by Jack Conner
* * *
At first glance Junger and Jagoda appeared to be standing. As Ruegger drew closer, he saw that the two assassins sat astride the heavily finned backs of two mud-sharks, themselves half submerged in the ground. The bastards liked a throne even here.
“Well met!” called Junger to Maleasoel, and Jagoda echoed the sentiment with a cheery “Good morning!”
She stopped at a point about five yards from them. “What’s the point of this meet? Before you’ve always preferred I send Captain D’Aguila to you; why the change?”
Both Balaklava looked to Ruegger. “Him,” they said in unison. They waved at him, smiling their wicked smiles.
“Yes, I’ve seen what you’ve done to him, and an old friend of mine at that. Did you want me close so I could whip you both personally? Is that the point of this meeting?”
They laughed. “Dear sweet Mistress Malie,” cooed Jagoda. “How you tease and amuse us. But no. That is not the point of this meeting, although ... if you desired ... I’m sure we could give you great pleasure.” Even his thick dreadlocks could not hide his big sharp animal-like teeth.
“Please,” she said in a disgusted voice. “The fact of the matter is you tried to bring harm to an old and dear friend of mine, and now I demand answers.”
“Oooh, she demands!” The bearded one turned an eye to his mate. “What say we?”
“We say that our actions need not be defended,” said Junger. “We wished to prevent Ruegger from reaching you, Mistress Malie, because we knew he desired only to spread lies and discontent among you and your army. He wishes for us to fight amongst ourselves so his dear king can win the day.”
“So you tried to kill him?” asked Maleasoel, hands on hips.
“No. But we did seek to capture him a time or two.” Junger smiled at Ruegger, and Ruegger felt chills run up his spine at the perverted intimacy in that smile. “We found him a worthy foe, through and through, but now he has come into your home, dear Mistress, and has he not sought to sow the seeds of doubt in your mind?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
Ruegger couldn’t stand this any longer. “I told her the truth,” he said. “I told her you’d lied and manipulated her from the very beginning.”
The assassins raised their eyebrows. “Did you now?” said Junger. “How surprising.”
“Yes,” agreed the other. “I guess we shouldn’t have given him such a hard time getting here after all. Hell, we should’ve escorted him arm in arm!”
Together, they laughed. Ruegger’s hatred of them swelled with each note, and he saw Maleasoel shift uncomfortably on her feet.
“Well?” she demanded of the Balaklava. “Does he speak the truth or not? Have you really been lying to me?”
Slowly, the assassins stopped laughing and regarded her with some seriousness. “No,” said Jagoda. “We’ve told you true, and we wish no disrespect upon Ruegger by saying this. He, too, was telling you the truth—but only as he knows it. He doesn’t see the whole story, doesn’t see the big picture for the frame. He believes us evil since we delight in our natures while he rejects his, choosing to sacrifice himself rather than spill innocent blood. He sees us as alien, and evil, and in his arrogant self-righteousness wishes to squash us. Why? Because his morals imprison him, while our amorality liberates us. He’s grown to hate and resent us, as he sees in us what he could have been. Should have been. And now he desires to turn you against us, to satisfy his own narrow vision of the world.”
The bearded one fell silent and Ruegger knew the assassin intended to let his words sink into Maleasoel’s brain for awhile before continuing. If Ruegger was to salvage this situation, he couldn’t allow Malie to take what they said for truth.
“Bullshit,” he said.
Jagoda blinked.
Before they could reclaim Malie’s attention, Ruegger said, “They’re doing it again, Mal. Don’t let them.”
“Let them do what?”
“Turn you against me. Don’t you see? They’re—”
But the Balaklava were not about to allow him the upper hand. “Yes, Darkling,” hissed Junger pleasantly. “What were we going to do? Tell the Mistress nothing she couldn’t have figured out on her own? Oh, Ruegger. You’re good, but not that good. You can only mask the truth for a time—and that’s a very short limit indeed when you’re trying to delude someone of our dear sweet Mistress’s intelligence.”
“Shut up, all of you,” she said. “All of you jackasses are lying to me. Junger, Jagoda, you’re trying to get me to do what you want me to do. You’re trying to turn me against Ruegger. And you, Ruegger, are doing the same thing, turning me against them. But you know what? I don’t care. I don’t believe any of you.
“All I believe is what I’ve found out for myself, that all those I’ve suspected of plotting Ludwig’s murder were innocent. The only ones who’d know for sure why he died are him, and you,” she said to the assassins. “You’ve told me your version of the story. I didn’t believe you then, and Ruegger’s certainly planted enough doubts in my mind about you, but it doesn’t matter. Why? Because Roche Sarnova is the last one on my list, and that’s all there is to it. If I could have, I would’ve long ago had you two bastards tortured and interrogated, like I did Subaire and Ikaud and Kharker, but I’ve never had that opportunity. I’ll proceed as planned, as much to avenge Ludwig as to take over the Castle itself.”
“And what of Subaire? We thought you were going to concede the Castle to her, or at least not make her an enemy. Have your plans changed?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with Subaire, but I am going to make a play for the Castle.”
“And us?”
“Our original agreement stands. You can have the Sabo, and the catacombs, and anything else below the Castle you want. And maybe if I grow weary of the Castle, you can have that, too.”
“Well, now,” said Junger. “All we really wanted was the Labyrinth. But you’re right, maybe we could extend it to the catacombs ... and beyond. I suspect your offer is in payment for something, perhaps future services we might provide you. Services against Subaire.”
“Yes,” she said. “Everything else goes according to the original plan, but once the Castle’s conquered, will you assist me in Subaire’s removal?”
The assassins considered, conferring with each other silently, through looks and tiny hand gestures.
They smiled at her.
“How can we be sure that you will not later turn on us, as you will so shortly turn on Subaire?”
“Because I haven’t the resources to turn on you. You’re too strong, too well-fortified and protected. Once I have the Castle, there’s nothing I could do to clear you out of the Sabo. Nor would I wish to. Subaire’s an ally I can turn on at my whim, since I really don’t need her after the fact. You two, however, will be a presence to discourage anyone from attacking me while I restore and claim the Castle in my name. For that, you’ll always be valuable to me, and I will always be valuable to you, as I will not attack you so long as I inhabit the Castle. Were someone else to take it from me, they might attempt to remove you. They would find it difficult, maybe impossible, but nevertheless they could do you serious damage if they were intent on it. There. I need you, and you need me. Is there any more that needs to be said?”
“No,” answered the tusked one. “We’ll help you with Subaire and her army once the Castle forces have been eliminated.” He paused. “Now for the reason why we called this meeting. For the sake of our continued good faith and alliance, we need to relieve you of Ruegger.”
“What?”
“You heard right, Mistress Maleasoel. As long as he’s within earshot of you, he’ll riddle you with half-truths and seek to undermine the alliance between our armies.”
“Malie,” Ruegger began, but she waved him to silence. He wasn’t all that surprised by the Balaklava’s deception, but he suddenly feared that he’d pushed Malie too hard, had made himself a nuisance to her rather than the kind and fri
endly mentor he had intended to be.
“If I said that I wouldn’t give Ruegger to you, what would you do?”
Without hesitation, Jagoda said, “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“To know would require a demonstration, and we will not demonstrate until you decide against handing him over.”
“What do you mean, a demonstration?”
“Just that. We will have Ruegger, with your permission. Now, you can give us that permission now ... or refuse us now, and, after the demonstration, then give it to us.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourselves. How do I know you’re not bluffing?”
Junger cocked an eyebrow. “Are you refusing to give us Ruegger?”
She turned it over. “If I concede, what will you do with him?”
“Oh, he’ll be just fine, sweet Mistress. Have no fear. We need Ruegger alive. Now, we might weaken him a little, to save ourselves the trouble of constantly worrying about whether he’s trying to communicate with his mortal friends above, but otherwise he’ll be fine. So is it a deal?”
“No,” said Ruegger. “Malie, you can’t—”
“Shut up!” she said. “I’m perfectly able to think for myself. But no. A few minutes ago I was so disgusted with you that I would’ve been happy to hand you over to these pricks, but now they’ve given me a threat, and that I can’t tolerate. Call me petty, but I refuse to be bullied or bluffed into doing something that I would’ve done on my own had not the bullies and bluffs been there to start with.” She snorted in the direction of the Balaklava. “You can’t have him.”
In concert, they both gave her light-hearted shrugs and smiled helplessly. “You’re calling our bluff, aye, Mistress?”
“Goddamn right.”
“Very well, then.”
Ruegger heard shouts and screaming noises behind him. There was brief gunfire, and a voice shouted at whoever had fired the gun, “Don’t shoot the nukes, you stupid fuck! Cease fire, cease fire!”
Ruegger peered inside the three rings of soldiers that guarded Maleasoel’s inner court—three rings that were presently in great turmoil. Suddenly, several messengers broke free of the melee and ran across the chamber toward Maleasoel. The three spoke up fast, vying for her attention and favor even now.
“Quiet,” she said. “What’s going on? You, tell me.”
The messenger she’d indicated took a deep breath. “Mud-sharks, ma’am. They came up, swallowed the tactical nukes and disappeared.” The man pointed an accusing finger at Junger and Jagoda. “They’ve stolen them from us, Mistress!”
Maleasoel spun about. “You bastards!”
“You called us on it,” Junger said. “We gave you a choice; you picked wrong.”
“If your fucking parasites damage my nukes, our alliance is off, right here and now.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie. Our children are handling your weapons of mass destruction with the greatest care, I assure you. And they will be happy to return said weapons back to you ... once you’ve given us Ruegger.”
She looked to him and this time did not look away. He said nothing, just hoped that half a century of friendship would count for something. She let out a breath.
“Fine,” she spat. “Just give me my damned nukes back and you can have him.”
At that moment, two mud-sharks surfaced, face-up, not ten yards away. They opened their mouths and extended their tongues to reveal the intact crates that rested atop the gray-pink muscles.
“There’s your weapons, Mistress,” said Jagoda. “Now ... Ruegger.”
“Just get your worms to set those crates down carefully.”
The parasites sank slowly back into the ground, the earth closing over them as they disappeared, so that at last all that remained of them above-ground were those two thick and sickly tongues, and the crates perched on them.
“Get them,” said Maleasoel, and several of her soldiers bolted over and, very gingerly, removed the crates from the tongues, which vanished back into the ground. The soldiers checked the hardware inside the crates and turned to Maleasoel.
“One’s missing,” said a soldier. “Three are here, but the fourth is gone.”
She glared at the Balaklava, but they just smiled. “We’ll keep one of your weapons as a token of good faith,” Jagoda said. “We’ve left you three. Surely that’s enough. We could not let you have them all, and we none. Maybe we’ll give it back to you once the battle is over, if you haven’t turned on us by then.”
“Goddamn you.”
They shrugged.
Ruegger could tell that her adrenaline level had skyrocketed in the last minute and further that these weapons were very important to her. He wondered if that meant she intended to actually use them.
When she had control of her temper, she said to the Balaklava. “So. That was your demonstration.”
“Was it effective?”
She nodded wordlessly, then gestured to Ruegger. “He’s yours.” To her soldiers, she said, “All right, let’s get out of here.” She cast one last look at Ruegger. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
She snorted, steeling herself against any emotional involvement. “Be well,” she said by way of parting, and without another word pivoted and headed her soldiers back to her inner court, tactical nuclear weapons in tow. Then she was gone.
Slowly, Ruegger turned around to face Junger and Jagoda, who smiled at him as if they were all old friends.
Jagoda steepled his fingers below his bearded chin and said, “So now you’re ours.” He made a great show of licking his lips and teeth. “Ours,” he said again. He shared a look with the other. “Brother, I think we’re going to enjoy this.”
They started to laugh.
“No,” said Ruegger, and shot them a grin so wicked it put theirs to shame. “I don’t think so.”
Suddenly all the anger he’d kept bottled inside him rose to the surface, and he endeavored to use every bit of power he still retained to fight these bastards. It struck him that, at no moment in time had anyone thought to remove his weapons from his body, and he knew with certainty that he could inflict much damage; if he was to be taken, it wouldn’t be without a fight.
Swiftly and without much thought, he lifted his left arm and the dagger still residing in his sleeve shot out at full speed. The Balaklava were not prepared.
Before they could marshal a defense, the blade cut through Jagoda’s thick dreadlocks and through his throat. Even as Junger cried out in anger, Jagoda’s head fell heavily to the floor and blood spurted out of his topless neck like lava from a volcano.
One down, one to go.
The blade spun around and drove toward the tusked one. Junger caught the weapon in both hands, but Ruegger didn’t release his hold on the blade. He kept pushing it to slice at the one who held it.
The score of well-kept zombies that had been guarding the Balaklava descended on the Darkling, but by this time Ruegger was as prepared as he could be. He held one pistol in his hand and all of his other firearms (an even half dozen) hung suspended in midair, gripped by his mindthrust. The guns crashed, pelting the deaders. Buzzing around the flying guns was a swarm of clips, ready to be taken by a hungry gun when its own ammunition had expired.
With grim satisfaction, Ruegger watched as the wave of animated corpses descend on him only to have their heads explode in colorful showers of gore. Within seconds, all twenty zombies lay dead at or around Ruegger’s feet.
Junger, meanwhile, had hopped off his mud-shark throne and, still holding the Darkling’s dagger out from him as far as he could, advanced on Ruegger. The assassin’s face was livid, but from rage at the Darkling’s audacity or in simple mourning for Jagoda Ruegger could not tell.
Ruegger’s floating arsenal tore into the Balaklava, but the bullets hardly slowed him.
Ruegger felt vibrations in the ground beneath him and knew mud-sharks were on the way. But the Balaklava would not be so easily saved.
—and was immediately seized by the Collage.
Caught in its huge pincer, he didn’t have the strength to resist. He knew he could turn his guns on the beast itself, but he preferred they kept tearing at Junger. Perhaps if he could weaken the assassin enough, the Balaklava’s grip on the Collage would falter.
Ruegger ran out of bullets.
Not wasting any more effort at suspending the pistols in midair, he let them drop and, with renewed effort, forced the blade to cut deeper into Junger’s palms.
Beaten and savaged as he was, the assassin was a powerful telekinetic still, and Ruegger could have no hope of beheading this one. Just the same, it was reassuring to know that Junger’s mindthrust was no more powerful than his own; if it had been Ruegger’s equal, or better, than they wouldn’t be engaged in such an odd Mexican standoff.
The pincer squeezed tighter about Ruegger, cracking ribs.
Well, then. Not so much of a standoff at all.
Ruegger tried to prize the pincer open, but it barely budged. Against the Collage, he had little hope, unless—
At the last moment, his plan was tossed aside, for the great limb, composed entirely of humans and shades, did something Ruegger had not expected. It bent one of its many joints and thrust the struggling vampire against its hide.
Hands and claws raked at him, and one large werewolf tried to rip off his face. Ruegger’s one arm held them at bay. The roiling, ever-moving mass of the Collage’s hide shifted, parting to expose a rift in the creature Ruegger hadn’t noticed before, and the pincer stuffed him into the cavity. The roiling wall of its hide shut closed behind him.
Desperate, Ruegger glared all around this strange cave but saw no humans or any other living being, except on the outer wall that was closed to him.
“Shit.”
He stepped forward and his eyes picked up new details. The chamber was dark, tubular, and seemed to be made out of … stone? Yes, and there stalactites leered down from the ceiling, and stalagmites rose mightily from the stone floor.