Read The Last Protector Online
Authors: Daniel C. Starr
"You should see the other guys.” He modestly adjusted the folds of his kilt.
"Here, swallow this,” Jape said, opening a plastic pouch of red jelly. “It'll help replace the blood you lost."
"Yuck, this crap tastes worse than coffee.” Nonetheless, Scrornuck swallowed the vile goo.
"So what made you decide to sing to the soldiers?” Jape asked, uncorking a big tube of antiseptic.
"It was—
ouch!
That stuff hurts!—the Setron's idea. It tickled me and said I should sing."
Nalia made a face. “The tune just about turned my stomach."
"Those sour notes were its idea, too."
"Interesting.” Jape reached for the roll of wound-closing tape. He paused for a moment, looking at the roll and then at Scrornuck. “I don't know if we've got enough tape to stick you back together. We may have to use stitches."
"I don't think we have any thread."
"Then we'll use shoelaces."
With Scrornuck's wounds somewhat treated, they continued down the hill toward the beach. Jape and Nalia supported Scrornuck as he stumbled and staggered, one step at a time. Darkness came quickly as the sun sank below the crater rim. Jape produced a ball of light between his fingers, and they continued even more slowly.
"The Captain called you a Dizzer,” Nalia said. “Are you?"
"Beats me. What's a Dizzer?"
"Somebody who's come from outside, to loot our Temple and steal our worship. The priests say the Dizzers are trying to destroy our Temple so they can build their own false Temple in a false Taupeaquaah, where they'll worship a big rat.” She shuddered momentarily.
"Please
tell me you're not one of them."
Scrornuck shook his head. “No, I'm no Dizzer. You have my word on that. I'm just here to save the world.”
Of course,
he thought to himself,
if saving the world means knocking down that stinkin’ lizard's temple, I wouldn't mind one bit.
They had made it most of the way down to the security shack when Scrornuck saw eyes reflecting Jape's light. They moved forward slowly, and soon the light illuminated two wolves, standing over the slightly crisped and more than slightly eaten body of one of the Captain's soldiers. Scrornuck gazed into the wolves’ eyes. They stared back with the calm assurance of the predator. Carefully, he reached for Ol’ Red.
"You're in no condition to handle them,” Jape said.
"Nobody else around.” Scrornuck let go of Nalia's shoulder, took two steps forward, and crumpled to the ground. “This sucks."
Seeing him on the ground, one of the wolves took a step in his direction—and was suddenly flung backward, releasing one brief cry as an arrow pierced its heart, killing it instantly. The other turned and ran. Scrornuck saw Nalia holding her bow, another arrow ready. “Animals are made of meat,” she said. “Are wolves any good for food?"
"Good enough,” he said, hacking off one of the animal's haunches. “We'll have to slice it real thin or it'll be tough, but it'll be better than nothing.” His belly rumbled, as if in agreement.
They made camp outside the security shack, building a fire from the wood the Captain had intended to use to sacrifice Scrornuck. Nalia braved the stench and threat of scavengers to fetch water and several plastic-wrapped cushions from the building, while Scrornuck prepared the wolf-meat
yakiniku
style, sliced very thin and cooked on a hot rock in the fire. A little of the spice mixture he carried in his sporran seemed to tenderize the meat a bit, and all in all it tasted much better than he'd expected.
"Well, Mister Saughblade,” Jape said as he finished his meal, “time for us to catch some sleep. Nalia, you'll be keeping watch."
"Hey,” Scrornuck protested, “I'm the Protector here..."
"And you've been scorched, frozen, and wounded,” Jape interrupted. “You can hardly walk. Right now, you need rest—and if you can't go to sleep on your own, I've got things in the medical kit. Do I need to get them out?"
"No.” Scrornuck placed a couple cushions in a row and tried to find a comfortable position. “What a shit day,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and tried to doze off.
He couldn't, of course. For one thing, the weather was miserable. He longed for last night's camp, up in the dry, warm breeze atop the crater rim. Down here on the island, it was cold, damp and foggy. The moon, very close to full, was little more than a diffuse white splotch in the fog, and he tried without success to make out the silhouettes of the dragons he knew were somewhere overhead. After a while it felt like the world had shrunken to little more than the pool of light around the fire, surrounded by endless gray fog. It reminded him of the dank nights in his home land, where the men would huddle around the fire, fearing what might be in the darkness.
Sometime later—it was impossible to say just when, as time itself seemed to stop in the fog—lightning flashed in the murk, and the rumble of thunder filled the crater. A breeze blew up from nowhere, lifting the fog so that it now looked like the underside of a cloud layer spinning slowly around the island. He stared into the clouds, enchanted by the show as the lightning became more intense, with brilliant bolts and pale, flickering sheets in shades of yellow, orange and purple. The winds picked up further, roiling and churning the underside of the clouds.
The nearly continuous rumble of thunder awakened Jape just in time for the rain to start, a few sprinkles that within seconds became a downpour. He and Nalia grabbed what gear they could and took shelter beneath the security shack's overhanging roof. Scrornuck struggled to his knees, collapsed with a grunt, and decided he didn't feel like trying to run. He lay back on his makeshift bed and let the cold rain wash over him. Perhaps it would remove a little more of the day's filth.
The downpour lasted only a few minutes. Then the rain stopped and the clouds lifted, revealing a beautiful, star-filled sky with a gorgeous ring around the moon. Jape and Nalia returned to the fire, while Scrornuck dug the dirty towel from the day-pack and dried himself.
"What the hell was
that?"
Jape said as he shook the water from his cushion.
"You slept through most of it.” Scrornuck described the spinning-clouds-and-lightning show.
"Back home, it rains late on Monday and Thursday nights,” Nalia said. “It helps keep the streets clean."
"Hmm.” Jape thought for the better part of a minute before proposing an explanation: “I'll bet they're resurfacing the ice. They warm things up, create a short rain, and
voilà!
there's a smooth new surface for tomorrow's skaters."
"Clever.” Scrornuck shifted on his cushion, searching for a position that hurt a little less. “Ow,” he muttered, not finding one. “This sucks."
"Nonsense, Mister Saughblade—this is high adventure. Isn't that what you wished for when you left your little village?"
"You know something?” Scrornuck hauled himself to a half-seated position. “Adventures suck."
Jape nodded. “Tell me about it. When I was a kid, I thought my life was so dull, and I wished I could have great adventures and save the world. Now that I've spent years having adventures and saving worlds, I'd give anything for a quiet night at home with my family.” He sighed a long, weary sigh. “You're right. Adventures suck."
"Hah!” Nalia stirred the fire, sending sparks spiraling upward. “You've been having adventures so long that you've forgotten just how dull everyday life is. It won't be long before you're done here, and I'll be back to my everyday life, waiting on tables in some bar and wishing I had a chance to have big adventures and save the world."
Scrornuck found himself smiling, just a little. “Yeah, I'll heal, and then there'll just be stories of a grand battle."
"Not for me,” Jape said flatly. “When I started in this business, that was the way I felt. But now it's just a job to be done, and the sooner it's over, the better.” He pulled the hood of his cape up over his head and rolled over.
Scrornuck and Nalia stared at Jape, then at each other. “Well,” she said with a shrug, “I still think adventures are a good thing. We don't have enough of them here."
"I don't think he really meant what he said."
"I know he didn't."
"You read his mind?"
"I'm trying not to, but he leaks. I'm picking up thoughts all the time."
"So you finally admit you've got the talent,” Jape mumbled, rolling back over to join the conversation.
"Yeah,” she said, “I guess I don't have to pretend to believe any more."
"I think you were doing more than reading minds in the security office,” he said. “You had those soldiers hypnotized."
She nodded. “I was trying to mislead them, and keep them from looking at you."
"I wish you'd done that on the tower,” Scrornuck said, wincing as he shifted position.
"I tried,” she said, “but it didn't work.” She sighed. “That's the trouble with this talent—when it works, it's scary, and when it doesn't work, it's just frustrating."
"You're still a beginner,” Jape said. “You'll get better with practice.” He rolled over, and in seconds was snoring loudly.
Nalia leaned over Scrornuck and looked deep into his eyes. “I still can't read your mind, though."
"If Jape's right, nobody can,” he said. “Anyway, there's nothing much there to read. I'm too tired to think."
"Then I should give you something to think about.” She wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss that made him forget all about his aches and pains. And he found that he could indeed think, his thoughts were about her, and they were very pleasant thoughts indeed.
"Amen.” Kneeling on the floor of the security shack as the first rays of sun came through the door, Scrornuck finished his prayers for the soldiers he'd dispatched. The stench didn't bother him, nor did the buzzing of the flies—he'd shoveled out stables, and this wasn't much worse. What
did
bother him was the realization that he couldn't stand up. When he tried, something tore in his thigh and fresh blood trickled past the tape holding his wounds closed. There was nothing nearby to hold onto, and it was beginning to look like he'd have to crawl out, over and perhaps through the remains of the Captain's soldiers. With a long sigh, he slipped the prayer book into his sporran and started crawling toward the door.
"Scrornuck?” Nalia stood in the doorway, holding her nose. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, sticking her head out the door for a breath of fresh air. “This place stinks to high heaven!"
"I came in here to say a few prayers.” He again tried and failed to get to his feet. “I think I'm stuck."
Despite the stench, she grinned. “So you need to be rescued, my major hunk?” He nodded sheepishly. She ducked out the door for one more breath of air, and then hurried inside to help him get to his feet and out of the building—
far
out of the building. She looked at his taped and bloody legs. “How bad are they?"
"Not too bad,” he insisted. “I think I'll be okay as long as I don't fall again.” Moving slowly and a little unsteadily, sometimes hanging onto Nalia's arm for support, he walked with her down the stony beach.
"You were praying?” she asked. “For what?"
"Forgiveness for those dead guys. I don't want them to be condemned for what they tried to do to us yesterday."
"Why not? They were trying to kill you!"
"And I was trying to kill them.” He scratched his chin, trying to work a bit of something out of his beard. “I succeeded. I think I could use a little forgiving myself.” They reached the shore of the lake, and with her help he sat on a boulder. “Somebody once told me that when you set out to slay dragons, it's important not to become one yourself."
She made a small show of examining his face and arms. “I don't see any horns or scales,” she said. “I think you're safe."
He smiled, but his mood remained serious. “You know what I mean. I got so mad at the Captain yesterday that I started thinking like her. I almost got myself killed, almost got you captured, blew our chance to get to Draggott, and in the end fifty people died."
"Well, they
were
the bad guys,” she said. “She was trying to skin you alive!” She pulled back the collar of the dragon-sex-position T-shirt, exposing the ragged wound where the Captain had tried to remove Scrornuck's tattoo. “Remember?"
He gently removed her hand and stared across the frozen lake, where the morning sun brought the cliffs into sharp relief. “That doesn't give me the right to act like her,” he said. “I'm a Protector, not a murderer.” He closed his eyes and saw an archer he'd killed, screaming and spinning and falling to his death with an arrow sticking from his eye-socket. “Those guys didn't deserve to die like that. They were just working stiffs, making do on a Guard's pay, when the Captain offered them a few gold pieces for a bit of moonlighting. She probably made it sound like an easy job, for the good of the city, and those gold pieces could buy some better furniture, or maybe a weekend in the Guest Quarter. And then—” He pulled Ol’ Red from his belt and the blade leaped out, wickedly curved, humming hungrily. “Then they run into this.” He stared into the glassy blade, watching the subtle patterns of light dance as the energy fields shifted.
"Jape killed a lot of them, with that dragon-thing of his,” she protested. “It didn't seem to bother him at all."
Scrornuck let the blade disappear. “Jape sees the big picture. He's got those rings and he can understand stream crossings and big numbers. I just know that yesterday we killed a bunch of guys who were only trying to make a buck.” He turned the sword over and examined it from different angles. “You see why I need to be forgiven? What if I've become like the Captain?
What if I'm not the good guy?"
"What?” She stared in disbelief. “Of course you're the good guy!"
"Am I?” He blinked as something made his eye water. “If I'm saving the world, why am I always killing people?” He spoke less to Nalia than to somebody he couldn't see, somebody far more important. “At least thirty since we arrived here. Three hundred and sixty since I started. I can see every single one of them, and I keep asking myself,
did I really have to kill this one?"
A tear rolled down his cheek, making a hard right turn at a small scar, the souvenir of an earlier battle. “How many more in this world? How many more worlds after this one?
How many more do I have to kill?"