Harris strutted to the sidelines, requisitioning a stack of crates as a soapbox. He mounted them, and then shouted at the throng.
“Listen to me!”
This did little, but Buhippus corralled them. Cheowie and Oustestee followed suit, and soon the Cetrone squadrons brought ragtag order to the rabble.
“Listen to me,” Harris shouted again. “We’ve come to set you free.”
“Looks like you have,” came an anonymous shout. “Many of the dead are free, indeed.”
The crowd grumbled, shaking fists and waddly wazzoos.
“Many more will fall before we’re done,” Harris shouted.
The mob grew angrier, but Buhippus fired his Stick over their heads.
“Listen to Lord Belmundus,” the rough and tumbled ex-cop proclaimed. “Consider yourselves dead already and you shall be better off for what comes next. The regulati are scourging the Kanaguda. The Banetuckle will be next, and then the clan houses — starting, no doubt, with the chisqua yehu. And where do they take your brothers and sisters, your children and parents. Where?” Tense silence. “To the Gonada Gigaha.”
Collective murmurs of horror grasped the crowd.
“But we shall not let it pass,” Harris said over the mounting noise. “We shall move together. We shall drive them out. We shall save our people.”
“With what?” came a solitary cry, followed by incredulous echoes.
“With these,” Oustestee yelled, grasping Buhippus’ Stick, raising it above his head. “With the enemy’s weapons. We have aniniya for all.”
A murmur of hope stirred. Harris looked to Oustestee
“You split your squadron?”
“Yes, my lord, as ordered. They are already in the sustiya gathering the necessary ordinance for distribution.”
“They cannot shoot,” Parnasus remarked. “It takes some skill to shoot.”
“Quick lessons, and practical ones too, Parnasus. But I don’t care if they shoot with them or crack the Yunockers over the head. They must liberate themselves. We’re just keys in the lock.” Parnasus appeared skeptical. “We didn’t ram our heads into these walls so the people could climb back into their holes and wallow in bowls of sqwallen.” He turned to Oustestee. “Get these people armed. And that means with anything they have. Pitchforks and carpet bats will be fine if they can hit a Yunocker’s head out of the ballpark.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Cheowie.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Find Estatoie and get him back here. I want the addled zombies trucked out.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Gather them at the beachhead. Get your wadi-wadi working. If you can call the Fustigars drivers, get them to gingergust the outer walls. Pull these poor bastards to safety.”
“Many cannot count to eighty.”
“So be it, but many still can and will.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Harris turned to Buhippus, who stood amazed at Harris.
“What, captain?” Harris asked.
“I stand in awe of your fire, Lord Belmundus. You have come far.”
“And I’ll not stop here. Lead me to this Kalligalli.”
“The Kanaguda,”
“Whatever.”
Harris took a deep breath, gripped Friend Tony, and then kick-started his zulus. Detonto raced to his side. Buhippus led.
3
The stench of the Banetuckle appalled Harris. He could hear the stifled chokes of the patrol, which followed him into this stinking hell. They were all on zulus now, armed to the teeth, but, in the current situation, with only eighteen men against an angry enemy garrison¸ they could have used a Sherman tank. As they zipped through the narrow maze of alleys, a shadow cast over their path. Harris didn’t need to look up to see the Gananadana drifting toward the place of execution. Cosawta wouldn’t undertake the mission single-handedly — he and Tomatly! Tomatly! The Seneschal wouldn’t relinquish the advantage of surprise either, although how one hides a waddly wazzoo powered zeppelin was beyond Harris’ imagination. Still, Cosawta was resourceful, so Harris concentrated on his own mucky mission.
“Lord Belmundus,” Buhippus said. “Ahead they lie in wait for us.”
“An ambush? How do you know?”
“I was one of them. I know the drill.”
Harris slowed, and then raised his hand, halting his crew. He landed, and then looked for cover. There was little here but rotting kaleezos, splintered rails and a full degree of rubble — a place fallen through neglect and ambivalence. He pointed to both sides of the street.
“Half there. The rest with me.”
They scattered, Buhippus, Parnasus and Detonto cleaving to Harris.
“Now what?” he asked, to no one in particular.
In fact, he didn’t expect an answer. He received none. Harris trained his eyes on the road bend ahead. Ominously quiet. The klaxon had ceased and only murmurs could be heard. They could have been in a windswept New Mexican ghost town. He expected tumbleweed. He turned to Buhippus.
“We can’t dawdle here forever,” he whispered. “What do you suggest?”
“Cover me,” Buhippus replied.
Harris and Parnasus took aim — Stick and brashun blade, while Detonto raised his blundaboomer. Buhippus scurried around the corner, dodging to the next hide — an overturned barrel, which the Gurts called a vargos. Here he peered carefully over its girth, and then waved Harris forward. Parnasus covered Harris, who zipped to the hide on his zulus. There wasn’t much room behind the vargos, so they needed to clear out before the others could move forward.
Buhippus rushed to the next hide — a woodpile, standing sentinel on a lopsided yehu porch. Harris zipped across the street to a pothole, large enough to envelop him, but just. Detonto rushed forward now, followed by Parnasus. The rest of the squadron dithered for as much cover as they could find. Still, relative quiet prevailed — ominous, and not to Harris’ liking. Then he heard whimpering. He zipped to the remains of a kaleezo, flattening against a wall. Then carefully peeking around the corner, he spotted a dozen Cetrone corralled in the center of a square — the place known as the Kanaguda — the divide between the Banetuckle and the gate garrison. The Cetrone were tethered, locked in a circle, and quietly whimpering. Their fate was clear. However, they were lightly guarded.
Buhippus shook his head, trying to discourage Harris’ next action. But Lord Belmundus couldn’t leave these lightly guarded men shackled. He counted only three guards. The regulati were outnumbered. The advantage was too good to let pass. So Harris waved to his crew, despite Buhippus’ warning.
The silence was broken, Harris howling like a banshee. The others joined in this war whoop and attacked.
The guards ran — an odd response for Yunockers, but Harris didn’t waste time.
“Untie them,” he told Detonto, who mustered the others to help.
“You must do this quickly,” Buhippus said. “This is not what it seems.”
“You still expect an ambush?”
“This is an ambush, but because we know it to be so, we will not be surprised when we die.”
Harris’ blood ran cold. He heard shuffling feet and barking. The Kanaguda was now alive with Yunockers appearing from the surrounding buildings, fully armed and zugginak’d. The prisoners had been freed, but what was the point?
“We won’t go down easy,” Harris shouted, touching his Columbincus.
The Yunockers released the zugginaks — only three, but three were three too many. Buhippus and Parnasus scattered, wielding their weapons in ways only a skilled dogcatcher could. Harris didn’t have time to watch and learn. He pulled the prisoners to their feet.
“Out of here,” he insisted. “Forget everything else.”
“They say they were destined for the Gonada Gigaha, my lord,” Detonto reported.
“I think we’re all destined for that place, one way or the other.”
Harris pushed his crew toward an archway, the only area not co
vered by Yunocker guards. However, it was draped with spirals of Yuyenihi, that dastard barbed wire bedeviling the Kalugu.
Buhippus managed to down one zugginak, while Parnasus was on the road to killing another. Harris raised Hierarchus, aiming it at the third.
Flash. Howl.
Direct hit, and the fur flew, not to mention a few Yunockers, who perhaps had second thoughts about confronting an Ayelli lord. But after the blood had been drained from the pooch, a barrage of aniniya rolled across the Kanaguda.
Harris sought cover again. None. Even the road back to the Banetuckle was blocked by the regulati.
“Sorry I doubted you,” Harris said to Buhippus.
“Sorry you did also, but if it did not happen here, it would have happened elsewhere.”
Harris suddenly registered this thought — the hopelessness of the situation. His gut clenched with thoughts of never seeing Littafulchee or Yustichisqua again. When had he forgotten Santa Monica and the red carpet? Still, he wasn’t prepared to die. He was only nineteen, after all, and as good a cause as this might be, it was an adaptation at best.
Harris raised Hierarchus again, and then unsheathed Tony. Two brashun blades are better than one. He clenched his ass cheeks and spit. He felt a rush from his dickey foot to his feathery crown. A wave of Columbincus poured from the swords, joining above Yunocker heads.
“Duck,” he screamed, and his crew hit the ground to avoid the weapon’s might.
The yehu and kaleezos shook, windows breaking and roof tiles avalanching onto walkways and porches. Yunockers flew in all directions. When the dust cleared, their numbers were thinned, but not enough to assure a victory.
Harris was drained. He staggered.
“Do not fall, my lord,” Detonto said. “If you fall, so shall we.”
“I don’t think I’ve another bolt like that up my ass — not any time soon.”
Buhippus and Parnasus led the squad, firing at the now-charging guards. The end had come. Prisoner and rescuer would fall with honor, but they would fall. Then an amazing thing happened — one of those things Harris had read in many passed over scripts. He would have never believed it. The Yunockers were distracted — turning and watching their rears. Cetrone rushed at them — armed Cetrone — some skilled, others swinging bats and clubs, but their numbers were such, it took Harris’ breath away.
“Oustestee,” he muttered.
“And Cheowie,” Detonto added. “Maybe Estatoie too, my lord.”
Suddenly, the Yunockers were pushed off their feet, beaten and clubbed. Blundaboomers shot and Sticks did their best to find targets, which were easy now with so many targets.
“This amazes me,” Buhippus said. “I never thought I should see the day when the Kalugu raised its hands to give my brethren their due.”
The quiet of the Kanaguda became a thing of legend: how the Yunockers meant to capture Lord Belmundus and bind him to the Gonada Gigaha. Generations would tell the tale of a thousand clubs bashing enemy heads, and how, after the savaging had passed, the former Trones knelt to their leader — an Ayelli Lord now of the seegoniga clan, the consort of Scepta Littafulchee. This Lord had come into their midst and showed them how to be free again using the fabled blades called Tony and Hierarchus, and the sheer force of his magnitude, because he was a spark and a luminary — a new star in Farn’s vast firmament.
Chapter Seven
The Gonada Gigaha
1
The way to the Gonada Gigaha was blocked by yuyenihi — thick, sharp and spiraled. A Seecoy could hop over the wall, but the Kanaguda was a vehicular void. Zulus might take a glide over, but most in the Cetrone throng were zululess, having shed them in protest. There were too few warriors to fight the next battle alone. The mob’s thrust was needed. Harris thought to use brashun blades to cut through, but that would only accommodate a single file and at great risk. He pondered the barbed-wire with his back to the crowd.
“I wonder, my lord,” Detonto said, toying with his blundaboomer.
“Any thoughts you have, Detonto, would be better than any I’ve got now.”
“I wonder whether wadi-wadi would work here.”
“That’s for transforming phitron. This barrier looks like conontoroy or yustunalla.”
“Still.”
Detonto raised his weapon, a gingergust canister weighted to one side. Before Harris could speculate further, Detonto fired, startling the assembly. He shrugged, and then raced forward.
“Wait,” Harris shouted. “Just because you hit it, doesn’t mean it worked.”
“Only one way to find out,” Detonto replied, approaching the twisted blade work.
“Stop.”
Detonto ignored him.
“Start counting, my lord.”
Detonto crashed into the yuyenihi. The coils shook, but swallowed the Taleenay, his voice vaguely counting.
“It worked,” Harris mused.
“What worked?” Buhippus asked.
“Hard to explain, captain. But watch, and perhaps it’ll be self-evident.”
Harris held his breath and mentally counted. He was beyond eighty, but that didn’t matter. He was never precise at it anyway. Then, Detonto emerged unscathed, but breathless.
“Ninety-seven,” he shouted.
“Excellent,” Oustestee yelped. “Here and back again.”
Harris opened his arms, embracing Detonto, who tried to regain steady breathing. He resisted the hug, but nodded profusely.
“It appears wadi-wadi will transform other elements, my lord.”
“Astounding,” Parnasus said.
“Yes,” Harris exclaimed. “It’s a remarkable invention.” He turned to his Danuwa. “Remind me to erect on this exact spot a statue of the Culpeeper Brothers. On the plaque it will read — dedicated to the faith of a brave Cetrone named Detonto, son of Lord Cosawta, Seneschal of Zacker.”
“Bastard son,” Detonto corrected.
“I believe all your father’s sons are bastards, so what’s the point?”
“Zacker?” Buhippus asked.
Harris grinned. The world was behind the times when it came to Cetronia’s secrets.
“You have much catching up, captain.”
“It would appear so.”
Harris looked to his Danuwa.
“Oustestee. Cheowie. Estatoie. Get the wadi-wadi going,” The lieutenants immediately prepared to blast the yuyenihi. “Detonto, are you up for pulling a chain of kaybar-challenged people through the blade work?”
“I am honored to do it, my lord.”
Buhippus and Parnasus appeared puzzled, but Harris latched onto them, while Detonto caught Parnasus’ hand.
“Do we need to count?” Harris asked.
“We do not even need to shoot, my lord,” Detonto said. “The change appears permanent.”
Harris caught Parnasus’ hip as this train left the station. Unlike passing through phitron walls, the yuyenihi was opened on three sides. But the blades were worrisome. They didn’t cut, but Harris’ flesh swallowed them nonetheless. No cuts, but thoughts of being sliced like bologna gave him pause.
“Strange journey,” Buhippus muttered as they reemerged into another courtyard, one bounded by a high wall — an assailable phitron obstacle, easily penetrated when time and plan was settled.
“The gang’s all here,” Harris said, watching the Cetrone squeamishly engage the wadi-wadi passage, red puffs continuously blasting through the archway.
“How does it work?” Parnasus asked.
“Beats me,” Harris replied. “I mean, I thought I knew when it worked its witchy-woo on plain old fucking phitron. This effect on conontoroy and yustunalla is a new twist — one I don’t think the inventers even realize.”
“They might, my lord,” Detonto said. “My father often told of experimentation. That is why I made the attempt.”
“You’ve saved the day.”
“Perhaps, my lord.” He gazed up at the next wall. “Perhaps not. But might I make a suggestion?”
“Absolutely.”
“Since the count is no longer relevant, the incessant wadi-wadi blasting is not necessary.”
“You’re right. We’re wasting gingergust.”
Buhippus stared at Harris, bewildered by the new term, but Harris signaled his Danuwa to assemble.
Belmundus (The Farn Trilogy Book 1) Page 72