by Dan McGirt
“Enough!” ordered Isogoras from his perch on Golan’s back. “Leave him to us! Bring the wizard!”
With expressions of profound disappointment, the nymphs released me to bob in the pool with dozens of goblin corpses. A Black Bolt urged his gryphon mount down to pluck me from the water with its talons and deposit me on shore. The beast was not gentle about it. I lay gasping on the grass. Golan the dragon alighted, taking up most of the clearing. Natalia and Isogoras dismounted.
“Are these yours?” rasped the wizard, dropping my helm, shield, and sword beside me. I coughed and spat in reply. “Did you think we were unaware of this place?”
“I was,” I wheezed.
“The Society knows all.”
“You got lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” A cloud of prying eyes flew into view. “I have observed your every move since you entered the Forest. You never suspected a thing! I gathered my hirelings and waited for the proper moment to seize you. Now you are mine to deliver to Erimandras the Overmaster.” He drew a long, slim dagger from his belt. “But first, my revenge!”
“What did I do?”
“You cost me my most prized possession, the Horn of Hockessin! I was unable to find it after our encounter, so you must pay! The Overmaster won’t mind if you are missing a hand, an ear, an eye, perhaps your nose.”
Before Isogoras could begin his grisly surgery, the three nymphs surfaced with Merc in their grasp. A Black Bolt snatched him from the water and dropped him beside me.
“Sorry I’m late,” he gasped.
“Mercury Boltblaster, we meet again,” said Isogoras. “There is no escape for you this time.”
Merc ignored the Xornite. “Natalia. Slumming, are you?”
“His gold is as good as any,” said Natalia. “Plus the ten million for Cosmo. Not a bad day’s work.”
Merc sneered at Isogoras. “Afraid to face me again without help?”
“Too much is at stake for me to take chances,” rasped the masked wizard. “I have you. I have Cosmo. I even have the relics of the so-called Mighty Champion. All of which will enable me to depose Erimandras when I return to Fortress Marn.”
Natalia’s eyes narrowed in cold calculation at the wizard’s words, but she said nothing.
“Ever ambitious,” said Merc.
“Did I say that last bit out loud?” said Isogoras. “Enough prattle! Bind them, Natalia!”
“Mind your tone when you address me, wizard!” said Natalia. But she complied with his instructions, retrieving chains and manacles from her saddlebag. I glanced at Merc. He winked.
Wizards recover quickly. Merc was merely stalling our captors until he was ready to act. My own natural hardiness was augmented by the Blessing of Rae here in the sunshine. I sprang to my feet and held out my hands. With a telekinetic boost from Merc my sword, shield and helm flew into place. Merc pulled a saber from his cloak. We stood back to back.
Natalia dropped the chains and drew her own sword, the family blade she had evidently recovered from the Longwash. “Cosmo is mine!” she shouted.
“Drop the sword, Boltblaster, or my men will shoot,” said Isogoras, indicating the Black Bolts circling above. “Even you can’t turn twenty arrows at once.”
Merc thrust his weapon into the ground at Isogoras’s feet.
I was on my own.
Natalia’s attack was swift and brutal, but Overwhelm and Gardswell were equal to it. I certainly wasn’t. According to Merc, Natalia was one of the best fighters in the Eleven Kingdoms. I held on tightly and let Overwhelm guide my arm, praying the sword was good enough to save me. None of Natalia’s furious blows struck home, but I was clearly on the defensive. She forced me steadily back towards the river, where the wicked nymphs waited, hooting with malicious glee, hoping for a second go at me.
They would not get the chance. Once I lost my footing in the water, Natalia would win. Overwhelm’s enchantment, even backed by my sun soaked strength, was no match for her skill.
While all eyes were on our duel, Merc reached stealthily into his cloak. He whipped his hand free, releasing his entire stock of flares. Half soared upward to burst amid the hovering Black Bolts. Spooked gryphons flew out of control in every direction. The remaining flares went off near the ground. The goblins fled, their visors offering no protection against a light so bright and near. One flare burst in the face of Isogoras and another next to Natalia. Several detonated around Golan’s massive purple head, stunning the dragon into numbed blindness.
Blinking, I staggered and fell backward into the pool. The nymphs surged toward me, only to stop at the sight of Mercury’s outstretched hands crackling with arcane energy. The nymphs melted into the water. Merc helped me to my feet.
We ran for the trees.
“What now?” I asked, rubbing my eyes as we passed a group of screeching, disoriented goblins. Streamers of bright light from the flares penetrated the gloom beneath the trees.
“Just run until we think of something!”
“Isn’t this the part where the friendly green spiders save us?”
“We already did that scene. They’re long gone.”
“So we run? We do a lot of this.”
“It’s good exercise.”
Merc abruptly fell flat on his face. He lay unmoving on the ground. I knelt beside him. “Merc!”
He was unconscious. Removing my helmet, I bent close to check his breathing.
The goblins, back in their element, regrouped and headed our way. I scooped up my friend’s inert form and flung him over my shoulder.
I felt a sharp sting on the side of my neck. I reached up and pulled a tiny black dart from my skin, the kind shot from a blowgun.
It was marked with the symbol of a crescent moon.
Everything went black.
*****
Chapter 20
I awoke. My hands were bound behind me and my feet tied together with thick leather cords. The air was cold. The stony ground upon which I lay was lightly dusted with snow. Even the dim light of a hazy grey sky seemed dazzling after the ceaseless gloom of the Incredibly Dark Forest.
I rolled onto my back for a better view of my surroundings. The terrain was mountainous, an array of cliffs and gorges and weathered rocky hills. Mercury lay nearby, still unconscious, also bound. His cloak was missing. Nearby, a rickety suspension bridge with frayed ropes and broken footboards spanned a deep chasm. On the far side was a wall of vegetation that unmistakably marked the western verge of the Incredibly Dark Forest.
“You awaken. Good. I am BlackMoon.”
The soft stiletto voice startled me. I looked up and saw the bounty hunter standing over me. He hadn’t been there an instant before. Dressed in close-fitting black garments, he was lean and hard, a living dagger of a man. His yellow-green eyes were cat-like, vertical pupil and all. He really could see in the dark.
“I hoped we would have a chance to speak. I wish to thank you for a splendid hunt.”
“You’re welcome. Where are we?”
“Malravia. This is the rendezvous point where I will deliver you and your companion to the Dark Magic Society and collect my reward.” He frowned. “A pity.”
“Why?”
“As I say, this has been a splendid hunt. It is the chase I love, not the pecuniary rewards. My skills are such, however, that I am rarely so challenged as I have been in pursuing you.”
“I was a challenge?”
“It was not so much a matter of any great ability on your part as it was the interesting circumstances through which you led me."
"Oh."
"I held back, savoring the pursuit and waiting for the perfect moment take you down. Stealing you from Natalia Slash and Isogoras the Xornite in the heart of the Incredibly Dark Forest was exquisite.”
“If chasing me is such fun, let me go and we’ll do it again.”
“Every hunt must end, alas. It is time I turned to other pursuits.”
Mercury stirred and rolled onto his back. He
took in the situation at once. “Malravia. Wonderful. Haven’t been here in years. You must be BlackMoon.”
The bounty hunter nodded.
“I’ve admired your work,” said Merc. “Though I’m none too wild about this particular demonstration of your skills.”
“Thank you,” said BlackMoon.
“Just out of curiosity, how did you manage to transport the two of us out of the Incredibly Dark Forest? I assume it has been several days since our capture and that you kept us drugged during the journey.”
“Indeed, this is the fifth day since your capture,” said BlackMoon. “I find ComaDose effectively subdues captives for transport. It slows respiration and other body functions to very low levels.”
“You prefer it to DormaDose or Torporex?”
“DormaDose is useful as a tactical sleep agent, but less practical for maintaining extended unconsciousness. Torporex is powerful, and in some ways superior to ComaDose, but I find the side effects unpredictable. Permanent brain damage and the like.”
“Most considerate of you,” said Merc. “But surely you didn’t carry both of us yourself?”
“Naturally not,” said BlackMoon. “My jujula bore you.”
“What is a jujula?” I asked.
“A low order of spirit being sometimes enslaved by wizards in need of cheap physical labor,” explained Merc. “But you, BlackMoon, are no mage. I imagine your jujula are bound to serve the bearer of some magical talisman you possess?”
“I do not care to discuss my methods further,” said BlackMoon, suddenly suspicious.
“Fair enough,” said Merc. “Will the Society be here soon?”
“Enough talk. I only allowed you to awaken that I might express my appreciation to you for giving me a good hunt. It is now time for you to sleep again.”
BlackMoon produced a smoke-colored glass vial from his belt pouch.
“Don’t bother,” said Merc, casually slipping out of his bonds. He sprang to his feet and assumed a fighting stance.
BlackMoon reacted instantly, hurling the vial at Merc’s face and ripping a slim black dagger from the sheath on his thigh.
Merc batted the bottle aside. It shattered harmlessly on the rocks. “My training included a course in escaping all manner of bonds.”
“I know,” said BlackMoon. “We had many of the same teachers.”
“You were hoping this would happen,” said Merc.
“I have long wished to test my fighting skills against yours. You defeated the Red Huntsman with your magic, but you will not beat me that way. I dosed you with NoArcane, the most powerful spellcasting inhibitor on the market. It prevents your brain from properly conducting magical energies. This will be a fair fight.”
“You have a knife,” noted Merc. “I don’t.”
“You are welcome to take mine. If you can.”
BlackMoon darted forward, leading with the black dagger. Merc deflected the attack and jabbed his stiffened hand at the bounty hunter’s throat. BlackMoon dodged to the side and slashed at Merc again. This time Merc tagged his wrist with a hand numbing blow to the nerve center there. The knife went skittering across the ground.
“Impressive,” said BlackMoon, snapping a kick at Merc’s face. The hunter was taller and had a reach advantage, but Merc was slightly quicker. He sidestepped the kick and countered with one of his own. They continued in this fashion for several minutes, not speaking, rarely landing blows, evenly matched. The only sounds were the scuffling of their feet in the gravel and occasional sharp exhalations of breath.
Knowing no secret methods for escaping my bonds, I rolled toward the dagger. It lay near the edge of the chasm separating us from the Incredibly Dark Forest. The sheer cliff face descended hundreds of feet to the raging rapids of the River Volkus.
I worked my fingers around the haft of the dagger and scuttled back a safe distance. As Merc and BlackMoon continued their silent battle, I rolled onto my side, bent my legs back, and slashed the thong binding my ankles. Sitting up, I tried for the bindings on my wrists but quickly realized that feat was beyond my dexterity.
Dropping the knife, I lurched to my feet and charged toward the combatants. BlackMoon had his back to me. If I could ram into him, it would give Merc the opening he needed to finish the fight.
BlackMoon stepped aside an instant before impact. I skidded to a halt and turned for another try. BlackMoon stopped me with a kick to the chest that sent me reeling. I tumbled to the ground.
But I achieved my aim. Merc pressed BlackMoon aggressively, forcing him back with a flurry of deadly kicks and punches. I rolled behind the hunter, hoping he would trip over me. BlackMoon avoided me with a graceful backward leap.
I now lay between the combatants. Darting hands and feet whistled above me. Then Merc leapt over me, forcing BlackMoon back. Inevitably, they edged closer, ever closer, to the cliff.
Now BlackMoon took the offensive. It became clear that his retreat was a ploy to draw Merc into this danger zone where the slightest misstep would mean a plunge into the unforgiving rapids. BlackMoon, with years of experience chasing his prey through every kind of environment, was more surefooted than Merc, giving him the upper hand once more.
I stood, but dared not charge again lest I hurl myself over the cliff.
BlackMoon launched rapid combinations of blows intended to overbalance the wizard. Eventually Merc would make an error and BlackMoon would send him over the edge. He would collect no bounty for Merc if that happened. But the ten million on my head would more than compensate him for the loss.
Merc extended himself too far while deflecting a blow. He slipped. While he struggled for footing, BlackMoon gave him a sharp shove. Merc fell.
I charged, deciding that Merc, his killer, and I would all go down together. I lowered my head and butted BlackMoon in the back between his shoulders. My suicidal attack took him by surprise. The two of us tottered on the brink for a frozen instant, then fell.
Merc was just below us, in the first instants of freefall. With astonishing quickness his hands darted out and found a hold in a fissure just a few feet below the cliff rim.
Reflexively, I scissored my legs around his waist, anchoring myself, albeit upside down. BlackMoon snaked his arms through the loop formed by my own bound arms. I gaped down past his impassive face at the churning waters far below.
“Well, Jason,” said Merc. “This is another fine mess we’re in.”
“How long can you hold on?”
“A minute or two at most. I can’t climb hauling both of you.”
“What about one of us?” I said, narrowing my eyes at BlackMoon.
“That I might manage.”
“I have a better suggestion,” said BlackMoon.
“I’ll bet you do.”
“I see a handhold that will support me. If the two of you hold still, I can reach the level ground and pull you up. If you let me pass. You could easily dislodge me as I climb, but then we will all die.”
“How can we trust you?”
“If you prefer, we can wait until the wizard loses his grip and, again, we all die.”
“Instead we should place ourselves at your mercy?”
“You began this day at my mercy. Now I am at yours. Doubt me and we die. Cooperate and we live.”
“Until the Society shows up.”
“That is no affair of mine. You are no longer my prisoners. We will go our separate ways in peace.”
“Cosmo!” gasped Merc. “My fingers are slipping! Quit debating and let the man climb!”
“Okay. Go!”
BlackMoon reached out for the cliff, got a handhold, then a toehold, and let go of me completely.
“Much better,” said Merc through clenched teeth.
BlackMoon clambered up the face of the rock and pulled himself onto level ground. He extended an arm for Mercury to grasp and slowly pulled both of us up.
“Now what?” said Merc.
BlackMoon raised his open hands. “There is no need for further co
nflict. In appreciation of your courage and skill, I will forego the bounty on your heads this day.”
“Thank you,” said Merc, with a slight bow.
“I have arranged for a delegation from the Dark Magic Society to meet me here this afternoon,” continued BlackMoon. “I suggest you not be in the vicinity at that time. The NoArcane should wear off within an hour, wizard. Here are your belongings.”
The jujula shimmered into translucent visibility. They were vaguely manlike forms bearing large packs. One handed me Overwhelm, Gardswell, and my armor. The other returned Mercury’s cloak. Then they became invisible again.
“Now I bid you farewell,” said BlackMoon. “Perhaps we will meet again.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Merc.
With that, the hunter crossed the bridge back into the Incredibly Dark Forest. He soon passed from view.
“Now what?” I asked, donning my armor and strapping on Overwhelm.
Mercury fastened his cloak. “We continue with our original plan. We carry the fight to the Society.”
“How?”
“We’ll start by questioning whomever comes to collect us here. I’m guessing it won’t be Isogoras. BlackMoon was surely dealing with a different member of the Ruling Conclave. The rulers of the Society constantly vie among themselves for power and the Overmaster’s favor.” Merc drew a second cloak from beneath his own. “Put this over your shiny armor. We’ll sit in the shadow of that boulder over there and see who shows up.”
Several hours later, a black flying carpet skimmed overhead and settled to a landing near the bridge. The wizard controlling the rug was a stooped and emaciated old man cloaked in black. His staff was of sablewood and tipped with a grinning silver skull. He was accompanied by two young, strong men wearing black tunics emblazoned with the bone-white sigil of Death, the aptly named God of Death. The trio remained on the carpet, ready to fly away at the first hint of trouble. They didn’t notice the two of us crouched nearby, silent and unmoving.
“Necrophilus the Grave,” Merc whispered in my ear. “A master of necromancy, creator of the prying eyes, a high ranking member of the Ruling Conclave. The others are acolytes of the Forbidden Church of Undeath.”