by Glen Cook
Clever was our only exit. I had recognized that early on. But was no closer to a solution. Clever and the Bowman are not historical complements.
And clever don't work on the gods. Especially devil gods. They have more practical experience.
My stance baffled the Fish. They understood me no better than I did them. "Send us back and say your prayers," I told them.
They decided to play the devil's game. They wouldn't let us go. So now I was two hops and a skip from home: the fog place, Callidor, and their world.
The rage broke through. They even set Mica off, and he wanted to help. But they made Kid angriest of all. He carved up three before I backed off enough to ply my bow.
The dust settled. Seven mutilated corpses lay scattered. Six badly injured survivors were eager to send us back to Callidor before we butchered their whole population.
Maybe they would become more reasonable once they had a chance to reflect on consequences yet to befall them.
XIII
When the dizziness cleared I told Mica, "If we could kick that devil's ass that way, maybe we'd be headed home."
He glanced up. I looked, too. Somebody wasn't pleased. The fingers of light were fewer and weaker. "Thanks for all the help," I said. And, "You get what you pay for." Their attitude was no better than that of the Fish people.
Angry ringing filled the dead city. It fired my rage. "Tor, keep a sharp watch."
Teeth rattling, I dropped into the basement temple, passing through a swarm of shadows carrying bits of fuel. The idol's arms worked mechanically, dropping blow after blow on the anvil. Sparks flew. Shadows swarmed, trying to feed a fire that was cold enough to lie down in. Between devil and anvil a Fish form wavered as it slowly gained substance.
Half my men were down, arms around their heads. Only Toke seemed unaffected. "What's happening?" I screamed.
"He figured out what you were doing. He got mad."
"Let's make him stop."
"Tried that."
I had given orders.
A dozen arrows stuck out of the idol. There were chop marks on it where blades had broken against it. Junior had been chopped up bad but was not yet defunct. God-forged, he was tougher than his cousins in the warm world.
I loosed an arrow. It struck a faceted eye, knocked out a chunk. The hammering stopped. The form taking shape shrieked, faltered, faded. Junior dragged himself my way, in great pain.
"I'm ready to talk," I said.
"You will open the way?"
"Maybe. I need guarantees."
"You are in no position to bargain."
"Of course I am. You want something desperately. I can provide it. That gives me a long lever. Because I don't have to deliver."
"Evil feeds on its environment," Mica muttered. He was covered with Fish gore. "Eventually, it must devour it."
What the hell did that mean? He was getting too weird. Unless he meant the devil having sucked the warmth out of this world.
Frantic shadows kept dragging bits of fuel in for the fire. The idol was sucking the warmth up fast.
Junior asked, "What guarantees would you like?"
How do you fix a devil so he can't cheat? "Free Vengeful Dragon from any compulsion. Make it impossible to place another compulsion on her. Give us you, armed with the skills and knowledge needed to return us to our own world."
Puzzled, Junior faced his god.
Mica whispered, "What good does that do?"
"Can't we make him do what we want? With time to work on him?"
"Yes. But . . . ."
Junior faced me. "I now have the knowledge required to take you back. Your ship has been released. A new compulsion has been laid upon her. The Master himself will be unable to control her again."
Did I believe that? No. "Now we're getting somewhere."
Toke grumbled. He didn't like all the talking we did in the post-Colgrave era. Colgrave didn't talk, he acted. He stormed in and compelled fate to deliver.
"Is your Master tied to that idol?" Might as well go for it.
"He is bound there. Until we become strong enough to liberate him."
Excellent. I smiled evilly. That confirmed the accusations of the other Fish folk. I studied the big bugger. The notion was feeble but you can't win if you don't make a play.
"Here's the rest of the deal. I'll send men to my ship. They'll see how free she is. If she'll float all right and steer, we'll pull the idol out of here and take it aboard Dragon. Some of us will stay here and open the way. The rest will sail to our home world. If he's strong enough to bring us here, after putting one of you there, he can get back easy himself once you guys are ready to free him. After he brings the rest of us home, of course."
That sounded scatterbrained enough and left room enough for skullduggery on their part. It should tempt them. For my part, if I had to go through with it, most of the crew would be saved. Assuming the devil didn't skullduggle better than me.
Mica said, "Bowman, you can't sacrifice a whole world for our comfort. Besides . . . ." He jammed a thumb skyward.
"Let them take care of their own problems." I wasn't sure the business of faces in the clouds wasn't just wishful thinking. If not, I didn't mind extortion in that quarter, either.
It was taking shape. I told Junior, "It's your play. You and him on the ship. You both take Dragon home. I'll leave my best men behind. As hostages, so to speak."
Junior did not like it. His master liked it less. He was suspicious. Rightly so. I said, "That's take it our leave it. We don't have anything to lose."
Mica protested again. I told him, "Go topside. Collect a couple bags of mirror grit. And stay out of my hair." He was supporting my plan without knowing it.
Junior fussed. He wanted to argue. He wanted to debate. I ignored him. I sent Toke and a gang to ready Vengeful Dragon to receive the idol, to ready booms to load it, to build a cart to carry it from here to there, to erect a crane we could use to hoist it out of the basement. To dig a hole through which the latter could be accomplished. All that would take a lot of work. Leaving everybody too tired to wonder much.
The devil saw holes in my plan that pleased him. He okayed the thing.
XIV
"It won't work, you know," Mica said, having crept up behind me as I stared into the pit being dug. An unstepped mast and bits of rigging had become a crane. Below, the anvil rang endlessly, forging new Fishes. Three helped dig. They worked without tiring. There is that about the darkness, wherever you find it. It will be more efficient than the light.
"I said it won't work," Mica repeated. "I won't let you . . . ."
I laid my best Colgrave stare on him. He fell back, startled. I could have given him a hint. I didn't. What did not exist outside my brain could not betray me.
The ship was ready. Men not digging prepared a path over which a big crude cart could haul the idol. I beckoned Toke. "How're our stores?" We might be sailing the nether shore but our bodies still demanded some fuel.
"Better hope the men you leave can eat Fish food. Or rocks."
"Tight, eh?"
"The tightest." He glanced at the sky. To my surprise. I hadn't thought he would be sensitive to that. "What kind of dumb-ass gods make it so dead men have to eat?"
Somebody came to tell me, "The diggers are knocking dust off the overhead down there."
"Fine." I bellowed, "Put your backs into it, you scum!" I glanced up, trying to guess the time. I wanted to sail at dusk, with the ebb tide.
The daggers of light were back, more numerous. If that meant somebody topside had peeked into my head and approved, excellent. Just lend me a hand when the time comes. And don't tip the devil below.
The hammering rang on.
"Stop ignoring me," Mica said. "I won't let you do this."
"Hey! Toke!" I waved. "Come here!" Toke waved back. He climbed out of the pit. "I know you're bucking for a halo, Mica, but you ain't climbing over me to get it."
He pulled a knife. I shook my head sadly, noted that Junior
had caught the action.
Toke arrived. "Toke, Mica tells me he needs thrown into chains."
Toke asked no questions. He circled while I stood fast. The men paused, leaned on their tools. This was the only challenge I had faced since Colgrave told me to take over.
Mica spun toward Toke. I clipped him on the back of the head. Angry, he whirled toward me. Toke cracked him one. I kicked at his knife hand, missed. Toke had better luck. The knife flipped straight up. I caught it on the fly, tucked it into my belt, told Toke, "You can turn him loose after we get home."
Toke had no trouble subduing Mica now. Mica isn't big.
Shouts rose from the pit. The devil's hammering had been shaking the earth. Men scrambled for handholds as the roof of the basement collapsed. Dust boiled up.
The hammering finally stopped.
Afterward, the men went down and cleared rubble off the idol. The crane swung out. Lines dropped. Sailors made them fast. We tried to pull the devil free.
We lifted him four feet before the lines parted. He fell. He was not happy. Junior ran in circles screeching and holding the sides of his head. Likewise, the three Fish laborers.
"Damned rotten rope," I muttered. "We've got to refit. Get that rubble cleared!" I checked the sky. "And move it! We don't have forever."
Second try we got him up and, with sufficient cursing, loaded him onto the cart. That bastard was big, though not as heavy as he looked. He peered down at us with his jewel eyes, one badly chipped and seemingly partly blind. I thought I saw him shiver.
I kept a straight face. Junior was headed my way. "He wants his anvil taken," he said.
"What the hell for?"
He responded with a very human shrug.
I could sense no danger in that. It was just more work than I wanted to do. I had the crane swing back and hoist the anvil. It was heavier than the idol.
"Get that sonofabitch rolling!" I yelled. Most of the men took up lines attached to the cart. I faced the crane. A small crew began disassembling it. "Hurry it up!" I told Junior, "You and your buddies help pull the cart."
"Where are the men you will leave here?"
"Already chosen. As soon as we get the big guy loaded I'll send them back. Come on. Let's go."
It took all day to drag the cart to the shore. We could not have made it without the help of the Fish critters. They were strong and tireless. We loaded the idol by torchlight. Vengeful Dragon canted dangerously during the hoisting. Down into the hold the thing went. Seamen placed timbers meant to keep it from shifting once we got out on the waves. The anvil went in. The only space for it was right in front of the devil. He might be able to whack it if he took a notion.
I told Junior, "Ask him not to make any music. He'll pound a hole right through our bottom. Then down we'll all go."
He did as I asked, returned topside, stood with me watching the crew replace the decking, step the masts, restring the rigging. "Too slow," I bellowed occasionally. I kept a sharp eye on Junior. The cold was slowing him down.
It was close to midnight before Dragon was ready. We had missed the tide but there were hints of a suspiciously convenient offshore breeze. And the overcast was thinning, letting flickers of moonlight sneak through.
"Now?" Junior asked.
"Now. Toke. You got the shore party." I watched the twenty-six-man gang form up on the sand, under the slow eyes of the spare Fishes. I told Junior, "Go below now. Tor, show him where." I had gotten a minute with the boatswain. That was set. But I hadn't yet been able to tell Toke. I jumped over the side, into water hip deep and frigid. Toke was all set to push Dragon off the beach. I whispered, "Let the men rest. Don't let those Fish push you around. Come sundown tomorrow, kill them. Then wait for us."
He raised one eyebrow.
"Just do it."
XV
Lank Tor came topside as I turned ship. "All set?" I asked.
"Yeah." He grinned. "Resting in the lap of his lord." He stepped to the rail. "We're riding damned low in the water, Captain. Better not hit any weather."
I glanced upward. There was definitely a moon backlighting the thinning clouds. "You heard the man."
The breeze freshened on cue. We put on sail, pulled away from land. Tor went to check our cargo. I raised an eyebrow when he returned. He smiled.
I took the helm, put it over gently, turning north.
Tor isn't too sharp, usually, but he understood that. He shifted sail with little fuss. The breeze shifted with us.
I tossed a cheery wave skyward.
The wind carried force enough for us to make good headway without Dragon burying her bows in oncoming seas. Our freeboard was so low we risked foundering if we did not avoid shipping water.
Even so, I had the hatches open. Spare sails shaded the deck so it would receive no direct sunlight come morning. I sent lookouts up to watch for hazards. I expected to encounter some.
The sun presented no problem next morning. The overcast was denser than ever, the air and sea colder. The weather was perfect.
Tor told me, "The Fish is bitching about the cold. Him and his boss can't hardly move."
"Tell him I don't make the weather."
"Suppose he wants to come topside?"
"Stall him."
"And if I can't?"
"Then let him come. He probably can't tell north from south."
"And if he catches on?"
"Then it's chains time." Or worse.
Tor stalled Junior all day, but soon after nightfall the Speaker-of-Truth came lumbering topside, animated by anger. "You betrayed us!" he raged. "Your men slew . . . ."
"Aye," I muttered, and signaled Tor.
They chained Junior, gagged him, and tucked him away on the forecastle deck. Up there he could enjoy the maximum chill.
Below, the anvil yielded a tentative clang that echoed into the deep. For an instant Vengeful Dragon and the sea stood still. Then Dragon plunged forward again, shuddering.
The next clang did not come for several minutes. The third and fourth were more widely separated and weak. Dragon survived.
I had Mica brought topside. "Cold enough for you, runt?"
He would not speak to me.
"Not for me. That idol thing can still move its arms. But we're about to hear the last of him."
Mica eyed me, frowning.
"Yo!" a lookout called. "Iceberg! Two points off the port bow. Two miles out."
I held my course, studied the berg once it was close enough to make out. It was not big enough. We sailed on, Mica sullen beside me.
I found the right iceberg next morning. We were way north then, having run before a constant wind. The men were grumbling about the possibility of getting iced in. I put that horror out of mind. Eternity locked in the ice with that devil god? I refused to consider it. Cautious glances heavenward. I wondered.
I brought the ship alongside the berg, put a boat over, had the men shape the ice so we could lay alongside. Then it was undo rigging and unstep a mast, open the deck, hoist the big guy and swing him onto his frosty new home.
Several of his arms moved as he sat there. He tried to feed off the heat of our bodies. But our bodies had no heat. We had paid time's price already. Something else, the power of some divine curse, animated us now.
We put Dragon back into sailing shape and headed south. I watched the idol and his ice barge dwindle, amused. The old devil faced a different wind. Every iceberg in sight drifted with the breeze that drove us. Except his. His berg was headed north, toward colder climes.
I gave the sky a big grin. I wondered how the Hope of Callidor had managed to so offend the rest of the supernatural community. And guessed I'd never know. "Mica. You ready to forgive me?"
"I guess. What now?"
"We go pick up Toke and the boys. And hope them that live up top give us good winds south. We hope they're feeling generous, now we've done what they set us up to do. We have Junior take us home. He knows how to take us there."
"We didn't win anything, Bow
man. We barely broke even."
"I'm thinking that might've been the whole point. To test us. To see how far we'd backslide. And we didn't." Truthfully, I did not think that was the real story at all. I was sure we had been a weapon in a scheme to get rid of a threat that was a lot bigger than we could imagine.
"How about that anvil? That thing has got to be dangerous."
Also more so than we were capable of understanding, I suspected. "I figure on dumping it after Junior takes us home. Somewhere deep. I don't see how it could hurt the Fish people from there."
He seemed satisfied. He went off to play with his sack of glowing gravel.
I stared at the gray, cold sea, wishing there were some way that anvil could be destroyed.
Evil never seemed to go away. Not forever.
Vengeful D. was concrete proof.
XVI
Junior is cooperating. He is deflated, having seen his god defeated by mere whatever we might be. And he doesn't want to ride the demon anvil down when we chuck it over the side.
I am afraid. I am not sure Junior's devil did not trick us and the gods alike. And I have mixed feelings about returning to the place of fog, though it offers a blessed surcease from pain.
Surcease must be in order. My mind is working too well. I have been remembering those atrocities I committed that got me condemned here. There is no end to the pain inside the dictatorship of memory.
A glance at the sky. "Wherever we end up, make it warm."
Lightning rips out of the fat-bellied clouds. The bolt strikes the maintop. Blue ghost fires roam the sails and stays.
Junior gets busy.
A black, spinning cloud forms on the main deck and grows rapidly, then devours Vengeful Dragon whole.
Oblivion descends. Oblivion engulfs. Oblivion rules.
THE END
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An Empire Unacquainted With Defeat
Table of Contents
Introduction
Soldier of An Empire