by Prior, D. P.
“Want to know where I got this?” Thumil said, breaking the spell of the moment.
Carnifex looked round at the book Thumil was waving at him. “Nope.”
“Dythin Rala, that’s where.”
“Don’t you mean who?”
Thumil pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked rapidly. “Shog, this beer’s strong. I should have learnt my lesson the other night.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” Cordy said, setting a tray of tankards down on the table. “You talking about that shogging book again? It’ll rot your brain, Thumil, all that nonsense about peace and love.”
“That what Maldark was into?” Carnifex said, helping himself to another beer.
“That, and one shog of a big hammer for smiting those who disagreed with him,” Thumil said. “I’ve half a mind to get one myself.”
“So, the Voice reads banned books, and now the marshal of the Ravine Guard does, too,” Carnifex said. “No wonder things have been going from shitty to worse.”
“Ah, but why was it banned?” Thumil tucked the book away in his pocket and took a slurp of beer.
“Because Maldark shogged up,” Cordy said. “Everyone knows that.”
“Nothing to do with the scriptures,” Thumil said. “Maldark shogged up because he believed the Technocrat, Sektis Gandaw. He handed over the Statue of Eingana, which was the power source Gandaw needed to commence his Unweaving of all the worlds.”
“Statue of Eingana!” Cordy said. “I never did work out what that was. Rugbeard used to say it was once a giant snake.”
“That’s what it says in the Annals,” Thumil said. “A godlike being that fell through the Void from the Supernal Realm.”
Carnifex let out an unbridled yawn.
“My point is,” Thumil said, “that the scriptures had nothing to do with Maldark’s betrayal. Dythin Rala believes the same. The only reason Liber Via is banned is because of over-caution.”
“You mean, the first Council threw out the baby with the bathwater?” Cordy said.
“Exactly. All I’ve discovered so far is a different way of seeing things, of appraising who and what we are. The experience has made me want to… you know… become better.”
Carnifex finished his beer and took another. Without looking up, he started to sing:
“I thank you my lassie, my two-token whore,
“Your kisses were really much better before,
“You took out your teeth, and you stymied your tongue,
“And opened sore legs to a dwarf who’s well-hung.”
Thumil chuckled and joined in, and Cordy started to keep a beat by clashing her empty flagon on the tabletop.
“With a huff and a puff and a heave and a ho,
I’ll give you my heart, if my dwarfhood you’ll—”
The baresark lumbered into the table. There was a fearsome clash and clatter as flagons flew. Spilled beer poured in torrents onto the floor. All around the tavern, dwarves looked over, and a deafening silence ensued.
Thumil just sat there, drenched in Arnochian Ale for the second time that evening. He just happened to be sitting the wrong side of the table.
Carnifex started to reach for his new axe, but Cordy put a restraining hand on his arm.
The baresark leaned into Thumil. “Oops. Sorry about that.” He patted Thumil on the cheek. “No harm done.”
“You insolent shogger!” Thumil said, pushing up from his chair.
The baresark shoved him back down and kept him in place with a meaty hand on his shoulder. With the other, he grabbed hold of Thumil’s beard.
“What did you say?”
Thumil licked his lips. “I said—”
Cordy was on her feet in an instant. “He was being polite. It’s what I’m going to say you should be worried about.”
“Yeah?” the baresark said. He yanked out a clump of Thumil’s beard and threw it in her face, then ran his hands over his crotch. “You ain’t gonna say nothing when I fill that gob of yours.”
Thumil launched himself out of his chair, but the baresark backhanded him across the floor.
“That the best you got, old man?” the baresark said, advancing on Thumil as he struggled to rise.
Carnifex snapped his fingers. He didn’t even bother to get up. When the baresark spun to face him, he said, “No, laddie. I’m the best he’s got.”
Thumil found his feet and put out a placating hand. “It’s all right, Carn. He’s just had a bit too much to drink, is all. No harm done.”
The baresark ignored Thumil and bared his lips at Carnifex. His teeth were half missing, and those he had were yellow and filed to points. He narrowed his eyes and glared.
Carnifex folded his hands in his lap and glared back.
Behind Thumil, off-duty Red Cloaks started to draw closer, fan out around the baresark. Cordy clutched her empty tankard like she meant to do some serious damage with it. Captain Stolhok stood from the card table and came to Thumil’s side.
“Want uf to fling him out, Marfal?”
The baresark broke eye-contact with Carnifex and turned a furious circle, daring any of the Red Cloaks to have a go at him.
Carnifex chose that moment to stand. “Right, that’s enough, scut face. Sling your hook. Go on, shog off.”
The baresark whirled back to face him.
Carnifex raised an eyebrow.
The Red Cloaks pressed in closer.
Stolhok said, “Juft give the word, Marfal.”
The baresark took a faltering step toward Carnifex… then looked away. With a muttered curse, he strode to the door, wrenched it open, and slammed it behind him.
Carnifex plonked himself back down in his chair. “Like I said, no different than dogs. All you have to do is show them who’s boss.”
“It was me he was scared of,” Cordy said, slamming her tankard from hand to hand.
“You think a dozen or so Red Cloaks might have had something to do with it?” Thumil said, returning to the table and slumping into his chair.
Carnifex gave Stolhok and the lads a thumbs up. Stolhok crossed to a window and peered outside. Satisfied, he signaled the others to stand down, then went back to his card game.
“We should get going,” Thumil said. “All the excitement’s about done me in.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Cordy said. “This is my launch, remember? Anyone who can walk out of here is insulting my family brew.”
“In that case,” Carnifex said, “I’d better venture to the bar and see how many kegs you’ve still got back there.”
When he returned to the table with a fully-laden tray, Carnifex had to suppress a pang of jealousy. Cordy was sat on Thumil’s lap, arms around his neck. Her forehead was pressed against his.
As Carnifex set the tray down, Cordy leaned away from Thumil and said, “Poor old man. He’s quite shaken up.”
“Now that I doubt,” Carnifex said. “He’s just pretending, so he gets the sympathy hug. You want to be careful, Thumil. The lassie’s half your age. Not sure your ancient ticker could take it.”
Thumil patted Cordy on the arm, and she slid off his lap and into her own chair. “You’d be surprised what this old boy can do.” He reached for a flagon and raised it to his lips. “Drink you under the table, for one thing.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” Carnifex said. Then to Cordy, “Lassie? You in?”
He lost count of how many beers they put away somewhere after the third tray. When Brol Farny informed them they’d drunk the last of Cordy’s brew, the tavern had already emptied out. Thumil’s head was on the table, and he was snoring. Cordy was finishing off his beer for him. Carnifex considered going to the bar for some mead, but he couldn’t feel his legs.
“Want me to fetch you some kaffa?” Farny said.
Carnifex squinted at him, trying to bring him into focus. “Probably a good idea, laddie.”
Cordy belched and wiped froth from her beard. “Thing about quality ale,” she slurred, “is that you don’t get a
hang—”
Her head hit the table so hard, the empty tankards jumped and rattled.
BARESARKS
Next thing Carnifex knew, Farny was shaking him awake and holding a steaming cup of kaffa under his nose. His guts roiled, and the floor pitched. He tried focusing on the door, but it swayed from side to side.
Thumil was already finishing off his second cup of kaffa, and Cordy was sullenly sipping her third.
“Fresh air,” Carnifex said, lumbering to his feet and clutching the table for support. He shook his head at the kaffa Farny was still proffering.
“We’ll go with you,” Thumil said.
Outside, they looped arms, Carnifex in the middle, and shuffled off into the dark. The glowstones were dimmer toward the bottom of the ravine, where they were all but neglected. Many were so caked in grime, they shed no light at all.
The sky between the walkways was black as pitch. Occasionally, starlight twinkled, but even that seemed somehow further away than normal, and feeble.
By the time they sighted the steps encircling the Aorta, Carnifex was wishing he’d drunk that kaffa. Cordy and Thumil were practically dragging him, and his legs felt like they’d been crushed beneath a ton of rock.
Heavy footfalls told him something wasn’t right. Thumil gasped, and Cordy swore under her breath. They let go of his arms, and he stumbled, almost fell. Sounds of a scuffle. A thud and a whoomp.
“Get your hands off him!” Cordy yelled.
A slap, and she grunted.
Carnifex reeled on his feet. A flurry of movement in front. His head exploded in a blaze of white. Shards of pain ripped through his brain. He pitched to his arse, and his axe clattered as it hit the ground. Almost immediately, his vision cleared, and it felt like he’d not touched a drop.
The baresark from the tavern was looming over him, fist raised for a follow-up. Behind him, another wild dwarf had Thumil in a headlock, and a third was strangling Cordy from in front.
The fist came down at Carnifex. He rolled, snagged the baresark’s ankle, and flipped him onto his back. The shogger hit with a thud, and Carnifex was on top of him, bashing his head from side to side with punch after punch. Froth spilled from the baresark’s lips. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he began to howl. With unnatural strength, he shoved Carnifex off of him, and then he was on top. Carnifex grabbed his wrists, but the baresark’s head cracked into his brow. Pain flared. Carnifex nutted him back, then twisted out from under him.
He caught a glimpse of Thumil elbowing his baresark in the ribs and slipping free of the headlock. Cordy kicked hers in the fruits, but when he didn’t let go of her throat, she brought her arms up inside and poked him in the eyes.
Carnifex cracked his baresark a solid punch on the nose, split his lip with a second. The shogger responded with a savage roar and a flurry of bludgeoning blows. Carnifex bobbed and weaved around them, then leaped for the baresark’s neck and slammed him into the ground.
Thumil was spun from his feet by a haymaker. He tried to get straight back up, but the baresark kicked him in the jaw.
Cordy thumped and clawed and thrashed and bit, but nothing she did made the baresark release its throttling grip. Her movements were getting weaker, and the blood had all but drained from her face.
Carnifex’s attacker snarled and came up with a knife in hand. He lunged, but Carnifex swayed around the blade and elbowed the scut in the face. Blood sprayed from a pulped nose, but the baresark barely registered the fact. It delivered a vicious stab, but Carnifex rolled beneath it, and kept on rolling till he reached his axe. He rose on one knee, blocked a slash of the knife, then smacked the baresark in the temple with the flat.
Thumil was up. He’d seen the danger to Cordy, and flung himself at the baresark strangling her, but the one attacking him yanked him away and lifted him over head.
Lightning ripped through Carnifex’s veins. The baresark accosting him aimed a dagger thrust, but it suddenly looked to be moving through treacle. Carnifex swung his axe, sliced through flesh and bone. The baresark’s arm flopped to the ground, still clutching the dagger. Blood pumped from the stump of its elbow.
In the same timeless moment, Carnifex spun and hurled the axe. It whistled through the air and hit the baresark about to throw Thumil in the stomach. The baresark doubled up, and Thumil fell on top of him.
One-arm growled and took a swing with his remaining fist, but Carnifex ducked beneath it and hit him in the jaw with all he had. The baresark’s head snapped back, and he fell.
Immediately, Carnifex barreled into the one throttling Cordy, bowling them both over. Cordy hit the ground hard and rolled clear. Carnifex landed on top of the baresark and gave him a dose of his own medicine. He got one arm round its throat, and with the other put pressure on its head. Veins and cords of sinew stood out on the baresark’s neck. His face reddened, then turned purple. From Carnifex’s right came the sound of pounding feet—the one he’d winded with the axe.
There was a grunt and a scuffle. Carnifex risked a glance. Thumil was on the baresark’s back, pounding its ears with his open palms.
In the distance, whistle blasts peeled out. The Red Cloaks were coming.
Cordy propped herself up on one elbow, free hand rubbing her bruised throat. Her eyes widened at something behind Carnifex. He swiveled, not relinquishing his headlock. The one-armed baresark was lumbering toward him. Blood was still gushing from the stump of his elbow, and his chest and legs were bathed in crimson. But his eyes were wild, and froth spewed between the gaps in his teeth.
The baresark Carnifex had hold of roared and tried to surge upright. Carnifex tightened his hold, and squeezed.
Thumil’s baresark threw him off, grabbed him by the collar, and punched him in the face, over and over.
One-arm charged like some unstoppable demon.
Seeing the danger, Carnifex put everything he had into a sharp, powerful twist. Sinew snapped, bone cracked, and the baresark he was holding slumped to the ground. Then, Carnifex powered into One-arm, swung him round, and slammed him into the wall of the Aorta again and again and again. The shogger kept roaring and thrashing with his remaining arm, but soon the roars turned to gurgles, and then he slid down the wall and remained still.
Footfalls echoed across the walkway. Two Red Cloaks came from the direction of Kunaga’s, another two from beyond the Aorta. Still more were coming down the steps from the level above.
Carnifex turned around, seeking out Thumil and his assailant, and fearing the worst. What he saw, though, was Cordy stepping away from the pair, and leaving Carnifex’s axe buried in the back of the baresark’s skull. The wild dwarf still delivered a few weak punches, as if his brain hadn’t yet worked out he was dead, but then he toppled to one side, and the axe tore free as it hit the ground.
A dark shape separated out from the shadows of the Aorta and ran down the steps toward the next level. Carnifex started after it.
“Nobody move!” a Red Cloak yelled. And then, “Oh my shog, Carn!”
“Kal?” Carnifex said. “What kept you?”
The dwarf with Kal—Gruffick Darn?—went to help Thumil up.
Thumil’s face was a mess, but he still managed to steady himself on his feet. “Thank you, Harby.”
Carnifex could have sworn it was Darn. It must have been the poor light. Either that, or the grog corroding his brain.
Within moments, a dozen Red Cloaks surrounded them, and more were still coming.
“Clean up here, Kal,” Thumil said. “And burn the bodies. Last thing we want’s a blood feud with more of the shoggers.”
“Marshal,” Kal said, thumping his chest in salute.
Carnifex went to check on One-arm. He’d intended only to knock him senseless, but the baresark was dead from loss of blood.
“You need a surgeon,” Kal said to Thumil.
“Nonsense. Just a few cuts and bruises. You all right?” he asked Cordy.
She rubbed her throat. Already, a purplish bruise was blooming there. �
��Never better,” she said, but her voice came out a croak.
“Finish up here,” Thumil told Kal, “then bring me your report come morning. I’ll take what’s happened to the Council, see if we need to give the baresarks a reminder to stay where they belong.”
“You’re not coming in to work, surely?” Kal said.
Thumil ignored him and instead drew Cordy into an embrace. “Grab your axe, Carn, and let’s get back to mine for a nightcap.”
As Carnifex stooped to pick the axe up, someone started clapping from the mouth of an alley. He peered into the dark but couldn’t see more than a shadowy outline.
“Carnifex Thane, what’s in a name?” a lilting voice half-sang.
“What’s that?” Carnifex started toward the alley, but Thumil called him back.
“Don’t worry about him. That’s just Stupid.”
“Stupid?”
“The local idiot,” Thumil said. “Surprised you haven’t run into him. Some of the patrols catch him scavenging for food from time to time. The Voice must have taken pity on him, because I’ve been told to leave him well alone. Dythin Rala’s even invited him to the odd function for light entertainment, you know, juggling, clowning about, that sort of thing.”
A dwarf emerged into the ailing light of the glowstones. He was dressed in a patchwork jacket and britches, a tall, crooked hat perched atop his head. His eyes held an unnatural sparkle as they studied Carnifex.
“Some names are best forgotten,” Stupid said. “Carnifex Thane, go down the drain.”
“That’s enough, Stupid,” Thumil said. “None of us is in the mood.”
“Now, now, Marshal,” Stupid said. “Won’t be no moods, if you lose your head.” He turned his eyes on Cordy. “Look who’s going places: Cordana Kilderkin. No head, no voice, makes you the choice.”
“You heard the marshal,” Carnifex said.
“And I’m going, I’m going. See how I go.” Stupid backed into the alley. Just before the dark swallowed him, he said, “You must forget in order to find the truth of who you are, Carnifex Thane. Beware the wiles of the Demiurgos.”
And then he was gone.
“You think he’s involved?” Kal said.
