Greatshadow (32 page)

“Others?” asked Tower.

“Explorers. Tomb looters. They have a camp about a half-mile down the mountain. I can smell them.”

Zetetic raised an eyebrow. “You can tell they’re looters by the way they smell?”

“In this case, yes,” said Menagerie. “I know those scents well. It’s Hookhand and his Machete Quartet. They always fence their stuff at the
Black Swan
.”

“Of all the people to survive the tidal wave,” I said, giving Infidel a knowing look. Hookhand and I had a rivalry that ran back twenty years. More than once I’d gone off chasing the rumor of some newly discovered ruin to find the bastard had beaten me to it.

“I don’t think the pygmies pose a serious threat,” said Lord Tower, rising up to survey the area. “The walls may be in ruins, but they’re still formidable barriers. To attack en masse, the pygmies would have to come through the gate. We’ll simply post a watch there, and frighten them away with a show of force if necessary. Aurora and Father Ver can start the night. No-Face and Menagerie will follow them. The War Doll and I will take the final shift to see us through until dawn.”

Aurora winked at Infidel, though I don’t think anyone else saw it. Infidel simply stared straight ahead, still playing the emotionless machine.

W
ITHOUT THE STEADY
winds of the north slope to shield us, the mosquitoes came on strong that evening. Father Ver was particularly afflicted by the buzzing bloodsuckers. He was in a foul mood as he waited at the gate, his scowl lines and bald pate covered with red welts.

Aurora had little to fear from the insects. They froze stiff the second they touched her pale skin, tumbling into an ever growing pile around her.

“I can soothe those if you’d like,” Aurora said as Father Ver scratched his face.

“I want no part of your pagan magic,” said Father Ver. “Under any other circumstances, I would have already banished an abomination such as yourself.”

Aurora leaned back against the stone pillar. “Is there something in your holy book that demands that you be nasty to people?”

“You don’t qualify as people,” said the Truthspeaker. “Ogres, along with pygmies, mermen, and the shadowfolk, are merely distorted reflections of true humanity, lies given substance by the false beliefs of fools. When the Omega Reader opens the One True Book, your kind will vanish from this world like a nightmare fading from a waking mind.”

“Whatever,” said Aurora. “You know, I hope I’m around when your book is finally opened. It would be priceless to watch your face fall as you discover everything you believe is wrong.”

Father Ver didn’t respond.

Aurora kept talking: “You Truthspeakers spend the majority of your life hidden in a remote temple, purposefully set apart from the real world, so that you can be brainwashed into a ‘truth’ that has nothing to do with reality.” Aurora looked up at the sky. There were very few stars shining through the tropical humidity. “I come from a land where truth is stark and tangible, a landscape white as paper for as far as the eye can see. You quickly come to grips with what is real, or you die. Spend a single week out on the tundra, old man, then come back and tell me if you still believe reality is found in some book.”

Father Ver slapped a mosquito on the back of his hand. “I find discussions with unreal beings tedious. Let us pass the guard shift without further attempts at conversation.”

Aurora said, “I’d be fine with that, except we’re going to be fighting for our lives together against Greatshadow. Among my people, it’s important to know the mind of the person you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with. If you and I must be allies, shouldn’t we make at least some small attempt to be friends?”

“My mind is no great mystery,” said Father Ver. “I’ve come here to make a stand for what is good; against an evil as strong as Greatshadow, I grudgingly agree to stand shoulder to shoulder with monsters. I don’t like you, ogre, and will never be your friend. But, in battle, know that I will surrender my life to save yours should victory demand it. You do not need my friendship. You have something far more valuable: my sacred word.”

Aurora nodded slightly, then returned to her star-gazing, letting the rest of their shift pass in silence. And though Father Ver never acknowledged it, let alone thanked her, the air around the gate was cold and dry, and frost-covered mosquitoes fell like snowflakes around them.

“M
UH HUHN HURS,
” moaned No-Face, rubbing his bandaged hand as he leaned against the stone gate and peered out into the darkness.

Menagerie sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands resting lightly on his knees. He said, “I know your hand hurts. Talking about it won’t make it feel better. Listen.”

No-Face tilted his head. The forest was cacophonous with life; frogs, bugs, and night-birds shouting with all their power to catch the attention of potential mates. It took a moment’s concentration to pick out a distant, dull,
doom, doom, doom.

“Guh?”

“War drums. They say the Death Angel has returned.”

No-Face pointed a finger at his own chest.

“Don’t flatter yourself. They mean Infidel. Apparently she did something to piss them off.”

No-Face chuckled, low and gravelly, then said, “Muhbuh shuh fuhd. Huh huh huh.”

“Yeah, right.”

They both fell silent, listening to the bass pulse beneath the thrumming ocean of sound.

Menagerie craned his neck, following the bouncing signals. He allowed himself a slight smile. “The Cracked Earth tribe reports a bad omen. The goat they tossed into the lava screamed three times before it died. Attacking tonight would bring certain disaster.”

“Grah,” said No-Face, his shoulders sagging.

“Don’t sound so disappointed. You’ll see plenty of action. We won’t have Reeker around for wide area control. I’m already out of blood for some of my big cats. I need you to fight smart.”

No-Face wrapped his chain around his damaged hand, then spun around and punched the stone beside him, sending out a spray of sparks. The sharp crack of the blow momentarily silenced the nearest wildlife, leaving only the throb of the drums, which suddenly quickened their pace. No-Face lowered his hand, his one eye gleaming with satisfaction at the dinner-plate-sized crater he’d made in the solid rock.

“Gut duh jub dum muh wah!”

“Fine then,” Menagerie said, shaking his head. “Fight the way you always fight.”

The bugs began to buzz again as the two men fell into silence. Soon the drums vanished once more beneath the sonic waves of life.

“Duhm,” said No-Face, rubbing his knuckles. “Muh Rukuh.”

“I know,” said Menagerie, staring into the darkness. “I miss him too.”

S
INCE WE’D LEFT
the Jawa Fruit tribe, Tower had barely made eye contact with Infidel. When I spied on him at night, his prayers had been especially heavy with the whole “wisdom to know lust from love” theme. With any luck, he’d decide to just forget Infidel and find some nice girl whose life wasn’t an affront to all he held holy.

The two of them walked up to relieve the Goons. Lord Tower was fully dressed in his armor; I couldn’t see his face. Infidel strolled behind him, biting her lower lip. Her expression could have been nervousness... or it could have been anticipation.

“You hear the war drums?” Menagerie asked as Tower reached the gates.

“No,” said Tower.

“The pygmies aren’t happy we’re here. But, the Cracked Earth tribe is refusing to take part in an attack tonight. Bad omens.”

“Excellent,” said Tower. “We won’t be here tomorrow night. I see no reason for unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Hukhuh,” said No-Face.

“He’s right,” said Menagerie. “They aren’t going to attack Hookhand either. With your permission, we’ll slip down to their camp and finish them off.”

Tower cocked his head. “Why would we want to do that?”

Menagerie looked genuinely startled by the question. “We’re going to be too busy fighting the dragon to secure any treasures we might find along the way. We don’t want Hookhand to slip in behind us and start looting before we even have time to make an inventory.”

“They don’t even know we’re here,” said Tower.

“Which makes this the perfect time to take them by surprise,” said Menagerie, grinding his fist into his palm.

“I’m not going to order innocent men be put to death simply because they had the misfortune of camping near us.”

“Innocent?” Menagerie stared at the knight in shock. “You don’t earn a name like Hookhand and the Machete Quartet by being good citizens. We need to—”

“I’ve heard your concerns,” Tower said. “I’ve made my decision. If Hookhand bothers us, we’ll deal with him. For now, get some rest.”

Menagerie opened his mouth to argue further, then caught himself. He said, tersely, “Yes sir,” then headed back to the sleeping area with No-Face close behind, rattling his chain.

Once they were several yards away, Tower pulled off his helmet. He produced the small leather-bound book from his hip compartment, opened it to a blank page, and tapped his helmet against it. There was a bubble of light, a sound like ripping paper, and the helmet was gone. The blank page now had a drawing of a helmet upon it.

“That’s damn convenient,” said Infidel, her eyes wide as she looked at the book. Her expression changed to a frown as she rubbed her jaw. “Man, it feels weird to talk after being quiet for so long.” She pursed her lips, licking them. “The words tickle my mouth.”

“I have something else to tickle your mouth,” said Tower, leaning forward, his eyes closed, his lips puckered.

He kissed only air. She stepped backward at the last second.

“Careful,” said Infidel, glancing back toward camp. “The Goons aren’t in bed yet. You don’t want them to see anything.”

“Let them see,” said Tower, stepping toward her, grabbing her by the arms. “Soon, I shall declare my love to the entire world!”

“Soon, maybe, but not now,” said Infidel. “We don’t want to get Father Ver all riled up.”

Tower’s grip loosened on her arms at the mention of the holy man. His eyes locked on hers in a look of fierce confidence. “Since last we spoke, I have searched my soul. You asked if I would obey Father Ver if he ordered that I arrest you. At the time, I was greatly troubled by the question. Now, I have no doubt. I would fight to the death to protect you, even against Father Ver. My love for you is greater than blind obedience to authority.”

“Ooooh,” said Infidel. “That kind of attitude will get you put on the naughty list. Believe me, I know.”

“Let it be so. I would suffer the torments of hell for a single night in your arms, my love,” he said, his voice low and serious.

Infidel pushed his hands off her arms and turned her back to him. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I mean, I’m flattered. Really, it’s a very nice thing to say. But, I hate to think I just lugged a half-ton of gear across a million miles of goat trails for nothing. We’ve got a dragon to hunt. After we kill it, we can start discussing, you know, romantic stuff. For now, we need to stay focused on the task at hand. Like... well, for instance, I was wondering if you had, I don’t know, any sort of special weapon to use against Greatshadow? I mean, your hammer didn’t even make a dent in that little fire lizard we fought.”

Tower smiled. “We would not undertake this quest if the proper weapon for the job hadn’t fallen into our hands. Have you heard of the Jagged Heart?”

“Nope. Never. Tell me about it,” said Infidel.

“The Jagged Heart was a weapon revered by the ice-ogres. It’s a harpoon tipped with a fragment of the shattered heart of Hush, the primal dragon of cold. Once, she was in love with Greatshadow, but she betrayed his trust in an affair with Glorious, the primal dragon of the sun. After Glorious went on to reject her, Greatshadow spurned her as well. Hush’s heart broke into a thousand shards, the largest of which was turned into a harpoon by the ice ogres.”

“Sound’s painful. Must not have been fatal, however. Hush is still a power up north.”

“As elemental creatures, primal dragons obey different physical rules. Hush endures, but her bitterness still chills much of the world.”

“And this Jagged Heart is pretty powerful, huh?”

“It’s cold is such that it extinguishes any heat or flame. Anything it touches shatters, be it steel or dragon hide.”

“Anything? How about your armor?”

“My armor could resist the cold. It’s composed of prayer and faith rather than base matter. As long as the monks maintain their vigilance, I’m immune from all harm.”

Infidel leaned close, placing a hand on his chest. “So... nothing can break through it? Nothing at all?” She ran her fingers along his breastplate. “Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. “It doesn’t feel like metal. It’s warm. And sort of... silky.” She breathed on it, then rubbed her finger. “I notice it doesn’t show fingerprints, either.”

“You may touch it as much as you desire,” said Tower, his voice purring. “It will always maintain its pristine condition.”

Infidel pulled her hand away. “So, uh, the Jagged Heart’s a harpoon? Those are pretty big. You obviously aren’t carrying it. I guess that book stores more than just your armor?”