Jason Cosmo

by Dan McGirt

  “But can you handle me?” said Merc.

  The Black Bolts began to mutter curses. Dylan raised his hand to silence them and addressed the Huntsman. “We would appreciate any assistance you could offer in apprehending the wizard.”

  “How great would this appreciation be?”

  “Ten percent of our fee.”

  “Sixty.”

  “Done.”

  “Then make it eighty.”

  Dylan scowled. “Very well,” he said testily.

  “Hold the other one for me,” said the Huntsman, turning to confront Merc. At Dylan’s signal, four Bolts dismounted and drew their swords eagerly.

  “Who is he?” asked Dylan.

  “Jason Cosmo,” said the Huntsman as he closed with Merc. The mercenaries suddenly looked less eager. They mounted up again, and Dylan had to signal twice before all his men reluctantly dismounted and surrounded me. Evidently, they had not yet connected Mercury with the Jason Cosmo rumors they must have encountered all across northern Brythalia. Or perhaps they had thought the rumors a dodge by Merc to throw them off the scent. In any event they didn’t seem to recognize me from that night in Whiteswab or their fear would not have been so great.

  Playing on that fear was my only hope. It was time to join the trend of boastful talk in combat. I slashed the air with my sword and forced a contemptuous laugh. “I suppose slaying those giant wolves with my bare hands was enough of a warm-up for you clowns. Who’s first?”

  No one volunteered. I started forward, praying the mercenaries were scared enough to give way. Those nearest me did back up a step or two. I decided not to press my luck.

  “I’m waiting,” I said, halting my progress and trying to look fearsome. My bleeding wounds and tattered armor helped.

  “We’d rather handle Boltblaster, sir,” said one of the soldiers to Dylan.

  “You cowards!” raged the Black Bolt commander. “Take him! He’s only one man!”

  “So is Boltblaster,” muttered another mercenary. They didn’t move. I had achieved a temporary standoff. How long it would last depended on the outcome of Merc’s duel with the Red Huntsman.

  It was an uneven fight. Mercury was fast, but the Huntsman was both quick and strong. His blade traced silver ribbons in the air and Merc had to dodge and skip to avoid it. Warding off the Huntsman’s attacks gave him no chance to mount one of his own. If it continued like this, the bounty hunter would eventually wear him down.

  “Surrender now and I’ll go easy on you,” said Merc.

  “You are mine.”

  “I thought it was Cosmo you wanted.”

  “I will attend to him when I finish you.”

  The Black Bolts sighed with relief at that news. All they had to do was hold me at bay while the Huntsman finished Merc. The bounty hunter had already cut the wizard thrice in this exchange and taken only one small wound in return. I was getting worried.

  Then I got just the diversion I needed to turn the tide. Sapphrina rose unexpectedly from the water at the edge of the lake, her soaked blue tunic clinging selectively to her body and exposing enough of her curvaceous legs and ample bosom to catch any man’s eye. Her golden hair hung wetly around her face, giving her the allure of a siren. In a husky, forceful voice she demanded, “Who dares disturb the dread Goddess of the Lake?”

  To me it was obvious she had swum into the lake to escape the wolf and had returned to help Merc and me from our predicament. The Black Bolts, however, had no way of knowing that she was not truly an angry deity from the depths of this perhaps sacred cattle pond. They fell back in confused amazement, invoking their own gods for protection. One even dropped to his knees in supplication.

  I pressed my advantage, screaming like a wounded dragon and leaping forward to transfix the nearest mercenary on my sword. I yanked the weapon free and lopped off the head of a second man before they were all out of range except for the kneeling one. I killed him as he tried to stand.

  I had slain a third of their number in seconds, confirming the Black Bolts’ fear of me. The survivors hurried to mount up and get away, heedless of their mission or Dylan’s curses. I got another one as he hopped beside his mount, having tangled his foot in the stirrup through haste.

  The Huntsman saw what was happening and said, “The wench is no goddess, fools! Hold him!”

  It was too late. Their panic was complete. As his four remaining men galloped away to the east, Dylan dismounted to face me.

  “I don’t fear you,” he spat. “Or your muck goddess.”

  “You should,” I said, standing my ground and hoping he wouldn’t actually attack me. It would all be over then. Sweat drenched my palms and my hand was stiff from clenching my sword as tightly as a drowning man does a passing log.

  “Come and taste steel,” said Dylan, his voice cracking.

  He was bluffing in the face of my bluff. I decided to call him on it. “Dylan, I think you’re a coward seeking to redeem yourself for past failures by pretending to face me while you wait for the Huntsman to finish Merc and save you from the certain death I will give you.”

  That hit home. Dylan’s eyes went wide with fear and he hastened to mount up and follow his men. I turned to attack the Huntsman, not pausing to consider that he was a far more dangerous foe than Dylan. I wasn’t thinking now, just reacting to the sight of Mercury in danger.

  I rushed the Huntsman from the flank, only to have him casually disarm me with an intricate flash of his blade. He barely glanced at me, returning his full attention to Merc before my sword even hit the ground.

  The brief instant it took him to unarm me, however, gave Mercury an opening at last. He lunged. That, unfortunately, what just what the Huntsman expected Merc to do and he deflected the attack at the last instant. Merc’s weapon spun away as mine had, leaving him defenseless.

  “Yield, wizard, and live. I want Cosmo.”

  “He is under my protection,” said Mercury.

  “Then you perish.”

  “Wrong!” said Merc. “Spiritual lightning!” Bolts of blue lightning leaped from his fingertips like a more powerful version of the blue bolt of death he had used in Grimmel. The crackling streams of energy struck the Huntsman, driving him to his knees as they electrocuted his soul. “You made the mistake of talking when you should have finished me. Now we fight on my terms.”

  “Your spiritual lightning won’t stop me,” The Huntsman proclaimed, rising anew. Smoke curled from the holes in his mask. Mercury redoubled the attack and knocked him to the ground again. Again the Huntsman rose. “My… will… is… strong,” he insisted, though he was obviously in great pain.

  “My spells are many,” said Merc. He extended his arms and spoke rapidly and forcefully in an arcane tongue while making odd and intricate gestures with his hands. The ground beneath the Red Huntsman boiled like soup in a kettle, churning up thick black and brown soil, hidden stones, and disoriented earthworms. Trying to keep his footing, the Huntsman pitched forward as the ground dissolved beneath him. He stumbled as the seething of the soil grew wilder, obscuring his sinking, flailing form in a towering spray of earth.

  “Boltblaster! No! Curse you, wizard!” screamed the Huntsman before his voice was totally muffled. The disturbance gradually subsided until the patch of ground looked like any other freshly plowed spot. The Red Huntsman was gone, buried alive.

  Mercury stumbled and I rushed forward to catch him.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

  “Why? Are your wounds troubling you?”

  “No, wizards heal quickly. It’s automatic ”

  “The energy of casting the spell—was it too much for you?”

  “No, I’ll be fine when I catch my breath. I’m just out of practice. I haven’t done any casting so powerful in quite a while.” He stepped away from me.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He waved his hand and the sunshades flew into place on his face. “Do you remember why I don’t use my more powerful magic? The Society
might get a fix on my position. The Huntsman thought I would surrender rather than risk that. His mistake. But we had best get away from here quickly.”

  Sapphrina came to my side and I put my arm around her. “Good thinking, O Goddess of the Lake.”

  “Thanks.” She leaned closer and her lips almost met mine, then she stiffened. “Where’s Rubis?”

  I recalled the sight of two huge wolves pursuing her into the trees. My thought must have showed in my face, for Sapphrina took on a look of horror. “No,” she said, shaking her head in fearful denial, “No!”

  We all ran for the trees, our wounds and fatigue forgotten amid urgent concern for our missing companion. I reached the copse first and found the torn remains of Rubis’s horse. Beside it were the lifeless bodies of the two wolves, with no visible wounds upon them. There was no sign of the girl herself.

  Sapphrina blanched at the sight of the dead animals. “Where is she?” she said, a note of hysteria in her voice. “Rubis!”

  “Up here!” called her sister from above. She was perched in the lower branches of an oak, clinging tightly to the trunk of the tree, her body quaking, her face stained with tears of fright. I noticed deep claw marks gouged into the bark lower down. The back of her tunic was missing, torn away. Rubis clambered to the ground and embraced her sister with tearful relief.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “They downed my horse and chased me up this tree—then fell over dead,” said Rubis.

  Merc knelt and examined the bodies. He plucked a tiny silver dart from one wolf’s neck and held it up for me to see. It bore the emblem of a black crescent moon.

  “BlackMoon is here,” he said. He sniffed the dart. “It’s coated with Wolfaway, a poison particularly toxic to wolves.”

  “What do you mean BlackMoon is here?” I asked.

  “He’s hiding among these trees right now, watching us and listening to every word we say.” I drew my sword and snapped my head to and fro. “Forget that,” said Merc, laying a restraining hand on my arm. “If he wanted to kill us, we’d all be dead. BlackMoon is subtle, an artist of the hunt. He won’t come for you until he thinks the circumstances are aesthetically perfect. I think he killed these wolves to frustrate the now-dead Huntsman and give fair warning that he’s on our trail.”

  I glanced at Rubis. “Whatever his motives, I’m glad he was here.”

  Before we could make further comment a shadow seemed to pass over the sun and the air grew thick and oppressive around us. I felt as if a million eyes were watching me, their foul gaze probing beneath my skin, violating the inner core of my being. It was a sensation like that of bathing in a pool of maggots and I could see by their expressions that the others felt it too.

  “The Mirror of Ouga-Oyg,” whispered Merc. “He has us in his sights.”

  Dark clouds from nowhere were gathering directly overhead, though the rest of the sky remained clear. The temperature abruptly dropped and a stiff breeze knifed through the trees.

  “Are your wounds serious?” asked Merc.

  “No. They just look that way. Ladies?”

  “We’re fine,” said Sapphrina, still cradling her shaking twin.

  “Then let’s go,” said Merc. “I don’t want to be here when that hellish little thundercloud breaks,” He whistled, and four of the horses of the fallen Black Bolts trotted over to us. We mounted up and rode rapidly southward.

  An hour passed without incident. But looking back from time to time, I saw the cloud front over the pond pursuing us as relentlessly as the Huntsman’s wolves.

  “What is it?” I asked Merc.

  “Something unpleasant, I’m sure.”

  “What happens when it catches us?” asked Sapphrina.

  “We can’t let that happen,” said Merc. “We can’t afford to stop riding for even a moment because truthfully I have no idea what will happen when that cloud catches us. I just know we won’t like it.”

  We rode hard for the rest of the day, feeling Ouga-Oyg’s foul gaze upon us every instant. Already sore from the battle with the Huntsman and the Black Bolts, my muscles burned with silent agony. By dusk we had covered nearly forty miles and our horses were at the verge of death. We dared not push them—or ourselves—any further. Yet we dared not stop.

  “Halt!” said Merc, as his horse stumbled and fell. The nimble wizard landed on his feet. The girls and I reined our grateful horses in and dismounted. We had bottomed the last of the rolling northern hills an hour ago and now stood at a crossroads on a broad flat plain. Oddly, there was no settlement here, though we saw the lights of a small town several miles to the east. The only construction nearby was a low stone wall around a well from which the girls drew water while Merc and I conferred.

  “The west road loops south of Rumular and joins the main thoroughfare to Rae City. The south road is a little used byway that runs seventy-five miles straight to Raelna.” Merc glanced at the advancing cloud, still some ten miles behind us. It stood out in the gathering gloom as a blot of blackness darker than darkness. “I’m certain that cloud is from the Demon Lords. We cannot allow it to catch us during the night, for demonic power is strongest in the dark. If we can reach Raelna, we may escape it. Raelna is a land favored by The Gods. Ouga-Oyg’s Mirror has no power to spy in that kingdom and it is through the Mirror that the Hellmasters guide the cloud.”

  “We can’t go any further. The horses are spent.”

  “I know. And so are you and the girls. I’m not because wizards do not tire in the same way other people do, but even I am greatly fatigued.”

  “So what do we do? Make a stand here?”

  “Hell no. We go on. Ride all night.”

  “How? Can you banish our fatigue with magic?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” He reached under his cloak and withdrew a black leather pouch. Within it was a wad of dried leaves.

  “Leaves?”

  “Mulka leaves. The Malravian berserkers chew these leaves to make themselves mighty in battle. The juice acts as a powerful stimulant which blocks all pain and fatigue for up to several hours. I carry a supply for emergencies such as this.”

  “Mulka is forbidden,” said Sapphrina. “At least in Zastria. Like poppychew and hemphash root.”

  “Yes,” agreed Merc. “And with good reason. Aside from inducing phantom lightshows and other visions, mulka can kill. It can make your heart beat so fast it bursts in your chest. It can make us so euphoric we forget why we took it. The risk is great, but it’s the only escape I see. I don’t want that cloud to overtake us in the dark.”

  “It will kill the horses,” said Rubis.

  “Probably. But we need them. Even with the mulka we can’t make it on foot. We need to decide our course quickly. Ouga-Oyg hears every word we’re saying.”

  “Let’s do it,” I said. “It’s our only hope.” The girls nodded grimly.

  “Okay.” Merc gave each of us a portion of the mulka leaves and fed some to each of the horses. The animals flared their nostrils and whinnied wildly.

  I put my leaves in my mouth and chewed, swallowing the juice. The taste was bitter, like coffee brewed from sawdust, but the effects were almost immediate. I felt new energy coursing through my limbs like a warm liquid fire. My senses grew sharper, sight and hearing and smell and touch honed to razor keenness. This made the malignancy of Ouga-Oyg’s attention twice as palpable. It didn’t bother me. I didn’t care if all the demons of all the Hells were gazing upon me. I felt no fear as I gulped down great lungfuls of air and my heart hammered thunderously within my breast.

  “Let’s go,” said Merc.

  I seemed to float into the saddle. My mount surged forward with the grace of a swan and the power of a charging bear. We flew along the south road like we were racing through a dream, the landscape whipping past in an endless blur. Sapphrina rode beside me with rapture on her face. Rubis was just ahead of me, shouting wild and joyful gibberish. Merc was in the very forefront, his cape flowing out behind him like a sail.
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  I had no awareness of the passage of time or miles as we rode our endless ride across that broad, dark plain. When dawn finally caught us, the cloud wasn’t far behind. We slowed our pace to a jerky stagger as the sun rose and the effects of the mulka began to wear off. We were passing through a narrow band of light forest less than five miles from the Raelnan border. The land was starting to rise again, curving gently upward into a ridge of low, sloping hills.

  The cloud was a mere hundred yards behind us, radiating violence and malice that beat at our ever-deadening senses like hard iron mallets. When it finally caught us the sky darkened in a matter of seconds, blotting out the new sun.

  “This is it!” said Merc.

  Our horses halted suddenly and reared back as a curtain of flame sprang up from the road and quickly encircled us.

  “We can ride through it!” I said hoarsely.

  “No!” screamed Merc. “It’s demon fire! It will destroy you instantly!”

  The horses bucked and neighed with terror as they gathered in the center of the circle. We had to fight to stay in the saddle.

  “If that’s demon fire, where’s the demon?”

  The answer boomed down from above. “Here I am, little man!” The demon was twenty feet tall, pitch black and muscular, hovering over us with the aid of huge red bat wings. Smoke and fire flowed from its nostrils and it bore a flaming scythe.

  “You certainly look the part,” I said. The twins screamed once in unison, then fell silent, trembling.

  “I am Babbadabbas of the Deepest Pit! I will bring you all as broken prizes to my masters below! I will flay your living flesh from your bones, little men, and take my pleasure on the flesh of your women! I am your doom!”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve made your objectives clear,” said Mercury. I drew my sword. We were ready to fight this hellish terror with all our might.

  Babbadabbas laughed. “Your weapons are useless!”

  “Does he speak in nothing but exclamations?” I asked.

  “Annoying, isn’t it?” said Merc. “But he does have a point. A sword is useless in this instance.”

  “You have a better idea?”