“By what right do you challenge me, insect?” he countered. But I was ready for that one too, and keyed my Perscom.
“By the right that you allied yourself with a traitor to me and mine,” I said sweetly. “By the fact that you did bargain with her to fulfill your wishes. By your own words, this was your doing.” By the time I had finished that sentence, I had the broadcast from Apex that was airing the recording Torcion and I had made of Laetrenier; I punched up the volume and let it play, and watched as his face went from blank recognition to incredulity and finally back to rage.
“Those are your words, in your voice. Twist how you will,” I continued. “Now, do you accept challenge of me?”
His answer was to fling a double-handed fireball at me, which splashed off my Shield. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said, and let him have it with a skunk-spell.
It was the very last thing he was expecting. He coughed and gasped, his eyes watering, as he staggered away from the patch of earth I’d made so pungent. Finally he iced the area, which sealed the smell in.
I had a particular intention in this fight, because as I said, I was stalling for time. I wanted to make him look ridiculous. Granted, there were no others of his kind here to grandstand in front of, but nevertheless, he’d feel ridicule more keenly than if I played this seriously. He’d be angry, and his control would be off.
Most importantly, now that he’d accepted the challenge, for a while at least, he’d have to play by the rules. Mind, I expected him to cheat eventually, but by that time, my help would be there.
I hoped—I really, really hoped—I was right about all this. My life literally depended on it all.
Outside I was cool.
Inside I was racing around in a panic.
But the last time I’d faced off with Ace, I’d put a spin on my Shields to deflect his attacks rather than block them. I did that again. It wouldn’t matter if this Folk Lord figured out what I was doing; there was no way he could alter his offensive spells to deal with the spin. Spinning the Shields made them work very much like Aki-Do deflections; instead of the energy going into the Shields and damaging them, most of the energy would remain with the attack and be flung off in the direction of the deflection.
As I suspected, the Folk Lord didn’t even notice what I had done. He hit me with a barrage of levin bolts, and they careened off in twenty different directions as they struck, pinging off into the Manticores around us with a little added velocity from the Shield-spin. It took everything I had to keep from reacting as those bolts of pure magic energy raced toward my face.
The Manticores didn’t move. Not even when their own master’s magic hit had injured them. They formed a near-perfect circle around us, all of them facing inward, all of them motionless.
Drift. Drift is controlling them. She has to be—he is in no mental state to do it.
“Oh dear,” I taunted. “What’s the matter, oh mighty one? Have you been indulging in a victory binge too early? Your aim appears to be off.”
The angrier I got him, the wilder his attacks would be and the more force he’d put into them. I might be able to bleed him of so much magical energy he’d lose his Shields.
My heart raced, my hands were cold with fear, and I was glad that the noise of fighting covered up the fact that my voice was shaking. But I realized that although I should have been bleeding magic, I still had all I could hold. Somehow, even though they were nowhere near me, my Hounds were keeping me supplied. I had a nearly infinite source of magic power.
He didn’t. And that just might be what allowed me to survive this. Please let me survive this….
I stayed on the defensive, hitting him with tiny attacks meant to sting, to annoy, to make it look as if I was playing with him. I set the field upwind of him on fire so he choked on the smoke until he moved, only to find that I had created a miniature skating rink under his feet. “Where are your allies, great lord?” I mocked, as he slipped and slid until he got the ice thawed again, then discovered he was ankle-deep in mud. “Oh, that’s right. They’ve deserted you. They’ve discovered you intended to use the human traitor to help you take their domains. You’re all alone now.” Alone, like me. “In fact, you’ll be lucky to discover they haven’t decided to take your domain and divide it up among themselves. What happens to a landless little creature of your kind, anyway? Do you have to take service? Do they make you clean their floors with your tongue?”
I thought all of that was pretty mild, but evidently something I said struck a nerve, because he let loose with all the brute force he had in his arsenal of spells.
It wasn’t far off from being at ground zero of a Hellfire strike, with a few artillery shells and maybe an RPG thrown in for good measure.
I cowered down and made my Shields as tight and dense as they could be. All I could do was keep my head down and up the spin on the Shields in an effort to fling off as much force as possible. The area around me was churned up with concussive blasts, deflected levin bolts flew in every possible direction, and finally a plume of bale-fire washed over me.
This was it. I was about to die.
I expected at any moment that the Shields would fail. “Terror” doesn’t quite cover the feeling I had with all that destructive force pinning me in place.
But I didn’t break. Someone else did.
The Manticores suddenly came to life, bellowing with the pain of their wounds—and it was obvious where the attacks were coming from, even to them. They roared their anger at their erstwhile master—their hurt and their sense of betrayal—and scattered.
Drift had abandoned her ally to save her own skin. His monsters had abandoned him. And now he was alone—no Psimon, no army, just him. He had probably intended to turn those Manticores on me, but Drift had twisted that plan right on its head—whether because she had intended to betray him all along, or out of panic, it didn’t matter.
I’d won. Somehow…I had won.
His barrage suddenly ceased, and I stood up inside my Shields, unhurt. We stared at each other across the stretch of churned-up, charred earth. I saw his eyes widen with disbelief and then fear. And that was when I went on the offensive.
I looked at this creature, and all I could see were the faces of my friends that were dead because of him. What I felt was not so much rage as a grief that was as powerful as anger, a great tsunami of feeling that rose up inside me and demanded an outlet, a grief too strong, too profound for mere tears.
While he stood there staring at me, I gathered my wits, my strength, and my magic. I whispered, “This is for you, my friends,” and hit him with a Shield Bash, exactly the way Mark would have, if he’d been here.
His Shield wasn’t anchored, of course. I expected to knock him off his feet with his own Shield, the way I had with Ace.
Instead…the concussive force shattered his protection, leaving him standing there with nothing between us but air. He stared at me in horror.
And then—he bamphed.
Until that moment, I had not realized that I knew as many curse words as I did. As the huge mob of Hounds surged toward and past me from behind, led by the giant Alebrije, chasing a wildly assorted herd of Othersiders before them, I filled the air with invective. Monsters in a complete state of panic ran around me, even bounced off my Shield, and I still didn’t stop cursing until I found myself surrounded by my own beloved pack, all of them looking expectantly at me.
All my emotions suddenly ran out of me, and as the adrenaline I’d been flying on dropped, so did all my energy. I banished my Shield, and my Hounds—my faithful friends, my best companions—came crowding around me. I hugged them and praised them until I was hoarse.
Then we began what turned out to be about a half-mile walk back to the Barrier. And not a hair nor a tooth nor a horn did we see of a single Othersider.
When we got there, everyone else was gone—except for that enormous army of Hounds, waiting. They all looked at me expectantly, and finally my fatigue-dulled brain put two and two toget
her, and I realized they were waiting for me to open the Way for them so they could go home.
Not yet, Bya said. Ah—look! There he is!
I saw the giant Alebrije coming toward us, and every line of him said to me that he was extraordinarily pleased with himself. He was moving very slowly, and as he approached, I saw that he had something in his mouth.
No, not something. Someone.
Lord Laetrenier.
The Folk Lord did not appear to be conscious, although he could have been under some sort of spell, stunned, poisoned, or just feigning it. But the huge Alebrije bent down and came eye to eye with me, the limp form held carefully in his mouth. I stared into that one huge eye, and I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. Instead, I dared to put one hand on his soft cheek (surprisingly, astonishingly soft, like deerskin) and whisper, “Thank you. You saved us. There is not enough gratitude in the world to repay you.”
And that, little Sister, is why you are worthy to call the Great Hunt, he said with affection and amusement warming his mental voice. Then I sensed affection changing to warning. But do not think—
“I would never, ever, ever dare to do this again,” I replied, my voice shaking with emotion…and yes, some respectful fear. “Not unless Bya said I could.”
The warmth and affection came back. And that, too, is why you are worthy to call the Great Hunt. But I have a thing I must ask you.
“You can ask me anything, and ask anything of me, and it won’t be enough to repay you,” I told him fervently.
This…He shook his head slightly, and Lord Laetrenier’s limbs flailed loosely. Rightfully this is your prey. But he has much to answer for to my kind.
I thought about justice. I thought about revenge. I thought, for a long, long time, about Mark.
And then I thought, Maybe they have a better claim on justice or revenge than I do….
Besides, who was I to render justice? And revenge generally turns out to be a lot less satisfying than you think it will be.
“Take him. He’s yours,” I replied. “If that goes a tenth of the way to repaying you…”
It pays the debt, he said with immense satisfaction. I wondered, then, just what kind of atrocities this Folk Lord had perpetrated on the Hounds that this was the response. But I wasn’t going to ask. The Hounds told us what they wanted, when they wanted, and that was that. Of a courtesy, would you open the Way that we might go home?
“With pleasure,” I replied, and cast the Glyphs, opening the Way. The Portal appeared—somehow, though I have no idea how, managing to be big enough for the giant one to go through.
Step through he did, followed by a slow-moving river of satisfied, manna-fat Hounds of every shape and size, so many of them that I quickly lost count, until at last, bringing up the rear, came my beloved pack.
They paused beside the Portal and looked at me as one.
“You guys ready to go home for a while?” I asked. Myrrdhin and Gwalchmai grinned. Hold and Strike dog-laughed. The rest nodded. I bowed, and gestured toward the open Portal. They all went through but one.
Bya lingered. I looked down at him, then knelt and hugged him until my arms ached and that slash burned. “I love you,” I said with every fiber of my being. “I don’t know how I deserved what you did for me, but—”
Oh, hush. I love you too, he said fondly. Unfortunately, I have some bad news. That evil she-beast got away, and she took some of her minions and your old enemy with her. I tried to track her, but one of the big Lords opened a Portal for her and it closed before I could see where the Portal led.
So Drift got away and took some of her Psimons and Ace with her? Well…crap. But for now, it didn’t matter. “Not your fault, and we’ll deal with her another day,” I said. I heard footsteps, and I looked up to see someone in army gear approaching.
But…I thought the soldiers had all gone. Had someone gotten so far separated from the rest that—
Oh, that’s not who or what you think, Bya said, and wagged his tail.
“Your companion is correct,” said the newcomer in a very familiar and mellifluous voice. “I had rather not be attacked just now, and we are somewhat too near your great magic-wall for the safety of my true form.”
True form? I tried not to show my surprise, but this was the first time anyone had ever had any confirmation, both that the Folk could make themselves look like one of us, and that those ridiculously gorgeous visions were their true forms.
“You asked me how I could prove that I was worthy of your fullest trust,” Torcion said. “Whilst you were engaged with our mutual foe, I realized he would not have his eyes on his own holdings, and that there was something I could do that would prove this to you once and for all.” He paused. “As I suspected, the whole of his guardian forces were here, allowing me to slip into his fiefdom and do as I would. And, besides…it was just the ethical thing to do.”
“Um, you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that,” I said. I was beginning to wonder if the most difficult part of dealing with the Folk was their habit of beating around the bush so much that they knocked all the leaves off.
“Better still, I shall show you.” He made a little gesture, screening it from the other side of the Barrier with his body, and a second Portal opened in front of mine. From the army base, it would look like there was still only one Portal there. “You may come through now,” he called out loud. “You are almost home.”
What…?
Human children—and a few adults—began stumbling out of the Portal. Shabby, filthy, some still in tattered nightclothes, starved and frightened-looking, they took one look at me and lit up.
“Hunter Joy!” screamed one little girl, and flung herself at me. Suddenly, I was surrounded by kids and those few adults, all babbling at once, most of them crying, most of them pretty incoherent.
I stared, my mouth dropping open.
While I’d been fighting Laetrenier, Torcion had gone to his domain, and rescued the people who had been kidnapped by the Manticores. To prove I could trust him.
And because it was the “ethical thing to do.”
A Folk Lord.
I was going to have a lot of thinking to do.
Torcion somehow slipped away while I got some help from the base. Then it was just a matter of getting the rescued people across the Barrier and into quarantine. I didn’t think they’d much mind—those kids would probably be spoiled within an inch of their lives, and the adults looked as if all they wanted right now was sleep, food, and a lot of quality time with a psych-counselor.
When I was alone again except for Bya, I was unsurprised to hear Torcion’s voice behind me. I turned. He was still wearing his disguise of a soldier, but his eyes were his own again.
“How did you get them to come with you in the first place?” I asked.
He laughed. “I wore this guise and told them I was a magician who had been sent to rescue them. I took them first to my domain.”
“Because you didn’t know at the time we’d win?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It was possible. And better with me than the alternative.”
I nodded. It was the same thing a human probably would have done. After all, why send them home if home was about to be overrun?
“I come to ask you, once again, will you take service of me?” he asked. “Your people are safer for now. I returned the ones that were stolen away. The Grand Alliance is no more. Laetrenier has vanished, and I cannot find him in any of the realms. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “the queen of the mind-warriors is at large, and with her some of her minions and your old enemy.”
He can’t have known Bya just told me that…so…holy crow. He’s just given me free information again.
“I cannot,” I said. “Regretfully. My vow is to my Hunter clan.”
“I would not esteem you half so much were honor not paramount with you,” he replied, with a little bow. “Nevertheless, I shall not cease to ask.”
“And I…won’t ask you to stop a
sking,” was the only thing I could think of to say.
He smiled a little, gave me that half bow again, then opened a Portal behind him and was gone.
Kneel down and give me your arm, said Bya, and licked the slash thoroughly. Then he yawned hugely. I have a big meal to sleep off.
“Go do it, then,” I replied, and he walked with tail high through the Portal, which closed behind him.
And I walked to the Pylon to join the rest of the Hunters, waiting for a truck or a pod home.
I’d barely gotten out of the truck when a Psimon-suit came galumphing clumsily toward me. “Joy! You’re all right!” cried a metallic and highly amplified voice. I winced. The suit came to a halt, and the helmet visor came up; it was Josh. “They said you were all right, but I never know with you Hunters if that means ‘She’s fine,’ or ‘Well, at least she survived.’ I—”
I silenced him by jumping up and more or less climbing the suit—it was about the size of Hammer, for heaven’s sake!—and planting a huge kiss on him. I was so grateful to him and so relieved to see him that I didn’t care that we had an audience of interested and wearily chuckling Hunters. But when I couldn’t hang off his shoulders anymore, I let go and dropped to the ground again. “How did you manage to lock the Psimons down?”
“I didn’t lock all of them down. Drift got away with some,” he said. “But I managed to round up all the Marginals in the city and scrambled them into suits, with techs to help them. And maybe one-on-one we’d never have been a match for the PsiCorps Psimons, but I had enough folks that we could dog-pile four or five or even half a dozen on every one of Drift’s flunkies.” He grinned and flushed a little. “Then we got the techs to hit the shutdown on each suit, and that was that.” He looked around, and after a moment, I saw what he was looking for—another five of the suits, with the helmet visors open, were heading in our direction from a transport. He waved to them; they put on more—if clumsy—speed. “Joy, these are the real stars. If it hadn’t been for them, I’d never have found all the Marginals in time. This is Larry Smith, who’s a celeb-chaser for the clubbing channel, and this is Sally Kobee, who’s a stringer for the top-ten Hunter channel; these are Sue Acord and Trey Chipman, who—” I was so tired by now that they all sort of blurred together, but I gathered that these were all marginal psychics who worked for the vid-channels. Apparently they’d been able to use their authority to break into all the broadcasts, air the story of Drift’s betrayal, and put out a plea for other marginal psychics to come help. Which was how Josh had managed to get so many so fast.
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