Helen and Troy's Epic Road Quest (24 page)

The next morning Helen was hoping they wouldn't have to talk about anything, but she expected Troy wouldn't let it drop so easily. He hadn't gotten this far in life by being easily discouraged. He did bring it up after they'd packed everything in the Chimera. It was, thankfully, a brief exchange.

He settled into the driver's seat and spoke without looking at her. “Hel, I want you to know that I think you're wrong, but I respect your decision. I won't push it.”

“Thanks, Troy. I appreciate that.”

A twinge of disappointment hit her. She didn't want him to press the issue, but she realized she'd been hoping deep down inside that he'd be more persistent. It was unfair to both of them. If he didn't take no for an answer, then he was a jerk. If he backed off, then he probably lacked the necessary commitment to make any kind of relationship work.

If this was dating, she was glad she had so little experience with it.

“Troy, I just want you to know that in a different world, I'd have been thrilled. And I'm glad you're my friend.”

“There's no one I'd rather quest with.”

Achilles whimpered from the backseat.

“I guess you're all right too, dog.” Troy reached back and scratched Achilles behind the ears.

“We haven't made you into a dog person, have we?” she asked.

“They have their good points.”

He started the Chimera and they resumed their travels. The Lands of Adventure wasn't difficult to find. Only two hours down the road, just off the interstate.

The billboards had made it clear the Lands of Adventure was an amusement park. They hadn't prepared Troy and Helen for the size of it. It looked to be almost as big as Disneyland, and judging by the crowded parking lot there was no shortage of customers. They had to take a shuttle to get to the front gates, modeled after a castle's.

Costumed characters and mascots were stationed to greet arrivals. Half appeared to be ordinary people dressed in kitschy getups. The other half were genuine enchanteds and thaumaturgicals though dressed a bit garishly. A family posed for a photo with a pair of harpies. A six-armed giant danced cheerfully for several giggling children.

A gorgon, her face hidden behind a veil, stopped Helen.

“Cast members aren't supposed to enter through the front.” The gorgon's serpent tail flicked.

Helen pulled the tickets from her pocket. “I'm a customer.”

The gorgon's blood-red eyes widened. “Oh, I'm terribly sorry. My mistake.” She directed them toward the ticket takers.

“This is going to be a long day,” muttered Helen.

“Lighten up, Hel. We're here to have fun.”

“No, we're here to fight something or do something dangerous to get a new relic.”

“Yes, but while we're here we might as well have some fun.”

He grinned at her. It struck her as odd. It wasn't strange to see him smile. Nor was it strange for him to be positive. But there was something different about this grin. Something forced. For the first time, he looked as if he was trying too hard.

They asked the ticket taker, a sixteen-year-old boy in chain mail, about the park's policy on dogs.

“You can bring in anything you want,” said the boy.

Helen considered going back to grab her wand from the Chimera's trunk. Troy talked her out of it.

“It doesn't make any sense to go in unarmed,” she said.

“I'm not going to lug around a sword and shield all day, Hel.”

“I'm pretty sure there's going to be a monster or something in there.”

“Not necessarily,” said Troy. “It can't be that dangerous. They're letting children go in.”

“Are there monsters in there?” asked Helen of the ticket taker.

“Yes, ma'am. Lots of them. Most of them aren't dangerous, though.”

“Most?”

The ticket taker shrugged, adjusted his collar to scratch underneath it. “We have incidents, but if you pay attention to the signs, stay out of the off-limit areas, you should be fine. Oh, and if you go to the Sea Serpent Super Spectacular, I recommend avoiding the tentacle zone. The giant squid is well fed, but she is still very grabby.”

“I'm getting my wand.”

They rode the shuttle all the way to the car and collected their items of power. She took the amulet. He took the sword and shield. She suggested he wear the helmet, but he made an excuse about how uncomfortable it looked. It covered its wearer's entire face, save for two slits for the eyes. He thought he glimpsed something in those slits. The helmet caused his curse mark to burn with a prickly heat. The pain was strangely compelling. Comforting in a way.

Helen snapped her fingers at him, drawing him from his distraction.

“Hey, you OK in there?” she asked.

He tucked the helmet under his arm and pretended he couldn't hear it whispering to him. “You better be right about this.”

“You'll thank me when some beast of legend leaps from the shadows. If there's one thing I've learned from this quest, it's that relics don't just drop into our laps. There's always something we've got to overcome. Unless you think we'll find the next one as a prize at the dunking booth.”

“No. You're probably right.” He adjusted all the gear slung across his back. “You better be, because this is going to be hell to take on the roller coasters.”

They returned to the gate, where the ticket taker didn't say a word about Troy's sword.

“This is a real magic sword,” he said. “Not a replica.”

“I'm aware, sir.”

“Aren't you worried about me hurting people?”

“Should I be, sir?”

Troy admitted defeat. Helen laughed. It was good to hear her laugh.

On the other side of the gates, the Lands of Adventure was a wonderland of amusement park design. To get to the park proper they had to walk down a quaint cobblestone road lined on either side with gift shops in the shapes of cottages. Whoever was in charge of signs had gone a tad overboard with the phrase
Ye Olde
, and everything, from the stuffed dragons to the baseball caps and collectible crystal figures, was overpriced. But it was charming in a prepackaged, family-friendly, inoffensive way.

Troy bought a backpack with a cartoon kraken on it and shoved the helmet into it. It didn't quiet the whispers.

A mishmash of costumed characters and monsters walked among the tourists. The park spread its theme as far as it could, and while it was a bit weird to see a bare-chested Hercules only a few feet from a fully armored knight and a capering Monkey King, it all made sense in an eclectic way. The greatest hits of legend.

Troy pointed to a handsome young man juggling balls of string. “Hey, they have a Theseus.”

“Great,” said Helen. “Maybe I can punch his face in as payback for my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.”

“I didn't know you were related to the original minotaur.”

“I have no idea if I am, but I still could do without meeting that guy.”

But Troy was already getting Theseus's attention. Smiling, the curly-haired performer came over, never stopping his juggling.

“Excuse me,” said Troy, “but would you mind terribly if we got a photo of you with my friend here?”

Theseus was all too happy to cooperate. Eager even. And when Troy suggested they get a photo with Theseus in a headlock, he didn't hesitate. Maybe it wasn't the real Theseus, but it was close enough to bring a smile to Helen's face.

Troy unfolded the park map and pointed out areas of interest. “Too bad. It says here that Castle Adventure is under repair.”

The castle, a construct of faux stone, stood on a tall hill at the center of the park.

He said, “Hey, they have a labyrinth.”

“Think I'll pass on that.”

“OK, how about we check out Underworld Land? Says here the Cerberus roller coaster is the third-tallest in the world. Also, you can get your soul weighed beside a feather.”

Her voice fell flat. “Sounds like fun.”

“Hel, we're here. We might as well enjoy ourselves.”

He was right, but she was in a sour mood. There was something in the air. Something that made her fur bristle. Her muscles were tight. Her nerves were frayed. She blamed it on her minotaurism. She unconsciously rubbed her arm where her bracelet should have been. Troy noticed, but said nothing.

She also wanted very much to avoid having a good time with Troy. She needed to put a wall between them because whenever he smiled at her, whenever he made her laugh, whenever she made him laugh, she found herself forgetting the impossibility of anything more between them. She couldn't count on Troy to be sensible about this, so she had to be the one who kept things in check. Having too much fun with Troy made that harder to do.

He put his hand on her arm. She wanted to pull away, but couldn't make herself do it.

She smiled at him. “Sorry, just not feeling like myself today. But you're right. Let's have some fun. Eat, drink, ride roller coasters. For tomorrow we die.”

He pulled her down the street. “That's the spirit.”

The Wild Hunt pulled into the Lands of Adventure without much joy. Their wounds from the dragon fight had healed enough that their orc blood allowed them to ignore the pain, but twenty hours of solid revelry had taken their toll.

Nigel ran his tongue around his dry mouth. He chugged his fourth bottle of water of the day. It helped, but he wasn't as young as he used to be. If he was honest with himself, he'd never been much of a drinker, even in college, and he'd gotten a bit carried away after their fight with the dragon.

His body was in good shape. Surprisingly good. He knew he had a genetic advantage when it came to pushing through pain, but all the ache that should've been in his bones was noticeably absent. The other club members had healed up as well, and it was no mystery why. The dragon blood and vomit had enchanted them. They didn't need the spirits to tell them that.

Nigel and Franklin, having been most thoroughly doused by the dragon's supernatural bile, were blessed with speedy regeneration that kept them going. The others healed slower, based on the amount of dried goop still sticking to their skin and clothes.

Dragon blood. There wasn't much it couldn't do.

Unfortunately, one of those things was cure a hangover, and while the Wild Hunt had healed up nicely from their wounds, they all struggled against the alcohol-fueled imps throttling their brains.

Their binge had taken more casualties than the dragon itself. Carl Heartchewer, Travis Bladebiter, and Susan Scalphack were too nauseous to ride, and no one had been able to wake Bob Earripper. The best they'd been able to do was roll him out of the puddle of his own vomit and throw a blanket over him so that he could sleep it off.

Only Franklin had been spared the bulk of the hangover because his pathetic constitution had forced him to switch to ginger ale early in the revelry. There were advantages to being an orc in a human body.

Peggy, paler than normal, which meant you could practically see the bones under her skin, pointed to the amusement park gates. “They're in there.”

The club parked their motorcycles in a spot by the front gates. A knight tried to tell them it was a tow-away zone, but right now no one could give a damn. Harold Marrowmaw wrapped the knight in a headlock, but Nigel ordered the guy released. He was just doing his job.

“Tow the damn things then,” said Nigel.

The knight clomped away.

The orcs approached the ticket booth. A disinterested teenager charged them admission, and Nigel paid for everyone with a credit card just barely under its limit.

“Before we kill these two,” said Franklin, “can we maybe ride a roller coaster or two?”

The other club members groaned. No one felt much like being jerked and thrust around in a little cart.

“I hope they have snow cones.”

Franklin ran ahead, and Nigel recalled his family vacation to Disneyland. The screaming, the crowds, the horrible little creatures that kept calling him “Dad” dragging him around the park like sadistic slave masters until he seriously considered abandoning them on the teacup ride and driving to Mexico.

Today couldn't be any worse than that.

Franklin bought a churro from a cart and devoured the sugary treat while sporting an idiotic grin.

“Can we kill him today?” asked James Eyestabber.

Nigel pushed his sunglasses up his crooked nose. The late-afternoon sun was still too damn bright.

The grumbling orcs trailed after their human brother.

Despite her best effort, Helen started having fun. She could pinpoint the exact moment it started. It was on Odysseus's Wild Voyage. As they were trapped between Scylla and Charybdis, the boat guide instructed them in the art of frightening away the animatronic terror and calming the whirlpool via cheering and clapping. It might not have been a historically accurate way to overcome the obstacle, but it was impossible not to be swept along with the energy of the other passengers. When Scylla lowered its six heads in herky-jerky defeat, the boat's passengers let out a cheer. Helen high-fived the ten-year-old girl next to her, and lost the will to fight the good time.

Together Troy and Helen tamed the Cerberus coaster twice. They proved themselves worthy of the blessings of the Qilin (earning some souvenir T-shirts), and routed a group of surly bullies at the bumper cars.

Park visitors mistook her for an employee now and then. She stopped getting annoyed and started rolling with it, posing for photos, letting children touch her fur and horns (as long as they asked politely). It reminded her she was different, but that being different wasn't always a problem.

She most enjoyed the Siege of the Mad Necromancer Interactive Stunt Show, where the audience took on the roles of heroes against impossible odds. The magic animating the skeletons caused them to fall apart at the slightest touch. It didn't matter. It somehow still felt heroic to “save” the villagers, even if she did so with a foam rubber sword. While the maintenance crews swept up the piles of bones, Troy stood by a fountain. Two huts filtered the late-afternoon light so that a golden beam shone down on him like a spotlight, as if the heavens smiled down on him for his glorious triumph and foreshadowed all the glorious triumphs to come.