City of Fire (City Trilogy (Mass Market)) (31 page)

“Well, don’t sue me if you fall off,” Bayang warned. She would have liked to have galloped but could only manage a slow walk on the undeveloped ground to the side of the road.

As they went along, they saw that the entire convoy had been taken prisoner, even the fire giants and elementals who were being bound with chains of an iridescent metal similar to the bridle of the
salamander back in the crater. While they were being taken prisoner, little men stood by with heavy odd-shaped balloons.

“What’re those?” Leech asked Eleu.

“They’re the organs from the cattle that get shipped here,” the little man explained. Now that he was on the dragon, he seemed to be enjoying himself so he was willing to chat. “Roland used some of us in the kitchen and made the mistake of having us doing the butchering. We’ve been saving these.”

“But what’s in them?” Leech asked.

“Water,” Eleu explained. “It hurts their skin.”

There were brown patches on the giants and elementals as if they had been burned—not by fire but by the water.

When they reached the rear of the convoy, they saw that the last truck had also been wrecked to prevent the other vehicles from retreating. Little men were dragging it off the road now.

When they were past the roadblock, Bayang stepped back onto the asphalt and began to gallop, but here the crust had cooled in uneven layers so that the pavement undulated up and down, jolting her passengers.

“Y-y-yikes,” Koko gurgled. “It’s l-l-like sitting on a runaway leather sofa.”

The road angled down to the harborside of the island where it followed the shoreline. The complex of barracks and warehouses looked deserted. And the wharves were empty of both people and ships.

Just a little past the piers, they saw tufts of hardy grass springing from cracks and even a few determined tree sprigs, all of them growing from seeds blown here by the wind. After the devastation of the crater, even these signs of life were welcome.

When they reached the border of the western half, though, the ground suddenly began to grow flatter where the violent land was being tamed. Areas of rough, bumpy stone lay like islands in
smooth black dirt, and in the rich soil grew patches of weeds, shrubs, and even saplings.

Several hundred yards on, they saw a broad, shallow pit surrounded by young palm trees. Flats filled with young flowers sat ready to be planted. Rocks had been piled into artificial hills and a track cut down the face as if for a waterfall that would pour into the pit, which, Eleu explained, was going to be a lagoon. “We were breaking up the rock here like we did in the first half of the island. And the wizards would use magic to make all the trees and plants grow faster.”

“So they chop down the real jungle to make a fake one,” Leech said with a shake of his head.

Scirye remembered Pele’s jungle. “But a safer one.”

Leech grunted the truth of that while Koko said, “Personally, I’ve never trusted any plant—even with blue cheese dressing.”

When Bayang saw the whips lying scattered about like brown snakes, she could guess what the incentive had been.

“What happened to the owners of those?” Scirye asked Eleu.

“They’re our captives, too,” Eleu said with satisfaction.

Farther along, they saw their first developed areas. Little bungalows encircled a glistening blue lagoon and transplanted flowers bloomed everywhere in a riot of color. Here the palm trees were some thirty feet high. Crews of Menehune surrounded them as they chopped industriously at the wooden trunks. They were smiling and chanting as if they were truly enjoying their work.

“Okay, the owl guys I understand, but what did those trees ever do to you?” Koko asked.

“We need to make rafts for us and our prisoners,” Eleu said.

They sped by luxury villas that were in different stages of completion, from simple wooden frames to a few finished homes with tiled roofs and pleasant, spacious verandas and shady palm trees. The villas were so large they would have made up ten of the cottages.

Finally, they reached the city itself. Pink buildings of two or three stories lined the spacious boulevards. The shops and apartments all stared with empty windows as they passed.

The streets had once been lined with palm trees some forty feet high, but they were being cut down by more small squat men with axes, while others were already trimming and then lashing fallen logs together.

Ahead of them lay a park with spacious lawns and fountains with borders of flowers and trees; past that was a beach of black sand and blue ocean. Bayang could only guess at the pain and suffering that it had cost the Menehune to create that lovely vision.

“Turn left,” Eleu instructed, and Bayang wheeled onto a broad avenue that led toward the tip of the western half. Directly across the harbor, the volcano seemed to watch them with fiery eyes.

The street itself ended in a circular park where a mansion stood. It was a tall, stately building with marble columns rising from a porch. Most of the windows had been shattered, and there were smudge marks on some of the sills. The double doors hung from the hinges in pieces, as if they had been battered down.

In front of it stood a giant bronze statue of Roland—which a team of Menehune were industriously sawing off its base. More teams, ready to pull it down, waited by ropes that had been hung about its neck. Scattered around were what Scirye thought were colored sacks until she realized they were humans and owl folk trussed up and gagged, also waiting for Pele’s justice. They wriggled on the pavement like colored worms. Broken guns lay like firewood all around.

The Menehune froze when gunfire sounded from within the mansion.

Instantly, the Menehune picked up the shovels and pickaxes that had been neatly stacked together. In the wink of an eye, they disappeared up the steps and into the mansion.

“You’re so quick. I can see how you beat the guards,” Bayang complimented Eleu.

Their guide sprang from her back, landing neatly on a captive. “We’re not as quick as a bullet, but we’re quicker than the eye of the person pulling the trigger. What you can’t track, you can’t shoot.”

As Eleu walked forward, he tugged a sledgehammer from his belt. The shaft had been cut down for him to handle. Though the iron head was huge and heavy, he hefted it as if it were only cardboard to point at the mansion. “Pele is in there.”

“Can you—?” Scirye began when a tommy gun poked its barrel out of an upper window, spraying bullets at the paving slabs. Sharp-edged chips showered from the spot where Eleu had been. Even as she began to duck, she saw the little man already up the steps and rushing through the door. The next moment there was a cry from inside.

Bayang sharpened her claws upon the slab. “Well,” Bayang said, “shall we help the goddess dispense her justice?”

“I think she’s doing just fine without us,” Koko said. “Maybe we should hang back. You know, be the bench for the team on the floor.”

“Off,” Leech said, shoving his friend over the side. “We’ve got an appointment to keep.”

Scirye

Bayang led the way up the granite steps and through the broken doors. The smell of gunsmoke was thick, but not so heavy that they couldn’t also smell the stink from the erupting volcano. Scirye had accompanied her mother to mansions on diplomatic functions before this so she had seen quality before. Roland had spared no expense when building his home.

The floor of the foyer featured intricate marquetry designs and the walls were paneled with mahogany polished to a deep, reddish brown. It must have been impressive before all the bullet holes pockmarked everything.

An antique grandfather clock lay on its side, chairs had been reduced to kindling, and several man-high vases had been shattered like eggs. About a dozen humans and owl folk lay tied up with a skirted Menehune standing guard over them with an axe.

Eleu must have passed the word that they were coming because the guard merely pointed his axe up a grand staircase. From above, they could hear shouts and thumps and the occasional gunshot.

Scirye had put on her gauntlet and was carrying Kles on her wrist. “Scout ahead,” she whispered, and launched the griffin into the air.

With gentle beats of his wings, he darted to the top of the stairs where he hovered, keeping an eye out for ambushes while Scirye and the others cautiously climbed the carpeted steps, their feet sinking into the thick red plush fabric. The gilt banister was broken in several places and they had to skirt around several holes. At the top had been a barricade of tables and chairs but it had all been smashed in the Menehunes’ anger.

They walked down the central hallway. The doors had been shattered in the rooms on either side, revealing broken beds, tables, statues, paintings, and cabinets. The little men’s fury was as powerful and destructive as a hurricane. The only decorations left were the plaster medallions on the otherwise smooth ceilings.

Koko’s eyes darted everywhere for something of value. Finally, he put his paws on his wide hips. “Geez,” he said in exasperation, “all this stuff is worthless now.”

“You try being whipped,” Leech snapped, “and then see how patient you’ll be.”

“No thanks,” Koko said, and then a sly expression crossed his face. “You know, maybe one of us should check out the kitchen.”

Leech knew his friend too well and grabbed Koko’s foreleg before he could leave. “You mean you want to check out the silverware.”

Koko shrugged. “Well, it’s not like Roland’s going to need it anymore.”

“We’re not here to loot,” Leech said, dragging his friend along.

“Says you,” Koko said sullenly.

Halfway down the hallway a doorway opened onto the grand ballroom. A massive chandelier had fallen so that hundreds of shards glittered like gems across the floor. About twenty guards were being tied up by Menehune. A dozen more of the little men were methodically smashing the giant mirrors that covered one wall.

“Don’t they know that’s bad luck?” Koko murmured.

“Bad luck for Roland, you mean,” Kles said. “If they have their way, they’ll probably turn this mansion into a hill of rubble.”

Koko shot a worried look below. “All the more reason to get to the kitchen. Ow! I’m coming, I’m coming,” he added as Leech pulled him along.

When they reached the rooms at the end of the hallway, they found Eleu supervising squads of Menehune. They had gone beyond vandalizing the contents and were zipping about and destroying the rooms, beginning with the mansion’s walls.

Eleu recognized them and swung his hammer to point, smashing a small table in the motion. “The Lady is in there,” he said, indicating a room across the way.

“Kles,” Scirye called, holding up her gauntlet, and her griffin, who had been scouting overhead, landed on her wrist. Then they crossed the hallway, pausing on the threshold. The room was huge, almost a quarter the size of the grand ballroom, with fabulous views of the ocean. The bed and furnishings were heavy, and the expensive antiques and molding were even more ornate than the other rooms. The only thing that marred the perfection of the room were the rows of black sprinklers that marched across the ceiling.

There were about a dozen Menehune inside but instead of zipping around at their usual frenetic pace, they were moving about with their faces pressed against the walls and floor like bloodhounds.

Pele had taken on her human form and was sitting on a huge bed
in the center, with her knees crossed and a foot swinging impatiently. “Ah, there you are. It took you long enough.” She grinned when she saw them and beckoned them inside. “Come in, come in.”

“There’s something odd about this room,” Bayang muttered as she decreased her size to fit through the doorway.

“What? You mean every bedroom doesn’t come equipped with a goddess?” Koko joked.

Scirye marched straight toward the goddess and asked the question that had been burning in her mind as hot as the lava of the crater. “Why did you desert us?”

Kles pinched her arm to remind her to mind her manners and Scirye added hurriedly, “Lady.”

Pele folded her hands on top of her knee. “You didn’t need my help. You got here on your own, right?”