by Jack Conner
“I assumed they’d use the humans as food or play—or, possibly, incorporate them into a piece of art of some kind. Stationary art. But this? What they’ve made is part Frankenstein and part Salvador Dali painting. I know from the number of slaves they bought that they probably built more than one of those things. Or at least a variant.”
Sarnova scowled. After some thought, he said, “You really think all they want is the maze? There’s no ulterior motive?”
Ruegger smoked his cigarette for a minute in silence. All about him, snow fell in a light flurry, settling onto the armor of the knights.
“I don’t know, Roche,” he said. “From what I’ve been told, they have an alliance with Kiernevar. So now they’re allied with a potential successor to the throne and are at this very moment trying to take over the secret entrance to the castle.”
Sarnova nodded. “It’s a power play.”
“I don’t know what they’re doing, but they have an agenda. Count on it.” Ruegger shifted in his saddle. “There’s something we’re overlooking.”
“Go on.”
“They must have sensed us in that horse’s mind, or at least known that you were the one that sent it in there—which means that they’re not trying to keep what they’re doing a secret. They didn’t have to send that thing after the horse. They wanted you to know.”
For a long time, Roche Sarnova sat astride his big black horse, staring into the tunnel, and Ruegger did not interrupt him. After a few minutes, the Darkling flung his cigarette butt to the snow-covered ground, and the movement seemed to snap the king out of his trance.
“Do you now believe in the Sabo?” Roche Sarnova said.
“Is it magical?”
“I don’t know, not really. Basically, it’s a psychic vampire. It feeds on terror, can’t grow strong without causing fear. When it’s strong, it can manifest itself in a number of ways when it wants to communicate with you on a person-to-person basis.”
“You have a psychic connection with it?”
“Let’s just say that if I need to talk to it, I can. Usually our psychic connection is just a means by which to set up a meeting.”
“Are these meetings regular events?”
“No, but sometimes it just needs a little company, which I don’t mind. I find it to be an interesting being on many levels.”
Ruegger realized that was supposed to be a joke. On many levels. Smiling a little, he said, “How do you meet it?”
“For starters, I must come alone. Although sometimes it doesn’t mind if I bring a guest. It’s a moody bastard.”
“I want to meet it.”
“Out of the question. Especially now. Don’t you get it? There’s a war going on in there. The Balaklava are trying to take it over. Anyway, we’re not going in there tonight. Not even to fight them. The Sabo is strong. Maybe it will do the work for us. They may have bitten off more than they can chew.”
“You hope.”
“Will you agree to call off Maleasoel’s attack? You can see that she’d only be heading into a trap, whether it be that of the Sabo or the Balaklava.”
“Why do you care so much if the Libertarians get lost in the Sabo and eaten by parasites, or rot in those cages? Or, for that matter, get killed by the Balaklava’s new toy? Last I heard, they were your enemies.”
“They were. They are. But if I could only speak to Ludwig’s widow, I could convince her of my innocence.”
Ruegger remembered Gavin’s death. “She’s not easily convinced.”
“She would believe the truth, wouldn’t she?”
“She might. You’ll have to ask her.”
“If she was convinced of my innocence, maybe I could persuade her to join me in my fight against Subaire and the other traitors.”
Ruegger saw a man that needed help badly. Needed an ally. But if that’s what he expected of Maleasoel, he was sadly mistaken, Ruegger thought. Still, something about the nakedness of the king’s eyes made Ruegger feel for him.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll call off the attack.”
* * *
It wasn’t hard to do. Sarnova had planned ahead for this event, had brought along several wooden boards and posts to nail them to. On one of these boards, Ruegger wrote, “It’s a trap, Malie” with a black marker and then scrawled a big L underneath the message.
Around the L, he drew a circle. This was to authenticate the message. He nailed the board to a post and planted the post just inside the tunnel so that once Malie moved the boulder she would see the sign and lead her troops away. At least, so Ruegger hoped.
Once the task was accomplished, Sarnova moved the boulder back into its original position and turned to Ruegger. “Thank you. I know this isn’t how you’d planned it.”
“It’s better this way. The plan was foolish anyway. If you are Ludwig’s killer, torturing you won’t do much good, will it? You’d only say what you thought you wanted Malie to hear.”
“Is that what Lord Kharker did, when she had him?”
Ruegger didn’t know how to respond. After all, Kharker had done what he’d had to do at the time, which was save Ruegger and Jean-Pierre. Later, the Hunter had turned his mind to saving his other closest friend, Roche Sarnova. In doing so, he’d betrayed Ruegger, but Ruegger wouldn’t have been around to betray had Kharker acted differently when Malie had him at her mercy. Ruegger was all too aware of this, which is why he didn’t bare any grudge against Kharker.
“Kharker never lost his dignity,” Ruegger said. “Although, if he’d been willing to lose face to start with, he could’ve saved Gavin’s life.”
“He told me about that. You hold him responsible, not Maleasoel?”
“I hold them both responsible. What you have to understand about Malie is that she’s not in her right mind. She’s obsessed with avenging Ludwig’s death.”
“And you’re not?”
Ruegger would not be baited. “Can we get the hell out of here? The sun’s going to come up soon.”
“Let’s get a drink of water first.”
“Whiskey would be better.”
“If I had a lake of booze, you could have some, but I don’t. However, there’s a big pond just a little ways down the slope, and it’s got some of the freshest water you’ll ever taste.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You will be.”
Sarnova turned his horse and began leading his troops down the slope. With some reluctance, Ruegger followed. Why did they have to have water right now? Sarnova wanted to show him something, it must me.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” the king said.
Before them stretched a little valley, covered by snow and snow-laden trees, and in the center of it all was one of the biggest ponds Ruegger had ever seen. Roche was right, it was more like a little lake. Miraculously, it wasn’t frozen over, though the two streams that fed it were both covered by a layer of ice. What kept the pond from the same fate, hot springs? If that were true, perhaps on some subterranean level it was connected to the moat on the other side of the mountain. Or maybe it was magic. Whatever the case might be, Ruegger felt increasingly uncomfortable about the whole affair. He wanted to be in bed with Danielle.
Bemused, he accompanied Roche Sarnova down the hill to the rocky shore of the little lake, and the knights followed.
Sarnova stopped his horse and slid down, the clinking of his armor one of the only sounds that Ruegger could hear throughout the entire valley.
“Well?” the Dark Lord asked. “Are you coming down or not?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Come on, Ruegger. What’s to be afraid of?”
Ruegger joined Sarnova on the ground, while the knights remained silent and mounted. Rooting through a satchel on his bag, the king brought out two large mugs and handed one to Ruegger.
“What’s wrong?” asked the king.
“We shouldn’t be here.”
Sarnova patted him on the shoulder and offered an enigmatic smile that only served
to make Ruegger more tense, then knelt at the edge of the lake to fill up his mug. After a long sip, he beckoned Ruegger to do the same.
Once Ruegger had taken a swallow of the water, he relaxed a little.
“Damn good, isn’t it?” Sarnova said.
“Yeah,” Ruegger admitted. “It is.”
Leaning over, Sarnova examined his reflection in the still water and motioned for Ruegger to follow suit. There they were, two vampires looking back at each other beneath the fading starlight. One wore a knight’s armor with its visor raised so that all that could be seen was its olive-skinned face and big dark eyes that, once again, seemed slightly mischievous. The other shade reflected in the pool, with its gaunt eyes, unkempt dirty hair, unshaven face and many-zippered black leather jacket, seemed like it had been drug off the streets of New York just seconds before, and not one of the better streets.
“Aren’t we a pair?” said the king.
“What will happen to the Libertarians now?” Ruegger said suddenly. “They’ll tunnel until they get here so that you won’t be able to see them, then pop up, find my warning, and leave—at least, if things go according to plan. How do you expect to make contact with Malie?”
“Let me worry about that when the time comes. Meanwhile, forget about them because you’ve done all you can to ensure their safety. Now it’s Malie’s problem. And mine. Leave it at that.”
Ruegger stared into the eyes of Sarnova’s reflection. “Why did you bring me here? So that I could look at our reflections and have greater faith in the future of our partnership?”
“Partly. I just wanted to get away from the castle for awhile. I wanted to talk to you one-on-one to see if I’m making the right decision in choosing you to go up against Kiernevar.”
“You could’ve gotten Kharker to do it. He can play a mean game of chess, if you didn’t know that already.”
“True. I even talked to him about that, but he tells me that when you’re focused you’re a much better player than he is. Also, he wouldn’t have agreed to the terms. He has no reason to stake his life on the game, whereas you do.”
“I have the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“There is, of course.”
“What?”
“You’ll see for yourself. But ...well, Ruegger, I’ve got a question for you first.”
“Yes?”
“You know about my plan to win immortals our own country?”
“You know I do.”
“Well, what do you think? I ask you this because I respect your opinion. Also, because I would have you as my heir.”
Ruegger considered. “I’ll tell you the truth, Roche. I like the idea. In fact, I think it’s about time we stopped creeping around in the shadows, but I think you could have set your plan in motion with far less drama and risk. By announcing your plan to the Dark Council first and asking for their approval, I’m afraid you damned your vision to failure.”
“I don’t agree.”
The Dark Lord rose to his full height and shut the visor on his helmet.
As if on cue, the waters of the lake began to move. Waves smacked the shore, bursting and drenching Ruegger’s pants. He found the water surprisingly warm. Something big—enormous—was rising from the depths, and fast. Ruegger leapt back, wishing he had a suitable weapon, not simply guns. What the hell was going on?
The water in the center of the lake exploded. Some great beast leapt into the air, flapping massive reptilian wings.
For a moment, water vapor obscured the creature, but then its big leathery wings blew the mist away to reveal a being that Ruegger recognized instantly, despite the fact that he’d never actually seen one.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he said. “It’s a dragon.”
Chapter 20
And a dragon it was, mottled green, golden scales running the length of its underside and smoke shooting out of its nostrils and from between the teeth of its great mouth. Beating its great wings to dry itself off, it roared once—a big primal roar—then rose higher in the air.
From the other side of the lake, behind a little ridge, Jean-Pierre watched it, but his expression did not show the same surprise that Ruegger’s did. He had always suspected that such creatures existed—Kharker had often hinted that they did, even if he never gave a full accounting of where he gathered such knowledge.
What the creature was doing here, however, Jean-Pierre could only guess at. Of almost as much concern were the forty armored knights. Obviously, they were from the Castle, and the albino wasn’t sure whether he should approach them or not. His plan had been to enter through the Sabo, which knew him, and enter the Castle in secrecy. He did not fear Roche Sarnova, but he did fear the reaction of the king’s men. Might they think him a Libertarian spy and kill him, or toss him into the dungeons? Best to avoid them.
And the dragon. That was most certainly to be avoided as well.
Confused, cold, hungry and weary, Jean-Pierre couldn’t process all the information he saw before him. With a curse, he dropped below the ridge and out of sight.
* * *
Ruegger stared, uncomprehending. On some level, he could accept the existence of the Sabo because he knew that there were supernatural things in this world of which he had no knowledge. He had always been proud of the fact that his mind was open to new ideas—to new ways of thinking and being—but there was no way in hell he was prepared to accept the existence of dragons.
Yet there before him …
In that moment, all his years of skepticism eroded in one colossal landslide, leaving him breathless and disoriented. All thoughts emptied from his head to make room for one big fact:
Dragons existed. MAGIC existed.
He prepared for battle.
From behind his visor, as if reading Ruegger’s mind, Sarnova said, “Do you believe me now?”
Ruegger dropped his mug, unbuttoned three of the buttons on his shirt and, reaching both hands inside, withdrew two nine-millimeter Berettas. They were big pistols, but somehow he doubted that they’d be very effective against a dragon. Nevertheless, they were better than nothing.
As he watched, the green-scaled leviathan flew toward the far side of the lake, and for a moment Ruegger feared it would leave before he got a chance to observe it a little longer, but then the dragon angled along the curve of the shore. If it continued along the perimeter of the lake, it would arrive above Ruegger’s location in about a minute.
The Dark Lord, still as a glacier, stood planted on the rocky shore, a large sword gripped in both hands.
Behind his king, Colonel De Soto issued orders to his men. Several of the knights dismounted and dug equipment out of their satchels. As if they’d been preparing for this event, they started assembling various weapons, probably brought along in case of an attack by the Libertarians. There were RPGs, big machine guns, disposable missile launchers, shotguns ...
Ruegger squinted and took aim with both pistols. As of now, the dragon wasn’t much more than a dark blot against the stars, but even at a distance its sparkling green shone magnificently. The golden glare off its underside was just discernable. Part of the Darkling hoped that this creature would live up to its legend, that it was bloodthirsty and savage, but another part wanted a more peaceful confrontation—or better yet, no confrontation at all.
The creature was certainly beautiful to look at. Over the barrels of his weapons, Ruegger saw the sleek winged serpent follow the curvature of the lake until it was aimed straight at the party of immortals.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
Behind him, he heard De Soto ask Sarnova, “Well, my lord? Should we fire on it or not?”
“No,” said Sarnova. “Let’s see what it does first.”
The creature angled itself so that it bore directly down on the knights and their lord. When it was about a hundred feet away, it started breathing fire. Having no protection against flame, Ruegger leapt into the lake, firing his guns up at t
he dragon as he fell.
Enveloping the war party in an orange blaze, the blast left the monster’s mouth with such power that it knocked the knights off their mounts. For their part, the knights were protected by their armor, but their horses were not so lucky. By the time the cloud of flame had disappeared, half of the beasts lay smoldering on the ground. Mewling and crying out in pain, the rest of the animals ran about aimlessly, their bodies on fire even though their hearts still beat. The sound of their misery caused Ruegger to adjust the aim of his weapons. Within seconds, all the horses were dead, even Sarnova’s. Ruegger reloaded.
The dragon did not capitalize on the weakness of its prey; rather, it began circling the lake once more. As he watched it go, Ruegger climbed out of the water and shook himself off while the knights picked themselves up and began assessing the situation.
“Goddamn you,” De Soto said to his king. “We should have fired.”
The Dark Lord, his once-shiny armor now slightly charred, regarded his colonel for a moment. “Next time we will.”
During the respite, the knights, whose armor was now as blackened as their lord’s, gathered the surviving weapons and prepared them for the monster’s next pass. They didn’t have long to wait. When the dragon was two hundred feet away, five missiles struck out toward it. Although it was an easy shot, every single one went off course at the last second, swerving around the creature.
“Shit,” said De Soto. “It’s fucking telekinetic. Come on, men, goddamn you! Keep firing!”
Ruegger knew what was coming next, so he leapt back into the water—just in time. The dragon unleashed another barrage of flame, again knocking the knights to the ground. The fire actually cooked several of them inside their suits of armor, Ruegger saw when he stuck his head back up.
This time the dragon wasn’t going to simply pass over. It barreled down on the armored soldiers, who broke rank and started to scatter. The only one left was De Soto, tall and black in the middle of the carnage, issuing orders to the very end.
The dragon seized the colonel in its rear talons and wrenched him off the ground. As he receded into the night, his screams grew fainter and fainter.
