by Angus Watson
“I am not the one for you.”
There you go.
“Oh.”
“I wish I was. It would have made logistical sense to hook up with you, and seeing the other smug couples cuddling and giggling makes me want to gouge my eyes out and stuff them in my ears.”
“Me, too.” He picked up a stone and threw it across the river. Two ducks shot out of the reeds, quacking angrily. “And tear my nose off and ram it up my arse so I can’t smell their contentment. There’s no chance that we—”
“No. You’re a good-looking chap, Finn. You’re clever and you’re kind. You’re funny and you’re brave. A lot of women will find you attractive.”
“But not you.”
“I do think you’re attractive, Finn. If you were my age I’d be all over you like a pox at plague time. But you are not my age.”
“Erik must be fifteen years older than Chogolisa.”
“She likes older men. It’s not unusual. I’m the same. Or at least I’m not attracted to younger men.”
“I see.”
“When this is done, I’ve no idea where we’ll go. Maybe back to Calnia to install Calnian as emperor. Maybe we’ll go to the Badlands now that Rappa Hoga is in charge. Point is, we’ll go somewhere where there will be a lot of women your age. And you, my conquering hero, will have to beat them away with a shitty stick.”
“You think?”
“I know. Finn the Deep, the exotic adventurer from across the Great Salt Sea. A lot of women will fall for you.”
“So why hasn’t Thyri?” Why haven’t you? he thought.
“Not all women, Finn, just a lot of them. Some won’t because some women like other women. Some women like clever men–warlock types. Some are more into strong but stupid–your warrior.”
“I don’t think all warriors are stupid.”
“And not all warlocks are clever. It’s a generalisation. Point is, people like different types of people. You’re not my type and you’re not Thyri’s. But you are definitely a lot of women’s type.”
They watched a red-tailed hawk fly downriver. It spotted them, flicked its wings and headed for the hills to the east.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Finn. It was pretty much what Moolba had told him. Was it that outlandish to believe that the woman would be attracted to an exotic swordsman who’d recently been on a quest to save the world?
Who’d left his baby behind?
“I don’t deserve anyone.”
He could feel Paloma looking at him but he didn’t turn. “Because you’re the sort of utter shit who abandoned his unborn baby?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve all done shitty things, Finn. I’ve killed hundreds of people and I don’t hate myself. Both Bodil and that kid will be happier with Olaf.”
“You think Olaf will be a better dad than me?”
“No. He’s a dick and you’re a decent guy, or at least you have the potential to be a decent guy. But you don’t love Bodil and he probably does in his weird twatty way, and the child will be safer there than it would be with you. Arguably, your desire to be important to your child is selfish. Sure, it could do with a father, but that doesn’t have to be you. And, let’s admit it, you’ll get to adventure around without a tiny child in tow. It is the best thing for everyone.”
“But it’s the wrong thing.”
“Because your Aunt Gunnhild wouldn’t have liked it?”
“Well, yes.”
“Forget that. You have enough things to be unhappy about without getting wrapped up in somebody else’s morality.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. Don’t invent worries, forgive yourself for things you can’t change and enjoy yourself. That’s the Paloma way and it’s the best way.” She leapt to her feet and held out a hand. “Come on.”
“When I beat these girls away with a shitty stick,” asked Finn as they walked beside the rolling moonlit river, “what’s the best kind of shit?”
“Badger.”
“Badger?”
“It’s the smelliest.”
“Not skunk?”
“Not actually as smelly. But it will probably still keep your suitors at bay. Basic rule of thumb for shitty sticks is to use carnivore crap, never herbivore.”
“So bighorn shit might actually attract women.”
“It might, Finn. It just might.”
They met Keef and Sitsi coming the other way. Sitsi raised an eyebrow.
“What the Hel are you two doing together looking so pleased with yourselves?” Keef demanded.
“We’re good friends now,” said Finn.
When they were past, Paloma punched his arm: “If we are going to be friends, you’ll have to stop saying lame things like we’re good friends now.
“I know. I was joking,” said Finn, “because we’re actually best friends.”
Paloma punched his arm again, quite a bit harder.
Finn smiled.
Chapter 4
Valley of Fire
The sky was lightening when they stopped again. Finn guessed that the confluence with the Red River was ahead and they’d probably have to walk from here. Shame, he thought. His arse was so itchy from the constant damp that it actually hurt, but bobbing along with a painful bum was better than walking across a land that might turn into murderous monsters any moment.
Warriors and warlocks busied about, preparing food bags and water skins. Several were coiling ropes and slinging them over shoulders. Finn hoped they weren’t going to have to climb anything with ropes. How steep was The Pyramid?
He saw one of the warriors headed downstream with a squirrel in one hand. Where were they getting all the squirrels? he wondered, following the man. He didn’t have anything else to do. Was this the same squirrel they’d used to test the water upstream? If so, it was a very unlucky animal.
The warrior was a muscular man, bigger than Wulf. Finn had noticed him before because he’d been staring sourly at the Calnians and Wootah.
The sky was tinged pink at the eastern edge when the warrior reached a stretch of bank above the confluence of the Virgin and Red Rivers.
Finn listened out for the squirrel’s thoughts, found them, and immediately wished he hadn’t. It was the same squirrel that they’d thrown in the river upstream. It was not happy.
Bite him! Bite him! Finn told the squirrel, but it was too angry to listen.
The squirrel’s rage turned to hatred as the warrior tossed it high and far. Hatred turned to terror as it fell, limbs waggling, towards the lighter water of the Red River.
The moment it touched the river’s surface it burst in a cloud of fizzing steam. There was a flash of agony then its thoughts were gone.
The large man laughed.
“You think that was funny, do you?” said Finn, marching up the slope towards him, not sure what he was going to do.
“Yeah. I do,” he said, looking down at Finn. His eyes were deep-set because his eyebrows were muscular. His voice was muscular.
He reminded Finn of Garth. Not looks-wise, but in the way he regarded Finn with amused contempt.
“You killed an animal when you could have chucked in a cactus pad and seen all you needed to see.”
“So what?”
“So you’re a twat.” Finn’s ears were hot. He knew he was being very stupid, but he was very angry. That squirrel had suffered.
The huge man swung a punch.
Finn ducked and danced to one side. He jabbed a fist into ribs and pulled Foe Slicer free of its scabbard as he passed, then leapt and smacked the flat of his blade across the man’s arse cheeks with all his might.
The warrior stumbled away, one hand on his ribs, one on his arse. He looked at Finn, confusion knitting his meaty brow.
Finn slipped Foe Slicer back into its scabbard. “We’re on the same side,” he said, “we should be struggling together… and not as we were just doing. I mean fighting the Warlock Queen and her monsters together.”
“You cal
led me a twat.”
“And you took a life when you didn’t need to. There’s been far too much of that sort of thing and there’s going to be more. We don’t need to add to it.”
The big man looked unconvinced.
“Tell you what,” said Finn, “I won’t call you a twat again if you don’t throw any more squirrels into poisonous rivers. Deal?”
The large warrior looked westwards, then back at Finn. He was smiling. “Yeah. Why not? Deal. Come on, we’ve got to get back. We’ll be heading off soon.”
“But the sun will be up in a couple of heartbeats.”
“I know. It’s going to be a hot one, too. But I’m just a follower.”
“Me, too.”
“What’s your name?”
“Zeg. Yours?”
“Finn.”
“Pleased to meet you, Finn. Tell me about the bum-slapper you’ve got there.”
“It’s called Foe Slicer.” Finn drew the sword and proffered it to Zeg, pommel first. “Have a hold.”
Zeg rejoined the warriors and Finn went back to his lot.
“What are you grinning about?” asked Erik.
“Nothing,” said Finn.
They headed off westwards up slickrock. They hadn’t been going long when the sun rose over the horizon behind them.
“Tor’s helmet!” said Finn to nobody in particular when he felt its heat. “It’s like being pounced on by a burning dagger-tooth.”
“Nicely put.”
Finn jumped. Thyri Treelegs had sneaked up behind him. There was a gap behind her to where the children were walking up the stone slope with Erik, Chogolisa, Sitsi and Keef.
“Have you thought of becoming a storyteller when this is over?” she asked, falling into stride alongside him. “You could walk from place to place making up things to say.”
“A sort of warrior-cum-storyteller?”
“Just a storyteller.”
“Thanks.”
She punched his arm and grinned. “I’m joking! Your dad would miss you if you went off alone.”
“Would you?” he dared.
She walked on for four very long heartbeats, then said, “Yes, I would.”
“Thyri,” he said. “I don’t know what Sofi and Wulf have got planned for this attack on The Pyramid, but I know we’ll both be involved. We might die. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“You’re going to tell me that you love me? Well, sorry, Finn, but I was never interested. And I don’t think you do love me, I think—”
“It wasn’t that,” he said. “I was a kid when I thought I loved you. I’ve… changed. I wanted to tell you that Garth Anvilchin wasn’t killed by Scraylings.”
“What?”
“He tried to kill me when the tornado hit us, then again by the Water Mother.”
“Why?”
“He said it was because I wasn’t as clever as I thought I was.”
“He was right.”
“I know.” Finn noticed a long-legged lizard on a rock, watching them walk by.
“If he’d tried to kill you,” said Thyri, “you’d be dead. He was ten times the man you’ll ever be.”
“At the tornado he punched me and knocked me out. I would have died if I hadn’t fallen into a trench.”
“You just fell into the trench. Garth was nowhere near you.”
“Do you remember that day? I was carrying Freydis. I was falling behind and Anvilchin came back to get her. That’s when he did it.”
“I didn’t see. I was busy rescuing Sassa and watching my brother die.”
“He hit me. He meant for me to die.”
“And at the Water Mother?”
“He came at me with his axes. I pushed him off the cliff.”
“Bollocks.”
“He goaded me. He told me how you shagged. He said you begged him to do disgusting things to you.”
“That’s not true! He didn’t say that. He couldn’t have done because we never… You wouldn’t have beaten him. You couldn’t have done.”
“You’d taught me how to block. That was all I needed. I blocked two blows, shoved him and over he went.”
They walked on in silence, Thyri shaking her head. Finn remembered the sick feeling in his stomach when Garth had lifted him over his head and walked to the top of the cliff. He remembered Sassa’s arrow, sticking out of Garth’s mouth. Erik wiggling the arrow to pull it out of Garth’s face. He remembered himself and his father rolling the heavy body over the cliff.
“Tell me what really happened, Finn,” said Thyri. She was crying. “What can it matter now?”
“I pushed him off.”
“Please, Finn, tell me the truth. I loved him. I still do and I always will. What happened? I deserve to know, especially if we’re all about to die.”
Finn sighed. He looked around. Nobody was in earshot. Sofi Tornado could probably hear him, of course, but she was as likely to sprout a second head as she was to gossip. And she probably knew anyway.
“Okay. Garth did try to kill me, during the tornado that took Chnob, and again at the Water Mother.”
“The truth!”
“At the Water Mother, he lifted me above his head. He was going to throw me off the cliff. I was terrified. Sassa came. She had to choose between shooting him or letting him throw me off the cliff. He really was going to do it. She told him not to, again and again, and didn’t shoot until he was halfway through hurling me.”
“She chose your life over his?”
“I don’t think it was an easy decision, I really don’t. I think that’s why she waited until the very last moment. It made more sense to keep Garth. He was far the better fighter and it was before we knew I could control animals a bit. But I guess she chose the would-be murderer over his victim. Maybe you’d have done the same.”
“Sassa killed him,” she said.
“Garth was holding me over his head. He was about to throw me off the cliff. She didn’t have a choice.”
“A choice is exactly what she did have.”
Thyri stalked off ahead.
Finn was relieved. He hadn’t enjoyed holding that secret. Thyri’s anger wouldn’t last. It was clear that Garth had been in the wrong and Finn had been a victim. Anyone could see that.
He chuckled to himself. Not long ago, his next leap of logic would have had Thyri leaping into his arms. He didn’t expect that any more, and, he realised with mild surprise, he really didn’t want it.
Had he manned up? No, that was a silly expression. Every woman he knew was tougher than he was, including Freydis. He’d just grown up. Better late than never.
They walked up a rocky crest. Bare red, orange and purple rock stretched all around arranged in crazy crests and tumescent domes. All was silent. The sun hammered down, cooking the rock. It felt like a kiln and it smelled like a kiln.
They followed the warlocks and warriors off the crest and down to a valley. Despite the heat, the warlocks were still in their feather jackets and the warriors in their leathers. Finn guessed they were used to it. They walked along the valley’s dry red sand floor. Walking on the sand was an arse ache, but the rock either side was a mess of fissures and craggy fins.
“Quite hard going, this sand,” said Erik.
“Maybe running will be easier?” Freydis suggested.
“It’s too hot to run,” said Finn.
“Try!” She trotted off, knees high.
Finn copied her.
Running was a bit easier, strangely enough, and soon he and the girl had closed the gap on the leading warriors and warlocks to around fifty paces.
Finn was comparing the gaits of the two groups–the warriors were bandy-legged, the warlocks dainty–when a gigantic brown and white spider exploded out of the ground in a shower of red sand, grabbed a warlock, leapt backwards and disappeared, leaving nothing but a cloud of settling sand.
It happened so fast that Finn wasn’t certain he’d seen it.
“Off the sand!” shouted Erik.
&nb
sp; Finn grabbed Freydis’s hand and pulled her towards the rock. The ground fell away ahead of them. A spider the size of a humped bear rose out of the ground. Finn froze. The creature looked at him with four small, round eyes in the centre of its head and larger oval double squashed-together eyes on the sides. It was covered in sparse, wiry brown fur, with darker bands around its legs and across its face. Its huge fangs, also furry, hung below its face not unlike a proud pair of breasts presented in a low-cut dress. As well as long legs, each ending in a small claw, it had little arms stretching around its fangs, presumably for pulling prey into its horrible maw.
Freydis hopped to one side, stringing her bow. Finn pulled Foe Slicer from its scabbard.
The spider advanced.
Freydis’s arrow zipped into its bulbous abdomen. It did a weird little dance, then hissed–hissed–and kept coming.
Finn looked into its horrible eyes and froze.
Freydis ran round him and chopped at the spider’s leg with her obsidian moon blade. The beast struck for her with its fangs, thrusting its head far enough forward for Finn to stab Foe Slicer hard, in the centre of its four eyes. The blade cracked through chitin and slid in.
Finn pulled his sword free and the beast collapsed.
“We beat it!” shouted Freydis.
“We beat that one,” said Finn.
Dozens more–hundreds maybe–had launched from the sand and were setting about the warlocks and warriors. The bear-sized spider that Finn had killed had been a small one.
The warriors fought solidly. Legs wide, they swung their heavy spears like clubs. The warlocks had a lighter style, more like Sofi’s jumping and spinning. Both were effective and many spiders were dying, but there were more and more emerging from the red sand.
Finn saw Ollia, the woman he’d talked to on the way into the Valley of the Gods. She was standing in the thick of it with a warrior, shooting arrow after arrow. A spider plunged is sharp leg through the other archer’s neck and he fell. The monster clamped its jaws around his head and dragged him underground. Ollia stared for a moment, then skipped away backwards, shooting arrows into the giant arachnids.
“Wooooo-tah!” Keef the Berserker shouted, as he, Wulf, Sofi, Chogolisa and Thyri ran past Finn towards the fight, weapons raised, kicking up red dust.