Ecko Rising (40 page)

“Yours?”

“My dice!” The horsewoman was nearly as fast as he was – the dice were gone out of his hand. She brandished them at him. “Where in the name of the Gods...?”

“You will just leave this shit lying around.”

Redlock said, “What happened to the – ?”

“Gone.” Triq shrugged. Blood seeped from the narrow slice in her neck. “I took what I could from the panniers. The mare’ll go home – she’ll take the rest of them with her.” She slipped the dice into a pouch. “We’re stuck.”

“See? I knew horses were bad idea,” Ecko said.

One of Redlock’s muscled hands clamped around the front of Ecko’s cloak, lifted him almost clean off his feet. Ecko inhaled, cursed his empty flamethrower. His eyes flashed red and he bared his teeth.

“Gotta
problem
?”

Redlock snarled. “What. The rhez.
Are.
You?”

“Your unavoidable destiny. Now put me the
fuck
down before I break your face.”

For a moment, confrontation clamoured loud.

“You were in The Wanderer,” Triq said. She put hand on Redlock’s arm, a caution. “On the bar – I remember. You’re a friend of the Bard?”

“I’m his...” The words caught as he said them, but he said them anyway – spitting them at the sky, at Triqueta, at Redlock, at Eliza. “I’m his Eternal Champion or some such shit – I’m here to save your ass. Now move your fucking
hand.
”

Redlock let him go.

But Triqueta was staring at him, her jaw dropped, her dice forgotten.

“If the next words out of your mouth are about coming from another world...”

Ecko grinned. “Whaddaya know, he gave you my resumé.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The axeman snorted scorn.

Ecko gave a jaunty, what-the-hell shrug and stood back, untangled his cloak, flickering his optical scans.

“Toldja you wouldn’t believe me.”

Redlock said, ‘What are you, Kartian? Another alchemical monster?”

Ecko cackled. “The Bard’s nightmare vision? The Bogeyman? You tell me.”

“Enough!” And Tarvi was there in the moonlight, the Monument’s nacreous glow making her shimmer. She looked oddly ethereal – the taste of her still tingled on his lips. Viciously, Ecko crushed the feeling, binned it with an addict’s determination – she was a trained soldier for chrissakes, not some winsome heroine that needed a protector.

Fuck that noise. He wasn’t going to babysit her, or any of these guys. He was just...

Just...

What
was
he doing?

His fingers were fidgeting with Lugan’s lighter, clicking the lid open and shut, open and shut. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear Eliza laughing.

Ah, Ecko. You know just what you’re doing. Don’t you.

Yeah, he did. He was proving that the Bard was wrong. Proving that he could do this. Proving that he
was
a champion. He wanted to be,
needed
to be, it was just...

On the heels of his admission came a realisation, an understanding of something...

The fractal repeats itself! Of course it does! And that means this world
is
mine – all of it, it was made for me.

Why else would the goldie girl come back?

But that means...

For a moment, Ecko’s thoughts were poised on the edge of explosion, torn between impossible, opposing poles. He wanted, need to be a hero, a fighter, a champion. He needed the purpose, the validation. But at the same time, he likewise needed to be free, to achieve his success his own way, to escape with his mind intact.

But if the pattern repeated itself, then he had no freedom – every choice he made would just land him in the same place.

Was
that
the point? Was
that
the choice he had to make, the lesson he had to learn? His therapy? If he wanted to win, then he must toe the psychological line and be “normal”...?

His snarl was almost aloud:
I’m not playing your damned game!

“We should go,” Tarvi said. She was watching the horizon, all round them. “I don’t like this – we should move away from the corpses.”

“Wait,” Redlock said. “We’re not going anywhere until we get a name and –” he blinked “– explanation out of this character.”

I said “another world”. You want me to prove it?

The acerbic reaction never made it past his teeth.

“Down!” Tarvi’s soft cry had them all flat in the grass.

“Where?” Instantly businesslike, Redlock was fast, axes in hands. He looked ready to hook the rest of that henge thing and drag it into the dirt, pyrotechnics and all.

Beside him, Triq was arrow nocked and silent, watching the rear. Her voice was low.

“I can’t see –”

“I got ’em.” Ecko’s telescopics spun and locked. “Beasties. Over a klick, south-west. Whatever they are, they’re heading away. They’ve come out
behind
us, for chrissakes.”

“They? What the rhez is a ‘click’?”

“Easy, tiger – they’re
there.
” Ecko’s mottle-dark arm pointed, and there were creatures, a dull red glow of motion, heading fast away from the Monument.

Great blurs of wildflower hampered his ability to focus.
For chrissakes!
He batted at them – then a rift in the clouds bathed the prairie in yellow-white madness and his tele-focus hit: they were right up close and personal. Ember-glow eyes, grey and broken faces, pitted stone muscle limned in fire. They were misshapen and twisted, worn like old rock...

“Jeez, they’re on vacation from the local fuckin’ cemetery.”

“
Will
you be specific?” The only thing from the cemetery was Redlock’s sense of humour. Ecko scowled him to silence and they watched.

He counted ten of them, twenty, more. They lurched unevenly as they ran in ranks, extended file. The grass flashed into ash and smoke tails as they passed.

He didn’t need his heatseeker to tell him how hot they burned: steam flashed from their stone skin, the night air shimmered over them.

They were unaware of their audience, their surroundings, their attention was pointed straight forwards. One-track fucking program.

Triq said, without turning round, “South-west? They’re heading for Roviarath.” In her half crouch, she backed to where they’d gathered, heads low. Her voice was urgent. “I have to go back – Jade has to know.”

“They’re goin’ like greased shit off a chrome shovel.” Ecko borrowed one of Lugan’s favourite phrases. “Too big for a recon force. Without backup, too small to hit a city... Fuck me.”

“What?” Three voices spoke together.

Spinning his focus, he turned his black-slash grin on the rest of the little group, huddled in the grass shadow in fear of the Monument’s light.

“They’re leavin’ a trail of fuckin’ destruction a blind tourist could follow – with or without a guide-chip. Someone’s gettin’
way
too cocky.”

“Then they think they’ll win?” Triqueta’s urgency sounded like panic. “I
have
to go back!”

“They’re fast and light – they’re vanguard.” The axeman watched their reddish gleam across the tops of the grass. The rip in his shoulder was leaking darkness, he paid it no attention. “I’m guessing they should’ve come out under storm cover... If they’re leaving a trail, it’s not by accident – something else is coming.”

“We can find where it started, where they got out.” Tarvi was biting her lower lip, her resolve set though she’d never been so scared in her life. “I’m not giving this up, not now.”

Ecko’s hand twitched towards her. He sternly told it to fuck off.

“You’re not hearing me!” Triq’s tone was fierce, but she didn’t take her eyes off the rearguard. “The Fayre’s defenceless –”

“But Roviarath isn’t,” Redlock said. “We’ll never catch them on foot, they’re too fast and there are too many of them – it’s not like the city won’t see them coming.”

“The horses can’t have got that far!”

“Triq will you focus! Larred Jade’s a smart man, he’s got time. The Fayre’s population can shelter in the city – and Syke’ll see them too.” As the creatures loped away into the darkness, he stood up, gauging their speed. “I need you here.”

“Why?” Triq spared him a look that shredded the skin on his face. “What the rhez are you going to do?”

“If he’s gonna fuck your city,” Ecko commented, “he’ll blow it to charcoal spikes. We passed a township? It’s like a crater.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have that kind of power,” Tarvi told him. “Maybe he’s still massing. We
have
to go down – !”

“Stop bickering, the lot of you.” The axeman rounded on them, his face in shadow and his tousled hair lit to bright flame. “My guess? Whatever’s coming is big enough to wipe Roviarath clean off the map.” He slung his axes crosswise over his shoulders and grinned. “Let’s hit it before it moves, shall we?”

“You’re crazed,” Triqueta said softly.

But Ecko was cackling like a fiend. Apparently, he was gonna be a hero after all.

* * *

From the top of the lifeless bank, the Monument’s light twisting the colours of his back, Ecko tracked the devastation.

He was showing off, getting a kick out of his superior abilities. Yeah, he knew it – and he didn’t care.

So it’s fucking childish. You know what?

The grass was scorched, right down to its roots: the creatures’ feet had left scars in the soil.

Their wake of destruction stretched like a runway towards the horizon. He watched the receding beasties, tracking their speed.

Fuck
, they were fast.

He turned and caught sight of the centaur – both ribcages were ripped open and local critters were dining in style.

Scratch one McNasty.

He kept looking.

“There’s a scarp, ’bout a klick from here, must be the exit point.” He scrabbled down the bank. “Not guarded, but could be beasties under the drop. Now, who’s got sixty feet of rope?”

Redlock said, “Let’s go.”

They moved, slipping through the grass like rats through garbage.

“...From Roviarath.” Behind Ecko, Tarvi spoke softly. “When we found the blasted township... my tan...”

“I hear you.” Redlock’s tone was gentle. “I promise you this: the nightmares will pass. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you’ll be all right.”

“We all die – and we all lose people we love,” Triq said. “And the Count of Time heals all things. Live now, look forwards – life’s short.”

“I’m going to find whatever burned that town.” Glancing back, Ecko saw Tarvi’s profile, limned in the Monument’s light as she turned to look at the axeman. The look, the memory, sent a shock through his adrenals – a shock that was unexpected and completely unfamiliar.
What the fuck...?
“And I’m going to –”

“Boo!” He wasn’t even sure why he’d interrupted them.

“Shit!” Redlock’s axe missed his nose by a nanometre. “You damned...! Don’t do that again!”

Tarvi smothered a chuckle. Triq poked the axeman wickedly in the ribs.

Above them, a rift in the cloud bathed the grass in brilliant gold.

“You’re funny,” Redlock said. “But I’ve no idea who you are, have no reason to trust you – and advise against pulling shit like that again. Tarvi rides from Jade; she bears a pennon.” Tarvi smiled at him. “You – better have damned good reason for being out here.”

“I felt like a vacation.” His grin was merciless. “Trust me or don’t – that’s your fucking problem.” He blinked. “Let’s get the hell on with this.”

“We’re in this together now, Ecko, all of us.” Tarvi laid a hand on Redlock’s arm. Again, the unfamiliar adrenaline spiked. “I’ve heard of you, Faral ton Gattana – who hasn’t? We have to do this thing.”

Redlock said, “I work alone. Triq’s an old friend.”

“Then stick ten paces behind me and, if anyone asks, we’re goin’ the same way.” Ecko’s black eyes were expressionless. “I’ll save some bad guys for ya.”

“Will you two pack it in?” Triqueta was watching the way the beasties had gone. “My family are out there,” she said. “They’re under threat – and I’m here with you idiots. Syke’ll be in a lot deeper horseshit if we don’t sort this now.” She threw a glance over her shoulder. “Let’s find this sonofamare.”

“Well, whaddaya know,” Ecko said, his black grin broadening. “The adventure that started in the tavern ends with the fuckin’ underground maze. The big bad guy? He’ll be right in the basement – along with the flatscreens and the white goods.”

Triq said, “What the rhez are you talking about?”

“He does that,” Tarvi told her. “You’ll get used to it. Sometimes I think he’s seen all of this before.”

“No fucking shit.” Keeping his cackle to himself, Ecko slipped back to the scarp.

* * *

“Abandon Hope, All Ye...”

The short climb was an easy one; the moons had fought through all but the thinnest cloud and handholds and outcrops were plentiful. With his cloak tucked back, Ecko reached the base in moments and peered into the rift. The air was blood warm, it tasted like all kinds of wrong.

His heatseeker picked out the breadcrumbs – touches of fading warmth still clung to the rock, char marks like handprints. They showed the passage of the departing beasties – and the route into the maze.

Easier to follow than a ball of fucking string.

Nothing else moved.

Faintly disappointed at the lack of door-guard grunts, Ecko loosed his cloak and went into the cave mouth.

Here, goblins. Heeeeeere, goblins, goblins.

The floor was uneven, the narrow walls had protrusions that caught his elbows. There was a tall space over his head, as if the triangular crack in the cliff face simply stretched backwards into the stone, but the passageway itself was tight.

Comfortingly so.

At last, the arch of sky was gone from over his head, the endless wind in his ears had ceased. In the sudden quiet, they were cold and they sang with imagined sounds. Ecko found himself breathing relief, his shoulders falling. He hadn’t even been aware of the tension until he’d let it go.

Walls. Ceiling. Stone. It wasn’t quite the old underground south of the river, but
fuck
was that better.