Gunfire erupted. The tri-part mouth writhed and then came apart. The animal staggered back and died, its head reduced to pulp by Alaine’s machine gun. The jeep lights flared, and its engine raced as it circled around to pick up Christopher. Richard had used his magic to repair it.
“That’s right,” Richard said, extending a hand to pull Christopher into the jeep. “I earned honors at Oxford and went to an elven wizard academy so I could work in the motor pool.”
They raced on, although blindly. Lalania could not see beyond the headlights, and Christopher could not use his direction magic. Alaine steered her instead.
“This part is obvious,” she explained.
There were no more attacks. The machine gun was a weapon the enemy could not understand. There were defenses against it, of course— Christopher was wearing one of them, in the form of his cloak, which would have protected him from all those spears—but those defenses did not work without magic, as his recent encounter had demonstrated. Anything that got close enough to hurt them would be robbed of defense by the sphere and torn to pieces by the gun.
Lalania locked up the brakes again. The jeep came to a stop, idling, at the foot of a cliff that stretched up into the sky, beyond the range of his unenhanced vision.
“Now comes the hard part,” Richard said. “Also, the weird part.” He signaled with his hand, and Christopher dropped the field. That was the last of them. He and Richard could only master one each and still be able to prepare the gate spell.
With his night vision restored, he could see the cliff was five hundred feet high.
“You definitely want to strap in for this,” Richard reminded him. The wizard cast a spell and nodded to Lalania. “Drive on, miss.”
“It’s a cliff,” she said.
He pointed to a sloped bit at the foothill, steep but still navigable by the jeep. “Start there.”
She drove over to the slope and cautiously edged forward.
“Step on it, girl,” Richard ordered, and slapped her knee. The jeep lurched forward. Lalania grit her teeth and punched the gas, driving straight at the cliff, the jeep angling up sharper and sharper until it felt that it must tip over.
The wheels held. Even when the jeep was completely vertical, Christopher lying on his seatback like a bed, the wheels held. The engine whined and complained, the jeep slowing in its advance up the cliff side, and Lalania down-shifted.
“Might want to dump some weight,” Richard suggested, throwing a jerrican of fuel over the side. Alaine made a quick inventory of her ammunition stores and threw several boxes out the back, which was now also down.
Everything not bolted down fell into the back, most of it hitting Christopher on the way past. He caught the almost empty six-pack by its plastic holder, its one remaining beer still intact. After a moment’s contemplation, he regretfully threw it after the ammo boxes.
Alaine fired a few times while they drove up the cliff face. Fortunately, the machine gun was rigged for anti-aircraft fire, so she could aim straight up, which was now actually level with the ground. The various beasties thought better of pressing the attack and stayed away.
She also fired several times at the lip of the cliff, far above. Consequently, Lalania only had to dodge three large boulders thrown at them, one of them accompanied by a large troll that had been knocked loose by the machine gun. It flailed and wailed as it went past. Another dozen boulders fell, but they were launched blindly and fell harmlessly to the side.
When the jeep finally crawled over the edge, there was a crowd of trolls waiting for them. Alaine knocked down the front ranks with the gun, but they were already regenerating while their fellows leaped over them.
Christopher started throwing columns of fire. Richard added a few fireballs, and the problem went away.
Lalania advanced along the top of the mesa through the charred remains of the trolls, which blew away in a charcoal dust. A few hundred feet from the edge was a huge temple, vaguely Greek in architecture but on a giant’s scale. Not a single column was wholly intact; there were chunks of marble the size of cars scattered about, and the whole structure was missing a roof. She drove up a flight of shallow stairs, the jeep bumping with each step, and came to a stop on a well-worn marble floor.
Illuminated in the headlights in front of them was a single humansized figure, dressed in a black robe, skeletal hands clasped in front.
“WELCOME To MY PARLOR,” it said in a graveled voice, the weight of a thousand dead stones disturbed by a dreadful tread. Christopher remembered when the Wizard of Carrhill had pretended to be a terrifying undead monster. This was the effect he had been going for. Christopher vaguely wished the man could be here now, just so he could see how far short his attempt had fallen.
25
EXIT STAGE LEFT
A laine immediately opened up. She did not stop until the machine gun clattered to silence, its ammo box exhausted.
Christopher massaged his ears. The figure remained in front of them. The bullets had passed through it without effect. A marble column in the distance behind it slowly fell over, chewed to the core by the stream of lead.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Richard muttered. “Bashki would have been proud.” He got out of the jeep and stretched, raising his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders.
Lalania turned off the jeep and jumped out, throwing the backrest forward so she could extract the lyre from its steel box behind her seat. Alaine hopped down, landing lightly despite the armor she wore. Christopher was left to clamber out, his armor catching on the jeep frame and almost tripping him.
“YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS HERE,” the black-robed figure declared in a voice that brooked no argument. Christopher almost found himself agreeing and ready to get back into the jeep, but the statement was not directed at him.
“I’m just sight-seeing,” Alaine answered. “This is the closest I will ever come to your domain.”
“ALL COME TO ME IN THE END.”
“In a way, I suppose.” Alaine was, incredibly, smirking. “But only because we will win. We will not begrudge you a few hours of hollow boasting. We will not hear it over our celebrations.”
“Not even that,” Richard said. “By that point in the process, you will no longer be a coherent pattern of energy. There will be nothing left to gloat.”
“YOU CHALLENGE ME, MORTAL?” The voice did not register amusement or concern. It was vast and deep, beyond emotion.
“I do. Protocol demands that we negotiate first. Release the woman known as Mary Sinclair, and I will release you from my challenge.”
“A WOMAN. SO MANY ANCIENT AND LEGENDARY ENTITIES DESTROYED FOR THE SAKE OF ONE MORTAL WOMAN. WHOLE CIVILIZATIONS DIED TO RAISE THE WINGS YOU HAVE STILLED. AND YET YOUR GREED IS SATISFIED SO EASILY? CHOOSE, THEN. TAKE WHAT YOU WILL.”
Stone ground on stone. A dozen human figures rose up from the ground on circular daises of marble. They stood stiff and still as mannequins, scattered about the ruins at random. Christopher ran from statue to statue. Each was an impossibly beautiful woman, in the prime of life, completely naked and posed seductively. Their eyes were jet-black, without any white at all, which rather diminished their allure. None of them was Maggie.
He stopped at one, anyway. This one was male and merely very handsome. It was also familiar. Major Kennet, naked and yet whole, the damage caused by the pistol repaired. The young man looked good, aside from the black eyes.
“We need this one too.” Christopher called out.
“YOU HAVE MADE YOUR CHOICE,” the voice stated.
“No,” Christopher said. “None of these is Maggie. I’m not even convinced they’re real people. But Kennet doesn’t belong here anymore than Maggie does.”
“YOU SPENT HIM LIKE A COIN TO GAIN ENTRANCE TO MY REALM. WOULD YOU NOW ROB ME OF MY PAY? ARE YOU A THIEF, THEN?”
“You’re not one to talk,” Christopher shot back. “We’re all rulebreakers here. Give me my people, and I’ll go.”
Another g
rinding sound. Another figure rose up out of the ground. Maggie, wearing only her long red hair. Christopher ran to her, stopping himself from touching her only by an act of willpower.
Her eyes were black. The sight terrified him.
“A TRADE.” The voice should have had humor in it, or contempt, or something. Instead it boomed as flat and dead as the high plain. “PLACE THE WOMAN YOU BROUGHT UPON THE DAIS AND TAKE THIS ONE. FAIR IS FAIR.”
Lalania’s face blanched. Christopher shook his head.
“The deal is that you give me what I want, and I leave. You started this; you stole from me. You can’t negotiate now.”
“YOU STOLE FROM ME. MY FLOCK DEAD IN THEIR NEST. THEIR WICKED AND CURLING THOUGHTS STILLED. AN ETERNITY OF SILENCE.”
“Then they shouldn’t have attacked me.” Christopher fumed. Arguing with a god was a waste of time. This was one of the few lessons he had learned since coming to this world.
“THEY SAVED YOU. WHEN YOU WOULD HAVE FROZEN IN THE SNOW. A MEANINGLESS DEATH BY RANDOM CHANCE. NOW YOU DEAL WITH GODS. IS THAT NOT WORTHY OF GRATITUDE?”
“Pay attention,” Christopher snapped. “I already answered that argument. We’ve all done what we’ve done for our own purposes. Except you kept my wife from me when the rules of magic say you cannot.”
“I AM DEATH. I AM THE RULES. THE RULES ARE ME.”
“How bloody long is this going to go on?” Richard complained. He turned back to the jeep. “Where’s that other beer?”
“I threw it out,” Christopher said. He was a hundred feet away and had to raise his voice. “You said to dump unnecessary weight.”
Richard boggled. “What part of beer spells ‘unnecessary’ to you?”
Kennent slumped to the ground. Grating his teeth, Christopher pulled himself away from Maggie and went to help the boy.
“Sir?” the young man said as Christopher pulled him to his feet. “I’m ready to go.”
“Not yet,” Christopher growled. “We haven’t gotten everything we came for.”
Kennet looked around, noticing the other people. “Why are the ladies here? Is this what revival is always like, and I just don’t remember?” He looked down at his nakedness, but since there wasn’t anything he could do about it, he just shrugged.
“This is not a normal revival. That obviously failed. That guy,” Christopher jabbed his finger at black-robed figure, “Is the reason.”
“I HAVE A NAME.”
“I need a gun,” Kennet said, his face hardening. Christopher drew his pistol and handed it to the boy. Being naked was bad enough; being unarmed in this place would make anyone crazy.
“THEY DID NOT COME TO SAVE YOU. THEY WOULD LEAVE YOU BEHIND IF I GAVE THEM WHAT THEY TRULY WANT.”
Kennet raised the pistol and fired. When Hordur didn’t fall, the young man frowned. “I need a bigger gun.”
“There’s one on the jeep,” Christopher said, “but it won’t help.” He walked back to Maggie, slowly, warily, while Kennet sprinted for the jeep.
“STOP, THIEF.”
Christopher steeled himself and stepped onto the dais. He bent Maggie over his shoulder and lifted. In his arms, she became dead weight, her limbs dangling loose, no longer a statue. Just a corpse.
“VERY WELL. YOUR CHALLENGE IS ACCEPTED.”
Out of the ground in front of Hordur rose a black sphere the size of a beach ball. It was truly, unforgivingly black. Nothing reflected from any part of its surface. Wind whistled continuously as it rushed in to fill the unfillable void; dirt crumbled into the shaft it left behind.
“Finally,” Richard muttered.
“My apologies in advance,” Lalania announced, “but it is what he requested.” She bent her hands over the lyre and abused it, producing a remarkably good imitation of industrial techno rock.
Richard clasped his hands before him, his face set in anticipation. The sphere began to move slowly, inexorably, toward him. His eyes darted back and forth like a chess master burning through strategies.
Christopher hustled with the naked corpse of his wife on his shoulders, trying to close the gap without getting near Hordur or the sphere. He saw Alaine draw her sword and stand with her back to Richard’s. This was a remarkable act of confidence; the elf could not see the sphere’s advance. If he succumbed to it, she likely would too.
Kennet was standing in the back of the jeep, reloading the machine gun. Apparently he had been watching during Alaine’s lesson.
Christopher reached the jeep and dumped his wife’s body into the rear seat. He flinched as her arm bounced off the backrest. He spent a moment trying to tidy her or cover her up. They should have brought a blanket. At least her eyes were closed now.
Then he went to guard Lalania, drawing his sword and casting a weapon blessing.
“What’s the plan, sir?” Kennet asked him, pointing the machine gun at Hordur.
“The plan is Richard wins and we all drive home.”
“Is there a plan B?”
Christopher thought about it. “Not really.”
“Pardon me for saying so, sir, but that seems like poor tactical preparation.”
“Preparation is a strong word. We didn’t even think to bring a spare set of clothes. Or a blanket.”
He looked over. Richard was not winning. The sphere continued to advance at exactly the same rate as it had before. The distance had fallen to two dozen feet. The man did not appear to notice; he stood his ground, concentrating fiercely.
Christopher knew there was no point in fleeing. The sphere would follow as fast as Richard ran, closing the remaining gap at the same measured rate. Once engaged, the Mouth would not be denied until it was fed.
At a dozen feet, Christopher started to worry. At six he held his breath. At three his heart stood still.
“Oh,” Richard said. “Is that it?”
The sphere stopped moving.
“My apologies. I should have seen it sooner. I did not think I would cross space and time to solve a Hilbert space.”
The sphere moved back a foot and stopped. Christopher forced himself to breathe.
It lurched, suddenly, leaping two feet toward Richard before resuming its slow advance. It stopped again, only inches away, and Richard chuckled under his breath. “We solved that one a few years ago. You really should keep up.”
The sphere began moving backward. Hordur raised his skeletal hands.
“IMPRESSIVE. BUT NOT UNPRECEDENTED.”
The sphere paused briefly and then resumed its retreat.
“OTHERS HAVE WON THIS GAME. THEIR NAMES ARE HIDDEN BECAUSE THEY ARE NO LONGER MORTAL.”
Richard continued to concentrate. Christopher was distracted by a gurgling sound. He looked around and saw Kennet flopped over the gunnery frame, his throat slit. Hordur leapt from the back of the jeep and bent down, disappearing from view.
Christopher jerked his head around again. Hordur was still standing where he had been, the sphere gradually approaching him.
“Dark take it,” he growled, and ran to look behind the jeep. While he was running, Alaine begin firing her assault rifle, spraying a wide area as if firing at something she could not quite see. Christopher ducked below the jeep, not wanting to get hit, before remembering he was wearing his cloak. He stood up again.
Hordur—the second Hordur—was facing Alaine, laughing. It was hard to tell he was laughing because he had no face, just a dark spot in a hood, and he made no sound. Still, the posture was clear enough.
Alaine charged the rifle with another clip and resumed firing. The bullets bounced off the black robe. She threw the rifle aside and drew her sword from where she had stuck it, point first, in the marble floor.
Hordur raised his hands, a dagger in each, like he was extending an invitation to dance.
Kennet was dead, his head hanging on by a thread. There was blood all over the jeep and Maggie’s body. Christopher pulled the boy’s corpse to a sitting position and held the head on.
“This is a normal revival,” he told t
he boy as he cast the spell.
The young man’s eyes fluttered to life. He fell back, exhausted and confused. Christopher left him and went to help Alaine.
The skeletal figure was absurdly adroit. It leapt and capered; gamboled, even. Christopher and Alaine chased it with their enchanted swords, trying to hit a wisp with a sledgehammer. The twin daggers were a net of steel they could not penetrate. Well, not steel; their swords would have gone through that like butter. The dagger blades were dullish purple.
Despite the enchantment on his sword, Christopher noticed that the blade was taking damage. A nick here, a gash there, every time Hordur blocked.
While they fought, Hordur argued with Richard for his life.
“YOUR COMPANIONS WILL DIE AND MY PUPPET WILL SLIT YOUR THROAT. TAKE YOUR WINNINGS NOW OR LOSE EVERYTHING.”
The voice boomed over Lalania’s hideous music. It was hard to ignore.
“YOU DARE NOT SUCCEED. IF THE SPHERE TOUCHES ME I WILL BE GONE. WITH ME WILL GO MY TAEL. IRRETRIEVABLY. TAEL ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU A GOD.”
It should have been desperate or pleading. Instead it was the same robotic announcement.
“A CRIME AGAINST REALITY. TO DESTROY A BILLION LIVES FOR NO PROFIT. YOU WILL GAIN NOTHING. THE WORLD WILL LOSE THE IRREPLACEABLE. ACCEPT MY SURRENDER AND BECOME A GOD. RULE YOUR OWN PLANE WITH YOUR OWN RULES. LIVE FOREVER.”
Christopher risked a glance at Richard. The man did not appear to react to Hordur’s offer. This was incredible loyalty, far more than he had a right to expect. He had offered a healthy body and a new problem set, and the man had thrown away three years of his life without hesitation. Turning down Hordur’s largesse seemed almost uncharacteristic.
The puppet Hordur took advantage of the distraction to stab Christopher in the stomach, straight through his armor. Tael stopped the wound from being fatal, but it still enraged him.
He tried to drop a column of flame on the second Hordur, but it tumbled out of the way. When it rolled along the ground, he could hear the bones clacking. Then it was back on its feet and blocking Alaine’s two-handed swing with both daggers.
World of Prime 05: Black Harvest Page 26
