The Golden Queen (7 page)

The ogre tensed and rose on his tiptoes, anxious to head off down the road. Gallen said, “Sir, may I ask what they have stolen? Can you offer a reward if I regain the merchandise?”

The ogre hesitated. “She stole a key made of crystal, a key which opens gateways to other worlds. If you recover the key, my master will pay a generous reward.”

“How much of a reward?” Gallen breathed.

“Eternal life,” the ogre said. The creature straightened its back and shouted, “Vanquishers, all north!” Its voice rang out with such amazing power that the ground seemed to shake beneath Orick’s paws. In the distant woods, dozens of other voices bellowed the message, “Vanquishers, all north!”

Orick could stand it no more. He knew that if he did not get a good look at the ogre now, he might never get another chance. He edged lower in his hiding spot, and his heart began pounding and he wished he’d never seen the thing: the ogre’s head was enormous, and its hideous face was deeply creased, while a massive chin hung down like the arm on a sofa. Its lips were reddish brown, the color of burnished wood, and its large teeth were as yellow as pears. Its eyes were as huge as a stallion’s testicles, and they were a bright orange. Scraggly brown hair hung limp from its head. All in all, the ogre was like no creature he had ever dreamed.

The ogre seemed to realize he had urgent business elsewhere. It loped toward An Cochan, back bent, head held peculiarly low, as if that enormous head were some great burden that it carried.

Gallen stood watching after it for several moments, an astonished expression on his face. He licked his lips and shook his head in wonder. He muttered to himself, “Eternal life, is it? What if I want a bonus? How about eternal life and a pair of laying hens? Or maybe eternal life and a sack of potatoes thrown into the bargain? Would your penurious master go so high?”

Gallen stared down the road. The sunlight still shone on the road, birds were hopping in the brush. A light morning breeze sifted through the trees, and Gallen shook his bandaged head, then stood with his mouth open as if he could not believe what he’d just seen.

Maggie stepped forward from the brush and whispered, “Gallen?” Orick followed.

Gallen saw her, then looked back up the road where the ogre had gone. He began jumping up and down and pointing. “Ah, Christ, you missed it!” Gallen said. “I just saw the most incredible giant! Come here! Hurry! I’ll show you its tracks! I swear to God, it had green skin and teeth as big as shingles!”

“I know,” Maggie said. “We saw it, too. Gallen, there’s a bunch of those things in the wood. They came through town and murdered Father Heany. It was terrible!”

Maggie was on the road by now, shaking her head and grabbing Gallen’s arm as if to make sure he was alive. Up here on the road, Orick could smell the strangers more strongly—Everynne and her guard—but he didn’t want to say anything, afraid that somehow perhaps one of the giants might hear.

“Father Heany is dead?” Gallen stepped back in shock. “But …” He searched for something to say.

“Father Heany tried to drive the monsters out of town. And they burned him up. Then they went to the inn, looking for those travelers. They knew John Mahoney had let them stay in his inn. They killed him for it.”

“But, he’s an innkeeper, for Christ’s sake!” Gallen shouted, looking angrily back up the road. “That’s what he does for a living! Ah, hell, where is Everynne and her guard now?”

“They ran off into the forest before dawn,” Orick said. “I’ve been trying to track them.”

“You wouldn’t turn them in, would you?” Maggie asked. “That beast may sound like he’s offering some grand reward, but those creatures are devils! Beelzebub himself walked at the head of their procession!”

Gallen looked sober. “Even if I didn’t know that they’d killed a priest, I wouldn’t turn anyone over to that thing. I have my honor to think about. I promised to take Everynne to Geata na Chruinne, and I’ll do it, even if the woods are full of sidhe. Orick, can you still follow their trail?”

Orick shivered. He had not thought about it, but here they were in Coille Sidhe. The humans told stories of the sidhe—strange and brutal beings from the otherworld. Orick had always thought them to be only tales for children, but suddenly the otherworlders were walking about in the daylight, looking for an enchantress with a key. “I can sniff them out.”

“Wait!” Maggie said. “Gallen, we’ve no cause to get involved in the affairs of the sidhe. Let the devils squabble among themselves. If this woman has stolen something, maybe she deserves to be punished!”

Gallen half-closed his eyes in thought, and his long golden hair shone in the sunlight, the bandage holding it like a bloody headband. Orick wondered why his head was bandaged. Gallen looked down at Maggie and Orick, the sun catching his powder-blue eyes. “I don’t believe this Everynne is a thief. Her guard was loyal to her. Thieves are never so devoted to their own. Greed wrings all the devotion right out of them.”

“Perhaps he was under a spell—” Orick said, “as the ogre warned.”

“Perhaps,” Gallen agreed. “But only an hour ago, I swore to Father Brian that if my heart was ever hot to give someone aid, I would do it. And this morning my heart is hot to give aid to Lady Everynne.”

“Well spoken,” a gravelly voice said from the knoll above them. As one, Gallen, Maggie and Orick glanced up. The hill was covered with pines near the top, but the voice had come from close by, from the fern beds not twenty yards away. Suddenly there was movement, and Orick saw a man standing in the ferns, wearing a deep-hooded robe painted in greens and browns. Images of ferns were painted on it so precisely that if the man had remained still, Orick would never have seen him. Yet as the stranger walked downhill toward them, the robe shimmered and turned a soft brown. The man wore two swords at his hip.

The stranger halted in front of Gallen, and his scent was muted—hard to catch even at ten feet. Of all the wondrous things that had happened today, to Orick this was the most wondrous, the man’s lack of scent.

The stranger pulled back his hood. He appeared to be in his late forties, but he was well-muscled, and his skin was ruddy tan. His hair had once been a golden brown, but now was turning silver. “I am Veriasse Dussogge,” he said, “Everynne’s counselor and protector. Will you guide us to the gate now? We are in great need. It will not take long for the vanquishers to discover your ruse and return in greater numbers.”

“I can take you,” Gallen said, “but we have not yet agreed to a price.”

The stranger licked his lips. “You said only a moment ago that your heart was hot to give aid to the Lady Everynne.”

“True,” Gallen admitted, “but I didn’t say that my heart was hot to give it to her for free!”

Orick looked from Gallen to Veriasse. Veriasse seemed to be weighing his options. Obviously, he could not afford to spend hours searching for either the gate or a new guide.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Veriasse said. “What is your price?”

“Well, that depends,” Gallen answered. “Finding the gate is easy enough, but I’m not eager to tangle with one of those ogres. I assume you knew they were following you? That’s why you wanted a man-at-arms?”

Veriasse nodded. “The vanquishers are very dangerous. I should warn you that they carry weapons more powerful than any on your world. The vanquishers can easily kill you at a hundred yards.”

“Hmmm.…Then my price needs to reflect the risk I’ll be taking. How about eternal life?” Gallen raised a brow.

“It is not in the Lady Everynne’s power to grant that to you now,” Veriasse said, “but if she reaches her destination …”

“Then she can give it to me if she reaches Geata na Chruinne?” Gallen asked.

“She has other gates to pass through,” Veriasse answered. “She must face many dangers. But if she wins through, then, yes, she would return and pay your fee.”

Uphill, a whippoorwill called. “Quickly!” Veriasse hissed, urging them off the road. “Vanquishers!”

He grabbed Gallen’s arm and leapt downhill into the brush. Orick plunged after them, and Veriasse led them a few hundred feet off the road, into the shadows under a pine.

“Don’t stir,” Veriasse warned. Orick waited motionless for a moment. A trio of ogres passed on the road, marching quietly, heads swiveling as they searched the forest. Maggie was breathing so heavily, Orick feared the ogres would hear her. But they passed quickly.

After another two minutes, Veriasse whistled once like a thrush. Lady Everynne bounded downhill over the edge of the road, wearing her blue robes and a headdress made of triangular silver bangles fastened with a metal mesh. She bore her rosewood harp case under one arm; a pack was strapped to her shoulder.

Veriasse stood, and Orick saw that his robes were taking on the colors of the wood—deep grays and greens with splashes of yellow sunlight. Veriasse pulled his hood low over his eyes. “Everynne,” he said, “this young man asks eternal life as his reward for leading you to the gate. Will you accept his price?”

Everynne looked at Gallen. “He doesn’t know what he is asking. How could he? He doesn’t know who I am, nor can he understand the limits of our power.” She looked into Gallen’s eyes. “When you ask for ‘eternal life,’ it is not what you think. I could change you—make you so that you will not grow old, cure you of all ills and injuries. Perhaps by doing this, I could extend your life—for a thousand or ten thousand years. I can give you new bodies, keep you so that you are reborn at each death. But you could still be killed. Your life will still end, someday.”

“You can do this?” Gallen asked. Maggie was looking at Everynne in astonishment, and the young girl backed away as if afraid.

“Perhaps,” Everynne said. “At the moment, I am as helpless as you. But I promise: if you take me to the gate and I survive the next few weeks, then it will be in my power to pay your fee.”

Gallen offered his hand, and Maggie said, “Gallen, no!”

“Why not?” Gallen asked.

“It’s a trick—” Orick cut in. “There’s things she’s not telling you. If you help her, you might not die of old age, but those giant vanquishers can come back and knock your head in! Listen to Maggie. You’ve no cause to be concerning yourself in her affairs.” Orick’s heart pounded, and he stared at his friend. Orick was a practical bear, and Gallen’s bargain here just didn’t make bear sense. Obviously these were magical creatures, and by bargaining with them, Gallen might win eternal life, but would he have a soul when he finished?

Gallen raised an eyebrow, questioned Everynne without saying a word. “If I live, the vanquishers will become my servants,” Everynne said, “and to my knowledge they will never return to this world to harm you or your family. Gallen, I cannot promise you that all dangers will fade from your life. There are worse things than vanquishers. If I die, I suspect that you and your people will learn more about what lies beyond the Gate of the World than any of you ever wanted to know.”

“What do you mean by that?” Maggie demanded.

“We are at war,” Veriasse cut in.

Orick looked hard at Gallen, and it was plain that the young man was wrestling with his thoughts. “Then,” Gallen said, “I think I know what price I must ask.”

“Which is?” Everynne asked.

Orick’s nose was dry from fear, so he licked his snout. He waited for Gallen to ask for eternal life, but Gallen said, “I want to come with you beyond the gate into the realm of the sidhe and make sure that you reach your destination.”

“No!” Everynne said. “You cannot even guess the kinds of dangers we will face. I cannot take you. You would not be a help—only a hindrance.”

“You are a traveler and you need guards,” Gallen said. “That is what I do.”

Orick thought the man crazy, but Gallen had eyes only for Everynne. It was a case of lust, sure and through. And when Gallen got that set look in his eye, you could more easily pull a badger from his den than deter Gallen from his goal.

“Last night,” Gallen said, “you would not tell me your name because you knew that these vanquishers would be following you.”

“Yes,” Everynne answered. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yet the vanquishers came. Inadvertently, perhaps, you have touched our world. Now I want to touch yours.”

“It’s not that simple,” Everynne said. “I could let you come through the gate, but it does not lead to one world, it leads to a maze of worlds, and you are not prepared to enter. Even if you did, you would only want to come home again. In these last few days, I have grown to appreciate this world immensely for its simplicity, its ease of life.”

“I don’t know about other worlds,” Gallen said. “But I suspect that this one is damned boring.”

“A boring world is a valuable commodity,” Everynne said. “I would that all worlds were so innocent.”

Gallen thought a long moment, shrugged. “Then I’ll take nothing in return for my aid. Only a scoundrel would extort money from a woman in need.”

Orick shook his head, confused by Gallen’s sudden turnabout. He wondered if he’d ever understand humans. The Lady Everynne smiled gratefully, raised her brow as if her opinion of Gallen had just raised dramatically.

In the distance was a sound Orick could just barely make out, though none of the others could have heard it. Voices shouting, “Vanquishers, to the south!”

“They’re coming back!” Orick said. “Hurry!”

Gallen leapt into the woods, and the others followed.

Chapter 5

Everynne raced through the forest, following Gallen and Veriasse while Maggie and Orick brought up the rear. Everynne found it hard to toil through the thick undergrowth of Coille Sidhe. Everywhere, trees grew in a riot: dark pine brooded over the wrinkled hills and valleys. Tangled vine maple and ironwood climbed high to capture the dappled sunlight, their limbs twisted like snakes. Dense undergrowth covered the forest floor. Everywhere, ancient fallen pine trees lay molding.

Everynne wished she could hear the vanquishers’ calls in the woods, but the pine needles and leaves of lesser trees muffled all sound. If the vanquishers fell upon them, there would be no advance notice.

Veriasse and Gallen ran side by side, Veriasse carrying his incendiary gun in both hands. Gallen kept glancing at it, but did not immediately ask what it was.

Veriasse hung his shoulders as he ran, weary. Everynne herself felt weary to the core of her soul, and she knew she needed more help. She needed a man like Gallen, and she considered taking him for a servant. She studied him as she ran.

After thirty minutes, Gallen reached a hill where a trio of tall stones hid them. Inside this natural fortress, he called a halt. He stood panting and asked Veriasse, “Those vanquishers, will they try to follow our tracks or are there enough of them so that they can beat the brush and force us out of cover?”

Veriasse heaved for air, said, “They will hunt us both by scent and by track. Gallen, we must take great care. If they have already found the gate, they will be guarding it. We will need to sneak up to it. Yet with vanquishers at our heels, we cannot afford to be timid.”

Gallen considered. “You said that the vanquishers can kill from a distance, and they carried rods like the one you have. Is this the weapon they use?”

“It’s called an incendiary rifle,” Veriasse said. “When you discharge the weapon, it fires chemicals that burn very hot.”

“So it’s something like a flaming arrow?” Gallen asked.

“Yes, only far hotter. Where we come from, some creatures can only be killed with such a weapon. It has become our weapon of choice.”

“How does it work?” Gallen asked. Everynne was surprised at how casually he asked it. She imagined that the young man, being a Backward from such a low-tech world, would find such weapons to be somehow shocking. But Gallen asked in a brusque, businesslike manner.

Veriasse held the weapon up for Gallen to examine. “Down here under the guard is a trigger. When I pull it once, the weapon becomes active and a red beam of light shoots from this lens above the barrel.” He pointed the rifle at a stone, and the red dot of a laser shone on the rock. “You will also feel a vibration in the weapon when it’s active. Whatever the red dot shines on, that is what you will hit if you pull the trigger a second time.”

Veriasse flipped the weapon on its side, pointed to a little indicator light. “These lights show how many more shots you can take with the weapon.” His indicator showed ten shots.

“How far can it shoot?” Gallen asked.

“Officially, it can fire about a hundred and fifty yards,” Veriasse answered. “But the flames can carry farther if you aim high. You must never fire at an opponent who is too close—unless you want to burn with him. Once the weapon sits without firing for three minutes, it deactivates.”

Gallen touched the rifle’s stock. “This can kill an ogre?”

“Yes,” Veriasse said.

“How tough are they?” Gallen asked.

“There are three main types of vanquisher,” Veriasse answered. “Orick here killed a tracker last night—a creature with long legs and arms that walks on all fours. The ‘ogre’ that you saw is one of their infantry. They are tough warriors, and I would not advise you to fight them in hand-to-hand combat. They are very strong. Still, their vital organs are much the same as ours.

“In days gone by, my people created these creatures as guardians, to keep the peace on many worlds. But things have changed. The dronon warriors conquered our people and enslaved our guardians. The dronon are the third kind of vanquisher, and the most dangerous.”

“Dronon?” Maggie asked, panting. Her face was pale, frightened.

“You saw one back in town,” Veriasse said. “You called him Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies. He is really a dronon, a Lord Vanquisher from another world. Sixty years ago, his people came among us, and they were wise in the ways of war. At first, we tried to help them. But they envied our technology and sought to take it. They captured many worlds. Now, any guardians who were not slain all serve the dronon vanquishers. On some worlds, even humans serve the dronon’s Golden Queen and her empire.”

Gallen stood up, seeming to have caught his wind. “We’ll need to keep to the trees so that they can’t shoot us, and I’ll lead them on some trails that will be hard to follow. If we can shake them off our track, we won’t have to rush to the gate.”

Gallen took off running. He set a path that the vanquishers would be hard-pressed to follow. He zigzagged between growths of jack pine, where the trees grew so close together that their branches formed a nearly impenetrable wall. Twice he made great circles so that his scent would be strong, then led the others over dry logs where no footprints would show, where even their scent would not hold.

When he had done all he could to obscure his trail, Gallen led them to a cave at the base of a mountain. He took the group to the largest opening, then at the black mouth of the cave he hesitated to enter.

“What’s wrong?” Everynne asked.

“This cave,” Gallen said, “has narrow passages and five openings. If we want to lose the vanquishers, we could go in here. But the cave is haunted by wights. We’ll need to light a fire and take torches in to hold them at bay.”

“We shouldn’t go in,” Maggie said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Wights?” Veriasse asked. “What is a wight?”

“A spirit. If someone is too curious and breaks the laws of the Tome, the priests give the person to the wights.”

“Surely you don’t believe in ghosts?” Veriasse said. “There’s no such thing. Have you ever seen such a thing?”

“Not ghosts,” Gallen said. “These are wights. I’ve seen them more than once: there was an old woman in our town, Cally O’Brien, who experimented with herbs. One night the wights came and dragged her off screaming, down the road to An Cochan. No one ever saw her again.”

Neither Veriasse nor Everynne looked as if they believed Gallen. “What he says is true,” Maggie offered. “Wights are real. At night you can see their soulfires glowing blue and green in the forest.”

Everynne and Veriasse looked at each other and spoke simultaneously, “Artefs!”

But Veriasse asked, incredulous, “What would an artef be doing here?”

“Guarding this world,” Everynne said. “Keeping its people in enforced ignorance. That is what their ancestors wanted, a world where their children could hide from the problems of a universe too large to control. I’ll bet the original settlers downloaded their intelligences into artefs.”

“So you’re knowing the wights by another name, are you?” Orick asked. “You have them in the realm of the sidhe?”

“Yes,” Everynne said. “We
make
them in the realm of the sidhe. They are simply machines that store human thought. We can travel through your cave safely.”

“I’m warning you—the sunlight does not penetrate these caverns,” Gallen said. “Inside, it is as dark as night.”

“Sunlight weakens artefs,” Veriasse said, “because the radio waves cast by your sun confuse them, leave them unable to think. But an artef can’t withstand an incendiary rifle.”

Gallen gulped, obviously still afraid. He led them in through a narrow chasm. He took Everynne’s slim hand and pulled her through the dark. She could feel him trembling. She did not know if he feared this place still, or if he simply trembled at her touch. Often, men reacted that way to her. It was a mistake to let him touch her.

Gallen felt his way along a wall until he bumped his head on a rock outcropping, then took a side tunnel. After several hundred feet, he reached a narrow passage, then took another left where the cavern branched; they began climbing a steep slope filled with rubble. Dripping water smacked loud as it dropped to unseen puddles. Everynne struggled to keep from slipping on wet rock. The air had a faintly metallic smell, and Everynne hurried to get out. In the distance, she thought she saw sunlight shining through an exit, but instead a ghostly green apparition began leaping toward them through a large chamber.

It was an old man with muttonchop sideburns and a bushy mustache. He wore a leine without a greatcloak, and short boots. The wight stood quietly, gazing at them in the dark. Its phosphorescent skin let Everynne see the walls of the cave immediately around them, and she was surprised at the jumbles of stone, the numerous stalactites and stalagmites.

The wight asked cordially, “What are you doing in my cave? Don’t you know that this forest is haunted?”

“Off with you!” Gallen said. “I’ll not have you barring our way!”

“Och, why it’s Gallen O’Day,” the wight said merrily. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you in these woods.” But the wight studied Everynne, looking at the silver net she wore in her hair. It made a tsking noise and shook its head. “You’re in a tight spot, Gallen—consorting with strangers from another world. Didn’t your mother ever warn you against such things? Didn’t she ever tell you what happens to curious boys?”

“Get back!” Gallen hissed. “We only want to pass.”

The wight studied Veriasse’s incendiary rifle. “Oh, I’ll leave for now, Gallen O’Day. But it’s sure that you can’t shake me off so easily.” The wight backed into a side tunnel, and ducked around a corner.

They hurried through the cave, climbing treacherous outcroppings, dropping down into crevices. The wight paced along behind them, crawling through the rocks. Soon another joined, and another, until Everynne counted a dozen of the creatures shadowing them through the cave. For a long way, their dim glow provided the only light for Everynne to see by.

The group reached the sunlight, and Gallen fell down to the forest floor, gasping. His face was pale, and Everynne realized that entering the cave must have been a great ordeal for the man, being a Backward who believed the wights to be invincible spirits. Soon Orick and Maggie rushed out behind them. Maggie’s eyes were wide. Gallen looked up at Maggie, and he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Maggie asked.

“Nothing is funny,” Gallen said. “I just feel good.”

Gallen got up and led them south a half mile to a steep slope that descended into a valley. A fire had recently burned the ridge, and large boulders dotted the ground. The soil around the stones had eroded away so that often the slightest touch could send a boulder tumbling downhill, and Everynne saw that Gallen was thinking ahead. A vanquisher, with its enormous feet, would be tempted to step on the boulders, and she imagined how it would go tumbling down in the resulting landslide.

At the bottom of the ravine, Gallen headed west, marching his followers down the channel of a rocky creek. Mosquitoes buzzed around their faces, and often mallards would fly up from the water. In one place where the channel narrowed and the water deepened, Gallen pulled up a small tree, sharpened it into a stake, and pushed it down into the mud where no one could see. It took only a moment. So far, they had traveled a little over five miles in eight hours. Everynne hoped that his tactics would give them more time in the long run.

They reached the shelter of the forest again at the valley floor, and there they rested for a few moments. Maggie was gasping, sweat pouring from her brow. They were all dirty and thoroughly worn. They had to rest.

From the mountain above them nearly half a mile back, a deep voice boomed: “Vanquishers, to me!”

The vanquishers had already found their exit from the caves. Gallen cursed under his breath and looked helplessly to Veriasse.

Veriasse studied Gallen’s face. “You’ve done well,” he said at last, and Gallen furrowed his brow, as if struggling to understand Veriasse’s accent. “You’ve set as difficult a trail for the vanquishers as they could possibly hope to follow, but we must run now. We cannot afford more delays.”

Up on the mountain, there was a rumbling roar and a scream as a vanquisher learned just how treacherous the trail was. Gallen stepped into a clearing where a tree had fallen. Everynne followed and looked up the mountain. Two humanoid infantrymen were helping a tracker to his feet.

“Veriasse,” Gallen asked, “may I try your weapon?”

Veriasse handed Gallen the incendiary rifle. Gallen raised it. The barrel bounced a bit until he held his breath, relaxed his muscles, pulled the trigger. He frowned a second, obviously having expected the gun to discharge, then raised the gun a second time. Everynne could not see the red dot from the laser scope, but up on the hill, the ogres must have seen it. They suddenly released the tracker and leapt aside. Gallen pulled the trigger. A plume of white-hot chemical fire soared through the air, splashed over the tracker. The creature screamed briefly and burst into flame, then dropped in a pile of melting bones.

Gallen handed the rifle back to Veriasse. “That might keep them off our trail for a bit.”

Gallen raced northwest. He led them on a clear path through deep woods, yet Everynne knew that the vanquishers would be able to run here just as easily. With their long legs, they would run even faster.

At last he reached a grove of pine-houses. Centuries before, perhaps, a town had nestled in this river valley, but it had been abandoned. Seeds from pine-houses had dropped to the ground, and a veritable city of hollow trees grew so close to one another that their trunks had fused.

No one could hope to walk through this section of wood. It was virtually impenetrable.

“We’ll go through here,” Gallen said.

“We’ll never make it through that mess,” Veriasse objected.

“I used to play here when I was a child,” Gallen answered. “There are paths through the trees, if you’re willing to climb a bit. This grove is eight miles long and two or three miles wide in most places, but up here a ways, it’s only a quarter of a mile across. We’ll go through there.”