Magenta Salvation

by Piers Anthony

  He’d walked for hours, until the sun arose, but even then the trees kept Dale in near darkness. The day dragged on, Dale stopping occasionally to relieve himself and to rest his feet. The headache subsided, and just as Dale could see the red rays of the setting sun through the dense foliage of the forest, he heard the beating of hooves and a loud voice call out from behind him.

  “Ho, there!”

  “Who the hell are you?” wasn’t the response the “golden one” expected out of the disfigured, minuscule southerner, but he obviously hadn’t read Dale’s resume. The man was small compared to most of Upper Sultry’s super-sized royalty, only standing around seven and a half feet tall. But what he lacked in size he made up for in arrogance and brass. He dismounted from his abnormally large steed and approached Dale.

  “I am Lord Leofrickus of Forthwind. I seek the Sages of Knavesmare; does this road lead there?”

  Dale shrugged but didn’t respond. He couldn’t remember a thing about the sages, but the title sounded familiar, so he knew they must have something to do with his quest. If the path at hand did indeed lead to them, why else would Dale have been so close to the trail when waking?

  “Well, surely you must have some destination…we’re nearly a fortnight’s journey from any civilization. Where are you going?” His bushy handlebar mustache twitched as he spoke, the oiled curls glinting in a single beam of sunlight. He snatched off the wide-rimmed traveling hat and tapped the toe of his left boot impatiently on the ground.

  “North,” Dale said.

  “North?” The large Upper Sultrian smirked and nodded at Dale, “I should’ve expected such an obtuse response from a southern imbecile like you. Do you even know where you are?”

  “To be quite honest, pal, not really.”

  Leofrickus laughed heartily. “Typical! Another one of you dumb country bumpkins thinking you’re going to trounce on our soil and rule the world!” He mounted his horse once more and they took off on the trail in full gallop. “If you can’t take the heat, stay out of the fire.”

  Soon, the rider and his extravagant cape and steed were out of sight. Dale normally would have taught the noble a lesson in etiquette, knocking the uppity man’s teeth so far down his throat he’d be chewing his own ass out, but since his conversion to good via Virtue’s magical bite, he realized that being sidetracked by confrontation of any degree would be both inconvenient and unnecessary to the mission at hand. His goal was no longer bloodshed and mayhem.

  He continued along the path for the remainder of the day, and stopped in a small clearing just off the beaten path for the night. He never could sleep well at night, so it wasn’t surprising when he heard a twig break in the distance. More noise was made, and he soon could make out distinct footsteps coming towards his small camp beside a tree. As he sensed the figure at his back hovering over him, he reached back, locking his arm around the figure’s leg. He kicked up into the air, only his neck and shoulders remaining on the ground as he brought his right heel down in an ax-like chop onto the figure's head. There was a grunt and the figure toppled onto the ground as Dale mounted and captured the small man in an arm bar. Cranking down on the small arm locked between his legs, Dale was about to break it when he heard a familiar voice. “Dammit, Dale, it’s me!”

  Just then, Dale could make out Burgundy, the dwarf, and his purple hair in the moonlight. “Horny Toad?” He let go. “Then why didn’t you say anything, jackass? I was gonna tear you limb from limb. I didn’t know what the hell you were!”

  “You’ve been kicking my ass around the whole trip anyway. Every time I so much as looked at Helena you’d boot me in the ass or slap the back of my head!”

  “Every night you dry-humped her in your sleep!” Dale yelled.

  Burgundy waved his hands to hush Dale down. “Whatever! Whatever! I’m just saying, I wasn’t sure if you’d even want me around you after shit got crazy and we split up after the ambush…and I wasn’t entirely sure it was you…I’m not about to announce myself to a complete strang…”

  “Just shut up, you idiot! I don’t want to hear it right now.” Dale went back to his bedroll and pulled his cloak back over his body.

  Burgundy walked over to where he’d apparently set his traveling gear on the other side of the clearing. “Yeah, good idea. We’ll get sleep and deal with things in the morning.”

  “And if I feel hands on my shoulders and a poke in the rear tonight…” Dale threatened.

  “I’m hard up but not that hard up! I ain’t queer anyway, and if I was I’d surely pick someone a bit better looking than you! Goodnight, ass face.”

  “Goodnight, stubby,” Dale replied.

  

  The entire camp could tell Kuch the dragon-rider was terrified of the judgment their new leader would bestow upon him for failing to kill the Amazon. Kuch wasn’t one to be intimidated easily (how could you scare someone who has tamed a dragon?), but there was so little known about their leader, even gender being left a mystery, and the ethereal power which had been displayed by this entity had brought even the most hardened of Kudgels to their knees. Dragons, trolls, and giants…all of these and more Kuch could handle. But, like most Kudgels, it was the fear of the unknown which had them under this being's power.

  Some of the more stubborn members of the camp had doubted the power of their leader at first. After all, why should such a proud race as the Kudgels obey the command of someone who won’t even reveal his/herself? They passed off the displays of power as the simple parlor tricks of a novice mage, and even the warnings of the leader’s spokesman, the vampire, Ammarod Current, could not quell this lot of upstarts.

  That night, a terrible sickness had come down upon the village, but it only affected those who had initially resisted the leader and its spokesman. They came down with fever, their hair fell out, and horrible hives and boils erupted all over their bodies. Then, as if their insides had literally liquefied inside of them, their innards spewed from every orifice: a mash of lung, liver, stomach, heart, and intestines in fecal jelly. Kuch witnessed his brother fall victim to the malady firsthand, and, horrified at the prolonged, torturous death, had submitted himself whole-heartedly to Ammarod and his master.

  Today was unique, however, because the leader had requested to see Kuch personally. Nobody, save Ammarod and the Grand Hydra (a high ranking hill giant recruited years past) could enter the leader’s private tent. This could only mean one of two things: either he would be rewarded for being the only surviving member of his party, or he would be severely punished for failing to kill the Amazon. As he reached the small, ocher walls of the tent, the green-robed giant turned to Kuch. Normally the Grand Hydra would mock and jeer at one who would face the leader, but he knew and respected Kuch. Kuch was in a class all his own; a special order of elite, pure-blooded Kudgels who were ordained to tame and master the last of the dragons. Kuch was the poster-child of the Kudgel army: hardened, diligent, and defiant until the end. His multi-colored tattoos covered every inch of his body, and his tusks had been ornately carved with images of dragons and inlaid with gold. The scars on his arms marked the number of kills he had achieved, and his loincloth, which Kuch only wore on special occasions, was made from the fur of a saber-toothed tiger, the tail left intact and dangling from his waist at the back. To a member of the Kudgel army, recruit or no, this being demanded respect. The Hydra looked into Kuch’s eyes, and gave a somber nod. They both knew the possible outcome of this meeting.

  “You may enter,” he said.

  Kuch stepped through the gauzy curtains, and became immersed in darkness. He was nervous, and began scratching the still raw scar across his chest, and fought off the urge to dig into his wounded thigh. The golden bangles on his arm clanked as he shook with the unnatural cold of the tent, and he looked around until at last a bright candle illumined the room. Aside from the stacks of ancient tomes, and the crystal ball on a small table at the rear of the room, the only other item was a sheet of black cloth, hanging from the ceiling and wr
apped around a small figure. Kuch looked around, and was astonished to find no poles supporting the tent; the cloth seemed to support itself.

  “Step forward, Kuch,” came a voice from within the black cloth. It was deep and unnatural, as if modified to conceal the identity of the thing hidden inside the curtain.

  He stepped forward and fell to his knees. “I am frightened by your power, great one, but I will not make excuses…I have failed you.”

  Laughter filled the tent. It was not maniacal or malevolent. If anything, it seemed eerily kind and reassuring.

  “How have you failed me, Kuch?” it asked. “You chased Helena the Amazon for days on end, commanded your troops well, you even survived a duel with Nolan Ducat…yes, I know what has transpired. You need not explain yourself, or be afraid.”

  “It is true, master. We chased the woman night and day. My troops combed the wilderness, my dragon ravaged the countryside…but I only survived because the one-armed man let me. I was no match for him.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself. Nolan Ducat is a legend…practically a god…he would not have spared your life unless he respected your power. That is something to be proud of.”

  “You’re not going to punish me?” Kuch was perplexed.

  “Oh, contraire! You will be rewarded, although it may not feel that way when it comes,” it said.

  Kuch knew something was up. “I respect your power, but I know when I hear a lie. I’ve seen your power, and know any defense is futile, but the least you could do is be honest with me, master. What do you plan to do with me?”

  “I plan to give you eternal life.” Kuch knew he was doomed when he heard those words.

  He tried to turn and run, but his feet were held in place. Black mist rolled in from under the walls of the tent, spiraling around Kuch like a tornado, cutting off his air supply as it shot up his nose, in his ears, and down his throat. He gasped for breath, grabbing his neck as he felt the icy grip of death upon his heart, squeezing it like a vice. After the mist had done its job, Kuch was nothing but a mummified husk that shattered into dust as he fell to the ground. As the mist retracted from the pile of gray ash, it took form, feet first, until Ammarod Current stood facing where Kuch had been.

  His dark countenance turned upon his master wrapped in the shroud. “It’s a shame to lose a skilled rider like Kuch. Many in our army are expendable…he wasn’t.”

  “But you need worthy souls to help you grow strong, and prolong your life. Kuch is now a part of you, his skills, abilities…everything is yours now, just as with the others. Their souls haven’t been thrown out like the contents of a bedpan from an upper story window. Do you question my wisdom, child?” the voice asked.

  “I question nothing,” Ammarod had no fear of the being within the curtain. “But as your child, I have inherited your wisdom. You should know better than I, that even with infinite abilities one can only accomplish so much. Would you have me absorb our finest warriors one by one, until only I am at your disposal?”

  “Your opinion is well noted. Now, on other matters…” the voice was obviously annoyed with Ammarod’s defiance.

  “I was unsuccessful at killing Laurel. She had friends…I’m ashamed to say that being clouded with rage, they got the better of me, and I left before our quarrel drew the attention of the townsfolk. I let pride and vengeance detour me from our prime objective. I will return and…”

  “You will do no such thing!” the voice said, “You have been to her twice, the first time taunting and the second to slate your lust. You could have ended this in a second while she slept, but your feelings are and will hinder you from killing her. Your troops also failed to bring in Ben Clout. In fact, they nearly killed him!”

  Ammarod dropped to his knee not out of fear, but reverence. “I am sorry. I know how much you desire to have Benny Clout with us…had he died I would have…”

  “But he didn’t die, did he? In fact, it was just as I thought. Your brother Benny proved to be just as resilient as you were. I will take care of Laurel, my son, and destroy her for tearing apart our family! But we will be reunited once again. You must believe in my power and obey my instructions.” The voice slowly changed until the high pitch of a woman filled Ammarod’s ears.

  A petite, milky white hand reached out from the curtain and its black nails caressed Ammarod’s face. He reached out and held it tenderly, kissing it.

  “Yes, mother,” he whispered.

  Chapter 4

  Benny

  “W ake up, filth!” Benny heard as he was shoved off of his stool and onto the hard floor. “Judgment time has come.”

  Benny was confused, and there was a bad scrape on his arm. How had he come here?

  Picking Benny up by the hair, the guard bound Benny’s hands in front of him and dragged him back into the hallway and led him to a staircase. After an eternity, they reached a wooden door, which the guard kicked open, heaving Benny into the blinding sunlight.

  “Move, dammit!” A boot kicked him in the butt and shoved him back onto his face.

  “Keep knocking me around and I won’t go anywhere,” Benny snapped.

  The Voot responded by delivering a resounding blow to the back of Benny’s head. Realizing it was ridiculous to try and resist in his present state, Benny gritted his teeth and allowed the Voot to “escort” him into a large courtyard. Once his eyes had adjusted, Benny realized he was actually in a lush garden, surrounded by a multitude of flora that he’d never seen before. They traversed a narrow stone pathway through the grounds until he arrived at a gazebo where three Voot men sat in ceremonial robes. They were obviously top brass.

  “Hello, friend. I trust you’ve found our facilities accommodating?” the oldest Voot asked.

  “Quite,” Benny replied.

  The oldest Voot motioned for him to sit down on a cushion which had been placed in front of this elder council. His head, like the other tiger-men, was stout and rounded. However, unlike the others Benny had seen of the species, his fur was white striped with black instead of the various striped shades of orange and gold. As he spoke, his canines were exposed, and Benny couldn’t help but wonder if the pink staining was from blood. He wore a thick overcoat made of the same silky material Benny’s own attire was made out of, except it was far more elaborate, embroidered on a softer white material across the breast of the cloak, with the image of a swan before a setting sun sewn into it. On his head, he wore a tall red hat, rectangular in shape, with a thick cord of red and blue cloth with frilly tassels at the end. The two elders bordering him were dressed in a similar fashion.

  “You’re probably wondering who we are,” the elder motioned to his comrades. “I am Wang, and these two seated beside me are my personal advisers.”

  “You’re the big cheese around here, then?” Benny asked.

  The Voot elder chuckled under his breath. “Your colloquialisms are amusing. If by ‘big cheese’ you mean some type of leader, the answer is yes and no. I am the eldest of our people and, as such, I have been given special privileges and honors, as granted by the election of our people. But I am no king. We are a communal society, young human. We work together, sharing with and living off each other. No one here is any better than the next, myself included. However, under certain circumstances, like your own, one must be chosen to make decisions and determine the fate of certain undesirables. That is where we come in. We would like to know why you are here.”

  “I don’t remember how I got here,” Benny said. The elder frowned.

  “I can assure you, human, things will be a lot easier on you if you tell the truth. Outsiders do not merely ‘stumble’ onto our land. When they do, there is always a motive.”

  “For years without number, our race has been on the brink of extinction…we are victims of war and conquest, we have been enslaved, beaten, and massacred…forced into religion, government, and colonization by the race of man, dwarf, and elf…forced to immigrate from our homelands…we have been ravaged by famine and disease…�
� another elder said before being cut off by the white Voot.

  “The list goes on…” he said, “So, you have two choices, human. You can tell us why you are here, in which case we will have mercy on your life, or you can be executed.”

  “If I tell you why I’m here, you’ll let me go?” Benny asked.

  The white tiger-man laughed. “We will let you live, but you must remain here. You will be integrated into our society, an indentured servant at first, but through hard work, discipline, and reeducation, we may grant you citizenship in time.”

  “So you’ll do to me what you claim others have done to you?” Benny asked, growing annoyed.

  The elder on the left shook his head. “You misunderstand, human. In order to maintain our civilization, tradition states that, should any outsider arrive within our lands, they are to be either killed or integrated into our city. We do this not out of hatred, but because of the hardships our ancestors faced at the hands of races like humans, dwarves, hobbits…we do this for our own safety.”

  “Are you even listening to what you’re saying? You’re doing the very thing to me that you CLAIM was done to your people who knows how long ago. You yourselves are admitting these ‘atrocities’ committed against your people were done long ago, perhaps centuries. Hardly anyone even knows the Voot exist anymore! Until half a year ago, I didn’t even know what the Voot were. There may have been some truth to what you’re saying, but these are events that happened centuries before the oldest of you today were even born! What documentation do you have of this horrible history?”

  “Documentation?” The eldest Voot seemed perplexed by the statement.

  Benny rolled his eyes, “I mean how was this history recorded? What proof do you have that any of this stuff even happened?”

  “We have the word of our forefathers, passed down through countless generations! Do you accuse our forefathers of being lairs?” The eldest Voot was irate.