EXIT STAGE LEFT
A laine immediately opened up. She did not stop until the machine gun clattered to silence, its ammo box exhausted.
Christopher massaged his ears. The figure remained in front of them. The bullets had passed through it without effect. A marble column in the distance behind it slowly fell over, chewed to the core by the stream of lead.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Richard muttered. “Bashki would have been proud.” He got out of the jeep and stretched, raising his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders.
Lalania turned off the jeep and jumped out, throwing the backrest forward so she could extract the lyre from its steel box behind her seat. Alaine hopped down, landing lightly despite the armor she wore. Christopher was left to clamber out, his armor catching on the jeep frame and almost tripping him.
“YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS HERE,” the black-robed figure declared in a voice that brooked no argument. Christopher almost found himself agreeing and ready to get back into the jeep, but the statement was not directed at him.
“I’m just sight-seeing,” Alaine answered. “This is the closest I will ever come to your domain.”
“ALL COME TO ME IN THE END.”
“In a way, I suppose.” Alaine was, incredibly, smirking. “But only because we will win. We will not begrudge you a few hours of hollow boasting. We will not hear it over our celebrations.”
“Not even that,” Richard said. “By that point in the process, you will no longer be a coherent pattern of energy. There will be nothing left to gloat.”
“YOU CHALLENGE ME, MORTAL?” The voice did not register amusement or concern. It was vast and deep, beyond emotion.
“I do. Protocol demands that we negotiate first. Release the woman known as Mary Sinclair, and I will release you from my challenge.”
“A WOMAN. SO MANY ANCIENT AND LEGENDARY ENTITIES DESTROYED FOR THE SAKE OF ONE MORTAL WOMAN. WHOLE CIVILIZATIONS DIED TO RAISE THE WINGS YOU HAVE STILLED. AND YET YOUR GREED IS SATISFIED SO EASILY? CHOOSE, THEN. TAKE WHAT YOU WILL.”
Stone ground on stone. A dozen human figures rose up from the ground on circular daises of marble. They stood stiff and still as mannequins, scattered about the ruins at random. Christopher ran from statue to statue. Each was an impossibly beautiful woman, in the prime of life, completely naked and posed seductively. Their eyes were jet-black, without any white at all, which rather diminished their allure. None of them was Maggie.
He stopped at one, anyway. This one was male and merely very handsome. It was also familiar. Major Kennet, naked and yet whole, the damage caused by the pistol repaired. The young man looked good, aside from the black eyes.
“We need this one too.” Christopher called out.
“YOU HAVE MADE YOUR CHOICE,” the voice stated.
“No,” Christopher said. “None of these is Maggie. I’m not even convinced they’re real people. But Kennet doesn’t belong here anymore than Maggie does.”
“YOU SPENT HIM LIKE A COIN TO GAIN ENTRANCE TO MY REALM. WOULD YOU NOW ROB ME OF MY PAY? ARE YOU A THIEF, THEN?”
“You’re not one to talk,” Christopher shot back. “We’re all rulebreakers here. Give me my people, and I’ll go.”
Another grinding sound. Another figure rose up out of the ground. Maggie, wearing only her long red hair. Christopher ran to her, stopping himself from touching her only by an act of willpower.
Her eyes were black. The sight terrified him.
“A TRADE.” The voice should have had humor in it, or contempt, or something. Instead it boomed as flat and dead as the high plain. “PLACE THE WOMAN YOU BROUGHT UPON THE DAIS AND TAKE THIS ONE. FAIR IS FAIR.”
Lalania’s face blanched. Christopher shook his head.
“The deal is that you give me what I want, and I leave. You started this; you stole from me. You can’t negotiate now.”
“YOU STOLE FROM ME. MY FLOCK DEAD IN THEIR NEST. THEIR WICKED AND CURLING THOUGHTS STILLED. AN ETERNITY OF SILENCE.”
“Then they shouldn’t have attacked me.” Christopher fumed. Arguing with a god was a waste of time. This was one of the few lessons he had learned since coming to this world.
“THEY SAVED YOU. WHEN YOU WOULD HAVE FROZEN IN THE SNOW. A MEANINGLESS DEATH BY RANDOM CHANCE. NOW YOU DEAL WITH GODS. IS THAT NOT WORTHY OF GRATITUDE?”
“Pay attention,” Christopher snapped. “I already answered that argument. We’ve all done what we’ve done for our own purposes. Except you kept my wife from me when the rules of magic say you cannot.”
“I AM DEATH. I AM THE RULES. THE RULES ARE ME.”
“How bloody long is this going to go on?” Richard complained. He turned back to the jeep. “Where’s that other beer?”
“I threw it out,” Christopher said. He was a hundred feet away and had to raise his voice. “You said to dump unnecessary weight.”
Richard boggled. “What part of beer spells ‘unnecessary’ to you?”
Kennent slumped to the ground. Grating his teeth, Christopher pulled himself away from Maggie and went to help the boy.
“Sir?” the young man said as Christopher pulled him to his feet. “I’m ready to go.”
“Not yet,” Christopher growled. “We haven’t gotten everything we came for.”
Kennet looked around, noticing the other people. “Why are the ladies here? Is this what revival is always like, and I just don’t remember?” He looked down at his nakedness, but since there wasn’t anything he could do about it, he just shrugged.
“This is not a normal revival. That obviously failed. That guy,” Christopher jabbed his finger at black-robed figure, “Is the reason.”
“I HAVE A NAME.”
“I need a gun,” Kennet said, his face hardening. Christopher drew his pistol and handed it to the boy. Being naked was bad enough; being unarmed in this place would make anyone crazy.
“THEY DID NOT COME TO SAVE YOU. THEY WOULD LEAVE YOU BEHIND IF I GAVE THEM WHAT THEY TRULY WANT.”
Kennet raised the pistol and fired. When Hordur didn’t fall, the young man frowned. “I need a bigger gun.”
“There’s one on the jeep,” Christopher said, “but it won’t help.” He walked back to Maggie, slowly, warily, while Kennet sprinted for the jeep.
“STOP, THIEF.”
Christopher steeled himself and stepped onto the dais. He bent Maggie over his shoulder and lifted. In his arms, she became dead weight, her limbs dangling loose, no longer a statue. Just a corpse.
“VERY WELL. YOUR CHALLENGE IS ACCEPTED.”
Out of the ground in front of Hordur rose a black sphere the size of a beach ball. It was truly, unforgivingly black. Nothing reflected from any part of its surface. Wind whistled continuously as it rushed in to fill the unfillable void; dirt crumbled into the shaft it left behind.
“Finally,” Richard muttered.
“My apologies in advance,” Lalania announced, “but it is what he requested.” She bent her hands over the lyre and abused it, producing a remarkably good imitation of industrial techno rock.
Richard clasped his hands before him, his face set in anticipation. The sphere began to move slowly, inexorably, toward him. His eyes darted back and forth like a chess master burning through strategies.
Christopher hustled with the naked corpse of his wife on his shoulders, trying to close the gap without getting near Hordur or the sphere. He saw Alaine draw her sword and stand with her back to Richard’s. This was a remarkable act of confidence; the elf could not see the sphere’s advance. If he succumbed to it, she likely would too.
Kennet was standing in the back of the jeep, reloading the machine gun. Apparently he had been watching during Alaine’s lesson.
Christopher reached the jeep and dumped his wife’s body into the rear seat. He flinched as her arm bounced off the backrest. He spent a moment trying to tidy her or cover her up. They should have brought a blanket. At least her eyes were closed now.
Then he went to guard Lalania, drawing his sword and casting a weapon blessing.
“What’s the plan, sir?” Kennet asked him, pointing the machine gun at Hordur.
“The plan is Richard wins and we all drive home.”
“Is there a plan B?”
Christopher thought about it. “Not really.”
“Pardon me for saying so, sir, but that seems like poor tactical preparation.”
“Preparation is a strong word. We didn’t even think to bring a spare set of clothes. Or a blanket.”
He looked over. Richard was not winning. The sphere continued to advance at exactly the same rate as it had before. The distance had fallen to two dozen feet. The man did not appear to notice; he stood his ground, concentrating fiercely.
Christopher knew there was no point in fleeing. The sphere would follow as fast as Richard ran, closing the remaining gap at the same measured rate. Once engaged, the Mouth would not be denied until it was fed.
At a dozen feet, Christopher started to worry. At six he held his breath. At three his heart stood still.
“Oh,” Richard said. “Is that it?”
The sphere stopped moving.
“My apologies. I should have seen it sooner. I did not think I would cross space and time to solve a Hilbert space.”
The sphere moved back a foot and stopped. Christopher forced himself to breathe.
It lurched, suddenly, leaping two feet toward Richard before resuming its slow advance. It stopped again, only inches away, and Richard chuckled under his breath. “We solved that one a few years ago. You really should keep up.”
The sphere began moving backward. Hordur raised his skeletal hands.
“IMPRESSIVE. BUT NOT UNPRECEDENTED.”
The sphere paused briefly and then resumed its retreat.
“OTHERS HAVE WON THIS GAME. THEIR NAMES ARE HIDDEN BECAUSE THEY ARE NO LONGER MORTAL.”
Richard continued to concentrate. Christopher was distracted by a gurgling sound. He looked around and saw Kennet flopped over the gunnery frame, his throat slit. Hordur leapt from the back of the jeep and bent down, disappearing from view.
Christopher jerked his head around again. Hordur was still standing where he had been, the sphere gradually approaching him.
“Dark take it,” he growled, and ran to look behind the jeep. While he was running, Alaine begin firing her assault rifle, spraying a wide area as if firing at something she could not quite see. Christopher ducked below the jeep, not wanting to get hit, before remembering he was wearing his cloak. He stood up again.
Hordur—the second Hordur—was facing Alaine, laughing. It was hard to tell he was laughing because he had no face, just a dark spot in a hood, and he made no sound. Still, the posture was clear enough.
Alaine charged the rifle with another clip and resumed firing. The bullets bounced off the black robe. She threw the rifle aside and drew her sword from where she had stuck it, point first, in the marble floor.
Hordur raised his hands, a dagger in each, like he was extending an invitation to dance.
Kennet was dead, his head hanging on by a thread. There was blood all over the jeep and Maggie’s body. Christopher pulled the boy’s corpse to a sitting position and held the head on.
“This is a normal revival,” he told the boy as he cast the spell.
The young man’s eyes fluttered to life. He fell back, exhausted and confused. Christopher left him and went to help Alaine.
The skeletal figure was absurdly adroit. It leapt and capered; gamboled, even. Christopher and Alaine chased it with their enchanted swords, trying to hit a wisp with a sledgehammer. The twin daggers were a net of steel they could not penetrate. Well, not steel; their swords would have gone through that like butter. The dagger blades were dullish purple.
Despite the enchantment on his sword, Christopher noticed that the blade was taking damage. A nick here, a gash there, every time Hordur blocked.
While they fought, Hordur argued with Richard for his life.
“YOUR COMPANIONS WILL DIE AND MY PUPPET WILL SLIT YOUR THROAT. TAKE YOUR WINNINGS NOW OR LOSE EVERYTHING.”
The voice boomed over Lalania’s hideous music. It was hard to ignore.
“YOU DARE NOT SUCCEED. IF THE SPHERE TOUCHES ME I WILL BE GONE. WITH ME WILL GO MY TAEL. IRRETRIEVABLY. TAEL ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU A GOD.”
It should have been desperate or pleading. Instead it was the same robotic announcement.
“A CRIME AGAINST REALITY. TO DESTROY A BILLION LIVES FOR NO PROFIT. YOU WILL GAIN NOTHING. THE WORLD WILL LOSE THE IRREPLACEABLE. ACCEPT MY SURRENDER AND BECOME A GOD. RULE YOUR OWN PLANE WITH YOUR OWN RULES. LIVE FOREVER.”
Christopher risked a glance at Richard. The man did not appear to react to Hordur’s offer. This was incredible loyalty, far more than he had a right to expect. He had offered a healthy body and a new problem set, and the man had thrown away three years of his life without hesitation. Turning down Hordur’s largesse seemed almost uncharacteristic.
The puppet Hordur took advantage of the distraction to stab Christopher in the stomach, straight through his armor. Tael stopped the wound from being fatal, but it still enraged him.
He tried to drop a column of flame on the second Hordur, but it tumbled out of the way. When it rolled along the ground, he could hear the bones clacking. Then it was back on its feet and blocking Alaine’s two-handed swing with both daggers.
In the jeep, Kennet had staggered to his feet. He was fooling around with the machine gun again. Christopher doubted the gun was strong enough to hurt Hordur, and in any case, the risk of hitting Alaine seemed too great. It didn’t matter, however, because Kennet was pointing the gun downrange to where the other human statues stood.
Human no longer; they were growing wings and fangs, their skin changing to different hues and tones, long forked tails whipping around them as they stretched and moved. Still naked and attractive if you were into that sort of thing. Kennet started shooting them.
The Hordur puppet was pushing its way toward Richard’s exposed back. Alaine took several dagger blows moving to intercept it. Christopher realized he needed to change tactics.
“Hold,” he commanded, using the smallest offensive spell he possessed, the one that froze people like statues. It didn’t work. He tried again, putting the power of his rank into it.
“Hold. Hold. Hold.” He chanted, burning through spells, as he moved to put his body between the puppet and Richard. Over his head streaked rounds of tracer fire as Kennet machine-gunned the winged demons ahead.
“HOLD,” Hordur’s voice boomed. “YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU DO. YOU CAN BE A GOD AND KEEP THE WOMAN FOR YOURSELF. EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED. LIVE FOREVER. HOLD.”
“Hold!” Christopher commanded, and this time it stuck. The puppet froze. Alaine decapitated it in a single stroke. The body fell to the ground, a lifeless bag of bones. Above them wings stretched, the demonesses charging through the air. They went for Kennet first. He destroyed two more before they got him, shredding his naked defenseless body like hamburger with their razor claws.
Christopher and Alaine took advantage of the fact that the flyers had to land to maul Kennet’s body. They struck from behind, cutting off wings and limbs with each stroke. The creatures clawed back, maddened and vicious, but his armor and tael held. Halfway through the battle, the female demons began screeching in terrible agony.
Richard strolled over and waved his hand. A dozen sparkling bolts lanced out, stabbing the last demon and stilling it. He spoke almost casually. “I’m thinking we should go. The sooner the better.”
“Oh thank the gods,” Christopher gasped. “You won.”
“What?” Richard put his hand to his ear. He turned and caught Lalania’s eye, signaling her to stop playing. She put the lyre down and burst into tears.
“Sorry, could you repeat that? I had Ell turn off my hearing. Figured it would be one less distraction.”
Christopher said it again, but his mind was already moving on.
Alaine was stabbing the corpses of the demons with the royal sword, harvesting their tael. Christopher had to ask her for some of it.
“Stop. Dying,” he ordered Kennet’s mutilated corpse, putting it back together again with another revival spell. The boy sat up, reaching for something, and then fell over, completely spent.
“We are all in the bard’s debt,” Alaine said to Richard. “Hordur offered to make you a god. She chose not to let you hear that.”
“Don’t tell him!” Lalania cried out. “Why would you tell him?”
Alaine looked surprised. “It was a compliment.”
“Hmm,” Richard said.
“Few mortals would have refused such an offer.” Alaine apologized, but to Richard, not Lalania. “I am glad we did not have to find out whether you were one of them.”
Richard cocked an eyebrow. “Are you glad we did not have to find out if Ell was one of them?”
“I am. And yet, it was unlikely to be an issue. No one ever thinks of the support staff.”
Christopher wanted to go comfort Lalania. He didn’t. It wasn’t his place anymore. “Behind every great wizard is a great bard,” he said, paraphrasing a joke to amuse her.
“That’s not how the saying goes,” Lalania said, wiping her face. She quoted the correct form. “‘Behind every great wizard is an apprentice waiting to kill him.’”
“Well, then,” Richard said, carefully walking over to her. “I shan’t get an apprentice.” He held his arms open in invitation.
“Fae will be displeased.” The bard was trying to make the conversation light.
Richard was not helping. “Mistress Fae’s pleasure is no longer my concern.”
He kept advancing. She stood perfectly still until he touched her. Then she collapsed into his embrace, whispering apologies. He silenced her with a kiss.
“He is not wrong,” Alaine said, ignoring the unfolding romantic drama. “We should go. The destruction of a god cannot fail to have unfathomable fallout. As much as I would like to profit from it, I do not care to face a swarm of hungry bevinget on the wing. They will seek either revenge or glory, or perhaps merely the tael they assume we have won.”
“Was it true?” Christopher asked, his voice held low. “Was the offer real?”
Alaine looked at him. “Of course. As was everything Hordur said. The history of a billion lives are snuffed out as if they had never existed. All that was left of them was tael, and now that is gone. They can never be reclaimed.”
He looked to where the sphere hung in the air, still swallowing the wind. “What if he had put Maggie in there?”
“Then she too would be lost to all time. Yet he did not. Nor could he; to do so would have surrendered the only leverage he had over you. Though I do not know why the god of death desired to have leverage over a mortal in the first place, so do not ask.”
Richard was pressing Lalania into the driver’s seat, trying to untangle himself from her grasp.
“What else does it mean? The god of death is dead. Isn’t that going to . . . change things?”
Alaine climbed back into the gunnery frame, an ammunition box in her hands. “Probably not. It has always been elven philosophy that the gods are unnecessary, mere ornaments encrusted on the proper shape of the world. Now all will see if we were right.”
Christopher took his place, careful to buckle in. He leaned over and strapped Maggie’s cold, dead body into her seat. Richard held the lyre rather than disturb him by trying to put it back into its box. Lalania started the jeep’s engine.
“You don’t seem too worried,” Christopher said to Alaine.
“I trust the wisdom of our sages. It is having to explain all of this to my daughter that I fear. The young are ever in a hurry.”
“Why would the death of a god make Kalani impatient?”
Alaine smiled down at him, having finished reloading the machine gun. “Because she will be eager to slay the rest.”