The Kingdoms of Evil (62 page)
As the pressure of the blade on his neck tore away, Freetrick toppled backward, out of range. He bounced on his ass, then tried to hop back to his feet. Before he could get his balance, though, someone else lunged at him from out of the crowd and whirled around in a kick. Freetrick dodged, and a scantily-clad thigh scythed through the air in front of his face before his back slammed into the flagstones. His pince-nez finally tore from his nose. Somewhere overhead, the man in fur was howling.
CRACK!
Freetrick twisted his head aside as a boot slammed down against his eyeglasses, the space where his face had been a moment before. Above him, someone laughed, fiendish, crazed, cruel, and…familiar? Freetrick's eyes could not focus on the face grinning above him, but they could resolve the boot, spiky, black, ridiculously high-heeled boot…
"Threatening the
Ultimate Fiend
, Baron Oozhass?" The harsh voice of Feerix cut through the rising chaos like a…well, like a sharpened thumb. "I thought you Fearmongers were supposed to be good at scaring people." His voice rose, apparently addressing the crowd, "If you seek to kill my
darling
half-brother, you shall have to wait until I have re-animated him. You see, his death is mine." Dark clouds formed over Feerix's head and he lifted the other man off his feet and threw him into Freetrick's face.
But Freetrick had managed to get his legs back under himself. He dodged as the other man tumbled through the air above him, and had barely enough time to scuttle sideways away from Feerix's swinging fist.
So everyone knew that he and Bloodbyrn hadn't had sex. Therefore Freetrick was…up for grabs? Or maybe he had just proved his uselessness to DeMacabre's faction. Which meant no one was protecting him. Except his powerless monsters. And maybe…Feerix?
Freetrick tried to back away from his brother, but his way was blocked. Skystarke and the ogres could do nothing. Necromancers boxed them in. "Feerix," he gasped, "where's Bloodbyrn?"
"With her father, of course." Feerix edged closer, "The fortunes of the Duke DeMacabre have taken a blow today, indeed. Is it any wonder that every dark noble who sees you attempts to twist the situation to their advantage? Now as for myself, you will remember I was trying to kill you before it became fashionable."
Freetrick hurled himself backwards as the sharp edge of his half-brother's gauntlet swung toward him. He reached for the necromantic energy to strike back.
And the Ultimate Fiend realized he had forgotten to kill anything today.
He had no defenses. Freetrick, terrified, looked up into the face of his brother.
Who smiled. "But not today.
"
He said. "I shall kill you, Feerborg son of Wrothborg, but not before you are an opponent worthy of me. Until then, he is mine!"
He leapt.
Freetrick ducked, and his half brother shot through the air over his head, slamming into the scantily-clad crowd behind him, and breaking the circle.
Freetrick dashed out from between the surprised women.
Fortunately, the door he, Skystarke, and Mr. Skree had come through was not far away. Freetrick's hand scrabbled at the rough stonework of the doorway as he swung himself through. Behind him, a sound like sheets being ripped apart in a blizzard indicated Mr. Skree following. And behind that, the shrieking, hungry and feminine.
***
"Strike it out, Skrea is dull."
"Well, what did you expect, Istain?"
For once, with the black and depressing Skrean desert unspooling below him, Istain was glad to hear Madene using his voice. "I don't know," he answered. "I knew that I wouldn't see plants or anything, but I thought I'd see…well,
something.
Monsters. Armies of ogres. Black castles. You know."
"What would the monsters eat, Istain? The darkness under the Maelstrom stops the food chain at its lowest link. If plants can't grow, animals can't survive."
"I guess so." Istain's eyes tracked over the rocks and dust below them. No wonder they called it the Bleaklands.
"Which was why there were so many monsters around the border," Madene continued.
"There were?"
"Yeah," one of his eyebrows rose, "didn't you see them?"
"No," said Istain, "and how did you? We're using the same eyes."
Madene shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I was paying more attention."
Istain grunted. The fact that Madene was more observant than he was, even though the same pair of eyes, was not a good sign. It wouldn't be easy to trick her into allowing him to bring down the Warrior Maiden government. With Freetrick's help, though, it might work.
"…under the Shadow," Madene was saying, "I wouldn't expect to see any animals except around those glowing crystals or maybe the lava pools." She moved Istain's eyes toward a one of the patches of dim red light that dotted the landscape. It said something about the place that pools and canals of lava were its most interesting feature. "Or carrion. Huh. You know, in a way, this is a lot like the benthic ecosystems in the Rationalist sub-marine canyon. Similar energy sources, darkness, except without the crushing pressure."
"Speak for yourself."
"Funny."
"I thought so." Istain angled toward the nearest lava canal. The glider lurched as hot air rising from the magma struck its fabric, and they began to spiral upward.
"Tenured Proctor Toloman was right," said Istain, "it isn't hard to stay up in the air. No rain, no wind to speak of, lots of hot air for lift."
As long as you didn't look down. Istain had seen something moving around the lava pit.
Swarming
. He was very glad he had decided not to crash their glider. He might only break a leg and then survive long enough for one of those swarming things to find him.
"That's good. We should stay in the air as long as we can. How much longer do we have?"
"How should I know?" said Istain, "it's not like any word-magic instrumentation will work here. I'd have to guess."
"So guess." She sounded nervous. Maybe Madene knew something about the things down by the lava that he didn't.
"Well, Toloman told me that the Skrean capital is about four hundred miles from the border, which, by the way, is just a little less distance than the current record for a one-way trip."
"Oh," she said faintly.
"And he said our top speed would be something like 40 miles an hour, which means the whole trip should take about half a day."
"Ten hours."
"Which is close to twelve hours, which is half a day, Madene."
She sniffed.
"On the other hand," Istain had to swallow before he could continue. "I'd never seen a hang-glider before last week, and I've been on a grand total to two practice flights." When, still coping with losing Selene and gaining Madene's voice in his head, Istain had been a less than perfect student.
The Bleaklands moved under them, but the black mound on the southern horizon, their destination, seemed to grow no closer.
Eventually, Istain's mouth moved, "maybe you can rest, while I take over?"
"They're still
my
arms, Madene," said Istain, "they'll be tired no matter who's controlling them."
"I am trying to be helpful."
"Fine." Istain let his arms go limp. There was a truly terrifying moment when nobody was controlling them and their grip on the handlebar loosened. Then Madene took over and his fingers tightened again.
"Hm." Madene said. Of course, she had found that it didn't matter who was controlling the arms. "I suppose lactic acid is lactic acid. The arms really just need a break. But. Well." Which meant that she was too stubborn to admit her mistake and give him back control. Istain fought for patience.
"What about this?" said Istain. "You keep control of the right one, and I'll take the left one and stretch it?"
There was a bit of mental shoving—something like two people switching places in a canoe—then Istain had his left arm back. Carefully, he relaxed his grip on the control bar, then stretched the limb's aching muscles.
"Better," said Istain.
"We're going to be all right until we land," said Madene. "We're not going to be too tired to fly, Istain. Right?"
Istain blinked. Or maybe it was Madene who blinked his eyes for him. Was the Silver Princess Madene a'Leagh actually looking to him for reassurance?
"If we fall out of the sky," said Istain, "you'll be first to know."
Air huffed out of his lungs in a her nervous chuckle.
"Well anyway," Istain looked out at the boring, boring desert before them. "at least we won't get lost." The clouds overhead and before him had arranged themselves into neat concentric rings, and the Skrean capital would be at the center, at the place on the horizon where red light flickered like bloody lightning over a conical mountain.
The air over the desert was warm and still, with only the occasional puff of hot air coming off lava on the ground. All they had to do was stay patient and fly toward the scariest-looking part of the sky.
the Fourteenth
In which the Ultimate Fiend thinks seriously
Freetrick strode through the corridors of Castle Clouds-Gather, his murderous brother behind him. As Freetrick approached, lords and ladies, dark, vicious, and flamboyantly horrible, tried to stop him, to involve him in their stupid games. He swept past them.
Freetrick Feend knew what he must do.
He had to make himself indispensible.
He had to arrange things so that at least one group of people needed him alive more than dead. It had to be a group that was strong. Or at least one that was very, very large.
Freetrick left Feerix at the door to his chambers, stomped past all the portraits of his disgusting ancestors, into his study.
"Argh," muttered Freetrick as walked across his monstrous fur carpet, "why didn't I think of this sooner?"
Today's meeting with Mr. Skree's buddies, this Slaughter Viewing. He would have to use it to find out how to get a hold on the monsters. What did they need? What could he offer them in return for their support?
Yes. Freetrick grinned as his fingers snapped the clasps on his black armor. He would make himself indispensible to the monsters, make himself the champion of all the secretaries, and farmers, and soldiers, and…and struck-out
latrine
boys in the nation. Then let the dark aristocracy hate him, let them plot. Let them order their servants to disembowel him and wait, and wait, and
wait,
and those orders would
never
get carried out!
Exactly
how
to get control of those monsters, well, that was something to find out at this Slaughter Viewing.
But first, yes, a bath. Freetrick had been looking forward to a bath in the big tub every since he had figured out how to get the spigots to release warm water and not ichor.
"Get some soap goblins in here," the Ultimate Fiend shouted as he strode toward his bedchamber, "Then something to eat!" Plans whirled in his head as he shed armor. "And plant or mushroom-based, remember. I did
not
appreciate the beetles yester---gwuh!"
Freetrick's plans went crashing out of his head when he walked into his bedroom and saw what was waiting for him there.
"Ahem!"
Who was waiting for him.
"Bloodbyrn?"
"Ahem!" she said again.
Who was waiting for him, naked, on his bed.
"Whuh-why…what are you doing here?"
Bloodbyrn was naked,
shackled
to his bed.
Freetrick took a backward step.
Bloodbyrn hummed at him. Aha, that was because her mouth was gagged.
Freetrick took another backward step, then another.
Then he turned around. "Mr. Skree!" He bellowed at the walls of his office. "Get DeMacabre in here
right
striking now!"
"Mmmh!" Bloodbyrn mumbled at him.
"You!" He shouted at her, "You just…just hang tight. Mr. Skree!" Freetrick yanked his office door open and strode down the hall of portraits, darkness billowing behind him like a cape. "DeMacabre!" How the hell had Bloodbyrn gotten into his rooms? Who had tied her to the bed? Was nowhere safe? Well,
of course
not! These were the Kingdoms of Evil! He turned around to go back into his office. "I want---oh."
"My lord! How positively
necrotic
to see you!" DeMacabre stood in the middle of Freetrick's office, smiling like a cannibal in an obesity clinic. "I trust, my lord appreciates his gift?"
Freetrick could only stare at him.
"My daughter!" DeMacabre shrieked loud enough to make the ogre body-guards wince. "Waiting for you! Ready for you." Freetrick leaned back as the Duke leaned closer. "…To do anything my lord might want."