by Tim Waggoner
Go as fast as you like, Richter, said a smug, slimy voice in my head. It won't do you any good.
More lightning. And the thunder which followed was closer this time.
You're mad, Talaith, I thought back. You can't afford to waste your energy like this. The Renewal Ceremony is approaching. And Dis won't be pleased if you're too weak to fulfill your part in it.
I'm touched by your concern, she thought mockingly. You'll be relieved to know that I'm not using a single iota of my own power. My loyal subjects are thoughtfully allowing me to borrow theirs.
I realized the significance of all the fires we'd seen. The Arcane weren't celebrating; they were conducting a rite to transfer mystic power to their Lady.
A series of lightning flashes this time, much closer, and the crack of thunder sounded almost immediately.
How'd you know we were coming? I thought. I doubt you've been wasting power constantly scrying for me – you don't have it to spare. Not in your present condition.
I sensed her anger at my taunt. I always conduct an augury using a mourning dove before every Descension Day to determine how things will go. This year, the bird's entrails told me that you would be passing through tonight. And so I prepared. Glee and anticipation suffused her thoughts. With the help of my people, I'm going to destroy you once and for all, Matthew Richter, and your friends along with you. What do you think of that?
Lightning crashed outside the cab, thunder cracked, rattling the windows. A driving rain began to fall. Lazlo hit the wipers.
What if I told you that I'm due to decompose in another day or so anyway? Why bother wasting magic power, even if it isn't your own, to destroy me if I'll be gone in a handful of hours?
Talaith didn't respond right away, and the rain slackened, but didn't let up entirely.
I sense you're telling the truth. And in that case letting you go would be the sensible thing. But I don't want to be sensible; I want revenge.
The rain picked up, coming down so hard now that visibility was near zero, but Lazlo didn't let up on the gas. The lightning and thunder were constant now. I wondered how close we were to the Bridge of Lost Souls. Not close enough, I feared.
Instead of destroying you, perhaps I'll try to merely incapacitate you. That way you'll get to see your friends perish, and afterward I can bring you to Woodhome and have the pleasure of watching you rot away to nothing. Yes, that sounds quite lovely.
I had one last card up my sleeve. It wasn't an ace… hell, it wasn't even a deuce, but it was all I had, so I played it.
What would you say if I reminded you about the Accord that states travelers on the Obsidian Way aren't to be interfered with?
I'd say, "What Accord?"
And then I felt Talaith's foul presence depart my mind. If I could have, I would've taken my brain out and given it a good scrubbing to get rid of the mental aftertaste of the Witch Queen's thoughts.
"Uh, guys, we have a problem."
"No shit we have a problem!" Lazlo shouted over the riotous thunder. "I can barely see two feet in front of us, and these socalled roads are rapidly turning into mud!"
I filled them in on my mental tête-à-tête with the mistress of the Arcane.
"An augury!" Lazlo said in surprise. "Those went out with evil eyes and love potions!"
"This is no time to discuss fashion trends in magic," I said. "We have to figure a way out of this!"
"We better figure fast, then." Lazlo pointed at the sky beyond the windshield. There, highlighted against black clouds, was the figure of an angel with wings of lightning. But this was a dark angel with wild raven hair, hate-filled eyes, and lips twisted in cruel laughter that boomed louder than thunder. Talaith, or at least a reasonable facsimile, getting ready to swoop down for the kill.
I looked out the windshield. Talaith's avatar had left her position in the sky and was swooping down toward us, dark glee and anticipation blazing on her face.
Talaith's avatar closed on our cab. She plucked a bolt of lightning from her wings and it shaped itself into a sword crackling with electricity. As she neared, she shrieked like a banshee experiencing labor pains, lifted the glowing yellow-white sword, and, as she reached the cab, swung.
But Lazlo was ready for her. Just as she brought the sword around, he jerked the steering wheel to the left and hit the gas. A sizzling sound filled the interior of the cab and then we were spinning out of control. I grabbed Devona because I hoped my zombie body might absorb some of the impact – neither of us were wearing seatbelts because Lazlo's cab doesn't have them. He tore them out because, as he once explained to me, they "show a real lack of confidence in the driver" – and together we bounced around the back seat as Lazlo swore mightily and struggled to regain control over his machine.
But it was no good; the car tipped, bounced, and rolled five times before finally crunching to a stop. The cab – what was left of it – was resting on its hood in the middle of a rain-soaked field. I still had hold of Devona.
"You okay?" I shouted above the still rollicking storm.
"I think so. Plenty of aches, but I don't think anything's broken."
"Lazlo?"
He moaned and I thought he'd been hurt. But then he said, "My cab! What did that bitch do to my beautiful cab?"
If any of us had been human, or in Devona's case all the way human, we most likely would've been killed. As it was, it looked like we were going to survive long enough for Talaith to kill us in person.
I kicked out the safety glass of the shattered rear window, which wasn't easy since my left leg didn't work quite right anymore, and pushed Devona through the opening. I yelled for Lazlo to get out of the car, and then crawled after Devona.
Getting up wasn't easy with my latest injury, but once I was up, I could stand okay. Devona pointed to the cab's passengerside tires: they were nothing but melted globs on the rims.
So Talaith's avatar had gotten in a shot after all. I suppose the air was filled with the greasy-oily stink of burning rubber, though my dead zombie nose couldn't detect it. The rest of the cab didn't look much better than the tires.
The driver's door burst off and flew into the field as Lazlo forced his way out. The demon's a lot stronger than he appears. As soon as he got a good look at what Talaith had done to his beloved cab, he began sobbing. The vehicle's hood had been torn off, exposing its inner mouth. Numerous teeth had been broken off, the cab's long tongue lolled onto the ground, and a pool of dark liquid that might or might not have been oil was spreading beneath the vehicle. Devona hurried over to console Lazlo, and I looked to the sky, expecting to see Talaith's avatar gazing down at us and laughing with dark delight. But there was no sign of the Witch Queen, and a moment later the rain ceased and the clouds began to clear.
"What's happening?" Devona said as I walked over to join her and Lazlo next to the demon's dearly departed death-machine.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe Talaith used up the magic power she borrowed from her people and couldn't maintain her avatar any longer."
Bright white light flared into existence around us, revealing a dozen men and women carrying wooden staffs with glowing lux crystals attached to the ends. Most of them wore tunics, but three – two men and a woman – wore loose-fitting hooded robes. I didn't have to guess who was in charge.
One of the robed men, a portly fellow with a gray mustache and goatee stepped forward.
"Or maybe," he said with a sinister smile, "instead of wasting more power, our Lady sent us to retrieve you."
"That's another possibility," I said.
"You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Matt."
"How long have you been waiting to use that line?" I said.
"A few hours," Devona admitted.
"You two are a riot," Lazlo said. "Are you guys always this funny or only when you're tied to stakes and surrounded by pissed-off witches and warlocks?"
Our Glamere welcoming committee had brought us – by force, naturally – to the village of Merrowvale. They'd
hustled us into the village square and then tied us to three large wooden stakes atop a stone dais. The three robed Arcane, who I took to be the village Elders, then ordered children to begin piling firewood around Devona and Lazlo's feet. But not, I noticed, around mine.
The entire square was filled with villagers, young and old, all decked out in medieval dress. It looked like a renaissance fair, only without the funnel cakes and ATM machines labeled Queen's Treasury. Only about half of them carried magic staffs with lit lux crystals, but that didn't mean the other half were harmless. Even the smallest child here was capable of casting at least some rudi mentary spells. Both Devona and Lazlo were strong enough to break free from the ropes binding them if they wished, but they knew they couldn't hope to escape from this many Arcane, and so they simply remained where they were while the children stacked the fuel for a good old-fashioned stake-burning at their feet.
The Elders stood at the base of the dais, and I caught the portly one's eye.
"Why don't I get any wood? You people have something against the smell of burning zombies?"
"Don't answer him, Zorian," said the Elder standing to the portly man's right, a tall middle-aged woman with her graying brunette hair tied up in a bun. "He's not worth the breath it would take to speak to him."
I almost fired off a witty comeback, but I noticed something odd about the woman's face. I looked at her more closely, and it didn't take me long to figure out what was bothering me about her. I examined her fellow Elders, and then I turned my head as far as I could – given that I was tied to a stake – and gazed upon as many of the good folk of Merrowvale as I could. And when I was finished, I smiled to myself. These people had a secret, and they weren't hiding it very well. But I decided to keep that to myself for the moment.
"Hush, Gizane," said the third Elder, a tall beefy man with a neatly trimmed brown beard who looked as if he would have made a hell of a quarterback on Earth. "Let Zorian have some fun. After all, it is Descension Day." He grinned at me, a savage gleam in his eyes. He reminded me of a mean little boy who'd caught a trio of insects and couldn't wait to start tearing their legs off.
Zorian nodded to the other man. "Thank you, Ortzi." Then the warlock turned to me. "We have no intention of burning you, Mr. Richter. Our Lady wants you all for herself, and we'd be poor subjects indeed if we kept the pleasure of destroying you for ourselves."
A scattering of laughter passed through the crowd, but it was more dutiful than enthusiastic.
"She's en route now," Ortzi said. "She's coming here personally to claim you, though to be honest we're not sure whether she'll destroy you on the spot or take you back to Woodhome and save you for after the Renewal Ceremony. Me, I'm hoping for on the spot. I'd love to see the Lady in action."
"That would be a treat," Gizane admitted.
"Once her avatar forced the three of you off the road, she mentally contacted the three of us," Zorian said, "and we – along with a few of the more powerful members of our village – went out to find you and escort you back to Merrowvale. Our orders are to hold you here until Talaith arrives, Mr. Richter."
Ortzi grinned. "But she told as that as a reward for our service, we can do anything we like to your two friends. So we're going to burn them alive at the stake – while you watch, helpless to save them. Won't that be just awful?"
The children finished piling up the wood, and they stepped off the dais and returned to their parents. Ortzi's lux crystal began to glow orange and flames flickered to life around it. The warlock made no move to step forward and touch the flaming tip of his staff to the wood yet. He wanted to make this last as long as he could.
"Uh, Matt?" Lazlo said, his bulbous demon eyes transfixed by the fire atop Ortzi's staff. "If you have any brilliant ideas, now would be an excellent time to implement them."
"Don't worry," Devona said. "He'll think of something."
The simple confidence in her voice was both heart-warming and heart-breaking. I did have an idea, but if it was going to have any chance of working, I had to stall just a bit longer, to give Talaith time to get closer to Merrowvale.
"Out of curiosity," I said, "how's Talaith traveling here? Broom? Magic carpet? A pair of ruby slippers?"
The three Elders only glared at me, and someone in the crowd shouted out, "Quit talking and light the goddamned fires!"
I decided I'd better move on to something else, and quickly. "All right, forget that. But tell me this: just how close to the Bridge of Lost Souls were we when Talaith's avatar knocked us off the Obsidian Way?" When none of the Elders responded right away, I added, "Come on… you'll just make us more miserable by telling us." When they continued to hesitate, I said, "You know, if Talaith were here she'd tell me… Now there's a woman who really knows how to torment a man – and not in the good way."
"Very well," Zorian said. "You were less than a mile and a half from the Bridge."
"You might have made it, too," Gizane said, nodding toward Lazlo. "If that idiot demon was a better driver."
"Too bad ugly – or body odor – doesn't equate with driving skill," Ortzi said. "Otherwise, he'd be qualified for the Grand Prix back on Earth."
Lazlo ground his teeth, sending small sparks shooting out of the corners of his mouth. He glared at Ortzi, and from the way his muscles were bunched up, I knew my demonic friend was getting ready to burst his bonds and show the Elders what happens when someone insults his driving.
I couldn't afford to stall any longer.
"Tell me something, Gizane. Where do you get your make-up?"
Gizane drew up the hood of her robe as if to hide her face and gave her fellow Elders a sideways glance.
"I don't know what you're talking about, zombie."
"I'm not criticizing," I said. "It's nicely understated – the eye shadow, the eyeliner, the rouge, the lipstick… all very naturallooking. And you, Ortzi. Your beard is a deep, rich brown, but the color is a slightly different shade than your hair, and you've got a significant amount of gray at your temples. A man's beard usually goes gray before his hair. I suppose you imported the stuff you use to color it from Earth."
Ortiz started to cover his beard with his hand, but then he must have realized he was only drawing attention to it and lowered his hand once more – though it looked like it took an effort for him to do so.
I turned to Zorian then. "And unless my dead eyes deceive me, I see a small flesh-colored hearing aid nestled in your right ear, Zorian. Another import, I take it?
Zorian glanced at his fellow Elders, and all three of them looked nervous as hell.
"I don't understand, Matt," Devona said. "Now that you've pointed out those things about them, I can see them all, but why would Arcane bother using mundane items like that? Wouldn't they just use their magic to improve their appearance or repair their hearing?"
"I'm sure that's what Talaith would prefer. But these three aren't the only ones who prefer non-magical ways of solving problems – or just enjoying life. Take a good look at the crowd. You'll see people wearing wristwatches, talking on cell phones – the real thing, not handvoxes – texting on BlackBerrys, taking digital pictures and video of us… More than a few folks are listening to music on their iPods, and a number of the children are playing handheld video games. And if you'll look really close at that alley over there, you'll see someone sitting on the ground typing furiously on a laptop. Probably blogging about our imminent demises. All of them are trying to hide their toys, but they're doing a crappy job of it."
Now the assembled villagers were starting to look nervous too.
"I still don't get it, Matt," Devona said. "Lots of people in Nekropolis use imported Earth technology, whether in its pure form or adapted somehow by dark magic. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that these people are subjects of Talaith," I explained. "And she's not particularly fond of technology – especially not after how things turned out with the Overmind. By Talaith's edict, technology of any sort is illegal for the Arcane to possess
or use as long as they are within her Dominion. If she catches any Arcane with technology, she punishes them." I smiled at the three Elders. "Most severely."
The Elders paled.
I went on. "Talaith has a huge problem trying to enforce her edict, because pure technology is fascinating to the Arcane, almost to the point of addiction. Chemicals, medicines, and machines that can perform wonders without requiring a spellcaster to use her or her own energy to power them? What could be more wondrous? Merrowvale is one of the outlying villages in Glamere, so close to the Boneyard that it's a simple matter to smuggle technology in and far enough away from Woodhome that they don't worry too much about getting caught. If you went into their homes right now, you'd probably find flat-screen TVs, DVD players, video game systems, personal computers, refrigerators, microwave ovens, washers and dryers… you name it, they've got it, and portable generators to power it all. And now they've captured us and their mistress is coming here to get me." I smiled at the Elders. "What makes you think you're going to be able to hide all your toys from Talaith when you couldn't hide them from me – and I'm not even a Darklord."