Where Gods Fear to Go

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Where Gods Fear to Go Page 25

by Angus Watson


  “Then who is missing?”

  “Let’s wait until we’ve got everybody together.”

  It is Bodil, Sitsi thought. Sofi knew about her and Keef–Sofi knew everything–and she was enjoying the torment. But what could have happened? Sitsi prayed to Innowak that Bodil was all right. Or at least not too badly hurt.

  Keef was walking ahead of them, in earshot. He didn’t turn, but the back of his neck was a brighter red than usual. Was he terrified that the missing person might be Bodil? Or elated?

  Finn the Deep stopped to adjust Foe Slicer’s baldric and let Ottar, Erik, Chogolisa, Sassa, Wulf, Thyri and Yoki Choppa overtake.

  He didn’t want to see Paloma Pronghorn.

  He was desperate to see Paloma Pronghorn.

  He felt sick. As the others headed up along the path chatting away, he stood on his own. He’d been pondering Moolba’s words about the self-destructive stupidity of buffalo-headedly pursuing someone who wasn’t interested, and had more or less persuaded himself that he was no longer in love with Thyri.

  But now he was going to see Paloma. She wasn’t interested, was she? But she’d kissed him! While they’d been apart, it had been all too easy to forget the slights, to enjoy the memory–and to lavishly embellish the memory–of their evening in the Black Mountains, and believe that maybe, just maybe, Pronghorn found him as attractive as he found her. Or at least attractive enough to kiss him again.

  But now he was going to see her, and he’d have to deal with the reality that, since they’d kissed, she’d hardly looked at him, and, when she had, she’d looked like a frightened and slightly disgusted deer.

  She was a decade older than him. She was beautiful, clever, funny, one of the best warriors in the world and cool as a badger’s bollocks in a blizzard. But he was Finn the Deep! He’d carried them from the Badlands, he’d defeated Krusha the squatch and… who was he kidding? He knew who he was. No matter his deeds, he was still Finnbogi the Boggy. He’d just been lucky a couple of times. What was more, who was the one person in the group who he hadn’t really saved? The only one able enough to escape anything on her own? Paloma Pronghorn. And Sofi probably. And possibly Sitsi and Chogolisa. But that wasn’t the point. Paloma had no reason to be impressed by his heroics and no reason to be grateful. Nobody did. He’d done what he’d done to save himself as much as anyone else. Nobody owed him anything.

  If anything, he deserved the opposite of gratitude from Paloma, whatever the opposite of gratitude was, because he had abandoned his child. How dare he think he deserved anyone’s love? Who was to say he wouldn’t do it again? Maybe Paloma would fall for him, he’d get her pregnant, and then leave again! That was the type of man he was! He shook his head, ill with self-loathing.

  He would go back afterwards, that’s what he’d do. When the Warlock Queen had her baby back, he’d return to his. He wasn’t such a bad guy. He was a man on a quest.

  He reckoned he had one chance with Paloma. Before they’d kissed, Finn hadn’t shown any romantic interest in her–you couldn’t count ogling her–because he was certain she’d never go for him. But she had! She’d kissed him! So, he told himself, if he acted in the same way again, surely she’d kiss him again. It was foolproof. He wasn’t going to ignore her. He was going to be civil and calm.

  Don’t be yourself. Be the best you can be. Then see who likes you. That’s what Moolba had said. It would definitely work.

  Only fools are certain, said dead Gunnhild in his mind.

  It might not work, he admitted.

  The others were far ahead and it was quiet in the canyon. Finn was alone for the first time in a long while. He looked up at the high red cliffs on both sides. Any number of monsters could have been watching, about to jump down on him. It was so dangerous and their quest had hardly begun. It had two parts–collect the coffin of the Warlock Queen’s child and take it to the Warlock Queen. And they hadn’t done either of those things yet. Suddenly Finn realised that he was going to die in this terrifying land. He’d been lucky so far. Surely the next monster that attacked or the next rope bridge that snapped was going to kill him.

  He hurried along the path to catch up with the others.

  They were all waiting for him in a clearing, as if proceedings couldn’t begin before he got there. Well, that was nice.

  He beamed at Sitsi, waved manically at Freydis, nodded manfully at Keef then smiled in a manly rather than manful way at Pronghorn. She smiled back at him, looking a little embarrassed.

  An excellent start.

  Sitsi bounced on her toes next to Sofi and Nether Barr and watched the others arrive in the clearing by the cave.

  Happy little Ottar came first, bouncing and grinning. Keef crouched with his arms wide and the boy ran to him, giggling. Erik and Chogolisa came next, just as Paloma and Freydis came sprinting from up-canyon. Chogolisa picked up Sitsi and hugged her. Over Chogolisa’s shoulder she saw Freydis walk up to Ottar. Ottar hid his face in his hands, then opened them to reveal a big grin.

  The children both opened their arms, stepped forward and hugged. It was like watching two pieces of a well-carved puzzle slot together. The tears that Sitsi had been holding back burst from her eyes. Would she ever love as much as these two children loved each other? Would she ever be loved that much?

  Sitsi wiped her tears and nose as Sassa and Wulf bounded from the trees, holding hands and happy, and headed for the embracing children. She’d suspected that Sassa was pregnant before, now she knew. Her bump wasn’t the only change. Her crest of hair was a thumb’s breadth longer, the rest of her head freshly shaved. She also looked several notches tougher and more seasoned as did Wulf.

  Chogolisa headed for Paloma, who was hugging Sofi (wow, thought Sitsi). Thyri Treelegs appeared next, looking happy for once, as well as stronger and leaner, her big legs thrumming with muscle. In another world she might have made good Owsla. She spotted Keef and skipped over to hug him.

  Then came Yoki Choppa, half a smile on even his face.

  There was a gap then Finn the Deep appeared, attempting a cool saunter and trying to look everywhere other than at Paloma, while glancing at Paloma every other heartbeat. Sitsi went to give him a hug. He looked like he needed one.

  “The adventures we’ve had!” he said. He looked markedly fitter, too–broader of shoulder, trimmer of waist and clearer of eye. The Wootah were toughening up.

  “I have made much mead!” said Keef, striding up.

  “But it’s not even lunchtime yet,” said Sitsi.

  “There is much to tell,” explained Keef. “We will drink while we prepare food, drink while we eat and tell our tales, then drink and talk some more! You can begin with the tale of how I rescued Paloma from the giant. I will help you with the details.”

  He was looking around as he spoke. Sitsi was, too.

  “Where’s Bodil Gooseface?” asked Freydis.

  Sitsi watched as everyone avoided looking at Keef, apart from Paloma, who was looking from Sitsi to Keef and grinning naughtily. That woman!

  “She’s fine,” said Wulf. “She’s happy and well.”

  “But?” said Paloma.

  “Well.” Wulf turned to Keef. “We met Olaf Worldfinder.”

  “Did you tell him he’s got the same name as the bloke who founded Hardwork?” Keef asked.

  “It’s the same guy,” said Finn.

  “The Olaf Worldfinder?” Keef raised an eyebrow.

  “Yep.” Wulf nodded.

  “Weird,” said Keef, as if that was that and he didn’t need to know any more.

  This was one of the reasons Sitsi loved Keef. Some people might feign nonchalance at hearing that the man who’d founded their tribe a hundred years before was still alive. Keef was genuinely unfazed.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later,” said Wulf, smiling. “We met him shortly after we last saw you, maybe twenty days ago. He’d got a strong, safe homestead high up above the desert. There’s a lot of game there and it’s untouched by the monsters and disasters.�
��

  “And?” Keef asked. Sitsi could guess what was coming. She tried not to smile.

  “And Bodil decided, for the sake of her baby, to stay there.”

  “With Olaf Worldfinder.”

  “Yup.”

  “Bodil and her baby will live with Olaf Worldfinder,” Keef confirmed.”

  “You’ve got it,” said Wulf. “He will raise the child as his own.”

  Keef turned to Finn, raising the eyebrow above his missing eye. Finn had the good grace to turn dark red and look at his feet.

  Then Keef turned to Sitsi.

  “Sitsi Kestrel,” he said. “Would you mind coming with me to fetch the mead?”

  “Before you go,” said Wulf, “Sofi discovered what we need to defeat the force at The Meadows.”

  Looking Sitsi in the eye, Keef said: “Stories are better with mead. I can wait.”

  “Me, too,” said Sitsi.

  They jogged out of the clearing before anybody else could say anything.

  Thirty paces up the path, hidden by trees, they stopped.

  “This will come as a surprise,” Keef said sombrely, “because I’m sure you think I am good at everything. But I’m not very good at this sort of thing. So.” Keef looked to one side, then back at her. “Bodil’s baby is not mine.”

  “I know. Everyone knows. Why didn’t you make Finn take responsibility?”

  “He’d have been a shit father.”

  “And you think you’d have been a better one?”

  “I don’t think, I know.”

  “Especially if you and Bodil had been a couple.”

  “Two united parents are good for a kid. I wish I’d known my dad.”

  “So you’ve supressed your love for me for the sake of an unborn baby who isn’t yours?”

  “What makes you think I love you?”

  Sitsi smiled. “I don’t think, Keef the Berserker, I know.”

  She leapt onto Keef, wrapped her legs around his waist, grabbed his head with both hands and clamped her mouth onto his.

  Chapter 6

  Great Worm

  Sofi Tornado and Paloma Pronghorn strode behind Nether Barr up into Wormsland the following morning. Freydis followed next to Paloma, with the rest of the group behind. Reunited, Sofi felt renewed vigour in the group, a bolstered sense of purpose. Having half of the remaining Owsla back was part of it, for sure–Paloma’s speed and Sitsi’s shooting would be a blessing when they were next attacked–but she couldn’t deny that she was pleased to see funny Keef and precocious Freydis again. It was particularly interesting to see how close Paloma had become to the girl. Sofi wouldn’t have picked that one.

  “Tell me more about Chief Tarker,” she asked Paloma.

  “She’s tall, cruel, and pragmatic. With a face like a prairie dog.”

  “And you thought it was a good idea to pick a fight with the tribe we have to negotiate with.”

  “She was tormenting a squatch.”

  “Which tried to kill you when you freed it, so she had reason to torment it.”

  “They were enjoying it too much.”

  “Do you remember what we used to do?”

  Paloma sighed. “Yeah, but we’re all lovey-dovey now, aren’t we? You’d have rescued the squatch, too.”

  She wouldn’t have done. “Tell me more about Tarker,” she said.

  “I think she’s rational enough to talk to us. Her men wanted to fight me, but she saw that I was enhanced and saved them from a beating. When she hears what we want and why, I think she’ll give it to us.”

  “Good.” Sofi wouldn’t mind killing Tarker and any number of her people to get what she needed, but she didn’t want to risk the others.

  “And just so I’m straight,” Paloma asked, “we want a dead baby in a coffin?”

  “More a child than a baby, I think.”

  “And you saw this after taking a huge dose of a horrible drug and hallucinating?” Paloma sounded sceptical.

  “It’s called a vision quest. I saw two men raid the Warlock Queen’s tomb and steal her young son’s coffin. They planned to take it to Wormsland. There was an earthquake. One man died, the other fled with the box on his shoulder. He was pursued by the Warlock Queen but she was too late to stop him.”

  “So we take this kid’s body back to The Meadows, the queen will stop freaking out and we can go home?”

  “That is the idea.”

  “And when you saw all this you were an eagle?” Paloma grinned.

  “Yes.”

  “Right.”

  “How did you become an eagle?” asked Freydis. Sofi had forgotten she was tagging along and listening. The child walked freakishly quietly, much more so than before.

  “It’s really easy,” said Paloma. “Have you never tried it? Just stick your nose out and flap your arms.”

  Freydis did so and laughed. Paloma laughed along. Sofi didn’t.

  Paloma was enjoying this far too much. She was actually mocking her captain. Four moons ago Sofi would have beaten the crap out of her to remind her of the pecking order. Now? Now she was tempted to think fuck it, she’s my friend and friends mock each other. If you can’t take being mocked, you’ll never have friends.

  And she wanted friends.

  She stopped. She really did. For the first time in her life she actually wanted friends. She even wanted the child’s approval.

  “Are you all right?” asked Paloma.

  “Fine. Thought I saw something on the ground.”

  The track evened out then descended through a wide, cliff-sided red rock canyon. Topping the cliffs on both sides were huge slabs of rock, standing on their ends as if arranged by giants to watch people passing below. Hidden high up in the shadowed lee of one of the slabs Sofi could hear two people watching them and talking in a language she didn’t understand.

  Sitsi skipped up to join them. “There’s a man and a woman crouching in the shadow of the triangular chunk of rock to the east,” she said without looking up.

  “Does the woman look like a prairie dog?” asked Paloma.

  “A bit.” Sitsi nodded

  “That’s the chief, Sofi Tornado!” said Freydis, “the one who Paloma Pronghorn scared away when Sitsi Kestel had to save her from the squatch!”

  “Thanks, Freydis.” Paloma gave the girl a gentle whop to the head.

  The path rose out of the monumentally sided valley and into a red, sparely vegetated desert. Several more great slabs of rock soared out of the parched land like the weather-chapped fins of gigantic sea beasts. Sofi remembered Beaver Man saying that the Badlands had once been covered by oceans and showing them a fossilised turtle shell. Perhaps these fins of rock had once belonged to sea monsters? Relatively, it wasn’t an outlandish idea.

  As they walked, half a dozen people shadowed them to the west, making no effort no hide, nor to approach.

  Near the middle of the day the Wootah and Calnians came to two red rock towers. One was a slender pyramid with a huge boulder balanced on top, the other stout and phallic even to Sofi’s eyes.

  “How the Tor’s hairy nuts did that boulder get up there?” asked Wulf.

  “It could be one of Tor’s balls,” suggested Sassa, “the hair sheared off by wind and rain through the eons.”

  “You’re right. Nice to see a bollock making a stand for itself for once. I’m getting a bit bored of rocks that look like cocks.”

  “You wouldn’t think that, the amount you go on about them,” smiled Sassa.

  “I only point out the good ones–like that one.” He pointed at the stout tower.

  “It’s that kind of thoughtful discernment that makes me love you.”

  Sofi might have been changing–might have been becoming softer–but she was certain she would never get used to the Wootah’s capacity for talking shit. She held up a hand for silence.

  Waiting for them below what Sofi now, annoyingly, thought of as the god’s bollock, were a couple of dozen dark-skinned men and women. The men wore breechcloths, t
he women breechcloths and jerkins. All were armed with bows or spears.

  A woman strode out to meet them. She was tall and lissom, with bulging cheeks as Paloma had described.

  “Stay here everyone,” said Sofi, choosing to forget for a moment that it was meant to be a joint captaincy. This was a time to look commanding.

  “Chief Tarker,” she said.

  “And you are?” The woman stopped five paces distant.

  “I’m Sofi Tornado of Calnia. We are Calnians and Wootah, from east of the Shining Mountains. You’ve met Paloma Pronghorn.” She looked back at Paloma, who waved. So much for looking commanding.

  “I’ve heard of Calnians. You’re an aggressive tribe who’ve caused much pain to many people. I take it the pale ones with dyed hair are the Wootah?”

  “They are the Wootah. Their hair is not dyed. Their ancestors come from the far side of the Great Salt Sea.”

  “I see.” Tarker didn’t look impressed. “Why have you invaded my territory?”

  “Is Wormsland your territory?” Sofi knew that Tarker’s tribe had taken the land from the Popeye tribe a year before.

  “Yes.” Chief Tarker held her gaze.

  “We’re not invading.” Sofi wasn’t going to push the who-owns-the-territory point, unless she needed to. “We’re passing through. We are on a quest. You’ve probably been troubled by monsters and big weather recently.”

  Tarker’s face hardened. “We’ve lost more than you can imagine.”

  Sofi nodded. She could imagine a lot but, again, it wasn’t a useful fight to pick. “We are heading west to put an end to the monsters and the freak weather.”

  “How?”

  “We need something you have. The coffin of a boy.”

  Tarker raised her eyebrows. “What will you give me for it?”

  “You get to keep your life.”

  Tarker’s men and women lowered their spears and took a step forward. Sofi held up a hand for the Wootah and Calnians to stay put.

  “Are you threatening me?” asked Tarker.

  “The coffin contains the child of the Warlock Queen. She will continue killing until her child is returned to her, or until there are no people left to kill.”

 

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