I shrugged. “Good enough for me.”
The ravens landed on one of Iggy’s lower branches, which was still rather high. One of them had something in her beak. Her head twitched like a chicken looking for its attention span. That would be Ninny.
“Good to see you two again,” I said. “We were getting worried.”
Ninny squawked. She seemed surprised when she realized this would cause her to drop the thing in her beak.
I hopped over and picked it out of the dirt. It was a small blue bead.
“I told her it wasn’t important,” Ginny said. “But she couldn’t resist. It was entirely too shiny.”
I held the bead up between my fingers and looked at it with one eye. “Is this supposed to be…”
“A tool of the Game? I think not.”
Ninny made another loud noise.
“Oh, you be quiet,” Ginny said. “You’ve no idea what you’re squawking about.” Ginny held a wing to one side of her beak, as if it would keep the other bird from hearing her: “The poor girl thinks anything capable of reflecting the tiniest glint of light is a powerful talisman. I’ve explained the notion away a number of times, but her memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“No luck in the search, then?”
She lowered her wing. “No, unfortunately. Though the matter would be made simpler if we had even the foggiest idea what we were looking for.”
“I know. I’m sorry. We’re all working with limited information here. Just keep your eyes open, and if you come across any trinkets that look important, grab them.”
I couldn’t blame the ravens for coming up short in their task. Before Ricou’s mind had started failing, he’d mentioned briefly that there are mystical tools in this world whose powers could sway the outcome of the Game; unfortunately, he’d never gotten around to telling us how to identify them.
I quickly brought the birds up to speed on everything and explained to them the leafy carcass in the clearing. Ginny was happy to help hide the body, and Ninny would do whatever she was told so long as the instructions were simple enough. I decided to give them a hand clearing some of the leaves away before I left.
“I do hope Master Ricou finds his memories soon,” Ginny said as we worked. “We’ve no hope of winning this without him.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Have you contacted him today?”
“I’m afraid to.”
“Yes, well—were I in your position, I would be more afraid of showing up at tonight’s ritual unprepared. Especially if my only means of quick egress involved travel by land. Ninny and I are rather safe in our ability to fly off when things turn sour, but you and the wolf are not so lucky.”
That was a good thought. I was lucky to have such wise friends.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll go track him down now. You two can finish this without me?”
Ginny and I heard something that sounded like a sharp, high-pitched burp. A few yards away, Ninny gave us a stupid look, then resumed happily devouring the dead thing’s guts.
Ginny’s beak parted and curved down slightly, in what I can only assume was a bird’s look of disgust.
“Yes,” she said. “We’ll be fine, thank you. Good luck with Ricou. And do let us know if you should learn what it is my sister and I are looking for.”
I thanked her, said my goodbyes and was on my way.
Ricou’s pond was a big, dark thing surrounded on three sides by brown-leafed trees. The water there was always black, and you couldn’t see the earth beneath it, even in the shallows. Normally the opacity was a good thing for Ricou’s protection, but since I knew there was a chance my submerged master might go crazy and attack me on sight, I found myself wishing for a little more visibility.
I hopped through the golden grass and stopped a few feet away from the water. The yellow bark of the trees showed faintly in the black mirror, which soon started moving.
Quiet ripples traced the slow motion of something under the surface. It was a subtle shift, like the movements of grass around a stalking tiger; I never would have noticed if the rest of Ricou’s pond hadn’t been so deathly still.
I took a step back and called out Ricou’s name. The ripples didn’t answer, but continued drawing a line toward me from the center of the pond. I backpedaled again and felt the grass against my tail.
When I heard the trees rustling on the far side of the pond, I knew I was in trouble.
A cold October breeze came through the area and disrupted the water’s serenity. The pond shuddered under the chill wind, and I lost track of the ripples.
I should have gotten out of there—that would have been the smart thing to do. Instead, I stood and watched.
Something burst from the water and lunged at me. It was big and slimy and full of pincers, and it was certainly not Ricou.
I stumbled backwards and fell. The thing’s arms shot out at me, its lobster-claws opened wide. I shut my eyes and turned my head.
There was a loud snapping sound, and a scream.
I opened my eyes. The creature was inches away from me, sprawled out on the ground, grasping for purchase as Ricou dragged it back into the pond by its tail. When the thing was halfway submerged again, it stopped resisting and turned to fight. There was a lot of splashing, and they both went underwater.
The wind stopped. Half a minute later, so did the thrashing.
I stared into the black mirror for what seemed like an eternity. Then, inch by inch, something breached the water.
I’d recognize those mismatched eyes anywhere.
Ricou strode onto the shore. I backed up, just a little bit.
“Ricou,” I said, keeping my words slow and calm. “Are you… okay?”
He came forward, seeming somehow taller than I remembered. Just as I was getting ready to run, he lowered himself and sat before me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About the tomb.”
I let out my breath, allowed my muscles to relax some. If he could remember attacking me when we’d visited his beloved Ula, that was probably a good sign.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “Thanks for saving me.”
“That thing had been snooping around my pond for too long anyway. He had it coming.”
I hopped up and licked his face. It was probably dangerous to get that close, but I wanted to do it anyway. He responded by stroking my neck.
“We don’t have much time,” I said. “Tonight’s the night.”
“I know.”
“Do you remember what you had planned?”
He looked away.
“I remember a lot of things,” he said. “I remember how the Game works. I remember what’s at stake, and that the odds are stacked against us. What I don’t remember is how I planned to fix things.”
“What about the Banishing Wand? Please tell me you know where that is.”
“No. I’m sorry, Sai.”
The wand was the single most important thing to our side of the ritual. If we couldn’t find it before everything came together, the protectors would win by default.
“How have you been holding up?” Ricou asked.
“I’ve been fine,” I lied.
“And the others?”
“They’ve kept busy. Riss is watching the protectors, but they haven’t made any moves. Ginny and Ninny haven’t been around much lately, because they’ve been spending all their time searching for talismans.”
“Have they had any luck?”
“They don’t even know what they’re looking for. And I don’t know what to tell them, because I don’t know what qualifies something as an item of power.”
Ricou looked into the distance. His hand idly scratched between my ears.
“Talismans aren’t born with power,” he said. “They’re given power by the people who cherish them.”
As much as I appreciated the effort, Ricou’s cryptic explanation was of no help. I wanted to ask him to elaborate, but his mind was teetering on the edge of awareness as it w
as, and forcing him to think too hard on any given subject didn’t seem like a good idea.
“You seem better today,” I said.
“I don’t feel all that great.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He shook his head. “The moon’s got a hold of me. She’s the only one who can decide whether or not to let me go.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve seen you walk under plenty of full moons before, and nothing like this has ever happened.”
“That’s because you’ve never experienced one on October 31st. This is a different sort of moon—it’s what fuels the Game, and what’s calling to the fin blood inside me.”
“Then why isn’t Auntie Sixgills affected? She’s half-fin, and she’s fine—you’re only a quarter, and…” I trailed off, because I didn’t want to make things worse by questioning my master’s sanity to his face.
“Auntie Sixgills never played with magic,” Ricou said. “And she couldn’t have if she’d wanted to. Don’t get me wrong, I love my aunt, but she has the intelligence of someone who’s half-fin. The only reason I was able to study the Art is because I had the perfect balance for it: a strong human intellect to complement the dash of magic in my blood.”
“I don’t know if I’d call the balance ‘perfect,’ ” I said. “It’s left you crippled by the moon.”
I didn’t realize how harsh I must have sounded until I detected a hint of shame in Ricou’s posture. His eyes turned away, but I could still see the side of the white one—the one that had been blinded by a botched sorcerous experiment, so many years ago.
“It was the only way to give us a chance against the Old Ones,” he said.
“If the Old Ones make a personal appearance tonight, I don’t think any amount of sorcery is going to help.”
“They won’t come. They fear getting too close to the ritual that could banish them from this world. That’s why they send the protectors to conduct their business and make their sacrifices.”
“Sacrifices?” I asked. “This is the first I’ve heard about sacrifices.”
“I don’t expect it to be an issue. Sacrifices for the Game require human blood, and there hasn’t been a full-blooded human in these parts since Ula died.”
At the mention of his missing beloved’s name, Ricou became silent. I’d never known Ula, but I’d seen some of the things she’d woven on her loom and I’d heard lots of stories; she seemed like a special lady. Ricou was entranced (or perhaps haunted) by her memory, and I could understand why.
He blinked back to reality, the wet sheen over his eyes breaking. He ran a scaled forearm across his cheeks.
“You should go,” he said. “I don’t know how much longer you’ll be safe around me.”
Ricou stood, but I wasn’t ready for him to go yet—there were too many questions to be answered.
“What should I do?” I asked. “How can I help prepare for tonight?”
“You can’t. We don’t even know what I had planned.”
“So we’re just hoping you’ll remember between now and then?”
“I might. The moon is a strange mistress: harsh at times, but occasionally forgiving. All we can do is show up and be ready.
“But until then,” he said, “you should rest. If you don’t want to meet me at Iggy’s clearing tonight, I’ll understand. Do whatever seems right to you, Sai.”
He bent over and kissed me atop the head. My master disappeared into his black pond before I could say another word.
I turned and reentered the grass, not sure where I was even planning to go. I made it about three hops before Riss showed himself.
I stopped. “How long have you—”
“I heard the whole thing,” he said. “I was keeping an eye on you, just in case Ricou got in touch with his fin side.”
“Thanks, but if he’d turned on me at this point, I’m not sure I would have wanted to be saved.”
“I get what you mean—things are looking pretty bleak. Are you going to show up tonight?”
“You know I have to. If there’s even a small chance I can make a difference, I’ve got to be there.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got nothing else on the agenda. Why not check out the fireworks?”
We headed away from Ricou’s pond. The golden grass swished at our sides.
“What are you going to do between now and then?” Riss asked.
“What Ricou suggested.”
“Rest?”
I nodded. “I don’t like being idle, but I also don’t think anything I do now will have any impact on the Game. Might as well gather my strength, for whatever that’s worth.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll probably do the same, but first I want to check on the protectors one last time. I figure it can’t hurt.”
“Keep me posted on anything exciting.”
“As always, beautiful.”
The wolf ran his tongue up my cheek and was gone. I kept hopping until I found a nice, soft patch of grass, then laid down and somehow managed to stop being awake.
I didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day. I never caught up with Riss again, and the birds were predictably scarce. I couldn’t have a chat with Iggy, because his clearing was the site of the big finale, and I had a feeling the protectors would be showing up early to prepare.
According to Ricou, the Game is supposed to end with a contest of wills, as Players vie for control of the Banefire using their collected items and talismans. Still, even the best-laid plans hit their snags, and every now and then the whole thing just comes down to an old-fashioned fist-fight.
As night fell and I hopped over to Iggy’s place, I decided it didn’t matter which way the winners would be determined—we didn’t have the muscle to beat the trio in a physical confrontation, and with our only Player going crazy under the full moon, we certainly couldn’t match them on a mystical level.
But that wouldn’t stop me from showing up anyway.
When I arrived, the Banefire was already burning hot-orange in the clearing, thanks to the trio’s early work. That blaze was a neutral tool that each side required for victory, so it didn’t much matter that the protectors had been the ones to build it.
A quick scan of the area showed me I was the only one present from my team, unless you counted Iggy, who was dying.
I rushed up to him, his bark a shimmering silver-grey in the light of the nearby Banefire. Several of his lower limbs had been torn off.
His voice was weak—not the great, booming thing I was used to.
“I believe I have found my purpose, young hopper. My wood is to feed the Banefire.”
“They’re killing you!”
“If that is my fate, so be it.”
One of the trio walked up, his footsteps thundering through the ground. He was a giant, twice the height of any man, his form so dark that he seemed a walking shadow. There was a sword in his hand, a crude thing of bone, whose edge carried stray flames of the Banefire. The giant reached up and took one of Iggy’s thinner branches in one hand, and chopped it away from the tree with his weapon. There was a flash of sparks and wood chips as the limb came loose, but Iggy did not scream.
The giant tossed the branch across the clearing, over by the Banefire. Another protector—the one I recognized as their leader, from Riss’s description weeks ago—picked up the wood and dragged it into the blaze. He was a humanoid creature the color of a sockeye, his scales bright red, his piranha-head a shade of olive green. He had eyelids like a serpent’s fangs, dripping what looked like venom down his fishy face.
The third protector was somewhere on the other side of the Banefire. I couldn’t make out his shape, but I thought I saw something slithering about like a thick snake.
The giant cut a few more limbs from Iggy. The tree told me not to resist, so I didn’t.
I looked up at the moon. It hadn’t quite reached its peak, so I didn’t have to worr
y about a confrontation just yet, be it physical or otherwise. But the ritual would be starting soon, and if Ricou didn’t show up, I’d be alone.
I didn’t want to be alone.
Someone must have heard my wish.
“Riss!” I said, hopping over to the wolf as he emerged from the wheat. “Thank goodness you—”
He walked right past me. There was something in his mouth.
I followed him over to the Banefire, where he spit out the thing he’d been carrying. It was a webbed, scaly hand, its stump dripping red blood. The piranha-faced leader of the protectors picked it up, examined it, and then walked away.
“Riss,” I said, “what just happened?”
He scratched his ear with a hind paw, as if in no rush to answer. He stood and gave his body a shake.
“Possibly nothing,” he said. “After all, Ricou did say a proper sacrifice requires human blood. But hopefully Auntie’s will be potent enough to do the trick.”
I saw the leader carve some symbol into Auntie Sixgills’s palm with a ritual knife. I looked back at Riss. “I can’t believe it. You switched sides.”
“Hey, now—that’s not a nice thing to say. Especially since it’s not true. I’ve always been on their side.”
“How could you do this? How could you serve the Old Ones?”
“Because they never hunted my kind for sport. They never tried to tame us, to break us—to make wolves into their servants.”
“You’ve gone mad. Your brain’s more screwed up than Ricou’s.”
“You think this is all happening in my head? I’ve been around a lot longer than you, joey. I remember the days before the Old Ones. I remember when humans treated my kind like filth—when they treated all of us like filth. And they still do—even the ones with some fin blood in them. Have you ever been inside Auntie’s shack? Have you ever stepped on that nice, soft rug just inside the door and wondered who died to provide it? The pure-blood fins don’t care about clothing or decor or anything else that exploits our kind; it’s only the ones with a hint of humanity left in them that will kill unnecessarily.
Lovecraft eZine Megapack - 2013 Page 53
