Things Never Go Smooth

By Brian Wakeling

Gods exist. Some of them are family. And all families have squabbles. Some might say there's profit to be made from them - others say that now's a good time to hide in the cellar.

A chance sight of a Princess on the streets of Doronatha causes big problems for Cullan - not only do two Gods have their eye on the Princess, the Princess has her eye on Cullan. And to make matters worse, the only ones willing to rescue him aren't going to get paid for it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781326234553

Book preview

Things Never Go Smooth

Things Never Go Smooth

Book IV of the

Have Sword & Sorcery: Will Travel™

series

A NaNoWriMo Novel

by Brian Wakeling

About the Author

Brian Wakeling was born in the Midlands, bred in the Home Counties, raised in Yorkshire, and went to university in Edinburgh, where he studied fencing and drinking at QMUC – from where he was finally kicked out for the second time in May 2000. He returned to Yorkshire nine months later where he tried to get a life but couldn't afford one. In summer 2005, following his ambition to get a job in a theatre, he moved down to London – and almost completely failed in this ambition. He has been writing in one form or another for most of his life. He was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome in March 2009.

Other Books

Have Sword & Sorcery: Will Travel™

Please Kill the Neighbours

Finish the Job So We Don’t Have To

All’s Fair in Love and Politics

Things Never Go Smooth

Cult Following

Customs & Duty

The Dragon, Shrouded

The Dragon, Rising

The Dragon

Copyright

Copyright © Brian Wakeling 2009

I, Brian Wakeling, hereby assert and give notice of my right under sections 77 and 78 of the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. Any unauthorised copying, lending, distributing or hiring is prohibited, whether by electronic or by any other means.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The GURPS rules and system used as part of the creation of this work are © Steve Jackson Games. GURPS is a Registered Trademark of Steve Jackson Games.

Cover art by and © Gary Stainsby 2010

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First Edition 2010

Second Edition 2015

Third Edition 2016

ISBN 978-1-326-23455-3

This forms part of The Published Works as defined in the SOAUL

(http://www.sabremeister.me.uk/soaul.html)

Have Sword & Sorcery: Will Travel is a Trademark of Brian Wakeling

http://www.sabremeister.me.uk/Hsaswt.html

Map

Dedication

For Méabh, Beth,

and the others who helped me cope

PROLOGUE

It was raining, which didn’t help. The road looked particularly dreary ahead, and it had been a while since he’d stretched his legs anyway, so Cullan hauled back on the reins, bringing the horses to a halt. He turned and lifted the canvas flap at the front of the wagon’s cover. Back in a tick. Need a slash, he said, and hopped off the front platform. The rain hit him with all the unpleasant sogginess that persistent rain does, and he hurried over to the side of the road, under the shelter of the nearby trees. What lovely June weather, he muttered to himself as he unbuttoned. He had barely finished relieving himself when a scream pierced the air.

He sprinted towards the wagon. All his weapons were within easy reach – from where he’d been sitting moments ago. Almost panicked, he leapt up onto the platform and thrust his head through the flap, while reaching for one of his blades. What’s wrong? he demanded, what was that scream?

Morgan was sitting up on her pallet, white as a sheet and shivering, while her lover Rassillon, an Elf, hugged her. Alys was sitting up, clutching to her the bundle of swaddling that contained her and Cullan’s son, one day over three months old, trying to shush him. The child’s bawling quieted, and Cullan could hear Rassillon muttering reassuringly to Morgan. Cullan clambered inside. What happened? he asked.

Alys glared at him. Cullan – do yourself up.

Whu-? Cullan looked down and realised that his breeches were still undone, and were migrating downwards. He turned around and started buttoning up. What was that scream? Morgan are you alright?

She was asleep, Alys told him. Rassillon was studying, I was putting Walter to sleep. Then she just screamed, and just, jerked upright.

What happened? asked Cullan, turning back round. Why did you scream, Morgan?

The young woman shook her head and bit her lip. She gently pushed Rassillon away, and took a deep breath. I had- she began, and stopped. Her voice, normally faint and light, like a mouse’s squeak, was now deep and gravelly.

What’s up with your voice? asked Alys, leaning forwards.

Morgan shook her head, biting her lip again. It took her several long moments to collect herself again, then she spoke in her new disturbing voice. I had a vision. A nightmare. Like back at Darash, before I met you. But, it wasn’t the same. It was ... there were men, in robes like priests, but completely bald. They seemed to be ... looking ... at me. They were ... chanting, I think. I couldn’t hear what. Then one of them, or it might have been all of them, said, ‘it’s her, she’s the one, at last.’ And, and, there was a, a crack of thunder or something, and I, woke up.

The others just looked blank for a second, then Cullan shook his head. This isn’t my field. You got any ideas, Rass?

I am not familiar with divination, or scrying, he explained, but, the change in voice may certainly be the result of a poorly-executed spell, or merely the interruption caused by the sudden waking. I do not know any more.

But, you’ve studied thaumaturgy, right? The theory of magic, isn’t it? Alys asked.

You are correct, Rassillon replied. However, I am no expert – my specialism is battle magic, not theory. I would require access to another mage’s library, one who is accomplished in thaumaturgy, to even begin a diagnosis.

One to write to your boss about? asked Cullan.

Both the mages shrugged. I doubt he’ll help, Morgan croaked.

Mordlin does not readily assist those not under his direct protection, Rassillon explained, but it would be a mistake not to seek his aid.

You need a town for that?

Neither of us can communicate magically, Rassillon confirmed. We would either have to write to him, or hire a local wizard to use Mindspeech.

Right. Well, we should be in a fairly big town tomorrow, Cullan told them, you can go and do magic-stuff there, can’t you?

Yes.

Right. Cullan sighed. I suppose that means you’re not going to be babysitting tomorrow then?

Cullan! Alys glared at him again.

What, I don’t get an hour alone with you on my birthday?

We’ll work something out, Morgan rumbled.

Thanks.

Thank you.

Cullan sighed again. Right. Well, I’d better get us moving again, then, hadn’t I? He turned to go.

I’ll join you when Walter’s asleep, Alys promised.

Right, Cullan muttered. Right.

Things Never Go Smooth

The sentries stood aside, and the wagon clopped through the gates into the city of Filamo as sunset approached. It’s nice to be back here again, Cullan commented. The others were all on the driver’s platform with him, and were making the most of it. Morgan and Rassillon hadn’t been there before, so they were sightseeing, but the last time Cullan and Alys had passed through, they had been with Kenyon – a subject they did not care to discuss much.

Yes, Alys responded, it’ll be good to see my family again.

How long’s it been since you last saw your father?

About two-and-a-half years, she answered. He’ll probably be worried sick about me.

What, that tough old bastard?

I might have kicked more arse than half the town garrison put together, but to him I’m still Daddy’s Little Girl.

How will he react to you turning up on his doorstep with a baby? rumbled Morgan. It had been three weeks since her vision, and nothing she or Rassillon had tried had helped her get her normal voice back.

No idea – I’m sure it’ll be fun finding out, though.

Is that the sort of fun where bystanders have to run away screaming? asked Rassillon.

Could be, Alys replied. You don’t get to be one of the most successful mercenaries of the last forty years without occasionally blowing your top.

I shall be prepared to cast Shield at a moment’s notice, then.

Oh, relax, Rass! Cullan told him. "He’s not going to take a swing at us. Well, okay, he might take a swing at me, but he knows I can probably dodge it – but he won’t swing at Alys or Walter."

I do not know how many times I have asked you not to call me ‘Rass’, but it appears I must do so again.

Damn, thought I’d got away with it there. Lighten up! We’re in one of the most fun cities in Doronatha, start enjoying yourself! He turned the cart onto a different street. There’s plenty to see, have a good look and enjoy yourself!

They observed the new street for a few seconds.

There appears to be a significant concentration of prostitutes and brothels on this road, observed Rassillon.

Okay, so bad timing, there, Cullan admitted. But, hey, it’s still a good view.

Ahem!

Excuse me.

Cullan shrugged. What? I’m a bloke, I look. And, just now, wherever I look, I’ve got a good view!

And what about Alys and I?

Nothing to stop you two looking as well.

Would you prefer to be gutted, or burned? asked Rassillon.

Morgan’s got no business burning me, she’s your lass, not mine. If anyone gets burned, it’ll be you, after you check out those Elven girls over there.

Rassillon spared them a brief glance. They are not Elves, he said.

The others all looked as the wagon went past. Course they are, Cullan asserted. Tall, thin, pointy ears, beautiful – how are they not Elves?

Elven women do not have breasts except when pregnant or nursing, Rassillon explained.

Cullan couldn’t resist craning his neck to re-examine the subjects of the discussion. Alys gave him a gentle slap. Sorry. Well, what are they then, if they’re not Elves?

Half-Elves, most likely. Or it could be an Illusion of some sort, but I doubt a mage with that sort of talent would waste their time running a brothel.

Is it an Illusion? How could you tell? I mean, some people will do anything to make a bit of money.

Give me a minute, Morgan croaked, and went into the back of the wagon. She came back a few moments later. There’s no magic being used, they’re real Half-Elves. And everyone knows it now.

Why, what did you do?

I cast an Illusion onto the front of that brothel, telling everyone they’re really Half-Elves.

Well, that’s going to make someone’s day, Cullan muttered. Pimps can get very angry about that sort of thing, we won’t be wanting to hang about.

Just as well we’re heading south in a couple of days anyway, then, isn’t it?

Hell, yeah, I could do with some sunshine.

They drove on, with Cullan taking the most direct route across the city to where Alys’ father, Landry, lived in his large harbour-side house. It was stuccoed and pillared and the front door was nine feet off the ground, reached by twin sets of stone steps either side of a balcony. However, the front door was only used for formal occasions, so they drove under the arch at the side into the stable yard, where a couple of grooms hanging about immediately stood up to take notice.

Here you go, mate, Cullan called, tossing the reins at one. Park it somewhere we can find it, we’ll come back to unload in a bit. He jumped down and helped Alys disembark.

Does the master know you’re coming? asked a groom.

Since when do I need an appointment to see my father? Alys replied. I know he’s not averse to any of his old mercenary pals turning up at all and sundry hours, so why should it be different for me?

Just as you say, ma’am.

Yeah, I do say. She beckoned the others with her head. Come on.

She led the way to the back entrance (different to the kitchen entrance, which was only used by servants), and handed the baby to Cullan so she could pull the bell-pull. Cullan stood there and made silly noises at an oblivious Walter as they waited, while Morgan leaned against Rassillon with their arms around each other. The door opened.

Miss Alys! the footman greeted. It’s been a long time. Come in, and your friends. The master is in the dining room.

Great! Just in time for food, Alys said, pushing past. You’ll like the food here, she told the others, no such thing as a small portion here.

She led the way along the corridors and up the stairs, through a pair of heavy wooden doors, into a large room dominated by a vast table surrounded by high-backed chairs.

Alys! Good to see you again!

Margrite! I didn’t realise you were staying here?

That’s not exactly the case, darling, Landry said, standing up to come and greet her. They hugged, and Alys asked what he meant. Margrite stood next to him and raised her left hand to show off the ring. We were married five months ago.

3

Later that night, in their bedroom, with Walter (finally) snoozing in the cot that had hastily been bought from a friendly carpenter, Alys and Cullan sat up talking.

Well, you must have known that he wasn’t exactly celibate.

"Of course! And I know he’s rich and respected and so on, but – I mean, come on, she's my age!"

Well, what age should she be?

I don’t know! I mean, it’s great he’s re-married and all that, but I never thought the person he married would be someone I used to play with!

You played with other girls? I’d never’ve guessed.

Ha ha, Alys said, witheringly. We were neighbours. We moved in next door to them after my mother died, apparently.

Apparently?

I was about two years old.

Oh, yes, so you were.

Anyway, we used to play together – skittles, hoops, that sort of thing. Climbing trees, when we thought we wouldn’t get caught.

Did you?

Sometimes. Blimey, Cullan, I used to steal her spinning top and use it to knock Billy Wheelwright on the head.

Billy Wheelwright?

The son of my other neighbour, a couple of years older than me. Used to be a right pain. He had baggy breeks, a dirty shirt, was always pulling our hair, making us eat dirt, stealing our push-carts after dark.

And you let him?

Well, yeah. My dad didn’t start teaching me anything until I was about seven. Then after the first month, I challenged him.

What happened?

Alys laughed at the memory. I broke his arm, and left him head-down in an empty apple barrel.

Cullan laughed as well. And what did your friend Margrite say about that?

"She thought it was funny. But, by then, we were hardly seeing each other. She was ’prenticed to a cook, and I was being trained by my father. The last time we spent more than a few minutes together was on my twelfth birthday. And the last time I saw her, was when I went to tell her that I’d be leaving town – that would have been six years ago now. Over six years."

And?

And what?

And what did she think?

She thought I was ‘running away with a boy’. No, I was ... It was ...

Kenyon? That merchant caravan?

That’s it. Yes, there was a boy, but, no, I wasn’t specifically ‘with’ him. And I wasn’t running away, I asked my father for permission to join the caravan, and he said yes.

So, what’re you complaining about?

I’m not! Not – as such, anyway. It’s just ... y’know. I thought if he did remarry, he’d marry someone more his own age, not half it!

Well, as long as he’s happy, right? And, presumably, she’s happy, otherwise she’d never have said yes.

I suppose so. Ugh! Let’s get some sleep. We can talk about it in the morning.

Good idea.

4

The next day, they spent quite a bit of time wandering around the city, seeing the sights, doing a bit of shopping, catching up with a few people. They’d discussed with Landry the night before about leaving Walter in his care while they continued to work – they had been well-paid recently, but it wasn’t enough to maintain a house in Dentrassi, the capital of Galorndan, while the highest-earning member of their group stayed at home to look after a child. Cullan stated outright that looking after babies was woman’s work, and if he tried he’d be crap at it anyway, and Morgan was terrified of dropping him or something. Rassillon was still a student of the Sage Mordlin at Rast, and could only spare a few months a year. Alys herself was too eager to work, and they couldn’t ask their housekeeper Mrs Terney, as she was ‘not prepared to run around after a baby while keeping two houses.’ And so, they made arrangements for Mrs Terney to draw