My sword, empowered with Firestorm, slid between his ribs as if they were butter, and I twisted it around in his guts or whatever he had inside him.
The drogter steamed slightly after my ability, only stopping his howling when his head crashed into the stone wall next to us.
“Who wants the next shave?” I asked the silent crowd, shaking my sword at them. “The salon’s open from sunrise to sunset.”
“Tgorkkkh,” yelped the first drogter I’d been talking to as he pointed a gray finger at me. “Tgorkkkh!”
Three drogters stepped forward at once, pushing me to the edge of the water.
“Uh oh,” I said to myself, huddling behind my shield and dropping my sword a bit lower than my waist. “This is getting serious.”
I dodged to one side, then to the other, using my sword and shield to parry their blows. There was barely time to attack—my first concern was defense. But when I saw an opening…
“Memory of the God!”
That earned me a critical hit that nearly knocked off one of them, though I got a light, if annoying wound in return. Whatever—we’ll see who gets the last laugh.
Swords clanged against each other, my shield shuddered under the weight of their blows, and I was happy to find that the beasts didn’t really know how to work with each other. Each of them tried to be the one to kill me, getting in the way of the other two as they did. If it hadn’t been for that, I probably would have found myself in my underwear cursing life in the mining town.
“Ah-ha!” One down. That made things much easier.
“Fragsssh!” One of the other two simply charged me with his sword held out in front of him, though that just got him my sword in his side. I shoved him down onto the sand, though his friend’s sword kept me too occupied to finish him off.
“Skargsssh!” What the hell was that? 17% of my health gone?
The drogter on the sand had buried a dagger in my leg, and he followed that up by getting up and swinging at me again. Fine, take that!
Another head rolled off to the side, though I got carried away, left my side open, and took a hit. That was it, however—I had it in me to finish off one more, and that was it.
“Wolf Soul!”
My gray friend charged, aiming to bury his teeth in a particularly sensitive area on the drogter’s body that was covered with a cloth. Nice work. The drogter paused for a second, and that was enough for my wolf to latch on, my sword making a hole in the drogter’s ribcage as he did.
The wolf and I stood there looking at the remainder of the drogters. Their leader smiled evilly as he looked back. What are you grinning about, you wretch? It’s four to nothing in my favor so far.
“You strong warrior.” I shivered at how heinous he looked when he smiled. “I make cup from your skull—good thing!”
“That should turn out great,” I replied gruffly. “The only thing is that you have to get my skull first.”
“That not so hard like you think.” He waved his hand and five drogters came at me.
From somewhere above us came staccato commands in a deep voice, and the drogter looking for my skull straightened up. Looks like the boss wants to see what’s going on. I prepared for my next battle.
I deflected three blows, missed one, missed another that knocked the wind out of me, and missed one more, falling down onto my left knee…
“Rrookh!” The bass boomed, and the swords poised above my head stopped where they were.
I hauled myself up onto both legs, barely any health left.
“Who are you?” an enormous drogter asked imperiously. His head was three times the size of mine, and he had some kind of frilly badge on his powerfully muscled chest. “You are who?”
“I’m a warrior of the West, Thane Hagen,” I replied. “Who’s asking?”
“You have mark of Master,” the confused hulk said. “How you have mark of Master?”
Oh great, another mark. Dear God, how many are there? I felt like some kind of suitcase belonging to a great traveler, someone like Fedor Konyukhov[8]—a guy who got bored one day, grew out his beard, and basically decided to measure the globe in footsteps. Everyone had their mark on me, I was covered in stickers, there were tags hanging off me, and I even had a couple chalk crosses for good measure.
Wait a second, who is this? Hagen? What? He still doesn’t have my mark on him? That’s no good! Let me fix that.
“I have no idea,” I replied frankly. “Maybe we crossed paths at some point. Who is your master, by the way?”
“You and Master? Ha!” The drogter made a face that looked like he’d just bitten down on a rotten nut—there was no effort to answer my question whatsoever. “You are Light one, ah!”
“Ah-h!” the crowd on the stairs echoed.
“And Master not like you—he came and say he is our father, we his children, go home to cave. Then he say death to Light ones. You Light, but you have his mark. How?”
I gave up trying to understand anything besides the fact that I apparently had some kind of mark from whoever his master was. Oh, and I’m a Light one. Ah!
“But I not see mark,” the first drogter said, a bit annoyed. “Why?”
“You still small,” the leader replied paternally, adding something in their hissing, rumbling language. The first drogter, the one I’d been talking to earlier, pooched out his lip, his eyes filling with blood, and yelled something with a finger pointed in my direction.
It looked like death had receded into the future a bit, though it hadn’t gone too far—the warriors next to me still had their swords at the ready.
The two drogters hissed and yelled at each other, saliva flying, until the leader got tired of it. His sword flashed, and one more long-lipped head was added to the collection on the sand bar where I was standing.
“Your come with us,” the big drogter announced. “Master is not in city now, though Eye of Master tell us what do with you—kill or no. It say why you with mark.”
“I hope so,” I replied. “I want to know, too. Can we go easy though? Your drogters are good warriors, and they beat me up pretty well.”
“Warriors from clan Svaffkh bad warriors,” the leader said. “Big ship sailed away, your stand on legs though they had two arms and you one. They crap, not warrior.”
“Maybe,” I said, spitting on the rocks, “though they still got me pretty good. I can’t walk that fast.”
“Human weak, human ah-h,” he said, lip drooping farther than usual, before waving. “Khritt.”
A drogter with a twisted staff in his hand separated from the crowd. He had gray hair, pouches under his chin, and a fishbone jutting out of his lip.
The leader muttered something and gestured in my direction; the one with the fishbone nodded, waved his staff, and whispered something.
You were exposed to black magic not tolerated among the light races in Fayroll.
Health restored: 80%
Penalty for receiving a benefit from dark magic:
-2 to wisdom
-5 to stamina
Penalty duration: 2 hours
So that was different: dark magic and a penalty to boot. What else is going to happen down here?
“Well, Light one, you are ready to see Eye of Master?”
I flipped my shield over my back and sheathed my sword. “Why not?”
What was it that I said about how fast women walk through stores? They’re nothing compared to a crowd of drogters dashing through caves. The beasts flew along like the Bandar-log on their vines. I would have fallen off the pace and gotten lost in the innumerable twists and turns, in fact, had there not been a couple dozen droopy-lipped sprinters behind me.
We ran along the edge of a gorge, then through some stone gullies, until, accelerating and clearly in a hurry, we flew around a majestic underground city that had obviously been built by dwarves. In the distance, I could see colonnades, bridges with and without arches, smaller homes, and enormous palaces, a few of the latter somehow even using daylight to illum
inate their interiors. What is this city? Why is it here? It wasn’t even worth asking the drogters—at least, not right then.
Just when I felt like I was going to drop dead from exhaustion, we stopped near a large gate set between two walls of stone. There was a lovely and intriguing symbol painted on them, possibly in blood: a three-pronged crown crossed by an arrow. Maybe that’s the drogters’ clan crest?
The leader pulled out a twisted horn and blew into it. The gate creaked as it eased open.
“Light one, your take no step from me,” the drogter leader warned me. “If you fall back, you not live. This our city, Light ones here only food.”
“Got it, I’m no fool,” I said with a nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you.”
“Light one!” yelped one of the guards. “Ah-h!”
The second cursed at me in their language when he saw me, pulling out his sword as he did—his intentions were very clear.
The leader barked something, and the two calmed down. That didn’t keep them from drooling as they eyed me, however. I’m never going underground again—never! Apparently, I hadn’t learned my lesson after the Rina Mountains. I should have just taken the long way, even if it would have taken forever…
“We going.” The leader went on ahead, me in his wake. I wasn’t going to let him go anywhere without me.
The city was exotic and heavily populated. There weren’t many real buildings, though a sea of gypsy-like tents and a crowd of drogters stretched off as far as the eye could see. We were up there on the surface doing quests and taking out wolves and goblins, the könig was downing beer in his palace, and Queen Anna was settling the Western Reaches, while below us the whole time was a powerful horde capable of taking on half of Rattermark. There weren’t just a lot of them; they were innumerable. Their city was bigger than Aegan—it took us a good twenty minutes to walk to their tallest building, which had three stories. And I was terrified every step of the way. Suddenly, I understood how roast pigs feel when you carry them to the table past your guests. The drogters around me were all drooling, smacking their lips, and chewing me up with their eyes. It was brutal.
“House of Eye of Master,” the leader said, pointing to the wooden, three-story building. Two guards stood next to the door. “You go with me. Now we learn everything.”
The stairs creaked as we walked up to the top floor, and I followed the leader into a small room featuring a curtain dividing it into two equal halves.
“Stand here, go nowhere,” he commanded me. “Speak nothing, move nothing.”
“Can I breathe?” I couldn’t keep from asking.
The leader sniffed, pulled on his lip, and waved at me.
“Can breathe, but not fast and not loud.”
Well, thank you very much. So what’s behind the curtain?
He carefully pulled open the curtain and slipped through it. Judging by the sound, he fell on his knees and started babbling something as soon as he got to the other side. I couldn’t really hear anything, though, from the scattered words that wafted out to me, I could tell they were discussing the unsuccessful attack on the steamboat as well as me.
The curtain swayed as something brushed up high against it—whoever had taken an interest in me was very tall. Who could that be?
The curtain swayed again, and I heard another voice. For as hard as I strained my ears, however, I couldn’t catch anything—not the timbre, not the intonation, not what it was saying.
Something banged, presumably the leader’s forehead against the floor, and a moment later he came back out.
“Eye of Master recognized you and makes you three gifts, even though you not worthy. First: your miserable life. Second: you leave our city. Third: we take you around passages to big lake and Light city.”
“But what about the mark?” I said, asking the question that had been bothering me.
“Eye not say, but say what we need to do so…” The warrior paused, waved his pointer finger, and dove back behind the curtain. He was back thirty seconds later to take up a proud pose. “So you stop wandering who-knows-where, in places where you shouldn’t be wandering, and so you stop going pulling down problem after problem on your head!”
I was speechless. Who’s behind the curtain?
Chapter Seventeen
In which we learn to avoid being greedy.
“Your stand here and wait,” the leader said, looking at me sternly. “Now we do…that…pro-ce-dure, and then your go crooked passages.”
He walked over to the door, roared something in their language, waited for the guard to run up to the third floor, and handed him some kind of order.
I was starting to get my wits about me, though I still couldn’t imagine who was behind the curtain. Sure, I could have just run over there, torn down the curtain, and looked to see who the mysterious Eye of the Master was, though I was afraid that would be the last thing I’d get to see in those mysterious lands. The leader probably wouldn’t tolerate that kind of sacrilege, I figured. After all, just the sight of the secret stranger, one I possibly knew, was enough for him to fall on his knees.
“We wait here little,” he said, coming over to me. “Soon elders from the tribes come—they need be here.”
Oh, sweet mother, they have elders here, too? I started getting nervous.
Ten minutes later the aforementioned elders were starting to gather. They all looked the part of hardened criminals with the many tattoos they had, not to mention the variety of objects they’d used to pierce their lower lips: bones, rings, and one fine woman’s bracelet. One thing was for sure—they weren’t any old riffraff; they were serious, respected people. I mean, drogters.
They tramped into the room single file, one by one falling to their knees and smacking their foreheads against the floor in front of the curtain. They got up and shook hands with each other. Obviously, they ignored me—ah-h! Their leader turned to me once the tenth one had walked in.
“Eye of Master said me that you remember this day forever. Eye say that if you stick ass where does not belong, you pay for curiosity. You bend over, we teach you now!”
I found myself stupefied once again. You’re going to do what to me? What, those guys and their tattoos think they’re going to teach me their lesson? You’ve got to be kidding me!
“Listen, drogter,” I said, adding all the resolve to my voice that I could. “This isn’t for me. I’m a tolerant guy, but still.”
“I not understand your words,” the leader said with a wave of his hand. “You show us ass and bend over a little.”
“Screw you!” I lost it. “Bend over? Have you lost your minds?”
The upper half of the curtain trembled slightly—the perverted jokester was apparently watching the proceedings with pleasure.
“If we not do what Eye orders,” the leader barked, “then yours die! Bend, I tell you!”
“Bend yourself,” I shot back, though right then somebody smacked me right in the back of the knees. It was surprising, cowardly, painfully, and, sadly, effective—and not in my favor. I collapsed on the floor, they grabbed my elbows and pulled at my arms until I felt my joints crack, and I was thrust forward and into a familiar pose. They then rotated me so I was facing the curtain.
“You long-lipped bastards!” I howled. “What the hell are you doing? You know what I’m going to do to you…”
They didn’t stick around to hear what I was going to say, instead smacking me lightly upside the head and jabbing a piece of wood in my mouth.
“Well, we begin, blessed by Eye of the Master,” I heard the leader say. Then I heard his footsteps as he walked toward me from behind. I don’t believe this. How do you say that some bastards in a game–
“Ah-h!” I yelled in pain and surprise, spitting the wood out of my mouth.
“Good work,” one of the elders holding me said approvingly. “Hit so hard that he yell—your need experience for that. I see, you will be great leader, as you are fast and strong!”
“My good at i
t,” the leader laughed menacingly. “My master at kicking ass!”
Yes, the bastards were taking turns walloping me in the rear end, taking good long swings and enjoying the whole thing.
“Eye say that next time you think with head, not ass, about where your go!” the leader said ruthlessly, crouching down and looking me in the eye. “You had come here!”
“It was an accident!” I yelped at the curtain. “My…ow! I fell off the ship into the water—you think I wanted to come to your caves? Ah-h!”
Yet another foot slammed into me and wiped away 5% of my health.
The elders murmured approvingly, patting my executioner on the shoulders. The fact that he wasn’t wearing anything on them made it sound like applause.
“Your endure,” the leader said maliciously. “Five drogters left and then your walk crooked passages! If your can…”
The elders guffawed loudly and started giving advice to the one next in line to take a run at my behind…
***
“Now your will definitely know not walk around caves,” the leader explained as we walked somewhere—I didn’t know where—along the streets of the drogter city. It was a game, and my butt, obviously, didn’t hurt, but I was thoroughly embarrassed. Once they’d finished with me, the leader even made me bow to the curtain and thank that damned Eye of the Master for the lesson he’d taught someone as stupid as me. I said it through gritted teeth, though inside I was swearing to myself that I’d find him and get even. Maybe even in real life. It wasn’t the kind of thing you forget.
“Your stop, we here.” The leader came to a halt near a tent and stuck his head inside it. “Khritt! Your home?”
Out of the tent came a familiar figure: the sorcerer…or shaman? He was probably a shaman, at least judging by the staff I’d already seen and the tambourine hanging on a pole sticking out of the tent. He was presumably relaxing after his hard labor, as he was wearing nothing more than a loincloth. I had an excellent view of the assortment of tattoos covering his body. On the left side of his chest was some kind of winged creature surrounded by an inscription, on the right were five rings linked by barbed wire, there were enormous stars on his shoulders, and toward the lower part of his stomach he had a human girl in armor poised to dive below his belt. When he saw me studying him, the shaman grinned and turned around so I could see his back. Facing me was a monumental picture of the entrance to a cave, mine, or maybe just a pit, and the whole thing was drawn with incredible skill and detail. I could see carts, wheeled by prisoners, picks, and even large rats—and the whole thing was accompanied by an explanatory note. It was intriguing, though I couldn’t understand a word. The shaman wiggled his shoulder blades, and the prisoners twitched as if heading off somewhere. Maybe to chase the rats away?
Sicilian Defense Page 22
