The Last Protector

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The Last Protector Page 45

by Daniel C. Starr


  "I knew you'd come,” she said.

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  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "A Good Guest Knows When It's Time To Leave"

  "I love you, Nalia,” he said, and for what seemed like forever they floated in a tight, wonderful embrace, gazing into each other's eyes. He had lost his Setron and his sword, he was a spiked, horned reptilian monster, he was bruised, battered and bloodied from the fight of his life—and yet, as he and Nalia slowly drifted away from the Orb's center, he was the happiest man in the world.

  At the center of the Orb, a cloud appeared, silver with two spots of blazing blue. Ribbons of luminous silver from the cloud met ribbons of brilliant blue-white, and within seconds the scene had become too bright to watch any longer. Whatever was happening, Scrornuck knew it was good, and that it was time he and Nalia departed. He held her close, and kicked in a direction that instinct told him would take them out of the Orb.

  The snowstorm of black ribbon was gone from the Orb's outer regions, replaced by what looked like placid schools of brightly colored fish, all swimming toward the light at the center. He looked back, and saw the light getting brighter and larger as the swarms of fish swam into it. Though he was certain that something very good was going to happen, he was just as certain he didn't want to be inside the Orb when it did. He kicked harder, and Nalia started kicking as well.

  The reached the boundary, a membrane that shimmered in the brilliant light coming from the center. Recalling how painful entering the Orb had been, Scrornuck flinched involuntarily. But this time, the passage was no more difficult than breaking the surface after an underwater swim. As the last school of little fish disappeared into the light behind them, he and Nalia slipped out of the Orb.

  They drifted slowly away from the great purple bladder, into the surrounding darkness. Electricity still crackled on the Orb's surface, and the laws of nature still seemed to be suspended in the Orb's vicinity. The pair drifted, weightless, waiting for something to happen.

  The light at the heart of the Orb flashed, a blazing blue-white that seemed to burn away all the ominous purple. It brightened further, blowing away the darkness that had surrounded the Orb like a bruise on the sky. Then the light faded, and the Orb hung against the beautiful blue Khansous sky like a full moon seen by day. Nalia smiled, as if she'd heard something beautiful.

  Gravity returned, and they suddenly found themselves falling. Scrornuck twisted, trying to see what was beneath them, and they began to tumble wildly. Nalia wrapped her arms around his neck, he extended his arms and legs, and after a few terrifying seconds they reached a stable position: he fell in a spread-eagle skydiver's stance, while she rode on his back as if he were a horse, her arms around his neck and her knees gripping his hips.

  Oh, crap, he thought, for he could now see exactly where they were—in the air, a good two miles above the dunes of the Compact Desert. The cold wind grew stronger each second as they fell. Scrornuck threw back his head and howled in despair and frustration—it seemed so pointless to have rescued Nalia from the Orb, only to have them both fall to their deaths. But short of sprouting wings—

  The pod-like bulges on his shoulders stirred.

  Wings? The changes the microbots had made to his body—the claws, the spikes, the bony crown on his head—had each arrived just when it was needed. Could there be one final surprise hidden in the bulges on his back? Having no better idea, he prayed for wings.

  And his prayer was answered.

  He felt a sharp, tearing pain as the pods split open and a splendid set of wings, as colorful as any butterfly's, unfurled around him. Strong cords on each wing's tip purposefully wrapped around the spikes protruding from his knees, while another set of cords wrapped around his arm-spikes. “Hang on!” he shouted. He felt Nalia's arms tightening around his neck and her knees squeezing his hips—and with a loud thwop the wings filled with air. In an instant they were no longer falling, but gliding through the brilliant blue sky. The world of Greater Khansous lay beneath them: the white spires of Taupeaquaah, practically glowing in the afternoon sun, the green of the grasslands giving way to the deeper blue-green of the forest, the intricately scalloped dune field of the Compact Desert, starkly beautiful in sun and shadow. And there in the desert, a bee-line of dust, with a rapidly moving object at is head: the skimmer! Jape had seen them.

  "Look at me!” Scrornuck cried, laughing joyously, “I really am a scrornuck!"

  Nalia hugged his neck harder and shouted back, “You are just full of surprises!"

  They circled a few times, descending slowly, and made a gentle landing beside the skimmer. Scrornuck threw his head back and shouted triumphantly at the sky, “Woo-hoo! What a ride!” He sucked in great gasps of air, as rivers of sweat soaked his kilt and poured down his arms and legs. He kicked off his oily, scorched boots and danced barefoot in the warm sand. Jape offered him a jug of water, and he emptied it in seconds. “Well,” he said between breaths, “did we save the world yet?"

  "I'm not sure.” Jape held up the ring. Its center was green, its edges black, and bands of silvery white and blue swirled in between. “I'm afraid we're not quite there yet."

  "Jape,” Nalia said softly, “do you trust me? The Orb wants to leave, but it doesn't know how.” She pointed to the pale blue ball hanging calmly in the sky, as if waiting. “You're the only one who can set it free."

  Jape looked at the Orb, and then at his ring. “Let's do it."

  Nalia laid her hands softly on Jape's head and closed her eyes. Scrornuck watched for any signs of distress, but if anything Jape appeared to be enjoying the experience. After about half a minute, she was done.

  "Now what?” Scrornuck asked.

  "We wait,” Nalia said. “It shouldn't take long."

  "It better not.” Jape nervously watched his ring, where green, silver and blue still fought the blackness. “Five minutes, that's all we've got."

  Nalia faced the sky, her eyes closed. “It's stuck.” She grabbed the softscroll. “It needs to know one more thing.” She stabbed the buttons quickly, as if she'd been operating the device all her life. A window appeared, filled with writing in a strange tongue, surrounding several complex mathematical expressions. “What's this part mean?"

  "I—I don't know,” Jape stammered. “I don't read Japanese. Mister Saughblade—"

  "I'm here.” Scrornuck stared at the unfamiliar writing, and within seconds the Kanji symbols formed into words and sentences. “I think I've got it."

  "Quickly."

  Scrornuck ran his hand down the page, reciting the text. It was like reading the bridge column—he recognized the words, grammar and sentence structure, but he had no idea what any of it meant. But a steadily broadening smile showed that it made perfect sense to Jape. “Okay,” he said, “let's do it.” Nalia put her hands back on his head and they both closed her eyes. This time, it only took a few seconds. Jape opened his eyes and consulted the scroll. “Three minutes. Two forty-five—"

  "Now,” Nalia said softly. Noiselessly, without any fuss, the Orb shimmered briefly, seemed to fold in upon itself, and was gone.

  "Well, that should do it,” Jape said. “Two minutes to spare. Not even a close call this time.” He looked at his ring, expecting it to be a pleasant green.

  It wasn't.

  The jewel still glowed an angry red. “I don't...” He scratched his head. “Something's still wrong."

  "Is it me?” Nalia asked nervously.

  Jape consulted the blue ring. It was dark. “Try to read my mind."

  Nalia's brow furrowed as she strained. “I can't."

  "Your powers seem to have disappeared with the Orb. And if it's not you..."

  "It's me,” Scrornuck finished.

  Jape stared at the messages his rings were flashing and nodded. “It's the microbots. They've changed—picked up programming from the Beast. They don't belong here anymore."

  "Can't we go somewhere else?” Nalia asked.

  Jape checked th
e Traveler. “Nothing solves—we're too close to the crossing."

  "Then there's only one thing left.” Scrornuck hurriedly searched the box of munitions. “Here we are—Mark 7 Thermal Grenade. This should do the job."

  Nalia screamed, realizing what he had in mind. “No! You can't!"

  "What choice do I have?” The situation seemed simple and clear to him: he could fire the grenade and save the world at the cost of his own life, or wait for the entire world, including himself and Nalia, to die in the stream crossing. Either way, he was already dead. The realization was oddly liberating.

  Jape, tears streaming from his eyes, struggled to speak. “I'm sorry..."

  Scrornuck shrugged. “Part of the job—I knew it when I signed up."

  Nalia wrapped her arms around him. “I won't let you go! Not now!"

  Scrornuck gently but firmly pushed her away. He thought for a second, reached into his sporran and took out the little red prayer book. “Here, you'll need this.” He turned to Jape. “See to it that she's brought up in a proper church."

  The Ranger nodded. “I will. Farewell, Mister Saughblade."

  Scrornuck shook Jape's hand. “It's been great working with you.” He looked into Nalia's eyes, realizing how desperately he wanted to stay, and whispered, “I'll try to wait for you.” With a sad sigh, he pulled the pin from the grenade, stretched out those beautiful butterfly wings and prepared to launch himself into the sky.

  Lights sparkled before his eyes as his vision blurred and faded. His legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground. He heard Jape and Nalia urgently shouting something he couldn't hear over the roaring that filled his head. Her face filled his sight as she pulled the grenade from his unresisting fingers and threw it as far as she could. Seconds later, it went off with a blinding white flash.

  The softscroll chimed an insistent alarm as Scrornuck struggled to his feet, suddenly almost blind as something like frost covered his eyes. His skin was at once burning hot, icily cold, and ferociously itchy. Nalia and Jape attacked him, tearing off wings, spikes, claws, and the bony crown on his head. The pieces came off with a stinging sensation, like tape being yanked from a wound.

  The scroll's alarm became louder and more urgent. Scrornuck staggered about blindly, fighting to stay upright as somebody pulled at his belt, letting his kilt fall at his feet. A moment later, a jug of cold water was dumped over his head. He blinked madly as the frost on his eyes dissolved and vision returned.

  The alarm rose to a continuous wail as Nalia doused him a second time, washing off the coarse white grit that had covered his skin. Jape rubbed him briskly with a rough towel, removing the last of the grit, and together they hustled him toward the skimmer.

  Scrornuck could hear nothing over the shriek of the softscroll's alarm as they reached the vehicle. He grabbed its side and hung on as Jape threw a grenade at the pile of discarded clothing and body-parts. The incendiary went off with a brilliant flash and a whump that sent Scrornuck sprawling in the sand. He rolled over in time to see the sky darken, from pleasant blue to an angry purple crisscrossed by jagged bolts of lightning. Dark clouds blew in, seemingly from all directions at once.

  The streams of time were crossing.

  Desert sand, driven by a wind that came from nowhere, stung his skin and brought tears to his eyes. The clouds condensed, swirled, and formed into two immense whirlpools that looked vaguely like eyes, as if God Himself were staring down at them. Leaves blew by—dried, dead autumn leaves, even though it was the middle of summer and the nearest tree was miles away. Fat, white flakes of snow drifted on the wind. He smelled a strong odor of manure, and for a moment he gazed into the eyes of one very confused buffalo.

  More lightning crackled between the clouds. Then, in what looked like a kind of cosmic wink, one of the great vortices collapsed upon itself and disappeared. A few final bolts of lightning flashed across the sky, and the other eye vanished as well. The sky returned to a mid-summer blue, and the last of the clouds swirled away to nothing.

  It was once again a perfect summer afternoon in Khansous.

  Drained, exhausted, barely able to lift his own weight, Scrornuck grabbed a corner of the skimmer and struggled to his feet. Jape danced about, waving his ring, with its gorgeous green emerald, high over his head. Lowering his arms, Jape examined the softscroll. The timer display had stopped at 0:00:01.25. “That was too close,” he said. “I think I could use a drink."

  "Yeah,” Scrornuck said. “A stiff drink—and some food!"

  "I don't think you're quite dressed for dinner.” Giggling, Nalia pretended to cover her eyes—and Scrornuck realized he was naked as a jaybird. She laughed out loud and pretended to peek between her fingers before tossing him a towel that that had been lying on the skimmer's floor. “Hey,” she said, as he wrapped the towel around his waist, “what happened to your dragon?” He looked down and saw what she meant—the big tattoo was gone. Only a few specks of faded ink remained.

  "Hmm, look at that.” Jape examined Scrornuck's skin and thought hard for several seconds. “I think I know,” he said. “Just before you collapsed, the microbots shut down and burrowed their way out. They must have pushed the tattoo-ink out as they passed through the skin."

  "Well, no loss,” Scrornuck said. “This dragon's caused me enough trouble.” He ran his fingers across a stretch of ink-free skin. “Think they knew?"

  "Who?"

  "The microbots. The things they did—the spikes, the claws, the wings—always appeared just when I needed them. And when I needed them to be gone, they left. It's like they always knew."

  "Well, you've got a knack for gadgets,” Jape said. “Maybe you found a way to tell them what you wanted."

  Scrornuck raised his right arm slowly. It looked strange without the fiery snake. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe they just knew."

  Jape chuckled. “Well, a good guest should know when it's time to leave."

  Fifteen minutes later they stood atop the dune where they'd camped two days before. Scrornuck dug up the big pack, retrieved his plaid and did the necessary folding and pleating to make it a proper kilt. With this task done, he joined Jape and Nalia in looking at the site of Darklord Castle.

  There was no sign that the forest of black towers had ever existed. The moat, apparently fed by artesian water, had risen close to twenty feet, and all signs of the Castle, save one small island, were submerged beneath a sparkling blue lake close to a mile across. A fire burned on the island—not a smoky debris fire, but the clean orange blaze of a broken gas pipe. Scrornuck found it rather pretty.

  Despite the stark beauty of the scene, Scrornuck's heart sank as he realized that both the Setron and Ol’ Red were somewhere on the bottom of the lake, buried in the debris of the Castle's destruction. He found a weapon with a telescopic sight in the skimmer, and spent the next several minutes scanning the island and the sand beaches surrounding the lake. Finding nothing, he sadly lowered the scope and whispered, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.” Then he turned to Jape and Nalia and said, “Come on, let's get some dinner."

  * * * *

  Afternoon turned to early evening and the sky lit up in shades of orange, purple and blue as the three sat around a table in the beer garden at the road junction. Jape and Nalia munched snacks and sipped drinks, while Scrornuck shoveled the food down—having lost close to twenty pounds in the last two days, he seemed determined to gain them all back in one meal.

  "Well,” the Ranger said, getting out his softscroll and preparing to record notes, “we've saved the world, but the job's not over till the paperwork's done. I've got a report to write, and it's best to hear what happened while the memories are still fresh. Nalia, since Mister Saughblade's stuffing his face, could you go first? Perhaps you could start when you entered the Orb. What did you see?"

  "Uh, okay.” Nalia set down her Subtle Evening Rose wine and stared into the distance, gathering her thoughts. “First thing, I found out Draggott was all wrong. There wasn't any machinery inside
the Orb, just bits of black ribbon blowing around. I looked for its center, and found a place that was calm and quiet. I—connected myself to it, I guess. I don't think there's any better word. When I did that, I heard voices—the slaves that Draggott had connected to the Orb were speaking.” She shuddered. “He'd put a little bit of their mind in the Orb, left a bigger part in their bodies, and thrown away the rest. There were good people in there, a lot of them. The bartender from Syb's, for one.” She turned to Scrornuck and smiled. “Did you know he's the one who brought you a six-pack when you were in Draggott's prison?"

  Scrornuck, his mouth full of a big beef sandwich, shook his head. He hadn't really gotten a look at his benefactor.

  "And then there was the archer—the one who wouldn't shoot us when we went up the tower? He was a Squatter, and he remembered how you bought him a meal when we left the city. He refused to harm us, no matter how much Draggott tried to make him."

  Scrornuck washed the sandwich down with about half a beer. “So good deeds really do go unpunished now and then."

  "Now and then,” Jape said. “What happened next?"

  "The soldiers just wanted to be made whole again,” she said, “but too much was already lost; I couldn't return their minds to their bodies. So, I tried something else: I reached out to a soldier's body and sucked every last bit of self I could find inside it into the Orb."

  "I saw that,” Scrornuck said, around a mouthful of French fries. “That's when the first guy fell over dead."

  She nodded. “Dead outside, but alive in the Orb. And once I'd learned how to do that trick, it wasn't too hard to teach it to all the other soldiers. That's when the rest of the army died, at least on the outside. Inside the Orb, they were as whole as they could make themselves. It wasn't all that much, but it was all we could do.

  "And once they were back together, the people in the Orb told me their stories.” She stopped abruptly. “No, that's not right. They didn't have to tell me; I just saw them all, in an instant. Some of it was awful. Draggott had Squatters kidnapped, and he fed them to the Orb just to make it grow. One time he killed a dozen captives, just stabbed them, one after another, for no reason other than to teach the Captain the right way to kill somebody. Another time...” She stopped again. Her hands shook with disgust and rage as she took a gulp of her wine.

 

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