The Kingdoms of Evil (30 page)

"Feerix, boy! By reacting so to the young Dark Lady's insults, you confirm them. You have your place in the circles of power, be content with that for now! And let your elders and betters rest their ears."

Feerix mumbled something down the front of his armor while Freetrick and the ancient villain in the mobile chair stared at each other.

"My lord," DeMacabre bowed as he walked, then put a hand on one of Freetrick's armor's metal spikes. The weight nearly toppled him. "Have you met His Fiendishness the Dark Prince Teirchoke, the Jaded, Despot Noggor? I believe he is…oh…what would it be my lord's sixth cousin, twice removed?"

"Exactly so, Dark Lord DeMacabre," said the decrepit necromancer from his pile of shambling furs, "For my dynastic line was founded by Yogchoke, who was great-uncle to Othborg the Hideous, both of them being descended from Graswug Kinslayer." The monocle winked in its nest of concentric wrinkles. "It is unspeakably terrible to make your acquaintance, my lord." Dark Prince Teirchoke the Jaded made a small, palsied bow.

"Nice—I mean terrible—to meet you," said Freetrick.

"Do not mind young Feerix," the old man quavered like a malevolent accordion. "He is nearly as much an idiot as my own grandson, you know," He said to DeMacabre. "Though not so much as my son was, Tempest help me."

Feerix made a noise like he was crushing rocks between his teeth.

"But please allow me to offer my condolences, my lord," Teirchoke continued, turning back to Freetrick, his chair still carrying him steadily forward as they walked.

"Condolences?" Freetrick did feel in the need for consolation, but he hadn't expected anyone in Skrea to sympathize.

"My condolences," said Teirchoke, "on the death of your father, king Wrothborg, my lord. May the blood never dry from his hands."

"Oh," said Freetrick, "yes. Uh, thank you."

Monocle and teeth flashed in tandem. "Such a shame you were unable to kill him yourself, my lord."

Freetrick sighed. "Yes," he said, "I guess someone else beat me to it. I uh, don't suppose you know who did?"

Teirchoke merely smiled, his face like that of an ancient and vicious shar pei. "It was me, my lord."

***

"Burning libraries." But Phinneas spoke the curse without venom, his voice pitched as if making a simple observation.

They burst from the forest as if borne by explosions: lizard-men and goblins, and of course wendigos, which appeared to be men.

Kendrick spun, and as the joy at the chance to kill rose, his attackers seemed to slow.
Kendrick's heart thundered in his ears and the monsters seemed to drift through air like cold syrup.
He watched as his hand moved with slow deliberation to his sheath, fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger. His feet left the ground. His arm swept out. The blade slid across the monster's throat…

And they crashed together into the dirt. Kendrick's compact weight bore down the goblin and its throat was open before it had a chance to even touch him with its claws or teeth. It shuddered and wheezed through a severed trachea and Kendrick noted how the monster's face was stretched forward, the jaw underslung and elongated.
Its eyes, though, were human enough, and the pain and shock in them was like a warm balm to Kendrick's soul. Would Madene disapprove?

Kendrick rolled back to his feet and swung around to face a thing like a hairy, long-armed man, teeth huge in an undersized head.
H
e brandished his dagger and its, big, mobile lips closed over its fangs.
So it knew to be afraid of him.
Good.

"Naobel!"
The second goblin went down in a skelter of limbs.
"Naobel!" Kendrick screamed again, and light blazed from the amulet on his chest.
The monster howled, and Kendrick kicked it savagely the bright, hot joy of another's pain briefly washing over and obscuring his own.

"Naobel!" And two lizard-men flinched back from him, squealed, and brought up clawed hands to cover their faces.
A wendigo's human face twisted as the light washed over it, going from grinning savagery to wide-eyed horror.
With a wordless shriek, the monster collapsed, clutching at its hair and weeping.

On the ground, the long-limbed monster writhed as its fur sloughed from it.
Its teeth were falling from its mouth, and its skull was deforming, bloating. "Naobel!"
When Kendrick kicked it, the skull tore apart like a rotten pumpkin, pressurized brains exploding out.

"Enough."

Hairy, muscle-chorded arms snaked around him from behind.
Kendrick screamed the name of his god, but the light from his talisman only illuminated the monsters before him, and the one behind only tightened its grip.
Kendrick's ribs creaked, he kicked, he gasped, and he was still.

"Enough," the monsters' leader said again, more quietly.
"Well," the wendigo turned slowly, surveying the clearing.
The bodies of Levanick and the Paladin had been joined by several monsters: lizard-men shot, ogres, goblins, and the other wendigo torn apart by the power of Between.
Phinneas stood before his own pile of monstrous bodies, held captive by another ogre.

"That…was…
lovely
," said the wendigo.
It was heavily-built rather than tall, with deep-set eyes and a heavy jaw. Its hair and beard were clipped short over a face rendered brutal by a broken nose and a wide, inhuman smile.

"What a mess," the monster cracked its knuckles together as it grinned at its prisoners, "what a fine, fine mess.
Just the sort of thing I should expect for dealing with Naobelites."
It glared at the body of the Paladin. "I cannot say I am sorry you shot him, although it is a shame you did not hurt him more."

The wendigo walked toward the body of the Paladin, face down in a pool of blood.
It stepped deliberately into the blood, then bent and dipped its finger into the pool.
Straightening, it held the finger before its eyes.
"Strange," it said, as if to itself, "I expected the blood of the Paladin would feel different from the blood of other men."
It stuck the finger into its mouth, closed its eyes, then shook its head.
"How disappointing."

"Don't—!" Kendrick tried to shout before the ogre holding him squeezed and all the air rushed from his lungs.

The wendigo looked at him.
There was a moment when the tightness of the skin around mouth and eyes, the swivel of the head on the neck, the hunch of the shoulders, betrayed the monstrous mind behind the human face and body.
But then its apparent humanity reasserted itself.
The wendigo straightened, its face smooth, and once again it appeared to be a rather short, stocky man.
Its eyes slid coldly over Kendrick as it scratched at its
beard with a blunt-fingered hand and licked its lips.

"Ah," it said, "the boy.
Yes.
You surprised me.
I predicted you would side with your Paladin against the Rationalist.
I was looking forward to making you kill him, in fact."

The ogre holding Kendrick jabbered something too debased to understand.

"No, we have to take the boy alive, too."

It gobbled back at him.

The wendigo prodded the body of the Paladin with a booted toe, "I think that would be rather putting all our eggs in one basket," it said cryptically, "but if he dies, I shall let you eat the corpse."

The other ogre, the one holding Phinneas, spoke.
This creature's mouth and throat, apparently less perverted than those of the monster that imprisoned Kendrick, made almost recognizable sounds.
"Kang we ee' tha Bvukurm den?"

"What Bookworm?" The wendigo raised an eyebrow at Phinneas, "Oh, him?
Certainly.
But first," its eyes slid to Kendrick.
"I think I do want to try that experiment."
It smiled.

The only way you can tell it's a wendigo…Kendrick shuddered.

"What is your name, boy?"
asked the monster, picking its way across the fallen bodies to stand before Kendrick.

Kendrick spat at the vile creature.

It sighed, "Just trying to be polite.
Courtesy is important," it continued, ignoring the spittle oozing down the front of its shirt. "Even here on the boundary between Light and Dark.
Especially here.
Wouldn't you agree?"
It stepped forward, and before Kendrick could move, it grabbed his lower face. "Do not spit at me again, by the way." Its voice was still calm, slightly amused. "Or I will hurt you."
Its thick, blunt fingers dug painfully into his lower jaw.
"I think you know you shouldn't give me an excuse to hurt you."

Kendrick did know. To the wendigo, his pain would be sweet as honey. As sweet as the suffering of monsters was to him. Kendrick, squinting painfully downward at the beast's face, saw it smile again.

"Now, as I said.
An experiment." The wendigo continued.
"I want to find out something, little Betweener, little engineer, little
Kendrick
. Friend to the new Ultimate Fiend. "I want to confirm
something I suspect.
Gablinger, release him."

The ogre's hairy arms relaxed and pulled away.
Kendrick was left standing on free, his face still encased in the fingers of the wendigo.

"Now," the wendigo said, "you know I can kill you nine ways before you can blink, little Betweener, so do not do anything stupid.
Just listen."

Kendrick breathed through his nose, trying to think of ways to kill the abomination.

"My Queen" said the wendigo, "has use for you, little Betweener, little engineer.
Little friend. That is a use that will keep you alive."

Kendrick could pull suddenly away.
But no, the ogre was still behind him. It would surely grab him if he tried to get away, and kill him if he attacked its master.

"But I think we need to prove that you have use, little friend," continued the Wendigo.

Well, did it matter if he died?
Surely if he slew this vile wendigo, the side of Good would benefit.
Did Kendrick have that courage?

"So," the wendigo moved aside, still gripping Kendrick's jaw.
Behind him, Kendrick could see
Professor-Colonel
Phinneas watching them, still held captive by the other ogre.
"Kill the Rationalist, little Betweener.
Kill that Rationalist, and I will let you live."

Ice flooded Kendrick's veins.
Somewhere, the other wendigo, the one he had touched with the light of Naobel, wept and wailed like a madman.

Phinneas's eyes were on him. Phinneas, murderer of the Paladin. All thoughts of suicide fled.
Kendrick felt his nails digging into the skin of his palms and forced his hands to relax.

"Why?" He managed to croak.

"Why? Why not?" The wendigo smiled. "This is the man who shot your Paladin. What more reason do you need, Betweener?"