Continued from part 2…
Varn! Look above you!
Varn’s heart skipped a beat as the mongrel man-thing let out a shrill, throaty keen, and he suddenly became quite aware of how unfortunate his situation was. The entwined knot of sleeping mutant bodies on the other side of the shelf began to rouse themselves and yip in curiosity. Varn estimated he had perhaps 30 seconds before the newly awakened mutants realized that breakfast was in their midst, and it was making off with one of their treasures. Varn stuffed the NX-769 6 Way Ultra Performance Car Speakers into his satchel and braced himself as the sentry mutant leapt from its top-shelf watchtower. Varn barely had enough time to bring his curved metal club up to defend himself as the beast crashed bodily into him, shoving him against the shelves behind him. His helmed head slammed against a beam as the supports for the shelf creaked with the impact, leaning back several inches before righting themselves. As Varn jammed the club into the mutant’s gnashing mouth and gripped one of its warty claws with his free hand, an idea came to him. Using the shelf behind him for leverage, he let go of the mutant’s wrist, grabbed the other end of the club, and flung himself forward as hard as he could.
Letting go of the claw was a dangerous decision, and it earned him several nasty gouges as the monster flailed at him with feral intensity. Once the pitiful wretch was slammed into the shelf, though, it ceased its onslaught for a stunned moment. The shelf separating Varn and his combatant from the now riled and whooping mutant clan gave a mighty groan and began to tumble backwards, popping up mooring bolts and snapping aged girders. Once that first end of the shelves started tumbling, the rest followed suit with increasing speed, resulting in a cacophonous meeting of metal shelves and unprepared mutant flesh.
Most of the cannibalistic devils were crushed, though some were merely pinned. Varn took the opportunity to lay several vicious hammer blows to the nearby mutant’s skull before it could stand back up, scattering nearly a dozen needle-like fangs around the dusty floor. Without looking back Varn sprinted for the door, grabbing another small box from a countertop near the front. He didn’t know what it contained, but he figured that if he couldn’t use it, he could perhaps trade with it back in town. This trek had been treacherous enough that he felt deserved a little more compensation, even if it meant stealing more ancient artifacts from the Sacred Tomb of the Brothers Pep. With a final burst of effort, Varn threw his shoulder into the entry door, splintering the dry-rotten boards and bursting out into the welcoming sunlight.
Feeling the sun-baked sand under his body, Varn blindly scrambled another thirty paces and vaulted behind one of the rusted metal shells that populated the fenced in ground before the Temple of the Pep Boys and waited for his eyes to adjust to the glaring light of day. The parcel he grabbed on the way out joined the spee kurrz in his satchel, and after catching his breath, Varn stood up and made sure he wasn’t followed. He could see movement in the doorway, and a few angry cries, but the wounded mutants didn’t seem to fancy their chances when not fighting on their own terms. Even though well-stocked temples of artifice were uncommon and deserving of respect, Varn removed his helmet and smiled to himself as he heard more shelves toppling in a domino effect. He really did hate mutants.
*****
Back in the town, all the folk cheered the bloodied hero’s return. A small girl ran up to him with a waterskin, which he thanked her for and drank from thirstily. He entered Fidik’s clocktower and upended his satchel on the sage’s workbench.
“Fidik!” he bellowed in exhaustion before slumping into a hammock chair. “Fidik! I have your artifact! Yours, and one of my own.” The wild eyed wise man rapidly took each step down his wrought iron spiral staircase and ran over to study the contents of the boxes.
“Marvelous, Varn! Simply marvelous! You truly are as good as they say! Oh, I know just the thing to do with your artifact, too. You’ll love it.”
“I’m sure I will, wizard, but I still have a care to be paid for my trouble. These claw wounds didn’t come from horseflies, you know.”
“Yes, yes, of course, the mayor should have your payment. See him when you’re ready to leave. Ah, Varn, you really have come through for us. These spee kurrz are even better than the NX-770 3 Way High Performance Speakers the town has relied upon for years. With these, I can keep the mutants farther away from the walls than ever before.”
“That is good news, Fidik. By the way, the helm you gave me worked out very well. Had I not been wearing it, I would have been knocked senseless when that mutant landed on me, and I’d be in the stomachs of a herd of ghouls. So, what is the nature of the second treasure I obtained?”
Fidik looked the smaller box over again. “It’s perfect for a man such as yourself. It’s called the NX-712 Mini Pocket Radio. It will allow you to hear the voices of men who are not present. Many of us wise men use similar magic to communicate over great distances. I will inscribe on this device the arcane coordinates and times at which you may find my voice, as well as those which will let you conjur the sounds that drive away mutants. I will not always be speaking, but the warding song that repels beasts can be found at all times, though I fear my magic can only project it as far as the red hills. I send it from this.” Fidik placed his hand on a strange looking contraption with a long, thin, metal protrusion extending from the top. “It is called the Hamray Dio.”
Varn was intrigued, even though Fidik tended to babble. “Aye, Fidik, I do not understand but half of what you’ve said, but I trust it does what you say it does, and I am both grateful and impressed. Any magic that lets me avoid mutants is a magic I can learn to love.”
“So, Varn,” spoke the sorcerer. “Now that you’re here, how long do you think you’ll stay? The town can always use a man of your skill and might.”
“Oh, who can say, Fidik. Perhaps until my wounds heal. But not long. My legs will grow restless and my heart forever yearns to see the new and the miraculous. I hear that if one travels west from here, they can see so much water in one place that the eye cannot see the opposing shore. I should very much like to see such a spectacle, if it exists.”
Fidik nodded thoughtfully. “And if it exists, Varn, I am sure you will see it.”
