“Do we kill these two?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Wisdom is my specialty. Not prognostication.”
Nigel said, “Can you at least tell me what they did to earn the wrath of Grog?”
“They’ve done nothing to anger your gods. Their only crime is being the unwilling servants of the Lost God, who was banished by the other gods above when your world was still young.”
She sat on a log and gestured for him to join her.
“The reason for the banishment is a bit complex. The rivalries of the gods are as complicated as they are petty. Though the Lost God always was a bit of a dick. All deities see mortals and this world as their personal toy box, but they can usually share. But the Lost God got a bit too grabby, was a little too destructive. Earthquakes, floods, plagues, futile and bloody wars. These were his favorite things. Which didn’t bother his brothers and sisters much at first, but when it became clear it was getting out of hand, something had to be done. Mortal suffering meant little to the gods above, but threaten their amusements with careless destruction, and they will act.”
“Why banish?” asked Nigel. “Why not just kill the son of a bitch?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Nigel used his hand to obscure the top of her hideous face. Her smile filled him with warmth. He wondered if it counted as cheating if it was a vision.
“It doesn’t,” said Thuzia. “But it isn’t going to happen.”
“Can’t blame a guy for thinking about it.”
“Can we return to the topic?”
He grunted.
“The real reason the gods didn’t kill their especially destructive brother was that they couldn’t. Gods cannot kill gods. Not as mortals kill mortals.”
“Why not?”
“Metaphysics are complicated. Just accept my word on this. Gods can die, but it requires a specific alignment of circumstances. The most important element is the hand of a mortal, chosen not by the gods or the Fates, but by his or her own will. Such mortals are all too rare. But there is nothing in this world or any other that the gods fear more. They would be the greatest weapons for the gods to wield against one another, but by their nature, these mortals don’t listen to the gods. Catch-22.
“Banishment was their best alternative, but it was an imperfect solution. The Lost God can’t escape his punishment, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He succeeds, to varying degrees, every so often. And the clash of the gods shoving him back into his cage wreaks havoc upon the mortal world.”
“How much havoc?”
“A few hundred thousand souls dead. Not much, in the grand scheme of things. Certainly nothing worth noticing by the gods above.”
“Then why bother drafting us?”
“Because Grog is sick of the bullshit. If you think it’s hard being an orc, you should try being an orc god. It’s not any better for us up there. The way the other mortal races used to look down upon you, that’s the way it still is up there. The other gods are polite enough, but they don’t respect us. We orc gods can relate to you mortals in a way few other deities can. And Grog doesn’t see the point in allowing thousands to perish for the amusement of the gods.”
Nigel stared at the red moon. It stared back with its three eyes.
“You’re telling me we’re the good guys?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Whatever the future holds, mortals will live and die regardless of your actions. But many will die considerably less horrible deaths if you do your job.
“But to be clear, Grog’s motives aren’t entirely altruistic. He’s also hoping to stick it to the other gods, deprive them of amusement. But benevolent spite is about the best one can hope for from the gods.”
He could live with that.
Nigel took another drink. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a tumble?”
Thuzia shrugged. “Oh, all right. But let’s make it quick. I’ve got things to do.”
She stood. Her dress fell away, revealing her in all her naked glory. She undid the clasp on her cape and hood. He stopped her, looked into her many bloodshot, yellow eyes.
“Leave the hood on.”
20
Helen spent the night in Troy’s tent, along with Troy and Achilles. She didn’t sleep well. The quarters were tight. Some unidentified beast of legend stalked the edge of the camp for ninety minutes, shrieking as it did so. Her curse mark ached. And she was worried about rolling over on Troy and crushing him, even knowing the fear was ridiculous. She wasn’t a giant, just a very big girl.
She awoke alone. Sitting up, she poked a hole in the tent with her right horn. There’d been just enough headroom the night before. She must’ve grown a fraction of an inch in the night. She hugged herself to take measure. She didn’t feel bigger, but if the growth was uniform, the hug test wouldn’t reveal it. She wished for a tape measure and a scale but changed her mind when she decided she’d rather not know.
She rolled a kink out of her shoulder as she exited the tent. Troy tossed her a granola bar.
“Coffee is almost ready.” He stoked a small fire he’d built.
She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but she had three cups that morning in an effort to keep up with Troy’s energy. It annoyed her. As much as she liked him, she was beginning to find his sunniness irritating. It was as if he weren’t even human, as if nothing bothered him. Even his professed dislike of dogs didn’t keep him from petting Achilles.
A person without flaws sometimes didn’t seem like much of a person at all. It was a petty thought, seeming all the more petty when she looked at Troy’s smiling face. She wondered if he suffered from moments like this, if he ever was mad at someone merely for existing. Probably not, because he had no reason to feel inferior.
Also, he just wasn’t like that.
It irritated her, but it wasn’t his fault, so she did her best to ignore it. It helped that the qualities she resented about him were the same qualities that made him easy to forgive. It was practically impossible to stay angry in Troy’s company because he made the world a much brighter place simply by existing within it.
Damn it. She was the sidekick.
Unseen dragons howled and warbled their morning cries. The clear blue skies and fresh scent of rain helped add a spring to her step. Not enough to keep up with Troy’s enthusiasm, but who could?
She decided to have a good feeling about today despite standing in the middle of a wilderness full of monsters.
Troy scratched his hand. “The itching is getting more insistent.”
Helen was glad it wasn’t only hers. She rubbed her fingers over the mark carved into her furry flesh. “That’s probably a good thing, right?”
“Probably,” he agreed.
They packed his tent into the Chimera. Hers had blown out of the protective zone and been shredded by some creature of legend. The tatters hung on a tree branch, and it stank of acidic urine.
They drove down the road, trying to use their itching hands for guidance. Helen held her fist in front of her and moved it back and forth. The hope it would take them where they needed to go proved fruitless. It wasn’t radar, and the prickles were too slight to be useful.
“This is a bust,” said Helen.
“It’s early yet,” replied Troy. “I’m sure something interesting and/or dangerous will come along soon enough.”
Achilles barked. Once.
“See? He agrees.”
“Stop the car,” said Helen.
Troy stopped. She got out, opened the trunk, and grabbed the box containing her magic wand.
“I’ve got an idea.”
She removed the wand, closed her eyes, and envisioned her command in her mind. She waved the wand in a circle and mumbled the first magic word that came to her: “Huzzah.”
A tingle ran through her hand and a pinpoint of light appeared at the wand’s tip. The light shot off like a bullet into the forest.
“Damn it,” said Helen.
“What was that?”
“It looked like it worked,” he said.
“Maybe, except it was too fast to follow. I’m not even sure which direction it went.”
“So try again.”
Helen imagined the same spell, but adjusted the guide light’s speed. She waved the wand in a circle. “Huzzah.”
The result was the same. The light blasted into the forest.
“I don’t think you can use the same magic word,” said Troy. “It’s like pushing the button for the windshield wipers and expecting it to start the car.”
Helen frowned at the wand. “They could’ve included an instruction manual.”
She repeated her modified spell, this time muttering, “Hocus pocus.”
The summoned ball of light appeared. It crawled toward the woods, an inch at a time. Two minutes later, it had barely journeyed five feet.
“Fourth time’s the charm,” said Troy.
The new guide light sped off into the woods at a fair clip, but one they could keep up with. Except they weren’t ready.
Troy put the roof up and grabbed the shield and non-dragon-slaying magic swords.
“We should leave Achilles,” said Troy.
The dog whined, running between Helen’s legs.
“You don’t want to take the dog, but you have room for that?” She grabbed the novelty tin teapot from his hand. “How is this going to be helpful?”
“I don’t know, but the fates practically said it would be good to use against a dragon. I assume we’ll figure it out when the time comes.” He snatched it, stuffed it in a backpack.
“The oracle said Achilles would come in handy.”
“He already came in handy once. I don’t think he gets to do it again. Not so soon after the last time.”
“But what if he does?” she asked.
Troy pointed to the woods. “There are dragons in there. We shouldn’t be dragging him with us.”
Achilles barked and wagged his tail.
“If he gets eaten, it’s on your head,” said Troy.
She patted Achilles. “He’s too smart for that.”
Helen recast the spell, and they followed the light into the forest, toward whatever terrible beast it was leading them to.
“This is pretty crazy, isn’t it?” said Troy. “We’re looking for a dragon. We’re actually doing this.”
He was smiling.
“You’re totally into this,” she said.
“Aren’t you? You’re the one who brought us here. You’re the one who cast the spell.”
Helen nodded. “I know, but what if I’m wrong? What if all I end up doing is getting us killed?”
“But what if you’re not?”
The guide light paused. Helen listened to the forest. Something warbled in the distance. It could’ve been a bird. She wished she’d spent more time camping. Or any time camping.
“This isn’t like you, Hel,” he said. “You’re not an indecisive person.”
“We can’t all share your unshakable confidence.” She was unable to suppress the edge in her voice. “Next to you, everyone’s indecisive.”
Troy said, “We’re not talking about me.”
The light bobbed away. She didn’t follow.
“You don’t know me, Troy. We’re not even really friends.”
“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course we are.”
She leaned against a tree. “No, we’re two people who have spent a little time together because we share a job and went to the same high school. And now we’re together because we’re stuck on the same quest. It’s not like we’d go out of our way to hang out without it.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But I like you, Hel.”
“So what? You like everybody.”
“That’s not true.”
She folded her arms. “Name someone you don’t like. Anyone.”
“I wasn’t crazy about Mr. Whiteleaf.”
“Before or after he tried to feed us to an unholy meat monster?”
“That’s not fair. Before that, he wasn’t a bad boss.”
“Barring attempted human sacrifice, is there anyone else?”
Troy said, “Well, no. I guess not.”
“That’s what I mean, Troy. You like everybody, and everybody likes you.”
He said, “And why is that a bad thing?”
“Because it means that you really don’t like anybody. Not if you like everyone.”
He said, “First, I don’t like everyone exactly the same amount. I like some people more than others. Second, I still think we’re talking about me when we should be talking about you.”
“You don’t know me well enough to analyze me.”
“But you know me well enough to analyze me?” he replied. “That’s fair.”
Helen glared. “I didn’t start this conversation. You did.”
Troy smiled. “Hel—”
“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say some cool, funny thing that makes everything better. Not this time. This time I wrestle with my inner demons on my own, thank you very much. I’m not the sidekick. And I’m not going to feel weird because I’m nervous walking around in a forest with dragons. Because that’s the normal way to feel, the way a regular person should feel.”
He nodded and put a finger to his lips.
“Now let me cast this stupid spell again so that we can get eaten by a monster and get this over with.”
He bowed and made a sweeping “After you” gesture.
She resisted the urge to strangle him. He wasn’t perfect. But he was close enough that it could be infuriating. “Thank you.”
The new guide light led them farther. The forest grew darker and quieter, the foliage denser. It smelled of moss and humidity. Somehow the canopy caused the light to turn gray. And when they finally stepped into a clearing with an unobstructed view of the sky, it didn’t brighten.
The clearing was full of broken and uprooted trees. Giant three-toed footprints marked the ground. At the opposite end a yawning, black cave swallowed up their guide light.
Neither said a word.
Achilles perked up and flattened his ears. He didn’t make a sound.
The birds still sang, though. The bugs still chirped. A breeze blew across the clearing, bringing the scent of cut grass and wildflowers.
Helen tucked her wand in her belt and took her magic sword. She didn’t unsheathe it.
“I guess we should go in there,” she finally dared whisper.
Troy nodded. “It’s what questers do, right?”
They took a few cautious steps into the open.
She said, “Hey, I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t be,” he replied.
“But it’s not right for me to—”
“Hel, it’s fine. Really.”
She said, “Troy, don’t be a jerk. I’m trying to—”
“No, I was wrong and—”
She stopped, prodded him in the chest. “You were wrong, but you don’t have to be so goddamn nice about it!”
She realized after she spoke that she hadn’t whispered.
A harsh wind kicked up, adding something new to the smells of nature. The slight stench of rot. The wind came from the cave, and it pulsed with the steady rhythm of something breathing. Something big.
Achilles growled.
Without saying a word Helen grabbed Achilles, and Troy and she ran back to the concealment of the forest. They fell to the ground and peered out from under some bushes as a long blue dragon slunk out of the cave and into the light. It wasn’t as big as they’d expected, only about the size of a bus. It was even built like one, with a square body and four short legs. Its belly scraped across the ground as its tail whipped back and forth. Its head was broad and flat, like a catfish’s. It even had the whiskers. And its yellow eyes were set far back in its head and to the sides, like a rabbit’s.
A single sail ran down its back, catching the sunlight and reflecting it in shimmering gold. It didn’t have wings.
The dragon turned its head from side to side. Because it didn’t have a neck, that meant rotating its awkward body on its awkward legs. And just when they were sure the monster had spotted them, it quietly slunk into the woods in another direction. Despite its size, it slipped into the forest without knocking down a tree, without making much noise at all, except for a crack as it snapped its tail like a whip.
They waited a few moments to be sure it was gone.
Troy slung the shield over his back. “This is our chance.”
If they were lucky they could get in, raid the dragon’s lair, and leave before it came back. If they were unlucky there was more than one dragon in the lair, but it was still better to enter when one fewer dragon was about. If they were really unlucky it wouldn’t matter, because without luck they weren’t going to survive this quest anyway.
Helen was optimistic. She had the key the fates had given her still in her pocket. Until she needed it, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume she wasn’t going to die. The fates could be cruel, but even they couldn’t be that lousy. Unless Helen’s destiny was to carry the key here and get killed so that a later quester could find it on her skeletal corpse.
She wished she’d stop thinking of stuff like that.
“You don’t think the shield has some special protection against dragons,” she asked. “That’d probably be too convenient.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “But convenient coincidences aren’t unheard of during quests.”
The cave was quiet and while the stink of rot was still present, it was noticeably lesser. Helen used her wand to light the darkness. To her encouragement, it only took one try to get the spell right.
The cave went farther and deeper than they’d suspected. It was dark and damp, but there were no indications that a monster called it home. No piles of old bones. No claw marks dug into the walls. No heaps of treasure. Not even piles of dragon crap.
“Maybe it was just checking the place out,” said Helen. “Maybe it doesn’t actually live here.”
Achilles barked. It echoed off the walls. Helen and Troy jumped.
They glared at the dog. His tail fell flat and he lowered his head by way of apology.
Helen and Troy's Epic Road Quest Page 15