The Apocalypse Contract

CHAPTER 32 - ROGER

Roger reached down and grasped Sydney's arm, helping her from the spider pit and back to the forest floor. They lay there, staring up at the tops of the towering mushrooms, catching their breath.

"I feel like I've been put through a food processor," Sydney moaned.

"I, as well. What is a food processor?"

Sydney sat up. "We should get moving. It's getting dark, and the rock maze would be a better place to spend the night."

"Yes, of course, because napping in a 'rock maze' sounds ever so much more comfortable than sleeping on this soft, mattress-like fungus."

"When we're trapped in one of your boyhood story books, you can decide where we make camp."

"I mostly read textbooks and poetry when I was young." Roger rose to his feet.

Sydney gave him a curious look. "What is that in your hand?"

"This? It's my dueling sword. No adventurer should be without one." He held the piece of spider leg before him in a basic en-garde position, performed a few simple thrusts and lunges, then returned to first position.

"You're going to hurt yourself with that thing."

"Nonsense. It makes a fine foil. See, this part here where it was attached to the knee joint is a perfect handle. The balance isn't optimal, but one must make do."

Sydney just shook her head and started walking. Roger fell in beside her. Eventually they emerged from the mushroom forest to a plain of remarkably normal looking grass. They waded through that until they reached a river. The current appeared dark and strong.

"I don't like the looks of that," Roger observed.

"Me neither," Sydney agreed, "especially considering it shouldn't be here. We should have reached the rock maze by now."

They followed the river downstream in hopes of finding an easier place to cross. Eventually a bridge came into sight. "That better not be what I think it is," Sydney declared.

They drew closer. Standing on the sturdy timber bridge was a lone figure in gray-blue armor. It held a sword, point down, in front of it, clasping the handle with claw-like hands.

Roger tilted his head and gave it a curious look. "That armor gives this chap the appearance of a..."

"A crab? Yeah, because that's basically what it is. Meet the Guardian of the Gate. It's supposed to be up near the castle." Sydney turned her head to the sky and shouted, "Stop messing with the chronology; it's really annoying."

"How do we get past it, according to the book?"

"We circle around the castle and find a storm drain, then sneak in that way."

"We're not at the castle," Roger observed.

"Yes, I know. That's why I'm really annoyed."

Roger raised his spider leg sword. "Maybe I could fight it."

"It's supposed to be unbeatable."

"I've met plenty of braggarts that said the same. They always lose eventually."

"You're that good?"

"I didn't say they lost to me." Nevertheless, he ventured forward, spider sword held before him.

Roger saluted with his sword and approached the Guardian. It lunged toward him, swinging its own sword violently. Roger defended with a quarte parry followed by a quick riposte. The Guardian was driven back but quickly attacked again. Roger again parried and counterattacked.