Kat thumped toward the bar like a walking beer keg, and I fully expected his legs to break through the weak floorboards. Miraculously they held his weight and ours; but on route, I near fell onto a table of card players when an eel, resembling a wet sock with golf ball eyes, bungled under my feet and slithered out the flapping doors. "What the?" I muttered, aghast.
The bald bartender was the oddest of them all. Made entirely of a gassy blue flame, he was a man like any other, but for that all-encompassing heat shield. "What can I get ya?" he asked us, passing a shot glass to one customer, who wisely left it to cool before drinking.
"A minute,” replied Kat.
At the piano, an oversized thing played the incoherent nonsense we heard from outside. This creature was a shag of purple hair all over, with a slurping mouth as wide as the instrument it played. What can only be described as a fat bumblebee flapped its wings in one corner of the ceiling, around and around in brooding circles he went. Finally, stretched on a bench lay the crinkly cream body of a maggot larger than any other here. Disgusting.
"Heee better not show today!" buzzed the bee. "I ain't scared! He won't run meee out! Just you wait!"
"Let it go!" the maggot said to the bee. "There's nothing you can do, Charlie! Nothing at all."
"That'sss what you all think! You think I'm a coward! Well you're wrong! All wrong!"
Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, these were souls scared to venture forward, and scared to turn back. But for what it was worth — with their drink, music and friends — each seemed to have found a tiny peace of paradise here in Breakneck.
I noticed those customers seated at tables did not play cards for money, chips or matchsticks, but for the only currency worth a damn here: the rejuvenating well light. Players kept their stash piled beside them in cups or preciously balanced saucers. Some carried flasks containing dregs of the stuff while others had droplets swirling in dirty ashtrays. Clearly, the light was in limited supply — none had the amount our company carried, none had seen the centre of the labyrinth.
"Ready to order?" asked the winter blue barman.
Ignoring him, Kat sauntered to the table nearest and to the three skinny men blowing froth from their pints. "Beat it,” he snarled.
The grey faced drinkers froze, and after hasty contemplation, one swallowed his pint whole, scooped up his belongings then left the saloon with fellow drinkers in his wake. Taking a seat at the now vacant table, Kat signalled us to do the same.
"What do we do now?" I asked, feeling weirdly at ease as I sat on a wonky chair.
Anxious, Harmony gazed past the flapping doors to the jet streams of glass outside. "Stuck here,” she mumbled, resting the longbow on her lap and fiddling its string.
"In that case," huffed Eddinray, still standing; "drinks! Long have I desired one!"
Harmony urged him to sit, but Eddinray paid no attention to her on his way to the bar. There, four creatures ordered drinks, and following Kat's example, Eddinray barged through the pack like a school bully — shoving both a salmon faced woman and inebriated peacock to one side.
"What can I do you for?" asked the barman.
"Drink,” Eddinray answered, purposely lowering his voice. "I'm thirsty. Real thirsty."
A tense looking barman flicked Eddinray a shot of black liquid, which he keenly knocked back.
"Blugh!" he suddenly exclaimed, spitting over the counter. "This is the most offensive thing to ever grace my lips! And I've ate bark for goodness sake! Bark!"
"Thank you!" said a delighted barman. "That'll be one dreg if you please?"
"One what? What are you raving about man?"
"Dreg of light,” stuttered the barman, reaching his hand under the bar counter.
"The price for the drink."
"What are you hiding there?" uttered Eddinray, pointing. "What skulduggery is this?"
"It's nothing sir!" declared the barman, his flames rippling nervously. "Nothing at all!"
"Liar! Show me — show me this instant you…blue person!"
Reluctantly, the barman pulled back his hand back to reveal a club gripped in his burning fingers. Eddinray considered, then with a queer smile said. "Dreg of light you say? You mean…this stuff?"
With a boastful grin, Eddinray raised his canteen and twisted off the lid. Immediately, starlight swooned out from the bottleneck, and hungry hands came to snatch before they could vanish. Nonchalantly, the knight resealed the canteen and every living thing hushed respectfully for this man of fortune — even the carpet playing piano halted play to enviously peek at the wealthy stranger, the knight who came from the desert.
"You've been to the labyrinth!" cried the peacock. "To the very centre! It's true, isn't it true?"
"He has!" declared the salmon faced woman. "No man carries that much dreg without seeing the labyrinth! Everyone look! Gather round!"
Wild fire whispers spread, and we at the table watched with concern.
"I have been to the labyrinth!" confirmed Eddinray, loud and proud. "What of it?"
The mob cheered and crowded him, with the hovering bee proclaiming over the pandemonium.
"Heeee is God's chosen one! Heeee is!"
"The chosen one!" they repeated, with sycophantic screams. "The chosen one! The chosen one!"
All drunks roused the saloon with the same eager chorus. "The chosen one! The chosen one! Here! Hurrah!"
Eddinray was suddenly a superstar, he was Elvis and the Beatles combined, and he was loving it.
"Tell us chosen one," asked an enthusiastic barman — "how did you survive the rat men? How did you evade their mother queen?"
"YES! TELL US! TELL!""
Eddinray beckoned a hand for silence, and his ego was overjoyed to get it.
"The labyrinth rat men," he started slowly; "I turned to mince. The mushy kind, you know! I turned them all to mince! Born to face evil — raised in the jungle — I fear no man or thing…"
Harmony blurted a laugh through her fingers, while I could only shake a flummoxed face at Eddinray's confidence. "People, I am Sir Godwin Eddinray! And those seated fools are my squires!"
An insulted Kat squinted back — maybe it was being called a fool by the fool of fools, or a squire to that fool. "Out of his wits,” he muttered to me. "I told you he was mad, Fox."
"Oh, no!" said Harmony, seemingly unaware of any potential danger. "He's just enjoying himself. Godwin is a natural entertainer!"
"Entertainer or not," I said, "this is no place to attract attention."
"Would the chosen one care for another drink?" asked the barman, eager to please. "My pleasure of course! Anything for the chosen one!"
"I should think so too!" he returned. "Pray tell sir, what do you know of the chosen one? Who dare speak of me?"
It was as if Eddinray asked the entire saloon this question, for every mouth shot answers at him.
"The chosen one sent to Hell for a great task! The greatest task!"
"A heavenly quesssst!" buzzed the bee in flight. "To lead the great and good in the second battle! The chosen one!"
"Here in Breakneck!"
"A knight!"
"Eddinray! Touched by God himself!"
Part amused, part disturbed, I badgered an agitated-looking Kat for more information.
"A myth!" Harmony interrupted. "The afterlife has its legends too, Daniel."
She was right — one of them was leading me to the 9th Fortress.
"I am the chosen one!" announced Eddinray, pounding a fist on the bar top to shake the pints of lesser men. "And I want everything what's coming to me! A bath for starters…with genuine soap!"
All of a sudden, the two saloon doors were flung open, and a substantial silhouette stood before the blazing glass-storm. Enthusiasm for Eddinray died an instant death for this new arrival, this authority awaiting all to acknowledge his attendance here. Once the man had absolute attention, he let doors swing shut and moseyed toward the bar.
He was a man, and hefty, the blubber beggin
g to burst his belt and shirt buttons; he wore old leather from hat to boots and caressed a belt full of miniature knives. His face was crushed by overstuffed cheeks giving him a babyish and horribly unhealthy appearance. He strut with great wheezing breaths and rippling rolls of fat, but still the floorboards held. Surreptitious eyes watched his walk, and the distinctive musk of fear accompanied that of buttery sweat. "Usual!" the obese stranger cragged at the barman, who was already hurrying for the order.
Only now did Eddinray appear dismayed by the loss of his crowd, the nervous barman meanwhile burned red as he poured a pint for his new customer. "No trouble,” the barman whispered. "Not today…Deadeye."
"No trouble,” the greasy nosed man agreed. "Just the drink."
"And will you be paying today? I mean, you don't have to, but if you want to then…"
"I will pay,” answered Deadeye, revealing a watery pouch by his belt.
"Collected it this morning. Should cover the tab too."
"Deadeye you ssstink!" hummed the bee in the ceiling. "You won't run meee out! Deadeye ssstinks! Deadeye ssstinks!"
Oxygen in the saloon seemed to be sucked out of some unseen hole in space, and I watched many attempt to lurch unnoticed from Deadeye's radar, some even preferring to face the storm outside than the one brewing in here. Remaining expressionless to the bees insults, the stout man never once removed his eyes from his grimy pint glass. It was only when drinkers assumed a lenient Deadeye would ignore the bumblebees abuse that the fat man unleashed his darts, striking three knives with machine gun speed and pinpoint accuracy into the bees heart. Stunned customers held the drink in their gobs, and like a dying spitfire, the bee stuttered to crash land on a table.
"Charlie!" grieved the maggot. "What did I tell you? What did I say?"
Deadeye gave a hint to one drinker, who promptly scurried to the still twitching bee, recovered all three knives from its body before returning them to Deadeye's belt. The bee then receded to that common speck of plasma, leaving a pair of weightless wings and a handful of prickly yellow hair.
"No trouble!" urged the barman. "Hell this may be, but I run a joint free from the chaos outside! Free!"
Deadeye returned an accommodating squint, and another pint soon filled his chubby palm.
"Where was I?" pondered the knight. "Oh yes — what's coming to me! Let's see!"
"Shut up Godwin!" whispered Harmony, from our table. “Shush!”
"Deadeye?" said Eddinray, clearing his throat. "Never in my days have I heard such a preposterous name! If you are not the most ridiculous man here I will eat my own helmet!"
The tubby man wearily exhaled to this fresh threat beside him. "What do you want?" he asked Eddinray. "This better be damned good."
"I want you to apologize to this bar, mister fat man! Your outrageous kill was an act of cowardice. When I am satisfied, if I am satisfied, I shall allow you leave with tail between your legs. Got it?"
"Eddinray?" I begged. "Sit down! Do something Kat…"
Unfortunately, Kat was more than happy to watch events unfold; finally, the entertainer was entertaining him. Eddinray repeated his terms to Deadeye as that mammoth man gobbled down his latest drink. The entire saloon was now in restrained commotion, deformed mouths salivating at the possible face-off: Deadeye versus the chosen one — it was going to happen.
"If you wanna keep your body, English;" said Deadeye, burping and pushing his cup aside, "you'll shut your mouth."
"And you'll show me some respect you…, you…behemoth!"
Excited murmurings followed this exchange, all awaiting Deadeye's response.
"I'll give you a choice," he then said to Eddinray, rubbing fingers over his little knives. "Should I kill you with three knives…or one? You choose?"
Eddinray's eyes ballooned in his head. "Everyone!" he announced, mortified. "This blubbered whale has left me no choice but to act, and act I shall! It will not be a pleasant sight, thus I advise those with delicate dispositions to avert their pupils, or the nightmare I unleash will torment you forever!"
With my nagging finally grating Kat's ear, the samurai rolled his eyes and sighed. With great reluctance, with great, great reluctance, he then squeaked back his chair and went to the knight's rescue. Once at the bar, Kat forced himself between both fat and thin men, and was considerably shorter than both.
"Sit,” he ordered Eddinray, thinly.
"But samurai, this gargantuan garbage-man has off — "
"Sit!" Kat repeated, like a furious father at the end of his tether. "Now…"
Deadeye wore a clever smirk as the barman slid a fresh pint under one of his chins.
"Come now Godwin.,” pleaded Harmony. "No more of this!"
Glum faced, Eddinray listened then returned in a sulk to our table.
"Who are you?" Deadeye asked Kat, genuinely curious.
"I am Kat,” he answered back. "Leave your drink fat-man, and get out of here."
Deadeye's features had changed all of a sudden — eyes watering, his well-fed skin turning pale. He had no doubt heard of our small warrior, and with that knowledge in mind, he left his drink and the saloon as fast as his weight would allow. It was then Kat's turn to be surrounded by the stunned and sycophantic freaks of Breakneck.
"You make beer?" Kat asked the grateful barman, tasting a lick of Deadeye's abandoned pint.
"A version of it,” he replied. "The boys pay me dreg that I use to trade souls who find what I need. Dreg gives relief from pain, and the drink relief from fear. Both are temporary here. So what can I get you…Kat?"
The samurai observed the storm outside, the doors upstairs, and our scored faces at the wonky table. "Rooms,” he said. "Get me rooms."
28. Duel at Dawn
Eddinray closed the door as lightly as possible, the healing air already mending the cuts pervading his face. Basking in a lantern's warm glow Harmony Valour was already waiting for him, and she could not be any more beautiful.
"Daniel and Kat are sharing,” she said, placing her quiver, longbow and bandanna in the corner.
Their room was the bare minimum: four walls, one window and a bed covered in a scabby sheet. Outside that window a peaceful nights gloom hid the gruesome goings on, and for a little while at least, they could forget their time and place in it.
"Poor Danny," huffed Eddinray, "trapped in a room with the samurai. Better to be outside. How do you feel? The arm I mean?"
Vaguely nodding, Harmony sat on the edge of the bed. "Better. I'll remove the sling in a day or so."
"Nowhere to change,” Eddinray remarked, holding his forehead in a befuddled state.
"Change?" she asked, lost. "Into?"
Eddinray rubbed his chain mail like an apple, then plopped himself opposite Harmony on the bedside. "Best keep my armor on then,” he muttered to himself. "Yes — prepared for danger."
He sat back against the headboard and froze the moment Harmony took his hand. "You carried me a long way today, Godwin. How could I ever express my appreciation?"
His ears turned red, and an aching dryness attacked his lips and trickled to the back of his throat. "It was nothing…my dear! Any man worth his salt would have done the same."
His lips were briefly parched by her tender kiss, but somehow he managed to hold his composure.
"Truth of the matter is," he said, recovering; "I was the only fellow capable of supporting you. Daniel had succumbed emotionally and the samurai? Well, need I say more? Are we sharing a bed tonight, or shall I get acquainted with the floor?"
"The bed is fine,” she replied, shyly. "We will have to sleep on our sides, facing one another; I cannot rest on my wings you see, and will not have them plugging your nostrils through the night.”
Eddinray smiled. This evening he would undoubtedly be the happiest man in all hell-fire.
***
I sat atop the bed, the mattress like stone and the sheets too filthy to sleep under. At the foot of the door, Kat sat with a ready katana perched across his lap.
&nb
sp; "Don't forget to wake me,” I said, head fidgeting against a pathetic pillow. "Change over in two hours. Did you tell Eddinray?"
Kat didn't have to remind our friends of sleep shifts or to keep them on guard; they were more than aware of the risks in a dive like this. Besides, our room was next to theirs, and anyone planning a sneak attack would first have to ascend the squeaky staircase, then past our door and Kat's ears before reaching Harmony and Eddinray. Yeah, we were safe in this saloon for the night, with the warhorse Kat, and self proclaimed chosen one next door. "What about that large guy?" I asked, watching our lantern oil burn out. "Deadeye they called him. You humiliated him downstairs."
"And he considers himself lucky. Sleep Fox."
Obeying, I attempted to settle myself by counting cracks on the ceiling like many bouncing sheep, but infuriatingly awake, I decided to scratch another itch. This was my first night alone with Kat since our horrendous time on the Macros, sharing snow caves and a frail tarpaulin tent during our search for the Weather-Maker. We communicated then — I wanted to try again now.
"Your real name?" I diligently asked. "It can't be Kat, can it? Will you tell me?" Of course, Kat said nothing. "Come on samurai! Aren't you interested? Don't you have curiosity and questions like the rest of us? You must do!"
"Sleep,” he muttered from his corner.
"You are allowed, you know!” I continued. “You can ask me anything you want! Whatever is on your mind! Don't you want to learn more of the man you're risking your soul protecting?"
Exasperated, I went back to counting cracks, when suddenly and without any conscious effort, my mind numbed and the mouth ran free from thought.
"My name is Daniel Franklin Fox.” 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
“Divorced. Father of Kathy.” 6. 7. 8.
“41 years old when I passed on.” 9. 10. 11.
“I killed a man…I killed one man." 12. 13.
Finishing my count, Kat's head creaked to observe my distant dreaming. "There are twenty five steps on the landing," I added, "leading to four rooms. The barman has a limp under that coat of fire, a machete down his pants and three missing buttons on his shirt. There were twenty-four glasses stacked near the register — none of them clean. There are nine stools along the counter, six tables and eighteen chairs around the bar. Oh, and there are thirteen cracks on the ceiling above us. Unlucky for some."
The 9th Fortress Page 27