The Last Protector (37 page)

The troops fell back slightly, staying out of Ol’ Red's range and trying to wear Scrornuck down with pikes and arrows. He batted them away like annoying insects, but in time started slowing down, as the wild energy of his initial rage wore off and the day's abuse caught up with him. Both hands felt cold and stiff, and his left hand felt heavy and weak, barely able to signal his intentions to Ol’ Red's grip. The great sword seemed strangely slow and unresponsive, almost like an iron blade. He started taking wounds from the pike-carriers as he spun and danced, struggling to fight a battle on all sides at once.

You might not get out of this one, he thought, as he cut down another attacker, but also received another wound in his side. The thought wasn't particularly disturbing—he hadn't expected to survive as long as he had in this job, and at least he'd made sure Jape and Nalia had time to get away. He glanced at the stairway, confident that he'd see they were gone.

They weren't. Jape and Nalia still stood at the top of the stairs, watching the battle as though it were some kind of entertainment. “Get out of here!” he bellowed, “I can't hold them much longer!"

The archers launched yet another volley, and a swordsman ducked beneath the flying arrows and charged. Scrornuck felt a sudden, searing pain as the attacker left a deep gash in his right thigh. He whipped about, Ol’ Red's blade crackling as it sliced the man in half, but as he kicked the body back at the attacking soldiers he felt something give in his wounded leg. He staggered, struggling to remain on his feet as the archers again let fly. Ol’ Red's blade flicked wildly, batting the arrows away, but as he swung to his right he felt the tip of a pike rip open his right arm, just below the shoulder. He spun about on his left leg, letting the wounded right drag along, and brought his sword down to dispatch this latest attacker. Ol’ Red's blade tore through the plastic armor as if it were paper, but for an instant his grip weakened and the great blade flickered.

Scrornuck twisted and ducked as another swordsman moved in, swinging for his neck. Ol’ Red flicked upward, deflecting the attack, but he staggered under the impact as the flat side of the iron sword slammed against his right shoulder. He spun the other way, and in an instant he ripped this latest attacker open from neck to hip. But in that instant Scrornuck saw another sword slashing toward him. Instinctively he sucked in his stomach and backpedaled. As the sword's tip grazed the skin of his belly, the fibersword's blade shot out and impaled the soldier—but a heartbeat later Scrornuck felt a pain in the back of his left leg as a spear stabbed him, just above the top of his boot.

The wounded leg gave way, and Scrornuck went down on one knee, catching himself with his left hand. He no longer had enough feeling in his right to control Ol’ Red, and the sword's blade flickered away. The soldiers surged forward.

A pike-carrier moved in from behind, jabbing his weapon at Scrornuck's back. Still on one knee, Scrornuck whirled about to face this attacker and raised Ol’ Red, struggling to make that tired hand do something. For a frozen instant the soldier stared into the black hole that was the sword's business end. A moment later white light exploded in his face.

Blood, bone chips and bits of brain tissue showered over the soldiers as Ol’ Red's blade pulverized the soldier's head. Scrornuck staggered back to his feet, roaring
"I'm not dead yet!"
He glared defiantly at the Captain, his sword twisting and crackling like some kind of living thing. She smiled, her hand resting lightly on the knife she'd soon use to skin this demon.
"God damn you, bitch!"
he howled.
"I'll see you in hell!"

For an instant he stopped. What did I say, he thought, overcome with shame. For while he could make a sailor blush in thirty different languages, his father had taught him never, never to blaspheme. He despised himself for losing control of his tongue, and he burned with hatred toward the Captain for bringing him to this. With a wail of rage, he staggered forward to attack, only to fall back as an arrow slammed into his left thigh. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the shaft from his leg. It was only a target-practice arrow, not barbed or hooked, so it came out easily. He held it in his hand, staring, as a second struck his right shoulder. Oh, well, he thought, everybody dies eventually. He slowly reached up to remove this arrow, hardly noticing that Ol’ Red's blade had again flickered away to nothing. For a moment he paused, resigned to his fate, simply trying to decide which of the soldiers he would take to the grave with him. Then he raised his sword for one last attack...

"Mister Saughblade, watch it with that thing,” a familiar, calm voice said.

"What the...” Scrornuck spun to his left and saw Jape standing next to him, calmly inspecting the carnage. Nalia stood to his right, her expression queasy but determined, holding a bow and several arrows she'd taken from one of the archers.

I've lost it now, Scrornuck thought, I'm seeing things. He blinked and shook his head as he tried to make these apparitions disappear. They wouldn't. Cautiously, he reached out with one bloody hand to touch Jape's shoulder. It was real, solid. “Jape?"

"In person."

"What the hell are you doing here?” Scrornuck hissed, angry that Jape and Nalia weren't getting themselves to safety before he died. “Get out while you still can!"

"What, and leave you behind?” Jape asked, his voice still absurdly calm. “What kind of friend do you think I am?"

"A dead one, if you stay here! What part of
'we're all gonna die!'
don't you understand?"

"I don't think Nalia and I are in any danger,” Jape said, and Scrornuck suddenly realized that the soldiers had ceased their attack. “Not yet, anyway. It's you they want, Mister Saughblade.” He pointed toward the Captain, who stroked the edge of her skinning-knife as she directed her troops into position for their next attack. “What did I tell you about getting involved with local women?"

"Huh?” Scrornuck stopped, thought, and realized that this whole battle had indeed been nothing more than a grudge between him and the Captain. Another great wave of shame passed through him as he realized he'd abandoned his duty to settle a personal score. Tears crept into his eyes, his legs started to tremble, and for a second he had to lean on Nalia to remain standing. “I'm sorry—"

"Perhaps I should just let you two kill each other,” Jape mused. “But Nalia seems to have taken a liking to you...” He touched a small button on his sleeve, and Scrornuck heard a faint humming sound.

"Take them!” the Captain cried. “Capture the outsider and the traitor, slay the Dizzer!” The soldiers moved to carry out the order, and the ring of swords and pikes tightened.

One of the archers raised his bow. In a flash, Nalia released an arrow that struck the man squarely in the wrist. “Second in my age-group,” she said proudly.

A fierce, primitive roar burst from Scrornuck's throat as he staggered in a circle around Jape and Nalia, swinging his weapon with his last bit of energy, pushing the attackers back and hacking apart three who'd gotten too close. Limping badly, his grip on Ol’ Red unsteady, he stumbled back and leaned on Jape's shoulder. “I hope you've got a plan,” he whispered.

"As a matter of fact, I have something up my sleeve this time.” Jape stood a bit taller and cupped his hands together. Fed by beams from his rings, a ball of white light began to form in his hands. The soldiers dropped back a step. “Just a minute..."

"I don't think we have that long."

"Let's see if an incantation will scare them back a bit.” Jape raised his hands and waved the glowing ball at the soldiers as he chanted, as mystically as he could:

Eye of bat, wing of toad,

Paint your body blue with woad,

Why not do it in the road?

Unimpressed, the soldiers closed in.
"Skip to the loo my darling,"
Scrornuck whispered grimly.

"Thirty seconds,” Jape said.

Scrornuck felt something vibrating against his back. The Setron wanted attention? Tentatively, he placed a hand on the instrument's grip and let it talk to him. He smiled weakly as he understood. “I think you've got the right idea,” he told Jape. “We just need to do it a little louder.” He struggled with his numb fingers, letting the machine guide him to the right opening chord. “A little louder, and maybe in Japanese!” With that, he sang his own “incantation,” a random collection of Japanese curses and insults, shrieked and bellowed with no particular tune. The Setron accompanied him with howls, whistles and deep rumbles that shook the floor. The soldiers hesitated, seemingly disoriented. More than a few doubled over and puked on their boots like drunkards in the alley behind Syb's. Even the Captain made a dash for the railing, desperately trying to keep from tossing her cookies in front of her troops. Scrornuck's own stomach churned, and he wondered how Jape and Nalia were doing as he played the awful music.

"Now,” Jape whispered, pulling Nalia close as Scrornuck crashed to the floor next to her. Blinding white light erupted around them, the floor shook and an earsplitting roar filled the air. Scrornuck saw nothing but the silhouette of Jape and Nalia, safely contained with him in a protective bubble at the heart of the inferno. After several seconds, which seemed much, much longer, the roaring died down. The light slowly faded to yellow, then orange, then red, and finally disappeared entirely.

The sun shone in the deep blue sky of late afternoon, and Scrornuck realized the tower's roof and most of the stone railing surrounding the observation platform had been blown away. Only small sections remained near the stumps of the support pillars. The floor was scorched black beyond an eight-foot circle centered on Jape. Aside from a few incinerated pieces of flesh slammed against the sections of railing that still stood, nothing remained of the fifty-odd attackers.

Nalia stared in disbelief. “What the hell was that?"

"I call it a Dragonsneeze,” Jape said. “A bigger version of the weapon I used on the security-shack door."

"Crude, ugly...” Scrornuck said, struggling to a semi-kneeling position before collapsing in a tangle of bloody arms and legs. “No style at all."

"Stylish or not, it saved your ass, Mister Saughblade."

"It killed everybody?” Nalia asked, staring at a charred lump that had been a soldier just a few minutes ago.

"I'm afraid so.” Jape's voice was detached, all business. “I'd hoped I wouldn't have to use it, but..."

She held her hand over her mouth. “I think I'm gonna be sick."

Jape waited patiently while Nalia upchucked. When she finished, he said, “I warned you that this is a tough business.” He held out his blood-red ring. “This is what matters—if it's not green by Saturday afternoon, your world dies. We need to find the Orb, and soon."

Nalia spat a couple times. “The Captain offered to take you to it."

"And I wish I could have taken her up on that offer. But she insisted on killing Mister Saughblade first. That's a price I wasn't willing to pay."

"Glad to hear that,” Scrornuck said, again attempting to stand. This time he made it to his knees, but then his hand slipped in a puddle of blood that was mostly his own and he again went sprawling. “Ow! Why me?"

"Good question.” Jape stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This was a costly operation: fifty-some soldiers and a remote-controlled dragon. The Captain said it was a trap for you. What makes you such an important target?"

"Maybe she was mad about where I put her tongue on Friday night.” Scrornuck tried to smile at the memory. Smiling hurt.

Jape shook his head. “No doubt she hated you, but I don't think she had the resources to raise an army like this. Nalia, back at the security office, what did you find in the dead soldiers’ pockets?"

"Each one of them had a gold piece.” She blushed. “I didn't think you saw me."

"So, this cost at least fifty gold pieces. Do you think the Captain had access to that kind of money?"

"Probably not, unless the Mayor was in on the plot."

"I think it's more likely that the mysterious Lord Draggott produced those gold pieces. But why?” He thought for a second, then shrugged. “I guess we'll find out. For the moment we've got a more important question: Mister Saughblade, can you get up?"

"I'll need some help.” Jape and Nalia grabbed his arms and pulled hard. Slowly, painfully, Scrornuck made it to his feet and took a few tentative steps to see what kind of shape his legs were in.

"How do you feel?” Jape asked.

"Rubbery.” He could walk, but he weaved and winced on each step. “I'll need help getting down the stairs. Where's the first-aid stuff, anyway?"

"It's in my pack,” Nalia said, “down at the bottom of the stairs."

"Crap. I wish you'd brought it."

"Now I'm worried,” Jape said. “I don't think you've ever asked for first aid."

Scrornuck limped toward the stairs. “I thought this place was supposed to be an amusement park,” he said glumly. “I'm not having any fun at all."

"Just chew me out, will you?” Scrornuck said, as he slowly and carefully lowered himself to the floor of the tower's lobby. The descent had been long and painful, his physical discomfort made worse by his sense of having failed.

"Chew you out for what?” Jape asked innocently.

"For what I did up there. I could have picked those guys off one at a time, and then we could have made the Captain take us to Draggott on our terms. But I lost my temper, made it personal, got so obsessed with the bitch that I forgot why we're here.” His voice dropped and he stared at his feet. “I let you down. Just give me a good ass-chewing and get it over with, will you?"

Jape shrugged. “I'm disappointed—I've come to expect better from you. But it's over, I'm sure you'll learn from the experience, and you've chewed yourself out better than I ever could. Let's consider the matter closed.” Nalia arrived with the medical kit, and he took a closer look at Scrornuck's injuries. “In the meantime, Mister Saughblade, you've done a fine job of messing yourself up."

"Just a flesh wound,” Scrornuck said weakly.

"Flesh wound, my ass,” Nalia said. “You look terrible."