Kickass Anthology (16 page)

Email:
[email protected]

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/Jade.Bloodandfires

Google+:
https://plus.google.com/u/0/+JadeCrystal/

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/BloodandFires

Writing Blog:
http://boundbybloodblog.com/

Editing Blog:
http://editsbyjade.wordpress.com/

ILLUSTRATOR

Eleanore Pavelle
is a middle school student of many talents. When her Mom asked her if she could, perhaps, draw a picture of running shoes for this story’s art, she happily obliged. Even though Eleanore loves graphic arts, her art of choice is singing.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my beta readers, Réalta and Carla, who helped me make this story shine. And stopped my abuse of innocent conjunctions. Special thanks also to Tony for his suggestion about what being kickass or an underdog could mean: "A good guy that fails often." Fin came to me out of those words.

And loads and loads of gratitude to LC Chase, an accomplished author of very hot cowboys who took the time to answer all of my questions and check my accuracy. Without her, Fin wouldn’t have ever had the chance to run his race.

In Jay’s words, you guys rock.

* * * * *

among giants

                  
 
Tali Spencer

AMONG GIANTS

A Vorgell and Madd short story

Tali Spencer

A CLOUD of dust meant many things on the road that led from many-towered Gurgh through the Bone Barrens, where only stones rose from the desiccated earth. Few traveled the hellish road, which was why the dust drew the attention of the broad tall man wearing skins and several weapon belts and his much smaller companion, whose once fine clothes had seen better days. They watched as the cloud of dust revealed a horse and rider.

“Look at that,” said Vorgell. The basilisk riding in the hood of his cloak raised her crested head and peered at the road.

So did the man beside him, who stood only as high as Vorgell’s chest. Madd’s slight build was often mistaken for that of a youth and easy prey, an impression quickly corrected when Madd whipped out a blade or worked some bit of witchkin magic. The young man flashed a grin. “I think someone’s in a hurry to leave Gurgh.”

“I can only imagine why.”

There were plenty of reasons a man might use great haste to leave Gurgh. If it wasn’t to escape the unavoidable smells and cacophony of a populous city, it might be because the ruling nobles were corrupt and liked to fill the prisons with their victims, or even because the punishment for offending a wizard was to be hunted by fiends. Usually, though, it was because someone was being hounded by creditors. That was the reason Vorgell and Madd had left the city several months ago to pay a visit to Vorgell’s homeland of Scur. They were returning because Scur was an even worse place than Gurgh.

“Gurgh’s not so bad, you know.” The expression on Madd’s face turned downright wistful. “It’s certainly better than Scur. I can’t believe you wanted to go back to that place. All the men are crazy and the people guzzle fermented milk from shaggy she-oxen. Not to mention it snows half the year. Petal would have frozen to death if I hadn’t stuffed her inside a freshly killed goat.”

Petal chittered beside his ear. Vorgell sighed.

He took another bite of hard stale bread he’d lined with a few shreds of lizard meat. While he chewed, he reflected on how deeply life on the road had cut into his and Madd’s usually frequent bouts of cock-sucking and sex play. Forget Gurgh and Scur, he was feeling… randy. He needed a good romp and Madd, well, a more bewitching man had never been born. Watching Madd move and complain in his usual animated way awakened in Vorgell such yearnings as a thousand whores could not quench. He couldn’t help his excitable state: he’d used a unicorn horn as a dildo some time ago and as a result he thought about sex almost constantly. Unfortunately, there were no brothels or any other stopping places in the Bone Barrens and, even had there been, they would have cost coin. At the moment, he and Madd had none. They’d spent the last on their meager provisions.

Gurgh, for once, was looking good. Perhaps he could persuade Madd to give him a quick suck here, before venturing on. His witch friend often replenished his magic using Vorgell’s unicorn enhanced semen. He had been about to suggest doing just that before seeing the rider.

He continued to watch the horse and rider approach. The city had not yet come into view, which meant the man had ridden a fair distance. He lifted a seeing crystal to his eye. Peering through it brought his quarry into better focus. He blinked and looked again.

“It’s Grobba!”

“What?” Madd made a grab for the crystal. Grobba was one of Gurgh’s many thieves. That being their occupation as well, they knew him on sight. Madd held the crystal to his eye. “You’re right. It
is
Grobba. That twitchy scoundrel is all too fond of luxuries. What is he doing way out here? And what is that he’s carrying?”

“You mean the long brown thing? Looks like it’s wrapped in soft hide?”

Madd lowered the crystal. Several months’ growth of black hair slanted across his eyes, though his beard was scant in the way of his witchkin kind. “Considering he’s out in the wilderness, something that long could be a weapon. Maybe a spear?”

Vorgell clapped his hand on Madd’s shoulder. His little friend amused him. “Ha! Then he is a fool. A covered blade would be no good in a fight.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s for fighting. My guess is he stole it. And he didn’t hand it off or sell it, which tells us something. Any thief of good standing in Gurgh would hide out in Thieves Wart, not be riding away as if he had fiends lashing his ass.”

“True. Then we must surmise he's not a thief in good standing, and has been up to no good.” This was getting interesting. Vorgell liked challenges—and puzzles. “Perhaps we should make sure he doesn't get away with his ill manners.”

“Or his ill-gotten gains.” Good thieves never got caught—and the only time they risked getting caught was when the reward was exorbitant.

“Wait. He’s leaving the road.”

They crouched down to watch Grobba urge his mount across the rocky land toward a distinctive pile of rocks some distance away. Vorgell had earlier proposed the site as a place to spend the night, only to have Madd inform him that the place had once been a temple to some terrible god and was haunted by the spirits of sacrificed virgins. Vorgell put no limit on the length of time virgins torn from ever experiencing the world’s most earthy pleasures might carry a grudge.

A glance at Madd told Vorgell his friend also wanted to find out what would possess a man like Grobba to seek out such a place.

Vorgell pointed to the line of cover and together they scampered down the hillside toward the fallen temple. As they neared the toppled pile, Vorgell lowered a shoulder so Petal could leap to the ground, where she scooted ahead and dodged into a crevice between two toppled blocks of weathered stone. He signaled to Madd and, with a nod, they split up, each choosing a different path around to the other side. Months in the wild had honed their skills as a team.

It helped that Vorgell could move silently when he had need. He had honed his skills in the wild where hunting required great stealth, and he had claimed more skins than any other of his tribe. Indeed he owed much of his success as a thief and sellsword in Gurgh to his nimble footwork. Madd had taught him how to move as soundlessly through alleys and across rooftops as he ever had on stony ground. Now he crept past a block of stone several times his height, with a surface scored and shadowed by a shape that might once have been an idol’s eye. He peeked over a low edge.

Yes, there was Grobba. And Grobba was not alone.

Another man stood in the shadowy overhang of what had once been a hand carved of rock. Faint gullies remained between fat stone fingers now angled upward and pointed to the sun. A deep orange robe draped the lean body all the way to the sand and a hood concealed his face. Grobba removed the long wrapped bundle from his horse and strode toward the figure.

A quick glance past Grobba revealed Madd moving with cat-smooth steps along the deep shadow between fallen pillars. Petal too would be somewhere nearby, ready to turn her hard little stare upon any threat.

Grobba pulled back the hide to show what he had. “I told you I could do it. But I will not hand it over to you until you deliver my reward.”

The hooded stranger gestured to the deep shadow beneath the fallen god’s hand. Two chests waited there. Grobba walked over, casting careful glances at the robed one. He opened each chest to reveal mounds of gold. Vorgell’s interest sharpened. Each chest held enough gold to buy a barony. Whatever Grobba had stolen must be one of the treasures of Gurgh.

Grobba nodded with satisfaction. “Good so far. And the Salid’s promise?”

The robed one held out his left hand, dangling what looked to be a cord-wrapped scroll. Grobba smiled and reached for it. No sooner did his fingers close around the scroll than his throat opened in a blood-curdling scream. The scroll burned away and smoke curled from blackened flesh. Though Grobba snatched back his hand, the flame consuming his flesh continued to burn.

The robed man spoke, his voice so light it might have issued from a flute. “I said from the beginning your greed would be your death.”

Of all the things Vorgell feared and hated in this world, dark magic rattled him the most. Though he had often called Grobba an oily weasel, he would not stand by to see Grobba be cheated—and also robbed of his life. Vorgell unsheathed his sword and leaped at the figure stepping toward the bundle Grobba had dropped.

“Villain! Reverse your spell! If you do not, I will spill your blood!”

The robed man turned and brandished a knife in his right hand, his left still groping for the fallen bundle. Within the hood, light eyes the color of snake bellies glared from a sallow face. He had just begun muttering a few foul words when he screamed, the chant interrupted by a short sword slicing deep into his knife arm. The knife fell to the hard ground. Madd lifted his sword for a second blow if needed.

The man uttered a single word and lightning flashed forth from the earth itself, snaking into their blades. Vorgell staggered backward and dropped his smoking weapon. Madd, too, no longer held a sword. With a triumphant cackle, the man lurched for the hide bundle. He came face to face with a tail-thrashing, crest flaring basilisk.

Petal hissed and the green gold nictating membranes on her eyes retracted.

All color bled from the robed stranger. Within moments he was a deathly shade of ash gray, not to mention as immobile as a rock. Because he was a rock.

Madd shot her a thankless glare. “We were handling things just fine. Turning people to stone doesn’t solve every problem, you know.”

Petal hissed at him, too, but with her membranes restored and her crest flat against her scaly body. Their fallen foe no longer presented any threat. Vorgell turned his attention to Grobba, who was still writhing nearby, his screams shrill with agony. Madd joined them and was already fumbling for something in his pouch.

“Help me!” Grobba’s entire right arm crackled and burned from within, sending forth curls of foul-smelling smoke. With his left hand he grasped Madd by the front of his tunic, as if doing so could force the help he needed. “Cut it off! My arm! Or the magic will take it all!”

Vorgell caught Madd’s nod of agreement. Amputation was a drastic cure, but it was quick and worth a try. Because his sword might be cursed also, Vorgell unhooked his Scurrian war axe. It was a heavy weapon, but good for such work. But as he stood to deliver the blow, he saw he was already too late. The fire eating its way through Grobba’s flesh had reached his shoulder and begun to burrow into the torso.

The dying man sensed it. “He did me in, the bastard. He killed me. I am a greedy fool, to think an enemy would not be false. Listen”—Grobba gasped what might be his last breath—“take it. The Sun Staff. Do not let”—wild-eyed with pain, he dragged in another breath—“the Salid of Anssif destroy—” Only a scream issued forth then, followed by silence, and Grobba’s body began to crumble to ash.

Because they could not help him, Vorgell and Madd went back to where the hide bundle lay on the ground beside stone fingers that but a short time ago had been very much alive. Vorgell knew enough to be wary. He used the blade of his axe to nudge open the wrappings. Whatever was inside was made of gold. It was heavy and glinted with golden promises within its concealment.

“Don’t open it,” warned Madd. “We need to think about this.”

“Don’t you want to find out what it is?”

“You heard Grobba. It’s the Sun Staff. I know what it is, all right? The Sun Priestesses trot it out for ceremonies in the Temple. Only the Sun God or his Virgins can wield it. I didn’t think anyone could ever steal it.”

“What does it do?”

“Do I look like a Sun Priestess? I don’t know. Turns a bunch of old stones into warriors or some such thing. When the High Priestess holds it aloft, she invokes the Protectors of Gurgh.”

Madd looked frustrated as he pushed back a handful of overlong hair. Vorgell could not help but admire his partner’s fine features. It was his good fortune to partner with the prettiest thief in all Gurgh or anywhere else he had been. He looked around for Petal and saw her sunning on a rock.

He squatted down and, taking care to touch only the silky soft hide that hid the staff, folded enough away so he could look upon the artifact. It appeared to be made of gold. A heavy disk topped a thick rod inscribed with writing. The disk showed a falcon face and wings, and below that a wall and many more figures he could not interpret.