John Bowman's Cave

by Erron Adams

  The street outside was deserted when they left, but a hubbub over towards the Mirror Guard drew them running. Bowman had taken a small sword, and a knife, not much smaller than the sword, from the armoury. His arm had healed well and had even grown back most of its mass and strength. Nevertheless, dread leadened his stomach, and his body shook so badly he was thankful for their running gait, which imposed a jarring order on fear's anarchy.

  Coming to the little square before the Mirror Guard they stopped and fanned either side of Yalnita, weapons drawn. Across the square from them, a roughly formed phalanx of Tohubuho stood before the Mirror. A leader strutted in front, addressing the semi-circle of lightly armed Rory who'd gathered there ahead of Yalnita's Pack.

  He was an impressive figure, in his black uniform, calf-length boots and peaked cap, and his arrogant manner conveyed his own appreciation of the fact.

  “All we want is the Outlander. Hand him over, and there's no need for trouble,” he said. The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.

  Something familiar in that voice, Bowman thought as he came to the end of the line the Pack made and stood by Oyen. Every inch of Caylen’s brother bristled with murderous intent. He glared across the square and put a name to the figure of the pistol-wielding cop from Dyall's Ford.

  “Keemon!” he said through set teeth.

  The shock thudded to the bottom of Bowman’s stomach like an anvil.

  Keemon. The cop with killing eyes who'd arrested him in his old world. The cop who'd meant to kill him, the cop Bowman thought had been killed, sucked into the vortex between that world and this. How could I have been so stupid? Bowman thought. So self-obsessed? To think that only I could make the journey and survive, even after Argilan and others had said I'd been preceded.

  Yalnita's tone restored the Rory line. “Easy, Oyen.” She held the point of her sword at Keemon's face. When she next spoke, she raised her voice to carry over the square. “This is a simple matter, with a simple message: you can't have him. He is with us, a member of my Pack. There the matter ends. As to you and the filth you trail, by your entry to the land of the Rory your life is forfeit. If it was in my power, and you begged it, I still would not let you leave here alive. You and all who travel with you are condemned by your aggression.”

  Then she turned to the Rory gathered closer to the Tohubuho. “Why do you wait?” she said. Like a wall frieze come to life the field of combatants lurched to battle.

  Three of the Tohubuho behind Keemon carried crossbows. They ran to one side of the square for a clear shot. Bowman watched them take up position, and felt the powerlessness of his blade weapons keenly. His knuckles whitened around the impotent handles. The crossbowers aimed. Bowman held his breath, and as he did a volley of Rory fire hissed overhead. Looking behind and up, he saw several Rory archers spread across a flat roof. Regrais stood slightly to one side of them and barked an order. The warriors nocked their next shaft to the string.

  Looking back, Bowman saw the crossbowers squirming and rolling over their discarded weapons, their own knuckles now whitening around the gigantic, barbed stings they could not extract.

  The other Tohubuho, recognizing the danger from the roof-mounted archers, closed with the Rory, flinging shield and sword about in front of them.

  Regrais grunted appreciation of the tactic. The Tohubuho were now too close to his Rory brothers for him to chance more archery. He motioned to his companions, and they lay aside their bows and leapt to the ground. As soon as their bodies came up from the shock-absorbing hunch, they drew their swords and surged forward.

  Now there were three waves of Rory against the invaders, and it seemed the battle would be soon over. Yalnita's Pack held a little behind the first row of defenders, allowing them room for the task. Only Caylen broke ranks and advanced. It seemed to Bowman that rage had once more aged her. She stood taller than he’d thought she could, and her body had broadened at the shoulders. She flung her eager sword around as if she was swatting flies, and wherever the welter connected – with flesh or shield - it forced the intruder back.

  As each Tohubuho fell, those remaining retreated a few steps, until they stood a scant ten feet out from the Mirror Guard. Not a single Rory had been badly marked, as far as Bowman could see, and as Regrais' Pack drew level with Yalnita's, the Tohubuho ranks began to register panic.

  “Keemon, we can't do this, let's go!” one said.

  But the cop emerged from the centre of the breaking rabble and replied calmly, “Not yet.” He levelled his service pistol at the nearest Rory and fired.

  The barrel was so close to the man's head, it muffled the sound. Only Bowman realized what was happening when he saw the Rory fall with half his skull gone at the back. With clinical precision, Keemon moved along the line of Rory and executed them, the only impediment to the process being his need to step around duelling pairs and stand back from the slash of wayward swords.

  Bowman swore and turned to Oyen. “Oyen, can't you see what's happening!” But all the Rory - ignorant of firearms - floundered, flummoxed by this sudden, inexplicable reverse of fortune.

  In a panic, Bowman whirled around, looking for a way to halt the slaughter. Keemon had now stopped to reload, but the damage he'd done had reinvigorated his men, and the Rory were falling back under their onslaught. The clash of blade on blade gave way to that of blade on shield as the Rorys' desperate retreat tottered towards a rout.

  Keemon had moved into position for more shooting with his replenished weapon; a chill swept Bowman. He grabbed Oyen's shoulders and swung him around. “It's Keemon! He's the one doing it. We've got to stop him, for Christ's sake!”

  Oyen focused on Bowman as the words sank through. A light came back into his eyes and he snapped from the spell. He glared over at the cop. A low rumbling growl issued from him as he strode towards the battle line.

  Bowman's eyes followed him halfway there, but they stopped on the battle scene's far flank, where the now-still crossbowers lay amongst their discarded weapons.

  Instinct kicked in and he ran through the rapidly narrowing gap between the embattled Rory on one side and the waiting Packs on the other.

  He swept up the first crossbow, flinging it in disgust on finding it discharged. The second, however, still carried its bolt, and had been primed. Scooping it up with a mad delight, Bowman spun to search out Keemon.

  Oyen had meanwhile paused the Tohubuho's progress. The mere appearance of him in the front line, accompanied by Lowery's even greater frame, had given the invaders pause. But it was when he'd thrown first his sword, followed by the two knives he'd carried from the arsenal, at Keemon, that their onslaught really stalled.

  As the flying blades sought him, Keemon ducked behind companions. One of these caught the first of the thrown knives in his throat and staggered back, taking a cursing Keemon with him.

  Once again the battle swayed, the reinforced Rory sidelining shields to hack into Tohubuho. As the hard-pressed infiltrators retreated, some stumbled on their fallen comrades, further adding to their disarray.

  By the time Keemon disentangled himself from the dying Tohubuho's thrashing limbs and stood ready to fire again, the wall of battle had pushed him and his men to within a few feet of the Mirror Guard. Cursing, Keemon extended his arm and placed the black bar of the barrel's forward sight on Oyen's temple.

  He went to squeeze the trigger shut on Oyen's life, but had to ease off time and again as other heads moved in and out of the picture. When the target finally cleared, a voice, strangely familiar, stopped him. “Keemon! Keemon, you bastard!” it said, and he lowered his arm and turned towards the far end of the fighting where the voice originated. A man stood there, clad in Rory garb, with a face the cop instantly recognized.

  “You?! Oh, this is too good! You're coming with me, Convict!” he said, naming the one his mercenary force had come to claim.

  Bowman's muttered, “Die, you bastard!” didn't carry to the target’s ears, but Keemon saw the crossbow
bolt balloon as it fed on air between them, and the only response time allowed him was to block the assault with his gun hand. The bolt shattered on impact beside the cylinders, one of the splinters shearing off to bury itself in the cop’s hand, between thumb and forefinger. Keemon’s scream punctuated the steady commotion; he dropped the gun and staggered back against the Mirror Guard. As his clothing contacted the polished rock it bulged and claimed his form, sweeping him into the mountain's interior.

  Bowman swore and searched frantically for more bolts, but found none. He looked over to where scarcely half a dozen Tohubuho were left standing. They must know they’re dead men by now, he thought. No mercy would be shown them, for in breaking through the Mirror’s barrier they'd done what no other enemy of the Rory had. The infuriated Grealdians would never let them leave. Sure enough, even as he watched, those who turned their backs to follow Keemon through the Mirror were cut down. In minutes they all lay beneath the standing Rory.

  Bowman stood looking at the bodies. Some were still jerking about. The violence sickened him, and the aftershock of battle lay hold of his stomach. He was hunched over, ready to vomit, as Caylen came up. She crouched beside him. “You alright?” She lifted his shirt and looked for wounds, letting it fall back with a satisfied grunt when she found none. “Were you struck?”

  “No, no, I'm alright.”

  “Come, it’s finished,” she said. They walked over to the others.

  ***

  In order to forestall further attacks, the Council of Elders reconvened at the battle site itself. They took little time to sum the facts before them.

  For the first time since the fortress had been built its legendary defences had been breached. The enemy had discovered some magic that dissolved that of the Mirror Guard; some hitherto unknown weapon had subverted the Mirror's vigilance and welcomed an enemy as friend. Since Keemon's stated objective had been to relieve them of the burden of Bowman, blame had fallen quickly on him. Elsis was first to point the finger, and the congregation fell in fast behind her. Together they presented as that insurmountable obstacle to logic: a muttering, angry crowd with a leader to conjure faces for its hates and fears.

  “He is in league with his fellow Outlander. Keemon could only have entered Grealding by being attached to the will of one the Mirror had already welcomed.”

  “You speak nonsense, Elsis,” Yalnita said. “The man has been with my Pack since we left Animarl. He has never been out of sight or hearing of at least one of us. How could he arrange things, since he hardly knew where we were headed one day to the next, and never had a chance to speak to Keemon before today?”

  “I didn't say he could, Yalnita. But they are both Outlanders, and we all know the story of these people. At first they were few, and were a novelty to us. Then we began to see the sickness in them, as shown by their actions. This Keemon is further proof of their disease, and though you seem to have some regard for John Bowman now, in time his true face will show. While you wait for such a shock, the Outlanders' numbers grow daily. The woods reek of them. Fortunately, wolves and boars claim the sickly creatures soon enough. But along the Dragonspine, with only Migrils and Wood Spirits to contain them, they multiply like insects.”

  “I know all this, Elsis, but John Bowman is important. As an Outlander, he knows the weaponry of the outer world. You saw today what it can do: a thing that one hand can control, smaller than a crossbow, yet more powerful than a whole Pack. We know Outlanders have such arms; we know the Kasina are trying to get them. As whole Outlanders, either Caylen or John Bowman may be able to help us counter this threat, by travelling back to their old world to procure such things for us.”

  You cagey witch! thought Bowman. That explains your sponsorship of me all this time. And why you wanted Caylen back.

  Yalnita continued. “The Kasina prophecy tells of an adult Outlander who can do this. Caylen - now she is of age - or John Bowman, may be our one chance, but only if they are with us.”

  “With us! Him?” Elsis turned to face the crowd. “The agent by which Tohubuho scum invade our haven, and kill us in our streets! He is with us? May the Gods prevent his turning against us, then!”

  Other voices joined in, but Bowman only half listened. He'd seen too much bloodshed that day, in his name, to entirely rebut Elsis' arguments. So, when he heard Roop say, “but, John Bowman cannot even know this Keemon!” he spoke up.

  “Hear me!” he said, and in the growing quiet he continued, “I do know Keemon.” A gasp swept through the crowd; the Pack looked stunned. Bowman continued.

  “We were enemies, back in my old world. I thought he was dead - in fact, I thought I'd caused his death - but now I see I was mistaken.”

  The confession shocked even Elsis into silence.

  “I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused. I can never undo that. But I swear I’ll track this Keemon down and kill him for what he did here. Or else die trying. It won’t undo the damage done, but I vow to make this happen!”

  He turned to leave, but a voice said, “Take the girl with you. Rid us of two miseries in one mournful day!” Caylen drew alongside Bowman. She grabbed his hand and made for the Mirror, parting the sea of enmity with one hand as she dragged him in her purposeful wake with the other.

  It was Yalnita’s turn to speak. “Caylen, wait!” The Huntress turned to address the congregation. “I’m leaving with them. To my Pack I say this: If they would join us in our journey, I am thankful for their fellowship, but I place no hold on them.”

  Oyen strode towards his sister while Yalnita was still speaking. Then Yalnita joined the banished Outlanders and Oyen. The rest of her grim-faced Pack swept to her side. By the time Regrais joined the defectors, the murmurs of disquiet had grown to a low roar.

  Some of the Elders tried to separate the Rory from the Outlanders, but their entreaties fell dead around the determined band. A dense, sickly gloom pervaded the square; bad feeling had poisoned its very air. In that forbidding atmosphere, some of the more courageous Grealdians came forward, risking censure, to make farewells. Then the exiles stepped back and were gone, the Mirror swallowing them one by one like pebbles dropped into a black pool.

  ***

  Chapter 15

  The Dragonspine

  Keemon had to die; that was the consensus of the Pack. It was not solely a matter of simple revenge. The cop’s surprise attack had injured their pride, and their murdered Rory brethren called from fresh graves for justice. Besides, as a whole Outlander, allied to Kasina Nabir, Keemon would always be a threat. The man might be able to return to his old world and bring back more of the terrible weapons he’d demonstrated at Grealding. Then where would the Rory be?

  There was also the fact that Keemon would only hunt Bowman down anyway, given what he’d said before the Mirror Guard. The only option, they decided, was to find Keemon first, and kill him.

  Lowery’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Bowman. “But why does Keemon want this Outlander?”

  “For the same reason he wanted me, I suppose,” Caylen said. “Him and the rest of the Kasina. I don’t believe Keemon can go back on his own. It doesn’t work for him; he’s stuck here, for some reason. He needs another healthy Outlander to help him.”

  “But why? Why would he throw in with the Kasina?” Bowman asked.

  Caylen fixed him with a look. “You tell me, John. Tell me why he’s even here.”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “Because what Elsis said was right. You are joined to him. There’s no other way he could have passed the Mirror.”

  Bowman scowled. “Bullshit!” It was a puerile response, and he knew it. He turned away from her. His embarrassment grew as the moment stretched, and he was glad when Regrais spoke.

  “If what you say is true, it’s all the more reason to track this Keemon and kill him, Caylen.”

  She shrugged. “Of course, I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

  Bowman looked over at her. He could tell she wanted more from him, but he didn�
�t know what it was. He didn’t understand the jibe about being joined to Keemon, and it made him uneasy. In the current company, Keemon was no man to be in any way associated with. At any rate, Bowman felt he hated the cop as much as any of the Rory. What was Caylen’s point? How could he rebut the insinuation? He turned away again.

  For a few moments more there was silence. Then Yalnita spoke.

  “Alright, he dies, by my word and, hopefully, by my own hand. Let’s not start bickering. Let’s get on his trail. He could have gone to Kasina Nabir, to report his failure. That’s doubtful, of course. More likely he’s skulking close by, waiting to pounce. That won’t be easy for him if we keep our guard; he’s lost all the men he brought into Grealding. Or maybe he had more in reserve this side of the Mirror. Who knows? But we’re harder to hit if we keep moving. We can join the Falling Path where it goes under the Dragonspine, if we haven’t caught up with Keemon by then. That’ll take us quickly into Animarl. I always feel safe there, and it’s a good base to campaign from.”

  ***

  They'd been on the path to Animarl an hour when Rain Dog sidled alongside Bowman. There was a grimace around his mouth before he spoke, as if the words hammered at his teeth to leave, and he held them tight inside a band of pride. Finally, he forced himself to face the other man as they walked.

  “You did well back there, Outlander. In Grealding. You acted. You did well.”

  “You forget, Rain Dog, I'm the reason we got kicked out of Grealding. There’s nothing to celebrate.”

  “Bah! Now you’re talking like that fool Outlander I first knew. When you acted, you were with us. Those who act, don’t need to explain themselves. You fought alongside us, and now I see how you’re bound to this Pack. Don't misunderstand, but you are one of us.”

  “So you trust me now?”

  Rain Dog smiled. “Never! You're an Outlander. But one who shows promise, nonetheless.”

  “So what happens now, Rain Dog?”

  “I'm no sage; don’t ask me. All I know is what the Pack thinks: that we hunt down this Keemon and kill him. And for our trek we need fresh meat, which brings me to the point. Tomorrow I hunt mountain goat. You’ll come. It’s a new thing for you to learn.”