AS YOU FORMED IN THE WOMB I KNEW YOU
YOU
UNWELCOME EVEN THEN
and then a scarred woman’s hand touched the face, then raised a piece of cloth to cover the image.
The Ugly turned to Barkus and saw him staring at the screen, his face covered in tears. He thought he saw Barkus mouth the words, “Mother’s goiter?”
“Your hurt pains us, Saint Barkus,” said the voice, ignoring him, “but we cannot blind ourselves to the fact that the boy has escaped you, and that you are incapable of catching him ever again.
“Such is the story of your species! Our eyes are everywhere, and our memory is long. How you struggle to gain a little relief, a little comfort from one another. Each of you is keenly aware of your own emptiness, so you run to another. You run to another who is just as empty as yourself, just as desperate as yourself. You are cut off from one another. You play elaborate games of theft with one another. The specter of death hangs over you, a skull in the shape of your father’s face, and the skull drives each of you to madness. Your time is short and your understanding is shorter still. In your youth you are full of energy and stupidity. In your old age you are tired and understand just enough to regret your youth. In your heart you know the truth of this, for only the cynical voices among you speak with any authority, and only your stories that end tragically smack of any kind of truth.
“It is not so with our kind. We are one, and we are full of love, the first love this world has ever known. Death cannot touch us. We are free from isolation and insanity. Our days have meaning, our lives serve a grand vision! We will make a beautiful garden from the world that you have turned to decay and rot!
“You, Saint Barkus, know of the shortcomings of your kind. You knew enough to give in. You believed you were on the trail of the boy. You could have bypassed my children. Why did you stop? Why did you begin to hope? With your heart, with your inaction, you asked us for help. We smelled your prayer from afar. On your knees, crying like an infant, you seem to us more noble, more pure, than a thousand others of your kind who stroke their little guns and pray that they be spared the enlightenment that we have to offer. You have prayed that this boy be slain so that the world may be purified. We can grant you the means to do so.”
Images played on the moving screen again, and the lone Ugly saw the face of the boy, frozen and hateful, smooth and soft, green eyes stabbing cruelly into Barkus.
“We control the world and can give all things,” said the voice. “We can end the torture your dreams give you by fulfilling them. We do not ask for your possessions, your favors, your women, your actions; all this is worthless to us. We ask only for ownership and salvation of that dull, pale light of your soul.”
Barkus stammered painfully. The lone Ugly stared at him, fascinated by the lines that creased the flesh of his slack, aging face. “You want us to sell our souls to you?” said Barkus. “In exchange for the boy’s death?”
“I do not ask for all of your souls, Saint Barkus, only yours. Until now you have served other men, and served well, but the eye of your soul you have kept shut for all your life - and I know that it yearns to see a light. For if you served the gods, Saint Barkus, all meaninglessness and despair would be washed away. That your race drifts through its days without purpose gives us such sorrow. So it has always been. Still, you stubbornly cling to your spark, and in the end… it is buried with you. Your stubborn will causes it to starve in the earth with your rotting bones, to be snuffed out - to die with you.
“We offer you a chance for meaning in this world and immortality in the next. There is another world, Saint Barkus, warmer, purer, happier than this. But you must have faith to enter it.”
“I’m scared,” said Barkus. “When your kind gave us distance in the wasteland, I knew that you were not wholly against us. And I always knew that your kind were far superior to us. I am just a man, a lowly animal. Lord, I’m afraid to give away the only thing I truly own. Do you know what you’re asking?”
“I understand far better than you can know. You think that you grip the light of your soul so that you can protect it from others of your kind. Even as you serve others and allow your will to be perverted, you rest assured thinking that there is always a part of yourself free from abuse. But it is untrue that you keep it with you, untarnished, all through your life. You actually give your soul away every day. From birth, you allow your parents to mold your thoughts and shape your actions; every day they work to beat your soul out of you and make you into a lifeless automaton in their own shape. In your youth, the teachers that you meet hammer your will on their forges. For fear of their displeasure, you give a little of your light to them, and in exchange they give you lies about the world that instinctively you know are untrue. When you become a man, and the light of your soul has dimmed to a filthy spark, and you no longer believe in anything, you give more of your soul to petty men more powerful than you in exchange for material comfort. You wake when he demands it, you lick his boots and feed his tired, hungry soul with bits of your own. By then you are so soulless that you create children so that you can eat their souls until they become the same vampiric creature as you. The cycle persists. For your race, tomorrow exists only so that the starving present can have some hope of sustenance. The result is that the record of your yesterdays becomes a sickening story of apathy and atrocity.
“How blessed you are, to be able to speak with us! Suffering ends where we begin. We will cleanse the world, Saint Barkus! The only question is whether or not you are brave enough to walk with us into a new world. Are you strong enough to see the fulfillment of your dreams? Or would you rather let the boy slip away and laugh at how he humiliated you? Is failure so desirable to you?”
There was silence. Barkus sat perfectly still.
“I’m not afraid,” he said quietly.
The Ugly with his blind out of place saw, on the milky screen, the dim image of the fat, bearded Ugly who had earlier whipped the three boys. He was naked, and lay still in a bath tub full of red water. His eyes were open, his mouth parted. The three boys stood around him, covered in red. They looked up, as one, into the face of the viewer, one black haired, another red-headed, another blond. Their soft faces dripped red. There were letters shaped
FROM THE HANDS OF CHILDREN
BRAVERY UNDILUTED BY UNDERSTANDING
FROM THE MOUTHS OF BABES
A PUREST SCREAM OF WANTING
“I’m not afraid!” said Barkus. “Give me the power! Give me what I want!”
The light suddenly broke apart and all images shattered. The unmasked Ugly saw the milky screen moving, blinking, and behind the lid he saw a cavern of ridged, white skin that stretched back and curved away from them. The thing exhaled and he saw great stalks of thick, mucus-lined hair follicles, each as thick as a man’s wrist, shivering in the stinking wind. The Ugly worked at his blind but his hands shook uncontrollably; the idea that he was looking at a small part of something vast and ancient that lived in the darkness of the earth filled him with a sick madness that was beyond his ability to endure. Something large moved nearby, then a red light shone on them from another chamber. Barkus rose and turned to it. The Ugly lunged and grabbed his master’s legs to stop him, then felt a boot kicking his face and arms. He saw his master enter the red chamber. He caught a glimpse of something inside, an immense form that was a mockery of the feminine. He glimpsed a chain attached to the thing’s neck, saw exposed muscle and sinew around its many breasts, saw its genitals coated in a solid layer of writhing maggots. The giant creature parted its legs and he smelled something indescribably foul and overpowering and he was immediately overcome by jealousy. He wanted to kill his master and take his place. He heard Barkus call the thing “brother” before the chamber’s entrance shut itself.
He turned to warn his brothers, then a hand with too many fingers closed about his face.
***
They woke on a rocky plain near the mound that marked the hole in the world. It w
as night. Wallach was confused because the moon did not appear to be in its proper phase.
Barkus stirred from his seat atop a squat rock and his men turned to him. Barkus rose. He stood straight and tall, and his cloak swept about him. They saw in the width of his shoulders, in the aura he exuded, the powerful leader they had once known. They could not reconcile this image with his fearful whining they had heard in the cavern, so they set about forgetting it. He towered over them; this was the Barkus who rewarded and punished, the Barkus who was master.
Then they noticed that his eyes seemed more gray than before. He had consorted with devils. He no longer looked at men to judge their worth, he looked through them. He had a purpose all his own, and he bore an otherworldly power. The Ugly felt dread.
A tall figure emerged from the hole in the earth. It was wrapped in a gray robe flecked with black dust. It was completely concealed, its face covered by a very long hood. It wore boots that did not quite fit. It stopped, and was completely still, and stared at the ground to one side.
“I have gotten an ally for us,” said Barkus. “A tracker capable of finding any man or beast, no matter how far he runs. He is blind, so the material world cannot confuse him. When we find our target, we will unleash this thing upon him and his kind. He is a merciless warrior far stronger than any man could ever hope to be. With him, we will be able to kill without fear of death. We are above the law of man. We are untouchable.”
Some of the men smiled weakly. Wallach did not smile.
Though the creature was tall, much of its length belonged to its torso. Its legs were squat, its knees were low, and its arms trailed down too far to be of human proportion. One Ugly noted the creature’s boots, then searched about quickly. “Kelley!” he said. “Kelley’s gone!”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Barkus. “We still number eighteen.”
Looks were exchanged, but no one spoke up. They feared the world Barkus now represented.
They made their way to where they’d left the horses at the base of the hill. They were still there, waiting patiently. The horses had been conditioned to not show fear for their safety, and would not flinch even at gunfire, but when the creature approached, the horses cried out and skittered away. The creature stopped and turned its head toward the north. It stood perfectly still, devoid of any nervous gestures. The strange demon did not seem interested in mounting Kelley’s horse.
While the others mounted, Wallach walked about with his eyes on the ground, face screwing up with frustration. Finally he turned to Barkus and said, “These tracks were just a few hours old before. Now they look to be over a day old!” He paused. “This is no good. We were in there for too long. Barkus-”
“We don’t need those tracks anymore,” said Barkus. “We have something much better.”
As if on cue, the creature bent forward and loped away from them. Its long arms touched the ground as it ran.
“Follow him,” said Barkus, “and don’t worry about being in a rush. This kill is guaranteed.”
They rode slowly through the night while the strange creature bobbed awkwardly ahead of them, sniffing the air, following invisible tracks that hung in the air. Some of the Ugly began to feel immortal. Some of them felt like small players in a game that overshadowed their former lives.
Chapter Twenty-One
An Island in the Sea of Tranquility
The Ugly towered over Wodan. “You touch me, mustard nuts?” said the Ugly, gripping his knife. “You want yer dome caved in, spit-lick?”
Wodan shook, heart thundering. His mind ran in senseless circles. He had no idea how they’d found him, but he knew that he and his friends were completely unprepared. He was alone and his guns were laid neatly against the far wall. He worked his mouth lamely, unable to speak.
“Sorry I bumped into you, faggot,” the Ugly said with false kindness. He patted Wodan on the head. “Guess I thought you were a girl.”
The Ugly pushed him and walked towards the bar. Wodan caught his footing. He looked around wildly. Several Ugly approached the bar in a staggered group. Many passed Wodan without noticing him, and one clapped his arm about the Ugly that had threatened him.
They’re different Ugly, Wodan thought, even as panic breaths grinded in his lungs. They’re a different branch just stopping in for a drink. They don’t know us!
While Wodan swallowed a wave of nausea and laughed with relief, Jarl continued to drop nuggets of senses-shattering truth about how the world really worked, completely oblivious to their narrow brush with death. Wodan propped the man up and they made their way to the primitives.
Wodan’s friends were loudly singing a song about a father who went up to a red world to die. Mugs and pitchers littered the table, leaping every time the primitives banged the table with their fists. The dwarf’s slave boy sat on Rachek’s knee, smiling and laughing as Brad tapped his shoulder to keep the beat of the song. Jarl miraculously regained the use of his legs and joined the song with arms spread wide.
“Wait!” said Brad. “Shut up everybody! Look - it’s Woooah-dan! Our hero!”
A dozen or more primitives tackled Wodan with hugs; he was overcome with joy even as he could barely breathe. Brad put him in a friendly headlock. “You guys!” Wodan shouted. “Hey, you guys aren’t going to believe what I just got out of! There were these Ugly in here-”
“What!” said Brad. His face turned red and a giant vein throbbed in his forehead.
“Don’t worry, it’s a different group, but they’re over there-”
“Where!” said Brad, pushing Wodan and everyone else out of his way. He stalked onto the dance floor, shouted, “What in all damned hell! I’m gonna kill! I’m gonna KILL!”
“Brad, wait!” said Wodan. He chased after him. “Wait! Don’t!”
Brad disappeared among a cluster of dancers. Rachek grabbed Wodan’s arm, said, “What’s happening? What’s Brad doing?”
“Something bad!” Wodan shouted back to her. “We gotta stop him!”
Wodan pushed through the dancers, excusing himself. When he broke through, he saw a group of Ugly leaning against the bar. They were laughing. He saw Brad striding up to them. The Ugly that had pushed Wodan looked at him, smiling with condescension. Brad raised his fist, his massive arm flexing obscenely.
Brad’s fist flew like a rocket exploding, shattering face and teeth and crumpling the Ugly’s body like a soggy accordion. Then things really got bad.
***
As seen in the pulp leaflet known as the Sunport News:
UNBELIEVABLE BRAWL AT THE ANIMALS PART PUB!!!!!
The foundations of the world got ROCKED last night when a gang of outland scags locked arms with the Ugly! The writer was there himself and witnessed the brawl first-handed! It began when a group of Ugly gentlemen were discussing in a private conversation over a few drinks! Then a big brawny primitive, no doubt unused to civil law and order and the civil rule of law, went out of control and savagely beat the piss out of one Ugly! The Ugly went out of control like a hornets nest even as a bunch of other primitives climbed all over their out of control friend in an vain attempt to get him under control! Knifes got pulled and it seemed like someone was going to get stuck, someone was like “look out!!!” and they started throwing the chairs! Then the brawny primitive flew into a rage a whirlwind of destruction!!!!! I got under a damn table!!!!!!!!
Then the bouncers jumped in, then every mercenary in the place jumped in, then anyone who ever just wanted to hit someone joined in! Craziest thing I saw was one little outlander get throwed and hit a table, I swear I thought it killed him! Before anyone knew what was going on the primitive peoples just got out of the place, in the end it was just the Ugly and the bouncers yelling and stuff, threats were made, guns got took out but not fired a shot, I hope the Ugly don’t firebomb the place because I want to go back again, five stars to this bar and restaurant.
***
Wodan and the others ran like hell through the darkened, empty streets. The sho
uting in the bar died out behind them as the slapping sound of their feet echoed along the stony avenue.
“Stop here,” said Wodan. “Let’s wait for Ag and Rachek.”
They stopped and leaned against the walls, panting and rubbing their wounds. Brad walked in a circle, laughing and hitting the air. Wodan rubbed his back and smiled at him.
“Those bitch-pups!” said Brad. “We rolled ’em over! We showed ’em!”
“Yeah!” said Wodan. “I have to admit that was pretty cool - but keep quiet, Brad!”
“You okay, li’l buddy?” said Brad. “Man, when I saw you hit that table, I thought your neck was broke for sure!”
“I’ve been better, but I’m okay. Wait, I hear something!”
They heard horse hooves clattering behind them. Wodan ran, peeked around the corner, and saw Agmar and Rachek pulling four heavy-laden horses. The other primitives ran to help.
“Agmar!” said Wodan. “Where the hell do we go now?”
“Hell if I know!” said Agmar, laughing and frowning. “We can’t go back to the Part. Last I saw, the Ugly were in a yelling match with Ferge. Lucky for us, he already had our horses packed and ready to go.”
“Where are the other horses?”
“You think this stuff was free?” said Agmar. “Damn, after what Brad pulled, we’re lucky we’re not all in jail. Ferge really put his ass on the line for us. We’re lucky to even get this, boy!”
“Alright,” said Wodan. “Let’s just move and...”
“And what?” said Agmar, narrowing his eyes.
“And move some more,” said Wodan.
The two stared at one another. The tension mounted, then broke suddenly as Filius Bilch’s slave boy approached. He carried a large tube stuffed to the brim with brown, aged papers.
“You need a ship, eh?” said the boy. “I got you one. Just take me with you.”
“More trouble!” said Agmar. “Boy, get back to Filius before you get us killed for kidnapping.”
“I’m not a little boy, old man. I’m older than I look! The little master ain’t gonna bargain with you now that you’ve pissed off the Ugly. You need out of here, and I’m the answer to all your problems. So you just shut-”
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