by Peter David
There was also the largest cat I had ever seen. In my life, I had encountered occasional oversized felines wandering the forests, but this was as nothing I had ever experienced. It appeared to be at least six feet from fearsome maw to whipping tail, perhaps longer. Even in the dimness of the night, I could see its fur was orange with black stripes winding around its body.
The most important cage, however, was the one occupied by Mordant.
Presuming it was Mordant, of course. It could simply have been any drabit, although it certainly bore a striking resemblance to him. He was on a perch similar to the one the eagle was on, the difference being that there was a thin but sturdy chain anchoring him to it. His neck was fully extended, and he was screeching loudly in the way that I’d heard him from deep in the forest.
The reason for his upset, beyond the fact that he was imprisoned, was immediately evident. There was a slim young man there, clearly in the process of trying to free Mordant from his cage. He was crouched on the side of the cage, perched on it batlike, and he’d been clearly trying to pry a thick padlock off the gate with a curved bar. Clearly the caravan had been moving and he’d clambered aboard the cage, trying to bust open the lock and free Mordant with no one the wiser. But obviously someone had noticed him.
The young man had his black hair tied up in the customary topknot. He was dressed entirely in black, wearing a loose-fitting jacket and equally loose pantaloons. His face was round and looked to be gentle by nature, but now it was twisted in a fierce and defiant expression, shouting rapidly at the men who were advancing on him.
And there were quite a few men. Close to a dozen, and they were coming in from all sides, looking and sounding well and truly pissed off.
It was all painfully clear what was transpiring. This was some sort of traveling circus, and the young fellow had—for reasons of his own—been endeavoring to free Mordant from it.
Presuming it was Mordant.
My natural instinct, of course, was to refrain from risking myself. I saw no sign of Sharee, and if this truly wasn’t Mordant, then there was no point in putting my own life on the line by trying to intercede. It was not, after all, as if I were some great brawny barbarian who could go sweeping into the middle of the situation and lay them low with my terrible swift sword. I was who I was, and who I was wasn’t about to hurl himself into the midst of danger unless absolutely necessary.
Suddenly the small dragon’s head whipped around, and even from the distance I was standing, I could see his nostrils flaring. He was sniffing the air as the young man continued to exchange angry words with the circus folk. And then the diminutive winged creature screeched out “Apropos!” in such a way that it might well have sounded like some curious anomaly of an animal cry to the casual listener. But to me, it was my name clear as day, and I could even see that he was now looking straight at me in my place of concealment.
It was Mordant all right, and if I was going to find out how in the world he had come to be in Chinpan—and where Sharee might be—I was going to have to do something to get him out of there myself.
Despite the lameness of my leg, I was capable of moving with a good degree of stealth when the situation warranted it. This seemed to be one of those times. Sticking to the lengthy shadows, keeping low, I moved toward the halted caravan even as the angry circus men surged forward and grabbed the young man off the cage holding Mordant prisoner.
The young man, however, was not prepared to go quietly. Somehow he managed to shake free, and was standing several feet away from the circus men. The assortment of fearsome, burly men advanced on him, and suddenly he was in motion. His hands and feet moved with such speed that it was impossible for me to follow. As they grabbed for him, he deftly dodged between each thrust, finding key points such as the crotch or throat to strike with devastating kicks or powerful forward thrusts of his fingers.
It was amazing how quickly opponents were going down. Some, however, were able to meet his attacks with deft defenses and thrusts of their own. He was doing well, but there were too many of them. Sooner or later, they were going to bring him down and, very likely, beat him to a bloody pulp.
His fate didn’t concern me too much, but Mordant’s was definitely of interest. While the athletic young man kept everyone else busy, I made my way around to the rear of the carts.
The big cat looked at me with interest as I approached his cage. He raised his head, and I slid open one of the hidden compartments in my staff. Studying the padlock, I was immediately able to withdraw the proper lock pick for the job from the assortment I maintained in there for just such situations. I slid the wire in, made some deft movements, and the lock snapped open.
I yanked it clear of the cage, the door swung open, and the huge cat completely changed its attitude. It leapt out of the cage and hit the ground, landing lightly despite its bulk. It fixed its gaze on me, its yellow eyes narrowing, and then it opened its maw and bared a set of teeth that could have torn me to bits. A full-throated roar ripped from its throat, and at that moment I suddenly concluded this might not have been one of my brightest ideas. I had thought of the beast as primarily a means of a large distraction. Because it had looked so placid, I didn’t consider it a serious danger. Seeing it out, I realized I’d woefully miscalculated.
I backed up, starting to reach for my sword, and realized with sinking heart that I would not be able to pull it clear from the scabbard before the cat was upon me. Then abruptly there were alarmed cries from some of the circus folks, and the shouts instantly captured the great beast’s attention. Whatever the animal’s opinion of me, I was far too recent an acquaintance to sustain its full interest. Instead its fierce brain remembered its captors, the ones who had captured it and kept it prisoner for who knew how long. There was obviously no love lost in that relationship. It might even have been that its keepers were abusive to it during its captivity.
If that was the case, “forgive and forget” was most definitely not in the beast’s philosophy.
The cat voiced another roar, twice as loud as the previous one, and sprang. There had to be a distance of twenty feet between us and the cat’s prey, and the animal covered it in one powerful leap. It landed squarely on the back of one of its keepers, who was standing there rooted to the spot by the cat’s fearsome battle cry. The most he was able to accomplish in terms of self-defense was to bring up his arms and try to ward the animal off. This worked not at all as the great cat drove him to the ground. It sank its huge teeth into the man’s face and pulled, growling with satisfaction deep inside its throat as blood jetted all over.
There was more shouting and confusion, and although most of the circus men were running as fast as they could, several noticed me and advanced, shouting and drawing daggers, which they brandished fearsomely. The time for subtlety was over. I yanked out my bastard sword, turned, and smashed open the nearest padlock.
The men froze as the huge black-and-white bear lumbered to freedom. I waited for it, like its formidable cousins, to rear to its feet and launch an unstoppable attack. The creature’s bulk was gargantuan. It could probably flatten anyone there.
The bear glanced left and right, then promptly waddled off toward the forest.
That was all the men needed in the way of incentive to charge at me. I swung the heavy blade at another lock, breaking this one off as well. The monkey leaped out of its cage, chattered and squawked, and then bounded toward its erstwhile captors with the clear intent of killing them.
One wouldn’t have thought a monkey to be all that much of a threat. But between the surprising strength it displayed, and the limberness of its moves as it scrambled all over its victims, it was a holy terror, screeching and tearing with its teeth and breaking body parts with its small but powerful fists.
Within minutes I had all the beasts but Mordant free, which was nicely ironic considering he was the only one I was genuinely interested in. Throughout the rest of the camp, people were running about like lunatics, trying to stay ahead of the great
cat or in a vain endeavor to recapture some of the animals. Neither goal was being achieved. The prime concern seemed to be the great cat, whom the men were trying to surround, using what appeared to be pitchforks, while simultaneously endeavoring to stay clear of the sweeping talons that had already eviscerated two of them. The eagle was hanging about, calmly picking apart one of the corpses, and was in the midst of devouring a small, dainty bit of internal organ. The bizarre scaled thing had unfurled itself, tumbled out of the cage, and promptly curled back up in a ball again. The monkey had taken up station atop one of the wagons and was defiantly throwing its own feces at whoever was coming near, a dazzling trick that I filed away for future use in a particularly dire situation.
Ever the pragmatist and never losing sight of an opportunity, I saw that a few of the corpses had upon them small leather purses dangling from their belts. How comforting to see that, in Chinpan as well as anywhere else, money was carried by the same easily recognizable means. It was the work of mere moments to divest the bodies of their assets, and I did so with clear conscience. After all, I’d thought nothing of robbing people while they were alive when I was in times of need. So why should I hesitate to take from those who clearly were never going to be using their funds for future purchases?
The young man and Mordant had been forgotten as the larger creatures were being dealt with. I made my way over there quickly to see the young man with a dagger jammed into the padlock, trying in futility to pick it. I gave him high marks for effort, but he clearly had no idea what he was doing.
He saw me coming, yanked the dagger out of the lock, and struck a defensive pose. At the same time, his brow furrowed as he studied my face, obviously unsure what to make of me.
“Mitsu! It’s all right! He’s a friend… in a very broad sense of the word,” Mordant snapped at him. If there had been any doubt remaining that this was the talking mini-dragon of my acquaintance, that certainly put it to rest.
“Back away,” I said sharply, and the one called Mitsu did as instructed. I swung my sword. It knocked away the lock in a heartbeat, sending it clattering to the ground, and Mitsu yanked open the door.
I heard an outraged shout from behind me and whirled in time to see two of the circus men charging us, waving knives. I readied my sword, not eager for a fight, but not in a position to back away from it.
I needn’t have concerned myself. Mitsu somersaulted through the air as if he were being hoisted on strings, and landed squarely with one foot in each of the men’s faces. They went down and Mitsu ricocheted off them…
…and found himself face-to-face with the great cat.
Obviously the animal was being indiscriminate in its destruction. It was a short distance away, even shorter than the space I’d seen it clear with one simple thrust of its mighty limbs. I knew it would take no effort on its part to leap upon Mitsu, and whatever selfdefense tricks Mitsu obviously had at his disposal, they weren’t going to do much good against a beast of such power.
Suddenly Mordant swept forward, perching upon Mitsu’s shoulder. His head was extended all the way forward on his slim neck, and he screeched at the great cat in a series of guttural noises that sounded impressively like communication. The cat’s tail twitched, then pointed straight outward, its gaze never leaving Mordant. Then, slowly, the tail drooped down, relaxing, and the orange striped cat made a noise that could have been taken as something akin to acquiescence. It turned its back to us and went off in search of other prey.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Mordant. “It may change its mind.”
“What did you say to it?”
“It doesn’t translate,” Mordant informed me.
I had a hundred questions, but they could all wait until we made it back into the woods. Behind us we left a symphony of roaring and chittering and squawking and screaming, a most pleasant agglomeration considering that none of the noises involved—the screaming in particular—were originating with us.
A short distance ahead of us, I heard crashing and my horse whinnying. I didn’t like the sound of that at all. There was every possibility that the great cat had doubled back ahead of us somehow, and was in the process of devouring my steed. It wasn’t as if I’d grown particularly attached to the animal, but I wasn’t looking forward to walking the rest of the way to Taikyo. But when we drew near, I almost had to smile upon discovering the black-and-white bear seated contentedly on the ground, chewing on a bamboo tree, leaves, wood, and all. My horse was standing nearby, watching with obvious confusion. The bear had startled it; however, once it was clearly established as being no threat, the horse was content to watch it devour the tree at a leisurely clip.
Then the horse saw Mordant and immediately began to make more sounds of alarm. I crossed as quickly as my lame leg would allow me over to the startled animal and soothed it with soft, clucking noises. Eventually the poor creature calmed, which was an achievement. Between the bamboo-eating bear and the small dragon, this poor horse was having one hell of a night.
“I think we’d best get out of here,” I said, glancing around. I hadn’t been doing much traveling at night, and since I didn’t dare head back down to the road for guidance, I wasn’t entirely certain which way to go.
“Where are you headed?” Mordant asked.
“Taikyo,” I replied.
“It’s that way. Come. We’ll bring you.”
“No, we won’t,” Mitsu said abruptly. It was the first time I’d heard him speak in something vaguely approaching normal conversational tone… that was to say, not shouting challenges or curses. His voice was light but strong, as if he had undercurrents of untapped strength.
Mordant was positioned on Mitsu’s shoulder. Now he hopped off and landed on a branch so he could face Mitsu more easily. “We’ve discussed this, Mitsu,” Mordant said firmly. For a creature who was once reticent, he’d certainly become quite chatty.
“Listening to you telling me what I should do isn’t a discussion,” retorted Mitsu.
“Excuse me,” I said, “I would love to hear the continuation of this discussion, provided it wasn’t boring me to death. I’d like to get going before those fools come after us and make our lives more difficult than they need to be. Mordant, you said you knew the way.”
“Yes,” said Mordant, and then he turned and leveled his gaze upon Mitsu. “Are you coming?”
“No,” Mitsu said.
“Fine. Apropos, this way.” He bounced off the branch, his wings beating the air, and landed some feet away.
I climbed astride my horse and we started off, and then from behind Mitsu called in obvious annoyance, “You’re not just going to leave me here?”
“I can’t force you to come,” Mordant said, sounding quite reasonable about it. “Stay if you want, come along if you want, head off in a different direction entirely. It’s up to you.”
Once more we started in the direction of Taikyo, or at least the direction as claimed by Mordant. I heard an impatient stomping behind us, and then Mitsu started following us. “Friend of yours?” I asked, indicating the trailing Mitsu with a tilt of my head.
“Not exactly.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but he reminds me a bit of a certain princess I used to know, insofar as his attitudes. Is he a prince?”
“No,” sighed Mordant.
“Well, too bad. With that kind of attitude, being royalty was his best bet for not getting the shite kicked out of him. But enough of him. Where is Sharee? Is she with you?” I was trying to maintain a neutral, even casual tone. I was doing my best to keep excitement out of my voice.
Unfortunately I don’t think I was all that successful, because Mordant looked at me with a bit of a smirk. “You miss her, don’t you.”
“No, I don’t miss her. I’m just intensely curious to know. For gods’ sake, drabit,” I insisted, “I did experience some adventures with the woman. Naturally I’m interested to know how things turned out. This quest you went on with her. Has she come here because of it? Is she
at Taikyo? How much of a coincidence would that be, eh?” I wasn’t quite able to keep the growing excitement from my tone, and I was beginning not to care. “Sometimes… sometimes things come together, Mordant. You don’t think they will, but they do. It almost makes you believe in—”
“She’s not here, Apropos. The quest is over.”
“Over? Well… how went it, then? Successful?”
I wanted to hear that it wasn’t, of course. I wanted to hear that that fool weaver, Rex Reggis, had led them to disaster and humiliation. Wouldn’t that be glorious?
“We…” Mordant cleared his throat as he continued to hop from tree to tree. He could have simply flown alongside, but I think he appreciated the exercise after being cooped up in that cage. “We, uhm… well, not to sound immodest, but… we saved the world.”
“How now?” I couldn’t quite credit what I was hearing. “You did what? Saved the what?”
“The world. In its entirety. Surely you must have noticed.”
“Noticed? How would I have noticed?” I asked with growing incredulity.
“Well, the final battle, Apropos. It was grand, on an epic scale. Or epic on a grand scale, take your pick. I won’t bore you with the details…”
“Thus earning my undying gratitude,” I assured him.
“…but the bottom line is that Rex, Sharee, the others, and I faced odds beyond imagining. We didn’t all make it, but those of us who did will be able to tell our grandchildren about the day and night of great darkness, when living lightning nearly consumed the planet…”
