True Words
, the monster was going to just keep talking forever."Wait wait," Freetrick held up his hands, then flinched back from the frost-white skin and the claws. "The Academic Government is
deporting
me?"
"You
are
the focus of all evil in this world, Malevolence," Mr. Skree pointed out.
"The hell I am." Freetrick spun around and thrust his arms into the wreckage of his bed sheets to extract his magic mirror. "I'm going to deal with this right now."
He traced the runes of the initializing spell on the mirror. "I'm calling the Proctors." He traced the runes spelling the true word for 'help' on the surface of his mirror. "If you won't get out of here on your own grand high evil so and so's say-so,
they'll
get this sorted...ugh!"
This time the mirror didn't even bother with error messages. Blackness grew across its surface like a virulent mildew. Then, while Freetrick scrubbed frantically at the rushing corruption, the device shuddered, emitted a shrill feedback squeal, and cracked in two.
Into the shocked silence that followed came Mr. Skree's voice. "Thus are all enemies brought low before the Seed of the First God."
"You!" Freetrick glared at Mr. Skree, "You did this. Undo it."
"The merest whims of the Ultimate Fiend are as laws of nature unto those who writhe in his shadow," said the monster.
"Get," Freetrick felt lighting crackle across his eyes, "out."
Mr. Skree bowed like a hanged man being dropped from a gallows. "Very good, Malevolence." A hiss of indrawn breath, "and may the lids be flensed from the living eyeballs of this pitiful servant for suggesting that anything but the wrath of the gods themselves could limit the powers of the Ultimate Fiend, but if his Malevolence were to accompany his unworthy servant to the courtyard outside, he would be placed in a better position to argue his case with the temporal authorities of this pitiful Do-Gooder nation."
As rattled as he was, it took a full second of blinking imbecile staring before Freetrick actually decoded the utterance. "There are Proctors outside?" Well, of course there were. There was probably an entire platoon of Proctors out there, guns and spells ready to blow this monster away! "Fine. Great. Lead me to them, Mr. Skree."
"This minion cannot presume to lead him, but if the Thief of Daylight would follow his unworthy advisor…" Mr. Skree's arms and legs twitched into motion and the dangling monster's ersatz body swayed toward the door.
Freetrick looked at his dorm room—the scorch marks, the shroud-like bed sheets, the cracked and blackened mirror—even places where he had only brushed his fingers had sprouted some sort of ash-colored fungus.
Where was he going to sleep tonight?
"Yes," Freetrick said, walking out of the room after Mr. Skree. "I'll get you out of here and then I'll figure out…everything else."
He stamped down the hall after the monster.
***
Freetrick emerged from his dorm into the bright noon sunlight of the quad.
He headed for the two upright blurs he assumed were people. People in blue uniforms? Proctors? Proctors, hopefully, sent here to take care of this mess. And thinking of which…
"Mr. Skree!"
A breath like the wind from a frozen abattoir dripped over Freetrick's left shoulder. "As always, the servant of evil, Fiend."
Freetrick spun around, then jerked backward when he saw his new monster clinging, lizard-like, to the wall of the dorm, his head stretched out on his hideously elongated neck. "Ugh! Okay, you going to deal with these guys, or---"
"Mr. Freetrick Feend!"
Freetrick looked over his shoulder and squinted. Was that one of the law enforcers raising a cupped hand to his mouth?
"Hey!" Freetrick waved. "Officer, I'm so glad you're here!" He started walking forward. "I need---"
"Halt!" The voice boomed through the Proctor's amplifier spell. "Stay where you are!"
"What?" Freetrick stopped, horrified, as the second Proctor had braced his feet, hands coming up. It looked an awful lot like he was aiming a gun.
"Do
not
approach. Do
not
attempt to speak, move, or otherwise further your incursion into the Rationalist Union." The amplified voice of the first Proctor echoed through the quad. "As the focus of an alien magical system, be advised that you
are
currently facing lethal force by Universal Science implements. Repeat: lethal force by
Universal Science
implements. Whatever protection your hostile god might give you, he, she, or it has no purview over the effectiveness of our weapons. If you do not comply with the rules and regulations of the Rationalist Union, you
will
be fired upon."
Freetrick could only stare at the blur that apparently
was
a man aiming a gun at him.
"The dishonor the Ultimate Fiend has suffered this morning will be multiplied a hundredfold and rained back upon his enemies," came Mr. Skree's assurance from the shadows behind him.
Freetrick closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could still salvage this. Fortunately, his knowledge of popular crime drama, if not his expensive education in International Relations, came to his aid. "I demand my right to definition of transgression!" Freetrick shouted at the Proctors, "with what crime am I being charged?"
The Proctor who was not preparing to shoot him turned his head to address his colleague. There was an inaudible conversation, followed by another amplified throat-clearing sound from the speaker. "Freetrick Feend, A.K.A Feerborg, Skrean Despot and Ultimate Fiend of the Kingdoms of Evil. Be aware that, as the ruler of a hostile foreign power, your status and rights as a Rationalist citizen are superseded by your status as an alien incursive. As such, you are hereby evicted from the Rationalist Union and all its territories. We have been dispatched to escort you to the border with the Kingdoms of Evil. Any further attempts to subvert the law enforcement officials of the Rationalist Union will be met with lethal force. That is all."
"Oh Lowest Ruler of the Shadows, oh Soon-to-be Ultimate Fiend of all the Kingdoms of Evil," Mr. Skree's voice slid across Freetrick's back like a cold python. "Oh He Who Eats the Light. These quivering worms will never aid their most terrible enemy, One Such as You."
"But I'm not one such as me!" Freetrick shouted at the Proctors, "I am not some kind of evil demigod!
Stop pointing that gun at me!
"
Darkness seemed to flare off his skin and the crouching Proctor jerked as if splashed with cold water.
"
You are ordered by all the powers of the gods of the nations of the Rationalist Union to desist immediately your attempts at incursion into the magical system of our nation."
The other Proctor shouted. His free hand came up in a spell-casting gesture, glowing runes arraying themselves in the air.
Freetrick staggered, his vision darkening, the tips of his fingers tingling.
"Fiend!" came a hiss from behind him. "The blood of this monster be boiled for daring to rein the well-earned wrath of He Whose Shadow is Death, but this nation's Do-Gooder god, feeble as his power may be when matched against that of the most terrible First God of Skrea, is nevertheless strong here. Though of course this squirming supplicant would dearly love to see necromancy and word-magic pitted one against the other, tactical necessity demands a retreat."
"What?" said Freetrick, head spinning, "No. Just give me a second---"
"Free! Burning libraries, Free, where the hell have you been?"
Freetrick spun around to see Istain burst out of the dorm. "Burning libraries, Free," he said again, "have you been in your room all this time?"
"I don't know," stammered Freetrick, "Istain, something is---"
But Istain shushed him and stretched his hand out to activate his tattoos and made a call.
"Zathara," he said into his glowing palm, "Yeah, it's me."
"You there! Step away from the alien incursive!"
"What? I can't hear you." Istain brought his hand closer to his face, plugging one ear with a finger. "Someone's yelling. No. I've got Free out here in the parking lot."
"Istain!"
"What? Shut up a second, Free. No. He's been in his room since the explosion. Health services must have moved him here, I don't know! Just meet us." Istain snapped his fingers to deactivate his implants and looked at Freetrick. "Yes?"
"Istain." Freetrick tried to keep his voice level. "Istain, there are two Proctors over there who say they'll shoot me."
"We are authorized to use lethal force!"
Istain snorted. "What? They can't do that." He looked over the top of Freetrick's head at the Proctors, positively glowing now with anti-personnel spells. "Just because…" He focused back on Freetrick. "Why are you all white with black eyes?"
"I don't know."
"Why are you…smoking?"
"I don't know, Istain!" Freetrick shouted, "They want me to be the king of Skrea!"
"King of Who-now?"
"You! Step away from the incursive!" The Proctors yelled in the distance.
Freetrick turned to see Zathara running across the parking lot toward them. "Free, is that you? Free, we were so worried!"
Her arms were outspread. Words help him, she was going to hug him. Freetrick waved his hands in warning. "Stay away, Zathara! I can't touch you! Something horrible is going on—"
There was a flash of rainbow light from the combat runes of the first Proctor and a restraint cube projected across the ground to close over Zathara. She managed to catch herself before smashing into its inner wall, then rocked back, trapped.
"Bystander! You are informed that these measures are for your own safety," said the first Proctor. "You will be released without penalty once the threat of the alien incursive has been rem---you there, halt!" He pointed at the pair of running figures. Madene and Kendrick, Freetrick was sure.
"Let us fly from this place," a cold, dry voice whispered in his ear, "the better to plot a suitably horrific revenge for this insult."
"Burning libraries!" Istain jumped back from Freetrick. "What the hell is that thing?"
The monster's hooded eyes took in Freetrick's friends in their various stances of attack and defense. His thin lips parted. "I am ssSkreekirkaakh." Mr. Skree's neck snaked around until the face pointed at Freetrick. "Does this servant correctly assume that the Reviler of Virtue has no wish to proceed to the carriage and take his rightful place on the Skull Throne of Skrea?" Mr. Skree intoned, with only the slightest trace of frustration.
"Huh?" said Istain.
"You will cease---!" shouted the Proctors.
"No striking kidding!" Freetrick shouted back. He turned from his wall-clinging chamberlain to the law enforcers, "I'm not the king of Skrea, I'm not an alien incursive, and I'm not going anywhere."
"The wishes of the Ultimate Fiend are understood." Mr. Skree let go of the wall. There was a noise like an umbrella being turned inside-out, and the monster was gliding on enormous bat wings across the parking lot. Kendrick and Madene dodged back as he flew past them, but the Proctors, weirdly, stood down. They made no move at all as Freetrick, Istain, and Zathara walked out to meet Kendrick and Madene.
"What are you stinking
doing
?" Madene demanded, her hands once again on her hips. "Freetrick, that was a Proctor's cube, how did you even... what happened to you, Freetrick?"