by Jack Conner
Danielle went on to explain how, once Roche’s shock had worn off, he agreed that it was a worthy strategy and had allowed himself to be turned.
“I could see by the look on Francois’ face that it was something the old kavasari had wanted to do for a long time,” Danielle said. “When he did it, he acted towards Roche like he hadn’t acted to the rest of us. He treated it almost as a holy union. It may sound strange, but watching them exchange bloods, renew their trust—it was very moving.
“Meanwhile, the rest of us were trying to teach ourselves how to use our new gifts so we’d be ready when it came time to meet the dragons. You know we can fly? Imagine!”
“I’m trying.” It sounded wonderful to him, and he asked what it had been like.
Serenity spread across her features. “Complete liberation. Of course, the place wasn’t ideally suited to learning how to do it. I tried a little, but the ceiling of the chamber was too low. Still, baby, it was like ... I can’t describe it. Butterflies in your stomach that never go away. And here’s another thing you’ll like: our pyrokinetic powers are magnified tenfold. That’s what got us into trouble.”
Again, she laughed and squeezed his hand. “We had the carpets and the drapes burning, and pretty much everything else, too. It was a mess, just sheer chaos, and then in comes Harry! With Roche and Francois doing their thing and the whole room blazing, I thought he’d faint on the spot. I think I would’ve. And Jean-Pierre kept flying back and forth across the room, bumping his head and breaking blades off the fan.”
Suddenly, her laughter stopped. “Then Harry told us about you.” She paused for a long time, reliving the awful moment, and went on. “I got Jean-Pierre to stop acting like a fool and together we went down into the Refuge to find the secret entrance. As I told you, I was pretty frantic at that point. Finally, Jean-Pierre and I went back up. Roche was turned and levitating in the air, cross-legged, like he was Buddha or something. And Francois levitating right there with him!
“Anyway, my plan was to use Jean-Pierre’s, Roche’s, and Francois’ knowledge of the Refuge to get to the dragons, but I told them I couldn’t go, that we hadn’t found the secret entrance. If we were going to get you out, we’d have to do the frontal assault on the Sabo, and Roche didn’t think Jean-Pierre was strong enough for that yet, and he didn’t even try to get me to reconsider.
“I think Roche really likes you. He told me he’d go with me himself and together we’d get you out. The others were to go find the dragons and see what could be done there, as far as controlling them or what have you. So Roche and I went down, fully prepared to give it all ... and there you were ...” She sniffed wetly, and he kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.
Finally, he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she said.
“Nothing. Just that I thought I was going to be the one with the master plan, and all along it was you!”
“Which brings up a point ...” She held his hand—he still only had one—and kissed him. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like you to become a kavasari, too.”
He’d known she would get to that sooner or later. “Alright,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I was just thinking I might make a good one, back up in the cage.” Gently, he brought her arm to his lips, but she pulled it away, just as gently.
“No,” she told him. “I’m not strong enough, not old enough. It should be Francois. He’s the one that ought to turn you.”
“I turned you, remember. It’s only fair that you turn me.”
“No. That’s your poet side talking. You need to be strong.”
“Okay. So we’re off to Mauchlery.”
Gently, she stroked his blood-caked face. “Not so fast, tough guy. I’ve told you my end of it, now you tell me yours ... if you want to.”
He wasn’t sure he did. Killing that little girl still haunted him, even though he knew it had been the best way out for both of them, him and the girl. Still, he felt reluctant, even scared, to tell Danielle that he had shed innocent blood. But he would have to. He would hold no secrets from her, not about something like that.
He started slowly, telling her about the mud-sharks and how the Balaklava had tried to herd him, even capture him. Then, when that didn’t work out, they just tried to maim him so badly that he wouldn’t make it to the Libertarians. He told her how he’d lost the arm, the eye, about the squidoids and the birds, and how the Sabo had saved him the first time.
Then he told her about Raulf D’Aguila, about what Raulf had told him before going into the Libertarians’ encampment, and Danielle nodded, storing the information away for later. The Captain had an interesting theory about the Collage, and he told her that, too. He told her about the Mistress Maleasoel, about how different she was than the Malie he’d known years ago. He told of her sycophants, her dancers and lackey bards, and finally how she’d sold Ruegger to the Balaklava in exchange for her nuclear weapons—most of them, anyway. He told her how they’d stolen one from her and given it to Byron. He related how Malie had conspired with them to overthrow Subaire, once the battle was won, and how Junger and Jagoda had sent out Loirot to meet with Subaire just a few hours later—presumably to alert the Council Member to Malie’s treachery.
He told her everything, and when it came to the part about the girl, he told it slowly, detail by detail. Danielle listened closely, and he could hear the pain in her replies. Finally, he explained how he’d killed the girl—not once, but twice, and dismembered and burned her body. After that, he paused, waiting for Danielle’s reaction. She had always been his conscience.
She remained quiet for only a short time before taking his face in both hands and staring into his one large black eye. “Ruegger ... baby.” There were tears in her eyes, and for a moment he allowed himself to be glad that she was strong enough to cry. “You did the right thing.”
“I killed an innocent. I haven’t done that, not by choice, in over fifty years.”
“You did what you had to do, and you did right by her. What was she going to become, another slave, another zombie? A little girl to pleasure those bastards when they weren’t torturing her for the hell of it? Damn it, Ruegger, you did the only thing you could, and I won’t have you say another word about it.”
She kissed him, passionately.
“Not all the choices we have to make are black and white, Rueg. You know that better than I. But your conscience won’t let you off the hook when you venture into a shade of gray. I know some of it’s my fault, because when you first brought me over I was appalled by most of the immortals we met, sickened, and my morals rubbed off on you.”
“I’m glad they did.”
“Yeah, but who am I to judge, me with my Malcolm and his gang? Jesus, I’ve got so many chips on my shoulder it’s a wonder my bra straps don’t get stuck in them. Really, babe, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It’s not the sort of thing one should go easy on oneself about.”
She breathed against him. “No. Of course not. But you did the best thing that could have been done in a crappy situation.” She squeezed his hand. “Come. It’s time to go find the others. We need to get you turned, if you still want to be, and healed as soon as we can. When we get to the dragons, you’ll need to be at peak strength. Are you ready?”
“I’ve been waiting to see dragons my entire life. And the first time I do, I kill one. Now I’m going to rectify the situation. There’s just one thing I’ve got to do first, but we can do that along the way.”
* * *
After describing Ruegger’s predicament to Danielle, Harry Lavaca had relayed the message Ruegger had asked him to send, then had gone back to his room in the Funhouse and tried to find some much-needed sleep.
It didn’t come.
Eventually, he gave it up and went to a tavern, where he ordered a cup of coffee instead of his usual.
After the coffee, he ordered his usual.
He spent a long time in the tavern, not listening to
the doomsday gossip or even thinking about Cloire, just trying to numb himself into oblivion.
Suddenly, a touch across his mind.
Harry?
Startled, he slammed down his martini, sloshing the table.
Ruegger?
I didn’t wake you, did I ...? No. Guess not. Couldn’t go to sleep?
No, Harry sent.
I’m sorry I sent you there. I didn’t know what they were up to, or what you’d see.
Ruegger, it’s not that. When Danielle explained it to me I was ... actually glad. That something was being done, finally. She told me about the dragons. Weird. I’ve always told you that, being an immortal, you should’ve been open to the possibility of other things out there.
Guess you were right, Ruegger replied.
Yeah.
And how are you? You don’t seem good.
I’ll be fine. Danielle actually suggested that I become a kavasari, too. She tell you that?
No.
She did. I guess you need all the kavasari you can get. She said you had to control some dragons in order to defeat Subaire and the rest of them. I actually felt bad for refusing the offer.
Don’t, Harry. Immortality isn’t something that should be thrust upon anyone, whatever the circumstances.
Thanks, Ruegger. Anyway, I know you didn’t just drop in to say hi. What’s the scoop?
Back when I talked to you earlier, I woke you up. I didn’t mean to, but I caught the tail of your dreams, and the thoughts behind them. You and Cloire ...
Are no more.
Which makes what I’m about to ask of you very hard. But I’ve got to. This is very, very important. Okay?
Shoot.
Byron’s a zombie now; Junger and Jagoda killed them all, the whole crew—Byron, Kilian and Loirot—and resurrected them. They gave Byron a tactical nuke and I think they sent him up into the Castle.
Shit.
Of everyone up there, only you and Cloire could spot him right off—and take him down if necessary.
Jesus.
I know I’m asking a lot.
You are, but ... a nuke! I may not like all these fuckers, but there are some good ones up here too, and I sure as hell don’t want them blown to bits, especially if it means crippling the Castle’s forces. I guess that must be what they want.
That’s what I think. But you never can tell with Junger and Jagoda. Anyway, I’m sorry to ask you this, but will you do it?
Harry drained his martini. You know I will, buddy. Good luck on your own task. I know you’ll need it.
Right back at you. Ruegger out.
* * *
Jean-Pierre met them before they could venture too deep into the Refuge.
“Thought you might need a guide,” he said. “We got pretty far, almost to the Meadow, before Roche stopped us.”
“Thanks,” said Ruegger.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Ruegger smiled. “No, I mean earlier, when you and Danielle went down to try to bust into the Sabo’s secret entrance. You were willing to risk your life to save mine.”
“Blood-brothers, remember? Now come on, let’s go catch up to Sophia and the others; they’re bound to be getting lonely.”
Strange, Ruegger thought, how they all seemed to be on a first-name basis here, except for him. Everybody called the Dark Lord Roche and referred to the man that had wrecked Ruegger’s life as Francois. No, not wrecked, Ruegger corrected. I did that myself.
Hand in hand, Ruegger and Danielle followed Jean-Pierre through the twisting caverns and tunnels of the Refuge. Constantly, Ruegger wanted to poke his nose into the various nooks and crannies and see what wild magical creatures waited there, but he knew time was limited. The sun would’ve set by now. It was probably six o’clock or so, and the Ambassador was to give his speech at nine. They were cutting it close.
Ruegger envied Jean-Pierre for his time down here, wandering and exploring. They had all entered a fantasyland and Ruegger was, to his surprise, finding it hard to resist curiosity. Dragons lived. Unicorns lived. All manner of creatures he’d never dreamed of lived down here, protected by Roche Sarnova and Francois Mauchlery—and, to a lesser extent, Lord Kharker.
Jean-Pierre led them to where the others had sat up camp, and they greeted Ruegger gratefully, but with fury at what Junger and Jagoda had done.
“Ruegger!” exclaimed Kharker, and embraced the Darkling. “It’s good to see you again. I’d thought that maybe, when I saw you go into the mountain last night … well, it might be the last time I’d ever lay eyes on you.”
“You could only be so lucky.”
Kharker laughed, then grew somber. “Roche told us about Malie. I thought you did a noble thing, going to her like you did ... Noble and foolish, but I guess you knew her a long time, even before she crossed over.” Grinning sadly, he shook his head. “Just think of all the times you’ve tried to change me. Guess you thought you’d have better luck with her.”
“I was wrong. If she’s going to change, it’s got to come from inside, not outside.”
“I just want you to know that you’ve made me proud, son. No matter what I might think of your morality, I’ll always love you and be proud of you.”
That touched Ruegger, and he hugged the Hunter again before his old mentor resumed sitting around a circle of stones that looked like a campfire in waiting. The group settled down after Ruegger’s arrival, and he marveled at their new abilities. Sophia lit a fire in the middle of the circle of stones with a flick of her index finger, and over the fire they roasted one of the large winged creatures that flew about the Chamber of the Green Lake. With no utensils or plates, the group ate with their hands, but no one seemed to mind.
“Interesting flavor,” Sophia said around her first bite.
Jean-Pierre gave her a sly look. “You’re the one that insisted on flying off and catching one of them.”
“I have to say that catching it was more fun that eating it.”
“I lost the scimitar and dagger,” Ruegger confessed to Kharker, who chewed on a taloned leg.
“Unimportant, my son. Besides, I brought you a replacement scimitar, just in case, as well as some guns for us all. As for your former weapons, I just hope they did you some good.”
“Oh, they did. They saved my life several times, in fact.”
“Your powers saved your life; the blades were just tools,” Kharker said.
“Maybe, but I used one of those tools to cut off Jagoda’s head.”
Kharker broke out into a thrilled laugh. “I wish I’d been there.”
“I wish I hadn’t.”
Danielle touched Ruegger’s shoulder. “It’s alright. We understand. You did the right thing. Maleasoel is just too far gone.”
“Still, at least in going there I learned something critical.” He explained in full about the nuclear weapons, then told them what he’d done about it.
“Good thinking,” Roche said.
“Yes,” said Mauchlery. “I just hope this Harry can get Cloire to go along with it. I haven’t had much experience with her, just that one time when she ordered me to tell Amelia to set things right for her and her group in New York, but she struck me as demanding and volatile.”
“She is,” Ruegger said. “But right now, other than what we’re doing here, Harry and Cloire just may be our only hope.”
“When do we leave?” said Danielle.
“Ruegger needs time to recuperate,” Francois said. “When he’s had it, when his body can take the shock of my blood, we’ll see if he’s ready for the next step. For now, we rest.”
After the meal, when things had quieted down, Ruegger and Danielle moved off to a small cavern and made love with a passion that surprised them both. At the climactic moment, small fires burst into existence around the edges of the chamber and he was surprised how powerful she’d grown. Stronger than himself, and with abilities he’d never imagined. Afterwards, as they lay holding each other and speaking quietly until the Ambassador
appeared at the room’s opening and coughed.
“Ruegger,” Francois said.
“Mauchlery.”
Danielle kissed Ruegger’s cheek. “If this is what you want, now’s the time. Whatever you choose, I love you. But just imagine the two of us flying together on the night winds—” (she lowered her voice) “—making love in free-fall. Not that I’m putting any pressure on you.”
He rose to his feet, and Mauchlery ushered him down a few tunnels and into a smallish cavern with a clear brook running through it. Francois crouched on a boulder and bade Ruegger join him. With only minor hesitation, the Darkling sat beside the man that had turned Amelia into a kavasari and set the stage for Ruegger’s descent.
“You still blame me, don’t you?” asked the Ambassador.
Mauchlery’s voice was quiet, not at all reproachful or condescending. Ruegger didn’t want to like this man, wanted in fact to hate him, but could not. Displaced aggression, he supposed a psychologist might call it; Ruegger was really angry at himself, at allowing himself to become what he’d become, and was transferring the anger onto Mauchlery.
“I understand, Ruegger. I was there myself, and I was there for a lot longer than you were. The embodiment of evil, a cruel and selfish tyrant that killed and tortured for amusement. Of any being now alive, I can say that I was, at one point, probably more evil than Junger and Jagoda. Or at least equally as evil. But your mind healed much more quickly than mine did, and that means something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re a better person than I am.”
Violently, Ruegger shook his head. “No. Mauchlery ... I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, and what I’ve come to learn is that people really do change. We were both evil once, but now we’re not.”
