by Eric Ugland
“It’s warmer than I thought,” I said.
Darius just nodded. He picked up his book and flipped back a page. Evidently our conversation was over.
I spent another moment looking over the egg, trying to gauge what might be in it. Being that the god of monsters, who was something of a friend, an ally perhaps, gave it to me, I had to imagine it was something impressive. But I recalled Typhon saying it was something experimental. Which could wind up being bad. I hoped it still had a while to incubate. I didn’t need to figure out how to raise a monster with all the other shit going on. I gave the egg a gentle pat, and it seemed to vibrate in response.
In a flash, the sky darkened, going from early twilight to absolute night.
Unable to help myself, I walked over to the windows — now with glass! — and stared out as strange clouds rolled in, black roiling things that seemed to fight amongst themselves. Tendrils reached out and around, ripping and tearing the clouds, but also making more clouds.
There were bright flashes of color in the distance as power traced up from the ground to the sky. Reverse lightning, in a way. It made my brain hurt.
Howls echoed through the valley, loud enough to penetrate inside. Screams and screeches.
In the flashes of reverse lightning, I saw large beings with wide wings launch into the sky.
“Fiends’ Night begins,” one of the minotaurs said softly.
57
It took no time to understand why so many Fiends’ Night traditions involved work or play and noise. The shrieking outside was hard to hear. There was a fundamental wrongness to it, and while I was immune to fear, I could tell the others in my room weren’t. Darius put a pillow over his head. The other minotaurs stuffed cotton in their ears. Even then, their knuckles went white, gripping hard onto their weapons.
“You’re doing great,” I shouted.
One of them nodded. I had no idea if he heard me, or just saw that I’d been talking and so responded.
Out on the wall, we had purposefully left most of our torches and fires burning, so we could see what was happening outside. Or, rather, if we needed to see what was happening outside. I could see things crawling over the walls. Things with too many legs and arms. Things with tentacles and wings. Lots of things with teeth, or with spikes. It was very much a procession of vile creatures. Nearly all of them went straight for the tunnel, then through it.
A few prowled around the grounds, sniffing. I had to purposefully stop myself from going out on the balcony to see if they were trying to get inside the door.
Then something slammed against the glass.
Burning red eyes peered through the window, directly at me. A long pointy snout with a thin mouth filled with needles on it pushed up against the glass. Hands on either side, like a grotesque mockery of a child looking in a store window. Wings drooped out on either side of the creature’s face. It seemed to smile at me as I stepped back, a little shocked.
“Can I come in?” it asked, its voice coming directly into my head as well as being muffled outside. Very disconcerting.
“Not today, bub,” I said.
“Pity,” it said, and gently scratched at the glass. The noise made my skin crawl.
More things like it landed on my balcony, all creeping along, sniffing and checking things, as if they were searching for an opening to exploit. More hands against the glass. Faces mashed tight.
“Can I come in?” another asked.
Then another.
The requests tumbled on top of each other like a jumble.
“No,” I said firmly. “You can kindly fuck off.”
“Kindly?” the things repeated over and over, like a demented echo.
Then one launched itself off the balcony, and the rest followed, like a horrific flock of birds.
“This goes on all night?” I asked.
“Your grace?” one of the minotaur guards asked, reaching up to pull the cotton from his ears.
I shook my head and stopped him.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Leave those in.”
He nodded, and I stalked out of the room. A whole new set of winged creatures were on there way, and I had no desire to go through the rigamarole again.
Once I got to the other side of the door and down the hall toward the stairs, the nightmare noise from outside diminished, more than a simple door should have allowed. It made me feel bad for the guards inside. Well, for the guards everywhere around Coggeshall. Would they be able to handle several hours of that insanity without losing it? Also, did the noise go on the whole damn time?
I sighed, and continued on downstairs.
A quick check of the rest of the windows I knew about made me feel even worse for the guards. Each one provided a relentless assault on the senses. Knocking on windows, screaming and screeching, calling out names. The sheer diversity of fiends slamming against the windows was staggering. But they did no structural damage, which in itself was odd to watch. Creatures as big as the fiends hitting as hard as they seemed to hit should have done something, especially to glass. And yet, nothing.
Crazy.
I tried to give smiles and encouragement to the guards as I went down, making my way all the way to the main entrance.
It was bad down there.
Not only was there a tumult from outside, there were growing problems inside. The why was easy. Outside came knocks on the door and calls for help. For mercy. Shouts that the fiends were coming, and that those outside needed refuge. They just needed to come inside and get away from the fiends before the fiends took them. Devils were coming! It sounded very much like children screaming and begging.
Hard to listen to that and not want to act.
And, clearly, some good people in Coggeshall were listening to their hearts and not their heads, as a group of about seven humans were trying to push past the guards to open the door.
“YO!” I shouted good and loud.
The scuffle stopped as my people turned to see me striding down the stairs.
“None of this now,” I said, still loud, but trying to keep my anger down. I didn’t enjoy seeing anyone fight with my guards.
“They are letting children die out there!” one man said. “They are cowards. You are a coward!”
“I just looked outside,” I said. “There are no children out there. Just lots of nasty things with teeth and the desire to eat you. Or whatever it is they do.”
“Coward,” the man said again. “He is a coward!”
The man was attempting to rile the crowd up, but he wasn’t having much luck.
“Never seemed much of a coward to me,” one woman in the group said.
“I saw ‘im fight the trolls by hisself,” an older woman said, nodding.
“Nothin’ cowardly ‘bout that,” a man said, nodding. “And them bears, took them on.”
“Saved us from the slavers by hisself too,” the older woman noted.
“You can think of me however you like,” I said, walking toward the agitated man. “But there’s no one out there. If there was, I would try to save them. But I looked through the windows to make sure — there’s nothing there.”
The man gritted his teeth and looked at the door. The cries outside continued, and I could see him debating.
But there was something different about the cries — almost as if they realized the pleas weren’t working, that the doors would remain shut. The sounds became creepier, sounding more and more inhuman. Finally laughter rippled outside, high-pitched and grating.
The man gave me a nod. Then he tried to make a break for it, clearly planning on opening the door.
I grabbed him by the shirt collar, and his legs kept going. I didn’t let him fall all the way, just a little, before I picked him up and carried him away. Then I clamped my hand over his mouth, because he was trying to scream out something that was probably an invitation for all those lovely fiends outside to come in. I had zero desire to deal with that sort of nonsense that early in the night.
> I remembered a brig deep in MountainHome, at the back of the secondary barracks. I carried the struggling man through the barracks, where a few snoozing soldiers woke up a little confused, and into the brig area.
A guard stood up quickly as I entered, nearly spilling his mug of tea and definitely upsetting the rather impressive house of cards he’d built.
“Your grace,” he said.
“At ease,” I replied.
The guard gave a nervous nod.
“This guy’s having some trouble,” I said. “Is there a cell for him?”
“Um,” the guard said, looking out at the various cells in the brig. “All of them?”
“Not much crime in Coggeshall?” I asked.
“Not yet, your grace. Haven’t yet had a guest here.”
“Look at that,” I said to the man who’d finally stopped struggling. “First guest. Do you want to choose your cell?”
He shook his head.
I shrugged and put him in the nearest cell.
“Sorry, your grace,” our first prisoner said. “I don’t know what—”
I shook my head.
“I get it,” I said. “That is tough shit to ignore. Take a break in here. Get some sleep.”
The man nodded. Slowly he walked over to the bunk at the back of the cell, and laid down on the stone.
I looked over at the guard. “You can let him out in the morning.”
The guard nodded. “Yes, your grace.”
And I left.
58
The major events of the night could hardly have been more different. On one level was the big ball. Our second ball, technically, but our first thrown by Coggeshall itself. And then, lower down, the great dwarven project. I was in between the two, trying to decide where to go and what to do. I could hear music coming down the stairwell, and hammering and yelling coming up.
Frankly, I didn’t want to be in either. I only had one night to find The Master. That’s what I needed to be doing, but I only had one clue.
Thing.
What the fuck, Mister Paul?
I needed help. Smarter people. Maybe a team of smarter people. Right away, I knew Nikolai would have issues with bringing more people aboard my Master hunt. But we were running out of time, and considering Nikolai had just checked out, I was on my own.
Of course, I had to find everyone. When things were normal and I knew where everyone was supposed to be, that was challenging. But now, when there were parties and people having the freedom to do whatever, finding my team was going to be about as hard as finding The Master.
My first stop was the ball. The music was loud and cheery, and drowned out even the most thunderous cries from the outside world. It was bright inside, festive. Lots of laughter, some of it forced, but it really seemed like most people were having a good time. Obviously most of the room was devoted to dancing, but there were some tables along one edge for people to sit at, and a small buffet set up along one side.
I smiled at everyone as I walked along, giving a few nods here and there, until I got to the food. Being that I could almost always eat, I grabbed a handful of candied nuts and scarfed them down. Delicious. A mug of cool cider, and I looked over the crowd.
Eliza was right in the middle, dancing with a man I didn’t know. She laughed as her partner flubbed a step in a rather gleeful and energetic dance. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair had fallen down a little from the perfect coif she had had earlier. She looked beautiful.
I sighed.
I wanted her on the hunt, but I couldn’t exactly cut in to take her out of the ball. Or could I? I was the duke...
I kept scanning the crowd. I saw Ragnar sitting at a table near the corner, tossing nuts into the air and catching them in his mouth.
I walked over and sat down next to him.
“Your grace,” he said between catching nuts.
“Ragnar,” I answered.
“Have you come to dance?” he asked.
“Are you asking me?”
“Not sure you’re my type.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I tend to like pretty guys.”
“Are you trying to say I’m not a pretty guy?”
“Did I say guys? I meant girls.”
“Ah. Amber’s not here?”
“She is not.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Likely avoiding me.”
“You do come on a little strong.”
“We can’t all have the ladies throwing themselves at us.”
“No one throws themselves at me.”
He looked over at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Really,” he said.
“Really.”
“I know you’re thick at times, Montana, but come on.”
Because the world has a sense of humor, Eliza’s cousin picked that exact moment to waltz over and stand in front of me with a big smile on her face.
“Your grace,” Marguerite said, dipping into an absurdly low curtsy that nearly put her gown into a fail-state, “you promised me a dance.”
I smiled at her, then glared at Ragnar.
“Stay there,” I said. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“Maybe more,” Marguerite said with a smile as she pulled me out of my chair and onto the dance floor.
I let her drag me along into the center of the space, noticing that people gave me all the room I wanted. Possibly because they thought I couldn’t dance, and I was about to dance my several hundred pounds across their toes.
And then we started dancing.
A flashy, fun thing at first, rowdy and exciting, with people romping around the dance floor.
But that morphed into something slower and more sultry, and my dance partner chose to lean her head onto my chest and sigh rather suggestively.
“You are a very large man,” she said.
“Uh,” I replied. “Yeah.”
I could feel her laugh a little. It’s not exactly like there’s an easy way to respond to that.
“You are a very interesting man,” she said.
“Not sure that’s true,” I replied. “I’m just me.”
“And you are humble. It is rare to meet a humble duke.”
“How many dukes have you met?”
“Most of them.”
“You mean most of the Glaton dukes.”
“Are there any others who matter?”
“Probably, but—”
“Then I shall say I have met most of the dukes in Glaton. Better?”
“Sure.”
“There are quite a few, yet so many seem similar. You, though, are different.”
“Are there archdukes?”
“Yes.”
“Have you met them?”
“I have met three.”
“How many are there?”
“In Glaton or around the world?” she asked, looking up at me with a smile. “There are five in Glaton. How is it you do not know?”
“Adopted,” I said.
“That’s right,” she replied with a nod. “I seem to remember that. Very noble of your father to give his house to you.”
“I mean, it was either that or let it fade into obscurity.”
“There are five archdukes, though I would imagine a sixth will be made soon enough.”
“Why?”
“Because there is no archduke for this entire area in the northwest. Right now, you are the lone duke.”
“Lucky me.”
“I think so.”
She pressed herself harder against me. I clenched my teeth shut.
I most certainly caught the exceedingly dark look being shot my way from Eliza.
As the song ended. Maguerite grabbed hold of my hand. “One more dance?” she asked.
“Sadly,” I said, “I have duke business to attend to.”
“Your grace,” she said in a big pout, “just one?”
“No,” I replied. “And certainly not if you’re going to pout and act lik
e a, well, whatever. Not my cup of tea.”
I gave her a perfunctory bow, and then stalked off the dance floor, aiming directly for Eliza, who now realized I caught her staring and was busy trying to get up from her table and pretend not to have been watching me dance the whole time.
But I got to her first, and stood right next to her, so when she stood up, she ran into me.
“Oof,” she said, and hit me with a fist. “Out of my way, your grace.”
“A moment, if you will,” I said.
She frowned. “Must I?”
“I was hoping to recruit you to a small, uh, thing.”
“I am fervently hoping there is no euphemism amongst what you are saying.”
“Oh, no. Nope. Just a thing I can’t exactly talk about, except to say that it might involve our recent trip to Osterstadt.”
“Is this ‘thing’ going to remove me from the ball?”
“Yes.”
“Then obviously I cannot go, your grace.”
“Why?”
“Well, as you have seen fit to absolve yourself of hosting duties, it falls to me. We cannot both be gone from here — it will leave this ball with no host, and that could very well devolve into something unpleasant.”
“Certainly wouldn’t want an unpleasant ball.”
“Duke Coggeshall, this ball may seem frivolous, but I hope you understand the real purpose behind it.”
“To keep people away from the horrors outside,” I said. “I get it.”
“Then you understand—”
“I get it, okay? I get it. I’m just stuck trying to do something as well, and it’s not, I mean, I don’t... I can’t talk about it here.”
“I am needed here, your grace. Might I suggest Emeline?”
“She’s on my list.”
“I am glad I am your first choice,” Eliza said. “At least for this.”
She’d said more than she meant to, and she blushed deeply as soon as she realized. So she grabbed her cup from the table and stalked off toward the bar.
