by Peter David
“We go on foot from here,” I called to That Guy. Naturally he didn’t argue. Convenient soldier, he.
We dismounted and tied the horses’ reins off onto a natural outcropping of rock. Bicce seemed most anxious to keep going. Probably eager to rendezvous with her true master and see the intended trap snap upon us, I thought. My walking staff had been strapped to the horse’s side. I no longer had the limp that it had once compensated for, but along the grounds that we would be traversing, it might well be a help now even for a man with two strong legs. Plus it remained a formidable weapon in its own right. So I removed it from its holder and, gripping it firmly, set out.
And so we climbed.
And climbed.
Morning became afternoon as we made our slow way up. At one point Bicce let out a cry, and I thought, This is a signal! This is it! But then a great predator, a snarling dusky mountain cat, unleashed a roar of challenge and leaped toward us. Bicce shrunk back, for as fearsome as she was, she was dwarfed by the creature bounding toward us. That Guy, however, did not hesitate. He had his sword out and swinging while the beast was still in midair, and an instant later the creature’s body landed on the ground ten paces to my right, while his head rolled to a halt twenty paces to my left.
Bicce was whimpering in confusion. She was unable to right herself, for her hands were still bound. That Guy reached down, took her under the crook of her elbow, and drew her to her feet with what appeared to be surprising gentleness.
And to my utter astonishment, he spoke the first words I’d ever heard him say, addressed to a creature whom I once would have thought incapable of understanding them.
“You’re safe,” he said. His voice was astoundingly soft and gentle. It sounded more the voice of a poet or a singer of romantic ballads than a warrior. Perhaps that was the reason he preferred to keep his silence. Remain speechless and be seen as darkly threatening. Speak and risk contemptuous laughter. Silence was obviously preferable.
She looked at him wonderingly. That Guy’s face remained impassive as she stared at him with unmistakable gratitude in her eyes.
“Good” was all she said, but it seemed to me that she was feeling something more than simple gratitude … and perhaps was even concerned or afraid that she was doing so. Mordant, meantime, did not bother to offer thanks, but instead nestled atop the creature’s severed head and proceeded to pluck out his eyeballs for a gruesome little treat.
Higher and higher still we went. The path was difficult, and certainly not carved by anyone, but it was passable. If I’d still had a game leg, I would have been in all manner of difficulty, but such infirmities were a thing of the past. I started to become concerned, though, over my decision to leave the horses tied up behind. They would be helpless if some beast, such as the cat that had assaulted us, came upon them. We might indeed wind up walking back after all.
I also began to wonder what Beliquose had done with his horses. I could only come up with two possibilities. Either he’d found some sort of cave to hide them in, or else he had let them run wild. He could have done that in order to give the animals a better chance at survival, or perhaps intending to throw us off the scent by sending horse tracks off in another direction. Such an endeavor would not have worked with Bicce on his trail, of course. She was locked into following the man, not the beast upon which he rode.
Something else was occurring, though, that also vied for my attention.
The gem in my chest was beginning to burn.
It wasn’t anything I couldn’t live with, but it was constant and insistent as if the gem was demanding my attention. It was filling me with a sense of urgency that I couldn’t ignore. The gem … wanted something from me. I had no clue what that might be, but for the first time I was having the sensation that the gem was more than simply some sort of mystic talisman, granting incredible powers to the person with whom it was fused. I was beginning to think that the damned thing had a mind of its own.
And even as I considered that, and the gem burned more intensely in my chest, I realized that the notion of that was truly frightening. Some … some living thing, attaching itself to me? With its own desires and agenda which might be completely unknown? The concept threw everything that I had done into question. How much was my doing? How much was the gem’s? Everything that I had said and done made so much sense to me, but was that because it did make sense, or because the gem desired it to for its own purposes.
And as quickly as those notions came to my mind, they were discarded. It’s just a gem, that’s all. You are in charge. You are the Peacelord. You are the god on earth. Do not let yourself be distracted or deterred. You are Apropos of Wuin. You are supreme. All these thoughts and more went through my head, soothed my doubts and eased my worries.
Afternoon passed into evening. It was getting colder and colder, and even though the burning in my chest was steady, I still felt the chill in my bones. It did not frighten me, though, or put me ill at ease as it most certainly would have in the past. Instead it but fueled my anger. I was taking it rather personally that Beliquose was leading us on this chase instead of making himself available to be slaughtered, which would have been far more convenient for me.
We had no choice. Even trusting Bicce’s senses to see us through, it was getting far too dark to proceed. We had actually gotten to the lower reaches of Mount Aerie itself and were starting to climb it. In the darkness one misstep could lead to a very long fall. I wasn’t concerned for my personal safety, but I wasn’t ecstatic about the notion of having to begin the climb all over again. And if That Guy or even Bicce fell, the consequences would be far more lethal.
We made a rudimentary camp under an outcropping which would provide minimal shelter. I instructed That Guy to take the first watch while I endeavored to get some sleep. Sleep, surprisingly, came easily. Rest did not. Perhaps it was the steady burning sensation radiating from the gem in my chest, but bizarre dreams raced through my head as if they were upon mounted horses and dashing against each other to deliver as much confusion to me as quickly as possible. Images flashed before me that I could not comprehend. I saw …
I saw …
… a second gem next to the first one, floating in blackness before me, and it seemed as if they were focused upon me, and within the center of each of them were small flames that gave them the appearance of burning eyes turned toward me, and suddenly I was burning as well from the inside out, and dark shadows were upon me, pulling me down, down into darkness, an infinite fall, and I reached out, desperate to stop the plunge, and someone grabbed me by the wrist, halted me, and I looked up and it was the Lady Kate, but she was laughing at me, laughing and sneering, and her eyes were now the two blazing gems, and then Beliquose fell past me on one side, and Sharee went by on the other, and they were falling and falling except they were in each other’s arms and dancing as they fell in a lazy spiral, calling up to me, “We warned you, don’t say we didn’t warn you, tra la tra la,” and then the Lady Kate laughed once more and said, “It’s what she would have wanted!” and released me, and my arms waved about frantically as I fell and fell …
I snapped awake and looked around frantically, convinced that I was going to wake up falling. That somehow I had tumbled off some previously unseen cliff and was even now plummeting to the ground far below. But no, I was right where I’d drifted off. I looked over toward That Guy.
He was dead, slain by Bicce.
I thought.
Except … I was wrong. He was on the ground, yes, and she was near him, but her hands were still tied harmlessly behind her. That Guy’s chest was rising and falling steadily, and there was a gentle snoring coming from it. He had been leaning against a rock face, but apparently exhaustion had overtaken him, and he had slid down to his haunches, his head slumping over. And Bicce had curled up next to him and likewise gone to sleep. In fact, her breathing was in perfect synchronization with his. If one of them hadn’t been a hardened warrior and slaughterer, and the other a crazed she-bitch, it m
ight actually have looked rather charming.
I thought of waking That Guy and chiding him for falling asleep at his post. But then I reasoned, No harm done, everything’s fine, we’re safe, right before the gigantic flying form dropped down upon us with a screech that would have woken the damned, much less us.
“What the hell is that?!” I howled as the creature descended from on high, even as I yanked out my sword. I swung the blade and the creature, with a flap of its great wings, arced upward. Just for a moment I saw it backlit against the moon.
It looked like Mordant, except it was at least twenty feet from tip to tip of its wings, with a beak that looked as if it could bite any of us in half.
Oh, my God, Mordant’s turned into a monster I thought frantically, and then I was instantly disabused of that notion as I saw Mordant himself, same size as before, descend screeching toward the giant drabit. For a heartbeat I thought that this was going to be resolved simply, with Mordant instructing his big brother, or whatever it was, to be off on its way. I should have known better. The huge drabit let out an ear-rattling bellow and, with a sweep of one of its massive wings, knocked Mordant aside. Mordant flipped tail over head, ricocheted off the side of a rock wall, and tumbled out of sight.
It descended again, but That Guy was ready for it. He swung his sword this way and that, attempting to create a sort of wall with his blade. The creature, however, was incredibly nimble considering its size. It bounded from one side to the other, avoiding That Guy’s best attempts to cleave it into bits, and suddenly it flapped its wings with overwhelming ferocity. The result was a gust of wind that struck with the force of a battering ram, knocking That Guy flat onto his back. It was all the opening the beast required, and it descended upon Bicce in a heartbeat and snagged her in its talons.
Had Bicce’s arms been free, she would have been more than capable of giving a good accounting of herself. But pinned as they were, she had no chance. She screamed defiance at the huge drabit and kicked furiously but impotently as the creature arched upward.
The trailing end of the leash dangled in the air, moving up fast, and That Guy did not hesitate. Scrambling to his feet, he leaped upward and snagged it. Obviously his hope was to haul the beast back down to the ground. In this, he was unsuccessful. Instead, such was the strength in the beast’s wings that it was able to haul both the struggling Bicce and the frustrated That Guy into the air.
This was, of course, something of a setback for me. I wasn’t concerned so much with the life of Bicce—I hadn’t forgotten the damned creature tried to kill me, of course—and That Guy, well, he was capable enough, but I had no great emotional attachment to him. Nevertheless, I felt a certain possessory sense of frustration over the situation. They were mine. My lieutenant, my hairy creature. How dare this wretched beast make off with them as if it had any right to interfere with my affairs?
The creature was flying straight up. The rock face was treacherous, but scaleable. But I was going to need both hands. I yanked hard on either end of my walking staff, separating it into its two sections, and jammed each of the batons into either side of my belt. Then, taking a deep breath and trying not to lose sight of the beast, I started to climb.
In retrospect, it’s amazing the amount of confidence I felt as I did so. Not once did I consider the possibility that I might lose my grip and fall. My servants had been stolen, and I was going to go get them. It was not much more involved than that.
The drabit had disappeared into the mists above, rising toward the uppermost reaches of the peak. Now I was recalling, rather belatedly it seemed, the comments as to why the place was called Mount Aerie, and the sorts of creatures that one might encounter there. As for Mordant, I had absolutely no idea whether he was all right. Unfortunately I didn’t have the time to dwell on it too much.
Far above me I heard noises, and they were not pleasant ones. More of the drabit making deafening screeches, but even more disturbing … other drabit sounds that came across as smaller, thinner.
Instantly I realized what was going on overhead.
It was dinnertime. Dinnertime at the drabit household, and apparently hairy she-creature was on the menu. And That Guy had served himself up as an after dinner sweet.
I climbed faster, and the rock face gave way beneath my fingers. I started to slide, the rock tearing up my palms, and then I sought and found some toeholds and halted my abrupt descent. My palms healed instantly and with no less determination I started climbing once more. The screeches were louder and louder, and I couldn’t tell whether they were the huge drabits, the offspring, or Bicce’s, because they were all mingling together.
And then there was a high-pitched shriek, and I couldn’t identify whose it was or what had happened. That was when something thick and bloody fell past me, and I barely had time to make it out before it vanished from sight. But I was just able to see it in time: It was a huge chunk of wing. The drabit’s wing, if I wasn’t mistaken, with part of its bony arm attached. Obviously That Guy was not about to just roll over and die at the mercy of a winged beast.
Then there was more screeching, more howling, and I was able to make out thick chopping noises as one would hear at a butcher’s shop. More pieces of animal meat were falling past me, and I halted my climb by flattening against the wall. I had no choice; if I’d kept on going, there was a likelihood that a chunk of drabit would hit me sooner or later and knock me off my precarious perch.
It went on for several minutes, the hacking and screaming and more hacking and more screaming, and then slowly it began to taper off. The virtual rain of drabit parts began to slow, and then to stop. I paused there long seconds, and then I called up, “I’m coming up! It’s me! If you see a head protrude up in front of you, kindly do not attempt to lop it off as it would be disrespectful, plus I’m rather attached to it!”
I made it up the rest of the way in short order and discovered a plateau some sixty feet wide. A thin layer of hoarfrost covered the ground and the nest. And damn, it was quite a nest, at least ten feet across and three feet deep.
But the frost upon the nest was steaming, because the hot blackish blood of the nest’s former inhabitants was smeared all over the inside. The temperature of the blood was causing the frost to melt, and the former containers of the blood—namely the baby drabits—were strewn about in small pieces. Considering the amount of drabit meat that had been sent plummeting past me, I was somewhat amazed that there was anything of them left.
The grown drabit was there as well, also in sections.
And both That Guy and Bicce were, to my surprise, in one piece. That Guy was leaning against the edge of the nest, looking a bit weary but with a grim, pleased smile upon his face. Bicce was just shaking free of the cords that had bound her. Apparently when the drabit grabbed her, its talons had severely frayed the ropes, and now the hound was able to pull apart her restraints with minimal effort. But if I’d been expecting some sort of sudden attack on her part, I was much mistaken. Instead she was helping That Guy out of the nest with all the tenderness that he had offered her earlier when she had been shaken by the great cat. That Guy looked utterly exhausted. His armor was torn up, and there was blood all over him. I wasn’t sure how much of it was his and how much had belonged to the drabits, but it was certainly evident that he’d been in a hell of a fight and that it had taken a lot out of him. And it was further obvious that his endeavors had had a huge impact on Bicce.
My, don’t they look cozy, I thought with grim amusement as I hauled myself up onto the plateau some feet away from them.
Bicce was studying That Guy with such intensity that one would have thought she was about to devour him. But she made no hostile move toward him. Indeed, she seemed to be regarding him with reverence … or confusion … or regret … or possibly a mixture of all of them. She was standing several feet away from him, and to the right.
And that was when there was a twang in the ear that was so loud and so close, I immediately ducked even though I should have k
nown that the huge arrow it portended would have done me no harm.
Bicce moved as well … but not down. Instead she leaped with all the animal intuition and agility that she possessed.
The arrow was huge. It would have been useless as a long-range weapon because it was simply too heavy to achieve any distance. But at close range—which this was—it was incredibly deadly and largely unstoppable.
Bicce tried to stop it anyway. The arrow took her square in the chest and kept going …
… and went straight into That Guy.
I cried out his Lack-of-Name and, to my surprise, her name as well. I have no idea whether they even heard me. The force of the arrow had driven Bicce right up against That Guy. The fletching of the arrow was visibly protruding from her chest; the arrowhead was sticking out That Guy’s back. He coughed up blood and staggered back, back, and his arms were around Bicce’s waist in what could only be called a loving embrace. She clutched his hands and sobbed.
To this day I’ve no idea how the bond that formed between them did so. It was bizarre, it was perverse, it was unnatural … and it was love in the purest form that I’ve ever seen. Of all the things I do not understand about the many things I’ve witnessed, it is that tragic, abortive relationship that I most wish I could comprehend … and most regret that I never will.
They tumbled back off the plateau and vanished without a sound.
From the mist just ahead of me, I saw the archer, nocking another arrow. I recognized him instantly; he was the one who had scored hits upon Sharee and myself and nearly killed us in the doing. I yanked my dagger from its place in my boot and screamed “You son of a bitch!” and my arm snapped back and forward in a blur of motion. I hit the ground just as the arrow hissed over my head and then I heard another sort of hiss … the sound of air being expelled between gritted teeth. I looked up and saw my blade had penetrated the archer’s forehead with perfect precision. His eyes rolled up into his head and he was dead before he hit the ground.