The Kingdoms of Evil (82 page)

The battle was delicious, but it eventually ended. And when it had, there was work to be done.

"It says it can guide us past the settlements." The new convert they called Eagle Eye knelt in the gray dust, his hands twitching and undulating in the signs that the lizard people used in place of true speech.

The object of his interrogation, a thin and shuddering lizard, looked up at Kendrick and hissed.

Kendrick's lip curled. Could he kick it to death? On the one hand, killing the cur might lose them valuable information. On the other hand, the Covenant made it clear that it was wrong to commit even a small Evil for a greater Good, and surely allowing this thing to continue to live was Evil. Yes, but later, he decided. And not in front of the men.

"We need no guidance," said Kendrick. "The Storm has surely seen us and knows we are coming, even if the witch doesn't tell them."

Eagle Eye looked up at him, the scars sloughed-off scales turned to a nest of shadows by the lava light. "Paladin, if the Ultimate Fiend knows we are here, how can we hope to enter the Necropolis safely?" The convert's hands writhed in lizard-man sign language as he spoke, though he stilled his fingers when he saw Kendrick scowl at them.

Kendrick smoothed his expression. "We aren't attacking the Citadel of Evil because we want to stay safe," he said. "We are attacking it because that is the right thing to do. Are you Good, Eagle Eye?"

"Yes!" The ex-monster nodded eagerly.

"Good." Kendrick pointed at the injured lizard-man, sprawled in the dust by its former ally. "Now find out if that creature knows anything useful about the defenses of the Necropolis, and report to me what you learn."

The small lizard-man looked up at them and hissed. Kendrick wondered when he would have the opportunity to practice torture on it.

Shaking his head, Kendrick turned away from Eagle Eye and his vile prisoner and walked further into their camp the former nest of monsters. The nest was---had been---a disorganized collection of pits dug into the gray dust of the Bleaklands, lined with bones and the chalky tubes of lava-worm casings.

Coming down the Bulwarks, Kendrick and his party had raided monster nests that looked more like human villages, with domed huts of wood and bone. Here, though, at the center of the Maelstrom, rain never fell. The only thing to fear in the sky was attack by a flying monster, and against that threat, the lizard-men of this nest had built walls and watchtowers, again of bone and lava-worm casing. Neither fortification had protected the corrupted creatures from Kendrick.

Now his men were systematically sifting through the white-powder wreckage of the nest, setting aside food, chopping down and harvesting the lava-worms, and dragging the dead lizard-men into a central stack. Others were seeing to the wounded or keeping guard against further attack. The men who had nothing more pressing to do were praying, building up the company's reserves of Naobel's Blessing.

They had long since passed out of the god's traditional lands, of course, but a sufficiently large group of worshippers could generate an area in which Naobel's Blessing was more than superstition, even here under the very Maelstrom, itself. Indeed, some of the lizard-men had already been washed clean of their corruption by their talismans. Walking past the pile of corpses, Kendrick could see several burst skulls, malformed limbs, still-bloody wounds where scaled skin had rotted away.

"Paladin!"

Kendrick looked up from his pleasant reverie and scowled. Gerhanis was approaching, waving. "Yes?"

"Paladin. Kendrick. Do you need anything?" Gerhanis, though converted back to humanity after the rout of the Witch Tinesmurk, was nonetheless a different man from the one Kendrick had met. Kendrick had changed too, of course. He was now worthy of Gerhanis's fear.

"Yes." Kendrick jerked his chin toward the pile of bodies. "What's the status of the re-supply? How are their have stores of food?"

Gerhanis made a face. "Pretty bad, sir, I mean, Paladin. Worm jerky, of course, and some fungus powder. A few more exotic things."

The men had taken to calling him Paladin. Kendrick allowed this. "How much, Gerhanis?"

The ex-Rationalist-ex-Monster shook his head. "Not enough to feed all of us, Paladin. Not even for a day."

"Package what there is for our onward march." Kendrick ordered. "We leave after one sleep-cycle." One advantage of never seeing the sun was that it had been easy to train the men to sleep in shifts.

Gerhanis looked uncomfortably at the jumbled corpses on the ground beside them. "And the...remains of the monsters, Paladin?"

Kendrick weighed his options, as he always did. And as always, the balance came out clearly on one side. The men needed food. An army marched on its belly. And the Covenant had no word to say against what his instincts told him.

The formerly bone surface of his desk was littered with diagrams, columns of arcane calculations, and countless lines of written prayer. With a twist of one white-fingered hand, the Ultimate Fiend spun one of these last across his desk, where it was caught by Skystarke.

"Your new marching orders, gentlemen," Freetrick said, grinning. "Make everyone start copying these out."

Grimp's hoof-like fingers moved and Mr. Skree made a sort of bony rattle. Skystarke nervously ran his hand-length tongue over his fangs. Grimp's translator squeaked to itself and stared at Freetrick with enormous eyes. They had a question they wanted to ask, Freetrick knew, but didn't have time to guess their problem.

He continued with his explanation. "So, look," Freetrick reached across the table to point out a particular line on the parchment in Skystarke's hand. "this is important. Things are going to get serious today, and I need as much word-magic juice as you guys can manage to squeeze out." He looked up at the monsters for their reaction, and saw that all four were glancing nervously between him and the bedroom door to his right. "Uh…really." He tried to focus their attention. "You give me enough energy today, and the New Skrea starts tomorrow. So…" the translator let forth an agonized squeal.

Freetrick sat back in his chair and adjusted his pince-nez at the monsters. "Okay, clearly something is going on that's way more important than the revolution I'm planning, so does anyone want to tell me what that might be?"

"Horrendous morrow, monsters."

Freetrick twisted around in his chair to see Bloodbyrn sway through the door to his bedroom. She had tied one of the sheets around herself in lieu of a robe and she looked wonderful.

"Your chamberlain wants to know how much you told me, my lord," she said. "The answer to that, gentlemen, is everything."

"We stand before you, my lady," Skystarke said, after only a moment's shocked silence, "ready to be dismembered for our crimes against you and your caste."

Freetrick's train of thought, which had momentarily stopped to examine the scenery of his concubine, jolted back into motion. "She doesn't just
know
about our plans, guys, she's
in
on them." He couldn't stop the grin that came to his face as he said that. Strike it, just looking at her made him feel dizzy with happiness.

Skystarke only stared waxily, and Mr. Skree looked as if his brain was cooking with the effort of suppressing his thoughts. Only Grimp had enough wherewithal to move his hands in question. "He wants to know, fiend, what new plans the Most Horrible the Duke DeMacabre has in store for us. Of course he will want many of the new writing monsters killed—"

"If I turn you all over to my father, you mean?" Bloodbyrn snapped, "Well, what is to stop me, if you displease me, minions? For these are the Kingdoms of Evil, and the lives of the small will be ground beneath the boot heels of the mighty!" The monsters winced as she pointed a sharp-nailed finger at them. "So you miserable cretins will go back to your assigned tasks, even though it mean your death, for your lives and mine are clutched in the talons of the Ultimate Fiend."

Bloodbyrn turned an expression on Freetrick that made him want to run away, but he faced her and said, "No, Bloodbyrn. That's not the Skrea I want to make. No more melodrama, no more threats." He stood from his chair, and swept his gaze across the people assembled in his office. "We have to be able to trust each other, here."

"Oh indeed my lord?" Bloodbyrn hissed furiously, "and how shall we do that? Pledge vows to each other like the contemptible Do-Gooders? Or perhaps you simply wish to continue to undermine my authority before the servants?"

"No," said Freetrick, "I just—" But even as he said the words, Freetrick realized that he was, in fact, arguing with her. Their first lover's quarrel in the middle of the revolution? The first crack in the terrifyingly delicate shell that held them all suspended above the not-very-metaphorical-at-all pool of lava?

No. The revolution would work. More importantly, his
relationship
would work. The Ultimate Fiend intended to both survive and continue to have sex with Bloodbyrn, and so he said, "I'm just glad, Bloodbyrn, that you agreed to play the part of old Skrea while I demonstrated the new Skrea. If all goes according to plan, the threats…well that
I
told you to say, those will be the last ones the monsters will have to take seriously." Freetrick glanced at Bloodbyrn, who wasn't taking it well. Strike it, if only he could take her aside and tell her—"because
all of us
know that an empowered monster population cannot be controlled by force, only cooperated with, for our mutual benefit."

Bloodbyrn let out a tiny huff of air. Her controlled expression did not change, but her body relaxed until she no longer looked poised to rip out Freetrick's throat. "Indeed," she said, "for I stand behind my lord Feerborg and his New Skrea. I trust," her eyes flashed amber warning, "that all those gathered here understood the point my lord and I were making." The monsters and Ultimate Fiend flinched back as her gaze swept them. "In fact," she said as Freetrick opened his mouth to continue, "to convince all you…people of my commitment to our joint machinations, I should tell you my secret, deadly until we achieve our reformation."

She drew breath, very nicely filling out her bed sheet, Freetrick couldn't help but notice, "I am the owner of a kitten, and I admit to loving it. Loving her."

Mr. Skree, who had not batted an eyelid at seeing thirteen virgins murdered, nearly fell off the ceiling.

"Her name is Princess Fluff," Bloodbyrn addressed the revolutionary council, "and if you should find her, do bring her back." It wasn't until Bloodbyrn's expression hardened again that Freetrick could see how soft it had been before," I shall confirm my affection for this creature before any who ask me, and, unless we succeed in this scheme, thereby ruin my reputation."

Freetrick watched for the monsters' reaction. They, after all, stood to lose more than their standing in the community if their plans were exposed. Still, Bloodbyrn had given these four power over herself, and that fact alone might be enough to buy their trust.

The monsters glanced at each other. Presently, Grimp snorted, and his hands began to sign.

Most of the next hour was spent with Bloodbyrn and the monsters dancing threatening circles around each other. Eventually though, enlightened self-interest overcame Skrean acculturated insanity, and each party agreed that its best hopes for the future lay with the other.

"Good," Freetrick eventually said, "so I'll depend on you four to get the word out about word-magic." He indicated Mr. Skree, Grimp, and Grimp's translator. "Skystarke," he turned to his chief of guard as the other monsters filed out, "I want you to accompany Bloodbyrn and me to rescue my friend." The monster cocked an eyebrow, and Freetrick continued. "Now, we'll have to move fast because the moment anyone finds out who Istain is, they'll try to grab him themselves," he smiled, "except the person who already has him, of course. So Bloodbyrn and I have narrowed the list of possible kidnappers down to three. The problem is how do we find out which one has Istain without alerting the other two." Freetrick paused for effect, and was surprised when Skystarke opened his horrible mouth.

"Malevolence, Dark Lady," the monster said, "I won-dah if I may?"

"Go ahead, if you have any
real
suggestions," said Freetrick.

"Dark Lady, Malevolence," Skystarke cleared his throat again, "I am
nevah
averse to damage or
injury
, but if we simply attack Da-hk Lord Teirchoke first, we might avoid ow-ah
oth
-ah enemies."

"Thank you Skystarke, but Teirchoke isn't even on our list," said Freetrick as Bloodbyrn, quicker on the uptake, demanded, "What do you know, Monster?"

Skystarke's too-flexible lips writhed in confusion. "I know only what you told the Kaimeera to tell me, Dark Lady, Malevo—"

"
What?!"
Freetrick found himself out of his chair and half-way across the table, as if his body was trying to seize his captain of guard by the throat.

Skystarke looked as if he had the same impression. "Malevolence, mercy!"

Freetrick sat back into his chair, "Sorry. Skystarke, the Kaimeera hasn't told me
anything
."

"It will, however," promised Bloodbyrn. "Bring the monster to us."

Ever efficient Skystarke had the Kaimeera, in chains, on Freetrick's transformed office floor, in less than five minutes.

"I'm going on a dangerous outing today, Kaimeera, and I need death energy." Freetrick planted his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "Convince me why it shouldn't be yours."

The Kaimeera crouched low against the white floor, ears flattened and eyes nearly shut. "My only wish is to serve the Ultimate Fiend." It's voice was female again, young and Maidenspeak-accented. Apparently there were still some of those rebel women running around the castle. Or there had been.