The Last Protector (12 page)

He moved slowly forward, staying several feet from the trail, and he heard the sound again. This time he could locate it, about fifty feet down the trail and overhead.

As Jape and Nalia continued rather loudly debating the etiquette of outdoor potty stops, Scrornuck cautiously and silently advanced. He heard breathing, rushed and nervous, in the trees directly above. There were two people up there, maybe three. He took out his sword and wiggled his toes just so.

"Howdy, boys,” he called as he landed on a branch between three black-clad soldiers. “Waiting for someone?” He squeezed Ol’ Red's grip with his left hand, and a few feet of the fiber-blade appeared, edges glowing just enough for him to make out their eyes and the blades of their swords.

After a moment's panic, the three soldiers attacked. Scrornuck fought gently, wanting to take at least one of them alive for questioning. He found this difficult in the darkness, as the soldiers’ black uniforms combined with the weak moonlight to make them nearly invisible. After about a minute, he had received a couple of minor wounds and found himself backed up against the trunk of the tree. Reluctantly, he abandoned his plans. Ol’ Red's blade flashed, there were a few muffled noises of the kind people make while drawing a pre-scream breath, and three bodies fell to the ground.

Scrornuck dropped to the trail, and yet again took out his prayer book, opening it to the marked page. Jape slowly circled the bodies, probing them with his toes. Nalia, pale and holding a hand over her mouth, stared at Jape. He shrugged and said, simply, “After a while—"

"—you get used to it,” she finished softly. “I don't think I want to."

Scrornuck said his “amen” and put the prayer book away. “Let's see who these guys were,” Jape said, holding up one hand to kindle a small ball of light. Scrornuck gently removed the helmet from a corpse. In the pale light of Jape's lamp, he recognized the man as a member of the gang that had attacked Nalia in the bar. “Another of our special friends."

The helmet had cracked down the middle when the soldier hit the ground. “Not very sturdy,” Scrornuck said, pulling on either side of the helmet and easily splitting it in half. He removed the breastplate from the least bloody corpse, and tore it in half with little effort.

"Recognize this?” Jape asked, handing Nalia the clean half of the breastplate.

She ran her finger along the shiny black surface, tracing the outline of Spafu's wing. “I can't recall seeing anybody wear armor like this. Hardly anybody wears armor at all, really, just kids who are learning to duel, and they wear heavy stuff made of metal. This is different. It's so smooth..."

"I think it's injection-molded polystyrene."

"Poly-what? Is that some kind of magic?"

"Some people say it's a ‘magical’ material..."

"Cheap plastic,” Scrornuck said derisively.

"But the ‘magic’ part refers to its being inexpensive and easy to mold,” Jape finished. “Hmm...” He looked more closely at the image of Spafu molded into the armor. “Some kind of charm, maybe a defense against magical weapons?"

"Didn't do him much good,” Scrornuck said.

"The Mayoral Guards have dress uniforms with this image on them,” she said thoughtfully, “but it's not armor, it's just sewn into the cloth, and they only wear them on really special occasions."

"Well, for now it's one more mystery,” Jape said. “Maybe it'll make sense later."

With a deep sigh, Scrornuck started down the trail, Jape and Nalia hurrying to keep up.

"Something bothering you?” Jape asked softly.

"Those guys never stood a chance."

"Against you, who does?” Jape patted Scrornuck's shoulder. “You were just doing your job."

"I thought this was a peaceful place."

"So did I. It appears that some people around here don't like us."

"Just once, I'd like to go someplace where everybody does."

"That makes two of us,” Jape said.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Nalia paced around the campfire. “I've lived nineteen years in this town, I've gotten in my share of duels and fights, but I've never even heard of anybody killing anybody—until you got here!” She pointed her finger squarely at Scrornuck. “Now there's bodies falling from the trees, people shooting arrows at us...” She stopped, quivering with anger. “By Spafu's tail, I should turn you in the second we get back to town!” She jabbed her finger at him again. “You said you were the good guy, you said I could trust you. Hah!” With that, she stalked off toward her tent.

Scrornuck slowly stopped chewing on his leather-like hunk of preserved survival rations. Nalia's outburst surprised him, for she hadn't said much of anything since the ambush in the forest. But he saw her point: in her experience, people followed a code that strictly limited violence, and he'd shattered that code into a million pieces. True, he'd done it in their defense, but nonetheless he'd killed eight people today.

"Nalia, you're right,” Jape said in a soft voice. “I owe you an explanation.” She stopped, and slowly turned to face the fire. “There is much I haven't told you,” he continued, “because I feared you wouldn't believe me. You were rather skeptical about the mind reading."

"I still am,” she said. But she took a few steps toward him.

"I'm afraid this will make mind reading sound positively ordinary."

"Great, just great.” She came to the fire and stood silently for a moment before sitting down with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, hell, go ahead and tell me. I don't have anywhere to go tonight. But I don't promise to believe you."

"Very well,” Jape said. “You already know Mister Saughblade and I aren't from Taupeaquaah."

"No shit?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I hadn't noticed."

"Well, we're not from Khansous, either.” He took a deep breath. “In fact, we're not from this world at all."

"What?” Nalia's eyebrows went up, way up.

"I know this sounds strange, but there are over two thousand different worlds. I'm from one, Mister Saughblade is from another, and yours is another still."

"Aw, crap!” Nalia stood. “Mind reading, other worlds—what a load of bull!” She stood up and stared down at Jape. “Tell you what: if there are really two thousand worlds, prove it! Take me to another one, right now!"

Jape glanced at a gadget that looked a lot like an oversized pocket watch hanging from his belt. “Sorry, but I can't do that from here, at least not right now."

"I knew it! Bullshit, bullshit, and more bullshit!” she said, storming off toward her tent. “Let me tell you something, Mister Ranger,” she called over her shoulder. “There's exactly one world, and it's this one, right here under our feet!” She stomped her foot hard for emphasis, raising a small cloud of dust. “And you can tell your bodyguard we have rules against killing people!"

Jape watched helplessly as Nalia crawled into her tent and yanked the flap shut. Slowly, he raised his left hand and looked at the jewel in the largest ring. It now glowed more yellow than green. “Less than twelve days,” he said, and wearily trudged to his own tent.

With a sigh, Scrornuck picked up his blanket, took some supplies from the pack, and walked over to the stream. Wrapped in the old plaid, he leaned against a tree and dangled his bare feet in the cool water as he worked. Cleaning the kilt was easy: he simply swished it in the stream and hung it from a tree branch to dry. Most of the blood washed out, and what didn't blended in with the brown-splotches-on-red pattern. The wound in his side required only a good washing in the clear spring water, followed by some antiseptic goo and a bandage from the first-aid kit. Thanks to the magical stuff in the goo, it would heal in four or five days. The shirt, however, was hopeless. The rip was much too big to fix, and even a long soak in the stream wasn't removing the blood. Sheeyit, he thought, this was one of my favorites.

A couple of fat fish nibbled at his feet. He wished he'd seen them before breaking out the leathery survival crap.
Well, there's always breakfast.

After scrubbing the last of the dried blood from his side, he slipped into an open-collared Jacobite shirt that was long enough to prevent public indecency if he didn't bend over too far, gathered up his gear and strolled back to the fire. With a sigh, he tossed his ruined shirt onto the coals. It sizzled, steamed, and eventually consented to burn.

The light in Jape's tent went out, and a minute later a steady buzz-saw snoring filled the air. Far away, a lone coyote howled, seemingly in response. With one last thought about Jape and Nalia, Scrornuck curled up in his plaid blanket and fell into a light, observant sleep.

In the wee hours he arose to answer the call of nature, and also found that his kilt had dried. As he fastened the garment around his waist, he heard a noise from Nalia's tent. She quietly slipped out, looked around, and started walking in the general direction of the trail that led toward Taupeaquaah. Stifling a sigh, he slipped on his boots and followed.

Within minutes she'd lost sight of the campfire and was traveling in a random path. He stayed out of sight, letting her wander until she appeared to be on the verge of panic. Then, without a sound, he stepped from the darkness into a pool of moonlight directly in front of her. “Going somewhere?” he asked, suppressing a smile as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his chest and cried, “I just want to go home, and now I'm lost. I was afraid I'd just wander in circles until something ate me...” As if on cue, a wolf howled in the distance. “I'm scared."

"I won't let the wolves eat you."

She looked up with wide, wet eyes and gulped. “I think you scare me more! You killed those guys like it was nothing."

"I didn't want to. They were trying to kill us."

"Taupeaquaahns don't kill people,” she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Nobody told these guys."

"I know,” she sobbed. “I don't want to believe this mind-reading stuff, but I could tell they were out to kill you.” She clung to him as the wolf howled again. “And that creepy Captain is out there someplace..."

"Not to mention the mysterious Lord Draggott."

"I don't even want to think about him."

He patted her back gently. “Well, maybe we should get back to camp."

"I guess. I just want to go home. I have a nice little apartment, two rooms with a door that locks and a nice warm bed. I just want to wake up tomorrow morning and find this was all a dream. Even my old job at Syb's looks good now."

He looked carefully into her wide, fearful eyes and spoke in his most serious voice. “Listen to me. Even if you don't believe anything else Jape or I say about mind reading or other worlds, believe this: I promised to bring you back safely. I keep my promises."

She wiped her eyes. “I think I can believe that. I might not even have to pretend."

Nalia's random walk hadn't taken her far from the camp, and soon they were close enough to hear Jape's snoring. A moment later the fire and the tents came into view.

"I still won't be able to sleep,” she said as Scrornuck tossed a fresh log on the fire. “My head's all full of scary stuff."

"Think this would help?” He produced the almost-empty wineskin.

She shook her head.

"Some music, perhaps?” She nodded, so he assembled his pipes—taking special care to wet the reeds—and played a soft, rambling melody.

After a while she looked up from the fire. “Scrornuck?"

"At your service."

"Tell me a story. I need something to help get my mind off..."

He put a finger to his lips. “If you're trying to get your mind off something, you shouldn't be talking about it.” He tugged on the end of his beard as if trying to bring it to a sharper point. “A story, let me think...” He knew plenty of tales, but most concerned bloody battles and hideous monsters, and weren't likely to relax this nervous young woman. What she needs, he thought, fiddling with the oddly-shaped stone hanging from a string around his neck, is something just a little silly. The
Tail of the Virgin Queen
would be an obvious choice, but it didn't translate well to the common tongue—most of the really naughty puns went away. Besides, the
Tail
was a song, and needed a guitar for accompaniment.

"What's that thing?” she asked, interrupting his contemplation.

"This? It's a rock.” He undid the string and handed her the pebble. It was a rather common stone, shiny and a bit oddly shaped, looking from one angle rather like a duck's bill. The ordinary leather string passed through what appeared to be a natural hole.

"Just a rock?” She rubbed the stone between her fingers. “Then why do you wear it?"

"It's special—it's a dragon-slayer."

"What do you do, throw it hard enough to knock the dragon out of the sky?"

"Not exactly...” He stopped short and thought. “You know, the tale of this rock may be just what you're looking for. Want to hear it?"

She smiled slightly. “It's not too bloody, is it?"

"Not bloody at all,” he assured her. “Once upon a time, not that long ago, there lived a tall, red-haired young man who was on a Quest to find the answer to the Great Riddle of Life..."

Scrornuck trudged down the muddy road into the mist-shrouded mountains by the sea. He'd departed his village in a mixture of excitement over the coming journey, sadness at leaving his friends and family behind, and deep regret over having destroyed his grandfather's sword. Though no words were spoken, Scrornuck saw the tears in his father's eyes when he brought the blade home in pieces. Despite his hurt, the old man had directed Scrornuck to the mountains, to a Great Sage who was said to know the answers to all questions. The journey took many days, concluding with a long, treacherous and exhausting climb to a small, dark cave behind a waterfall.

Cold, wet and bruised from several nearly-disastrous falls, Scrornuck hauled himself into the cave and heard a voice speaking from the darkness, inviting him to warm up by a small fire. He did this, and in time the Sage appeared, wearing a long green robe that brushed the ground and moving in a way that seemed more floating than walking. The Sage offered Scrornuck a skin of wine and listened as his guest told the story of the Knight, and his quest to answer the Great Riddle of Life.