“Myrkur!” Nemi screamed, sounding less like a sinister witch and more like a frantic girl. She would have slit her own throat on the kukri as she tried to go to her fallen familiar if Purna hadn’t already flipped her knife up so that only the flat of the blade rested against Nemi’s neck.
“Calm down, calm down,” said Purna, and Nemi stopped struggling, even though Purna had really just been saying it to herself. In the sputtering glow of the fox fire she could now see what he’d done to the horned wolf, even if she didn’t understand it, and even though she immediately wished she hadn’t seen it at all.
The animal was still alive, and made several faltering attempts to rise and turn to its distraught mistress. When that proved too much it fell back on its side, weakly scratching at its muzzle and issuing muffled whines. Its snout and most of its face were enveloped in an undulating, luminescent blob, and as Purna stared the radiant, tarry substance crept farther up its neck, toward its ears and bulging eyes. The horned wolf tried to howl, but couldn’t open its jaws more than an inch before the pressure of the coating forced its mouth shut, a bubble forming at the end of its snout only to impotently be reabsorbed into the pulsing substance instead of popping. It was already one of the worst things Purna had ever seen, but then small black bulbs began to open all over the spreading ichor, and from the way they shifted about in their recessed settings she realized they were eyes. Whatever Hoartrap had touched the poor horned wolf with, it was alive, and watching them.
“If I can’t stop him, kill me,” Nemi whispered, her plaintive whine finally diverting Purna from the grotesque sight. “Let me go, let me stop him, or if I can’t kill me, kill us both, please, but don’t let him… don’t let him… I beg you… don’t…”
“Oh, tosh,” said Hoartrap, holding up his smoking hand and blowing on it as he grinned at them through his tumid boils. “Purna and I are thick as thieves, Nemi, and we owe each other our lives, so I wouldn’t count on her doing anything I might find annoying. You have only yourself to blame, so don’t go trying to make Purna feel bad for doing what needs to be done.”
“Hoartrap…” Purna managed through a dry mouth and chattering teeth, the burning oil stench of whatever it was he’d put on the horned wolf somehow chilling her marrow even more than the sight of it. Whoever this Nemi was and whatever she’d done, Purna really, really wanted this night to be over, and now, without any more of… that. “That’s enough, Hoartrap. You made your point. And this is all a misunderstanding. Nemi thought… she thought you were the one who raised Jex Toth, is all, and since you didn’t that means we’re on the same side, so just, you know, stand down and—”
“I will not!” Hoartrap bellowed, and as he did a growth that covered nearly half his face erupted, thick, steaming juice running down his bloated chin. “I am no bound devil, to be ordered about, to be kept in my place! I! Am! The Touch!”
“Okay,” gulped Purna, seeing she’d taken the wrong approach. “But I’m not ordering, Hoartrap, I’m asking you, as an old chum, like you said, an old chum who saved your life, just cut this kid some slack and—”
“Tapai Purna, in deference to the debt I owe you I shall magnanimously overlook your pathetic demands, your threatening posture, but only if you walk away right fucking now,” growled Hoartrap, and it took Purna a moment to realize what he even meant by threatening posture until she saw her kukri shaking at the end of her arm; without even realizing it she had stopped holding it against Nemi’s throat and pointed it over the girl’s shoulder, straight out at Hoartrap. No doubt it was just a subconscious ward to keep the incensed warlock from coming any closer…
But closer he came, and as he took a step his right leg gave a nauseating snap, and through the shredded bottom of his robe Purna saw a jagged piece of shinbone protruding from the huge bite wound. Purna didn’t know which was scarier, seeing him walk steadily toward her despite how impossible that should be with a messily broken leg, or the fact that in his rage he didn’t even seem to notice.
“I am fucking done,” said Hoartrap, eyes bugging out of his disgusting puffed-up face as he strode toward Nemi and Purna, and while he was staring them down he seemed to be half talking to himself. “Threatened by devil dogs, dragged about by giants, dragged about and threatened by giant devil dogs—enough, I say, enough. It’s time to remind the Star who I am, what I can do… and anyone who stands in my way feels the full wrath of the Touch.”
Well, that was it then, and too bad for Nemi of the Bitter Sighs—no fucking way Purna was dying or worse on account of some witch who had seemed all set to let her horned wolf eat a pair of well-dressed strangers who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But as Purna was about to lower her blade and give the witch a good bump forward so she could at least have a chance to use her sorcery to fight or flee, she realized the girl was hyperventilating, near catatonic with terror. Understandable, all things considered… Purna was close to pissing herself, and she wasn’t the one who’d made Hoartrap so mad.
“Last chance to walk away, Purna,” said Hoartrap, only a few unhurried paces off. “As of right now I’m considering the debt I owed you paid in full—if anyone else kept bossing me about and pointing their pig-sticker at me even after I’d made myself so clear I would have detonated every organ in their body. So you saved my life with the devil queen, and now I’ve saved yours from something far worse—me. And now that we’re evensies, I can and will do unspeakably bad things to you, if you persist in this… this insolence!”
Hoartrap was almost close enough to touch Nemi, now, and in the flashes of floating light Purna saw that whatever had happened to his face was fading, albeit in repulsive fashion—where the big tumor had burst his ruptured skin was melting back together, restoring what passed for normal to the grotesque warlock’s features. Who could stand against a monster like the Touch? Purna slowly lowered her kukri and her eyes, finally relaxing back on her heels, sheathing her blade and putting her hands on her hips with a long, sad sigh. So this was really happening, huh?
Now that she’d backed down, even if she hadn’t yet backed up, Hoartrap turned his gaze to the shivering girl cowering against Purna. He stepped right up to Nemi, seeming to ignore Purna even as he continued to address her. “Smart woman. Now you can stay and see what happens to those who cross me or you can piss right the fuck off, I don’t rightly care. Little Nemi Ilstrix here is going to learn her last lesson, and what’s more, before the end I’m going to make her watch what I do to her devil. I’ve never eaten one that big before, so we may be here all night, but oh, what a feast! I expect I’ll be potent enough to—now that, that right there is a mistake, Purna. Don’t let it be the last one you ever make.”
“That’s a good line. In fact, I like it so much I might just have to bounce it back on you, right about nowish,” said Purna, the pistol she’d whipped up and pointed at Hoartrap’s big fat mouth steadier than her knife had been. She cocked the hammer for effect, wondering if his eyes were keen enough to see the dried mud caking the barrel, marveling at her own insane impulse… but if this was how she went out, protecting a vulnerable stranger from whatever awful fate this monster had in store, well, Maroto would be proud. And not just because the stranger was cute, though he would’ve surely noticed that, too.
“You’ve had your say and you’ve made your point, so now it’s my turn,” said Purna. “However much this witch kitten scratched you, I’m guessing you’re going to recover, yes? And I know you’re mad, and you’ve got every right to be, but think about it, man, what do you get out of killing somebody who’s at your mercy, who offered you a truce even before you got the upper hand? That’s some Chainite shit right there, dark as dark gets—you of all people know the church preaches that mercy’s a sin, and so is humility and understanding your enemy and everything else I’m asking you to do, and if the Chain’s against it it’s got to be okay, right?”
As she talked, Hoartrap’s greasy grin grew wider and wider, which was never a good sign, a
nd so she rushed to find whatever secret words he needed to hear that let everyone walk away from this, even as she doubted such an incantation even existed…
“Look, just… look! Look! Both you and Nemi here seem real fucking sore on Jex Toth coming back, so you’ve got that much in common, maybe we can all work together? I’m beseeching you here, Hoartrap, and you know I ain’t the beseeching type—give her another chance, see if she can atone for whatever she did to you. I mean, if I can believe a nasty old creep like you can do some good in this world, Hoartrap, then I can damn sure believe anyone can, even random wolfgirls I meet in haunted forests. And since we’re all taking on the Burnished Chain and whatever forces they’ve summoned, maybe having a second sorcerer in our pocket is a better move than not having any?”
Purna gulped, out of words and not too convinced she’d found the right ones, but hoping, hoping… and then Hoartrap said, “You have no head for figures, Purna m’dear—come what may of Nemi here, I’m not going anywhere, so there will be always one witch, at least, fighting the good fight.”
“No sir, my maths were solid the first time… because if you touch her I touch you back, and that’s an oath, Hoartrap. I swear it on all the devils I never hope to eat or even meet,” said Purna, wondering if heroes always felt like throwing up when they were being all brave and shit or if it was just her. “So… be a chum, Hoartrap, and make that pledge she pitched you? You know the one, not to harm her or her friends, and while we’re at it why don’t you swear a fresh one not to harm me or mine, now that I know how fickle your friendship can be.”
Hoartrap narrowed his eyes, and seemed to actually be considering it, and from the way Nemi sharply took in a breath and held it Purna supposed the witch might have pulled herself together enough to take stock of what was happening. Then Hoartrap gave a heavy sigh, raising his palms in a peaceful gesture, and said, “Oh, you’re Maroto’s successor, no doubt about that. And I admire your spunk, I do… but I’m afraid your bluff is officially called. We both know that thing isn’t loaded.”
And simple as that, everything fell apart as Hoartrap placed one of his enormous thumbs over the barrel of her pistol.
“I truly am sorry, Purna,” said Hoartrap, and actually sounded like he meant it a little. “I had hoped we could stay friends. That’s what I get for hoping, eh? Now, I’d understand if you wanted to close your eyes now, but this isn’t the sort of thing even devils usually get the chance to see, so I’d strongly advise you watch, however painful an experience it—naughty naughty!”
Standing behind the taller girl, Purna couldn’t see what exactly Nemi had been surreptitiously reaching for, but Hoartrap had, seizing her by the wrist in one hand and ripping something off her belt with the other. Everything went dark as all the pulsing will-o’-the-wisps blinked out in tandem, and when they flashed back on Purna saw a small pouch floating in the air between Hoartrap and Nemi. As she watched, a small grey egg rose up out of the open mouth of the pouch, hovering right in front of Hoartrap’s inquisitive eyes. He now held both of Nemi’s squirming wrists in one enormous hand, scratching his wet chin with the other as the empty pouch fell out of the air and he continued to ponder the floating egg.
“Interesting,” he said to himself, making a gesture with his free hand that made the hovering oval slowly begin rotating in place.
Purna took advantage of the distraction to casually reach for her kukri with her off hand even as she made a show of holstering her flintlock. As she did, though, something hard barked the front of her shin, and in another flash of fox fire she saw it was the heel of Nemi’s boot kicking back to get Purna’s attention. The witch had stopped struggling against Hoartrap’s grasp and craned her neck around as far as she could, and was mouthing something Purna couldn’t make out before another pause in the flashing witchlights made the scene vanish… but when it blinked back into focus she thought she had it sussed, especially when the witch’s wide eyes flicked from Purna toward the hovering egg. Nemi was mouthing the words crush it.
“Oh!” said Hoartrap, just as the light failed again. “Fuck!”
Purna took advantage of the darkness to make her move, her right hand snatching for where she knew the egg was floating while her left drew her kukri. Crush the egg, slash the wrist that held the witch, see if she could level the odds, and—oh fuck.
As the fox fire lit the scene back up Purna saw just how screwed she was; her extended fingertips were about to reach the hanging egg when Hoartrap nodded his chin to the side and the drab oval shot away into the sky, gone just like that. And focused as she’d been on remembering where exactly the egg was at when the light went out, her knife hand was coming down all wrong, poised to hack into Nemi’s forearm instead of Hoartrap’s wrist. She let go of the kukri just in time, the heavy horn handle bouncing off one of Nemi’s pinned arms as the knife flew away, and while that probably hurt something bad it was a lot better than it had almost been.
Then it went dark again, and something decapitated Purna with a single stroke, her head flying off her shoulders.
Except no, her head was still attached, but she only realized this when another pulse of the synchronized fox fire lit up the night. Hoartrap had grabbed her by the throat and held her so tightly she’d instantly gone numb from the neck down, and the feeling of weightlessness came from his holding her several feet off the ground. Raising Purna even higher with his right arm and still holding Nemi captive in his left, the obscenely satisfied sorcerer was about to say something—and Purna was about to try to kick him in the armpit—when the entire clearing at the foot of the rowan was bathed in red light.
Purna couldn’t help but look to the heavens, just as she heard the blast and felt the hot wind sweep down over them. At first it looked like the Immaculate fireworks Duchess Din was so fond of setting off at her garden parties, a scarlet bloom Purna glimpsed low in the sky to the west, through the screen of branches. Then it looked nothing like a pretty firework; instead of fading into the night the glowing red smear spread writhing tendrils up into the sky like a devil-fish composed of liquid fire, until it finally dropped to the earth. Instead of burning out the mass disintegrated as it fell, geysers of flame jetting up into the air from wherever its pieces had landed.
Extraordinary a sight as it surely was, Purna had more important things to focus on, like the giant freak choking her to death.
“Oh ho, you almost got me with that one!” said Hoartrap, letting go of Nemi’s wrists and snatching her by the throat, too. “I’m trying to think of a good egg joke to lay on you, but considering the circumstances that almost seems… overeasy.”
Purna would have groaned if he hadn’t made that as impossible as breathing, and settled for kicking Hoartrap in the ribs, digging her nails into his too-soft wrist, begging the Old Watchers and the Living Saint and anyone else who would listen to cut her some fucking slack here. Prayer went as well as it usually did, and since she knew that in a few moments she wouldn’t be seeing anything ever again, Purna kept her eyes open to the very end… tempting though it was to close them against the will-o’-the-wisps so that her last sight wouldn’t be the strobe-lit Hoartrap the Touch gloating over her murder, the bastard-ass jerk not even deigning to finish her off with witchcraft instead of his meathooks.
But as the lights winked out again Purna felt his hand relax, and she was able to breathe as her wildly kicking feet brushed the ground. He still held her firmly by the neck but she was able to stand, albeit wobbly-legged, and gasp as he let her catch her breath. She hated herself for doing it, figuring she was playing right into his sick games, but she couldn’t help herself… and then the flash of the fox fire revealed he had set Purna and Nemi back on the ground for less sadistic reasons than to prolong their suffering. Hoartrap seemed to have almost forgotten about his captives entirely, his full attention on the sparkling blade that had appeared at the side of his throat, the weapon’s facets catching the light from the will-o’-the-wisps and refracting it outward in sprays of pink an
d purple.
“Well, Hoartrap old fruit, here’s a question for you,” said Diggelby, the tip of his crystalline saber jabbed so firmly against the warlock’s thick neck that a bead of blood had formed around the tip. “Purna’s pistol wasn’t loaded and that egg may have been off, but what’s your professional opinion on this sword of mine, hmmm? I think it’s in shipshape Geminidean fashion, myself, but I suppose there’s only one way to find out how sharp a blade really is…”
Hoartrap looked appropriately gobsmacked, and opened his mouth to speak when Digs leaned forward in his perfect post, and the initial drop of blood where the end of the sword pressed into the Touch’s neck was lost in a minute trickle. Hoartrap closed his mouth, and with his puffy face almost returned to normal there was no mistaking the fury he felt at being outfenced by Pasha fucking Diggelby.
“That’s what happens… when you flex with the Moochers,” Purna rasped as she pried Hoartrap’s now-limp hand off her throat, and saw Nemi similarly extracting herself from the grip of the simmering warlock. “I think the point Digs is trying to make… is that the next words out of your mouth… had better be that fucking oath… or they’ll be the last ones you ever say.”
And as if this situation wasn’t dicey enough already Nemi chose this moment to start contributing to the dialogue, but thankfully instead of talking more shit that might’ve further provoked Hoartrap she just said, “And Myrkur, he has to take it off her, he has to save her. Please, Hoartrap, please, take it off.”
“He certainly does,” agreed Digs. “That is nonnegotiable, as is the rest. And as my wrist grows weary, Hoartrap, what say you? Keeping in mind if it’s not that oath, with all due caveats, you are one dead Touch.”
Hoartrap smacked his lips, his eyes orbiting from Diggelby, to Purna, to Nemi, and finally settling back on Digs, the strobing glow of the witchlights making even these minor movements seem somehow both too fast and too slow. Purna wondered what Digs was going to do when Hoartrap forced his hand, what she was going to do, what any of them could do, now… And then, without any further hesitation, and keeping his gaze on Digs the whole time, Hoartrap swore the oath. Easy as that.
A Blade of Black Steel Page 56