by Guy Adams
Hope looked at Soldier Joe. "I don't understand a word of this," she said. "I think we should go now." "Of course you understand," said Alonzo. "You just think it's beyond you so you hide from it. Stop doing yourself a disservice woman!" He laughed. "Just go with the flow."
"I've spent my entire life 'going with the flow'," she said to him, "as you well know if you've spent most of yours up here spying on me."
"Oh not just you," he replied, "I spy on everyone. Only He can claim true omnipotence but I certainly try my best. The more you know, the better you can plan." He smiled over his tea cup. "And I really have got a terribly good plan. Do you want to hear it?"
Chapter Seven
FIVE MAN ARMY
1.
WE WALKED THE trail for about half an hour before the smoke and noise of a small camp came into view. The whole place reminded me of a down-at-heel circus that had forgotten to put on a show. The area of beach had been—for want of a better word—shaven of its hair to allow space for people to set up shop. I wondered whether someone had to come out every morning with a razor and strop to keep the ground trim. Tents of varying sizes and quality were dotted about, fires burned, people busied themselves. The camp thrived.
The first port of call, at Biter's insistence, was to get something to eat. It seemed like a fine idea to me, I'd been living off the old man's trail stew for days and something more substantial definitely appealed. At least it did until I saw what was on offer.
"Something hot my friend?" asked the stunted chef who bounced around behind a pair of cooking fires, shuffling skillets and squirting oil. He looked like a man who been carrying heavy weights all his life, his entire body crumpled like a squeeze box. His face was all about the straight lines, squished, flattened eyes, nose and wide, wide mouth.
"We have the freshest meat available in the whole camp," he assured us. He didn't need to, it was hanging next to him from a pair of ropes, crying.
"Maybe a slice off the thigh?" the chef suggested, showing off his large knife. "Or a whole leg if you're hungry."
"All of it!" the hanging man begged, his moustache sodden with tears and snot. "It's what I deserve!" He began sobbing again, his fat belly quivering.
"What do you think?" Biter asked. "Want to share a leg?"
"He's alive!"
"Well, yeah... for now. You prefer belly? Or rump?"
"I prefer something that's not fucking human and crying at me!"
"Oh. Well, it's not like he minds. It's what he wants after all."
"I do, I do!" the man said looking at me. "Cut me, slice me, fry me!"
"Why?"
This confused him a little. "It's punishment," he said eventually.
"For what?"
"For a life of sin!" he howled. "It's what I deserve!"
"Says who?"
"Him, mostly," said Biter. "This place is full of them. You mortals have a real problem with your lifestyles. Always wanting to be punished for things."
"Well, this is Hell."
"Yeah, and you know what they say: Hell is other people." He turned to the chef. "I'll just have some thigh please."
"Oh thank you!" the hanging man said. "Thank you!"
"No worries pal, hope it really hurts."
"It will... Oh yes it will!"
The chef began sharpening the knife. "How do you like it cooked?"
"Barely singed," said Biter. "Just crisp up the edges for me."
I wasn't going to watch, so I chased after the old man who was on the hunt for transport. "Lost your appetite?" Meridian asked, catching up with me.
"I don't like to hear my steak scream before I bite into it."
"I know what you mean. Adds sauce to most of the people you find on The Bristle, though, it's a rough area, you should watch yourself."
"What are they going to do, kill me?"
"There's worse things than dying, Elwyn, don't let your new condition go to your head."
"Yeah, well, you won't have to worry about me for much longer, will you?"
I was feeling all testy, I admit. What with the weird surroundings, the smell of cooking meat and the fact that she'd made it quite clear that she didn't intend to hang around.
Everywhere I looked I saw something disturbing. A man was piercing himself with swords in front of an applauding crowd, each one bit deeply and you could tell he was losing his stomach for it. Not least because you could see it, dangling in front of his knees.
Another stall was selling animals, packed into cages so tightly their faces were distorted by the bars. "Divining beast, sir?" the merchant asked as I passed. "Blinded at birth and ready to show you the future in their gizzards at the slip of a knife!"
"No thanks," I replied. "I think I can see my future clearly enough."
"Lucky man," he sighed, "it's all a mist to me."
"Roll up! Roll up!" called another, a massive fellow with a head the size of an apple. Fat hands held a megaphone up to its pinched little mouth, projecting his tiny voice across the crowds and noise. "Who can last in the Tank of Death? Big prizes to anyone who can go the distance!"
Next to him was what looked like a giant fishbowl, seemingly empty until you looked closer and saw a single, brightly-coloured fish darting to and fro. "I'll give it a go," said a spiky creature with deep, purple skin the colour of a bad bruise.
"What's the deal?"
"If you can stay under the water for more than thirty seconds I'll give you the memories of a mortal President—five years of ultimate power, machinations, blood and thunder! Best memories on the market."
"Alright." The creature tugged off the stained pair of bib pants it was wearing and began to climb up the set of steps next to the tank. "Get that clock running!"
He dropped into the water with a splash, holding his nose closed between pinched fingers. For a moment he just hung there, then he stuck his thumb up to show all was well. The small fish swam around him a few times then darted at him and the water was a sudden explosion of internal organs. From clear liquid to gut broth in the blink of an eye.
There was a moment of silence. A small splash. Then the water slowly turned clear again to reveal the tiny fish had grown massive on its meal. A stream of bubbles ran from its mouth and slowly it began to shrink until the whole tank was just as it had been before—clear water with a single, tiny occupant.
The stall owner raised the megaphone to his face again. "Roll up! Roll up!"
"Why would anyone risk it?" I asked Meridiana.
"People get bored," she said. "They'll do anything to fill their time. These are hard times in Hell, the power base keeps shifting and there's never enough to go round. It's always the same at the end of The Fastening cycle. Everyone hopes things will improve after today but they never really do. Hell is filled with dead, miserable souls and ever-growing clans. The dead just want punishing, the living haven't got a chance to do anything worthwhile with their lives. It's all just a circus really." "Hey," said a small violet giraffe to my left. "Wanna buy some Buzz?"
"I have no idea what that is," I admitted.
"Yeah, yeah," it sighed, "just say no..." He wandered off.
"Buzz?" I asked Meridiana.
"A drug. They say if you take it you feel like a mortal; you get their memories and fears, feel their pain."
"Sounds great."
"It's popular. Tried it once myself, ended up crying about a dead puppy I'd never owned."
As if on cue, Biter caught up with us, his hairy chin now glistening with hot fat.
"You missed a treat," he said. "Best meal I've had in days, rich with pepper and tears."
I just shook my head. This was all too much for me. I looked around for the old man, the sooner we could get out of here the better.
2.
I FOUND HIM at the far edge of the camp, walking up and down next to a small corral of animals.
They bore a similarity to horses, though their skin was black and smooth, more like that of a pig, and their mouths showed a pair of fanged
teeth.
"Where've you been?" he asked. "I need you to find out how much it is for a couple of these rakh."
"Rakh?"
"Call them horses if it makes it easier."
"How are we supposed to pay for them? I haven't got anything left to trade with?" I looked to Meridiana and Biter. "I don't suppose you two have any money?" "Nobody uses money here," the old man reminded me. "It's all about experience or promises. Everyone wants something."
"This ain't a zoo," said a husky voice from behind us. I turned to see a thin, reptilian looking creature, like an Iguana walking upright. "If you want to buy then let's talk."
"I want four of your rakh," I said. "What's the asking price?"
"We don't want four of them," the old man said, "just two. We ditch the strays here and get on our way."
"Four is it?" the lizard said. "I have just the beasts you're after. Picked them up in the Thunder Wastes only last night. Run faster than a dog with its ass on fire so they do."
Meridiana took my arm. "Why are you buying four? You still think you can convince me to come with you?"
I shrugged. "I hope so."
"What have you got to trade?" the lizard asked, giving Meridiana an appreciative look that made me want to yank his forked tongue until it reached his knees.
"I'm about spent out," said Biter, "sorry. Unless you have any intimidation work that needs doing?"
The lizard looked at him. "If I need to scare any folks I get the wife to do it," he said.
"you're in the wrong line of business son, this ain't The Copper Eventual, we can all do our own intimidating around here."
"What do you want, then?" I asked. "I've probably got some memories you can have."
I was bluffing, I'll admit. While I wasn't struggling too much at that point, my time in the casino had left great, gaping holes in my history, whole months now lost to me. The lizard beckoned me over, put his hands on my shoulders and then, much to my dis gust, his tongue struck me on the forehead as if aiming for a fly. The tongue receded and it looked thoughtful. "You trying to get me in trouble, boy?" it asked. "You're spoken for. I try and lift anything from you and I'm liable to have someone knocking at my door in the middle of the night. You can't sell what ain't yours to give."
"Ask him if he needs anyone killing," said the old man. "If there's one thing I can still do here it's fill someone with lead."
I did so. The lizard laughed. "I've got nobody I need to get rid of. Wish I did, nothing sparks up a dull afternoon like a bit of murder." He looked to Adriana. "I guess there's maybe one thing I might like to get a taste of though, if you really wanted those rakh?"
"She's not for sale," I said immediately.
"She is if she wants to be," said Meridiana. "She's her own girl after all."
"Well now," the lizard drew closer. "As long as you folks were of a mind to keep it to yourself... I mean, if the wife heard tell I was trading in such a manner she'd have my tail for a fly swat."
"You can't..." I began to say but Meridiana turned around and held her finger up.
"Keep quiet," she said. "I know what I'm doing."
She turned back to the lizard. "I'd need those four rakh signed over to us first. I don't mean to come across as an untrusting girl but business is business."
He shrugged, the folds of loose skin around his throat quivering in excitement as he pulled out a receipt book and began to scribble in it. "I don't mind trusting you," he said, tearing out the receipt and handing it to her. "Besides, you try and pull a fast one on me and I'd just tear your face off." He smiled showing rows of tiny but sharp teeth. "Now what say you and me head on inside the tent there for a while while your friends deal with the grunt work? I'll even throw in the saddles."
"You're too kind," she said, following him inside.
At the mouth of the tent she turned back. "Get them saddled up and ready to go," she said, "I'll not be long."
With that she disappeared.
"I don't like it," I said. "It's just not right."
"Well," said Biter, "he seemed like a bit of a prick to me so I say he's got it coming."
It didn't understand what he meant. "I was talking about Meridiana, having to have sex with that thing just so we could get some horses... or whatever the hell those things are."
He smirked. "You don't like people getting what they want do you? You got a real thing about people's dining habits." He wandered over to the coral, looking for the saddles.
"What's he talking about?" I asked the old man.
"She's feeding, boy. And she just solved our transport problem. Maybe it ain't such a bad thing having her along after all."
He walked off after Biter.
3.
THE RAKH WERE like horses in a real pissed off mood. They kicked and snorted and fought to avoid the saddle. I ended up with a mean bite on my shoulder just by walking next to one. After a few minutes I was of a mind that the lizard had got the better bargain, even if he might not live long enough to appreciate the fact. We'd not long saddled them up when Meridiana reappeared. I tried not to notice the spring in her step.
"We should move," she said. "Who knows when someone will discover the..."
There was a terrible roaring noise from inside the tent.
"Ride now, ride now!" Biter shouted, jumping onto his rakh and kicking at its sides.
The old man followed, Meridiana watching as, to her, a riderless rakh went charging off through the camp. "Your invisible friend," she said, "I don't think I'll ever get quite used to that."
"Never mind him, what the hell is making that noise?"
We both climbed on our beasts as the tent tore in half and a huge, roaring lizard appeared.
The thing was the size of stagecoach, its mouth wide open, the flaps of its skin quivering as it roared at us.
"I guess that must be his wife," said Meridiana, charging after Biter and the old man.
My rakh refused to move. Even as the giant lizard drew closer, the ground shaking as its heavy feet pounded the earth.
"Move you fucker!" I shouted, bouncing up and down on the damned thing and kicking at its flank.
It slowly began to trot, in entirely the wrong direction.
The lizard swung its tail at us and it was that that finally got my animal moving, disliking as it did, the feeling of a barbed tail up its backside.
Having finally found its running legs, the damned thing was all but uncontrollable as I rode through panicking crowds.
On either side, angry voices rang out as I nearly ran them down. "Who taught you to ride?" shouted the owner of the Tank of Death through his megaphone as I charged right at him.
I managed to turn the rakh just in time but the owner toppled against his tank, upending it. A great plume of water fell over the gathered crowd. One man, a surprisingly dapper young fellow in a three-piece and Derby suddenly clapped his hands together. "It's alright!" he shouted, "I caught it! Somebody fetch me a bowl of..." He then promptly vanished in a red mist leaving a fat, panting fish lying on the ground where he had been standing.
That was the last thing I saw as the rakh finally caught the scent of its fellows and made a dash for the road.
4.
AFTER TWENTY MINUTES or so of hard riding, it seemed the camp was safely behind us and we managed to slow our rakh down to a speed that was more forgiving on the ass.
"So I guess I'm sticking with you for now," said Meridiana as I came up alongside her.
"I noticed." I tried to smile but have a feeling I gave her more of a flatulent grimace. I still couldn't quite get my thoughts straight about her. My mother did warn me that women could be complicated. When she'd said as much, though, I doubt she was envisaging a time when her son might fall for a sex demon.
"After all," she continued, "I guess I do own these things so it would be stupid not to keep an eye on them."
"I'm trying not to think about that," I admitted. Then went on to prove what I liar I was. "I mean... did it have a normal...? That
is to say, it being a lizard how did you...?"
"Don't worry about it, Elwyn," she said. "You don't always check the straw when you're drinking the iced tea." The further we went along the shores of The Bristle, the more the landscape began to change, growing flatter and more open. To our left was what looked like an open plain, albeit one of a deep orange hue that made my eyes hurt. The plain was filled with long, covered huts, like cattle sheds. Maybe that was where the lizard thing had kept his rakh?
We were approaching the far end of the lake, where the Clearsight would have happily ferried us had I not inadvertently managed to sink it. There was a small harbour, with a couple of jetties and a shack with strange, unhealthy looking fish hanging from the guttering. As we got closer I realised they were actually body parts, fished from the lake. Some of them were still twitching.
One last, imposing stretch of rock reached up from the harbour, towering above us. At its summit there appeared to be a large house, surrounded by a high wall, each corner of which featured a guard post. It looked like a fort.
"That's Greaser's place," said Biter. "What a view, huh? He's doing well for himself and that's for sure."
We dismounted, tying our rakh up on a rail by the harbour shack.
"We need a plan," said the old man. "It's not as if we can just go riding on there and ask to see Agrat."
I repeated as much to the others.
"Greaser's main business is in imports and Buzz," said Biter. "People say he has an open channel to the mortal world so he can smuggle goods in."
"What sort of goods?" I asked.
"You're not going to like it."
"I don't like any of this very much. There's no need to start sparing my blushes now." "Well, according to what I hear—and, you know, this is bar talk, I'll admit that—he's smuggling people."