by Markus Heitz
“Just shoot the silly mouse if you’re scared of it,” Balyndar said briskly, misinterpreting the sounds.
“Yes, before Franek’s spell makes it grow the size of an ox,” added Ireheart, completing the thought as he ran his fingers carefully along the ax blade. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
Slîn had leaped up, not wanting to believe his eyes: Shields, lances, daggers, swords and other weapons were zooming together from all corners of the room to make a monster with human form. A deadly creation, born from magic.
“Absolutely charming! I fear the maga wasn’t using the right spell when she checked this place out for safety,” he said, speaking very fast.
“Oh, so it is a giant mouse?” the fifthling mocked.
“Turn round and look, you idiots!” snapped Slîn, aiming his bow at the creature—well aware this would not help. Franek had told them that only magic itself could overcome one of these creatures.
“Mind yourself, gem-cutter. You can’t talk to me like that just because we let you travel with us. It doesn’t mean I like you. And I won’t be spoken to like that.”
Ireheart was about to tear his eyes away from the newfound ax when it picked itself up and whirled past their noses; an unseen power dragged his crow’s beak from his grasp and Balyndar lost his morning star. “What…?”
At last they turned round and saw their enemy. An enemy they now faced unarmed.
The creature had formed a massive hand composed of knives; it was holding Keenfire up and the handle of the crow’s beak pointing down. The being clattered its way over toward the dwarf-trio.
Ireheart realized now where the marks on the flagstones at the jewelers’ market had come from, and he knew also who had stripped the meat off the bones of the corpses they’d found. He grabbed Balyndar by the sleeve, pulled him up and they walked backwards, very slowly.
“Why didn’t you warn us, fourthling?” the fifthling growled.
Slîn laughed mirthlessly. “Good joke. You were both immersed in ax-worship.” He pointed with his crossbow at the creature. “It’s over there if you still want it.”
“I certainly do!” Ireheart nodded, frowning and lowering his head between his shoulders aggressively. “I don’t mind the blades. No one is going to threaten me with my own weapon!” He lifted up a wooden strut from a broken cabinet and whacked the enemy with it.
There was a click and the arm made of spears and lances whirred, rotating like a drill, crashing into the wood.
Ireheart was showered with sawdust and found his hands were empty. “Confounded…” He turned in dismay. “Let’s get out of here.” He ran off, with Slîn and Balyndar at his heels. They charged down the street side by side.
“Which way?” asked the fifthling, glancing round at the artificial monster, which was just emerging, doubled-up, from the shop doorway. The weapons that had been lying in a heap in front of the shop rushed up to fuse with all the others.
That was not all.
Clicking and scraping, the steel-and-magic creature changed shape, giving itself three extra pairs of legs and thinning down its core so that it turned into a spider, setting off after them.
“We’ve got to lure Keenfire back to Tungdil. He’ll be able to take it for himself,” panted Ireheart as he ran. “I’m incensed that I’m having to run away from my own weapon.”
They rounded the corner into an alleyway too narrow for the spider creature to fit through.
But when they heard the rattling and clattering come closer nobody had to turn and look in order to know the thing pursuing them had transformed itself again. It was chasing them through the streets as if it were herding stampeding guguls.
Rodario was sitting in front of the house in the shade with a few sheets of paper, noting down his thoughts with a quill pen. He had composed some lines on liberty and adventure.
Mallenia brought him out a glass of water. As she passed it to him her fingers touched his hand. As if by accident. They looked at each other.
“How is Coïra?” he asked, his eyes returning to the page.
“Quite weak now from the long march. If you grow up in a land where water is the dominant element you have a tough time in the desert.” Mallenia dropped her voice. “You know she’s hardly got any magic left.”
He looked at her in surprise. “How do you…?”
“She told me. She says she’s only got about a third of the magic energy she would normally have. The amount grows smaller orbit by orbit. We must get her to the source as quickly as possible.” She drank some water. “We can only hope the gods preserve us from any magic attacks.”
Rodario went on writing and asked, “What else did she tell you?”
“What else?” Mallenia’s tone of voice indicated sharp attention. “Is there something else?”
“No.” He tried to change the subject. “I mean, I don’t know. You women seem to like having secrets. So I thought I might learn something new. Who else knows about her difficulties?”
“Tungdil and Boïndil. That’s all. That’s the way it has to stay.” She glanced at his notes. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m writing. For what’s about to happen.”
“Not the fight against Lot-Ionan?”
“No. For after that. It’s just ideas. The descendants of the Incredible Rodario will take them to the people of Girdlegard as soon as the battle for the future has been won. The unknown poet has done his duty as a freedom-fighter, but our work as actors and bards is not over.” He was unusually serious, almost statesmanlike. “We must establish order quickly before greedy despots emerge to usurp powers they are not entitled to.” Rodario offered her a seat next to him. “I should like to ensure it is you and no one else that sits on the throne of Idoslane.”
“That’s good of you.” The Ido girl sat down by him and stared at the fountain. “Were you offended by the kiss I gave you?”
“No.” He put his pen down.
“I got the impression you were no longer interested in me.” She sipped her drink, then turned her head. “Stupidly enough I am still keen on you, even if I can hardly wait for the return of my old, shy Rodario.”
“He’s still around, deep inside,” he replied with a smile. Then he took a deep breath. “Women don’t like sharing their men. So I think it’s only fair to say I ought to release you and concentrate my attentions on Coïra.”
“You may laugh, but the maga and I have already discussed this.” Mallenia smiled. “The latest state of play is that we don’t mind sharing you.”
Now Rodario had to put the paper and quill pen aside. “You’ve done what?”
“We did what men always want us to do: We came to an agreement,” she repeated, and raised her hand to stroke his cheek. “So you don’t have to decide between us, Rodario, and we won’t be scratching each other’s eyes out or declaring war on each other’s realms.” She smiled and was delighted by his reaction. Suddenly he looked vulnerable again; the helpless Rodario she found so attractive was back. “There’s one condition, however: You will never share a bed with both of us at the same time.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” he laughed, half in amusement, half in astonishment. “And I really don’t know…” He got up and paced up and down across the square. “… I really don’t know if I like this idea.”
“Aha. So it bothers your manly nature to hear that two women have set the rules this time.”
“No,” he said at once. “Or perhaps, yes?” He scratched his head, then his beard. “This has never ever happened to me before,” he muttered. He came to a standstill and put his hands on his hips, staring at the blond warrior-girl. “Who do you think you are?” he burst out indignantly.
“Who? Me?” Mallenia pointed to herself.
“No. Both of you. Coïra and you! You’ve sworn sister-hood, you want to make me your… slave, but you never…” he said, wagging his forefinger, “thought to let me in on the secret!” He kicked the ground. “I feel… humiliated and abused!�
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She was speechless. “Here I am, telling you that two girls are in love with you and that you can have both of them, and you throw a tantrum like a jealous child?” She put her head back and laughed out loud. “How very, very sweet! Ah, this is the other Rodario you’re showing me, just to please me. How kind of you.”
“What?” He waved his arms about in exasperation. “Ye gods! What is the world coming to?”
Mallenia stood up, a grin on her face.
“Stop!” he called as she approached him. “Stay where you are! Before I know it you’ll be wanting to kiss me because you think I’m so sweet…”
“Exactly.”
“… and adorable.”
“True.” She was nearly upon him, but he dodged and banged his hip on the stone fountain. “What do we have to do to rid you of your bad mood? Perhaps we should let you think you have seduced us both?” Mallenia’s tone was mocking and she was amused to see him blush. It was hard to see how the calm, eloquent Rodario, who had been philosophizing about Girdlegard’s future, and this infuriated man could be one and the same person. At least she knew now how to make her pet Rodario put in an appearance.
The actor raised his hands to push her away. “Don’t come too close. I’ll have to give the matter a lot of thought before I kiss either one of you ever again.”
“Yes, you will,” she said, laughing and turning away. “You’ll find me with Coïra.”
Rodario perched on the edge of the fountain, reached into the water and cooled his face. “Women!” he murmured. “Sharing me out! Me! The very nerve of it!”
The water ran down to the tip of his nose, over his cheeks and mouth into his smart little beard. He felt a little calmer.
Of course he was attracted to the Ido girl, and the thought of having both women really was not to be sneezed at—but actually he felt insulted. His masculine pride was hurt. His Rodario pride. How could this be happening to a descendant of the Incredible Rodario? He should be conquering hearts, not being haggled over and shared out like a sack of grain.
“To make a pact like that! What a nerve!” he muttered, feeling the cool dampness dripping onto his shoulder as the water soaked through his shirt. The fountain was splashing more loudly now.
It was so hot that he did not find this unwelcome, but he could not explain why the jet of water had changed direction.
Rodario turned his head—and froze. Towering four paces high behind him was a being similar to a human, but formed entirely of water. It had a broad head and a snoutlike face with long teeth. Teeth made of solid water…
Turning round again he pretended he had not noticed anything untoward as he peeled himself away from the stone surround of the fountain and walked over to the house entrance. He must call Coïra to come and see this phenomenon and tell him what it was. It was really not the normal way for a fountain to conduct itself!
The splashing grew louder, then he heard the Zhadár calling down from the rooftops, and felt a wave swirl round his legs. In an instant it had pulled him off his feet and he disappeared into the water, spluttering madly.
Coïra opened her eyes, having felt something cold on her forehead. Mallenia was sitting next to her, wiping her face with a damp cloth. “This time you’re looking after me,” she said, weakly.
“You have heatstroke,” replied the Ido girl. “Rodario should have been taking better care of you.”
“You had a talk with him, I heard.”
Mallenia passed her something to drink. “I told him that we had agreed to share him.”
The maga felt giddy. “But he was not to be told anything at all!” she protested. “You’ve broken our agreement on purpose.”
“It didn’t make sense otherwise. One of these days he was going to work out for himself that we women had made common cause and that we were in charge, not him. He can take out his anger on me. It’s not your fault.”
Coïra sighed and emptied her glass. “So that’s why he was shouting.”
“He looked so cute,” the Ido girl said dreamily. “He was as helpless as a young child again. You would have given him to me straightaway if you’d seen him like that.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move in the shadows in a corner where a pile of bricks was stacked. Hadn’t they moved too? They seemed to have formed a little tower. She furrowed her brow. “It’s this confounded heat,” she said. “I can’t take the heat.”
“What did Rodario say?”
“He said he’d have to think about it.”
“I knew it! Now he’ll reject both of us!” Coïra sat up where she had been lying. “That really wasn’t very bright.”
“Keep calm,” Mallenia told her, clasping her hand. “He has a head on his shoulders and will soon realize what he is being offered. What we have offered him. If he throws this opportunity away, he’s too stupid to be companion to either of us.”
The maga thought hard, then smiled shyly. “Maybe. I don’t fancy stupid men.”
Mallenia caught another movement in the same corner.
The bricks were actually moving closer together. She stared at the place intently.
The bricks were forming stacks and piling up wildly. They shaped a leg, but then the supply ran out, so square bricks broke out of the wall as if following some silent command.
Coïra’s attention was caught by this movement, too. The brick creature was growing taller by the minute and, at the same time, the fabric of the walls was becoming steadily more damaged, until they started to cave in. Outside, the Zhadár were shouting.
Mallenia dragged the maga up, seeing giant cracks appear in the roof above their heads. “Let’s get out! Quick! The building’s going to collapse!”
The two girls ran to the door—but they were met by a wall of water with Rodario swimming within it, trying to get out.
The rear of the building crashed down.
“Get out through the window at the back,” the Ido ordered, tugging Coïra along. “Didn’t you say there was no magic here?”
The maga had no answer. The shock was overwhelming, as was the realization that she must bear the responsibility and guilt for allowing their party to walk into a trap.
XXVI
Girdlegard,
Former Queendom of Sangpur,
Southwest,
Spring, 6492nd Solar Cycle
“Is it still tailing us?” Ireheart turned left and found himself in a wider lane that seemed unfamiliar. How did that happen? They appeared to have got lost trying to escape. “This confounded maze!”
“No,” Slîn called out, bringing up the rear. “I can’t see it anymore.”
“I know why,” barked Balyndar, stopping in his tracks and grabbing Ireheart by the collar. “It’s in front of us!”
The creature made of shields, spears, daggers, knives, swords and countless other weapons rounded the corner. It had taken on a shape vaguely like a scorpion with six sets of pincers snapping open and shut.
“Charming,” said Slîn, pointing to the right. “Get in here. The alley will be too narrow for it.”
“Then it’ll just turn itself into a snake,” Ireheart replied in a fury. “It can pursue us wherever we go. Running away is no use at all.”
“Yes it is. It means we stay alive until we’ve thought of a way to outwit it,” wheezed the fourthling.
“Shoot it with your crossbow,” Balyndar snapped. “You’re never able to keep up with us, anyway.”
Ireheart was racking his brains. Only magic would get them out of this spot, but if they could not find their way back to the queen they were wasting their time. All this running was tiring them out and the steel creature would fall on them and scrape the flesh off their bones. He caught sight of his own crow’s beak dangling at the end of the poisonous sting. Balyndar’s morning star was next to it. “What works with iron?” he mused wildly, getting nowhere.
“Rust?” suggested Balyndar sarcastically.
“An enormous magnet,” said Slîn.
“Wh
at a great idea! And where do you propose we get one of those? Can you find us a pulling-stone big enough to attract and immobilize four hundred sackfuls of iron and steel?” the fifthling mocked.
“And what about the rust idea? Where’d you get that all of a sudden?” Slîn snarled back.
The creature was drawing close, so they had to charge on.
Ireheart thought the pulling-stone idea was not to be discounted. Such magnets were fashioned from a mineral that made most metals, including iron, stick to it. Only gold, silver and other precious metals were unaffected. But to stop this enemy we’d need a whole mountain of magnets. It’s a waste of time just hanging around waiting for a miracle. Time is one thing we don’t have.
“We split up,” he commanded.
“Won’t the creature just do the same?” whimpered Slîn. “You’re the only one of us with a weapon. All we can do is chuck stones at it.” Balyndar sounded as angry as Ireheart felt.
Then Slîn did something unexpected. He stopped, got down on one knee and lifted his crossbow. “Anybody know where a scorpion keeps its heart?” he asked, his voice determined, as he took aim at the creature, which was twirling its various weapons in the air and approaching fast. Its sword-legs scraped and clicked their way over the flagstones.
“Forget it: It’s hopeless. Come with us.” Ireheart was about to grab hold of him, but the fourthling shook his hand off.
“Just tell me where its heart will be.”
Balyndar picked up a rock and threw it at the creature. “It’s made of iron and magic! It can’t be shot down.”
They saw how the stone, shortly before hitting its target, was grabbed by the metal pincers and crushed.
“Ho, that’s my crow’s beak! You’ll ruin it if you use it on stone!” shouted Ireheart.
Slîn had made his decision. He pointed the device down slightly, aimed, concentrated and fired.