by Duncan, Dave
“Of course. Better hold my hand if you want us to stay together. I think you’ll go faster than I will.”
Guys did not hold other guys’ hands! Izar grabbed Rigel’s wrist instead, and they stepped into the red fog together. His feet left the ground, which quickly faded out of sight, but that was the only sensation of movement. At first he just seemed to be floating in the red mist, but soon the rainbow began to curve and his head emerged enough for him to see. The light hung around his neck, like water, just below the level of Rigel’s shoulders. Rigel was watching his reaction and grinning, so he grinned back.
Had he suggested holding hands in case Izar was frightened? No, the bridge really was trying to pull them apart, dragging Izar forward.
“Does this work at night?”
“It’s never night here. Always sunshine, always a rainbow.”
“Cool! How do we come back?”
“Just jump aboard and it brings you automatically.” Rigel grinned again. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it!”
“Yeah. Then why’s Saiph shivering?”
Rigel sighed. “It’s a warning. Not really close danger, not yet. It was tearing my hand off when you started talking to that hippogriff again. This is just a ‘Be Careful!’ sign.”
“Stop babying me!”
“Sorry. You remember how I told you that Vindemiatrix has too many secrets? Well, this bridge is supposed to be the only way in. There’s some sort of magical defense against air cars. I had Achird try it out and he agreed, said he couldn’t get near enough to land, even on his skyboard. Squadron Leader Gianfar admits that her griffins can’t land there either.”
They were rapidly approaching the crest of the bow, with the red light down around their knees. Ahead loomed the sunlit mountain, glorious against looming storm clouds.
“But?” Izar prompted. Why did danger always make a guy want to pee?
“But this was Starborn Elgomaisa’s childhood home,” Rigel said. “He was born here and grew up here.”
“Explains a lot.” All this gloomy rock and cloud—no wonder he had black hair!
“Then listen. The palace can only be entered through the corpse hall. Everyone must enter by the main door and walk the length of the hall. In ancient earthling mythology, Valhalla was a feasting hall for dead heroes waiting to fight for the gods in the final battle at the end of the world. It’s where they would spend centuries carousing and having a great time. They won’t pay any attention to you as long as you leave them alone. I don’t like this, because Hadar could hide the entire Family in that mob and you’d never notice. Starborn Elgomaisa says I shouldn’t worry about that, because the warriors would notice and make a fuss. But Saiph has never warned me like this before, not here at Vindemiatrix, so something’s wrong.”
Rigel was in danger but Izar wasn’t? That sounded more like Elegy than Hadar.
“If,” Rigel added, “there’s something nasty waiting for me up ahead, I’ll trust Saiph to come through as usual. You’re quite certain your alarm bracelet isn’t itching? I must have the truth, starling.”
“Not a twitch, Rigel, honest.”
“Good. Then I want you to scamper! Get out of the way so that I don’t have to worry about you, just me. I must be able to concentrate. All right, hero?”
“Scamper how?” If Hadar and his killers were waiting at the far end of the rainbow, then jumping back on it would do no good. They would follow, and there was nowhere to hide down in the meadow.
“There are two ways. If you go to the far end of the corpse hall, you’ll find a corridor leading through into what feels like it ought to be the middle of the mountain, but it opens into a sunny garden with a lake and fruit trees, and all sorts of villas, cottages, pleasure gardens, and so on.”
Izar nodded, trying to ignore his bursting bladder.
“The moment we land,” Rigel said, “I want you to run to the far end of the hall, along the corridor—you can’t miss it—and into the main palace. And there you must insist on being taken to Starborn Ascella, Elgomaisa’s mother. Your Naos hair will get you past any arguments. I told you she won’t have anything to do with halflings like me, but her son is paired with the queen at the moment, so she’s very unlikely to turn you over to Hadar. Ask her to see you back home.”
No! Izar would warn her that his bodyguard was in danger and if anything happened to the marshal of Canopus in Vindemiatrix, the queen would feed Ascella Starborn to the palace dogs. “Yes, Rigel. You remember how Naos Kurhah planned to attack the Family, but Hadar struck first? And tomorrow you’re planning to ambush Hadar at Kraz? Isn’t that a worrisome simil’rarity?”
They were right at the crest of the rainbow now, looking down on the golden hall ahead.
“Stars!” Rigel said. “That isn’t imp thinking. You’re growing up awful fast, Naos Izar.”
Izar was pleased, but not about to be distracted. “Answer my question!”
“Yes, my lord. Hadar may not be the problem here. Elgomaisa has his own reasons to hate me.”
Yes, there was that. And what Rigel didn’t know was that just last night Izar had stupidly let Ukdah into the fake-consort secret and when Elegy had turned up this morning, he’d noticed Ukdah’s silly smirk at Izar, so he knew they knew. Still, Elegy must know how dangerous it would be to challenge Saiph. “What’s the second way to scamper?”
They were sliding swiftly down the great arch now.
“There’s a throne at the far end of the corpse hall. In the legends, that was where Odin sat, the chief god, so I suppose the lord of Vindemiatrix can sit there and pretend he’s Odin. There’s a shield hanging on the back of the throne. If you push it aside, you’ll find a secret portal behind it. At first Lord Elgomaisa said he didn’t know it was there.”
Izar stared up at him in disbelief. “You mean Elegy told you there was no other way in or out ’cept the rainbow? And he grew up here? Grew up here and didn’t discover a concealed portal?” What sort of a thud-brained starling had he been?
Rigel nodded. “Then he changed his story and said it was the root portal, sealed up.”
“That could be.”
“Except my amulet says it’s still active. It doesn’t work for me, but that may be because it only leads to other portals in Starborn Ascella’s domain, and I don’t know any of them. Or it may open to portals in Phegda that you don’t want to visit, like Unukalhai. So I think Starborn Ascella would be a safer bet.”
So Izar and Rigel probably couldn’t escape through that portal, but Hadar might be able to bring the whole Family in from somewhere. Then Izar looked up at Vindemiatrix straight ahead and said, “Oh, wow!”
From this angle all he saw was the gable end, with no windows, only a big central door, but both the logs of the walls and the thatch of the roof were gold. Because the ledge on which the hall stood was so much higher than the river, the rainbow hardly started to bend downward before it ended, not far in front of the door.
Rigel said, “The living quarters are all in back. This is just the theme-park part.”
“What’s a theme park?”
Before Rigel could explain, they arrived at the end of the rainbow. The red light was still barely up to their knees, but they felt rock under their feet and stopped moving. When Izar let go of Rigel’s wrist, Saiph was hammering like a ravenous woodpecker, while his own warning bracelet was still doing nothing.
Chapter 30
Izar saw Starborn Elgomaisa waiting for them, and wished he didn’t. But just the sight of him in the doorway emphasized how enormous the hall was. Built of tree trunks two or more paces thick, set directly in the ground, it really was god-sized. And, judging by the appalling racket, there was a major war going on inside.
Nobody bowed to anybody. Rigel had already greeted Elegy that day and Izar honored only Mom now, except sometimes when he forgot. The next step would be to insist that adult starborn bow to him, but he was going to wait awhile before announcing that.
“Welcome to Vindemiatrix, starling,” Elegy t
old him with a piggish smile. “I’m sure you’re grown up enough not to let the dead heroes in here frighten you. As long as you just look and don’t touch, they won’t even notice you. Even then, all they’ll do is shout at you. Run in and have a look! As for you, halfling, you’re late! You’ve kept me waiting.”
“I didn’t realize, my lord,” Rigel said. “We had to wait for a hippogriff. Naos Izar wanted to come by car, but the queen still forbids him to fly one without a qualified driver along.”
Oh? Izar had never mentioned air cars, and Rigel never called him Naos Izar in public. That pig dung must mean that Rigel was trying to tell him something. Was the message that there had been no air car or other vehicle parked at the far end of the rainbow? How had Elgomaisa himself gotten here?
“That’s a beautiful pegasus down by the river, starborn,” Izar said, to show that he understood. “Who owns him?”
“My mother does. Now why don’t you run around, starling? Have a look while I put the halfling’s mind at rest about some of his concerns.”
At that moment a dead mudling came staggering out of the hall. He was corpse-pale, dressed in blood-soaked rags, and had lost half his left forearm. Jagged bone showed through the stump. He fell on his knees in front of Izar and vomited violently.
“I told you you’d feel right at home here,” Rigel said. “That’s the way they welcome all first-time visitors.”
Izar detoured around the still-vomiting corpse. Another one, with half his head cut away, was peeing on one of the doorposts. That reminded Izar of his own problem, so he went to stand beside him—or it—to relieve himself of his own troubles. The monster looked down at him with half a smile and said something with half a jaw and half a tongue.
“It sure does,” Izar agreed. He hadn’t understood a word, but guys’ usual remark when meeting under such circumstances was that it felt good, didn’t it?
Meanwhile, what was he going to do? A guy couldn’t desert his friend, even if his friend had asked him to! Izar’s amulet still wasn’t sending him warnings, but Saiph had certainly been signaling danger to Rigel. And while Izar himself wasn’t built like a warrior yet, he did own a Lesath that crisped nasty people for him. As soon as he had finished what he was doing to the doorpost, and sure he was far enough away from Elegy and Rigel that they wouldn’t hear him—the din from the hall was loud enough to drown out a thunderstorm anyway—he stamped his left foot twice and said, “Edasich! Edasich!” He only had to say it once more for his friendly halfling-eating pet to appear and start cleaning up any Family trash that might be prowling around.
He also turned on his eavesdropping ear clip. The result was a most enormous roar of sound. The corpses seemed to be doing all their yelling in some unfamiliar language, or perhaps it was just invented babble. As he moved his head, he picked out snatches of individual voices, but he understood none of them.
At the entrance to the great hall stood two enormous piles of ever-shiny swords and axes, left there by the guests. It really was doggy! There had to be about a thousand dead warriors feasting, but it didn’t seem cramped at all. Somewhere far ahead, probably in the middle, a huge fire was blazing, billowing smoke up in a cloud that hid the tops of the huge carved and gilded pillars.
Most of the warriors were grouped around long plank tables, which seemed to be placed at random, but others were walking about, or standing up and singing, carousing, or speechifying. Some were just fighting—rolling on the floor, punching, strangling, and doing their damnedest to kill other corpses that were already as dead as themselves.
In fact, Vindemiatrix looked like a lot of fun, but it would be a lot more fun if Dschubba or Ukdah was there to share it. And a lot less fun if any of his murderous half brothers and half sisters were skulking in among all that scenery. As Rigel had said, it would be easy to hide in the crowd.
Yes, Avior would love this place! It was her sculptures come to life…or at least action. All the corpses were earthlings, most of them very large, as tall as starfolk males, but thicker and broader. They had wimpy little human ears and masses of hair everywhere. Most wore armor of either leather or metal, in many different styles, and almost all of them displayed hideous wounds. They were all corpse-pale, with blue lips and unblinking eyes, but there was no stench of decay, or blood, or even male sweat; just wood smoke and beer fumes.
Slaves in rags and metal collars were hurrying around, refilling drinking horns from buckets. Buxom maidens were assisting the entertainment along in various ways. None of those were corpse-colored, but they still weren’t real. If this were a real feast, or if Izar had designed it—and he was already planning the magnificent battlefield he was going to include when he imagined his own domain—then the floor would be covered with scraps of meat and bones and puke and scavenging dogs. Instead it was just smooth, clean gravel—sharp underfoot and shiny clean. The air ought to stink more, too. Small details could ruin a domain.
Meanwhile, how could he help Rigel? Well, Rigel was being distracted by Starborn Elgomaisa, so Izar should look around to see who might have joined the party without being dead yet but should be. If he found any, he would loose Edasich, and she would liven up the party.
Two men crashed to the floor right in front of him. The one on top was huge and stark naked, all covered in blond hair. The one underneath was quite young and much slighter, wearing bloodstained furs and handicapped by the absence of his right hand and left foot. With both hands around the other corpse’s throat, the big man started beating his victim’s head up and down on the gravel, splattering blood and systematically caving in the youngster’s skull.
Inspired by a sense of fair play, Izar kicked the attacker in the ribs. His foot didn’t go right through, as he expected. It hit something hard—as hard as…as the side of a bull, maybe.
“Cut that out!” he said. “You can’t make him any deader.”
The big corpse roared in fury and sprang to his feet. He had been disemboweled and had shiny entrails dangling. He shook a truly enormous fist in Izar’s face and bellowed at him in a tongue so guttural that Izar could not even tell whether it was proper language or not.
The victim scrambled up to join in the abuse, as if he had been enjoying the match. His head gradually resumed its former shape, spitting out embedded rock chips, which turned from red to white when they hit the floor. Then the younger corpse stopped shouting long enough to resume the fight by trying to stamp on the naked man’s trailing viscera with his one good foot. He overbalanced on his stump and fell hard. Instantly he was underneath and getting his head flattened again. He had probably been doing this for seventeen hundred years.
Izar left them to it and wandered off through the mob. He saw Rigel’s shiny helmet and Elgomaisa’s black hair moving along the wall, so there had to be a clearer passage for the living on that side of the room. He paused to gape at what seemed to be an orgy of four dead warriors and a couple of the buxom maidens, until he remembered that it had been in progress for centuries and nothing more was going to happen. He resumed his journey. This was all very showy and must have taken years of work, but it wasn’t all that convincing. If the same things happened over and over again, and there was no progress or genuine life, then the corpse who greeted visitors would have drowned the whole mountain in puke long ago.
Izar’s battlefield, now—when he got around to imagining it—was going to have real dragons, dragons that mated and laid eggs and grew up and got killed. He was going to start with the dragon nest and once he had gotten that right, he would go on to imagine the castle where the heroes lived, and they would grow up and mate and die, too. He might even let real starborn joust with his dragons, making it real enough that some of them would get scorched to cinders. Real sport, like that chimera at Alrisha that had eaten chunks of Starborn Sadatoni!
The noise of this place was making his head throb.
He was tempted to turn off his eavesdropping amulet, since all it was giving him was meaningless jabber. These corpses weren’t
speaking any language he had ever heard. What could be putting Rigel in danger? Hadar, of course, but how could he have known that Rigel would be coming here today? Vindemiatrix had been kept very secret. Even Avior…
Oh, piss! Elegy, of course! Elgomaisa had ordered Rigel to come, and no doubt because he’d set up the trap with Hadar days ago. Traitor! The threat wasn’t Hadar or Elegy, but the two of them in cahoots.
“…coming directly from Alsafi, so be prepared to…”
Izar stopped dead. He knew that voice! It belonged to one of his odious half brothers—Sadalbari, maybe? Izar carefully turned his head to and fro a few times, trying to pick up more, but the thread of conversation had disappeared. All the same, he was sure he had heard those few words correctly. He knew Alsafi, because it was a subdomain in Phegda; he had used the swimming hole there many times as a young imp. It was where he had met Mom after Rigel rescued him from Giauzar. And “coming directly” almost certainly meant coming by portal. Vindemiatrix might have other portals, of course, but maybe the one Rigel had described had been opened, at least to a portal in Alsafi. If the two of them could escape to Alsafi, they’d be safe!
He hurried past the fire, which was obviously fake, just a great heap of flaming logs that gave off flames and sound but no heat. He could see the throne Rigel had mentioned—just a giant-sized timber chair, nowhere near as impressive as Mom’s throne. A warrior to his right was the same sort of healthy color as the buxom maidens. Of course he was, because he was still alive. He was Almaak, one of the Family. He was wearing a wig and a fake helmet disguise that made his starfolk ears look like birds’ wings attached to the helmet.
Almaak was vicious, one of the worst. A sudden spasm of terror almost made Izar upchuck like the hero at the door. Almaak was leering at another orgy in progress and didn’t seem to have seen him. Izar put his head down and ran like a hare, weaving in and out through the crowd, feet going crunch, crunch on the gravel. Members of the Family were already here! No wonder Saiph had been screaming warnings to Rigel.
