The Last Protector

by Daniel C. Starr

  The group's leader wore no helmet, and Scrornuck recognized her as the woman who'd stood next to the Mayor at the parade that kicked off the Fortnight of Sacrifice. She wasn't just a Mayoral Guard—she was the Captain of all the Guards. And while she'd been a brunette rather than a blonde Friday night at Syb's, he quickly identified her as Tremmlowe's bodyguard, the third member of the assassination team. Much worse.

  "Praise be to the Friendly Dragon!” she intoned. “He has led us directly to the blasphemer!” She pointed to the light atop the antenna tower, and then to the big dragon tattoo on Scrornuck's chest. “And behold the obscenity this fiend flaunts in the sight of the mighty Spafu!” The soldiers murmured in angry agreement. She made a small gesture, and they advanced, three abreast, swords drawn.

  Scrornuck swung his makeshift club, tripping one of his attackers and knocking the other two into the slimy green pond. “I should have killed you Friday night,” he snarled. “But you looked so cute with that red bandanna around your neck and your tongue up the Mayor's..."

  "Enough!” she bellowed. “In the name of Spafu, be silent!"

  "I am up to here with that stuffed lizard!” He forced the next trio of soldiers back with a sudden thrust of the coat-rack.

  "Watch your tongue, abomination! I know what you are—the priests have warned us to be vigilant for Dizzer-demons like you!” Her back straightened and pride crept into her voice. “I am the sixth Captain of the Mayoral Guards, and by the bones of my father before me and my grandmother before him, I will protect our fair city and our sacred way of life!"

  "Save the speech for somebody who can vote!” Scrornuck slipped the hook of the coat-rack between one soldier's legs and sent him sprawling.

  "Enjoy the sarcasm while you can. You're trapped, and when we've captured you, we have plans. Do you recognize this?” She held up the long, curved knife decorated with images of the Friendly Dragon. For an instant the sun reflected off the blade, straight into his eyes. In that instant the two soldiers that he'd knocked into the lagoon crawled up the edge of the pier and grabbed his legs. All three went down in a squirming pile, and in seconds the rest of the soldiers were upon him.

  The Servants of Spafu repaid Scrornuck for Thursday night, beating the crap out of him before dragging him into the office and using big plastic cable-ties to secure his wrists and ankles to a swivel chair. His stomach hurt, his left eye was swollen half-shut, blood trickled from his nose, and the wounds the dragon had left in his legs itched fiendishly.

  The Captain examined Scrornuck as if inspecting something she'd found under a rock. “Would you like to know what I'm going to do with you, demon?"

  "You're going to bring me a cup of hot cocoa?” Scrornuck said hopefully. The office's thermostat was set for skaters, not a man wearing only a soaking-wet kilt, and he was again on the verge of shivering.

  "Disrespectful to the end,” she said. “Well, you'll be quite warm soon enough.” She paced nervously, speaking as much to herself as to her prisoner. “After you beat up the Servants, I wondered why the great Spafu did not punish you. And after that exhibition in the Square, I wondered why he did not simply strike you down with a lightning bolt.” She came closer, fondling the ornate knife. “In time, I realized that the Dragon has granted me the honor of being the instrument of his justice. Let me tell you what I'm going to do with you, Dizzer. The Servants are right: we have become cheap and lazy in our offerings. Spafu deserves a real sacrifice, and I'm going to give it to him."

  "Sorry,” Scrornuck said smugly, “I didn't bring my boots."

  "We shall find them,” she said, “but I have something greater in mind. I'm going to take you back to the Temple, and there I'll skin you alive and offer that—that thing on your chest from the High Altar."

  Involuntarily, he flinched. “I thought Taupeaquaahns don't harm guests."

  "You're no Guest, Dizzer. I doubt you're even human. Lord Draggott warned me that you and your master would be coming, false ‘guests’ intent on overthrowing everything we hold sacred..."

  "Draggott, Draggott, Draggott,” Scrornuck spat irritably. “Who the hell is this Draggott, anyway?"

  She struck him in the face, hard. “He is my leader, the one who appeared among the Standing Stones and brought warning of the coming dangers. He taught us to go beyond the first-blood-drawn rule, to kill those who threaten our holy Temple and our sacred way of life..."

  "He taught you to kill?"

  "Yes, he gave us that gift. He taught us who we really are, and whom we are to serve.” Her voice dropped to a reverent near-whisper. “He is the True Guest."

  Time passed. The Captain and her soldiers studied the video screens, looking for some sign of the precious boots, but the displays showed only dark cliffs towering above the vast expanse of blue-white ice, with no movement beyond the steady back-and-forth of the ice-grooming machines.

  More time passed. The Captain lost her battle to keep from taking the Friendly Dragon's name in vain as her search continued to find nothing. Scrornuck lost his battle to keep from shivering. The two soldiers guarding him lost their battle with boredom and shifted about distractedly.

  What's that? He noticed something decidedly out of the ordinary on one of the screens. The ice-grooming machines made their steady rounds, back and forth, back and forth—except for one, which pursued a straight, purposeful path from the far rim directly toward the island. For the next several minutes he watched the screen out of the corner of his eye. The machine continued on its course, and soon he saw it had passengers: Jape and Nalia, hanging on to its backside and gliding along behind it.

  "What's that?” a soldier murmured, finally noticing the errant machine.

  "What's what?” the Captain said, irritated. “Did you find the boots?"

  "No, but I think you should see this."

  Scrornuck decided it was time for a distraction. While he was tightly secured to the chair by the two big cable-ties, he'd found he could move his feet enough to make the chair swivel and even roll a bit on its casters. Howling a loud battle-cry, he spun the chair around, slapping its back against one of the guards. The guard yelped, and several other guards jumped to grab Scrornuck's arms and legs.

  Hands on hips, the screens forgotten, the Captain stalked over to confront her prisoner. “So, you think you can get away?"

  "Prisoner's first duty,” Scrornuck said. Carefully keeping his gaze on her, he sneaked a glance at the monitor. Jape and Nalia were getting closer, maybe fifty feet from shore.

  The Captain pulled the long, curved knife from her belt and ran a finger along the blade as she thought aloud. “As the Dragon flames, I don't trust this Dizzer. I don't trust it at all.” Reaching her decision, she stared straight into his eyes and smiled a most unfriendly smile. “It's not worth the risk to keep you alive, demon. The mighty Spafu is going to receive his sacrifice—right here, right now."

  One of the soldiers objected. “The Exalted Rosaiah has said that sacrifices may only be offered at the Temple..."

  "That pompous fool wouldn't know a real sacrifice if it bit his overstuffed behind!” She waved her arm toward two men that Scrornuck recognized as Servants of Spafu. “You two! Gather wood and build an altar!"

  "Yes, Captain!” They saluted and hurried outside.

  "Now, demon,” she said softly, “you are going to learn what it means to show disrespect to the mighty Dragon."

  "Why don't you stuff that toy lizard up your—” She smacked him hard across the face before he could complete his suggestion, but the remark served its purpose. All eyes were on Scrornuck and the Captain, and not on the video screen that showed Jape and Nalia running the machine aground and scrambling up the beach. Hurry up, guys, he thought, this is gonna get real ugly soon.

  "Hold him tightly,” the Captain said to the guards pinning Scrornuck to the chair. Slowly, tentatively, she rested the knife's point just above the dragon's left wingtip. Scrornuck winced as she pressed, making a small cut. He risked a quick glance at the sc
reen, and saw Jape and Nalia finally leaving the camera's view. C'mon, he thought, get yourselves up here!

  The Captain twisted the knife, trying to get it properly under Scrornuck's skin. She succeeded in enlarging the cut and spilling some blood, but the tattoo remained resolutely attached. “Admit it, bitch,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “you don't know what you're doing, do you?"

  "Shut up!” Sweat trickled down her forehead as she twisted the knife another way, making the cut bigger and bloodier.

  At last he heard, at the very edge of his perception, feet crunching on gravel, followed by a few soft words and a sudden thud, as if somebody had just been cold-cocked outside the door. A moment later, he heard the door rattle softly as if someone were trying to open it.

  "Fire!" The word, spoken firmly outside the building, was loud enough to make a few soldiers turn their heads. Then, with a boom that popped Scrornuck's ears and shattered video screens all around the room, the door blew in. Nalia stepped through the cloud of smoke, sword drawn.

  The Captain's jaw dropped, for strapped to Nalia's small day-pack were Scrornuck's boots. “Seize her!” she bellowed. “She has the offering!” As the soldiers quickly drew their weapons and formed a ragged semicircle around Nalia, the Captain shoved the ceremonial knife into a sheath on her belt and said softly, “I'll deal with you later, demon."

  Scrornuck thrashed and squirmed, but the cable-ties held his wrists and ankles securely to the chair. He could only watch as Nalia engaged the soldiers, keeping her back to the wall as she moved away from the door. Where the hell is Jape, he wondered, angry that the Ranger would send Nalia to face the Captain's dozen soldiers by herself.

  And yet, she was more than holding her own, inflicting little wounds almost at will, always being somewhere else when the soldiers attempted to strike. Her opponents fought as if in a fog, getting in each other's way, grunting and cursing. Scrornuck grunted and cursed along with them as he struggled with his bonds.

  "Stop squirming, Mister Saughblade!” a calm voice whispered from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Jape, kneeling behind the chair and using a small multi-purpose tool to cut the cable-ties holding Scrornuck's wrists.

  "What the—how'd you get in here?"

  "Everybody's watching Nalia,” Jape said softly. “Even you, obviously. I just walked in.” He snipped the bonds securing Scrornuck's ankles.

  One of the soldiers finally got through Nalia's defenses, giving her a very small cut on the arm. “Where's Ol’ Red?” Scrornuck said angrily. Jape handed him the weapon. Scrornuck drew himself to full height and shouted, “Hey, bitch!" Startled, the Captain turned—and her face went white as the fibersword slashed through a guard, spraying her with blood. “I'm coming for you!” he yelled, striding forward as she backpedaled and blew a shrill whistle to signal retreat. The troops crowded toward the door. “Oh, no, you don't!” he roared, hacking apart two soldiers who made the mistake of pointing their swords in his direction. “You're not getting away this—oww!" He felt a stab of pain in his heel. “Sheeyit!” he howled, leaning on a console and pulling an inch-long shard of glass from his bare foot.

  Suddenly Nalia screamed. One of the Captain's soldiers, in too much of a hurry to escape the battle, had impaled himself on her sword. Eyes suddenly glazed, she released the sword and the man collapsed to the floor, the blade still through his chest. Oh crap, Scrornuck thought, realizing she'd never even hurt anybody in a duel, she's gonna lose it.

  Sensing Nalia's sudden paralysis, the Captain took a step toward her, reaching for the precious boots. Ignoring the pain in his foot, Scrornuck charged, Ol’ Red's blade crackling and snapping. She quickly changed her mind and sprinted out of the building. He pursued her as far as the door, and watched as she followed the last of her soldiers up the hill and disappeared into the woods.

  Nalia suddenly wailed, “I killed him!” She burst into tears, crying, “Not me! Not me..."

  Pssshht! She stiffened momentarily, and then relaxed. For a moment her eyes closed and she almost seemed to smile. “I had to do something,” Jape said, slipping the injector back into his cape. “We don't have time for her to come unglued now."

  "No, I guess not.” Scrornuck took Nalia's arm and gently walked her out of the building. “What'd you give her?"

  "Just a little something to take the edge off her emotions,” Jape said, taking her other arm. “She should be fine in a minute or so.” Indeed, by the time Scrornuck and Jape had walked her to a big, flat rock and helped her to sit, Nalia was coming around. She blinked a couple times, and if she remembered killing the soldier, she didn't mention it.

  "How'd we get out here?” she said, looking around. Then, with a somewhat satisfied smile, she added, “They ran like scared rabbits, didn't they?"

  With the crisis over, Scrornuck's shivering returned. He sprawled on the flat rock, trying to absorb heat from the dark stone and the sunshine. “Don't get too comfortable,” Jape advised. “Some snake cult's likely to come along and make a sacrifice of you."

  "Not funny.” Scrornuck related the Captain's plans for him.

  "That's uncivilized!” Nalia shuddered at the idea. “We don't throw people into the fire!"

  "Not yet,” Jape said. “But it appears a few are thinking about it."

  Scrornuck pressed his back against the rock. “At least I'd be warm."

  Jape pulled a silvery pouch from Nalia's pack and kneaded it between his fingers. Soon it was pleasantly warm, then seriously hot. He gestured to Nalia, and they slowly approached Scrornuck, one on either side, Jape keeping the pouch behind his back. He nodded, and suddenly he and Nalia both sat on Scrornuck's arms, pinning him to the rock. Jape tore the corner off the pouch, and Scrornuck got a whiff of its contents. “No!” he shouted, “Not that! I don't do drugs!"

  Nalia held her nose as Jape forced the contents of the coffee packet into Scrornuck's mouth, and then they both struggled to hold his mouth shut. “C'mon, just swallow it!” Jape shouted. “It'll warm you up!"

  Scrornuck grunted and squirmed with disgust. He hated coffee, but outnumbered and weakened, he was unable to spit it out. Jape held Scrornuck's mouth shut and stroked his throat as though he were forcing medicine into a dog. “The sooner you swallow it, the sooner you can wash the taste out of your mouth!"

  "Mmrrgghhh!” Scrornuck protested, but in the end there was little he could do besides swallow the vile stuff. As soon as he did, Jape and Nalia both rolled off the rock, laughing.

  "Feeling any warmer?” Jape asked.

  Scrornuck responded with a torrent of invective, most of it about the role of dogs, snakes and disease-ridden prostitutes in Jape's ancestry. He was actually feeling quite a bit warmer, but there was no way he was going to admit it.

  "If you'd stop cussing for a moment..."

  Scrornuck spat in Jape's general direction. “If you ever try something like that on me again..."

  "It was for your own good,” Jape said. “Anyway, now that you're back among the living, let's patch you up."

  "It's only a nick,” Scrornuck insisted.

  "Yeah, right.” Jape examined the ragged wound on Scrornuck's chest. “This thing's a mess."

  "Yeah, I don't think she—ouch!—knew what she was doing."

  Jape slapped some clear tape over the wound. “It was probably the first time she'd ever tried to skin anything.” He finished the first-aid by pulling the piece of glass from Scrornuck's foot and squirting a little antiseptic into the puncture. “I don't think people go hunting here."

  Scrornuck unstrapped his boots from Nalia's pack and slipped them on. His foot still hurt, but he could walk. “Where's my jacket?” he asked, rummaging around inside the pack.

  "No room,” Nalia said. “We brought what would fit, and it wouldn't squeeze down enough."

  "Yeah,” Scrornuck said aloud, and then muttered under his breath, “shit.” He knew the jacket was far too bulky for her small pack, but he really wanted some armor for his next meeting with the Capt
ain.

  "I brought this, though,” Jape said, holding out the Setron. Seeing Scrornuck's puzzled look, he explained, “You seemed really possessive about it, so I didn't want to leave it behind."

  Scrornuck took the Setron and gently ran his hands over the fretboard. He had no idea what good a musical instrument would be in a battle with the Captain, but he somehow felt good having it. Then he slung it over his shoulder and went back to searching the pack, coming up with his belt, his sporran and a rolled-up T-shirt. “Hmm,” he said, unrolling the shirt. “I don't think the Captain's going to like this."

  Nalia giggled as she saw the design. “Dragon sex positions?"

  "It seemed cute when I bought it.” He stuffed the shirt into the pack. “Something tells me I'd better not wear this right now."

  She smiled naughtily. “So, which one's your favorite?"

  He smiled back, just as naughtily. “All of ‘em."

  "All right, you two,” Jape said. “We've got work to do. Let's see what clues we can find."

  Nalia turned a little pale. “Do we have to go in there?"

  "I'm afraid so. I want to see if the Captain left anything interesting behind. You don't have to look if you don't want to.” He stopped and looked closely into Nalia's eyes. “It's not the blood and guts bothering you, is it?"

  She shook her head. “I killed that man,” she said softly.

  "He was trying to kill us."

  She shook her head, as if trying to shake something out of it. “We don't kill people."

  "The Captain does,” Scrornuck said. “She said Lord Draggott taught her and the army to kill. She called it a gift."

  "Some gift.” Jape turned to Nalia. “I'm not going to lie to you. I can't promise you won't have to kill somebody else before this is over."

  "I know. I just don't think I'll ever get used to it."

  "Probably not,” Scrornuck said. “I never have.” Nalia gave him a puzzled look but said nothing.

  They stepped into the security office. It was a mess: chairs overturned, screens shattered, broken glass and blood everywhere. Nalia delicately pulled her sword from the body of the man she'd killed, and took a nervous look at the man's face. “He's an off-duty Guard."