Though the creature was tall, much of its length belonged to its torso. Its legs were squat, its knees were low, and its arms trailed down too far to be of human proportion. One Ugly noted the creature’s boots, then searched about quickly. “Kelley!” he said. “Kelley’s gone!”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Barkus. “We still number eighteen.”
Looks were exchanged, but no one spoke up. They feared the world Barkus now represented.
They made their way to where they’d left the horses at the base of the hill. They were still there, waiting patiently. The horses had been conditioned to not show fear for their safety, and would not flinch even at gunfire, but when the creature approached, the horses cried out and skittered away. The creature stopped and turned its head toward the north. It stood perfectly still, devoid of any nervous gestures. The strange demon did not seem interested in mounting Kelley’s horse.
While the others mounted, Wallach walked about with his eyes on the ground, face screwing up with frustration. Finally he turned to Barkus and said, “These tracks were just a few hours old before. Now they look to be over a day old!” He paused. “This is no good. We were in there for too long. Barkus-”
“We don’t need those tracks anymore,” said Barkus. “We have something much better.”
As if on cue, the creature bent forward and loped away from them. Its long arms touched the ground as it ran.
“Follow him,” said Barkus, “and don’t worry about being in a rush. This kill is guaranteed.”
They rode slowly through the night while the strange creature bobbed awkwardly ahead of them, sniffing the air, following invisible tracks that hung in the air. Some of the Ugly began to feel immortal. Some of them felt like small players in a game that overshadowed their former lives.
Chapter Twenty-One
An Island in the Sea of Tranquility
The Ugly towered over Wodan. “You touch me, mustard nuts?” said the Ugly, gripping his knife. “You want yer dome caved in, spit-lick?”
Wodan shook, heart thundering. His mind ran in senseless circles. He had no idea how they’d found him, but he knew that he and his friends were completely unprepared. He was alone and his guns were laid neatly against the far wall. He worked his mouth lamely, unable to speak.
“Sorry I bumped into you, faggot,” the Ugly said with false kindness. He patted Wodan on the head, said, “Guess I thought you were a girl.”
The Ugly pushed him and walked towards the bar. Wodan caught his footing. He looked around wildly. Several Ugly approached the bar in a staggered group. Many passed Wodan without noticing him, and one clapped his arm about the Ugly that had threatened him.
They’re different Ugly, Wodan thought, even as panic breaths grinded in his lungs. They’re a different branch just stopping in for a drink. They don’t know us!
While Wodan swallowed a wave of nausea and laughed with relief, Jarl continued to drop nuggets of senses-shattering truth about how the world really worked, completely oblivious to their narrow brush with death. Wodan propped the man up and they made their way to the primitives.
Wodan’s friends were loudly singing a song about a father who went up to a red world to die. Mugs and pitchers littered the table, leaping every time the primitives banged the table with their fists. The dwarf’s slave boy sat on Rachek’s knee, smiling and laughing as Brad tapped his shoulder to keep the beat of the song. Jarl miraculously regained the use of his legs and joined the song with arms spread wide.
“Wait!” said Brad. “Shut up everybody! Look - it’s Woooah-dan! Our hero!”
A dozen or more primitives tackled Wodan with hugs; he was overcome with joy even as he could barely breathe. Brad put him in a friendly headlock. “You guys!” Wodan shouted. “Hey, you guys aren’t going to believe what I just got out of! There were these Ugly in here-”
“What!” said Brad. His face turned red and a giant vein throbbed in his forehead.
“Don’t worry, it’s a different group, but they’re over there-”
“Where!” said Brad, pushing Wodan and everyone else out of his way. He stalked onto the dance floor, shouted, “What in all damned hell! I’m gonna kill! I’m gonna KILL!”
“Brad, wait!” said Wodan. He chased after him. “Wait! Don’t!”
Brad disappeared among a cluster of dancers. Rachek grabbed Wodan’s arm, said, “What’s happening? What’s Brad doing?”
“Something bad!” Wodan shouted back to her. “We gotta stop him!”
Wodan pushed through the dancers, excusing himself. When he broke through, he saw a group of Ugly leaning against the bar. They were laughing. He saw Brad striding up to them. The Ugly that had pushed Wodan looked at him, smiling with condescension. Brad raised his fist, his massive arm flexing obscenely.
Brad’s fist flew like a rocket exploding, shattering face and teeth and crumpling the Ugly’s body like a soggy accordion. Then things really got bad.
* * *
As seen in the pulp leaflet known as the Sunport News:
UNBELIEVABLE BRAWL AT THE ANIMALS PART PUB!!!!!
The foundations of the world got ROCKED last night when a gang of outland scags locked arms with the Ugly! The writer was there himself and witnessed the brawl first-handed! It began when a group of Ugly gentlemen were discussing in a private conversation over a few drinks! Then a big brawny primitive, no doubt unused to civil law and order and the civil rule of law, went out of control and savagely beat the piss out of one Ugly! The Ugly went out of control like a hornets nest even as a bunch of other primitives climbed all over their out of control friend in an vain attempt to get him under control! Knifes got pulled and it seemed like someone was going to get stuck, someone was like “look out!!!” and they started throwing the chairs! Then the brawny primitive flew into a rage a whirlwind of destruction!!!!! I got under a damn table!!!!!!!!
Then the bouncers jumped in, then every mercenary in the place jumped in, then anyone who ever just wanted to hit someone joined in! Craziest thing I saw was one little outlander get throwed and hit a table, I swear I thought it killed him! Before anyone knew what was going on the primitive peoples just got out of the place, in the end it was just the Ugly and the bouncers yelling and stuff, threats were made, guns got took out but not fired a shot, I hope the Ugly don’t firebomb the place because I want to go back again, five stars to this bar and restaurant.
* * *
Wodan and the others ran like hell through the darkened, empty streets. The shouting in the bar died out behind them as the slapping sound of their feet echoed along the stony avenue.
“Stop here,” said Wodan. “Let’s wait for Ag and Rachek.”
They stopped and leaned against the walls, panting and rubbing their wounds. Brad walked in a circle, laughing and hitting the air. Wodan rubbed his back and smiled at him.
“Those bitch-pups!” said Brad. “We rolled ’em over! We showed ’em!”
“Yeah!” said Wodan. “I have to admit that was pretty cool - but keep quiet, Brad!”
“You okay, li’l buddy?” said Brad. “Man, when I saw you hit that table, I thought your neck was broke for sure!”
“I’ve been better, but I’m okay. Wait, I hear something!”
They heard horse hooves clattering behind them. Wodan ran, peeked around the corner, and saw Agmar and Rachek pulling four heavy-laden horses. The other primitives ran to help.
“Agmar!” said Wodan. “Where the hell do we go now?”
“Hell if I know!” said Agmar, laughing and frowning. “We can’t go back to the Part. Last I saw, the Ugly were in a yelling match with Ferge. Lucky for us, he already had our horses packed and ready to go.”
“Where are the other horses?”
“You think this stuff was free?” said Agmar. “Damn, after what Brad pulled, we’re lucky we’re not all in jail. Ferge really put his ass on the line for us. We’re lucky to even get this, boy!”
“Alright,” said Wodan. “Let’s just move and..
.”
“And what?” said Agmar, narrowing his eyes.
“And move some more,” said Wodan.
The two stared at one another. The tension mounted, then broke suddenly as Filius Bilch’s slave boy approached. He carried a large tube stuffed to the brim with brown, aged papers.
“You need a ship, eh?” said the boy. “I got you one. Just take me with you.”
“More trouble!” said Agmar. “Boy, get back to Filius before you get us killed for kidnapping.”
“I’m not a little boy, old man. I’m older than I look! The little master ain’t gonna bargain with you now that you’ve pissed off the Ugly. You need out of here, and I’m the answer to all your problems. So you just shut-”
“Okay,” said Wodan, “we’re interested. But why are you interested?”
“They told me about you,” he said. “They call you a hero. You used to be a slave, but you escaped. Well, I wear a collar, and I’m goddamned sick of it. I want out. I wanna go with you.”
Wodan noted that the boy had a glare permanently set into his youthful features. He often tugged at his collar, a nervous and angry tick. He had taken orders his whole life, and resented it.
“My name’s Maxil,” he said, smiling wickedly, “and I can captain a ship better than anyone else Filthius Bitch owns.”
“Okay,” said Wodan, “but you can’t come back if you go with us. It’s a one-way trip. And we need a crew, too...”
“I got nothin’ here,” said Maxil. “And what crew? These guys here just going to nap the whole trip?”
“You can use us?” said Wodan. “Can you just tell us what... uh, buttons and levers we have to push to make the ship go?”
Maxil laughed, said, “Yeah, I can do all that. Only the captain needs to have any brains. I just need a bunch of monkeys who can follow orders.”
“Great, let’s go!” said Wodan. “I just hope you have a plan on how to get this ship.”
“Leave it to me,” said Maxil.
The boy led the troop of thirty-odd primitives down twisting lanes far from the main avenues. In the distance Wodan saw the tall spires of an ancient cathedral bearing purple flags marked by scarred skulls, a branch of the Church of the Ugly. Wodan wondered just how widespread the influence of the life-hating cult had spread across the wasteland.
They reached the docks. Tall-masted ships with folded sails bobbed sleepily, and many guards smoked and dozed in quiet groups.
“Damn, these things look complicated,” Wodan said to Agmar.
“Gonna get real complicated when Bilch realizes what’s happening,” said Agmar. “He was really keen on owning a soul. You should have seen him try to hide his excitement.”
“He won’t find out what’s happening before it’s too late,” said Wodan.
“To be honest, he probably will,” said Maxil. “Bilch is wicked smart. Once he realizes I’m gone and you’re gone, he’ll put it together. So we gotta move fast.”
“What will he do?” said Wodan.
“Probably spank me,” said Maxil.
“Oh,” said Wodan.
“And kill you after he tortures you.”
“Gu-u-uh,” said Agmar.
Maxil dashed ahead and snapped his fingers at a group of guards. “Get up, crapheads,” he said. “Master wants Hero fitted. Get these horses on there.”
Several guards with shotguns and yellow armbands rose sulkily. “What fer?” said one.
The primitives stopped, their bodies tense, ready to run.
“Whud fu-ur,” said Maxil, imitating the man. “How should I know? He’s drunk as hell and wants me to take these tribals out for a tour, I guess. What does it matter? What do you care?”
Some guards moved to one of the ships while others took the horses from Wodan and his friends. Rachek paced nervously and pretended all was normal. Brad puked noisily, and one guard bounded away to avoid the splash.
Wodan looked at the ship and his heart sank. He had been impressed by the other ships, complex contraptions of wood, rope, and steel - but it seemed as if the guards were loading the horses onto a large mound of driftwood garbage that was already in the process of sinking.
“That’s the Hero of Old,” said Maxil, with mock pride. “Oldest and luckiest ship in Sunport.”
“Lucky it ain’t sunk yet,” said Brad. “Why can’t we take that other thing instead?”
He pointed to a strange, flat ship, made of metal and rimmed with cannons and a long chimney.
“That’s one of Bilch’s steamer ironclads, a battleship,” said Maxil. “He’d come after us for sure if we took that, or any of his better vessels. I’m just hoping he’ll write off the Hero and not worry about missing me or these old maps I stole.”
“Not miss you?” said Agmar. “Because you’re not a good captain?”
“I’m his best, old man,” said Maxil. “I’ve spent most of my life sailing. I just give him a lot of lip, is all, and he hates that. But...” Maxil twitched and scratched at his collar. “He is one mean prick, and after that mess at the Part he won’t be in the mood for excuses. Let’s just hurry.”
They boarded the ship while the guards finished preparations. The boards creaked under them. Vultures flew about the mast, and a sail like dirty underwear unfurled pathetically. The four horses screamed in the hold down below. Brad puked over the side.
“Let’s hit it,” said Wodan.
“On to high adventure, bitches!” screamed Maxil.
* * *
After a tense night of puking and following Maxil’s every command, the primitives woke the next day to find themselves in a strange and wonderful situation: They were free. The sky was sharp and blue with tall white clouds built one on top of another, and they floated in a calm, endless ocean where no one could find them. The horrors of the wasteland fell far, far behind them.
Ferge had given them plenty of food. They passed the days eating and joking and playing games and cleaning the ancient, rickety ship. It rained on the sea as it rarely did in the wasteland, but only small storms that never troubled their captain. They often watched the play of lightning on shadowy clouds hanging in the distance.
Alone on the open sea, it was hard to imagine that the rest of the world was not at peace. There were never any serious arguments among the crew. Wodan saw some tense negotiations for private sleeping areas, but these were easily worked out with a little thought and courtesy. What had gone wrong in the rest of the world? Humans had had so long to figure things out; they even had a common foe that they could unite behind. Why was the earth not yet a paradise?
Wodan preferred to sleep on the deck, directly under the stars, amongst a few others who enjoyed the same. He realized he had never appreciated the sight of them before.
We have so much left to do, he often thought. Even if we made the world a peaceful place, there are still so many challenges and so many mysteries to appreciate.
Many times he woke in the middle of the night and saw Agmar sitting by the side of the ship, gazing into the distance with his strange book in his lap. Wodan was struck by how old the man appeared when he wasn’t arguing or butting heads with someone. In the light of the lamp that sometimes burned in the cabin, Agmar looked like an ancient prophet who’d seen his god in the throes of senility. Agmar was empty, sucked dry by the world, and then finally plucked free and sent on some final trip into a new world that he could not possibly imagine.
* * *
One morning Wodan woke and saw Brad and Rachek fishing off the side of the ship. He could smell coffee from the little cabin and hear people stirring inside. He rose from his hay mat and donned his blanket like a hooded cape. When he went to get his coffee, he was embarrassed because his friends deferred to him and would not let him prepare his own coffee.
He made his way to the fore of the deck. He saw Maxil sitting and staring ahead, reading the stars before they disappeared in the waking light.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” said Maxil, not taking
his eyes from the stars. “Your people, your homeland… are you absolutely sure they won’t mind that I’m runaway goods?”
“That’s not even an issue. You’ll be a person, same as any other. You work however you can, or you learn whatever you can.”
Maxil sighed, reluctant to believe that things could work out that easily. “And if someone came looking for me? Would your people give me back to keep the peace?”
“Nobody will find us.”
“If they did?”
“My people wouldn’t give you back. You’d be one of us. Besides, you should see the firepower we have. Those thugs in the desert with their rusty pellet-guns and moth-eaten leather vests are nothing compared to our Guardians. Our forces are disciplined, healthy, and sane. They could incinerate Sunport from a mile away.”
[Demonworld #1] Demonworld Page 34