by Dan McGirt
“The one with the dragon banners all over it?”
“Right. That is where King Halogen is, I’ll wager. Too cowardly to lead his troops in battle. I’d like to swoop down, cut out his black heart, and bring this war to a quick close.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Yes.”
“It is?”
Merc sighed. “Maybe on the way back. Now is not the time for personal vendettas, alas.”
“How wrong you are,” said a hoarse voice behind us. “Now is a perfect time for vendettas.”
We turned and saw that another flying carpet had skimmed up behind us while we were preoccupied with the scene below. Its rider was covered in deepest crimson, from robes to gloves to hood, with no skin exposed. A jet black horn inlaid with sigils done in reddish-brown blood jade hung from a cord around his neck. At his belt was an ornate obsidian knife.
“Isogoras,” said Mercury.
“Boltblaster,” rasped Isogoras.
They spat each other’s names like curses.
“Have you a sore throat? You sound a bit ragged.” Mercury’s solicitude was blatantly insincere.
“Do you know how much blowing it takes to summon a thousand winged marauders?”
“So that was you. The Horn of Hockessin, I presume?”
“The same.”
“I knew you’d get your grasping hands on it eventually.”
“It is my most prized possession.”
“How nice for you. I have some cufflinks I’m fond of. So what inspired you to finally show your ugly face? Or ugly hood, rather. Run out of incompetent lackeys?” Merc casually reached under his cloak as he spoke.
Isogoras pointed a glowing finger at Merc’s chest. “No, don’t reach for your trademark sunshades that you are inexplicably not already wearing, Boltblaster. We must talk.”
“We have nothing to say to each other.”
“I am under direct orders from the Overmaster Erimandras to induce you to join our order. I would rather see you boiled alive in dragon liver oil.”
“What a coincidence. I would much rather be boiled alive in dragon liver oil than join the Society.”
“It can be arranged. But first the commands of the Overmaster must be obeyed. I warn you that your potential value to our cause does not justify further recruiting efforts. This will be your last chance.”
“Do you mean you’ll finally stop sending me all that junk mail?”
“I mean I will finally have the pleasure of killing you. But before we get to that, let me tell you once again about the many benefits of Society membership.”
“Pay attention, Cosmo. You may find this interesting.”
Isogoras began his recital. “With your low monthly dues you get access to our extensive collection of forbidden arcane knowledge and a new world of evil thrills. You’ll have frequent opportunities to burn, loot, and pillage to your heart’s content in exotic locations throughout the Eleven Kingdoms. You’ll take part in corrupting officials, planning massacres, and plotting the overthrow of mighty monarchs. Men will quake in fear at the mere mention of your name because you’ll be part of a proud tradition of terror more than two thousand years old.”
“This is the good part,” said Merc.
“As a master wizard you already qualify for special benefits such as your own complimentary staff of lackeys, henchmen, goons, minions, and slaves. You’ll also have an unlimited pass to the exclusive Carnality Club where you may shamelessly indulge your baser appetites with the help of a talented staff of lewd and libidinous demonettes. You’ll receive a lifetime subscription to our monthly newsletter, Dark Magic Today, plus a handsome certificate of membership inscribed on genuine human skin and signed by the Overmaster himself. And as an added bonus, if you act now, you’ll get a magic ring of your choice. Plus much, much more.”
“You forgot the toaster oven,” said Merc.
“No more toaster ovens. That was for a limited time only.”
“No toaster oven?”
“So sorry. We might scare up a Society coffee mug.”
“Not the same.”
“Agreed. So, shall I sign you up?”
“Again, I’d prefer Hell.”
“Having been there and back again, I’ll be happy to help you on your way, Boltblaster.” Isogoras patted the black horn. “With this I can send you directly to the Vilest Vales of Hell, where the demon torturers in the Citadel of Endless Agony will gleefully demonstrate to you how that fortress got its name.”
“Go for it.”
“First, I have a message for Jason Cosmo.”
“Me?” I said.
“You. The Overmaster of the Dark Magic Society has authorized me to make you this offer. Surrender to me, tell us what we want to know, and no harm will come to you. We do not wish to waste further effort in apprehending you. We will look favorably upon your cooperation. We will pay you the bounty of gold and give you your own kingdom to rule. If you refuse this generous offer, torture and death will be your lot. What is your answer?”
“It sounds tempting.”
“That is by design.”
“But I’ll pass.”
“So be it.”
We hovered in place during this exchange. Now, with the violence about to begin, Mercury willed our carpet to hurtle upward with such speed that we were pressed flat against the taut fabric. Below us, an expanding stream of toxic yellow jelly flew from Isogoras’s finger and filled the space where we had been. Missing us, it fell to earth, to work its nasty effects on the soldiers below.
Merc halted our ascent and donned his sunshades. “Stay down,” he said. “You’ll make less of a target. We’ve got to get the Horn before he calls up reinforcements.”
It was too late for that. Isogoras flew to meet us, sounding the mournful Horn of Hockessin as he came. Small winged demons the color of blood spewed forth from the instrument. Not only were they bloody of aspect, but blood dripped from their bodies and splattered through the air with every beat of their little bat-like wings. Armed with clanging cymbals, shrill whistles, and tiny trumpets, they made an unholy racket louder than the Horn itself.
“Ouch!” I said, covering my ears. “That grates on the nerves!”
“Bloody nuisances!” shouted Merc. “Small, fast, and irritating! Probably the best Isogoras can manage with his sore throat, but they can drive us mad with their Decibels of Damnation!”
“I’ll say!”
“Take out the Horn as we pass!”
We dove into the cloud of nuisances, Mercury crisping as many as he could with bursts from his sunshades. I stayed low until we were almost upon Isogoras, then leapt up and swung my axe. I struck the Horn. Although the blow did not damage the instrument, my axe knocked it from his grasp and snapped the lanyard. The Horn of Hockessin went spinning away. A final brace of bloody nuisances emerged from it as it fell.
“Good work!”
But we still had a cloud of the monsters trailing us. The nuisances followed us despite Mercury’s insane evasive maneuvers, which involved gut-wrenching changes of direction and even flying upside down, held in place only by the enchantment of the rug. Most of my breakfast exited my belly the way it had come in.
“The sound is making me crazy!”
“Swing that axe! You’re sure to hit some of them!”
Isogoras fell in behind us and drew the obsidian knife from his belt. Merc fired sunbursts at him, but the evil mage dodged and weaved around them.
“How is he going to stab us from way back there?” I asked.
“He’s not!”
Isogoras hurled the knife at us. Mercury banked into a swift climb. “The fool! Gravity will pull the knife—”
“Up after us!” I said.
The knife soared upward, gaining speed. Glowing red, it sliced through a nuisance that got in its way.
“A heat seeker! I can’t shake it!” said Merc.
The volcanic glass reverted to a molten state while retaining its form. It hit our
carpet with a hot splash. The back half of the rug burst into flame.
“Not good!” I said.
“We’re going down!” said Merc.
“Oh, is the ground is getting closer? I hadn’t noticed!”
Isogoras soared above us, taunting. “I am sure you will get a warm reception from King Halogen, Boltblaster!”
“We’re going down,” repeated Merc. “And we’re taking him with us.”
Isogoras slowed to deliver his taunt, giving Merc a clear shot with the sunshades. The spectacles flashed. Our enemy’s carpet burst into flame.
“Curse you, Boltblaster!” Isogoras plummeted and veered off to the west.
“I really should think of a good parting line,” said Merc. “But we’ve got a bigger problem.”
“Smacking into the ground at terminal velocity?” I asked, beating ineffectually at the flames.
“I don’t think we can reach the river,” said Merc, through gritted teeth. “The rug is not responding. Do you see anything to cushion our fall?”
“The big green tent?”
Merc smiled wickedly. “I can manage that.”
Fire licked at our backs as our magic carpet banked toward Halogen’s pavilion. The spell holding us in place weakened as the unburnt portions of the carpet went limp. We skimmed in low over the encampment. Soldiers pointed and shouted. An archer took a shot at us. We ripped through a dragon banner and crashed into the billowing roof of the tent, causing the whole structure to collapse like an imploding green cloud.
*****
Chapter 16
Stunned, rattled, and possibly upside down, I found myself blanketed in heavy green canvas. From all around me came excited voices—but muffled, as at a distance. It hurt to move. It hurt to think about moving. It hurt not to move. I considered the merits of passing out.
“Fire!” a voice called.
That got my attention. I wondered just where the fire was. I noticed that it was getting hot inside my canvas cocoon.
Very hot.
More voices reached me.
“Your Royal Supremacy, are you injured?”
“I’m unharmed, you sniveling cur! But I’ll have the incompetent swine who erected this tent flayed alive!”
Good help was so hard to find these days.
“They were assassins from the sky, Your Majesty!”
“What did you call me?”
“Your Royal Omnipotence?”
“Royal Supremacy, you dolt! No, wait—Omnipotence! I like that better! A promotion for you. Now what were you saying?”
“They flew in on a magic bath towel, burning like...like a flying campfire.”
“What inspired imagery.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“Continue, fool!”
“They flew right into your royal omnipotent tent and tore it down!”
How interesting. In my dazed state, I dimly recalled being quite recently in the sky myself, aboard a burning carpet that—uh-oh!
I came to my senses. I was ensnared in the folds of King Halogen’s collapsed pavilion, which our ruined rug had ignited. I felt about for my battle axe. No luck. So I was unarmed in the middle of a hostile camp and about to be roasted alive.
This day had started so well.
“We’ve got one of them!”
“Bring the dog to me!” snarled Halogen. “By the crown on my brow! Mercury Boltblaster! The selfsame vile sorcerer who bewitched my beloved has been delivered into my hands by his own folly!”
Merc was alive. Good. But not for long by the sound of it. I burrowed through the cloth until I could see what was happening.
King Halogen was a tall man dressed for a royal ball, not a battlefield. He had a flowing mane of wavy brown hair, a conventionally handsome face marred mainly by his arrogant sneer, and blue eyes fogged with vanity. He wore a crown made of gold, green velvet, and large emeralds surmounted by the figure of a dragon with unfurled wings. He was surrounded by knights in green plate armor.
Two mercenary soldiers held a glassy-eyed Mercury between them. His body was limp. His feet dragged on the ground, not supporting his weight at all. He had lost his sunshades and seemed barely aware of his surroundings. Halogen struck him across the face with his scepter. Merc’s head merely lolled to one side.
There would be no wizarding our way out of this one.
While soldiers pulled nobles and servants from the wreckage of the tent, a hastily assembled bucket brigade relayed water from the nearby stream to fight the fire. My hiding place wasn’t aflame just yet, but it would go up soon. I couldn’t stay here. But revealing myself would mean instant capture.
No, it wouldn’t! I cursed myself for a fool. No one here knew who I was. I could transform my clothing into an Orphalian uniform and blend in until I figured out how to rescue Merc. In the excitement of his capture, the Orphalians had apparently forgotten there were two men aboard the flying carpet.
Uniform set, I squirmed out of the collapsed tent. I again felt the surging strength of ten men, possibly eleven, suffuse my limbs. That was something to keep in mind as I formed my plan. But I had to act soon, for I had no idea how long Halogen would let his most hated enemy live.
I helped fight the fire so that I could remain near enough to observe their one sided confrontation. Halogen smacked Mercury with the scepter again.
“She loves me, sorcerer! Only your wicked spells have kept her from rushing to my arms all these years!” He struck Merc once more. “Now that I have come to claim her at last, you fear me! You know that my manly might can free her at last from your ensorcelments and so you came to assassinate me! Great shall be your suffering this day!” He hit Merc a fourth time. “Why don’t you answer me, dog?”
“Perhaps if his Extremely Supremely Royal Omnipotence would not strike him so, the evil wizard could regain consciousness,” suggested one of the nobles.
“Extremely Supremely Royal Omnipotence, eh? I like that! I’ll make you a grand duke!”
“You made me a grand duke yesterday, sire.”
“Then I’ll make you a grander duke! Your suggestion has merit. Let him be trussed to a stake. Revive him with cold water and bring me some hot knives, vegetable peelers, eyelash curlers, and other implements of torture. Well, what are you ignorant ingrates waiting for? A royal decree? Ha! That was one! Move!”
I abandoned my firefighting efforts and slipped through the camp, looking for anything that might be useful in making our escape. I passed a number of tethered war horses, already saddled for Halogen’s noble knights. I strapped on an unguarded sword. I found the exit from the stockade, noting the guards at the gate. They were few in number, with most of the men busy fighting the fire.
Upon completing my reconnaissance, I had a wild but workable plan in mind. I returned to the spot where Mercury, stripped to the waist, was bound to a thick wooden post freshly erected in the open space near one of the palisade gates. He was awake now, and fully alert. Good. I would need his help for my plan to work. I edged my way through the crowd gathered around him, mostly nobles who were exempt from the dirty work of fighting fires. When I was directly opposite Merc I gave him a quick wave. He winked in acknowledgment.
Halogen strutted toward him. He held a whip knotted with shards of glass. “Today you pay for your many crimes against me, sorcerer! You will soon beg for my mercy, but none shall be forthcoming. Before I am finished, you will rue the day you stole Raella from me with your dark magic!”
“Halogen, you’re still the pompous, preening, power-mad pretty-boy princeling you were the last time we met. Your father’s body can’t even be cold in the grave and you are invading a kingdom that has been Orphalia’s ally for generations simply because you can’t accept the fact that Raella Shurbenholt is far too good for a psychotic weasel like you.”
“Liar! She is the only woman ever to refuse me, proof enough that she has been put under some foul spell. She is rightfully mine, promised to me from birth for a marriage that will unite our kingdoms f
or all time!”
“Then it’s the land you love, not the lady.”
Halogen cracked the whip, gashing Mercury’s cheek. It was time to act. The fire at the king’s tent was almost out, but the Orphalians would soon have more flames to contend with. Slipping away from the crowd, I snatched a blazing brand from an untended cooking fire and ran for the horses, raking the torch against every tent I passed. A soldier tried to stop me. I smacked him in the face with the torch. He fell heavily to the ground. I mounted a horse and took off through the camp, merrily igniting more tents.
When at least half the camp was ablaze, I plunged my steed into the group around Mercury, scattering nobles and soldiers alike.
“Stop him!” screamed Halogen. I clubbed the Orphalian king with the blazing brand, sending his crown flying.
Drawing up beside the stake, I wrapped my arms around it and wrenched it from the ground with my supernatural strength.
“What are you doing?” asked Merc, still bound to the post.
“Rescuing you!”
“Like this? Cut me loose!”
“No time!”
I rode for the gate, holding the post before me like a thick lance. Soldiers tripped over themselves getting out of our path. The quick-thinking guards shut and barred the exit, but it did them no good. I hit the gate full tilt, smashing it open with the post.
“That hurt!” said Merc.
“Sorry!”
I lowered the end of the post, drew my stolen sword, and cut my partner free. He climbed onto the saddle behind me. I turned south.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine. I was stunned in the crash, else they never would have seized me.” He rubbed his jaw gingerly. “That might leave a scar. Now turn around and head for the river.”
“I was making for the Raelnan lines.”
“By going through the entire Orphalian army?”
“Good point.” I wheeled the horse about.
Two dozen green knights thundered out of the camp behind us, their mounts churning the turf beneath iron-shod hooves as they galloped across the grassy river plain.
“You should have scattered the other horses,” said Merc.