by Ryk E. Spoor
I took a step sideways into the forest and moved forward as quietly as I could; it looked to me like this was an interrogation, and I wanted to get some idea of what was going on before I busted in. As I got closer, I could make out what was being said, beginning with the grinding-gravel tones of the first creature:
“…ast time, mortal rat, where is it?”
I could see the man more clearly now; as you’d expect from a man living in the woods without near neighbors, he was strong-looking, weathered, the sort who would probably face down a wolf without a second thought; the futility of his struggles against the indigo-skinned hand gripping his throat showed just how strong the monster was. Supporting his weight partially by gripping the thing’s wrist, he managed to choke out an answer. “If… I tell… you let my family go…”
“I might think about letting them go.” The deep chuckle from the other made me — and from his pale face, the poor woodsman — suspect that there wouldn’t be much sincerity in the thinking.
Time to get to work. “Oooh, good. Then I might think about letting you go, too.” I said, stepping out from the forest.
The things whirled, the one tossing away the woodsman like a rag doll, and snarled.
I froze for a moment, unable to move or answer. All my training had been against human or very humanlike people. These things were nothing of the sort. Indigo-grey skin, like some sort of shadowed basalt, covered their bodies. The eyes glittered yellow crystal in the sun above wide mouths that had the jagged-fang look of a rock crusher combined with a steam shovel, but the mobility of flesh in the cruel curve of their smiles as they saw me go white; they wore grey-white stone armor and carried thick bronze axes, while their hands and feet sported sharp black claws.
Gut-deep fear shot in a chill through me, and for an instant I felt myself starting to take a step back. I’d seen thousands of monsters on TV and movie screens, but that’s nothing at all like seeing them in the flesh, any more than watching a dozen shark specials on television compares to the first time you meet one in the surf, all white teeth and grey sandpaper skin and black, dead eyes, as I had once as a child.
The leader laughed. “Oh, loud of mouth but not so brave when facing the opponent, are we? Too bad for you, worm. This is Oz business.”
Oz business? The part of my brain that never stops thinking grabbed that, shoved it forward, and dumped a bucketload of shame over me. You want to save Oz, hero, and you’re too scared to face a couple of Ugu’s bullies a thousand miles from his stronghold? Run back to your little house now, then; let Poly see just what a loser she’s picked.
I swallowed, but got my limbs back under control. “This isn’t Oz, monster. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back right now.”
The creature — which I now guessed was a Temblor, one of the twisted Earth spirits under Ugu and Amanita’s control — sneered. “From one human shaking in his boots with a sword too big for him to swing?”
The other moved forward slowly, swinging its axe lazily. “Should I kill it, Morg?”
Morg nodded. “Why not, Gron? Might finish convincing these others to talk. Make it messy.”
Gron grinned widely, showing interlocking teeth like razor-sharp crystals, and lunged forward.
I’d had enough time to get a grip and prepare. Gron moved fast, but Earth spirits weren’t anything like the Faeries of the air that inhabited the Rainbow Kingdom. The massive Temblor was actually no faster than me, not even as quick as Iris Mirabilis, and I first leapt aside as he charged, letting Gron thunder past.
He recovered and spun to face me. “Duck and run all you like, little man, you will tire, and I will not. Better to die with courage. Draw your blade.”
Time to learn if what works in training works in the real world. I straightened, and gave my own sneer in return. “And get it dirty? Come on, then.”
Gron gave a snort of disbelief mixed with amusement. “So be it.” He raised the axe and charged.
Bracing myself for an agonizing impact, I gritted my teeth, stepped forward just inside of the axe, and swung my fist with every ounce of force I could muster.
Stone armor, rocky skin, and mineral bone broke, split, and shattered at the impact, that felt to me no more than a hard punch into a sandbag. Gron flew backwards at a terrible speed, struck a tree, broke it off like a twig, continued on through two more before smashing into the mountainside with a sound like doom.
I stared in awe and felt a hell-bent grin spreading across my face as I turned towards Morg, who was staring in utter disbelief. “Your turn.”
Morg brought up his axe, but I could see there was no smile on his face now. “Wh… whatever trick this is, you are still a fool! Do you not know that this will bring Mombi’s vengeance upon you? And if that does not suffice, then the power of the King and Queen itself?”
Now I moved forward, and he was the one starting to back away. “Mombi, eh? I thought she’d be one of the ones they’d choose as a viceroy. Of course I know that. If, of course, you get your chance to report home.”
He was backing away in earnest now. “No! You mortal idiot! Whatever magic you’re using, it cannot equal theirs! Don’t you realize this?” As I closed in, he swung. Not without a chill of fear that it would end with my hand being chopped off, I reached out to catch the blade.
It was like catching a styrofoam prop; the thing stopped with barely a jolt and I could see the blade crumple a little on impact. “Here’s a surprise for you, Morg.” I ripped the weapon out of his hand and broke it, then caught him and held him up by the throat, just the way he’d been holding the poor woodsman. I brought his face close to mine and whispered, “I’m not using any magic.”
Then I threw him as hard as I could. That might have been something of a mistake, because he flew over the nearer ridge; I never saw him hit the ground, and given how he was basically made of stone, he might well survive. But…I really didn’t want to kill anyone, now that I thought of it. At least some of these twisted elementals were Winkies and other natives of Oz, warped by enchantment. I couldn’t go around killing randomly. I would’ve pulled my first punch, if I’d thought about it and been sure I had the power to spare.
Now I knew. My True Mortal abilities were even more formidable than I’d thought, at least against the foot soldiers.
But enough of that. I turned to the woodsman and his family, who were staring with eyes so wide I thought they might pop out of their sockets. “Are you all right?”
After a speechless moment, the father recovered. “Y… yes, sir. You… you have rescued us before they could truly harm any of my family.”
“What were they after?”
The woodsman grimaced, rubbing his throat. “Stoneseeds. Grow just at the border between the Nome King’s lands and Gilgad and a few other lands. Dark magic has many uses for them.”
“And you know where to find them? Or you gather them yourself?”
“Both, milord.” He straightened and bowed proudly. “Amrin Stoneseed am I, and such has been my family’s name for generations.”
“Then I’d guess there are not-dark uses for the stoneseeds?”
“Oh, many. A stoneseed picked at full ripeness may be grown into many things — stone walls, stone houses even — under the right conditions by a skilled wizard. Unlike those growing on this border, such a seed will produce only sterile stone, not stoneflowers and new seeds, so there is always a need for new stoneseed crops.”
That made sense in the usual Faerie context. And undoubtedly, since such things couldn’t grow except on the borders of the Nome King’s territories, it was worth it to Oz to send out collection agents. “Well, I’m glad I was able to help. I hope it will not cause you worse trouble later, though.”
Amrin looked glum. “They will try again sometime, I am sure.”
“Well,” I said with a grin, “if they’ll hold off for a bit, they just might never get a chance.”
He looked up sharply. “Do you mean…?”
“I
mean that all is not lost. Can I ask your help?”
He looked at me, eyes showing a flicker of hope. “After what you have done, of course.”
“Tell me how I can reach Gilgad, the city.”
Amrin looked at his wife and children. “I will do more than that. I will take you there.”
Erik Medon
Chapter 22.
“And so I will be sending several Hands of Temblors, perhaps even of Infernos, to teach a lesson to –”
“SILENCE!” roared the King.
Mombi stared at Ugu in confusion. “Y… Your Majesty?”
He pointed his finger down at her and muttered two ancient words. The old witch, dressed in finery terribly unbecoming to her, suddenly hopped as though standing on red-hot coals. “Ow! Aaaaah, have mercy, Majesty, mercy on an old woman who does not understand!”
He withdrew his hand, and Mombi stopped, shivering with fear. “Then I will explain. Perhaps you are fortunate that the Queen is busy with her own work, for if she were of my current state of mind, I doubt not that you would be leaving here in a different form than that which you now wear.” He leaned slowly back in the Throne and glowered down at the Witch and the battered form of Morg. “We are currently at peace with the other Faerie realms. This has been long arranged. Apparently, you have interpreted the word peace in a fashion I find quite enlightening; it means that we simply don’t let anyone talk about the little invasions we’re carrying out, is that it?”
Mombi looked up, fear mingled with defiance. “We all have done this. What makes my actions so terrible, Majesty?”
Idiots. I am completely surrounded by idiots, except for my Queen who is planning to kill me and my General, who may be my best chance. Ugu stood up, causing all around the room to step back a pace. “Make no mistake, Mombi; I have been busy with affairs of policy deep enough that perhaps I have been remiss in watching the actions of my Viceroys. That is ended as of this moment. I assure you, the same message will be conveyed to all the others.
“We have kept here to our borders. We have assured them we mean them no harm so long as they do nothing against us. We all know, of course, that one day we will change that truth to another, but that change will happen when I say, when the Queen says, and not one second sooner! By these raids you give them reason to remain afraid, reason to be prepared, reason, in short, to ready themselves for war. To seek ever and ever for ways to destroy us, to harry us, to weaken us.”
Mombi nodded slowly. “I… I suppose. But there is much that they have which is not to be found in Oz, and –”
“—and we shall trade for it, fairly trade for it, do you understand? Until the time comes that my armies and my spells and the Queen’s are readied and all is decided, until that time we shall be the very model of good neighbors.” He bent lower. “And if you or your compatriots do not understand this,” he hissed, “you shall be once more stripped of your powers and sent to be washerwoman to the Nome King’s armies, Lady Coo-Ee-Oh shall be again a brainless swan,” his voice rose higher, to a thunder that echoed throughout the Throne Room, “I’ll fry that plotting Dictator of the Flatheads to ash along with his entire miserable court of sycophants, and I shall level such a curse of shrinking on Blinkara of Jinxland that not even all the microscopes of the mortal world could find her with a thousand years to search!”
By the end of the speech, Mombi was cowering on the floor along with the Temblor Morg, begging for mercy. He stared down in distaste. We chose people who had no reason to care for the way Oz was, but of course they had little reason to care for anything at all. If we learn nothing on how to rule carefully, we shall soon have nothing at all to rule. “Get up.”
The old witch scrambled to her feet, bowing all the while.
“Enough. Now, Morg. Tell me exactly what happened. Not the account Mombi gave. I want your words, your memories, exactly as it occurred.”
He listened carefully, nodding. Finally, when Morg was finished, he sat back down and gestured, muttering a few more ancient words; Morg looked down at himself in amazement, his injuries now entirely gone. “Well enough done. In this case — and I say, in this case only — it was well you were there. This information is of use to me. So I shall let the issue of your abuse of power drop. For now. Remember you well my words, Mombi. Now leave us.”
Once she had left, he looked back; from his concealed area behind the thrones, Cirrus emerged. “You heard, General?”
“Indeed. So he was landed at the border of the Nome King’s lands.”
“Yes.” Ugu frowned. “Certainly a wise choice if one seeks allies of any credibility. Yet King Kaliko has also been wise, and seeks no war with us; he balances his natural dislike and fear with caution and policy. Unless this Mortal has something quite extraordinary to offer, I doubt he will get much from the Nomes.”
Cirrus nodded. “But there are few other choices, as I can see them. Aside from the darker spirits which our Lady the Queen bound, the Nomes were the only Faeries who maintained a great army at all.”
“Assume he can gain some trust. What then?”
The former officer of the Rainbow Kingdom wrinkled his brow, trying to take into account all of the factors he knew. “Well, certainly the Nomes have a vast army. None of their warriors individually can match ours, of course. Yet… they must find a way into Oz. The barrier you have arranged is proof above the ground and below, so the prior tactic of digging a tunnel is no longer an option.” His head came up. “There is one way…”
Ugu was startled. “There is? I would have staked my life that no way through that barrier exists for any Faerie or of Faerie born — and while a True Mortal may pass, he does not eliminate the barrier and his allies would remain behind.”
“All true, your Majesty,” Cirrus agreed. “Yet any of us may pass through unstopped, and allow others to return under certain circumstances.”
“Ahh…” Ugu said softly. “What if they have a traitor within our own ranks? Is that your meaning?”
“It is, Sire.”
Ugu thought on that possibility. The ordinary warriors of course could not do that trick. Equally obviously, any of the Viceroys or their immediate entourage could. Yet he and Amanita had quite carefully picked those people for their inability to tolerate the earlier regime, and — quite deliberately — inability to work well with others except out of fear. There were of course drawbacks to this, but…
“I find myself drawn to a single rather inescapable conclusion on that subject, General,” he said finally. “None of our Viceroys or their people are at all likely to be traitors. Not that they love our royal persons so much, you understand,” he smiled grimly, “but they fear us greatly, and none outside of Oz would trust any of them. They would see a trap in any offer of assistance.”
“But in that case, Sire…”
“… in that case, General Cirrus, there would be only one person who could possibly let in an enemy army, and who might be trusted enough to do so. You.”
Cirrus looked thoughtful. “I do see your point, Majesty. Yet I brought up the point itself, which you had not thought of at all. Meaning no disrespect, Sire.”
“I take none. Yet one with sufficient subtlety to conceal his presence for three centuries in an enemy stronghold might count on the subtle misdirection involved in revealing the weakness to make himself appear innocent.”
“Do you truly suspect me, Sire?”
Ugu looked at him wordlessly for some moments, considering. “In all honesty? No, not at all, Cirrus. Had you wished to betray us, it would have been better for you to do so before you came here, or do it immediately, rather than bringing to us the Prophecy and so much other information as you have given us. You have done marvels in preparing our forces.
“But because of this, I conclude that they are very unlikely to have any traitor of high standing here, and without that, they cannot breach the barrier directly.”
“And yet they shall, if the Prophecy is to be believed at all.”
Ugu
chuckled. “Oh, now, that is a different matter of policy, my friend. It is quite possible that they will enter without any need whatsoever of treacherous assistance. After all…if I believe they will be easier to defeat here, I can let them in, can I not?”
Cirrus nodded slowly. “Indeed you can, Sire.”
“What of Gilgad? Can you see anything he could gain from there?”
“Not really, Sire. The country does border on the Nonestic Ocean…” A thought seemed to occur to him, and for a few moments he stood silently before he shook his head. “…but no. Yes, the Sea Faeries have considerable forces of their own, but they will hardly be very effective on land, even if a single Mortal could manage to convince them to ally in force with him. Note that we are aware that Iris Mirabilis did seek to build a grand alliance early on, and failed, and — despite the minor depredations of Mombi and her ilk — our keeping our word to stay out of other countries’ business has convinced many of them that their best course of action is to stay out of ours.”
“Then send a few spies to watch the Nome King’s lands. He may try a different route, now that he has encountered some of our people.”
“It is already being attended to, Highness.”
“Excellent, Cirrus.” He nodded, giving leave for his General to go.
Everything seemed to be progressing well. He glanced in the direction of Amanita’s throne. And that, too, will be dealt with. Once he is here.
Chapter 23.
The gates of the city of Gilgad stood wide before us, a full fifty feet high in a wall of white and black marble. The wide street continued on, with houses and larger buildings visible, street vendors, and hundreds of people bustling about on the city’s business. “You should be safe here, Amrin. At least as long as anyone is, and I hope that will turn out to be a long, long time.” I shook his hand.
“Many, many thanks, Lord Erik,” Amrin said, and his family — Ralla, his wife, and Amril and Rallin, their son and daughter — added their own thanks with an enthusiasm which I found to be acutely embarrassing. After all, I’d just happened to be in the right place in the right time, and I was getting an awful lot out of them from that happy accident. I could have spent a long time wandering around before finding my way to the port city, and by walking with Amrin and his family I’d gotten a clear and detailed picture of the situation in Gilgad and surrounding areas.
