The Last Heroes Before Judgement (27 page)

For once, I did not sleep in my armor. It was warm in the rafters, and would be throughout the night. The bed roll would not be soaked through by the morning dew, and my thick vest made for a great pillow. My mind was nearly blank, as so many secrets had fallen in to place before my very eyes. King Kane had been controlling his daughter’s power as much as everything else. He was right to first make me weak, and only then blame Lent’s speech on my loose tongue. Until I managed to prove my worth, and undeniably so, I was just another one of his puppets. Only Major Swiftblade remained absolved of such nonsense. And, once the evil Opa were slain, he would be free to hunt and eat and live without interruption. I set myself to help him in any way possible, knowing that could mean only one thing.

“How does one catch a monster? Someone must volunteer to be the bait.”

Major Swiftblade slapped me hard on the right.

“Thank you sir. May I have another?”

Again from the left.

“Thank you s-”

He pulled my hair and I grunted. Tensing in the Shaman position did nothing but cause more pain. I tried my best to remain calm and immobile. My crossed knees creaked from the intense pressure. I clamped on my drawn in ankles with such force that my feet were turning blue.

“Careful, boy. The sun is still up. Breathe...breathe...”

My heart beat was racing. In the middle of a slow draw in, I got a snake bite to the diaphragm. The Swiftblade’s two fingers dug in deeper than any pointed fangs. I opened my eyes to ensure he was not using a weapon.

“You are not bleeding. Close your eyes. Breathe!”

“Owie! B-my d-nose!”

“What was that?”

“You said you wouldn’t!”

My hand was over flowing with blood from my nose. I had to lean forward just to breathe from my wide open mouth. It made me so angry, I failed the test again. He tried to distract me with a poke to the eyes but I tucked my head just like he had taught me. His wrist chop was blocked- against the established rules. My bloody hand turned to a fist and it conjured the red shadow. Washing outwards in a wave like Caliya’s scream, the pink sky began to run over with blood. I only had time to begin a low growl before Master Swiftblade chopped both sides of my neck. My mind went blank and I did not regain the ability to think until the sun was completely set.

“Dammit! I was so close.”

“Five months, grey skin. You are wasting my time.”

“I will do better next time, sir, I promise.”

“You had better hope your cousins do not arrive before then.”

With all the energy I had left, I sighed, falling back slowly. The sunset was always such a beautiful sight to behold. The Sulfus fumes would gather in the thick mountain foliage and change the light into strange colors. And, once the disk was fully hidden, I was finally safe from the monster that struggled to claim my soul.

“Matthius.”

The Lady Dooza was whispering from the far side of the fire. I leaned up to see that she was hiding behind the dinner pot. The crazed Shaman always played such tricks on us when we were weak.

“I know you did not fall asleep on me. There will be hell to pay.”

“Ma’am. I’m right here.”

“Good. I have heard the foals bleating all day. My lines will be heavy with clucks.”

“Yes ma’am. I will be ready.”

“Let me know if you see a long tooth missing his tail and eye. Even if they were wild men, he has become a man eater.”

“Yes sir. He must be burned- I understand. Does this mean you are leaving early?”

Major Swiftblade was lost in a thought. He stood at the edge of the third tier scanning the breathe-taking valley below with a deep scowl. Our new phoenix need not even land to carry its message. He nodded, and the poor thing was made to wave its tongue out at us like a goat. Then the beast flapped hard and rushed back to a safe altitude.

“A convoy approaches.”

“Finally.”

“Yes, do tell Monster Hunter.”

He waited for the scarlet phoenix to disappear amongst the red sky and the darkness encroaching from the eastern horizon. Mother Moon was not yet at full but he had his orders. He turned back to us, still wearing his scowl. I rushed to pour his soup and pepper his sloth leg. It did nothing to break his trance.

“Charles, no one has come this way, not since...”

“The Lokah soldiers training in the Chalice, ma’am.”

“That’s right, and their merchants.”

“Yea, and they blew through the tunnel without warning. Will these visitors be stopping? Or, perhaps even, staying on for a while?”

“It is nothing. There is no inspection. I only told you that so you would scrub every crack of that cave because the stench of bat guano reminds me of my childhood.”

“That is very good, Charles. Close your eyes- take us deeper into your past. When was the first time you smelled that awful smell? Was there anyone with you at the time?”

“Shut your face Shaman.”

Major Swiftblade’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled at Dooza’s continued attempts to swim in his mind the way the Lantos could not. I was grateful to have such a powerful teacher. I thought, if only I could learn this level of mindfulness, the Swillian demon inside would be chased so far away that my damned spots might fall off.

“The Chron have a new Ambassador. No mistakes this time. You have two days, then, scrub everything. Just in case.”

“Yes sir. No mistakes this time. Just in case.”

“Ugh. I believe he was referring to your smell.”

They shared a laugh on my behalf. It was not unwarranted. The longer Major Swiftblade spent in the wild- the more Dooza put me to work. I did not protest. Thanks to his mandatory exercise regimen, and her flourishing cliff side farm, my back had grown so wide that the tapered Chron leathers appeared straight whenever I saw my own reflection. My shell was the right size for a shield and the gauntlets no longer had room to wiggle and go loose. Out in the sun all day, my skin turned a bronze that helped to hide my spots of brown and my long barbarian locks turned a shade closer to the golden brown mane of a lion. I joked it would help me gain favor with Doctor Prinn.

“Boy. You have scrubbed that dish enough times- and my lines need worms.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Dooza huffed at my absent minded nature, however, she joined me in watching Major Swiftblade thunder down the road until he was out of view. Then I got to work, letting my thoughts drift away to wherever they pleased.

I had learned the many uses of the smallest string. My pockets had gotten so full that I decided to store some in my hair, waiting for the day I found a loose feather from the plume of a mighty raptor. Unfortunately, the hillsides all around Ram’s Peak were only covered in bears and sloths. The open plains filled with bison and woolly elephants, neither of which made for easy targets. The Lady Dooza assured me that the winter freeze would send actual rams south. I saw no way for any beast to cross the giant wall of boulders that blocked their path. The stones followed the break in the mountain from our base all the way north to the glacier line. The Lantos had even purposefully introduced a wide variety of poisonous snakes and spiders to ensure certain death. She explained that they could make the climb, they simply would not survive the fall.

“When they jump, it will be on you to clean up the mess.”

She whistled and slowly dropped her hand. Then opened it to smack the ground. Because I was immune to the pox, Dooza decided that the gods had sent me to grant her a triad of relaxation. Funny, the Lokah had hired her under the impression that the Clovus were immune as well.

“Owie!”

The radial biter I was using to squeeze sap from the tree bit me for not paying attention. The sloths up above nearly dropped some dung on me for yelling out so loudly in the night. I stopped sucking the blood from my finger and held it out. No more pain, not even a scar. My hilt was finally beginning to work in the low intensity light provided by Mother Moon and she was not yet in full round. The hope was that, given enough time, the power would work during the red moon. Last time, it took all the energy I had to run for my life. I swore that it would never happen again. After some work, the radial wedged into the soft bark deep enough to drip amber resin.

“Lick the hand. Roll the worm. Stick the line. One more time!”

Over and over, I worked the resin into a long sticky worm and cut into it long ways with a densely weaved line until it was stuck dead in the center. The blue clucks would grab one in their beak and use the one below to climb to the next. Bit-by-bit, every false worm would be gone within a few hours. As well, the Lady Dooza would get to inspect a whole flock and pick out only the strongest roosters to mate with her hens. The hens stayed happy in their safe cliff top roost, and kept my belly full of fresh egg. I finished with the first line and smiled, petting my happy stomach.

“I love this job.”

The Lady Dooza was heralded as a Shaman by the Lokah. She was a hermit, agriculturalist, and naturopathic healer. In less than six months she had an entire ecosystem flourishing on the cliff top path. Her four clucking hens were fat and happy. Their shells and droppings fed the smelly worm colony. The worms, when arm’s length, would reinvigorate the soil for her herb garden in the little glass house. Some of the herbs she kept or sold as medicine, some she used to attract frogs. The ancient granite frog pond grew a living green water which was the main ingredient in the Lantos vitamin powder. And, of course, she made it look easy.

The fat flightless birds were tall as my hip and heavily muscled. Untethered, the birds were better behaved than Kru. The frogs were somehow safe, though, they were a favorite treat of the hens. Dooza named them in accordance with their behavior and they roughly translated to Dizzy, Klutzy, Frizzy, and Princess. It was a good way to name a beast, allowing for even the dumbest barbarian to tell them apart. Dizzy pined for flight. She would run along cracks in the wall flapping and glide to the ground in a controlled spin. Then she would wait for Matthius to come and carry her back to the top- only so that she could jump again. Klutzy would grab a twig and strut a few of her tiny paces. The twig would suddenly fall, making her spin around clucking hard as if some vagabond had given her a push. Frizzy was very oily and it made her feathers fray out like one giant flume. The way she posed to check her own shadow made me think that was her plan. And then, there was Princess. No one could touch her without hands that smelled like soap. One whiff of me and she snapped her face away in disgust like Nurse Leona. I did not mind. Ram’s Peak was a lonely place and each bird offered up their own distinct personalities. They were easy to handle, unless their timeline was altered. They offered a fresh and constant supply of eggs that could be baked in the shell and kept for days. However, after the last chick flew the coop and chased the distant clucks to a wild colony, you had a maximum of two months to find them a new mate. Otherwise, they would go mad from the isolation.

“Smell’s gone.”

“Good, the wind has it now.”

We laid flat on the cliff shelf to hide from view. Mint leaves were the traditional gift of a mating male so the lady clucks were pruning and nesting in anticipation. Crushed mint leaves were waiting for a lucky rooster to climb his way up the line and then the hens would get to decide in which nest he would stay for the next few days. The lines were set, running the distance of over one hundred feet to the valley floor. Each blow of the wind carried the scent and Dooza played the lines to grant the false worms the appearance of a wiggle.

“Only a few owls tonight ma’am. Could Master Swiftblade have scared them off?”

“No, no, just you wait. Right now, they are climbing out of the safety of their pile and sniffing the air.”

Dooza held her breath as the first wild cluck appeared. He was a deep shade of blue, small and wily with youth. A horned owl swooped in to claim the lad as his own, and left missing a beakful of feathers. The fight made too much noise and would inevitably attract attention, but, the first cluck made it to the lines and began his vertical journey without further interruption.

“A fine specimen. Reminds me of you.”

“Brave, handsome, strong?”

“Hungry, foolish, alone.”

The next clucks burst forth from the tall grass in a bunch. They were running for their lives. Two red raptors were out on a night time hunt when the noise caught their attentions. They could have eaten every one of the little male clucks with ease.

“Oh, this would be so much easier with a bow. Ah, your laws, your problem.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I sighed and grabbed the last line. It was empty of worms and could barely hold my weight. Someone had to stop the raptors.

“Why do you hesitate? They’re only reds.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I rolled off the edge and slid down, squeezing the line to keep my pace slow and my legs from breaking when I landed. The raptors looked up and recognized me. If they could speak, they would have been joking about the giant turtle that is always getting into trouble with the megas.

“You think I’m a joke? Damn you stupid birds! Ya!”

They honked and snorted indecipherably. I recognized their body language. They agreed that a larger predator had entered the domain and stealing away with a single cluck would suffice. The little blues, like every male in heat, were not bothered by any of it. Nothing mattered but the song-like clucks of potential mates echoing down from the cliff.

“Don’t stray boy. The raptors are not afraid of you. They will return.”

“Yes, and in greater numbers.”

I scratched at my chin, remembering that I should shave before the convoy arrives. Then the raptors returned. I had learned to not fear any of the beasts on the plain, as only the Scarlet Opa presented any real threat. Bored, I sat down and let them run around me as if I were a stone. They did not make a long turn to charge back north along the wall. Luckily, they continued to head south as a pack. However, the beast from which they fled was not fooled.

“Long tooth!”

“Nice kitty. I’m a friend. You’re alright, see? No sword. No bow. No way to defend myself at all. Not a threat. Just a cute little turtle...”

The beast would not be soothed, though, he did not have a hunger for turtle soup. He was a hunter and the thrill of the chase was his appetizer.

“Stop him, Matthius.”

His fur was dark, movements silent, tail missing. The clucks did not stand a chance. Few were high enough to be safe from his impossible leap and that left me with no option to climb.

“Hey! You dropped your tail- idiot!”

The massive black lion did not care for my insults. He pounced on a cluck with such a force that it popped and exploded feathers all around. He was roaring at the rest when the first stone hit his arse. He turned just in time for the second to miss the back of his head but the third curved inward and smacked him right in the good eye. His claws extended out of anger and he lunged after the arrogant little turtle. I ran around the grass, ducking under stones where the snakes made their homes. Not even a face full of snakes stopped the beast and I barely escaped behind a tree. I tried to swing to the next but the branch broke from my weight. He was above me when I heard a harsh whinny.

“You big oaf- fell right into the steed’s den.”

He was charged by two wild broad steeds and they scared him off without the help of horns. The giant fearless mustangs trampled us both until we had fled in opposite directions. I was bruised and my arm hung limp from where they had broken it saving my life. Dooza was bitter about the whole mess and naturally blamed me. All that mattered was the hens each chose a suitable mate- my arm could wait until morning. She refused to help me set the bone properly. Instead, she threatened to tell on me when Major Swiftblade returned. I spent all night writhing in pain and jumping at every noise. Worst of all, I had run away again, proving that I had a coward’s heart.