Sam
As the commotion began to die down, Sam broke away from Mags to connect up with the rest of her group one platform over.
Mongrel met her as she stepped off the connecting rope bridge, and seized her by the collar to pin her in place while he looked her up, down, and spun her around.
"You look fine, for the most part," he said begrudgingly as he took a step back. That confirmation didn't lessen his dark frown at all, however. "Now, explain yourself! What got into your head, going off and making this much trouble for the rest of us?"
"I'm sorry," Sam replied, chewing on her lip. "I didn't mean to. I don't even really know what happened last night—I've only heard snippets myself."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Um," Oatmeal squeaked, standing a ways off.
"Shut it, grinner bait!" Mongrel snapped his fingers sharply in the youth's general direction.
"Yes, but—"
"I said be quiet, or I'm halving your rations!"
"I might be able to explain a little of what happened," Mags said as she vaulted over the handrail ringing the platform, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
Click, clack went her clogs.
"You!" went Mongrel.
"Me!" went Mags with a bright laugh. "My reputation precedes me, I see. Has my little Darling been telling you about me already?"
"I don't need to hear a word to know you're nothing but trouble with tits glued on. Let me guess—you're somehow the cause of all this, are you?" He crossed his arms, and several of his chimps did the same, forming a sort of forbidding line between her and the rest of the group.
Mags's lazy grin didn't slip a hair. "I do have a knack for getting myself into bother, it's true. Whether this particular little misadventure was my fault, I suppose I'll let you fine upstanding frontiersmen decide for yourselves."
She went on to briefly recount the events of the night prior, giving mostly the same details as she had when telling Sam about it. They'd gotten drunk together in The Hole, then were attacked by Vadim, and Mags had protected the both of them in self-defense.
Sam wasn't sure how much of it she believed, herself. She would have liked for it to be true, if for no other reason than the fact that it definitively acquitted her of killing a man. Whether justified or not, that just wasn't a line she wanted to cross. She suspected her nightmares were already going to be populated with dead grumplings for the foreseeable future—she didn't need any more guilt added on top of that.
Mongrel tapped his foot impatiently while listening to the woman's story. The fact that he kept his gaze on her face rather than her well-stuffed shirt top showed exactly the kind of regard he held her in. Sam had never known him to forgo an opportunity to ogle a woman—ever, really.
"There you have it," Mags said in conclusion with an airy flourish of her hands. "So, as you can tell, I am innocent as a lamb."
"Mmhmm," Mongrel grunted, not sounding particularly impressed. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. We're off the hook, so we'll find ourselves a guide and get quit of this town as soon as our feet'll carry us."
"About that," Sam said with a sigh, "we might be in a bit more trouble than we thought. I was trying to look into the names Vivi gave us when, uh, all this happened. She gave us three leads—two of them were already dead when I was asking around, and Vadim was the last. If he attacked us, I suppose that means he must have been working for Brimstone or something.
"But, well, with him gone I don't know how else we're going to find a guide to Freetown, and I don't think the locals are going to be all that stoked to help us considering… recent events."
"Motherfucker," Mongrel muttered, rubbing the bridge of his crooked nose. "Then we'll… Aw, fuck. I guess we have no choice but to keep shaking trees around here, hope something falls out before these inbreds talk themselves into a grudge over the bodies you've left behind."
"In that case, it will have proven a short search indeed," Mags said with a supremely smug look. "You're Freetown bound, is that it? It just so happens I know the way—spent some time there just a couple months back."
"Convenient," Mongrel replied dully.
Mags laughed, hands on broad hips. "Isn't it just! As it happens, I don't have anything in particular filling up my schedule at the moment, and since I've become simply besotted with my little Darling here, I'm willing to take you free of charge." Arms outstretched, she looked around at the group. "Well, how about it? Not to brag, but I daresay you won't stumble on a better pathfinder south of Stormfront."
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Sam didn't really like the idea. There was something about Mags that rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe it was because of her ridiculous strength, or her general demeanor, or the odd timing of her appearance coupled with all the other guides having been eliminated. Maybe all of the above.
Then again…
"It's not like we have any other options," she said. "Either we take her along, or we're stuck here."
"I know, kid," Mongrel replied with a weary sigh. "I know. That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."
"Glad to be on the team!" Mags said, laughing as she ruffled Sam's hair, then went and stuck her hand out toward Mongrel. "I'm Magpie, but my friends call me Mags, or Maggie. And you must be the famous Mongrel, am I right?"
"That's right." The old man reluctantly shook her hand, the black bead bracelet on her wrist clicking with the up-and-down motion. "And you know about me because…?"
"Sam told me all about you, of course."
Mongrel glanced at Sam, one eyebrow raised. She just shrugged—didn't remember enough about the previous night to confirm or deny. "Fair enough," he said, taking a step back from her. "You know the others, too?"
Mags scanned over the group; chipped, black-painted nails clicking along the frame of her new revolver. "Bits and pieces. I can fill in the gaps while we're on the move, if you'd prefer. Your idea of a quick getaway sounds like a good one—we ought to put it into practice."
That sounded good to everyone. They returned to Icarus's clinic to gather their things, and Mongrel got Zero out of the stall where she had been stabled in a building set aside for the beasts of merchants and such. Luckily, the fungus that had infested them seemed to have left the mule alone, so she was in good health. After that they headed straight for the elevators, not even bothering to stock up on supplies.
The sooner they could put Talltop behind them, the better.
It appeared that the large cargo elevators needed several attendants to man the crank-operated pulleys. They were abandoned now, but Mags assured them that it would be fine. As soon as everyone was standing on one of the rectangular platforms, Mags waved her hand in the direction of the large crank sitting on the edge of the main platform. It began to spin of its own accord, as though operated by invisible workmen, and down they went at an almost frightening speed.
They reached ground level with a heavy thud that had the less physically inclined members of the group staggering. Sam caught Oatmeal by his collar before the lad could fall flat on his nose, and he offered breathless thanks.
Price had decided to stay on with them for the time being, since she reckoned she couldn't exactly stay in Talltop due to her unfortunate association with their group, and would likely have a hard time making it back to Timbryhall on her own. Neither she nor Oatmeal looked particularly pleased to be headed straight back into monster-infested wilderness—but for better or worse, they were along for the ride at this point.
The grandfather trees were even more impressive from ground level, towering above them like nature-wrought skyscrapers. Hardly any forestation grew around their feet, as though lesser trees did not dare encroach on their magnificence. Sam wondered if they had sprung up sometime in the fifty years since humans first settled these lands, or if they were older, a remnant from some primordial prototype of the Frontier.
Will would probably have had a lot to say on the matter. She resolved to ask him once she got back to Sheerhome. Only a few more days now. Regardless of how much time they had lost, she refused to entertain the notion that she would not make her fourteen-day deadline. She had made a promise, after all.
They followed Mags west—out of the grove of grandfather trees and into the more mundane wood that bordered it. She walked with unerring confidence, taking them along narrow game trails and breaks in the undergrowth. The terrain was rough, but Mags did seem to have a good sense for picking out the path of least resistance, however invisible it might be to the untrained eye. It helped inspire some confidence in Sam that the woman might know what she was doing.
In general, it felt good just to be making some kind of progress again. At times they heard strange cries in the distance—monsters, no doubt—but nothing came close enough to prove an impediment. Mags's talent allowed them to carry on well into the evening, past the point where the failing light ordinarily would have made pathfinding a treacherous endeavor indeed, before they finally stopped to make camp for the night.
Having only made two brief stops during the day to eat and rest their legs, most everyone was tired and sore and fed up and hungry. Sam herself could only really identify with the last one, as she was moderately exerted at best from the day's journey, but she thought it best not to mention that to the others.
Apparently, Oatmeal had reached Level 4 at some point during the day.
"You've got interesting friends, little Darling," Mags said around a bite of food, washing it down with a swallow of vodka from a flask she had more or less coerced from Mongrel. The woman's eyes glittered in the light of the cook fire between them. She had tied her black-and-white hair back in a big, messy bun. "It's been a while since I found myself in company quite this eccentric."
She spared a glance at Gug, who sat cross-legged with an open book on one knee and a bowl of food on the other. Then she looked at the chimps, who were off in their own little huddle playing cards. Then, finally, she looked back at Sam, her winsome grin widening.
"You have to admit you're not so normal yourself," Sam replied, having finished her own portion and started in on Oatmeal's leftovers. "I wouldn't mind knowing a bit more about you."
"Oh, I'm not all that interesting."
"I'm not sure I believe that."
Mags let out an exclamatory grunt as she took another swallow of vodka, then tossed the flask back to Mongrel. "I know!" she said, and reclined on her elbows, setting her breasts wobbling atop her torso. "Let's make a game of it!"
"A game?" Sam asked, skeptical.
"Yeah! Truth or dare—who's in?"
Maybe it would have been smarter to excuse herself, but Sam had always had a hard time backing down from a challenge.
"Sure," she said. "I'll play."
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