Lenore smiled and patted Jamie's head with her gauntleted hand. "You disguise yourself as a boy to be knighted, too?"
Jamie lowered her head. "I did, but my lord found out that I'm a girl. He kicked me out of town."
Lenore laughed, and for an instant, rage filled Jamie. How dare she mock my tragedy? And yet... Jamie found the laughter contagious. Her anger fled, and she too laughed. "I guess it is a little funny," she said.
Lenore smiled. "Jamie, let me tell you something I've learned, something you must know. You can fight as a knight, slaying dragons, a heroine. You can fight for past glory, to reclaim old days of legend. You can fight as a mercenary, a hired thug always looking for the next gig. But what I've learned is...."
Lenore's voice died off, and she frowned, tensing.
"What is it?" Jamie whispered.
Lenore drew her sword.
Jamie could still see no danger, but she too drew her blade. Then she felt it—a chill in the air, a ripple through her, her hackles rising. Something is here, something scary.
"It's in the alley behind you," Lenore whispered. "In the shadows."
Jamie spun around, stared at the dark alley, and shuddered. Before she could take a breath, five grobblers burst out of the alley, rushing toward her.
Horror flooded Jamie. She hadn't seen grobblers since that day five years ago when Dry Bones led them into Burrfield. They looked just as hideous as Jamie remembered. At least, their left halves were hideous—rotten, warty, maggoty. Their right halves remained as beautiful as nymphs. The pagan gods made sure they'd remain half beautiful, Jamie remembered, so they'll always remember their old beauty.
All this passed through Jamie's mind in a flash, as quick as her blade. The grobblers screeched, and that blade whirred, spilling grobbler blood. Lenore's blade flew with equal skill, and soon two grobblers lay dead. Last time I saw you I was ten and weak, Jamie thought, snarling. A grobbler reached toward her, and she chopped off its hand. I've grown.
"Behind you!" Lenore shouted.
Jamie spun. Three more grobblers emerged from a second alley, fangs bared, drooling. Two wore patches of armor and carried swords. The third grobbler towered a foot taller than the others, cloaked and hooded in black, a staff in its wormy hand.
Jamie ran toward them, screaming. "Watch my back, Lenore!"
"Got it!"
A grobbler hand reached toward her. Jamie hacked it off, but the grobbler seemed not to care. Its hand severed, the grobbler leaned in and bit Jamie's shoulder.
Screaming, Jamie knocked Moonclaw's handguard into the grobbler's head. She heard—and felt—a sickening crack as the metal hit the grobbler's skull. Howling, the grobbler let go. Jamie was free, but not for long. A second grobbler grabbed her leg, and she fell. Claws dug into her arm. Jamie's eyelids fluttered, and she knew not up from down, left from right. Everywhere were fangs and leering eyes, and all she felt was pain. "Sorry, Father," she whispered, vaguely aware of his sword still clutched in her hand. "Sorry I let you down."
The hilt of that sword felt warm—no, burning hot—and Jamie could hear Father's voice in her head. Get up. On your feet! A Thistle does not go down this easily.
Jamie sucked in her breath, then howled and kicked. Her boots hit grobbler faces, and she leaped to her feet, bloodied but waving her blade. That blade swung true, and two grobbler heads rolled. A third grobbler rushed at her, drooling and screeching. Jamie sidestepped and swung Moonclaw. The grobbler fell.
Jamie looked around wildly. "Lenore!"
The white knight lay on her back. Three grobblers leaned over her, biting and clawing, but they could not penetrate her armor. Was Lenore dead? No—Jamie saw her arm move.
The cloaked grobbler, its left half hairy and wormy, began uttering a spell. Grobblers casting magic? Jamie did not pause to contemplate, but rushed forward, sword raised. One of the armored grobblers ran to meet her, wielding its own sword. The blades clanged.
With two parries and a thrust, Jamie killed her opponent. By then, the cloaked grobbler had finished its spell. With a crackle and the smell of fire, the magic turned Lenore's armor to dust. The metal plates blew away in the wind, leaving Lenore defenseless.
"Lenore!" Jamie cried and leaped forward. Two grobblers remained. She ran one through with blind rage, blood splattering her arm. The cloaked, warlock grobbler—the last survivor—left Lenore, fangs stained with her blood, and screeched.
Jamie swung her sword. The grobbler knocked the blade aside with its arm, not even suffering a nick. Damn it, this is some kind of uber-grobbler. Jamie thrust her sword, stabbing the creature, but her blade bounced back as if hitting a breastplate. The grobbler didn't just turn Lenore's armor to dust, Jamie realized, shivering. The magic gave the grobbler the armor's power.
"Lenore!" Jamie shouted, but the knight remained on the ground. Was she dead?
The cloaked grobbler grabbed Jamie's throat and lifted her into the air. Jamie could not even scream. Choking, she kicked the grobbler's face, but it was like kicking metal. Stars floated before Jamie's eyes, and her throat ached with more pain than she'd ever felt.
Suddenly the grobbler howled and dropped Jamie. Jamie hit the cobblestones, bashing her knees. Lenore, dragging herself across the ground, had stabbed the grobbler behind the knee with a dagger.
"I know," Lenore whispered, pale and bloody, "where my armor is weak."
The grobbler was on the ground. Jamie rose to her feet and slammed her sword onto its head, again and again—a dozen times—until the grobbler's magic cracked and it fell over dead.
Bloody and panting, Jamie leaped toward Lenore and knelt beside her. The warrior woman lay on her back, face pale, breath shallow. Blood covered her tunic.
"Lenore," Jamie whispered, tears in her eyes, her fingers trembling. She clutched her heroine's hands. They were icy.
"Jamie," Lenore whispered, her eyes glassy, her hair sticking to her brow. "You fought well." She smiled, a faint smile that soon faded.
Jamie's heart froze, and she could barely breathe. No. I can't lose her. She looked around frantically, seeking help. She saw the old man, his oysters forgotten, staring with wide eyes from the distance.
"Find a doctor!" she called to him. "Hurry."
As the old man rushed off, Jamie turned back to Lenore, leaning over her. Wincing, she examined Lenore's wound, and ice seemed to cover her. She felt the blood leaving her face.
"It's bad," Lenore whispered.
Jamie shook her head, tears falling. "The doctor is coming."
Lenore reached toward her shield, which lay on the ground beside her, dusty, splattered with grobbler blood. "Take my shield," she whispered, pulling it over the cobblestones. "Bear it on your journey. Carry on what I've begun."
Jamie shook her head, sobbing. "You'll bear that shield beside me, fighting with me. You're too strong to die."
Lenore clutched Jamie's hand. "Promise you'll carry my shield, that you'll keep fighting for us."
Jamie nodded, tears on her lips. The scene was too familiar, and she cried not only for Lenore, but for her parents. "I promise." Another promise to bear, another death to carry like her sword and shield. She lifted Lenore's shield and held it, lips tightened. "But tell me, Lenore, what is that thing you learned? The thing I must know?"
Lenore smiled and closed her eyes, her face pale. "You'll find out. Thank you, Jamie. Thank you."
The old man came rushing back, two priests and a physician in tow, their robes fluttering over the cobblestones. By the time they knelt by Lenore, it was too late. Her breath had left her lungs, her eyes had closed, and Jamie remained kneeling by her, Lenore's cold hand in hers, tears on her cheeks.
"Goodbye, the heroine I barely knew," she whispered. "It was an honor to fight by you."
Her lips tight, she clutched Lenore's shield close to her, a white limewood shield emblazoned with a charging boar. I will bear it for you, like I bear my Father's blade. I'll follow in your footsteps.
"She was a great knight," sh
e whispered. "Bury her among heroes."
She looked up into the night sky, a tear trailing down her cheek, and took a deep breath. Orion glittered above, the warrior—her stars. I'll find out, Lenore, Jamie swore, the shield heavy and comforting on her arm. I'll find out what I'm supposed to learn.
As the priests carried Lenore's body away, Jamie walked alone through the night, lips tightened. She couldn't wait to see Dry Bones again. Then he will meet my sword, and he will meet my shield.
Chapter Fourteen
The Merchant of Menace
When Romy woke up, it was dark outside, and she was lying in a bed, a blanket pulled over her. She couldn't remember getting into bed. What's going on? Last thing she remembered, she was sitting at a table with her friends, finishing yet another pint of beer (she'd lost count after ten), and trying to sing a song of the underground. How did I get into bed?
She turned her head to look for Neev, and the movement made pain shoot through her. She moaned, but moaning only made her nauseous. She stumbled out of bed, holding her belly, and managed to reach the window in time. She threw up onto the bushes below. Owie. She felt a little better, but not much. Why do I drink so much? Every time, I swear I'll never drink again. And every time, I end up puking out of some window.
Head aching, she blinked. In the moonlight, she saw the other Bullies asleep around her. The room held three beds. Scruff and Neev shared one bed, while Jamie and Cobweb shared another. Awww... they gave me the third bed, all for me. They do love me. It made her feel all warm and ticklish inside. Oh wait, that's not warmth and tickliness. She stumbled toward the window and threw up some more. Blech. I am never drinking again.
She stumbled toward her bed, but instead of climbing in, she stood for a moment. The bed looked so cold and empty. Suddenly she, too, wanted a bedmate, somebody to keep her warm, to keep her company. She looked at the bed Scruff and Neev were sharing. Both were breathing deeply, fast asleep. There was some empty space between them. Romy tapped her chin, nodded, then climbed in.
Neev mumbled but did not wake. Scruff snored, oblivious. Romy smiled. It felt nice to lie here, two warm bodies at her sides, keeping her safe. Truth be told, Romy was a little scared of the night. It was funny, she supposed, for a demon to be scared. Demons were supposed to be scary, not scared. But sometimes Romy couldn't help it. The sounds of creaking trees, crickets, and especially owls made her shiver. Snuggled between Neev and Scruff, she felt secure.
In his sleep, Scruff tossed an arm over her. His arm was beefy, nearly as big as Romy's entire body, and it almost crushed her to death, but she did not mind. No owls can get me this way.
Scrunching her lips, she closed her eyes and nestled against Neev. "I love you, Mommy," she whispered, kissed his nape, and fell asleep.
She dreamed a strange dream. She was back in Hell and torturing yet another sinner, as she did every day. As she whipped him, she yawned, because she was so bored, so very bored whipping people all day. Finally she hung up her whip, yawned again, and walked through the valleys of Hell, strolling along a river of lava. Suddenly she saw Neev ahead in the shadows.
"Mommy!" she said happily and rushed toward him. "You are here in Hell. Did Dry Bones kill you?"
Neev smiled, the lava painting his face red. "Sorry, Romy," he said. "I'm off to Heaven now. I just came to say goodbye."
"No, Neev!" she said and grabbed him. "Don't leave me."
But he began to ascend, and as hard as Romy tugged, she could not stop him. Finally he broke from her grasp and disappeared, floating up into Heaven, forever gone from her life. Romy began to cry.
"Neev... I don't want you to go. Don't leave me."
"Romy, what the—? I'm not going anywhere, and stop drooling on me."
Romy opened her eyes. It was morning. She was lying in bed, her head against Neev's chest. She blinked feebly, struggling to bring her eyes into focus.
"Neev?" she said, voice weak, the world fuzzy.
He sighed. "Romy, who said you can sneak into bed with me? Now get off. You're making a mess."
Romy noticed that she had drooled all over his shirt. She didn't care. She closed her eyes again; the light seared her. "My brain hurts. Let me sleep some more."
But Neev got out of bed, leaving her cold and lonely. Scruff too, who had lain on her other side, left the bed. Romy heard him stretch and yawn. She opened one eye, saw that Jamie and Cobweb were getting up, then closed her eye.
"Nimugguummmm," she mumbled and began drifting back into sleep.
Neev poked her shoulder. "Romy. Romy, get up. We're getting breakfast."
"Grumblegrumbrmummum," Romy said and hugged a pillow, ignoring him. Everything hurt.
She drifted back into sleep, dreaming of ducklings who chased her, quacking evilly. When she finally woke again, the sun had moved in the sky, and the other Bullies were gone. They left for breakfast without me! How rude.
Blinking, Romy rolled out of bed, falling onto the floor with a thud. Wincing, she struggled to her feet and staggered toward the table. She found a handheld mirror and lifted it, barely able to curl her fingers around it. She rubbed her eyes to clear them from sleep, then examined her reflection. She looked awful. Her hair of flame fizzled, like a fire somebody tossed sand into. Her eyes, normally blazing like two lanterns, now looked like dull embers. Her deep red skin was creased with the lines of her pillow.
Romy stretched and donned Neev's cloak; he had left it upon a chair. She wobbled downstairs, where she found her fellow Bullies at a table, eating bread, cheese, and bacon. They had saved an empty seat for her and a plate of food.
"Morning everyone," she said. "Thanks for saving me some breakfast."
Jamie muttered through a mouthful of bread. "It's two hours past noon. We're eating a late lunch. We just got back from shopping." She swallowed her food. "We visited loads of stores: Arthur's Armor and Arms, Candy Mountain, Sandoory's Sundry Spellbooks and Scrolls (Neev wanted to go there), Cloaks for Less, We R Boots, and even the Perfume Princess for Cobweb."
Romy gasped. She noticed that Jamie and Scruff wore new, silvery breastplates and helmets. Their glitter hurt Romy's eyes, making her squint. Neev wore a new cloak of deep green wool, since Romy normally wore his old black one. He was also leafing through a new spellbook, a tome bound in red leather. Cobweb didn't wear anything new, but Romy smelled frankincense on her; she must have bought perfume. They all wore new leather boots.
"But I didn't get to buy anything," Romy pouted. She especially felt jealous of the boots; she had never owned shoes, and walked everywhere barefoot.
Neev shrugged and closed his spellbook, raising a shower of dust. "Well, that's what happens when you get drunk and sleep until afternoon."
"Boo." Romy stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm going to buy myself a delicious poodle later, and you can't stop me."
Still wobbly, she sat down and made herself a bacon, cheese, and kale sandwich. The food made her stomach whine, but she forced herself to eat it. It ain't pnoodle soup, but it'll help me feel better.
The door to the tavern creaked open, and Romy winced, the sound like a claw in her skull. Eyes narrowed, she turned to see a paunchy, bearded man enter the tavern. Normally Romy wouldn't spare him a glance, but something seemed odd about this man; she couldn't quite pinpoint it. Chewing her sandwich, she examined him. He looked like a nobleman or merchant down on his luck, once wealthy but fallen upon hard times. He wore a costly, embroidered cloak that had seen better days, a hat that was stylish a hundred years ago, and dusty boots. Two ruby rings adorned his fingers, pricey pieces that looked generations old, their gold dull.
Romy's food suddenly felt tasteless. She had spent two hundred years whipping sinners, and she could smell a rotten soul a mile away. This man smelled... maybe not quite rotten, but wrong. Almost as if another's scent had clung to him, invaded him. It makes no sense. I don't get it.
With sinking spirits, Romy saw that the man approached the Bullies' table. He stood by her, removed his plumed hat, an
d said, "Are you the Bullies? Bullies for Bucks?"
"No," Romy said at once.
"Romy!" Jamie said, kicking her under the table. She turned to the man. "Yes, we're Bullies for Bucks. How can we help you?"
Romy winced and rubbed her leg. This man might be a client, but still, she didn't trust him. She trusted her nose, and her nose told her two things today: bacon was delicious, and this man was trouble.
The man fished five golden coins from his pocket and slammed them onto the table. They gleamed. Romy didn't understand human currency, but judging by how her friends' eyes glowed, she assumed this was a fortune. This much money could buy many poodles. Still, Romy didn't like it; these coins smelled wrong, too.
"There are five more golds once you rescue my daughter," said the man. "Roogs kidnapped her to their cave, where they torment her for fun. My name is Yona. Will you help me?"
Roogs! Romy shuddered. She hated those creatures. Hated them. She would sometimes see them wander the underground. They did not dwell as deep as demons; they lived in tunnels near the First Circle, sometimes foraging for food on Earth, sometimes digging deep to hunt baby demons. They looked like humans, but had milky white skin, no hair, and mouths for eyes, each mouth full of fangs. They were known as thieves and racketeers, not as cruel as grobblers or disgusting as moldmen, but greedy beasts who'd do anything for money.
Yona's voice trembled, but Romy suspected it was all an act; his eyes remained cold. She opened her mouth to refuse him, but Jamie kicked her again, even harder this time, and Romy bit her tongue. Jamie might be just fifteen, five feet in heels, and barely a hundred pounds, but she was a strong little devil. Ouch.
"What does your daughter look like?" Scruff asked the man, brushing crumbs off his tunic.
Eye of the Wizard: A Fantasy Adventure Page 16