by Troy Denning
The man's nose exploded across his face, spewing blood and cartilage in every direction. Atreus flung his victim into the guards behind him, stepping forward to kick the second oarsman's feet from beneath him. The fellow landed flat on his back, and Atreus finished him with a stomp to the throat. He turned to find his last two attackers trying to claw their way out from beneath the oarsman with the smashed nose.
Atreus grinned and leaped into the fray, biting an ear off and gouging two eyes out with his naked fingers, both favorite ogre brawling tricks. By the time he finished, he was painted in blood, and the two slavers were clutching their mutilated faces, screaming miserably and lying at the feet of their horrified charges.
Atreus rose, braced his hands on his knees, and tried to ignore the pain racking his body. His wounds were taking their toll, even after Seema's elixir. Normally, a little wrestling match would hardly be enough to tire him.
"B-by the Forgotten Ones, look what you have done! Eight men and T-Tarch!" cried Rishi. The Mar was kneeling on the aft deck, soaked and shivering as Seema tugged at his wet clothes. "You are Ysdar's devil!"
The words caused the slaves to cringe away from Atreus. He cursed under his breath and held out his hands to reassure the frightened captives, but this only caused them to cry out in their native tongue and fling themselves away.
"I am not a devil!" Even as Atreus said this, he glanced down at his naked, blood-smeared body and realized how deceiving appearances could be. "Rishi, tell them! I'm just a man."
Atreus started toward the dry clothes awaiting him on the rear deck, then saw a scaly hand rise up behind the stern and grasp the barge. He snatched the nearest club and started aft, the slaves straining against their chains to lean out of his way. Rishi's jaw dropped, and what little color he had vanished.
"There is no need for temper, good sir! I will tell them!"
Rishi began to speak to the slaves in Maran, somehow staggering to his feet despite the stump of the severed lance still protruding from his calf. Seema frowned and draped a dry blanket over his shoulders, scolding him in her version of the same language. A second scaly hand appeared beside the first, and still neither of them noticed.
Atreus leaped another row of slaves, and Rishi reached into his cloak for a throwing knife.
"No! Behind you," Atreus shouted, pointing with his club.
The sound of cascading water murmured up from the river, and Tarch's pointed head appeared just above the deck. Rishi spun and flung his knife in one motion, striking the slave master square between the eyes.
The tip scattered a few scales, then clattered to the deck, unable to penetrate Tarch's thick brow.
"I knew you was trying to peel me," Tarch growled.
The devil pulled himself up over the edge of the deck.
Rishi cursed and grabbed Seema, hobbling around to put her between himself and the slave master.
"This is not my doing!" Rishi produced a throwing knife and pressed it to Seema's cheek, saying, "Touch me, and I will mark her!"
Atreus hit the rear deck at a sprint and, ignoring his urge to club Rishi senseless on the way past, rushed to meet the slave master. Tarch sprang onto his feet as nimbly as a lynx. Atreus charged in swinging.
This time, Tarch was ready. He caught the attack on his wrist, then counter-punched to the body. Atreus tried to leap clear, and only his backward momentum kept the slave master's fist from driving a shattered rib through his lungs. As it was, the impact forced the air from his chest and knocked him three full paces backward.
Atreus staggered and barely managed to keep his feet, allowing Tarch to step securely onto the deck. Rishi backed away slowly, still holding his knife to Seema's face, and the slaves murmured in fear.
"You can take a punch." Tarch stepped toward Atreus. "That's good. There'll be a lot of punches in Baator."
Atreus did not reply-his aching lungs did not contain the air. He simply launched himself at the slave master, club held high. When Tarch raised his arm to block, Atreus leaped into the air and planted both feet square in the slave master's chest. Tarch stumbled backward and slipped overboard, catching the edge of the deck as he dropped into the water. Atreus landed on his side and began to slam his heels down on the slave master's scaly fingers. Two digits came loose, but then Tarch's second hand caught him by the ankle.
A strange tingling stung Atreus's flesh. His leg grew numb and weak, and his whole body started to quiver. An unreasoning fear welled up inside him, chasing from his mind all he had ever learned about fighting. He dropped his club and clawed at the deck. He could think only of escaping the terror that had him, of freeing himself of this inhuman thing and hurling himself into the icy river and swimming for the shore. Any shore.
Tarch's pointy head peered over the side, his grasp still firm on Atreus's ankle. "Leatherhead! Now you've driven me berkers," the slave master swore. "Gold or no gold, I'll make bloodmeal of you and your-"
A whip cracked, coiling itself around Tarch's throat and cutting short his threat. As the slave master choked out his rage, Atreus looked across the deck and was astonished to find Rishi standing at the other end, feet braced and pulling hard to keep the line taut.
"Good sir, you m-must take up your club and hit him!"
In his mindless panic, Atreus came near to not understanding. He turned away and clawed at the deck, still trying to kick his leg free. He felt shamed by his behavior but could not help himself. This fear was unlike anything he had ever known. It was the overwhelming terror of indestructible evil.
A strangled chortle rose from Tarch's throat, and Atreus realized, dimly, that the devil was laughing at him. The slave master let go of the deck and grabbed the whip. A stream of flame shot up the strand, moving so fast that Rishi barely had time to drop the weapon before a brilliant flash consumed the handle and arced down to touch off a small deck fire.
As all this occurred, Tarch started to sink back into the river, dragging Atreus with him. This was too much. Clutching for anything he could grab, Atreus found only the club, which would do nothing to keep his captor from dragging him down into a watery hell. He grasped the weapon in both hands and twisted around, slamming the shaft into the slave master's skull.
The impact rocked Tarch's head sideways but did not cause him to open his hand. The slave master sank to his neck in the river, continuing to drag his captive with him. Atreus brought the club around again, this time connecting just behind the devil's pointed ear.
Tarch's beady eyes rolled back in their hollow sockets. His hand came free of Atreus's ankle, and he splashed into the river. His legs and torso bobbed up beside him, so that he was floating spread-eagled beside the barge. Atreus used the club to shove the slave master away, then kneeled on the edge of the deck watching him twitch and tremble. When the devil had finally drifted a safe distance off, Atreus rose and turned forward.
Seema and Rishi were busy smothering the deck fire with blankets, while the slaves were craning their necks to see what was happening on the rear deck. Still suffering the strange effects of Tarch's grasp, Atreus pointed at the rowing platform in the center of the boat.
"What's wrong with you?" he screamed. "Start rowing!"
The slaves only cowered and looked as though they feared he would kill them. Atreus glanced over the side and saw Tarch still drifting back toward the boat, his chest rising and falling with shallow breath.
Atreus turned back to the slaves and screamed again, "I said row, damn you!"
Seema dropped her blanket over the smoldering fire and came over to him. "Breathe deeply, Atreus. Compose yourself," she said, touching his arm. He immediately began to feel more calm. "Tarch has used his power on you. If you think, you will recall that the slaves are chained. You will know they cannot do what you ask."
Atreus's terror began to subside. After a moment, he nodded. "You are right, of course." Now that his panic was fading, he was beginning to feel embarrassed by his behavior. "Forgive me. I promised to protect you from Tarch, and n
ow here I am, so terrified that I cannot even think clearly."
Atreus selected a cloak and a pair of trousers from the dingy pile of clothes still lying on the deck, then turned toward the rowing station. "I'll start us upstream," he told her. "See if you can unchain someone and get him to take my place."
"Whatever you wish."
Seema surprised him with a bow, then turned toward the cabin, leaving a shivering and staggering Rishi to put out the remains of the deck fire. Atreus pulled on his new clothes and went forward to the rowing station. All that remained of the day's light was a gray glow in the western sky, and he could barely see the willows stretching away into the vast-ness. Yago was out there somewhere, either lost or dead, and Atreus had no idea how he would find out which.
He started to call out for his friend, then looked downstream and thought better of it. The last two dugouts were just rounding the bend below, about two hundred paces distant
Calling for Yago would only alert them to his presence and place him in more danger. It would be better to trust the ogre to figure things out on his own. He was a capable hunter and would know how to read the signs when he came to the shore where they had battled Naraka.
Atreus grabbed the monstrous oars and swung the boat around, and soon he was working too hard to notice the growing chill. Seema emerged from the cabin with a hammer and cold chisel that she tried to give to one of the larger slaves. At first, the astonished fellow kept looking in Atreus's direction and refused to take the tools, but when Seema pointed at the empty rowing station, he finally seemed to understand and began pounding at his shackles.
By the time the slave freed himself, dusk had fallen completely, leaving the boat illuminated only by the light of the full moon. The man approached Atreus warily and carefully laid the hammer and chisel at his feet, then grabbed the second set of oars and began to row.
Too exhausted to puzzle over the peculiar behavior, Atreus gave the tools to the nearest slave and instructed him to free everyone. This occasioned a great deal of confused murmuring, but eventually Atreus managed to communicate what he wanted and went aft to join Seema and Rishi. He pulled a spare blanket over his shoulders and sank down on the deck beside them.
"What's wrong with them?" he asked. "They don't seem very eager to escape."
"They are afraid," said Seema. She was working by the light of a small oil lamp, poking and prodding at the lance in Rishi's leg. "They think you will kill them if they try."
"Me?" Atreus exclaimed. "We're all in this together!"
Seema looked up. "What do you mean, together?" "They do not understand you, Atreus," Rishi laughed. "They think you are one thieving devil stealing from another."
Atreus sighed and looked at Seema. "Is that what you think?"
"I think being a thief is only a small wickedness," Seema said, avoiding Atreus's gaze as she continued to examine Rishi's leg. "There are greater evils in this world."
"I am no thief," Atreus declared, "and I am no devil. When we reach the head of the river, they are free to return to their homes. Tell them."
Seema looked up. "Truly?"
It was Rishi who answered, "Oh yes, truly. The good sir is a silly fool who cares nothing for wealth." The Mar cast a wistful glance downriver, toward Atreus's sunken gold. "He will throw it away on the merest pretext."
"Human beings are not wealth," Atreus said. He nodded to Seema. "Tell them. They will row faster knowing they are free men."
"Oh, I see." Seema's eyes grew sad, but she rose and spoke rapidly in Maran.
The slaves began to murmur even louder and cast wary glances at the aft deck. Atreus huddled in his blanket and tried not to look quite so much like a blood-smeared devil.
"Rishi, how do I say she is telling the truth?"
"Ekc'kta reeto."
Atreus repeated the phrase, though he did not come even close to imitating the Mar's strange throat click.
The slaves gasped and looked confused, until someone began jabbering in Maran. The others began to laugh, and suddenly the boat broke into a swirl of frenzied activity, with men rushing forward to serve as pilots while others jumped up to help at the oars.
"What did I say?" Atreus asked.
"That yaks are very honest," said Rishi, "but I think they understand what you meant."
"It would have been simpler to say it in Realmspeak," Seema added. "Mountain Mar are not ignorant savages, you know."
"No, you are not savages at all," said Rishi, pointedly leaving out the word "ignorant."
Seema scowled, then knelt down and placed her knees on Rishi's leg to either side of the broken lance.
"Will you remove the shaft?" she asked, looking to Atreus. "Pull it straight out, the quicker the better."
Rishi twisted around, his eyes wide with fear. "Quicker? Wait one-"
Atreus grabbed the shaft and pulled, removing it in one smooth motion. Rishi howled in pain, and dark blood began to bubble from the wound. Seema stuffed a rolled bandage into the hole, causing the Mar so much pain that he pounded the deck and twisted around to glare at her.
"You are a depraved mountain witch!" he screamed, "to inflict such pain and enjoy it!"
"The lance had to come out." Seema sprinkled white dust on the hole, drawing another sharp hiss from Rishi. "This will prevent the wound from festering."
"Succubus!"
Recalling the numbing powder Seema had used on his wound, Atreus said to Rishi, "Perhaps it would hurt less if you showed more gratitude."
The Mar whirled toward Atreus. "You dare speak to me of gratitude? You, whose promise is not worth a yak?"
"I won't argue this again," said Atreus. "Gold means nothing to a drowned man."
"You are a liar and thief. Had you wanted to keep your word, you could have waited to escape until after Tarch pulled the gold up tomorrow."
Atreus shook his head. "I would have been in shackles by tomorrow, and you would have been killed the instant Tarch had the gold. I did what was best for all of us. Now, I am done discussing this."
"And I am done with you. I have seen the way you repay those who serve you!" Rishi would not hold still for Seema to bandage his leg as he continued to rant, "You would rather let. Yago lose himself in the swamp than spend a single night in shackles!"
"Watch your tongue," Atreus warned. "If Yago is alive, he'll find us. If he isn't… I want to hear nothing about it from you."
"Oh, you cannot hide behind the memory of Yago," Rishi sneered. "It is no secret to me what happens when a pretty slave girl smiles at someone like you."
Atreus raised his brow. "Someone like me?" he asked, insulted. Atreus was trembling with anger, perhaps because there was more than a little truth in Rishi's venom. "What, exactly, do you think someone like me feels when a beautiful woman smiles at him?"
Without awaiting a reply, Atreus rose and started forward.
"Do not come tomorrow and beg me to be your guide," Rishi called after him. "I do not take fools on fable-chases for free, you know!"
Atreus bit back a furious reply, slipped past the rowers who were working two men to an oar and propelling the barge along at a surprisingly brisk pace and went up to the bow. The Mar lookouts greeted him with nervous smiles and gave him a wide berth, which was just as well in his current mood. He laid down on the edge of the deck and cupped the dark river water in his hands and began to wash the blood from his devil's face.
When he finished, he found Seema waiting with her lamp and tray of potions. "We were not finished," she said. "I must tend your wounds, or you will be in no condition to flee Tarch tomorrow."
Atreus laid down on his side. "I'm sorry for the things Rishi said," he told her. "I can see for myself that your people are not ignorant."
"They are only words," Seema replied, then knelt beside him and pulled aside his cloak. The needle and thread she had been using earlier still dangled from his wound. "Was he telling the truth? Am I the reason you killed the slavers?"
Atreus looked away, but said, "Part
of the reason. I couldn't bear to think what Tarch had in store for you."
"I see."
Seema shoved the needle through a flap of skin, drawing a sharp hiss of pain from Atreus.
"I, uh, can feel that," he said. "I think the numbing powder has worn off."
"I know," Seema said, pulling the thread through. Atreus's side felt like it was burning. "I give you strength and tend your wounds, and you repay me with killing?"
She shoved the needle in again, and this time Atreus managed not to hiss.
CHAPTER 9
Atreus woke to the murmur of voices and to the roar of a nearby waterfall. When he opened his eyes he found himself lying on the bow deck, buried beneath an avalanche of yak-hair blankets, staring at a stony mountainside looming up behind the barge's stern cabin. The slope was grassy, steep, and strewn with massive crags of folded rock. Over the largest of these outcroppings hung the terminus of a glacier, a dirty curtain of ice with a silver ribbon of melt-water arcing out from beneath it. Above the glacier, a low pall of snow clouds cloaked the mountain heights in a veil of gray vapor.
The voices continued to murmur, rippling out of the willow swamp alongside the barge. Atreus stayed beneath his blankets, thinking it wiser not to draw attention to himself until he gathered his groggy wits. He did not recall falling asleep, only wrapping himself in a blanket and sitting down to sip another of Seema's potions. If the concoction had knocked him out, it had also rejuvenated him. He felt strong and rested, with no sign of fever. His wounds itched more than they ached, and when he ran his fingers over the lance puncture in his breast he was surprised to find it already closed. Seema's healing magic was more powerful than he had thought.
As Atreus's head cleared, he saw that he had been abandoned. Save for vacant slave chains snaking across the decks and two sets of oars still resting in their locks, the barge was empty, beached stern-first so everyone could sneak ashore without disturbing him on the bow. A familiar cold hollowness arose inside Atreus. This was hardly the first time someone had taken pains to avoid him, but it was certainly the most callous. Having saved the Mar from a life of bondage he had thought they might return his kindness by helping him find his way to Langdarma, but he should have known better than to think any act of kindness would blind people to his humped back and disfigured face.
