The Kingdoms of Evil (66 page)

"Whoa, there!" The barbed mandibles quivered and a piping little voice cried out at them. "Whoa, I said!" The head jerked in annoyance. "Whoa, by all that's wicked, or so help me, I shall slice your brainless head right off!"

Istain blinked, trying to decide whether he was more terrified or confused. Was the giant bug
talking
to him?

"And drip none of your digestive enzymes on him, either," the voice continued, high pitched, piping, and not at all appropriate for a monster as threatening as this one.

"Thank you for stopping it," said Madene through his mouth. Oh, obviously, there was someone
controlling
the monster, a person of some kind. Of course, not everything in Skrea was a monster. Istain relaxed slightly.

"'Thank you?'" said the voice. And Istain saw something pale hump up behind the head of the monster on top of him. "I believe that is the first time I have ever been thanked," said the huge-eyed, grub-like creature riding on the back of the giant bug, "Life is full of new experiences."

There were three flying monsters, four if you counted the grubby bug-rider, who seemed to be their spokesman.

"A maggot-man," Madene identified it.

"You are correct, Do-Gooder," it said. "Get up slowly, now. Make no sudden movements, or I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my steed."

Istain swallowed and moved slowly to his hands and knees, then his feet. As he stood, the other two monsters came into view. Istain might have fallen again, except Madene seized control of his legs.

"Quite impressed," repeated the maggot-man. "To think that something dead could fly and carry people with it. And now," serrated forelimbs snicked up into ready position. "You will tell us, scum, why you were shouting the name of our Ultimate Fiend as the torns attacked you."

"You're welcome," Madene muttered, presumably for Istain's benefit.

The killing limbs twitched. "What was that?"

"Ahum," Istain cleared his throat, and then swallowed again, his eyes focused on the points of those poised appendages. There was no way he could grasp his gun and shoot this thing before it trepanned him. "We were…I was calling out his name, because I know him. Freetrick. I mean, Feerborg. I mean, your king."

"How do you know the name of the Ultimate Fiend?" Rasped one of the other monsters—the one that looked like a skinned monkey with bat wings. "Except by foul treachery?"

"Or by striking
growing
up with him," Istain said. His presence of mind could return, he noticed, as long as he didn't focus on the giant, hideous bug bearing down on him. "What did you think he'd been doing for the past twenty years? Hanging upside-down in a cave?"

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" The monster flapped its enormous ears at him and bared its six-inch fangs.

"What I meant to say," Madene said with Istain's voice, "is that he's my friend. We go to college together."

"And we grew up together," Istain added. "So if you kill me, he'll be royally pissed."

The monkey-bat snarled at them and took a step forward. Powerful talons on its splayed toes gouged the Bleaklands' dust.

"Be still, Jabber" said the Maggot-man, "Now, the important question is, does the Ultimate Fiend expect your visit?"

"Yes?"

Both the monkey-thing and the grub-thing grinned. The third monster did not, because it didn't have a face.

"I thought not," the Maggot-man went on. "In that case, it is most lucky for you we found you before you perished in these Bleaklands." He removed one sucker from the reins of his insectile mount and gestured at the miles of flat and barren waste around them.

"Lucky?" Growled Jabber, the monkey-thing, "you are not thinking of letting them live, Chrittle?"

Istain's fists clenched.

"Indeed," the spokes-thing blinked large, liquid, black eyes, "his Fiendishness is certain to entertain an interest in this intruder."

"His dark lordship knows nothing about this outsider scum. What he does not know, he cannot punish us for. Plus, I have heard that the flesh of men is a dish to be savored." Jabber looked at him with an expression that set Istain's skin crawling.

"Then perhaps his dark lordship will allow you to eat him after he is done," said Chrittle.

"He will not!" Istain blurted.

"Do stay out of this," Chrittle twitched his reins and his mount's gigantic chelae flexed at him threateningly. Istain's mouth shut.

"Oh yes," Jabber sneered, "because that is what is most important, is it not? To make his dark lordship happy?"

"Istain!" Istain jerked as Madene moved his lips. "Can you understand me?" Her words made no noise—she was barely even moving his mouth—but Istain could feel his tongue and throat working as she subvocalized at him. Cool.

"Yes," he replied the same way.

"I provide service in return for favors, not being executed chief among them." Chrittle had turned around in his little saddle and was facing Jabber as they argued. Only the giant bug was still paying attention to them.

"I think you should shoot Jabber," Madene subvocalized.

"I can't," said Istain, "if the bug sees me grab my gun, it'll kill me—us."

"Reciprocity is a simple game, Jabber," Chrittle was saying, "though obviously too complex for
you
to play."

"I don't think so," said Madene, "The giant insect doesn't appear to be intelligent, and even if it was, the Skreans shouldn't know what guns are."

"Yeah, but will the other guy, Chrittle, be happy that we killed his partner?"

"Do they
seem
all that close, Istain?"

Istain focused on Jabber, who had spread 15-foot membranous wings and now flapped up a cloud of gray dust at his partner. "Nonsense!" He screeched. "You pretend to be motivated by Evil, Chrittle, but I know you secretly
enjoy
being the dark lord's toady… and a
good
and
loyal
servant."

The insectile mount under Chrittle twitched as his suckers jerked on the reins. Istain wasn't good at reading expressions on the monster, but he was sure he could interpret the distinctly un-grub-like fangs exposed by its snarl. "You take that back, Jabber."

"Why do you not make me, maggot!" spat Jabber. "You think you are so mighty, but without your steed, what are you but a snack?"

"And yet, here my steed is."

The enormous wings stopped flapping. They hung cocked, like sardonic eyebrows. "Not if I remove it from the playing field."

Istain didn't say anything. He simply reached out, slowly, and grabbed his pistol. Then, again, slowly he aimed it at Jabber. The giant bug did not react.

"Oh, you have some secret way to disable my mount?" Chrittle squeaked, "Some clever, strategy? Only consider what would happen if you used it, and forced me to enact the contingency plans
I
have formed against
you
, Jabber."

"Well," said Istain, "I propose that you—
yeeargh!
" Istain jerked backward as something like a rope made of acidic snot wrapped itself around his neck. His arm spasmed and his bullet whizzed over Jabber's head.

The third monster burbled something incomprehensible as it tightened a nest of squirming tentacles around Istain's throat.

Chrittle sighed, "You are right as always, Clump. Once again our Skrean impulses toward chaos and discord have put us at a tactical disadvantage. Jabber, as much as I treasure our mutual animosity, you surely concede that we must work together to defeat a greater foe."

"You are a chattering fool, Chrittle," said Jabber, relaxing from his fighting stance and glaring over Istain's shoulder. "Well, Clump?"

"Yes. Well, Clump?" said Chrittle, swinging around in its saddle, "You have the prisoner. What shall we do with him?"

Clump burbled, and the rope of snot around Istain's throat tightened.

***

Istain closed his eyes as the ground dropped away under him. His shoulders burned with pain, either because of some secretion from the gelatinous Clump or the iron-strong grip of Jabber's feet, or both. The monkey-bat creature's enormous wings pumped above him like industrial bellows as he strained to carry their combined weight.

"Istain, you are a terrible warrior," Madene subvocalized at him.

"Well, I'm sorry," he mouthed back at her, "So I forgot one of the monsters was there. I've never done this before. And I didn't hear
you
warning me I was about to be enveloped by the flying striking spaghetti monster."

"Your eyes were pointed the wrong way."

"Well," Istain winced as a particularly hard down-stroke yanked up on his shoulders. "Next time
you
control my body while
I
lie back and heckle you."

"If only," his mouth muttered back at him.

"Look, I'm just glad we're riding under
this
monster, and not inside the
other
one."

"We couldn't be. Clump and that giant insect aren't efficient enough fliers to carry us. I don't think it's a coincidence that Jabber is the best flier and most…uh…"

Istain glanced up "…not weird looking?"

"Yes. But even this one is not as good at flight as the giant birds." She moved his eyes up, past the flexing chest muscles of Jabber, to the other two monsters silhouetted against the clouds above them. "The bird monsters were like…real animals. Products of natural selection, at least partly. But these things are more like…art projects."

"Technology, not biology." Istain whispered. "I suppose it makes sense."

Istain squinted at the two monsters above them. They seemed to be flying more or less straight up, Chrittle crouched low between the blurred wings of his mount, and Clump inflated into a buoyant tear-drop shape. Something was bothering him. Something about the monsters? No, animals were Madene's thing. Istain's thing was…what?

"No they didn't." Istain flipped through his memory, "they said, 'his Fiendishness.'
Freetrick
they call 'the Ultimate Fiend.'"

"So? Maybe the Ultimate Fiend is also a Fiendishness. That would make sense."

"Or," said Istain, "They're taking us to someone else. Hey!" He called up at Jabber, flapping over their head, "Jabber? Where are we going?"

"Shut up!" Jabber's claws twisted agonizingly into Istain's shoulders.

"Good job." Madene let Istain experience the jagged pain while she peered up at the roiling clouds above them. "Why did you even bother? We're clearly headed for that thing."

"Amazing," Madene squinted Istain's eyes at the reddish lozenge-shaped thing above them. "Istain, do you know what that must be?"

"A giant floating dildo," said Istain, "please stop making me stare at it."

"It must be some sort of highly modified squid," Madene murmured, ignoring him. "Held aloft by…what? Magic? Hot air? Or a lighter-than air gas?"

"It is the
chogorrenyth
, the monster that travels quickly through the air." Jabber said, and Istain's shoulders screamed again as bat-creature's wings pounded down. The chogorrenyth seemed to swell, then turn as they swooped around it. There was brief and localized hurricane as Jabber braked, pain flared across Istain's shoulders and back, and then he thudded against a rough, yielding surface.

Istain felt himself tipping sideways, reached out, and snatched a handful of thick rope. He blinked. The curving, whale-sized back of the chogorrenyth was covered in a net of rope, like ship's rigging. The huge monster rumbled under him, like an upset stomach.

"Hold the rope, blast you!" snarled Jabber from behind them. "Tempest above, my sinews ache from hauling your bulk! Hold the rope with all your limbs; else all my effort will be wasted."

Istain saw Chrittle and Clump twining themselves into the rope. He tried to ignore the pain in his shoulders and do the same.

"Why would we have to strap ourselves in so tightly?" Madene asked him.

"I don't striking know," Istain twisted his arms around the scratchy, fibrous ropes. "So we don't fall and die?"