by Melvin, Jim
“I knows every one of ya, so ya’d better mind your manners while I is gone,” she said in the northern dialect to the ones who remained awake. “If there’s any trub-bull, I is going to get angry. And ya know what happens when I gets angry.”
“Yes, missus,” the largest of them mumbled.
Bonny led them through a side door into a wide alley and gathered her companions around her. “We have a long way to go,” she whispered, returning to the common tongue. “You need to do what I do, run when I run, hide when I hide.” Then she focused her attention on Lucius. “By the time we get to the slave pens, the sun will have risen. There will be lots of people around, so we’ll have to be careful.” She looked at the rest of them. “Are you ready?”
They nodded vigorously, except for Rathburt, who bore the expression of someone suffering from stomach cramps. “I can run and hide with the best of them,” he mumbled.
Elu snorted.
After that, Bonny turned to the left and hurried down the alleyway in a crouch, staying close to the wall. Soon she came to a wide street, lighted sporadically by torches. There was a tavern across the street that was larger and more active than Rakkhati’s establishment. Several dozen men stood outside the main door, unafraid because they were pressed together and heavily armed.
Strength in numbers, Lucius thought. Monsters rarely attack large groups, if they can help it. They prefer to sneak up on isolated prey.
“We need to get by these guys, somehow,” Bonny said. “If they see us, they’ll want to know our business—and it’ll end up in a fight. I’m not saying we’d lose, but it’d cause too much of a ruckus.”
“We need a diversion,” Lucius said.
Bonny smiled. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Now that you mention it, I do.” What he whispered in her ear caused her to giggle.
A few moments later Bonny ran into the street, screaming like a banshee. Her blouse was unbuttoned, exposing her small breasts. Lucius thundered after her, grabbed her from behind and groped her in full view of the pirates.
“Where ya going, ya bitch!” he shouted. “I isn’t done with ya yet!” He flung her over his shoulder and trudged down the street while the men hooted and hollered approvingly. A hundred paces later, Lucius and Bonny ducked into a dark alley, joining their companions.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Bonny said after Lucius put her down. “Where I come from, they call that a freebie.”
“I had to make it look real.”
Rathburt rolled his eyes. “When you lovebirds are finished chatting, can we get on with it?”
Bonny gave Lucius a quick kiss on the lips before starting down the poorly lit street, which quickly grew darker and spookier. They passed row upon row of shabbily constructed wooden buildings. There appeared to be activity inside their walls, but no one dared to venture outside.
Lucius’ thoughts strayed to Laylah. He wondered where she was and how she was faring—and if he would ever see her again. Bonny must have sensed his distraction, because she grasped his arm and gave it a hard squeeze. Then she pointed down the road toward a particularly thick patch of darkness. At first Lucius saw nothing, but then he began to make out shapes lumbering toward them.
“Ghouls,” Bonny hissed. “We must not be seen. Follow me.”
Several large barrels, empty and splintered but large enough to provide cover, fronted one of the buildings. They crouched behind them and did their best to stay out of sight. The ghouls, at least twenty in all, marched down the middle of the street like a grotesque parade, their stench preceding them by a good distance.
As the ghouls passed their hiding place, Lucius saw that several of them were lugging a large, round body that appeared to be dead or unconscious. Lucius felt Bonny tense, and for a moment he feared she might leap up and attack. But the ghouls suddenly veered to the left and stumbled into an alleyway, carrying the body with them. Soon they were gone.
“Bhiimadeha! (Dreadful flesh!),” Bonny whispered. “How dare you murder the Daasa? I spit on all your kind.”
“It was a Daasa?” Lucius said. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Bonny said with irritation. “It was probably given to the ghouls as a gift by the slavers in return for performing some terrible deed. I’m glad you have come to Duccarita. It’s time we put an end to this, once and for all.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?” Rathburt said. “And here I thought we were just going out for a pleasant stroll through the scenic part of town.”
“Those ghoulies smell bad, but they don’t look so dangerous to me,” Ugga said, slapping the shaft of his axe against the palm of his hand. “Why are we hiding from them, Missus Bonny? They should be hiding from us.”
“The ghouls are more dangerous than they look,” Bonny said. “Even so, the less noise we make, the better. If we attract a crowd, that won’t be good.”
She continued down the roadway, finally stopping near the entrance of another alley. Lucius peered inside but could not see beyond its pitch-black maw.
“If we go this way, we’ll save lots of time,” Bonny said. “If we keep to the streets, we’ll have to go a long way around, and we might not make it before midmorning.”
“But . . . ?” Lucius said.
“But . . . the alleys are dangerous at night. We’re almost sure to run into more ghouls. And vampires too. Sometimes there are even Mogols. If we’re real quiet—and real lucky—we might make it without a fight. But I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“If we take the long way, the odds are still high we’ll run into trouble?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Lucius turned to the others. “I don’t pretend to be your commander, but I vote we go through the alley. It sounds like any way we choose will be difficult, so the quicker the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
“That would be my choice too,” Bonny said.
The rest agreed, though Rathburt, as usual, added a snide remark. “My choice would be to return to the inn and sleep in our chairs by the fire. But no one ever listens to me.”
Bonny chuckled and then looked down at Elu. Her expression grew serious. “You look plenty strong to me, and I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but to the monsters, you will look like the easiest prey.”
“Elu understands. He will stay close to mighty Ugga.”
After that, they were forced to backtrack several dozen paces to find a torch that still had some life. Then they returned and entered the alley with Bonny in the lead. Lucius, Rathburt, Bard, Elu, and Ugga followed. Lucius held the war club in his left hand and uttara in his right. The club felt hot, as if just pulled from a fire. When he entered the corridor, it began to glow.
“You carry two great weapons,” Bonny whispered. “The club must have belonged to a Mogol chieftain. There is magic in it that is responding to something nearby. I’m not sure what, but it makes me nervous.”
“We’re all nervous,” Lucius said.
Even though it had no roof, the alley was claustrophobically narrow. Rusty nails and warped planks reached out like claws. The air stank of garbage, urine, and feces. Bonny held the torch and led them slowly forward. Instantly Lucius felt paranoid that something was going to pounce on his head from above, and he found himself looking up compulsively.
There were occasional tears in the walls—some at eye level or above, some low to the ground. From one of the low holes, a pale hand emerged and grasped Elu’s ankle, attempting to yank him inside. But the Svakaran was too quick, whipping the Tugarian dagger downward and cutting the arm in two near the wrist. After a snarling yelp, the bloodied stub withdrew, leaving the severed hand behind, its fingers still wriggling.
“Good going, little guy,” Ugga said, squashing the hand with a large booted foot. “They’ll think twice before grabbing for ya again.”
Lucius was impressed too. The Tugarian dagger had cut through the bone of the arm like a scythe through grass. It appeared they all carried formidable weapo
ns.
They came to a crossroads where several alleys intersected. Without hesitation, Bonny turned right. This alley opened onto another road, but here there were no torches, and the buildings that lined the street appeared deserted.
“This is a bad part of town,” she said.
“And everywhere else is so nice,” Rathburt said.
They continued down the street. Bonny led them into another alley, this time on the right. Again they were submerged in darkness, their sputtering torch providing scant relief. After they had walked about a hundred paces, Bonny halted and raised the torch.
“Do you hear something?”
“I don’t hear a thing,” Rathburt said. But then, without warning, he let out a yelp, and blue flame burst from his staff, spurting upward and illuminating the corridor.
Lucius turned and saw Ugga staring up at an enormous cave troll that had somehow managed to squeeze into the alley by scooting along sideways. Tendrils of drool hung from its bulbous lips, and its eyes were wild and angry. The troll swung a boulder-sized fist at the crossbreed’s head, but Ugga blocked the downward blow with his axe. The huge hand struck the edge of the blade and tore away from the wrist, flopping past Elu and knocking Rathburt off his feet. Black blood sprayed the walls. Ugga had little room to maneuver, but he managed to drive the upper point of the axe blade into the screaming creature’s chest, forcing the troll backward. Quick as a fox, Elu leapt forward and stabbed the troll in the knee with his dagger, piercing the thick sinew. The troll trumpeted like an elephant and fell onto its side.
“Run!” Bonny said.
Off they went, but not before Elu stabbed the beast again in the sole of its foot, prompting another howl.
Bonny led them to a second crossroads, turning left and then right. Rathburt was limping and complaining, and whatever magic he had temporarily wielded seemed to have once again gone dormant. The light from the torch barely extended beyond Ugga, but it became obvious they were being pursued. A strange cacophony hounded them, growing louder and more frightening.
Lucius heard Bonny scream. Only it sounded more like a high-pitched squeal.
In the dim torchlight, he could see large figures slipping toward them—from both directions.
“We’re trapped!” the pirate woman said. “We’ll have to fight our way out.”
Though his face felt hot and his vision blurry, Lucius managed to squeeze past her, holding the war club above his head and the uttara at waist level. The first of their assailants entered the torchlight: a Porisāda almost as large as Bard. The Mogol cannibal also wielded a war club, which glowed in response to the one Lucius held. Apparently the weapons were magically entwined.
There were more Porisādas behind the leader, and they too crept forward into the light. Lucius braced himself for attack, but he knew he was no match for these warriors. He found himself wishing Torg were with them.
Goodbye, Laylah, he thought to himself.
That’s when he heard Ugga growl.
THOUGH UGGA’S vision was no better than that of his companions, his sense of smell was superior. He knew Bard’s scent better than anyone’s, but he had grown familiar with his other friends, as well. When the ghoulies had passed by them on the street, the stench had been overwhelming, assaulting his senses like a blast of foul wind. Even after they passed, the reek had lingered, making him want to vomit.
When the cave troll approached, Ugga smelled it before he saw it, turning just in time to counter the blow. Then Elu had come to the rescue, stabbing the beast with the dagger Master Hah-nah had given him.
What a brave little guy!
After that, they ran like fools, stumbling down the dark alley as quick as they could. But even as they fled, Ugga could smell the approach of more pursuers, including ghoulies and vam-pie-ers. But there was something worse, a scent unfamiliar to the crossbreed. And it was growing in intensity. Even the ghoulies and vam-pie-ers fled from it, crawling up the walls and disappearing onto rooftops.
The crossbreed felt hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. Aggressive instincts from his former existence took over, and he started to growl.
BARD HEARD Ugga’s growl, but he had no time to turn and help his companion. The leader of the Porisādas pounded his war club against Lucius’, knocking the weapon out of the firstborn’s hand and driving him to the ground. Despite the cramped alleyway, Bard nocked an arrow, drew the feathers to his ear, and loosed it. The arrow zipped over Radburt’s left shoulder, passed within a hair of Bonny’s nose, and pierced the Porisāda chieftain in his heart.
With surprising agility, Missus Bonny met the next attacker, ducking under his club and stabbing him in the stomach with the point of her cutlass. But there was another behind the one she had just got—and many more beyond. In rapid succession, Bard loosed three more arrows, striking a different warrior each time. But for each fallen body, another immediately replaced it.
Bard cast down his bow and drew his daggers, which were carved from the talons of a mountain eagle—a present from Jord long ago. He squeezed past Rathburt, leaped over the fallen Lucius, and shoved Missus Bonny aside just in time to deflect a deadly blow. A poisoned dart struck the wall near his neck and another stuck in the sleeve of his coat, just missing his bicep. In a fit of anger Bard surged forward, wielding the daggers like claws. He was stronger than the wicked Mogols, and the close quarters worked to his advantage. At first the Porisādas were driven back, but then a dart found its mark, piercing Bard in the cheek. Instantly his vision clouded, and his legs went all wobbly.
As he collapsed, he heard Elu shouting in his high-pitched voice:
“A Daasa comes. A Daasa!”
WHEN THE BEAR-man growled, Elu ran to his side, ready to confront whatever approached. But what he saw next caused even his brave heart to quail. The oddly shaped creature that came forward was as thick as a boulder, the walls of the alley breaking apart as it passed. Three pairs of snapping fangs sprang from its round, brown head.
A part of Elu wanted to run. He saw a hole at the bottom of the wall just large enough for his body, and he imagined himself crawling inside and escaping. Afterward he would find Torg and Laylah. Who could blame him? One of them had to survive to tell the story of the others. It was the smart thing to do.
But Elu had a warrior’s courage, and his concern for his friends overwhelmed his desire to flee. He raised the Tugarian dagger and waved it in front of him. Blue fire leapt from the blade. The ruined Daasa halted for a moment, then came forward again. Elu braced himself, knowing he would prick the beast at least once before he was squished.
Instead of lunging, the Daasa stopped a pace away from Ugga, leaned back on its powerful haunches, and then hurdled Elu’s companions, crushing down on the Porisādas. The Daasa continued forward, fast as a Buffelo, driving the rest of the warriors back and clearing the way for the others.
Bonny tossed the torch to Rathburt and then helped Lucius to his feet. The firstborn still held his uttara, but his war club lay on the ground. Rathburt knelt over Bard and plucked the dart from his cheek. The trapper remained pale and lifeless.
“We have to run,” Bonny shouted. “Follow the Daasa!”
Ugga reached down, picked up Bard, and slung him over his shoulder. Rathburt grabbed Lucius’ war club, and Elu scooped up Bard’s bow. As a group, they chased after Bonny. Lucius’ right shoulder seemed to Elu to be off-kilter, and his arm dangled limply, but he kept up the quick pace. The Daasa turned left, then right, then left again, and suddenly they were charging out of the alley. Before them was a vast open area teeming with Mogols, monsters, and pirates. Elu stopped and sighed. Surely they were doomed.
RATHBURT STOOD in the street and stared at the tumult, his eyes adjusting slowly to the morning light. Bard was hurt, maybe dying; Lucius also was injured. But even worse, the six of them—seven if you counted the ruined Daasa—had come face to face with an army of Mogols, pirates, and monsters. For one of the few times in his life, Rathburt found himself wishing
Torg was with them. Showoff or not, he at least would be able to conjure enough magic to put up a respectable fight.
Still, Rathburt was not afraid. An eerie calm had come over him, sweeping away his cowardice. He held his staff in his right hand and Lucius’ war club in his left and prepared to meet his doom.
I’m no warrior, he thought, but I’ll get at least one of you boogers.
Even as his enemies closed around him, Rathburt felt a sudden surge of energy rush over his body—like a blast of wind filled with fire—causing him to cry out. The next moment, an enormous explosion shook Duccarita, and a great pillar of flame rose from an inner portion of the city. Shards of fiery wood, thrown high into the air, tumbled upon them like meteors, stunning the Mogols and pirates. Some of them ran, and others covered their faces, but the bravest raised their weapons and shouted words of defiance.
At that moment, the sun peeked over the eastern wall of Duccarita. The blinding light reflected off swords, daggers, and helms. In addition to all their other problems, Rathburt saw that there were golden soldiers in attendance. Could it get any worse? He shielded his eyes and stared.
Suddenly, as if leaping from the bedrock itself, a Daasa, transformed from timid to monstrous, sprang from a hole in the stone. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands followed, emerging from the slave pits in a rush of rage. As if in a feeding frenzy, the horrid-looking beasts tore into their captors. Now even the bravest fled. But it was no use. The Daasa were too many and too fierce. The City of Thieves would soon be overrun.
An angry Daasa approached within a single pace. Rathburt had no desire to harm the creature. Even if he managed to kill it, he couldn’t kill the rest. He lowered the war club and his staff, exposing his neck to the beast’s clapping fangs.