*****
Long, in the Village
“Mardine thought they mighta taken the river, but Tresa convinced her to head north,” Dyx offered.
“But they could have been long gone if they’d taken the river,” Long protested. “Takin’ the road north don’t make any sense.”
“Aye. That’s what Mardine thought, too, I’m guessing.”
“Might be,” the constable interrupted, “that yer daughter’s kidnappers took the north road because it seemed such a foolish idea.”
“Well,” said Long, “I’ve gotta go after them. Mardine and this Tresa, anyways. If I can find them, we can all go after Esmine together.”
“You need any help?” Dyx asked, clearly hoping Long would decline the offer.
“I do,” Long admitted. “And I know where I can find it, too. Before I go, though, I’m gonna need a new horse. Mine’s blown, I’m afraid. Anybody here able to sell me one?”
“Sell you one?” Dyx repeated. “I can do better’n that. I’ve got one I’ll give you for nothin’. ‘S the least I can do.”
Long was touched by the man’s gesture. “I appreciate it, Dyx. I truly do.”
A quarter hour later, Long was galloping southeast, on his way to Teshton.
*****
Vykers, the Lake Bed
The damned thing was relentless, a term Vykers had often heard applied to himself, but that now seemed to take on a whole new level of meaning. It rained blows on him with such frequency and force, Vykers began to feel the unfamiliar sensation of despair creeping into his bosom. If only he could just reach that water, cool himself off enough to think what to do.
He feinted going left and dodged to his right, using a last burst of speed to reach the water’s edge. There, the few rocks along the shore were crusted with a thick layer of salt, reminding Vykers of winters back home. Looking up, he saw the juggernaut rapidly approaching, so he sheathed his sword and jumped into the shallows…only to find them not so shallow. There were two to three feet of water, and the same again of mud. The juggernaut was almost upon him again, so Vykers thrashed violently and propelled himself out of the mud and into deeper waters. It was not as cool as he’d hoped and the extra salt burnt like the countless hells on his wound and various cuts and scrapes, but Vykers found he was also more buoyant than normal.
He heard a tremendous splash, and his gut tightened at the sight of the juggernaut pursuing him into the lake. And then it began to sink.
Vykers laughed for joy. Of course! The accursed thing was made of steel, solid steel, and couldn’t swim no matter how hard it tried. Indeed, the further it pushed into the lake, the deeper it sank. Vykers came closer, taunted it to follow and then took a few strokes farther away. He could see the thing battling to reach him, but all in vain. Its every move sucked it deeper and deeper into the mud, where it would sit and rust for eternity. Vykers wondered whether the juggernaut understood that it had lost. It didn’t matter. Vykers was alive and forever beyond his opponent’s reach.
As he swam to shore, the Reaper was greeted by the cheers of an adoring throng – even the Emperor’s knights seemed appreciative of his victory. The only holdout was the Emperor’s Shaper.
“I should blast you where you stand!” the man snarled.
Vykers drew his sword. “Try it,” he said flatly. The Historian didn’t need to translate, and the Shaper stepped back, patently alarmed.
One of the Emperor’s knights, a man in armor slightly different from the rest, stepped forward and removed his helmet. He was an older man, balding on top and possessed of a carefully sculpted beard. “You have defeated our champion, which means you have defeated all others before him. You have earned the right to approach the captive at the obelisk. But I should warn you of two things: one, she is very dangerous, and two, the Emperor will not forget today’s events, which he will undoubtedly view as a loss of face.”
The Reaper was in no mood for diplomacy. “If he doesn’t like it, he can come and find me.” With that, he pushed through the crowd and advanced on the obelisk. “Son-of-a-whore! We’ve got her at last!”
Fifty feet away, inside a narrow column of flames that rose into the heavens, Her Majesty glared back at Vykers with a look of profound impatience. “What in all hells took you so long?” she demanded.
*****
Long’s team, Gangrene & Sons, Teshton
The first to show up had been Rem, but a greatly transformed Rem. Gone were his flowing locks, his fancy clothes, and his cocky, boyish charm and enthusiasm. The man who remained was gaunt, with three days growth of beard and a wary look in his eyes. But if Rem’s appearance had worried Spirk, Yendor’s shocked him. The man had lost an eye and was stone cold sober for perhaps the first time in Spirk’s memory. Try as he might, Spirk was unable to get his companions to unburden themselves of their obviously painful experiences in Lunessfor, but he hoped, when and if the Captains Long or Kittins showed up, that everyone’s mood would improve.
Was he ever wrong about that!
Long arrived first, days after Yendor, frantic and out of breath.
“Ah, lads, you’re here!” He exclaimed in apparent relief. “I was afraid…well, no sense in going into it, is there? Any sign of Kittins?”
Everyone shook his head, including Ron, who had yet to be introduced to the group.
“How long you all been here?” Long asked.
“Days,” Yendor said.
“Days and days,” Rem corrected.
“I been here maybe a week,” Spirk concluded.
“I’m sorry about that, making you wait so long,” Long said. “I got sidetracked and, well, my daughter’s been kidnapped and my wife’s gone missing in search of her.”
The whole group leapt to its feet.
“She’s what?” Spirk cried in disbelief.
“I need your help, lads. I need your help like I never did before.”
That’s when the door burst open and Colonel Bailis came tumbling through, only to land face-first on the tavern floor. Behind him, a frighteningly changed Captain Kittins materialized.
“Ah, you’re all here. Good,” he said.
The group remained on its feet at this latest spectacle and even the tavern’s massive barkeep came closer.
“Ere now,” the man said, “what’s all this about?”
“What’s it about?” Kittins smiled humorlessly. “It’s about treachery. It about being played for fools.”
Long stepped closer to Bailis, who remained in a heap on the floor, panting desperately. He hardly looked like the same man without armor and after the beating he’d evidently been given. No, what he looked was old, tired and afraid.
Having been on the verge of enlisting his old crew to help in finding his wife and daughter, Long was not disposed to humor the other captain, whom he had never especially liked from the get-go. “Explain.”
Kittins kicked Bailis. “Tell them,” he commanded.
In a halting, fragile voice, Bailis said, “As I understand it, Cindor…”
“That’s the Queen’s Shaper,” Kittins clarified.
Bailis nodded. “Yes. Cindor’s real aim in sending you into the Great Eight was to create as much chaos as possible…”
Long laughed, bitterly. “I’d say he succeeded on that score.”
The other men agreed in a chorus of “aye”s and “that he did”s.
“Go on,” Kittins prodded Bailis.
“What else is there to say?” the colonel asked of his tormentor. “I suspect Cindor never believed in your ability to discover anything of the Queen’s whereabouts or the manner of her abduction…”
“Which suggests he already knew something, himself,” Kittins added.
“You all were sent in to keep the Eight occupied.”
“Tell them the rest.”
“The Eight have been…destabilized. I’m told your actions precipitated the recent riots and murders amongst the families. The result is, predictably, none of the great Houses wil
l pose any threat to Her Majesty for some time.”
“So?” Yendor asked after a long silence.
“So?” Kittins echoed in disbelief.
“Our lives were in danger, either way, and we was paid, right?
“Maybe I don’t like being used and deceived.”
“What do you propose we do about it?” Rem inquired.
“I propose,” Kittins snarled, “that we find this Cindor and set him straight.”
“Now hold on, there,” the barkeep interjected. “I work for Cindor.”
There was almost a whooshing sound in the room as all heads turned in the barkeep’s direction. Rather than looking sheepish, as one might expect, he looked ornery. “Who’d you think I worked for? Alheria’s cousin, Ninnia? Anyway, we’re gonna have problems, you folks ‘n me, if you’re thinkin’ of making trouble for my boss.”
During his abduction of Colonel Bailis, Kittins had acquired some decent chainmail and a fearsome-looking sword. He drew it now. “As it happens, I love trouble.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Long shouted. “Wait a minute! I don’t know as we’re all in agreement here.”
Kittins stared irritably at his fellow captain. “You’re fine with letting this Shaper walk all over you?”
Long shook his head. “I didn’t say that, but I ain’t sure more violence is the answer. And, anyway, we got other problems just now.”
“Like what?”
“Long’s wife and daughter have gone missing,” Rem answered.
“Fine,” Kittins growled through clenched teeth. “You all go take care of that, and I’ll deal with the Shaper on my own.”
“You’ll have to get past me, first!” the barkeep shouted.
Kittins grinned his ugliest grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
*****
Vykers, the Obelisk
Vykers walked to within inches of the arcane fire burning around the Queen and obelisk. The flames gave off no heat, but a strange, crackling energy. At his back, the amassed armies watched in absolute silence. “Took me longer to get here and find you than I planned. You’re still alive, though, so you ain’t got much to complain about.”
“There’s always something to complain about.”
“What I don’t get is why you’re still alive,” Vykers replied, ignoring the Queen’s comment. “You lost a hand. You’ve been standing next to that rock there, for what I’m guessing is days and days. No food, no water, no shelter. What’s keeping you going, that obelisk?”
“This obelisk is a trap.”
“A trap? And you’re the one caught in it.” He stared down at his boots, linking the facts in the story together into a coherent chain.
“Yes, well,” the Queen continued in obvious exasperation, “it was meant for me.”
The Reaper looked at her in feigned surprise. “Was it, now?”
“Oh, stop being so coy, Reaper. It doesn’t suit you. You obviously think I’ve withheld information from you, and I’ll happily answer all your questions once you’ve released me.”
This is a dangerous game, Arune cautioned.
There any other kind worth playing?
She had nothing to say to that. Vykers looked down at his boots again, as if they held all the mysteries of life.
“What are you dawdling for?” the Queen demanded.
“I ain’t forgotten how you schooled me in all those games we played when I was bed-ridden.”
“And?”
“I’m not lettin’ you do it again. Not here. Not now.”
“You think this a game?” Her Majesty roared. “Trade places with me and see how amusing you find it.”
“I’m afraid I’ll want more ‘n answers in exchange for settin’ you free.”
“Men!” the Queen snapped. “I’ll never know why the gods created you.”
“Why don’t you pray to Alheria and ask her,” Vykers quipped. He thought it a fairly witty remark, but was not prepared for what came next.
“Pray to Alheria, you witless brute? I AM ALHERIA!” This was said so loudly that every last man on the lake bed could not help but hear it.
I warned you, Arune whispered in the back of Vykers’ mind.
You coulda been a little more specific! He snapped back.
On the surface, Vykers pretended to be unshaken and unconvinced. “If you’re Alheria, where’s Mahnus? Why doesn’t he save you?”
The Queen lowered her voice again, spoke in more intimate tones. “Because I had a fling with a mortal, the old fool became insanely jealous, and I had to kill him.”
Vykers digested this. Or tried to. “You’re sayin’ you killed Mahnus.”
“Are you deaf as well as dim-witted? Yes, I killed Mahnus. And I’d do it again if the big oaf were nearby.”
“Huh.” Vykers turned away, studied the collection of armies before him.
“Release me!” the Queen barked.
“Why me?”
“Self-pity, Vykers?”
“Not at all. I mean, why’s it gotta be me in particular who releases you? Why couldn’t any o’ these men do it?”
“None of those men possess your sword.”
“Oh,” Vykers said, the light dawning, “so, I could hand my sword to the least o’ these soldiers and he could free you in my stead?”
“Perhaps,” the Queen responded. “But then, he’d get the reward I intended for you.”
Vykers brushed this off. “Tell me about my sword.”
“You are taxing my patience!”
“Am I? You been standing here for how long, and a few minutes’ chat with me is taxing your patience? I’d’ve expected more from a god. Goddess. Whatever.”
Alheria couldn’t argue the Reaper’s logic. “Your sword,” she said, “was forged by the same god who made this obelisk. Your sword is the only thing that can destroy it.”
“Right. And this other god would be Mahnus?”
“Yes,” said Alheria.
“And he’s dead, and you killed him…”
“We’ve been over this!”
“I’m still gettin’ used to the idea. Now, tell me, how is it you fell for a trap set by a god who’s dead?”
The goddess thought for a while and then answered, “The obelisk only forced its way to the surface recently. Until then, I was unaware of its presence. When I…felt it, I was afraid Mahnus had found a way to cheat death, so I came down here to investigate.”
“That explains why we never found any trace of your abductors: they never existed.”
“Correct.”
“And because you didn’t know what you’d find, you had your Shaper send me chasin’ after…”
“Yes,” Alheria yawned.
“And your hand. How’d you lose that?”
“I cut it off myself, to help you find me easier,” Alheria said. “But I would like it back once you’ve released me.”
“And this trap, how’s it work?”
“Since when have you shown an interest in anything other than killing?”
“So, you’re not going to answer my question?”
“You may be the most annoying human who ever lived.”
“I’m honored you think so.”
Alheria sighed. “A small quantity of my blood must have been used in the construction of this obelisk; it is bound to me, and I cannot escape its grip unless it is destroyed.”
“Won’t that hurt you in some way?”
“Probably. What do you care? Are you going to free me or must I stand here until you die of old age?”
“If you’re Alheria, I imagine you can heal me.”
“I can,” the Queen admitted, somewhat reluctantly.
“Then do it now!” Vykers answers.
“I cannot heal you whilst bound to this stone. I could not heal myself, if it came to that.”
“But you will heal me, if I free you…”
“Yes, yes, you accursed oaf! I’ll heal you; I have given my word!”
Well, Vykers told Arune, he
re goes nothing. He raised his sword, strode into the uncanny flames, and struck at the obelisk.
As Flies to Wanton Boys (Immortal Treachery Book 2) Page 46