by Jack Conner
Ruegger regarded De Soto for a moment. He was a large man with thick black hair and a thick black beard, braided into fashionable tendrils. He looked to have been immortalized in his late forties.
“Good to meet you, Colonel.”
De Soto gave him a hard look. “I know who you are. I know what you’re up to. If I ever catch you even looking at my lord cross-eyed, you’ll find out where our torture chambers are. They don’t see much use these days, but they’re still operable.”
Ruegger didn’t reply, but he couldn’t help thinking it was the most contrived drivel he’d ever heard. Whatever De Soto was about, it wasn’t allegiance to his lord. What’s more, by the look on his face, Sarnova knew it.
“Are you through?” the Dark Lord said.
“Yes, sir. Is His Lordship ready to begin this venture?”
Sarnova regarded his colonel coldly, and though Ruegger knew he was missing something, it was pretty clear what the Dark Lord was trying to convey, and it went something like this: Watch yourself, Colonel, because I know something you don’t.
“Let’s begin,” said Sarnova.
A man leading a horse approached Ruegger and offered the Darkling its reins.
“Have you ridden before?” Sarnova asked.
“Not since they called me the Demon of the Mississippi.”
Though Ruegger hadn’t made a close inspection of the other horses, this one looked to be the runt. Small and shifty, it was the color of bad milk and didn’t smell much better—this as opposed to Sarnova’s beautiful black stallion. It didn’t matter. Ruegger had ridden much worse. He shoved a foot in the stirrups and threw himself into the saddle.
“Well?” asked Sarnova. “How is he?”
Ruegger started to answer, then realized that Sarnova had an ulterior motive for asking the question.
“She’s not much to look at,” Ruegger said, playing along.
“You’re right.” Sarnova turned to De Soto. “Colonel, get down off there. You and Ruegger are trading.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, my lord.”
“It’s not right that my successor rides a mount of inferior breed.”
De Soto glared at Ruegger, who said nothing. For a long moment, the Colonel refused to move, but at last he climbed down from his horse and they switched.
Sarnova seemed pleased, and when he nodded to Ruegger it was a gesture of thanks, which interested Ruegger. He didn’t know quite why, but it was obvious that De Soto and his king detested each other.
“How’s that one?” asked the Dark Lord.
Ruegger patted his big brown horse on the neck. “Much better.”
“Good. Now we have a chore to do.”
As Ruegger had expected, it was much colder outdoors. What surprised him was the moat; its waters were hot and boiling, giving off a ghostly heat that stripped the winter of its chill. It had been fashioned, he realized, out of a hot-water spring. Unlike many moats, it didn’t surround the castle, as the wide ledge that led up to the castle doors was the only level ground connected to the structure. The fortress was actually built into the wall of the mountain. Two sides of it bordered the precipice, one was completely buried in the mountain, and the fourth—the face of the castle as was originally intended—fronted the ledge. For its part, the ledge, probably a hundred feet wide at its broadest point, wound its way around the mountain and ended on the far side.
To ensure that an invading army could not penetrate the fortress, the moat was constructed and stocked with all sorts of vicious creatures, only some of which were mortal. Even as he watched, Ruegger saw movement beneath the surface and was tempted to ask one of the knights what manner of beasts lived there. Before he could phrase the question, the Dark Lord gestured for Ruegger to come to his side, and Ruegger obliged.
When Ruegger glanced back over his shoulder, he saw the other knights slow their mounts, giving him and their king privacy.
“Cold?” asked the king, as they left the moat behind.
“I’m fine. Can I ask you a question?”
“About the moat? It’s got some interesting points to it that you can’t really tell from here.”
“Not that. What I want to know is—well, what do I call you? I refuse to call you lord. You’re not my king. And you’re not my familiar, so I can’t call you Blackie like Kharker does. And I’m not exactly your enemy, so I can’t call you Blackie in the derogatory way your detractors do. What does that leave us?”
“Why don’t you just call me Roche? Is that something you can live with?”
“Roche,” Ruegger said, trying it out. “Roche … Yes, it will do.”
“As long as we’re on the topic, what do I call the man who’s going to be my successor shortly? Ruegger sounds too formal.”
“That’s my name.”
“What’s your first name?”
“That’s personal.”
“You’re superstitious, Ruegger. Knowledge is power, yes, but the whole idea that names are related to power is antiquated.”
“Roche Sarnova isn’t the name you were born with, was it?”
“I guess it wasn’t, at that. But I will tell you that name, if you’d like.”
“I don’t want to know. Listen, Roche, you seem like an okay guy, but as far as I know you had my best friend killed, so let’s not start taking showers together just yet.”
“Ruegger, I’m tired of this. I didn’t have Ludwig killed.”
“Then help me find out who did.”
“I am. That’s what this trip is all about.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were using the Libertarian Army to find his killer, right?”
“That was part of it.”
“You might just need that army yet to continue the quest. As it stands, that army is about to die. The reason I brought you out here is to save Maleasoel, Jean-Pierre, and the army of Liberty itself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A creature called the Sabo.”
* * *
As the Funhouse of the Forsaken performed the last half of the night’s show, Sophia helped the crew backstage. Mainly she just let the props master order her around, which meant that the larger portion of her responsibilities dealt with moving stuff. Though it wasn’t very rewarding work, she found it therapeutic. For the past few days, she’d been relieving her frustrations out on Dirk, the well-proportioned male she’d bought off the auction blocks, which under normal circumstances would’ve been all she required, but for some reason helping Claude’s crew filled a void she hadn’t realized in herself before.
Nevertheless, she was running a little ragged by the last half of the show, which is when Claude, in costume, walked over to her while she was transporting a small wooden hill and shook his head in frustration.
“Taurke and Rico have gone missing,” he said, scratching his scalp with one of his four hands. “You seen ‘em?”
“Who?”
“Taurke and Rico, you know them. Remember, last night?”
“Oh, right. The extras.”
“Well, they’re supposed to be in a scene coming up, but they’re nowhere to be found.”
“They’re probably off doing a few lines.”
“Nope. Already thought of that one.”
“Well, they’re around. I think I saw them just a few minutes ago.”
He placed two of his hands on his hips in a somewhat resigned gesture. “Sophe, they’re gone. The worst thing is, we can’t find Kaiphong or Vance, either. All four’ve just up and disappeared.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
He used his fourth hand to reach out and grab one of hers. Holding it tenderly, he said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, and I don’t want you back here with all these dark corners.”
“You’re being silly.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that something’s going on, and whatever it is I don’t want you close by if it happens again. Go in the dressing room and find someone to get you a costu
me; I want you out there, on stage, where there’ll be witnesses.”
“Is this a promotion?”
“That’s up to Max. If you do good as an extra, maybe he’ll let you read a few lines for him. Problem is, though ...”
She nodded. I can’t be a star because I’m not a freak. “Talk about reverse discrimination.”
Patting her on the thigh, he said, “Get dressed, doll. At the party tonight, we’ll hook up. Till then, watch your back, okay?”
By the time Claude had sauntered off to get made-up, her mind had become engaged in thoughts very unlike the Sophia he knew. They were primal and they were dark, and they were very, very cold.
* * *
Ruegger and Sarnova stopped before a large boulder, twice the height of the Darkling even on horseback. They’d gotten here by following the ledge as it wound around to the other side of the mountain, where it became a trail. The far side of the mount (which Ruegger had always envisioned to be just as sheer and stark as the one in which the castle was planted) was characterized by wooded areas and a more gentle slope.
In some places, there had been rockslides, and if appearance was any judge these avalanches were regular occurrences; Ruegger could see older layers of rocks buried beneath the newer ones. In some places, certain rock formations that in the past had prevented an avalanche from going any farther didn’t look as if they would survive much longer. However, in one place, a large boulder seemed to have withstood the onslaught. Half buried in a short, steep slope itself half-covered in scree, it stuck out proudly.
“So behind that stone is a tunnel that leads into the catacombs?” Ruegger said. “That’s the secret entrance?” Off Sarnova’s nod, he added, “And somewhere between this entrance and the catacombs is this creature of yours.”
“The Sabo.”
Ruegger lit a cigarette and leaned back in his saddle, savoring being outdoors. It was cold, but at the same time he wished Danielle could be here to see it with him. The snow-covered mountain top with misty white peaks glimmering through the pale veil all around was quite beautiful. Hard to imagine that just behind that boulder lurked a terror even Roche Sarnova seemed in awe of.
“Tell me about this thing,” he said.
For some reason, that relaxed the Dark Lord. “Here’s the story. The Sabo—which is what I first heard it called, although I don’t think it calls itself anything in particular—is not like anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s a living maze.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Sabo not only creates the maze, but it lives in the labyrinth—is a part of it.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Ruegger said.
“It’s intelligent, but not like we are. Its mind doesn’t process information the same way ours do. In a way, it’s kind of insectile. To it, we’re just food.”
“Even you?”
“No,” the Dark Lord said. “I’m the one that rescued it. Without me, humans would’ve discovered it and destroyed it. It’s their way, not that I blame them, at least in this. But when I saw humanity becoming so spread-out—and especially at the first hint of mass media—I had the Sabo brought here to begin a new labyrinth. Here it would be safe and I could keep an eye on it. It’s ambitious, don’t let it fool you. It would make itself known to humanity, as it did once before.”
“What happened then?”
“Long story. The point is that, no matter how strong it is, humans could find a way to destroy it—and if they didn’t, it would be to their detriment. So I brought it here, figuring I could use it to guard my emergency escape route.”
“What is it, exactly? What does it live off of—blood, brain fluid, hearts, flesh, semen—what?”
“Fear.”
“Fear?”
“From what I know about it, yes,” said Sarnova. “That’s why it creates the maze.”
“To trap its victims, right. Then what? Does it just let them run around, trying to find their way out until they die?”
“Sometimes. Usually the parasites get to them first.”
“The parasites.”
“They’re creatures that live within the labyrinth and feed off of the people that get trapped there. The Sabo allows them only because they enhance the fear of its victims.”
Ruegger frowned. “This is where the Libertarians will try to enter the Castle.”
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
“No. If you enter it with me, it would assume you to be my ally and in the future would leave you unharmed if you tried to use it.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“Not a bit.”
“Is that what you came out here to tell me, that you don’t trust the man you want to be your heir?” Ruegger said.
“I wanted to tell you about the Sabo so that you would realize the danger the Libertarians are in. After that, you’d leave some signal to warn them off.”
“So,” Ruegger said slowly, “on the strength of what you’ve just told me, the existence of a creature you won’t allow me to examine, you expect me to call off the attack against you—the one thing that if successful might get you to answer the truth about Ludwig’s death. Is that right?”
“The Sabo will kill them, Ruegger. It’s your duty to your friend and her army to lead them away from a trap, which is exactly what the Sabo is. The last time I entered it, the labyrinth was eight stories tall and very wide … and full of parasites.”
Ruegger passed a hand across his face. “I need to see this thing.”
With a snap of his fingers, the Dark Lord summoned a knight, who held the reins of his reserve horse. With a slight bow, the knight handed the reins to his king and withdrew.
Ruegger could see Colonel De Soto on his stumpy horse, and though the faceplate of his helmet concealed the colonel’s expression Ruegger could feel the man’s scowl nonetheless. For his own reasons, De Soto didn’t like this knight displaying such deference to Roche Sarnova, even though the knights as a whole seemed to hold the colonel in some regard.
Unsmiling, Sarnova examined the animal for a moment, then turned his eyes on Ruegger. “This horse will go into the tunnel, where it will be killed inside the Sabo. If you let yourself see through its eyes, you’ll catch a brief glimpse of one of the strangest creatures in our realm. The only one of its kind that I know of.” He gestured to the boulder. “Would you like to do the honors?”
Ruegger hesitated. On the one hand, he knew that he could lift the rock, but on the other he wasn’t so sure he wanted the Dark Lord to know what he was capable of.
“Ruegger,” said Sarnova, who looked slightly amused. “You don’t have to pretend around me. Besides, I’d expect any shade worth his salt to be able to lift it.”
Ruegger used his mindthrust to roll the big stone out from where it was lodged, and as it rolled forward, it displaced smaller rocks, which tumbled over each other like pups fighting over a teat. They kicked up a cloud of snow and dust, momentarily obscuring the slope.
As this cloud died down, a thin ring of black appeared behind the boulder, hinting at the tunnel beyond.
Ruegger let the rocks settle for a few seconds, then lifted the boulder high into the air, over the heads of the assembled knights, and as the rock passed over, it temporarily blocked out the night sky. He could feel other psychic talons hovering close by just in case he decided to set his payload down on the king. Using all the grace he cared to grant the job, Ruegger placed the boulder in the middle of a large nest of bushes.
“Well done,” said Sarnova.
Ruegger blew out a stream of smoke. “If we’re going to kill the poor horse, let’s do it now before I have to think too long about it.”
“Here goes.”
The animal crept up to the mouth of the tunnel, now revealed as a hole ten feet in diameter, and hesitated before entering. Throwing down his cigarette, Ruegger extended his mind into that of the animal and prodded it forward, into blackness.
* * *
Nevertheless, she enjoyed taking a more active role, despite the fact that she didn’t really know what the hell she was doing. And though her part (if it could be called that) was so meager it might as well not have been at all, she felt a rush of adrenaline at performing in front of a large number of people; it wasn’t something she’d done in quite a while.
When the show ended (to the great relief of everyone, audience included) she joined hands with the rest of the cast and crew and bowed. The clapping wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there. When the curtains closed for the final time, no one shouted for an encore.
Afterwards, Sophia helped the rest of the troupe clean up, a procedure which seemed slow and ever-more depressing as the realization of what had happened sunk into the collective consciousness of the troupe and its hangers-on.
When the clean-up was complete, the mood seemed to shift to the satisfaction of just being alive. By the time she slipped back into her party clothes for the now-famous Post-Show Blow-Out—which had become a nightly event in the Castle—the general mood had ripened into anticipation.
The troupe and its groupies migrated upstairs to the warren of rooms they occupied, and Sophia saw that her group wasn’t the first to arrive, but it quickly became apparent that tonight’s celebration would be delayed—if it occurred at all.
The rooms were now a crime scene.
At the entrance, several Castle Guards interviewed those who had arrived early and allowed themselves to be cornered. Those that had had the foresight to evade the Guards wandered in and out of the main doorway, talking amongst themselves. Of these, Maximillian seemed the most moved, although he channeled his emotion into anger.
Sophia marched up to him until she was so close that her presence forced him to forget exactly what he’d been yelling about to the unfortunate underling at his side. Quick to recognize that an escape was possible, the underling disappeared into the general milieu.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Sophia demanded.