Chainers Torment mgc-2

by Scott McGough

  "Start with the biggest one?" Kamahl asked. Chainer nodded, and the two of them charged forward dodging vines and screaming monkeys.

  "Okay if I kill a few of these screaming, hairy buggers?" Kamahl shouted. A wolf-monkey had pounced on him and was resisting his efforts to throw it off.

  "As many as you need to," Chainer said. He didn't even make a chain, he simply reached out and crushed the monkey's skull with his metal hand. The body shimmered and disappeared into Chainer's arm. "I've got the one I need." His eyes were black, and he touched his clenched fist to his forehead. "For Skellum."

  Another monkey threw itself at Kamahl. The barbarian chopped it in half with his broadsword without breaking stride. He turned and channeled a blast of fire through his blade at the wurm. The legless dragon screeched in pain, but the blast did little more than singe its skin. It held its ground however, unwilling to risk another blast from closer range.

  Chainer rolled away from the centaur's club and whipped a collar around its neck. The man-horse reared up and jerked the chain out of Chainer's hand, and the collar faded as soon as Chainer lost contact with it. Chainer sprinted past the centaur to engage the grendelkin as Kamahl was keeping the tiger and the wurm at bay with blasts of flame. The man-horse galloped after Chainer as fast as the underbrush would allow, with his club raised high overhead.

  Chainer had a bigger problem with a bigger club, however. The grendelkin would not move away from the edge of the copse, and he was waving his tree trunk like a scythe in front of him. Chainer couldn't get in under the tree to attack, and the centaur was bearing down on him from behind.

  Chainer jumped as high as he could over the grendelkin's next wild swing and latched himself onto the end of the tree with a collar chain. The grendelkin waved its club with Chainer trailing behind it like the tail of a kite. At the apex of the grendelkin's swing, Chainer sent a sharpened weight into the organic seam between two of the armored plates on the grendelkin's back. Chainer let go of the chain that linked him to the tree, and hauled himself onto the grendelkin.

  "Eat this," he snarled at the centaur, and unleashed the death bloom directly into the back of the grendelkin's skull. The monster choked in mid-roar and froze with its hand poised to crush Chainer like a stinging fly. Except for the monkeys, who were in constant motion and never stopped screaming, every sentient thing in the area stopped and stared at the dead grendelkin, waiting to see which way it would topple.

  Unfortunately for the centaur, Chainer's plan of letting the grendelkin fall forward worked perfectly. Killing the grendelkin removed Chainer and Kamahl's main adversary. Letting its body fall removed five more as the centaur, the tiger, and three of the wolf- monkeys were crushed by the three-ton carcass.

  Chainer rode the grendelkin through all obstacles as it crashed to the forest floor. He spiked a short chain into the top of the creature's spine, shuddered, and the giant corpse disappeared up into Chainer's body like liquid through a sucking straw. Instead of falling, Chainer floated, surrounded by a whirling cloud of dust and black light. He felt a bomb go off in his head, and he felt a body-wide sensation similar to when the justicar fried him. Chainer screamed.

  Kamahl had blinded the wurm with his broadsword and was preparing to behead the floundering thing when Chainer cried out. He hesitated, then brought his sword down and leaped away from the thrashing coils. As Chainer continued to float and scream, Kamahl felt something angry shift inside the copse of trees. A half-dozen wolf-monkeys still howled on the battlefield, and the trees themselves were starting to move, stretching their branches down and reaching for Chainer and Kamahl. From inside the cluster of trees, a bald human figure came forward. The chanting druid held a crude pine torch in one hand and a thorny bough of red berries in the other. He was painted with bright yellow markings, and a crown of ivy spread from his head down past his shoulders.

  As the first tree limb touched the nimbus around Chainer, his scream grew higher and more shrill, building to a crescendo of transcendent agony. Inside the cloud, Chainer turned his black eye sockets toward the encroaching branch. He crossed his arms over his chest, then snapped them down his sides and thrust his head back.

  A half-dozen chains leaped from all parts of his body, each lashing straight into the throat of a jabbering wolf-monkey. With his body rigid and his eyes unseeing, Chainer brought all of the monkeys together in front of him with a nauseous splat. He leveled his eyes at the horrid sight he had created and smiled.

  The six wolf-monkeys were mashed together like soft clay figurines. Limbs, tails, torsos, and heads were all bent and mashed together, merging into one giant gob of flesh and teeth with no dis-cernable top, bottom, inside, or out. The ones with functioning mouths wailed piteously. Chainer's smile grew savage and cruel under his hollow eyes. Then the entire mass of monkeys burst like a balloon and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  The druid's chant grew louder, and he hurled the thorns into the air. With no animal defenders left, the trees and vines redoubled their efforts to take hold of the intruders.

  "Kamahl," Chainer's echoing, musical voice called. "Do it!" Kamahl raised his axe and charged it. He held it by his ear until steam started rising from his hand, and then he cast it high overhead, dropping it into the middle of the copse. Two seconds later, the entire copse was engulfed in bright orange flames, and the druid vanished in a cloud of flame and soot. Debris rained down all around them, and Kamahl took shelter behind the dead wurm. Chainer was less fortunate. A jagged chunk of wood slammed into him, knocking him out of the air and onto the ground.

  He heard Skellum's last words again. Remember how I died.

  "Always, Master," Chainer whispered, tears falling from the black space where his eyes had been. "I will always remember." And then he fell unconscious to the forest floor.*****

  Chainer awoke under the mustard sky. He knew he was dreaming, he could see his body from the outside as he scanned the landscape. The hole in the sky had run almost dry, only releasing an occasional drop. The red sea broke on the shore, driven by storm winds and earthquake rumbles.

  Monsters milled around him in their hundreds, stretching out in all directions. They did not react to Chainer's presence but seemed to be in a state of torpor as they shuffled and bumped into one another.

  There was a new addition to the landscape in Chainer's mind. The horizon was now broken by a broad, squat mountain whose peak glowed like a star. Chainer shielded his eyes against the glare and tried to focus on the peak. He must be dreaming, for the mountain was shrinking down to meet him, bowing its peak like a servant bows its head.

  An indistinct figure sat on a throne at the mountain's peak, backlit by a sphere of harsh purple light. Dazzled by the mad perspective as much as the purple light, Chainer could not determine how far away the figure was, if it were humanoid, male or female. He could see the mountain, however, and he saw that it was not made of rock or mounded earth, but of currency. Huge piles of golden coins and silver markers were heaped on top of one another to create a single pyramid that stretched impossibly high into the sky. The figure leaned forward on its throne.

  "Kuberr?" Chainer whispered. Was this what Skellum had wanted him to see? His mentor had sworn frequent oaths to Kuberr over the years. Did he have a vision of the wealth god as part of the shikar ritual?

  Mazeura. The figure's voice was deep and sonorous, and it blasted Chainer's secret name through his head so violently that he felt blood trickling out his ears. It's a dream, he reminded himself. It's all a dream.

  The mountain peak swayed to and fro, allowing the regal figure to survey the landscape and population of Chainer's mind. Well done, dementist.

  The figure opened its arms wide, beckoning Chainer in. The mountain bowed further, and Chainer felt the ground beneath him rise up to carry him into those outstretched arms. He had pledged his life to the Cabal, and now he knew for whom he had pledged. There was power in the salt flats, power in Cabal City, power in the personage of the First. The expanding figure be
fore him, however, was beyond power. It was that vast and nameless energy the Cabal had been created to harness, to use according to its consumptive nature. If black mana was the fuel, then the regal figure welcoming Chainer was its source.

  Delirious with joy, Chainer closed his eyes and let himself be swallowed up by the dark figure that had expanded to fill the entire sky.

  *****

  When the flaming shrapnel slowed, Kamahl rose and surveyed the battlefield. The flames were still raging in the copse of trees. The wurm and one of the wolf-monkeys lay dead at his feet, victims of his sword. The crimson night tiger and the centaur were little more than colorful smears on the grass, and Chainer was unconscious between them. There was no sign of the grendelkin or the other wolf-monkeys. It seemed he and Chainer had won, but he didn't feel much like a victor.

  Kamahl sheathed his sword and crossed the field to his partner. The fight and the explosion had driven every other living thing within earshot as far away as they could get, and the forest was remarkably still. Chainer was breathing normally, but he was unrouseable. Kamahl half-carried, half-dragged him clear of the fire and tucked him safely behind a large, mossy boulder. Then he returned to the crushed corpse of the tiger.

  Regret was not a common emotion for Kamahl's tribe. They spent most of their time in combat or training for it, and they tended to live short, brutal lives with little time for reflection. As he looked down on the magnificent red and black hide of the tiger, he regretted that he hadn't seen the creature hunt. It would have been beautiful in motion, a study in grace and power.

  Kamahl turned, experiencing another unfamiliar rush of emotion. Kamahl had made two great friends on his first visit to Cabal City. One lay unconscious by a nearby boulder, and the other looked almost exactly like the dead centaur at his feet. Kamahl remembered Seaton clearly, his huge, apelike brow and his fierce protective streak for his home. He remembered how Seaton had become enraged when describing the poachers who raided his home, taking from the wild to stock the pits. Seaton's crusade was not Kamahl's quest, but he respected it, and he respected the centaur. Only now did Kamahl realize that he himself was one of those poachers.

  Kamahl knew the shikar was only a small portion of the problem, but he was now part of it. He let himself be blinded to it because he had never had to defend his home from invaders. There was nothing in the Pardic Mountains worth taking, so invaders were completely unheard of. All the tribes Kamahl knew of, including his own, spent the greater part of their adulthood roaming Otaria looking for ways to improve their skills and their fortunes. Kamahl had spent so much time fighting in other people's homes that he'd forgotten not everyone welcomes such company. This dead centaur could have been Seaton's father, or brother, he thought. It could have been Seaton.

  The fire in the copse of trees had died down, so Kamahl went in as far as he could. He found the druid's body crushed against a blackened tree. He had been a short, broad-shouldered male of about twenty. He had constructed a small stone altar in the center of the copse, which was half-disintegrated by the blast. Whatever spells or summonings he had been performing were long gone. He still held a fragment of pine wood in his charred fingers.

  Kamahl's emotions had retreated. Now he felt only the clarity of the choice in front of him and the determination to see his decision through.

  While Chainer slept, Kamahl built pyres for the druid, the centaur, and the tiger. He built another fire for the camp near Chainer's boulder, and then one-by- one he ignited them all with a snap of his fingers. Then he stuck his sword tip-first into the ground and waited for Chainer to wake up.

  CHAPTER 19

  Chainer and Kamahl hiked back toward the edge of the forest and the road to Cabal City. Chainer had slept until almost noon. The first thing he did when he awoke was to ask Kamahl to check his eyes. The barbarian reported that they appeared to be normal, and Chainer was both relieved and disappointed. The shikar felt like it was finished. He couldn't imagine anything more impressive than the vision he'd just had.

  Kamahl took the news that the hunt was over as if he had been expecting it. Chainer was prepared to explain why, but the barbarian didn't ask. There was something about his manner, however, something defiant that made Chainer think his partner was planning to go back to Cabal City no matter what Chainer said. He didn't press the issue, still euphoric over his vision of Kuberr.

  They saw virtually no wildlife at all as they reversed their course back through the forest. Chainer thought how vast the entire forest must be, and how many creatures it hid. He could probably go on shikar once a year, and he would still never see all of the Krosan before he died.

  Kamahl was silent throughout most of the day, and Chainer was still too lost in his own thoughts to draw his friend out. They hiked through dinner and stopped to make camp only when the sun was on the verge of setting. At this pace, with the hunt concluded ahead of schedule, they were likely to get back an entire day sooner than expected.

  The next morning saw them up at dawn and out of the forest by lunchtime. They stopped on the edge of the forest, ate the last of their provisions, and drank the last of their water according to the ritual. The only things they were allowed to bring back were in Chainer's head. With only a few hours of daylight left, they hiked into the deserted remains of what appeared to be a large Order camp. Kamahl scanned the vast plain that stretched out before him. "Chainer," he said carefully, "do you see an army? Where would a thousand Order troops go all at once?"

  "Crusat," Chainer's stomach went cold with hate. "They were massing for a huge raid on the Cabal City pits." He grabbed Kamahl's arm. "We've got to get back there."

  Kamahl was looking down the road at the Order's stable. "The Order always brings more steeds than it needs. Can you ride, Cabalist?" "I rode a hellhound once, I can damn sure handle whatever those toy soldiers sit on."

  Kamahl grunted. "Good. Wait here, I'll go get us some transport." He paused, then added, "Provided you don't want to whip us up a pair of three-headed horses that breathe fire, or anything."

  Chainer felt an unaccountable sting of insult. He smiled, however, and said, "Don't know if I'm up to a precise-creature casting right now. And in general, my monsters don't want to be ridden, and we don't want to ride them." "Order steeds it is, then."

  *****

  Kamahl was able to appropriate two strong chargers from the Order stables without interference. There were minimal guards on duty and plenty of animals to choose from. Two things were obvious to Kamahl. First, the Order had taken from the Krosan forest a hundred times what he and Chainer had. Second, wherever the troopers had gone, they had gone there on foot.

  Both Order horses were white, of course. Kamahl muttered an angry spell and then singed a hand print into his mount's flank. Chainer tied three of his snake rattles into the other horse's mane, then they rode east all night long without stopping. They were good horses, fast and strong. As the first rays of sunlight revealed the skull-image of Cabal City's huge arena and the spires of the First's manor, the chargers were sweaty and foaming and beginning to stumble, and both men brought their horses to a slow trot.

  "Do you see that, Chainer?" Kamahl asked. Chainer had excellent night vision, but he knew Kamahl's was even sharper.

  "All I see is the skyline. And… a crowd of people at the gates. Are those arrows?"

  Kamahl drew his sword. Most swords Chainer was familiar with came out of their scabbards with a crisp rasp of metal on metal. Kamahl's, however, came out with a long, protracted hiss that lingered in the air like a threat. The huge weapon looked somehow right at home in Kamahl's fist, though the sword was almost longer than its wielder.

  "The Order is attacking your city," Kamahl said. "I have a problem with that. Care to join me in solving this problem?"

  "Oh yes," Chainer's voice was cold. "Yes I certainly would." He shook the rattles in the mane before him. "Will they get us there?"

  "They'll last at least that long." Kamahl lifted his feet to dig his heels in
to his mount, but Chainer took him by the shoulder and called him by name.

  "What?" the barbarian growled. "The fight's started without us." "Thank you," Chainer said. He looked back toward the woods, at the battle unfolding in the distance, and finally at Kamahl's drawn sword. "Thank you for everything." Kamahl smiled for the first time in days. "Thank me after we clean house," he said, and spurred his charger forward, into the fray.

  *****

  Their horses carried them as far as the main gates. There, Chainer and Kamahl dismounted. The barbarian charged forward to join the melee at the gates, where the crusat raiders were most numerous. He saluted Chainer before rushing off. Chainer himself needed to get inside, to rejoin his fellow Cabalists and determine where he could do the most good. He followed the walls of the city around to the south, where the secret tunnels were.

  Cabal City was a city of over fifty thousand, but it seemed even more crowded with the entire population and over a thousand armed invaders on the streets. Chainer realized the battle at the front gate was mostly a distraction. The Order had attacked all three gates, not just the one to the east, and they were already running rampant through the city. The crusat troopers were not cutting down civilians in the street, but they were fairly trampling anything that stood between them and the Cabal strongholds at the center of the city.

  Chainer had never been to war before, but he soon got the hang of it. The trick, he realized, is to treat the entire situation like a huge pit match in which you and your team were vastly outnumbered. As long as you hit what you aimed at, there was no shortage of targets. As long as you kept moving, there was no way for you to get pinned down. Also, the Order troops were focused on storming the arena, and none of them stopped to fight Chainer unless he physically blocked their progress.