Heights of the Depths (13 page)

Never in her life had Norda Kinklash hated anyone before. She didn’t have the capacity for it.

That all changed when she witnessed the death of Nicrominus.

The metal man was still standing there, staring down toward the street. From the angle she was perched, she could not see his face. She didn’t know if he was smiling or sad. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to see him dead.

Her impulse was to leap down upon him, to tear into him, rip his head off, send his body tumbling down into the street so that he would be able to keep Nicrominus company. But before she yielded to that impulse, she found herself wondering what Arren would do in a similar situation, because he was ever-so-clever at figuring out ways and means to dispose of people.

And Arren, in her imagination, said to her gently but firmly, 
Wait. Not now. Not yet. You have to wait.

She stayed where she was. She stayed there and watched as the metal man reached down, picked up his helmet, and placed it back upon his head. He twisted it and it slid into place with a slight “click.” Seeing this caused Norda to curse herself that she had made no move, because he was now effectively impervious to whatever harm she might be able to inflict upon him.

It was a new sensation for her, wanting to inflict harm. That time with the bell, when she had conspired with Arren, it hadn’t been personal or stemming from any sort of enmity. It had just been part of a grand game of power that Arren had put together. That was how he had explained it to her.

Not this time, though. Not anymore. This time she was seized with cold, implacable fury. But fortunately the words of Arren the Schemer, Arren the Planner, were wisely counseling her and preventing her from meeting a demise as quickly and as assuredly as had New Daddy. Whoever and whatever this metal man was, he was clearly formidable and could not be readily dispatched with a frontal attack, no matter how fueled by righteous fury it was.

She had to wait.

But she knew that there was one thing for which she could no longer wait: her brother. Perhaps Arren would eventually show up, or perhaps not. Perhaps she would find him, given time, or perhaps she would never see him again. The latter notion would have overwhelmed her with grief at one time, causing her to curl up into a ball and become inconsolable.

Not now. Not this time.

Fortunately she felt as if she had Arren in her head, right there with her, instructing her, telling her what to do. Sadly, he wasn’t telling her how to go about it, save to counsel caution. That she could do.

The metal man had turned away from the observation deck and disappeared from view. She was actually able to hear a faint clanking from his armored feet that receded until he was gone. The wind continued to buffet her and the chill had worked its way into her bones. As a result when she made her first efforts to move, her muscles protested and her joints ached. She overcame such discomforts, though, because ultimately they were minor and nothing for her to concern herself over.

Slowly she made her way down the spike. She had no fear that she was going to fall. She had no fear of anything, really, because all other emotions save anger had been washed away from her upon witnessing New Daddy’s demise. When the wind tried to pluck her from the spike and send her tumbling to the streets far below, she simply wrapped her tail around the spike and steadied herself until the winds subsided. She had no idea quite how long it took, because she had never been much for keeping track of time’s passage even during her best periods.

Finally she had drawn near enough to the observation deck that she was able to release her hold and drop down to it. She landed in a crouch and her forked tongue flicked out and sampled the air.

“Mandraques do nothing in half measures,” she whispered. It was the mantra of her people, the truism that caused other races to tremble at the merest mention of Mandraques. She had never had much reason to care about such matters, because she’d never really been much of a Mandraque. She had been far too busy living in her own world. “Not anymore,” she continued to whisper. “Now I’m going to live in this one. But the metal man won’t. Because I’m going to take him out of it.”

the outskirts of feruel

I.

Karsen had never seen so
 many whores in one place, but he knew that managing to get one between his legs would solve a lot of his problems.

Eutok drew close to him, hiding behind the same rock that Karsen was. The smell that wafted from the Trull was still fairly powerful, and Karsen would have far preferred it if Eutok had been several yards downwind of him. But he decided that it wasn’t worth saying anything or starting an argument over.

The whores were magnificent animals, Karsen had to admit that much. There were about a dozen of them in various colors, sizes and shades. Native to the Damned World, they were four-legged and tall and moved with an undeniable grace even though their hooves made a curious “clip clop” sound. Their eyes displayed a remarkable native intelligence. Every so often one of the whores would toss their heads and their great black manes of hair would flip around. It was so beautiful that Karsen almost wanted to cry.

“Amazing, aren’t they,” he murmured.

“They are…impressive,” said Eutok grudgingly. “Why are we watching them?”

“Because they can be of benefit to us.”

“Good eating, are they? That would be fortunate since the game has been slim.”

“No, not for eating.”

Eutok looked from Karsen to the whores and then back again. “How else then? Are you that starved for sexual congress?”

“What…? No!” Karsen hadn’t understood at first, but once he did his face twisted in disgust. “How could you think that?”

“You’re half animal. I don’t know where your preferences lie.”

“Yes, you do! You know that I am doing everything I can to find Jepp!”

“And she’s a Mort. Obviously your interests lie toward species other than your own. How am I to know where you draw the line?”

“I draw it at them. I do not have sex with whores. No respectable creature would. It’s a beastly notion.”

“Fine,” said Eutok who clearly had lost interest in that aspect of the conversation. “What did you have in mind, then?”

“We ride them.”

“Ride them? I thought sex was not an aspect of your interests…”

“It’s not! In the name of the gods, Eutok, focus your attentions elsewhere!” He pointed at the animals, who remained oblivious to their presence. “Humans used to sit astride the creatures, balanced atop them. They are responsive to commands and can move very quickly over vast distances. Much faster than we can move on either foot or hoof.”

“How do you know that is what humans used to do with whores?”

“My mother told me. And she is usually right about things having to do with humans.”

“My mother is usually right about everything, and even when she is wrong, she makes certain that we know her to be right,” Eutok said ruefully.

“I believe it. I met your mother. You knew your mother. Hell, you wanted me to kill your mother, an action I still consider reprehensible.”

“If you truly knew my mother, rather than simply claiming to, you wouldn’t find the action quite so reprehensible.”

Karsen Foux shrugged. “That may well be.”

Eutok grunted at that and rubbed just under his ribs. There was still visible bruising there, but the bruises and cuts were in the process of healing. “All right, then. What is the plan?”

“If humans can ride whores, so can we.”

“That’s not a plan so much as it is a statement. A statement I’ve no reason to believe is true, by the way.”

“Then I think it’s time we find out. Here’s the thing: I need you to roar.”

“Roar?”

“Yes. A loud noise that will ideally freeze them in their tracks long enough for us to get close.”

“Why do you not roar, if you think it’s such a fine idea?”

“I don’t do well with roaring.”

Eutok gave him a confused look. “Why not?”

Karsen stared down at his hooves, suddenly self-conscious. “My roars tend to sound more like bleats. They are not particularly useful.”

“I see how they could paralyze an opponent by causing him to fall down laughing.”

Grunting impatiently, Karsen said, “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Fine, fine. Make your move.”

Karsen sprang from hiding, opting to move quickly and thus gain the element of surprise since the herd of whores were sufficiently far from their place of cover that sneaking up on them was simply not an option. As he did so, Eutok was right behind him and unleashing a Trull sized bellow that was so terrifying, it almost backfired and caused Karsen himself to freeze in his tracks.

The whores reared up but otherwise looked confused, uncertain of what to do or which way to go. Karsen had had his eye on a large brown one and now he leaped through the air, propelled by his powerful legs, and landed squarely on the back of the one he had selected.

The whores let out a high pitched whinny and attempted to throw Karsen off its back. Karsen clamped his powerful legs together and grabbed onto the sides of the whores’ neck to further brace himself.

Eutok was not remotely as spry as Karsen, nor as tall. But he was not without his own resourcefulness, and when he approached a smaller black whores, he grabbed it by the tail and yanked down, hard. His intention was to force it to bring its rump down to his level so that he could then clamber up the back and mount it as Karsen had. It was a good notion in theory but failed in practice as the whores lashed out with its hooves, smacking Eutok squarely in the chest and knocking him back.

This so infuriated Eutok that he bounded to his feet, yanked his battle axe from its holster on his back, and swung it as hard as he could. It slammed into the whores’ midsection, crushing its ribcage and collapsing its lungs. The creature went down and Eutok proceeded to pummel it long after life had fled the unfortunate beast’s carcass.

“Eutok!” shouted Karsen. “Nothing is to be served by beating dead whores!” His own whores was still trying to throw him off its back, spinning in a circle and bucking single-mindedly. But the more it tried, the more Karsen held on.

Realizing that Karsen was right, but also aware that he was going to require a different approach, Eutok selected it. There was another whores that looked as if it would serve Eutok’s needs, but it was a distance away and starting to gallop even further. Eutok picked up a sizable rock, hefted it once to get a feel for it, and then let fly. The rock sailed through the air with precision and struck the whores in the head. The whores went down to its knees, the world no doubt whirling around it. Eutok took the opportunity to trot briskly over to the whores—a large black one—and clambered aboard. The whores offered a whinny in protest but wasn’t in condition to do much more than provide token resistance. Moments later the whores got to its feet, staggering a bit as it did so, disoriented both by the blow and by the unaccustomed weight it was bearing.

“Your knees!” Karsen called over to Eutok. “Use your knees to guide it!” He was already finding that he had some control over the whores’ direction by applying pressure from his knees, a fact that he was discovering through—he hated to admit it, but it was true—the animal side of him that was represented by his lower half. He was still keeping a firm grip on the base of the whores’ throat, but the whores was working less and less to throw Karsen off.

Long minutes passed. The rest of the whores had backed off to a safe distance, watching Karsen and Eutok master the creatures while snorting and whinnying and probably imploring their fellows to toss these interlopers from their backs. But the Laocoon and Trull would not be so easily disposed of, and soon they had the steeds fully under their control.

Eutok actually sounded pleased, which was unusual for Eutok. “This is marvelous!” he said with a chortle. “I’ve never been this high up before! It…it is exhilarating! To see the world from this level!”

“It’s a heady notion, to see things from a different perspective, isn’t it, Trull?”

“Aye, it is.”

So in control of the whores was he, and confident of his position upon it, that Karsen was able to maneuver it toward Eutok with only the lightest of touches upon the beast’s neck. “All right, then, Eutok. I trust you haven’t become too turned around during this bit of business.”

“I know which way we’re going, if that’s what you mean.” He pointed with confidence. “That way.”

“That way would be in the general direction of Murako.”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. I suggest,” and he patted the whores on the shoulders, “that we take it slow to start out. These are still powerful beasts and I have no desire to be thrown from one. Nor, I suspect, do you.”

“If it throws me off, it will die for such effrontery.”

“In which case you will wind up walking while I ride, so I suggest that you strive to keep your temper in check.”

Eutok growled at the reasonable nature of the statement but otherwise kept silent.

They began riding the whores at a brisk trot. It remained a challenge initially because the whores would want to wander off if they spied something that seemed of particular interest, such as something to eat or a stream of water from which to drink. Karsen and Eutok found that they had to assert themselves, which was slightly challenging for the milder-mannered Karsen but no problem at all for Eutok. As a result, Eutok—after a slower start—transcended the learning curve faster than Karsen did.

Soon they had developed sufficient confidence in their own whoresmanship to bring the animals up to a steady gallop. They covered a far greater distance on the backs of the whores than they could conceivably have done on foot, and even developed a compromise position wherein every few hours they would stop and allow the beasts to refresh themselves by grazing on available grass or drinking at a water source, the water being no less important to Karsen and Eutok than it was to their rides.

Concerned that the animals would wander away, Karsen took some rope that he had in his satchel and affixed them around the whores’ necks. He would then tie the other ends around trees, thus guaranteeing that the whores would have no opportunity to take off. After a while it seemed less of a concern. The whores appeared to appreciate their company, and it made Karsen wonder if at some point the animals hadn’t actually been domesticated.

The other reason they needed to stop, aside from allowing the whores to rest—because, as Karsen pointed out, “There’s only so long you can ride whores before they get worn out”—was Eutok’s well being. Although he was responding well to the medicines that Karsen was ministering, he still became tired far more easily than he ordinarily would have. He was far too proud or even stubborn to admit when he was having difficulties, and so Karsen grew accustomed to keeping an eye on him as they rode and deciding when it was time to stop, more for Eutok’s benefit than the whores or Karsen.

He resented the necessity of having the Trull with him, but Karsen had still failed to pick up any additional scent of Jepp or the draquons. Eutok, however, claimed that he was able to see places in the rocky surface or barren grounds that they galloped across where the draquons had briefly touched down before gliding again. “Here a small piece of stone was chipped away” he would claim, “definitely as a result of a draquon’s claw,” and Karsen could not gainsay him because he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t true.

Doubt continued to gnaw at him, though. The Trull had been injured, possibly on the verge of death, or at the very least slipping into extreme helplessness. He had seen Karsen as a means of avoiding such a fate. Karsen wouldn’t put it past Eutok to say or do anything to maintain his hold on Karsen, even if it meant keeping him hoping for a reunion with Jepp that could never be.

Night had fallen, and Karsen and Eutok were both exhausted, although both of them were too stubborn to let on to the other. They had found a passable encampment by a lake, and Karsen had even managed to lure in several fish that he and Eutok had greedily devoured. The whores had been tied off by nearby trees. There were some caves that might have provided shelter, but it was a pleasant enough night and Karsen saw no reason to shut themselves off from the night sky.

Eutok regarded him thoughtfully for a time and then said, “You think I have no idea which way your little human was taken, don’t you.”

“It concerns me,” Karsen admitted.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Karsen had been lying on his back, staring heavenward, but now he sat up and stared with bemusement at Eutok. “I’m supposed to take your word for that?”

“I am the son of the Trull Queen.”

“A queen whose death you attempted to arrange.”

“That does not in the least diminish my status or rank.”

“I actually think it does somewhat,” said Karsen. “I think that anyone who would take such an action is unreliable and not to be trusted and sacrifices whatever…I don’t know…’integrity’ that might be accorded to one of higher rank.”

“Yet you trust me to lead you in your little human’s direction.”

“Yes, I do. Because I am just that desperate and just that pathetic.”

The Trull just stared at him for such a long time, in such silence, that finally Karsen said impatiently, “What? What is it?”

“You are many things with which I could take issue, Laocoon,” said Eutok with surprising softness and a distinct lack of his typical surliness. “But ‘pathetic’ is not one of them. You are not pathetic. Some might find your actions laudable. Even heroic.”

Karsen laughed bitterly at that. “Yes, well…my clan would not be among them. Particularly not my mother.”

“Mothers,” said Eutok with a resigned shrug. “What can you do?”

“In your case, you can try to strike a bargain with some Bottom Feeders to end her life.”

“Are you going to keep throwing that back at me?”

“It’s rather hard to ignore if one is going to keep bringing up mothers.”

“Fine. That,” and he stabbed a thick finger at him, “is the last time that I endeavor to express sympathy for you.”