his cohort. The other man simply smiled back.

Ray looked at this odd group and wondered how long they had been together.

Lightner sat across from him and just looked at him. Intelligence moved in the eyes,

but it seemed impartial and removed from things that didn’t benefit the boy.

“I think introductions are in order if we’re not going to be fighting it out,” said one

of the others. He wore white, seemed a bit older than the rest of the group, and one

of his eyes had been replaced by a ruby. “I’m Neffer. This is Lord Brian of

Mornington, his daughter, Pinkley, James of Glassome. Armstrong. And Lightner.”

Pinkley looked too young to be in with a group of fighters, but she wore the same red

as her father, with the same type bow and arrow set. Ray decided she must take more

after her mother since her face was more pointed and the eyes bluer than her father’s.

Armstrong had remained at the back of the group. He wore a ragged green cape over

some kind of brown gear. He had a face mask to help conceal his identity. The cape

concealed if he had any weapons.

“Raymond Gunn,” said Ray. He blinked at the papers spread out in front of him. He

wasn’t going to be able to do much with a group of party crashers in his way.

Chairs were added to the table for more seats as the group took places. Ray felt

hemmed in. How did he get rid of these goofballs so he could get back to work?

“What are you doing, scribe?,” asked James. He looked at the papers with disinterest.

“I’m trying to figure out where the next destructive extradimensional invasion is

going to take place,” said Ray. “I’m not having much luck. And I am not a scribe.”

“How did you lose your arm?,” asked Pinkley. She pointed at the metal appendage.

“I owed someone some money,” said Ray.

“They took your arm instead?,” said Pinkley. “We’ll get it back for you. Neffer can

put it back on for you.”

“No,” said Lightner.

“Why not?,” asked the girl. She ran her hand through her short hair.

“It would be impossible depending on how long ago the arm was severed,” said

Neffer. His eye ran along the papers, squinting at Ray’s notes. The ruby seemed to

focus on the same things like a real eye. “Any progress?”

“Not really,” said Ray.

“May I?,” asked Neffer. He held out his hands.

“Go ahead,” said Ray. He wondered how he got into this situation.

“What do you think, Neffer?,” asked Lord Brian.

“Some interesting facts have been put together,” said Neffer. “I don’t like that all of

these demon invasions happened at the same time of the year.”

“What do you mean?,” asked Ray.

“All of the demon wells opened at the same time,” said Neffer. “Or close enough that

it doesn’t matter. Matter of fact, we’re a few weeks away from that part of the year

right now.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said James. “But those wells are natural things, right? Put

a stopper on it, and we’re done.”

“No,” said Lightner.

“Who did you owe?,” asked Ray.

“No,” said Lightner. He smiled thinly.

“Keep your secret,” said Ray.

“I don’t understand,” said James.

“I do,” said Lord Brian. “The invasions are being caused, and aren’t natural at all. The

same time of year suggests a ritual that depends on something that happens only in

that part of the year.”

“But the sites were random according to this,” said Neffer. “There has to be a reason

they were picked if the ritual required a time for it.”

“Something could have caused the sites to be picked that was related to the time they

were picked,” said Lord Brian.

“Something that only happens every fifty years, at this time of year,” said Neffer.

“Yes,” said Lightner.

“How do we pick that out?,” asked Ray.

“I have no idea,” said Neffer. He smiled. “I know some people. I’ll ask around.”

“I have a two year time limit,” said Ray. “Nothing was said that it would take the

whole two years before the next one.”

“So we might be fighting another one soon,” said Brian. He frowned at his daughter.

“The loss of life will be tremendous if it happens in a city.”

“We should let the others know,” said James. “Get them ready.”

“I agree,” said Lord Brian. “We should let everyone know to get ready. This will be

bad no matter how much we plan for it.”

“Anybody around from the last one?,” asked Ray.

“Sam,” said Pinkley. “Uncle Sam.”

“Excuse me?,” said Ray.

“There’s an old man who used to adventure with a group,” said Lord Brian. “His

name is Samuel Broadiron. Most of the adventurers around call him Uncle Sam.”

“And he fought the last demon well fifty years ago,” said Neffer. “He might have

some answers to the problem.”

“And where does this Uncle Sam live?,” Ray asked.

“Up at the Grandview University,” said James.

“Of course he does,” said Ray. “I could have talked to him today if I had known.”

“Such is life,” said Neffer. He smiled slightly.

The wait staff appeared with their food. They set everything down while Ray grabbed

his papers and folded them up into his food wallet He stashed the pen and ink last.

Ray thought about Uncle Sam as the group talked about the papers. He noted that

Armstrong never joined in. He stood on the periphery, wrapped in his cape, masked

face seemingly scanning the room for trouble.

“I have a question,” said Ray. He looked at the weird group around him. “Why would

you believe me?”

“You’re not the first that has come through looking for the source of the demon well

problem,” said Neffer. “And my eye automatically tells when someone is lying.”

“Really,” said Ray. “I am Elmer J. Fudd. I am a millionaire. I own a yacht and a golf

club.”

“The only thing that you said that was true was the bit about being a millionaire,” said

Neffer. “The rest is false.”

“It’s a thing from a story,” said Ray.

“Oh, I see,” said Neffer. “You still haven’t said what your interest in all this is. You

don’t come across as a typical adventurer.”

“I owe,” said Ray. “And I have to repay. To cover my marker, I have to stop the next

invasion and the brain behind it. Once I’m done, I’m going home to my wife and kids

with a clear conscience.”

“Do you really think you will be able to do that?,” asked James.

“I’m really going to give it the old college try,” said Ray. “It was a pleasure meeting

you all. I still have work to do if I want to save the world.”

“Yes,” said Lightner.

Ray nodded as he stood up, took one last sip of the local beer, and headed for the

door. Maybe he could talk to Uncle Sam tonight.

He didn’t like that his mission was suddenly looking more high risk than he had

thought it would be at first.