Here Be Dragons

by Bill Fawcett

  I shuddered. His eyes seemed inhuman, though I knew that there was nothing visibly strange about his gaze. I wondered if I was getting sick. It happened once during the Plague. I’d rather not remember, thank you very much.

  Anyway, driving a person to insanity is not an easy thing to do. It helps to become familiar with the workings of his or her mind. For Wanda, there were many phobias I could exploit—knowing that she had a fear of spiders, for instance, had allowed me to really freak her out by penetrating her mind and making her believe she was in a veritable river of tarantulas, black widows, and daddy longlegs (daddy longlegs totally give me the creeps ... strange, I know, since I flit about with pet snakes in my hair).

  I generally spend about an hour or so scoping the mind of a person before ever revealing myself to them, but I got the strangest sense that Brian was not only aware of my presence, but privy to something I wasn’t.

  Either that or I was hallucinating from bad coffee.

  Whatever the reasons, I found myself terrified of the task before me. Still, I picked my way through the crowd in his direction trying to appear nonchalant. The crowd parted around him like a boulder in a stream. Though I deliberately watched the glass elevators sweep up and down, chock full of strange creatures, I could feel his unnatural stare boring into me.

  The closer I got, the louder my heart echoed in my ears. Soon I was only a few feet away from him. I forced myself to look at him. He stared back at me unblinkingly. I felt as if we were engaging in some juvenile game of “Don’t Blink.” I mustered up my toughest Fury stare while he sat unperturbed by a look that had sent many a king over the edge. I didn’t know whether I should run screaming in the night, or beat the shit out of him.

  I decided to dazzle him with the power of my intellect instead. “What are you looking at?” Brilliant. I know.

  He stared at me wordlessly. I’d like to think I humbled him with my withering cross examination, but I was the one more creeped out by him. It made no sense—I regularly had afternoon tea with the desperate housewives of Hades (a really scary bunch, I might add). Yet this guy, who looked about as threatening as a mayonnaise sandwich, set my teeth on edge and strummed every nerve in my body. I decided to ratchet up my verbal assault on the man. “Well? Cat got your tongue?”

  “Not really.”

  Well, at least he said something. But it didn’t exactly shed light on the situation. Was he being sarcastic? I found myself to be a curious blend of pissed-off and fearful. I scolded myself for letting my emotions get the better of me—it’s not like I didn’t serve up my victims with a side dish of smart ass. I mean, come on, I called myself a Happy Harvester just hours earlier. Wouldn’t you want to smack me around if given the chance?

  Okay, so friendly chit-chat was not going to work with Brian here. I decided to expedite the process by entering his mind and toying with it a bit. I closed my eyes and soon my vision was his: I could feel every fluctuation of his emotions as if they were my own; I could feel the snugness of his too-small loafers; I could taste the spaghetti he had eaten last night and could feel the nagging hunger that accompanied his lack of eating today. And as I began to settle myself smugly in the corner of his mind and familiarize myself with his darkest fears, I was suddenly and brutally evicted from his thoughts. I surged back into my own body and staggered backwards into a passing werewolf that grunted indignantly.

  I was naturally surprised—that had never happened before—and I knew my eyes were as wide as saucers as I gaped at him. He actually looked a bit shocked himself, though I could not tell if his surprise was an indication that he was aware of my intrusion or surprised at the flailing about that I did as I was expelled from his mind. I had looked about as graceful as an epileptic at a disco.

  I gritted my teeth and tried to reenter his mind, only to find some sort of barrier preventing my entrance. I had absolutely no explanation for this. Even incredibly strong minds melted at my touch. And here I was, being bested by a mere human, a human of no great importance.

  Could he be protected by some divine right? Athena had protected Orestes from our wrath—but only when Orestes had prayed to Apollo, who had ordered Orestes to murder his mother. Every now and then, Hades granted clemency, but no one in the last few hundred years had been protected or had bested us. I had difficulty with the idea that a man of such unassuming demeanor could shatter my hot streak.

  Couldn’t he at least be dressed as a Pirate?

  “What are you?” My voice was not particularly loud amidst the roar of the crowd, but he somehow heard me.

  “My name is—”

  “I know what your name is. You are Brian Fawcett, and you killed your brother. You were born on November seventh, nineteen fifty seven. You used to have two siblings, but your younger sister drowned when you were six. Your alcoholic father died in a car accident when you were seventeen. You and your older brother moved to Indianapolis. The two of you enrolled in a community college and worked in various janitorial positions until you graduated. Near the end of college, you fell in love with a woman named Diane, who you dated for some time. She left you when you were twenty-six. You killed your brother when you were twenty-seven. I don’t know why. Did I miss anything?” I smirked, confident that I had shaken his psyche enough to elicit some surprised response. I had not been in his mind for long, but in that short term I had gleaned the general outline of his life.

  The smirk fell from my face when he merely laughed brazenly and shook his head.

  “Wrong, wrong, and did I mention wrong? Although bonus points for getting the killing my brother part right, which is the reason I got this job in the first place, but I digress. We were talking about why you were confusing me with someone else, Megaera.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. I did not know how he knew my name, or what else about me he could possibly know. Icy trepidation gripped my heart. Not only had my principal weapons been ineffectual against him, the attempt at reading his thoughts backfired big time.

  I said something that sounded like “gaaa,” another sterling example of my loquaciousness. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening, much less form a coherent sentence.

  “So, Megaera, if you are here to kill me, you should perhaps pursue a different strategy. You’ll find my thoughts aren’t so easily fragmented as hers.” He gestured vaguely in the direction where Wanda had lain.

  Another chill shook me. He knew precisely what I was doing here and what had already been done here. What was I supposed to do with this guy if he had the power to block my primary attack? I wondered if he infiltrated my own thoughts, but I definitely would have been able to detect such an intrusion. Besides, I had wards set up to protect myself from an assault. One perk of working for an all-powerful deity like Hades is that his health insurance policy is pretty damn comprehensive.

  “What are you?” At least I’d graduated from “gaaa.” Making progress here.

  “My name is not Brian Fawcett—he doesn’t exist. As you’ve probably deduced, those who call me human are flexibly using the term. My name is Karian, and we work for the same person—Hades.”

  “Ha!” It sounded as loud and fake to my own ears, as it must have to his. I knew he spoke the truth despite the fact that I had never heard of “Karian.” I said as much.

  He smiled knowingly but joylessly. “No human and very few deities have heard of me. I work in the shadows. My task is to find the deities who try and run ...”

  I laughed that high nervous thing I had just developed. “Oh, so you’re sort of a LoJack for the Gods? A GPS for deities on the run?” I tried to smile to show him how cool I was, but I’m pretty sure it looked like a grimace. Still, I pushed on. “Oops. Kinda messed up here, ol’ Karian, I’m not lost or running. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Let me finish. I’m also here to dispatch those who displease Hades.”

  My heart literally crash-dive
d into my gut.

  He continued, “I have killed men and gods. In some ways, I am like you, with different tactics and slightly different objectives. I don’t often do things for Hades, since rarely does he care enough to kill someone without being able to do it himself. But he’s busy, as you know—which is why he sent me here.” His tone had become hard and icy, and fear ignited, hot and fast, in my chest.

  I hadn’t done a thing to incur Hades’ wrath. I opened my mouth to object but, before I could, I felt a crushing blow in my gut. He hadn’t so much as lifted a finger when I found myself lifted off my feet and barreling through the crowd. I landed on my back a few yards away. Gasping for breath, I lifted myself slowly to my feet. Well, that was fun!

  Karian had not moved the entire time, but he now stepped forward so that he was about a yard away from me. The crowd peered at us curiously and, although many continued with their business, many more stopped to find out what was happening.

  “You may be asking yourself, ‘Oh Gods, why me?’ I suppose I should grace you with an explanation, if only so your damned soul does not haunt me from the Underworld. You know as well as I do that Hades demands unequivocal, unwavering, unquestioning allegiance—which is why I am carrying out this task, though I must admit a small part of me is remorseful. We have observed your last few missions, and it has become clear to us that you are not committed to your objectives.”

  “Wait a minute, Hades is firing me because I don’t have a ‘go get ’em sport’ attitude?”

  “Putting it crudely, yes.”

  “So it’s not enough to dispatch my target with brutal efficiency; instead he wants me to turn a few cartwheels and wave my pom-poms after I execute them? Am I hearing you correctly?”

  Karian shook his head. “We know you wonder why you must fracture the sanity of a woman like Wanda; I know you wonder why what she did was so bad; I know you thought her grandfather, who raped her and killed a friend of hers, deserved death; I know you questioned why you were commanded to kill someone like Wanda when men like her grandfather eluded your wrath.”

  “Maybe Hades needs to think outside the box, been hanging out in Hades—oh wait, his namesake—a little too long. I ask you, Karian, who is more dangerous, a homicidal pedophile or a woman who killed her rapist relative?”

  “You exist only to avenge the kindred souls who were murdered.” His blue eyes were as steely as arctic ice. “Our Lord is all-knowing. He has concluded that it would not be long before you wavered from your task, from your ruthlessness—after all, you almost decided not to pursue Brian. Hades is not willing to tolerate such disloyalty, and though you have not yet faltered, you will.”

  “So I’m to be executed on a hunch?”

  “Precisely.”

  “You know that’s just swell. Really marvelous.” I was stalling. My thoughts scatter-shot in a million directions. Think. It’s not like I could plead with him when he had a contract with Hades for my life. I knew that the only way I would survive is by besting Karian in combat. That would be tricky since he had the blessing of Hades and I no longer did. I needed a plan yesterday. I thought about contacting my sisters, but tossed that idea out pretty quickly. All messages to them were channeled through the Underworld, and Hades would surely intercept them and manipulate them.

  It also meant that my mind was no longer protected by Hades, and hence if it was within Karian’s power he would know precisely every action I was to take and easily defeat me. He gave no indication that he was aware of my thoughts, however; and it occurred to me that his intimacy with my history had nothing to do with reading my thoughts but rather knowledge granted him by Hades. If I was wrong, I was doomed either way. If I was right, I had a chance of survival, however remote.

  The crowd around us apparently thought this was some kind of act. While a few people had grown bored and moved on, far more had gathered to watch. A few even laughed at the vicious scowl I shot at Karian. I even heard a portly man in a shiny suit of armor murmur a remark to his horse-faced queen of a companion about what a talentless actress I was. I memorized his face so I could knock his teeth out at my leisure should I survive. I launched myself into the air and my fox-red hair fell away as my body contorted into its natural shape. Wings sprung out of my back and I flew into the center of the room. The crowd oohed and aahed at this stunning display of special effects.

  Karian stared at me passively, shrugged, and mimicked my display, though perhaps even more impressively. His entire skin seemed to shed away as he leapt into the air, a dark being emerged from his body. He was the picture of dead: his eyes glowed a flashing red, and he looked unlike any creature I had ever seen. His skin was as black as coal and he unsheathed enormous, terrifying claws. His wings were broad and leathery, like a bat’s, and his head was reptilian and slimy. He was more repulsive than any creature I’d seen at DragonCon, even nastier than that teenage boy who approached me earlier, and that was saying a lot.

  He flew until he was level with me and snorted. His voice was now darker and deeper. It sent shivers down my spine.

  “You think that you can possibly defeat me? I once bested Ares in a sparring match. You are only further violating the code you’ve sworn to—these mortals must now perish to obviate the damage you’ve done.” His voice was calm, but it felt like he was snarling at me.

  I wasn’t one to balk at death. Matter of fact, I pick on the humans about their lack of composure when facing their own mortality. But maybe I’d been a little hard on them; now my ass was on the line. Score one for the humans.

  Still, I wouldn’t go down without a fight even though I was keenly aware of the power that reverberated from him. My primary weapon was to use a man against himself, to drive him to take his own life. I couldn’t do that against a being of Karian’s potency. I surveyed my surroundings to see if I could discern any way to use the terrain to my advantage. No brilliant strategy came to mind. Just great.

  Shrugging, I peered through the crowd of police officers and role players. I sent out powerful mental messages to a policeman leaning against a wall gawking at me, as well as a man with a katana that I recognized as the one who felt Wanda’s pulse. I worked quickly, distorting their reality and pleading with them to toss me their weapons.

  The policeman hesitatingly removed his pistol from its holster and lobbed it at me, looking bewildered as he did it. The man with the katana was equally befuddled, but he threw the sword in my direction. I caught both and immediately began firing the gun at Karian, who seemed surprised at the sudden assault. Several bullets bored into his body and he snarled in pain, but to my horror the holes made by my attack quickly disappeared as his body regenerated itself. After discharging all my ammunition, Karian looked as if he had been unaffected by my strike. I let the gun fall from my hand into the now-entranced crowd of people, and braced myself as Karian launched himself at me.

  I swung the katana at him as he came, but he only grabbed the blade and snapped it like a twig. I had no time to react, as he seized me and crashed me into a wall. The wind knocked from my body and my teeth snapped shut with such force that I saw stars. He sank his teeth into my shoulder. I moaned at the intense pain that wracked my body, and my vision became blurred as his claws sliced at my neck. Gritting my teeth, I pushed him with all my force, while slamming my knee into his groin. He screeched, but released me. I spun away and resumed flight, looking over my shoulder at Karian, who was slowly turning around.

  My blood was running freely and dripped over the crowd as I soared above them. Everyone still seemed to believe this was some sort of show, albeit the best one they’d ever seen. I had now realized that in straight combat, there was absolutely no chance of my defeating Karian. He was extremely powerful, and it had taken all my strength just to defend against his onslaught. There was no glaring weakness in his combat style, nor was there any apparent vulnerability I could exploit. I began to experience a feeling I had only heard of in s
tories and in observing my prey: despair.

  His mind was impervious to my manipulation, and I simply did not have access to the weaponry necessary to bring him down.

  Or did I? No being was infallible. All had weaknesses: Achilles had his heel, Zeus his womanizing, Hades his jealousy of his powerful brother. As much as I hated to admit it, Karian was a stronger version of me. He himself had pointed out our similarities. I could only hope that he had the same weaknesses I did.

  There’s something that a lot of people don’t know about a vampire’s aversion to garlic and sunlight, or a werewolf’s aversion to silver, or a fairy’s aversion to iron: it’s bullshit. The principle reason is that those creatures don’t actually exist. Believe me, I would know if they did. But the lore actually had some truth in it. Find the weakness and exploit it.

  Ouranos, from who I had been begotten, had such a vulnerability: silver. It’s a fact unobserved by historians and dabblers in Greek mythology because such knowledge was dangerous-armed with such knowledge, humanity could have overcome divinity. I had inherited this vulnerability, as had all the creatures fathered by Ouranos—and surprise, surprise, so must have Karian.

  The inherent difficulty was that I could not so much as handle silver without bringing excruciating pain to myself. But if I could penetrate Karian’s heart with silver, he would surely die. And if he did not, then his power was unparalleled, and I was condemned. I obviously had nothing to lose, so I began to scan the crowd for a piece of silver large enough to kill Karian with.

  By this time, Karian had flown up level with me, and I could tell he was watching me warily. He exuded confidence, but he was neither stupid nor arrogant, and he knew that I was not resigned to my fate. I could feel his crimson eyes weighing me, evaluating me, preparing to strike, and I knew I must act quickly.