Chapter 2: This Isn’t Glamping, That’s For Sure.

Understanding that magic is real differs significantly from the knowledge that it is real.

When the driver of this little cart had been unable to provide me a lighter, and after I'd answered Oscar's questions about what in the world a cigarette was, I got my first little demonstration of it. Abracadabra, alakazam, my knightly, and perhaps not-so-worldly friend, snapped his fingers and lit my cigarette. A flame danced from his fingers then flew towards my mouth in an instant, so fast I barely caught it. But then the tip of my cigarette turned a nice orange glow and never one to waste my smokes I started dragging on it. The driver didn't seem to mind. When I'd taken that cigarette down to nearly the filter, I offered Oscar one. He didn't seem to care much for smoking, until I told him it was a gift that I'd appreciate him taking for the sake of being so generous towards me.

It's not like I had any money with which to pay him back!

So he took it, lit it up with the same spell, and I told him, slow, steady drags, doff the ashes out on something that isn't you or a horse. Then he started answering the questions I had for him.

Firstly, where are we and what's the news?

Right now, Arcadia, the continent we were on, and specifically, Goedelun, the country we were in, was preparing for the return of the Lord of Demons. The highest servant of the Dark Gods, he was a tyrant selected from the ranks of warlords and barons of Capital-H Hell each century. You could identify his return by the general organization and power of the various monsters around the world. Warbands of imps and such, smaller devils, a general increase in banditry, things of the sort. Most of Goedelun was good farmland, with trade conducted on the coasts and up and down the rivers. The caravan we were a part of had a number of goods desired in Alfhuus, like a particular gemstone mined and processed in the town we came from, and Alfhuus traded magical trinkets and potions for them. Caravanning like this was generally quite well-respected, and for Oscar was how he was getting his start.

I think I'd heard of this one before. So I asked him where we were headed, and he pointed to the road ahead of us. "We are to make Alfhus by tomorrow morning, after a short night. Alfhus is from there about seven days to the capitol and the king's palace, where I seek the flaming sword. There too is a college of magicians who may be able to help you in your quest for your friend, if you wish to travel with me there. This caravan is on a route from Alfhuus to Stonebrook, so they'll be returning from whence they came after they've unloaded and rested. I'd be willing to take you to the capitol, if we find another caravan in that time."

"That sounds about right." I nodded my head along. I think I was still in shock from this sudden transportation I had. Everything he said to me made total sense. Of course the man in the striped pants with all the medieval arms and armor on his pony would say there's a college of magicians. "A flaming sword? Tell me about that. I've heard of flaming swords before."

"You have?"

"Tell me if you've heard this one before. The gates of, ah, Paradise, Heaven if you want to call it that, there's an angel out front of it who bounces people out if they aren't up to snuff, and he's got a big flaming sword to do the bouncing with. It's part of the, ah, church I grew up with."

Oscar's eyes lit up. "You're a man of faith? That's interesting, which god do you follow?"

That was a silly question. "God. Like, the, God. Sorta. Well, uh, not really, my parents were Southern Baptists, I'm not in the church anymore, but, y'know, charity, doing good deeds, turn the other cheek, all that good stuff Jesus was all about, the Ten Commandments. And the other stuff, too, whipping money changers, cursing fig trees, turning water into wine, that's my favorite verse, y'know. Is there a spell that turns water into wine?"

The knight squinted at me. "Water into wine! That's a miracle! I'd love to see if there's one like that at the capitol, but no, I have not heard of such an incantation."

Scratch meeting ersatz-Jesus over here. Though a question crossed my mind, which was of some concern to me. "I'm not going to be burned at the stake for not believing in your gods, now, am I?"

The driver next to me laughed. "So our wandering fellow here is a pagan, too? What are the chances of that!"

I glared, while Oscar smirked and knocked the ashes off his cigarette. "No, no burning at the stake, unless it turns out you're conspiring with demons, you'll be fine. But you don't strike me as the type. You just seem like quite a strange fellow."

"The pagan and the strange fellow is in the eye of the beholder," I snapped back, "So what god do you follow, wise guy?"

"The Heavenly Father, of course, but I follow in the footsteps of Saint Aristeus. The hero who wielded the flaming sword against the first Demon Lord, who gave his life to seal the powers of the Dark Gods and allow us a fighting chance every hundred years. His brother, Saint Eleutherius, founded the church."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. You've got to be kidding me. "Is this before or after the Reformation?"

"The what?" Oscar cocked his head at me.

"Nevermind. Thought you might have been Catholic," I said, noticing the sun getting lower to our left, shadows lengthening. It had finally peaked out through gaps in the cloud cover, though now it reminded us it would be dark soon. I think it was about four or five o'clock when I stepped foot here. I wondered if they kept the time the same way. "You said Alfhus is where we're going? Now, where exactly will we be stopping for the night? Also, as a quick question, which way does the sun rise, and which way does it set? I'd like to get my bearings."

Oscar also turned his head to the setting sun. Frankly, it'd be a beautiful sight, orange tinging the sky and lighting through the leaves. "There's a common resting spot for this caravan, and for that, the sun sets in the west and rises in the east."

"Thank God, something is normal, so we're going north and coming from the south, I hope to God, right?"

The driver nudged me with an elbow. "You hope right! Where else would we be going, young man? We'll be stopping soon, and you've been good conversation, but you ought to put those arms of yours to work helping set up camp!" As if to emphasize, he wrapped a hand around one of my biceps. Truthfully, I hadn't noticed that I was a good bit more muscular than every man I'd seen here. I chalked that one up to good nutrition and eating my veggies. I did stand taller than most people here, as well. No doubt they'd be wanting me to move and lift things for them. I could make some money doing that kind of thing.

But I was not going to be judged for that. "Didncha figure me for more the talking around and drinking beer type? My talents are more in looking handsome, y'know."

The driver, whom I had taken to be the head of this caravan, laughed. "I'll be the judge of your talents. You can repay our kindness by being put to work. I'm sure Sir Oscar would take no issue with it."

Something told me it'd be a long night.

About a half hour later, we'd stopped and set up camp. I was charged with moving the heavy things out and about. That wasn't terribly difficult. I noticed most of the other wagons were manned by small families, all of them younger than the old driver I had been sat with. It seemed I'd stumbled on a clan of caravanners. The kids looked up at me in awe as I helped manage their affairs, pulling out heavy traveling trunks for each family and setting them around the camp. Clearly, they had never seen an American before. Or anybody capable of lugging around all of their heavy bullshit so easily. I received many, many questions from them. I did not care to repeat half of what I said to Oscar, so I told them that I'd tell them later if I had the time. Or if their parents were kind enough to provide me alcohol

Listen. Every man has his vices. Oscar overheard some of this and chided me. He was, of course, our man-at-arms, so he was set to keeping a watchful eye. It also seemed he was the virtuous, teetotaling sort. God forbid I stained that part of him by offering a cigarette to him. Maybe I'd just keep the cancer statistics to myself.

We settled in a clearing off the road by about a hundred feet. Once they'd seen me drive in a tent stake with two good wacks, Oscar and the head of the caravan gave me a new duty: drive in all the tent stakes into the frozen earth. Frankly, I didn't mind it, and it let about half the caravan out into the woods. There was still about an hour of daylight. I saw some of the men walk into the woods with bows, hoping for a fresh catch. They had their young boys with them, stalking into the dusk. The women and girls, about half of them, set about to collecting firewood. I'd been given a rough idea of where to nail down a bunch of these stakes, and I'd gotten busy at it, under the watchful eyes of Oscar and the leader. I didn't mind it, it kept my hands warmed up in the breeze. The women and girls absolutely adored me as I pulled out the fabrics they used for their tents.

I quite marveled at the ingenuity of the design, actually. While I did most of the heavy lifting, a pleasant couple with a teenaged son and a young daughter helped me understand how they set up their tents. We unrolled large bolts of a heavy fabric, which seemed to me to be impregnated with some kind of sealant or wax or something like that. I hoped to God it was waterproof. It looked tough at least. The man and woman stood on one side, lifted, and I took the other one. We first unrolled the flooring of the tent, which was the heaviest thing by far, and centered it in the tent stakes. I adjusted a few of them, yanking up the inner ring of spikes and driving them into the eyelets. All told, it had a circular pattern to it.

Then we put in the tent poles. The ones in the center were a three piece affair. They handed me a metal loop, which the three poles went inside of. At the top, the two of the poles went into one piece of metal, and the other went into a third, which hooked together at the top. The metal hoop slid low and kept everything from spreading too far out. The tent wasn't tall enough for me to stand up straight in. Even these folks would be struggling for headroom. But what I saw next justified it. They took out more fabrics and tent poles and had me finesse them into place. I saw it all take shape. It was a large, communal tent which had a central area where fires could be started, and smoke allowed to waft up and out of the middle of it. Frankly, I thought it was pretty smart!

All told, setting up the whole thing took another half hour, and by then the boys and men had returned. A few came bearing fish, some had gotten rabbits. The girls had returned with a number of mushrooms and leaves in small baskets. The rest came back with enough kindling and branches to sustain a fire, for at least a little while. All told, it wasn't much this time of year. I heard one woman say they'd have to dig into their rations. Oscar chewed on a lump of something, probably some prepared food. My stomach growled. I had a light lunch before I came, and this cold and work had gotten me hungry. Once the tent had been set up, I didn't have much else to do, so I requested a seat, and God help me, had another cigarette.

One of the men was gracious enough to hand me a lighter, and I thanked him. He was a young man, probably my age, his wife a little younger than that, and they had a seven year old with them. He had a mop of red hair on his head and slight smile on his face that no amount of dirt or smudge could seem to wear off. I thanked him again when he showed me how to use the damn thing.

"Aye, so you helped set up this tent?" He looked over my handiwork. I nodded. "Not bad, what was your name again, son?"

"Jack Roebuck," I said in between drags. At least the nicotine would calm my rumbling stomach. I assumed they'd be preparing some kind of light meal, what with the iron skillets and pans I had gotten out and provided for them in the middle of the tent. I hoped to God they had some salt and pepper. "You care if I have some of that rabbit? I ain't gonna lie to ya, I didn't exactly get a chance to chow down before I came here."

"We didn't get much, but I'm sure we can spare you some. By the way, I wanted to ask, where did you come from-"

I raised my hand with the cigarette to cut him off. "Pardon me, if I sound kinda rude or impolite, but you ain't the first to ask that," I sighed, "can it wait until I've had some food? Please? Maybe some alcohol, too, beer's good, gin is better, and I'd marry ya for some rye whiskey."

The man pursed his lips. At least he nodded in understanding and laughed at the joke. "Adelard said you were quite the entertainer, I might have a bottle or two lying around. Certainly, it can wait."

I sighed. "You get me a beer and I'll tell you and everybody else over dinner. I'm about half wore out from explaining everything to the knight in shining armor over there and the boss of this caravan, so my apologies, again."

He seemed pleased, and wandered off. I was just about to relax, when Oscar came up to me. I got a better look at his sword, sheathed on his left side. Judging from the sheath, it was a long, thin kind of saber, probably for dueling. He held in one hand the large ax, which I figured was for either splitting skulls or splitting wood. With the butt of it on the ground, the head came up to his eye, with a head about as large as a dinner plate, and inch thick at the widest. It looked ferocious. I wouldn't want to be a tree when that thing came out. Nor did I want to be on the receiving end of it. "Jack, how goes it? Doing well, I would hope?

"Feels like I'm back in the Boy Scouts." By now the sun had almost totally set. A few lanterns went up around the campsite, and all the people were starting to gather in the big tent. "And by that, I mean, setting up tents. It gonna get cold tonight?"

"It will be a chilly night," Oscar said, gazing behind me and into the woods. He had on kind of a distant look, as if searching for something between the trunks. He pursed his lips and then met my eyes. Everybody here had to look up to me when they talked to me. I was a tall guy back home, here, I must have seemed like a giant to them. "If it doesn't bother you, I'd like to ask you to take the first guard with me. The woods out here are... fraught with things, and I need to keep an eye on everyone."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" I was betting on goblins, ghouls, maybe a werewolf, or perhaps orcs. My mind went back to a game I played. Maybe there were zombies in it, foul warlocks, witches of the sort that kidnapped children to bake into bread. Oscar took a deep breath then spoke again.

"Shapechangers, which is what I was worried you were. Are you familiar?"

"Can't say I am, what are they? Like doppelgangers, fairies, werewolves or something?" He'd said the word before but only in passing.

"Mind yourself. They are called Fair Folk," He corrected me, sternly, casting a glance into the forest. I took this as some kind of faux pas on my part. Not wanting to unleash the wrath of... I don't know any fairies, maybe his fairy godmother, Tinker Bell, little Keebler elves baking cookies in a tree, I listened. "A shapechanger is a natural swindler and deceiver. It is their nature. They have the power to take the shape of a human, or an elf, or any kind of animal you can think of, and things in between which would terrify you. They... swear fealty to fairy lords, rather than the Father. However, they are reasonable. Here, take this, if you suspect something is a shapechanger, press it to their skin."

He reached into a small bag on his waist and withdrew another silver coin. I wondered if it was the one I'd tried to take a bite out of, as he handed it to me. "Ah, for figuring them out, like you tried to figure me out? What would happen to them?"

"You learn quickly!" Oscar grinned, and I took the coin, sticking it in the pocket of my jeans. At least he wasn't explaining things slowly to me, like I was stupid or something. "I have to remember you know nothing. Just as the Father blessed the moon to cast its light, and offer a kind of clarity even in the darkness, He also blessed silver with these same powers of clarity, like... shards of moonlight. The full moon lets us see them, the silver lets us know them. Press the silver coin to the skin of a demon or shapechanger or illusion, it will waver."

I looked up at the sky. Some of the clouds had broken, revealing parts of the night sky to me. I knew, from the deep, pitch blackness of the forest, that it was a New Moon.

I'd been out on a night like this, way back, out in the scrub, out in the mountains and badlands of Utah and Montana. Clear nights, high in the mountains, far from any light, and in between Heaven and Earth it was me on the ground with a bunch of beers and- a lot of good memories. I'd been so focused on the food and beer and talking with Oscar, that I had completely disregarded what was above my head.

It was a tapestry of foreign stars. They were arranged in constellations I didn't recognize. It wasn't the Milky Way up there, that was for sure.

A chill went down my spine. I had to clear my throat. Oscar looked at me. His eyes were concerned. But I managed to sort myself out. I just didn't want to look upwards. I threw on a smile, the same winning one I always wore. I don't know if I wanted to see the full moon. "Ah, I see, so are they monsters, then? Should I be worried? Maybe ask you for a weapon, maybe? A big stick to wack them over the head with, or a spear to poke them with, like I'm some kinda caveman or something?"

The man-at-arms tightened his coinpurse and looked at me, face stern. "I think they're problems, the lot of them, but they're useful sometimes. So, no, not monsters. Just... nuisances. Headaches. I've seen them, never much cared for them."

I raised an eyebrow. "Useful, how?"

He took the blunt end of his ax and drew a faint circle in front of him idly. "How useful do you think being able to change into just about any beast or any person can be? You seem a witful fellow, you can figure it for yourself."

"That's fair, that's fair." By now everyone had retired to the tent. All of the beasts of burden were tied to nearby trees. Oscar and I went to a wagon and retrieved some rather crude folding chairs, made of wooden rods with a brass hinge. It was a little small for me, but I think I'd have to make do. Then we got out a number of hides and furs and blankets which had certainly seen much usage, from a wrap on his pony. He asked if I knew how to use a weapon, and I showed him my pocket knife, and he was impressed with it, mostly with the mechanism. Then he handed me a spear, which I leaned on the chair. Apparently, poking things with it was deadly. Whodathunkit? He excused me to go eat, while he sat outside and got comfortable.

About ten, fifteen or so minutes later and after enough of a rundown that I'd promised the kids and adults, I stepped outside with a beer in my hand. Oscar gave me a disapproving look.

"What, you a teetotaler?" I held it up so he could see, his expression never wavering from his look of mild disapproval. God! He reminded me of my uncle! "It's one bottle. I bet it's only 2.5% alcohol by volume. That's weak stuff."

"I would say it is one bottle too many to be on guard duty."

I shrugged. "When we get to Alfhuus, I'm finding you a cute little tavern wench and I'm gonna get you and her to hook up."

Once again, they were half words he'd heard, half he hadn't, so I clarified by rattling off euphemisms and innuendos for having sex with a stranger. By the time I'd gotten to the peculiar ones, Oscar'd gained a small blush on his face and he chided me. By poking me with the not-pointy end of his axe. I got the point. "I take it... where you come from, the sexual mores are more... relaxed?"

"Some would say they are too relaxed." I sipped my beer. It sucked. Piss-water was too kind. Bitter, somehow, and thick. I think I understood why Oscar didn't drink. "But that's a different conversation."

"You seem good for that," he settled in. "So give me some conversation, it will help pass the time."

I sighed. "I'm going to start charging you and everybody else for money by the word, y'know? I think my rates'd be pretty fair!"