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To Save The World?
Copyright © 2004 Allison Corbett
Candles glowed on either
side of the desk as Kelthan was ushered into the office. A short, elderly
man, rather portly, sat in the leather hair on the other side of the huge
desk dominating the room. The apprentice closed the door softly behind
Kelthan, leaving him alone with the man, who continued to look through
the papers on his desk without looking up. At last Kelthan cleared his
throat softly.
"Excuse me, sir?
Are you Guildmaster Douglas?"
"I am he,
aye," the man said, continuing to shuffle through his papers.
When the man showed no
sign of stopping, Kelthan tried again. "Would you mind if I just
put my shield down over here?" he asked.
"Oh, just put it
down and come over here," the man said irritably.
Kelthan did as he said
with alacrity and sat in the hard chair across the desk from the man,
his mail clinking as he did so. The man finally leaned back in the chair
and fixed Kelthan with very sharp, tiny blue eyes. The candlelight glinted
off of his short white beard and the ornate pen the Guildmaster held in
his right hand. With his left hand he continued to shuffle through the
papers on the desk which, Kelthan could now see, were the materials he
had submitted before this meeting. Kelthan could feel the sweat beginning
to drip down the back of his slightly dirty white shirt.
At length the man appeared
to finish rifling through the papers—or perhaps he was only waiting for
Kelthan to become even more nervous than he already was—and looked up.
"So, you want to join the Ashbury Artists' Guild."
"Yes...um, sir,"
Kelthan said, clamping his hands around his sword hilt to keep from fidgeting.
"Name?" the
man said in bored tones.
"Kelthan,"
he said quickly. "Sir Kelthan Nounverber. At your service. Sir."
"And these are your
references?" Guildmaster Douglas said, gesturing at the pile of papers
before him.
Kelthan nodded eagerly.
"Several work references, personal references...and these—these are
samples of my work, sir. Drawings, illuminated manuscripts, portraits...
it's all there." The man flipped through the sheets again with
apparent disinterest. Kelthan's heart sank. Douglas picked up four or
five neatly scribed sheets—Kelthan's references.
"Tell me, Sir Nounverber,"
he said. "None of these references are from regular employers, are
they?"
"No, sir,"
Kelthan said in a small voice.
"They all seem to
be from people you've helped on one occasion or another," the man
continued. "This man says you nobly saved his farm from trolls; this
woman says you retrieved a fragment of the Star Crystal necessary for
the ritual to save her lover. This one congratulates you for single-handedly
destroying the Death Knight ravaging the town. In this one the Duke calls
you the bravest warrior in Ashbury. And here's one from Duchess Mara.
Tell me, young man, what did you do for her?"
Kelthan said hesitantly,
"I once guarded her for an entire day while the Ducal Household was
out killing monsters. She said she felt very safe and I was a very honorable
man."
The man leaned back in
his chair, lit a cigar, puffed a large ring of smoke towards the ceiling.
"What is your profession, Sir Nounverber?"
"I—I'm an
adventurer, sir," Kelthan said in a low voice.
"I see."
Douglas blew out an especially large ring of smoke and a silence fell.
"What are your skills,
young man?" he asked finally.
Kelthan twisted his hands
in nervousness. "I can draw, I can read and write—I'm a member of
the Scribes' Guild—and I can paint almost anything. I can use many weapons
with great skill and I'm good enough that I can inflict great wounds in
a single blow. I have a few celestial spells, and I can fix armor in a
pinch. I can write good love poems and play the harp. I protect the weak,
am endlessly chivalrous to women, and dedicate my life to defending those
unable to defend themselves. And," Kelthan said with pride, "I
can recite the Code of Chivalry by number."
"Hmm," the man said, looking at the drawings on the desk. "Why
do you want to join the Artists' Guild, Kelthan?"
Kelthan leaned forward
eagerly. "I love to draw, sir," he said. "I spend part
of every day drawing or painting—people all over Ashbury have my portraits.
I'd do anything to live and work with other artists." He paused.
"And the truth is, sir—I'm tired of adventuring. I'm burned out.
I want to settle down. I'd like a wife and kids and a steady income. I
feel like I'm stuck in the same old rut, day after day—kill a few monsters,
take their Stuff, get it Identified, build a magic weapon here and there,
wage eternal war against the forces of Chaos and Evil, go on Quests. It's
not a very stable lifestyle, you know?"
"Hmmm," the
old man said, taking—or pretending to take—notes on a pad in front of
him. There was another long silence as he wrote. The Guildmaster
sat up finally, leaned forward in his chair, and laced his fingers together
on the desk in front of him. Kelthan's heart began to thud painfully in
his chest. There was a pause while the old man stared at Kelthan and Kelthan
tried to look back.
"So tell me, Kelthan,"
the man said, fixing him with those bright, sharp eyes. "Why did
you miss our meeting yesterday?"
The sweat began to pour
down Kelthan's back and forehead in earnest, and he could feel himself
shaking. "Um...sir...I was...I was..."
"What's that,
young man?" the man said irritably. "I can't hear you."
Kelthan tried to raise
his voice and failed. Finally, he stammered out, "I...I—I was...I
was saving the world, sir."
* * * *
Kelthan stomped out of the Guild Hall and threw his pack and portfolio
on the grass outside. He tossed his magic sword, Gloomslayer, onto the
grass beside it and last of all yanked off his shield and dropped that
to the ground as well. Finally he threw himself onto the grass, flopped
over on his back and put his arm over his eyes.
Above him he could hear
Ashbury's usual chattering stream of passerby. Some tried to speak to
him.
"Sir Kelthan, would
you like to help us kill some trolls?"
"No," said
Kelthan, leaving his eyes closed.
"Sir Kelthan, will
you help us destroy a Brood nest?"
"Find someone else,"
he said.
"Sir Kelthan, there's
an evil creature out on the field that's only affected by magic. Will
you come help us kill it?"
Kelthan opened his eyes.
Before him stood the tall, foreboding figure of Boris, the town's second-best
fighter, holding his magic sword.
"You do it,"
said Kelthan. "You have a magic sword."
"But Gloomslayer--"
"I said, you do
it," said Kelthan, and closed his eyes again.
"Sir Kelthan, Sir
Justice is looking for you."
"Tell him I'm communing
with the stars and I'll talk to him later."
"Sir Kelthan, will
you help us roam the forest looking for injustice and evil?"
"Injustice and evil
can wait until I'm damn well ready for them," said Kelthan.
"Sir Kelthan, there's
a Greater Beauty Elemental on the field looking for you. She says she
wants to marry you."
"Can it wait?"
"No. She wants to
get married right now."
"Her loss,"
said Kelthan, and replaced the arm over his eyes.
"Sir—Sir Kelthan?"
said a small voice.
He cracked an eye open.
Above him cowered Daric , a new arrival to town. He had helped Daric several
times before since not only was Daric a newcomer, he was not skilled enough
to protect himself from the more powerful monsters. Kelthan found Daric
painfully irritating, but he had always felt it his duty to help him.
"What?" Kelthan
demanded flatly.
"Well...well..."
Daric began several times before managing to finish his sentence, "Well,
there's this evil necromancer, see, and he's got someone's daughter captive,
and they need a group to go and get her back."
"So what?"
Kelthan said.
"So...so...well,
we have five, and we need six. I was wondering...I was wondering...if
you'd go."
Kelthan mentally counted
to ten in Blackstoner—not his native language—and wondered how many of
the undead he'd have to kill by himself THIS time. The other four
lurking behind Daric were also newcomers to Ashbury and no more powerful
than he was; the poor man wouldn't have chosen them to help his daughter
if the necromancer were terribly dangerous.
"No," he said.
He opened his eyes again at the sudden silence.
"Well, what's the
matter?" he said.
"You—you say no.
It is evil necromancer!" said a gypsy woman behind Daric.
"So what? I'm sure
you can handle it. Necromancers are a copper a dozen in Ashbury."
"But—but...you're
the greatest fighter in Ashbury!" said Daric. "Everyone says
so! We...we—we need your help!"
"No, you don't,"
said Kelthan, sighing. "You just THINK you do."
"Aren't you
supposed to make war against evil without cessation?" demanded the
woman next to the gypsy, a dark biata.
"Number four,"
he said absently. "Yes. But I don't have to do it singlehanded."
He could feel them all
staring at him, so he sighed again and said, "Look. I have had a
VERY BAD DAY. Couldn't you just find someone else and leave me alone,
just this once?" Daric looked at him sadly and began to shuffle away,
the others with him. One of the men in the group said loudly, "A
fine day for the forces of Good when the greatest hero in Ashbury won't
help." Kelthan resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at them
and closed his eyes again. As they moved they were still arguing over
who to ask.
"Ducal Household?"
"Good luck finding them
all."
"Ash Forest?"
"They're out hunting
Aerodeer."
"Blythedale?"
"Busy redesigning
their outfits."
"The Harvest
Moon?"
"On trial again."
"Well, what about
Trellheim?"
"No, ever since
Justice stepped down and Baroness Kit took over Trellheim has calmed down
a lot—they must have their hands full with all those babies."
"Kelthan, will
you help us slay the Giant Wyrm of Grendor?"
Recognizing the
voice, Kelthan looked up. Starya a'Fayeron was standing over him, shading
her eyes with her hand.
"Do I have to get
up to do it?" asked Kelthan.
"I'm afraid so."
"Find a different
hero."
Starya sat herself down
on the grass beside him and removed the hand from her eyes. A celestial
caster, Starya had been his friend from the moment she walked into town.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
he asked.
"You don't get to
be the greatest fighter in Ashbury by sitting on the grass outside the
Artists' Guild all day," she pointed out with a half-smile.
"They didn't want
me," he said, gesturing at the Guildhall. "I missed my interview
yesterday because of the Fey invasion. I told them I'd been marked by
the BrownieMaster and only I could save the town...but they didn't understand."
He sighed. "Guildmaster Douglas told me that they didn't want any
irresponsible adventuring types in the Guild, and he didn't care how great
a warrior I was, saving the world still didn't mean I could miss Guild
meetings." He sighed.
"I'm sorry,"
said Starya. "But don't you think swinging your sword against the
forces of Chaos will make you feel better?"
"NO," said
Kelthan emphatically. "The only thing that will make me feel better
is a good long nap and maybe a long journey away from Ashbury."
Starya sighed and rested
her chin on her knees in silence.
"Okay, fine,"
Kelthan said after a moment. "What is it this time?"
"The town has been
invaded by the Giant Wyrm of Grendor. You know those pockets of chaos
energy floating around town? Apparently one hit a dragonfly and turned
it into a giant intelligent monster with Dragon Mage powers. He's in human
form right now, and he's come to Ashbury to find a mate. First he insisted
on talking to the Duchess to negotiate, but when he found out how few
women there are in Ashbury he went berserk and attacked the town. We've
tried everything we can think of, but we think that only large amounts
of damage with a magic weapon will do the trick."
Kelthan closed his eyes
and asked the stars for peace. "Have you tried Dame Sonya's wardrobe?"
he asked at last.
Starya brightened.
"I wish I'd thought of that! That's a good idea!" She jumped
up and, summoning aura to her hand, ran back off towards the center of
town, calling over her shoulder, "If that doesn't work, will you
come?"
Kelthan, remembering
the Code of Chivalry, did not answer.
Kelthan was still lying
there several hours later—having pointedly ignored all sounds of combat
and requests for help—when Starya came back to find him. "Kelthan?"
she called softly.
"I'm awake,"
he answered, opening his eyes. She sat down again, moving her skirts aside.
"What happened to the Giant Wyrm of Grendor?"
She laughed. "It
worked like a Charm spell," she said. "First we had Dame Sonya
bring out her clothing, and while he was still dazzled we tried talking
to him."
"What happened?"
"Well, it all worked
out. Lord Magistrate Faustus came forward to parlay, and the Giant Wyrm
offered 200 gold to marry his cousin Gwynne. They got married as soon
as they could find an Imprison for her. They're going to move back to
Blackstone and raise a family. He's determined to use his magic to help
out in the Neumacht Brewery. Once again, the forces of Order prevail."
Kelthan awoke late that night to the sound of shouting. He'd gone to bed
early that night despite the numerous warnings he'd received that the
forces of Evil were never far distant on a Saturday night. As he opened
his eyes he realized it was still dark out.
The shouting was growing
louder. He recognized the voice of the Duke above the others. "Ashbury!
We need the whole town here right away! Form a line! Ashbury!" Above
the shouts was the occasional clash of fighting. Then, in addition
to these sounds, he could hear the ringing of maniacal laughter.
Suddenly, there was a
pounding on the door. As Kelthan sat up he realized he was the only one
in the room; everyone else must still be up. He estimated it was about
four in the morning. "Kelthan! Sir Kelthan! Get up!"
"I'm up!" he
shouted, climbing out of bed and moving groggily to the doorway. Outside
the doorway stood Boris and some others, several fighters and a few casters.
Starya was with them. "Hold on," he said, fitting the Ward Key
into the lock.
All ten of them poured
in and filled the seats around the table. Kelthan himself clumped back
to his bed and drew the covers around him. It was freezing out.
"Yeah, what
is it?" he said.
"There's a liche
outside," said Boris. "He's put up a Circle of Power and is
inside there laughing now. He says Ashbury is the center of a Chaos Node
and he's found a ritual which will allow him to open a Rift any time now
and pour his evil minions and more pockets of Chaos over the town. It's
only a matter of time. We're calling the whole town together; we're expecting
waves of undead and other creatures, and we may have to fight the liche
too. We need your help."
"I'm going back
to bed," said Kelthan.
"What?!" they
gasped together.
"I said I'm going
back to bed."
"But you can't go
back to bed!" someone protested. "Chaos will take over!"
"Let me get this
straight," Kelthan said, fixing them all with a firm glare.
"You want me to leave my warm bed and go outside where it's below
freezing, so I can stand outside that liche's Circle of Power until he
feels like taking it down, when my glowing sword will make such a pretty
target I will promptly soak up half the town's remaining Life Spells before
I can do any damage?"
"But isn't that what you always
do?" someone said.
"Not tonight,"
said Kelthan.
"But we have
to save Tyrra! If we don't close the Rift, the monsters will pour out
of Ashbury and eventually take over Evendarr!" cried someone else.
"Someone will fix
it," said Kelthan. "They always do."
"It's up to us to
save the world," said one of the young casters.
"It's up to YOU,
Kelthan!" cried someone else. "Ever since Lord Hanson got swallowed by
that animated ritual component last year there's no one else who can supply
the town with magic weapons. Gloomslayer is one of the last ones left.
You have to help us save the world, Kelthan!"
"I saved the world
yesterday!" shouted Kelthan. "And the weekend before that, and
the weekend before that! I've been an adventurer for two years now, and
I've been asked to save the world every week of those years so far! First
it was Avar Lychus, and then Mourna, and then Baracus Kul, and after that
Klaus Von Schreck and the Chaos Energy, then Panselore, then the Fey,
and today the damn Giant Wyrm of Grendor! It's someone else's turn to
save the world, by the stars! It's my day off!"
"You're a knight,
Sir Kelthan," someone said. "What about making war against evil
without cessation?"
"Four,"
said Kelthan. "Why does everyone always quote that one at me, dammit?
Don't I get a holiday? I'm burned out! The Code of Chivalry doesn't say
anything about sleep deprivation! Let the liche take over! Maybe he'll
let me sleep!"
"Do you mean that,
Sir Kelthan?" someone asked into the sudden general silence.
"He's consorting
with undead," someone else muttered. "Call the Duke."
"Haven't I
spent the last two years slaying liches, killing monsters, ridding the
town of nasties, making war against evil without cessation and not recoiling
before mine enemies?" Kelthan cried. "Haven't I been Deathed
three hundred times and Resurrected twice? I've saved the world a hundred
times. Let someone else do it this time!"
"I don't think you're
scrupulously performing your noble duties," said Boris, who wanted
to be the best fighter in Ashbury, darkly. "If you don't come, I'm
going to report you to the Paladins. Any real noble would be out there
fighting that liche to the final death if necessary."
There were general nods
of agreement. "Fine," said Kelthan. "Just send them
to me in the morning. I want to sleep."
He let the Ward down,
they left, the shouting outside continued, and Kelthan, the greatest fighter
in Ashbury, went back to bed.
In a tavern somewhere in Volta, Kelthan took a long draught of his mug
of ale and settled back in his chair.
"What happened then?"
his companion asked.
"Well, as you know
the Ashban forces defeated the liche's armies...not surprisingly, since
we were the forces of Good. The Paladins came the next morning; Lord Magistrate
Faustus came along just to make sure everything was legal," Kelthan
said. "They examined me for most of that day and locked me in the
Ward at night—which was fine, since the liche came back that night and
since I couldn't get out someone else had to deal with it. The next day,
they examined me some more. Finally the Lord Magistrate regretfully advised
that they not execute me and while he went to apologize to the Tree the
Paladins gave their verdict. They said that I had certainly not neglected
my noble duties since the town was capable of defeating the liche and
the rest of the town was present to deal with it. They got the Healers'
Guild to diagnose me certifiably burned out and gave me three months free
vacation anywhere in Evendarr I wanted. They also gave me an award for
my noble bearing in the face of near-insurmountable odds and assigned
Boris two months of Mages' Guild duty, where he is keeping Sorceress Shalizar's
boots very clean," said Kelthan. "So I left right away. I've
been traveling and doing landscape paintings, illuminating the occasional
manuscript to make money. Killing monsters when I feel like it."
"And?" asked
his companion.
"And best of all,
there's a place in the Artists' Guild waiting for me when I get back.
The nobles have promised to ask me to save the world only when they need
me. I get two days off a week and the Artists' Guild has promised to be
understanding about my adventuring. And then I lived happily ever after."
"Not quite yet,"
said his companion. "Not until after the wedding."
"True," agreed
Kelthan. "Have one more drink before we go to the Healer's Guild."
"Of course," said Starya, raising her flagon. "A toast:
to us."
"To us," Kelthan
agreed, raising his own flagon. "And to vacation."
THE END