The Last Protector (32 page)

He pointed to a small notch in the far ridge, a fair distance up the mountain. “I think that's the path to the top."

With Scrornuck in the lead, they slowly made their way down the ridge and into the valley. By the time they reached the snowfield, the air was cold enough for their breath to form puffy clouds as they spoke. “Do you get much snow in Taupeaquaah?” Jape asked.

"Just a little for the winter solstice festival. It's always gone in a day or two.” She packed a snowball and playfully tossed it at Scrornuck.

He ducked, made a snowball of his own and fired it on a path that grazed Nalia's hair, leaving a few wet flakes behind, before spattering on Jape's hood. “Hey,” Jape protested, “that stuff's cold!"

"No whining! I know you've got the heat on."

"You're just jealous your kilt isn't heated."

"How do you know it's not?"

When they were a bit more than halfway across the snowfield, Scrornuck heard a soft, distant click, followed by a hum that grew steadily louder. “It's snow-making time!” Clouds of white sprayed from hidden openings along the ridges, and feathery flakes soon filled the air. The artificial blizzard lasted five minutes, depositing half an inch of powder on the slope before the machines shut down and all was again silent.

Jape shook the snow from his cape. “You're sure nobody in Taupeaquaah knows about this place?"

Nalia looked wistfully at the snowfield. “Most of us never leave town. We've sure missed a lot."

"You'll have to tell people when you get home."

"When I get home.” She frowned for a moment, then put an arm around Scrornuck and smiled. “Yeah, I'll have some great stories, won't I?"

They climbed through the notch in the far ridge, back into the warmth of a late-summer Khansous afternoon, and continued up the mountain. Shortly before sunset they found themselves just shy of the summit, their path blocked by a sheer, eighty-foot cliff. After inspecting the precipice for a minute or so, Scrornuck sighed. “No handholds, no footholds, no ledges to jump to,” he said, pulling pitons, rope and a hammer from the pack. “We'll have to climb this thing the old-fashioned way."

"What do you mean, no handholds?” Nalia said. She took off her shoes, threw the coil of rope over her shoulder, and started climbing. Scrornuck stared in frank admiration as she scampered up the rock face, her fingers and toes finding tiny cracks and nubs. After a few minutes she disappeared into a dark crevice about halfway up the cliff. About the time Scrornuck was starting to worry that she'd gotten stuck, he heard a triumphant whoop from the top of the cliff, and the end of the rope slapped him on the back. Nalia stood atop the cliff, on a small overhang directly above. “Rope's tied off,” she shouted. “Come on up!"

After tying its end to the backpack frame, he climbed the rope to join Nalia atop the cliff. She greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss. He called down to Jape, “Elevator's ready,” and the Ranger climbed onto the backpack, straddling the frame and holding the rope.

"Going up!” Scrornuck shouted, and together he and Nalia started hauling Jape and the pack up the cliff. “Where'd you learn to climb like that?” he asked.

"I've always been a climber,” she said. “Trees, walls, the high cliff down by the river—my parents said that from the day I was born I climbed everything in their apartment. Once, on a dare, I climbed the City wall."

"Really?” Scrornuck thought about the wall; as far as he could remember, it was smooth, featureless white stone. “Wow."

Once Jape was safely atop the cliff, the three took a moment to enjoy the view. The dark green hills of the forest rolled one after another into the distance. Further away, the dunes of the Compact Desert shimmered red and purple in the early-evening heat, and the brown dust clouds of the Perpetual Storm swirled angrily against the red sky.

Nalia pointed to the far north. “Look, I can see home.” On the horizon, the peaks of Taupeaquaah's towers sparkled red and orange in the light of the setting sun.

After a short rest, they continued up the gentle slope, moving slowly through the twilight beneath the trees. From time to time Scrornuck saw flashes of orange light in the sky, dragons flaming as they circled the mountain.

Jape got out the softscroll, called up his map, and pointed to a green dot. “We're here, which means the Orb's somewhere over that way.” He pointed into the woods ahead. “Of course, with the whole mountaintop being flat, there's a lot of ground to search."

"A shitload of ground to search,” Scrornuck said, striding forward. In minutes he came to the top of a small rise, where the trees came to an abrupt end. “Woo-hoo!” he exclaimed. “It's not flat after all!"

"What?” Jape broke into a trot to catch up.

"Hold it!” Scrornuck stuck out his arm. “Bit of a drop here!” A few feet past the trees the ground fell away—the mountaintop was in fact a crater, well over a mile across and surrounded by sheer cliffs nearly a thousand feet high. In the distance he saw dragons riding the updrafts above the cliffs and descending over the rim to feed.

Jape stared into the crater and whistled softly. “Alpine Lake, they called it. They weren't kidding.” The bottom of the huge pit was filled with calm, dark water. “And there's what we came for!” He pointed enthusiastically to a small, conical island near the lake's center. A tower, barely visible in the gloom, stood at the island's high point, and atop the tower, a violet-white light flickered.

Scrornuck took out the spotter-scope. “Great,” he said, without much enthusiasm. “Every time we run into that thing, you two go into a trance and I get burned up.” He extended a telescoping pole from the scope and stuck it into the soft ground, forming a simple stand for the instrument. “And a bunch of bad guys try to kill me."

"No satisfying some people.” Jape unrolled his softscroll.

"Yeah.” Scrornuck pointed the scope at the light. “See anything?"

"Not a lot.” Jape pushed buttons, rapid-fire, trying to make the most of what little light remained. A series of images danced across the scroll: ghostly green, cool blue, rainbow colors. All were grainy and showed little detail. “The IR image shows it isn't hot, but we already knew that. Other than that, it's just too dark to make out any detail.” He rolled up the scroll. “Might as well leave the scope here. We'll look again in the morning. Mister Saughblade, what's for dinner?"

Scrornuck made camp in a level clearing a safe distance from the cliff, a place with good sight lines just in case they had unwelcome guests during the night. While Nalia entered her tent to put on some warmer clothes, he wandered back to the cliff, where he found Jape, turning in slow circles with his hands raised. “Finding something interesting?” he asked.

"Maybe, just maybe,” Jape said. “Watch the purple ring.” He turned in a slow circle as Scrornuck followed, trying to keep his eyes on the ring. “See how it brightens and dims?” They made a second slow circle, and as far as Scrornuck could tell, the purple ring remained the same brightness no matter which way it faced. They made a third circle, and he finally saw what Jape was talking about—the ring's flicker brightened a tiny, almost imperceptible amount as they turned. “It's not much,” the Ranger said, “but it's a reading..."

"Hey, guys, you dancing?” Nalia called as she strolled over from the camp.

"You asking?” Scrornuck shouted back.

"If you're dancing, I'm asking."

"Well, I think you'd make a better partner than the one I have!” Scrornuck trotted back to meet her and linked arms with her for a quick do-si-do that turned into a long, pleasant embrace.

Jape walked back more slowly, making notes in his scroll, and nearly tripped over a stone.

"What's that,” Nalia asked, “a new dance step?"

"Just distracted,” Jape said. “I've been plotting a small variation in the Orb's reading.” He laid the scroll on a fallen log as Scrornuck and Nalia looked over his shoulder. A slender hourglass shape, one side purple and the other white, lay over his map. He pointed to the focal point, where the halves met. “This is us.” His finger then moved to the north-northwest, into the purple. “In this direction the signal is just a little stronger."

Nalia studied the map. “The only thing up there's the dust storm."

Jape moved his finger to the south-southeast, into the white half of the shape. “And the signal's weakest in the direction of that tower."

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?” Nalia asked.

Jape nodded. “That's what I'd expect. But the instrument's been acting strange ever since we left the palace. I'm guessing it's a phase-inversion effect—the ring's showing the exact opposite of what's really out there, which means the strongest signal is in the direction of the tower. And there's no denying the Orb's out there. With any luck, we'll make sense of things tomorrow."

Dinner was delicious—steaks cooked over the fire and washed down with some excellent wine—but soon afterward, Scrornuck found himself suffering a nasty case of indigestion.

"Eat too much?” Jape asked, watching Scrornuck rub his swollen belly.

"Not sure I...” Scrornuck's words disappeared into an enormous belch, one that filled his mouth with a foul taste of fish and cheap liquor. “Excuse me!” His words were swallowed by another discharge of fishy stomach-gas. “What the...” His belly rumbled ominously, and a moment later a massive blast of flatulence split the air.

"Did you have to do that?” Jape demanded, half-laughing. “My eyes are watering!"

"Sorry...” Scrornuck struggled to get up, barely made it to a sitting position before the biggest belch yet blasted forth, straight into the campfire, creating a ball of orange flame.

"What do you think you are, a dragon?” Jape opened the medical kit and handed Scrornuck a white pill. “Get away from the fire—
downwind
—and take this!"

Holding his bloated stomach, Scrornuck staggered about thirty feet from the campfire and swallowed the pill. A moment later the medication went to work, emulsifying and releasing the gases in his digestive system, and after about two of the most unpleasant minutes of his life, the pressure in his belly subsided and he cautiously returned to the fire. “What the heck was that?” he asked. “I feel like a popped balloon!"

"Might have been that dragon fruit you ate this afternoon,” Jape said. “I'm pretty sure that dragons flame by igniting intestinal gases, and that would mean they need a
lot
of gas."

"Well, those berries'll do the job.” Scrornuck rubbed his sore stomach. “Is that why they tasted like fish?"

Jape shook his head. “That dragon we saw this afternoon looked an awful lot like an ancient flying reptile that lived on fish, crabs and such. The fruit probably smells like fish so the dragons will want to eat them."

Scrornuck released one last small belch, carefully aiming it away from the fire. “The dragons can have them."

Jape nodded. “I think that's a good idea.” He reached into the pack and found a longneck beer. “Well, if you're feeling better, how about a little after-dinner music?"

Scrornuck grabbed the Setron. “Sure, why not? Anything in particular?"

"Something classical or artsy, perhaps. Let's see what you can do with that toy."

"Something artsy...” Scrornuck squeezed the Setron's grip tentatively. It throbbed against his fingers, inviting him to try something challenging. “Okay,” he whispered, “let's try this thing—” He took a deep breath and played a long, single electric guitar note that turned into an initial theme. A slight change to his grip brought in bass and rhythm, following his lead.

He found himself in a dialog with the instrument, both commanding it and receiving suggestions for new themes and variations in the subtle vibrations of the grip. The Setron responded enthusiastically, changing its voice, adding layers of backing, stirring in more complex rhythms, making abrupt transitions from soft-and-contemplative to fast-and-loud. He decided the piece needed words, and let the vibration of the grip suggest nonsense lyrics—phrases and half-sentences, tossed together in meaningless but attractive disarray. I'm singing the bridge column, he thought—yet it somehow sounded
right.

As he played, massaging the grip with his right hand and furiously working the fretboard with his left, he danced, spinning, kicking, leaping into the air on the high notes. Finally, the piece reached its climax, and he dropped to one knee, bowing his head as he sang a soft coda.

Nalia stood and clapped enthusiastically. “That was great!"

"Thanks,” he said, sitting next to her and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"What's it about, anyway?” she asked.

"It's about—well, it's...” He realized had no answer.

"It's about six minutes and forty-two seconds,” Jape said. “Beyond that, what's it matter? In a hundred years we might know if it's a great artistic statement or just another dead raccoon rotting by the roadside."

"How can you play so many instruments at once?” she asked. “You don't have that many fingers."

"It seems to follow me. I taught it some of the harmonies and backup instruments, and it followed my lead. Heck, the thing's probably smart enough to play itself."

"Think so?” Jape asked.

"Let's find out.” Scrornuck flicked his fingers across the fretboard and played the first few notes of a cheerful dance number. Then he gave the grip a squeeze that he hoped meant
you know this song,
and set the instrument down. It kept playing all by itself. “You dancing?” he asked.

"You asking?” she replied, holding out her hands.

He pulled her to her feet. “I'm asking!"

The song was a fast number that had them skipping around the campfire, occasionally having to hop over Jape. “Hey, watch it!” he protested as Scrornuck soared overhead, “I don't need to know what's under that skirt!"

"Boy, you'll show everybody but me,” Nalia said with mock indignation.

"You just have to be in the right place.” Scrornuck laughed, picking her up and spinning her around in time to the music, setting her down gently just as the song ended.

"Woo, that was fun,” she said.

"This next one should be better.” He put his arms around her as the Setron began a soft, slow number.