by Peter David
He had to be bluffing.
“Well? Your decision, Apropos. The last one you’ll have the luxury of making.”
“Get him, Apropos!” shouted the princess.
“Go to hell,” I said tightly.
His face darkened like a thundercloud. “You first,” he said, and he came at me. And this time there was no stopping him. He continued to hammer me back, back, his blade scoring at will, cutting here and there, wherever he felt like it. I backed up until I could go no farther, the wall of a mountain face stopping me, and he swung hard and I ducked under it. I think that was the only true moment when I actually saved myself, because his rage was building so greatly that it was that anger which made him miss me rather than my clumsy evasion. I tried to circle back but he cut me off. In the distance I could hear Titan’s whinnying combined with Entipy’s desperate pleadings that I should stop fooling around with him, giving him a false sense of security. Would that it had been the case; his sense of security was quite, quite genuine.
Back and back more, and despite the coldness of the air, sweat was cloaking my face, running in rivulets down my chest. My breath was heavy in my lungs, my vision starting to become blurred as all the little cuts continued to bleed, and I felt my strength ebbing. And Tacit wasn’t letting up, and when he lunged forward and actually stabbed me, I cried out in agony. The blade glanced off one of my ribs, but it was a deep cut, and I clutched at it as best I could to try and stanch the bleeding.
He stopped a moment to survey the damage, and that was when I gathered all my waning strength and lunged at him with my sword, giving it everything I had.
He caught the blade with one gloved hand, disdainfully, held it for a moment, then pushed the blade aside, my thrust so inconsequential that it didn’t even merit his sword to deflect it. He lashed out with one foot, catching me in the chest, right where the stab had gone in, and that sent agony ripping through me. I fell back, hit the ground heavily. He slammed his sword down and I just barely rolled out of the way. I tried to get up and he shoved a foot down on my chest, his swordpoint right in my face. His other foot was practically crushing my wrist, keeping my sword pinned. Not that it would have done me any good.
“Tell her,” he said, “or I swear to God, I’ll kill you right now.”
I looked into his eye.
He wasn’t bluffing.
“All right,” I said, the words more a sob torn from me than anything else. “All right, I’ll tell her.”
“Everything,” he said firmly.
“Everything … just … just …” Tears, unmanly tears, hot and humiliating, streamed down my cheeks unbidden. “Just don’t kill me … please … please don’t …”
“No promises. I’ll still kill you, like as not …”
“Tacit, please, don’t … it’s … it’s not fair …”
“Not fair!” he practically bellowed. “After what you did, you dare speak to me of fairness!”
The princess was far enough away that she couldn’t hear us. “Yes, not fair! You, Tacit, born brave, strong and true. Raised by unicorns, at one with the forest! Born to be a hero! Look at me, bastard son of rape, born lame of leg! I did the best I could with nothing! You had everything … everything so easy … !”
“Easy? You have no idea what I went through these past years, Po! No idea! Do you seriously think I went into the dangers I faced confident of my success? Do you think I didn’t know stinking fear every time some ogre tried to step on me, or some great beast prepared to rip me apart if I didn’t answer its damned riddle? But I overcame my inner weaknesses!”
“And so did I! You just don’t like the way I did it!” And then I cried out as he increased the pressure of his foot on me.
“Tell her everything … and perhaps … perhaps … I’ll let you live,” he said.
“What if she doesn’t believe me?”
“Convince her. Your life depends on it.”
“All right … all right, I’ll find a way.” There had been any number of times in my past that I had hated myself for my weakness, but never more so than that moment. “Call to her … tell her to come here …”
Tacit nodded and, never moving either foot, turned to shout to her. And I knew that somehow, I would be able to convince Entipy of the truth of it. She’d see me bawling like an infant, see that I wasn’t remotely heroic, realize that someone who would go to such lengths to save his own miserable hide was just some craven poseur who wasn’t worth the time of day of the meanest of the king’s subjects, much less his daughter. I had managed to make my cowardly actions before the Harpers seem like some sort of grand scheme, but I’d had to pull a phoenix out of my hat to make that even semi-believable. This she would never, ever go for. She would see all that I was, and hate me for it, and for reasons I couldn’t even begin to understand, I was saddened beyond measure.
Then I heard what sounded like a high-pitched buzz, ending with an abrupt thump. Tacit’s mouth was still open to call to Entipy, but there was blood trickling from it. He looked down in surprise at the arrow that had thudded into his chest. And then, before it could fully register on him, a second arrow joined it.
Tacit lost his balance and fell off me. I lay there, stunned, as he tumbled back into the snow. It might have been my imagination but I was sure that somehow, from in the distance, I could hear discordant, shrieking music … like an orchestra gone mad … or a herd of unicorns crying out in hysterical grief as if from one throat.
Blood was pouring copiously from where the arrows had struck him. Tacit struggled to his knees, broke off the shafts, shaking his head, trying to comprehend what had gone so wrong. He looked at me as if trying to see how I was holding a bow, and then another arrow struck him, this time from behind, and then more arrows. He shuddered each time they hit, and still he wouldn’t fall. He just kept shaking his head, all the color draining out of his skin as the blood left his face to gush out his chest.
“Tacit …” I whispered, seeing the only link to my youth which had any pleasant memories dying before me. I looked around … and saw soldiers advancing. They were wearing light armor, with the black and silver trim of the court of Isteria, and several of them had purple banners fluttering from their tunics. Soldiers of the king. Several bowmen had more arrows nocked, ready to let fly.
I looked back to Tacit. A dozen emotions warred for dominance in his face, and confusion won out. Despite the blood gurgling in his throat, despite the twisted jaw, I was still able to make out what he said.
“But … but … I’m the hero … “
And then one more arrow flew, struck home and pierced the mighty heart, and Tacit fell over, and died with the snow pooling red with his blood, and the mournful cries of unicorns fading over the mountaintops.
Chapter 23
I have no idea how long I remained there, crouched in the snow, staring at his unmoving body. The first one to reach us was, naturally, Entipy. She half-ran, half-slid over the snowy ground until she got to us, and she looked down at Tacit’s mortal remains. I had absolutely no idea how she was going to react. I didn’t know how to react myself.
She started to laugh.It was high-pitched and chaotic-sounding and even vaguely familiar, although I couldn’t figure out why. Her laughter continued as she circled him, staying just outside the pool of blood that was spreading across the snow.
“Stop it,” I said hollowly. I felt as if I had no more fight left within me.
Somewhat to my surprise, she did stop. She looked at me with astonishment and said, “He’s dead and you live. Don’t you think that’s funny?”
“I hadn’t … thought about it in terms of humor.” His eyes were still open, staring up at the sky, perhaps watching where his soul was departing to. I reached over and closed his eyes for him.
Entipy was now looking at me very oddly. “You’re crying,” she said. “I’ve never seen a man crying.” Her voice hardened. “What’s wrong with you?”
I realized she was right. The tears were still f
lowing. My face was so cold I hadn’t even realized it. I wiped them away as best I could and said, “I weep … for the waste of the warrior he could have been. For the young man who saved me from beatings or worse, back when I had what few tatters of innocence ever graced my spirit. And I weep for joy that you are safe from him. That … is all. If that makes me less the man in your eyes …” I let my voice trail off because at that point I didn’t care what she thought of me.
She was quiet for a moment and then—surprising me even more—she knelt down next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. Naturally I did not tell her that, most of all, I wept for myself … and my betrayals.
We remained that way until the soldiers got close enough. They were looking at us very tentatively, almost as if afraid to believe that they had found whom they were apparently searching for.
“Apropos?” the lead man said to me. I nodded slightly. “I am Captain Gothos, of the king’s men. And this … ?” He turned to Entipy and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Princess?”
“Aye” was all she said.
That was more than enough. Gothos and the others immediately dropped to one knee and lowered their heads. Entipy rose, looking very regal indeed despite her haggard appearance and the oddness of the situation. “Rise, Captain,” she said softly. She didn’t sound imperious. Perhaps she, too, was tired.
Gothos and the others rose, and one of the bowmen had come near Tacit’s body to inspect the handiwork of himself and his fellows. “Tacit One-Eye, right enough,” he said in approval. “The king’s been looking for this bastard since the Pell uprising. And just think, we got here barely in time to stop him from slaying a gallant squire.”
“Just think,” I echoed.
“Bring his head and his balls for the king as trophies. Leave the rest to carrion eaters,” Gothos said authoritatively, and one of his men moved forward with his sword to do his bidding.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I had interposed myself between the soldier and Tacit’s corpse. I had picked up my sword and I was holding it with utter confidence. “So help me gods,” I said very quietly, and very dangerously, “you try to mutilate this man, and I’ll kill you myself.”
“Squire! Stand aside. This is the king’s business!” said Gothos, choosing to pull rank as if I cared about such things at the moment.
“The princess has her own business,” Entipy abruptly said, which promptly captured all attention. She glanced in the direction of the cave that we had been in. “Take the body and place it there, in that cave. Seal off the entrance with rocks and debris. It was his home. Let him stay there.”
“But princess …”
” ‘But’ and ‘princess’ are not two words that should keep each other’s company, Captain,” said Entipy frostily.
Apparently that was all the incentive the “gallant” soldiers needed. They gathered up Tacit’s corpse and brought him to the cave. They disappeared within for a few moments and then emerged. They began to hammer at the rocks above, and at other debris and rubble nearby. It was not easy work, covered as it was with hoarfrost. But within about two hours or so they had managed to completely entomb Tacit into what would be his last resting place. Naturally by the time they had finished I had long since managed to compose myself, and had gone over to Titan to try and calm the great horse down. The poor beast seemed very confused, uncertain of what had happened, and frustrated that two of the individuals to whom he had felt the most loyal had come to blows. But explaining matters to a horse is no easy trick, and I did not even try. Instead I simply patted him on the side of the head, whispered niceties to him, and fed him some oats that one of the mounted soldiers happened to have in his saddlebag.
“The princess looks quite fit,” Gothos said to me. He was watching Entipy, who was standing a distance away, watching the laboring knights finishing the entombment of Tacit. “The king and queen are most grateful that, thanks to your efforts, she is alive. And what of the other knights? Those others who served as the escort? What of them?”
I told him, as quickly and straight forwardly as I could, of the circumstances of how the Harpers had descended upon us. His eyes widened as I recounted it. “The Harpers Bizarre are real?” he said in unbridled surprise. “I thought them merely creatures of myth.”
“Oh, they’re very real. And we had the fatalities to prove it,” I said.
“And what happened then? How did you escape? How did you come to be in the Outer Lawless regions?”
I began to reply, but somehow felt as if I simply didn’t have the energy for it. “It is … very complicated. Tell you what, Captain. Buy me a few mugs … no, a barrel … of ale one night, and I’ll tell you the entire tortured narrative. Dare I ask where the king is?”
“At Fort Terracote, awaiting our return. We’re one of several advance guards sent to sweep the area and see if there was any sign of you. Obviously there was.” He shook his head. “Tragedy about what you’ve had to endure up until now. But worry not. You’re with us, now. You’ll be safe.”
“Funny. That’s just what I thought months ago before the Harpers attacked and put me into this position in the first place.”
He had no answer for that.
As it turned out, though, the balance of our journey to the fort was sublimely dull. I couldn’t have asked for better than that. I rode upon Titan and the princess sat astride the great horse behind me. She leaned her head upon my shoulder and her arms were wrapped tightly around my middle. Some of the other soldiers and knights noticed and nudged each other with amusement or winked at me in a manner that seemed to indicate I was doing quite well in courting the fancies of a princess. Me, I couldn’t get my last image of Tacit out of my mind. That powerful body being carted off into the cave like so much refuse, tossed in and then entombed. It was better than being decapitated and left for scavengers. But on the other hand, it was far worse than still being alive. Which is what he would have been, if not for his “erstwhile friend.”
I wanted to feel relief … joy … rage … something. Instead all I felt was empty. The bleeding from the wounds he had inflicted upon me had stopped, but when Entipy held tightly on to me, they hurt like the devil’s own lashes. I said nothing, though. I felt as if I deserved to be in pain. I cannot think of many times in my life when I have felt quite as sorry for myself as I did during that long, slow ride back to Fort Terracote. I would hear the knights talking among themselves in low voices, and sometimes my name would be mentioned. I ignored them all.
We didn’t stop the entire way to the fort. We ate while on horseback, Gothos riding over to us to hand us provisions, including a large cooked leg of some sort of bird. Part of me grimly wished it were from the phoenix, considering all the aggravation that the damned bird had cost us. If it had only flown in the right direction, we wouldn’t have had all the problems to begin with.
It was getting late in the day. The terrain, while still chilly, had become more forested once again. There were no leaves in the trees, although the branches stretched high. It made me nervous, and I was constantly on the lookout for signs of anything that might come leaping out at us. Nothing was forthcoming, which was a relief. Then the trees began to thin once more and we found ourselves in a gorge that stretched around the corner of a small set of foothills. “Just around this bend,” Gothos called. I couldn’t have been more relieved. I was tired, weary of being on horseback, weary of having the princess’s arms around me as she would continue to tell me about how brave I was. I didn’t feel brave. As I said earlier, I didn’t feel anything. And more, I was wondering if I ever would again.
We came around the bend and, sure enough, there it was. The fort was on a rise, providing a good view in all directions. It was a good, solid stone fort, made all the better by the fact that its back two walls faced against a sheer cliff, unscalable by anything short of a gargoyle with clawed fingers. So although retreat out of the back of the fort was a practical impossibility, no one could get up from behind, either. The outer
wall was at least fifty feet high. The main door appeared to be solid oak, huge and reinforced. It would take a heavy-duty battering ram quite some time to pound through, and during that time archers on the parapets would be picking off assailants with relative ease. All in all, it seemed a rather safe place to be. Not far off was more forest area, with a wide path heading into it that I assumed (correctly, as it turned out) to be the main road called the King’s Road, which would lead us back to the capital city of Isteria and, ultimately, safety.
I saw dark clouds on the horizon. I hoped they weren’t more storm clouds. I’d had enough of bad weather for the time being.
Several knights atop the fort started pointing and waving when they saw us approaching. One of them pulled out a large ram’s horn and blew into it, and clear, beautiful notes pealed out from it. The large doors to the fort slowly opened and I was able to see groups of knights on either side pushing their shoulders against them. It underscored just how heavy the doors were. And there, standing in the entranceway, arms draped behind his back, was King Runcible. He was dressed for traveling, but he had the imperial crest on the front of his tunic. He was the image of restraint. I could see from his face, even at this distance, that he recognized Entipy, but he did not run toward her. Instead he remained exactly where he was, not saying a word. He nodded slightly to the incoming soldiers, but his eyes never left Entipy … except for one brief moment when they strayed toward me. He nodded to me as well, and I returned the gesture. Once the blast from the ram’s horn faded out, there was no noise except the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves.
We drew within a few feet of the king and I dismounted. Then I reached up a hand to help Entipy down. She glanced at my hand a moment … and then abruptly swung her legs back and vaulted off the back of the horse in a perfect rear dismount. She did everything except spread wide her arms and say something along the lines of, “Ta da.”
