Read The Last Protector Online
Authors: Daniel C. Starr
"Their bad luck,” Scrornuck said.
Jape nodded. “That's probably enough to explain why the Captain wanted you dead."
"And then there's me,” Nalia said. “From what Scrornuck says, every time I got near the Orb, strange things happened."
Jape nodded. “Strange things happened, and you got more powerful. That's about the last thing Draggott would want—you might control the Orb and take over his army."
"I could do that?"
"The way your talents are developing, it won't be long before you can do it without the Orb.” Jape paused thoughtfully. “I wonder if our friend Tremmlowe thought he could control you with that drug—maybe use you to take control of the army from Draggott?"
"A double-cross?” Scrornuck said. “Sounds like the slimeball."
Jape nodded. “But the plot went sour, you killed the assassins and Tremmlowe was lucky to get out alive. Somebody—most likely the Captain—did a little sleight-of-hand and got the Orb out of Syb's and back to Draggott. Then, while we were on that wild goose chase to Alpine Lake, he sent his soldiers into Taupeaquaah to kidnap slaves for his army, dropped the dust-storm, and lured the Army of Taupeaquaah into the desert to attack him on his terms. Nice little plan."
"Very nice little plan.” Scrornuck said. “Now let's go mess it up!"
They reached the bottom of the dune, where the long line of concrete monorail-support towers ended at an enormous drawbridge. The bridge was down—Scrornuck suspected it wasn't movable—but the great wooden gates to the castle were shut tight. Members of the Army milled about on the bridge, unsure of how to enter.
"Maybe we should knock,” Nalia suggested.
"Like we did at the security office?” Jape said, consulting his fireball-shooter. “It's getting pretty low."
"Let me try something.” Scrornuck triggered the boots, leaping to the top of the last tower, and unslung the Setron from his shoulder. He struck the fretboard, producing a string of hideous wails. As he adjusted his grip, the wails became a deep rumble, and bits of dust jumped from the surface of the gate.
Getting close
, he thought, making another adjustment. The air in front of the gate shimmered with blue shock diamonds. He brought up the bass slightly, and the gate's wooden surface seemed to be boiling. Then, with a sound not unlike a bowling ball making the perfect strike, the gate disappeared into a cloud of splinters and dust. “Honey, I'm home!” he called, as he dropped back to the ground.
As he watched the Army stream across the bridge, he took the little red book from his sporran and whispered a short prayer, for himself, his friends and those he would likely be killing today. “All right,” he said, putting the book away. “Let's go."
They followed the Army across the drawbridge and through a short tunnel to the castle's interior. Like the soldiers, they stopped for a moment as they emerged from the tunnel. The forest of towers they'd seen from atop the dune was even more impressive up close, linked by a dizzying array of elevated walkways and flying buttresses, some unfinished, all converging on various levels of the three-hundred-foot tall central keep. Concrete and steel foundations rose from the simulated-stone floor, some supporting segments of roller-coaster track that might have one day wound over, under and around the catwalks.
Scrornuck's vision seemed enhanced, able to both take in the big picture and examine each item in detail—cranes, forklifts and equipment seemingly abandoned in haste, unfinished walls, gargoyles in the leering image of Spafu where the tallest flying buttresses met the keep, and at the very top of that tower, a crude wooden scaffold supporting the Orb. What he did not see, despite his best efforts, was the enemy—aside from the Army, the castle appeared deserted. On a hunch, he stepped back and put an ear to the outer wall. He heard noise inside—a lot of noise. “Sheeyit,” he shouted, “it's a set-up!"
Draggott's soldiers poured out of doorways in the tunnel wall, blocking the exit. Scrornuck quickly dragged Jape and Nalia to the side, hiding behind one of the concrete foundations. A moment later more soldiers appeared, rushing from hiding places behind the central tower and trapping the Army.
"They're going to panic,” Jape predicted as the Taupeaquaahns tentatively engaged the foe. They handled their weapons uncertainly, still not sure they were supposed to hurt anybody. Draggott's troops suffered no such qualms, and in seconds the first ranks of the Army were collapsing in terror and confusion.
Nalia held her head and moaned softly. “They're terrified—I don't think I can keep it out."
"Mister Saughblade?” Jape said.
"I'll give it a try.” Scrornuck jumped atop the twenty-foot concrete piling, and clambered up the steel of the incomplete coaster track until he was some forty feet above the ground. The Setron vibrated eagerly as he squeezed the grip, struck the fretboard, and aimed a debilitating blast of subsonics at Draggott's army.
Nothing happened.
He shifted his grip and increased the intensity. The sound still had no effect on the enemy, though a few Taupeaquaahns doubled over from the echoes. What the...? Even the instrument seemed confused, its grip squirming uncomfortably.
He shifted his grip and his strategy, sounding a bugle call—while the Setron didn't affect Draggott's army, it still worked on Taupeaquaahns. As he added more brass and the skirl of war pipes, the Army ceased its retreat. He turned the call-to-arms into a song, and the Army marched forward, engaging Draggott's troops with enthusiasm and confidence, and methodically pushed them back. He smiled in satisfaction as the first of the enemy fell to the Taupeaquaahn swords.
Fingers flashing over the Setron's fretboard as his right hand massaged the instrument's grip, Scrornuck took command of the Army. A subtle shift in the song's harmonies sent a command to the Taupeaquaahn archers, who loosed their arrows over the front lines with devastating effect. Another small theme brought the pike-carriers forward in a wedge that split Draggott's force down the middle.
The battle quickly became a rout, and the rout would soon become a slaughter, as Scrornuck's army tore into Draggott's. Another hour, he thought, and we'll have the son-of-a-bitch. He brought up the percussion, sending a command to the right flank. The only thing Draggott knows about war is that you kill the other guys, he thought, grinning wickedly. And now our side knows that.
"Scrornuck!” He turned and saw Nalia climbing up the steelwork. “What are you doing?"
"I'm winning, that's what!” He gestured grandly at the battle below. “It's a rout!"
"It's murder!” she said. “It's wrong! Taupeaquaahns don't kill each other!"
"Maybe it's time they learned!"
"No!” He glanced at her face and saw she was on the verge of tears. “That's what the Captain would say!” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “Maybe you
are
turning into the Beast."
She just doesn't understand war, he thought—but the words seemed false, empty. He looked down at the battle, and for a moment he recalled the last words of the Beast: “The changes came over me,” the reptilian voice said. He felt the skin over his shoulders squirming as if ready to split open and spew forth a million foul maggots.
He glanced at Nalia. She held her head as if in pain. He recalled her smiling face, just a few mornings ago on the shore of Alpine lake, confidently assuring him, “of course you're the good guy.” Am I still? He wondered.
His dragon eyes zoomed in on a corner of the battle, where six Taupeaquaahns hacked away at three enemy soldiers. What am I doing, he asked himself. Getting rid of Draggott, he answered. And then what? How would the Army behave after the battle—back in the City, where disputes were settled in ritualized duels that ended with first blood drawn? He recalled his own words from the previous night, and wondered: if he had to turn the peaceful Taupeaquaahns into murderers, was he really saving anything?
This is war.
Then what?
Am I really saving anything?
Of course you're the good guy.
Well, am I? he asked himself. Do I still want to be? He answered:
Yes.
This song had to end. But how? If he simply stopped, the Taupeaquaahns would be overwhelmed. He had to give the Army the encouragement to defend itself, without sending it into a murderous frenzy. And then? He couldn't stay up here playing the Setron all day—Jape stood at the foot of the piling, gesturing as if to say,
come on, there's a world to save.
Scrornuck sighed, knowing what he had to do and knowing how much he didn't want to do it. “Nalia,” he said, “I need your help."
She looked up. “How?"
"I need you to tell me when the tune is right."
She nodded. “Go ahead."
He removed some of the song's harsher dissonances—and some of the Taupeaquaahns backed away from the slaughter. Nalia nodded and smiled. He toned down the percussion—and the Army broke off most of its attacks. The instrument fought him, its grip twitching and squirming under his fingers, trying to make him play a tune that would turn the Army back into a murderous horde. “I'm playing you,” he muttered, squeezing the grip so hard his hand hurt. “You're not playing me.” He boosted the low brass—and the Army slowly regrouped into a new formation that advanced slowly, using pikes and the threat of arrows to push Draggott's troops back.
Nalia smiled. “That's it."
Now for the hard part, he thought, making tiny finger movements as he struggled to lock the song into the instrument's memory. It fought harder—each time he had the tune locked-in and tried to set the instrument down, the Setron took his next touch as an excuse to shift back to the battle-song. “So that's why Abe called you a weapon,” he muttered. The grip squirmed under his fingers, and the warrior in him understood the message—
play the song, win the battle, slaughter the enemy, be the hero.
“No,” he whispered.
After three unsuccessful attempts, he shrugged the Setron's straps off his shoulders and again forced the instrument to play the song that would support the Taupeaquaahns in their slow advance. “Nalia,” he said, “hold onto the straps. I'm going to let go in three, two, one—
now!"
He gave the grip a final squeeze, locking in the song, held his breath, and let go.
It worked. The Setron dangled from Nalia's arms, repeating the tune. Very carefully, touching only the strap, he hung the instrument from a convenient steel beam. As the Setron played on, he looked down at the Army and smiled. He'd done it.
"Let's go,” he said. Taking a final look at the sonic weapon, he thought,
Goodbye, friend. See you when this is over.
Being careful not to disturb the instrument, he and Nalia climbed down to join Jape. “Now what?"
The Ranger pointed to the flickering light atop the central tower. “We get up there, deal with any opposition, and perform some controlled experiments."
Scrornuck nodded. “Controlled experiments, you say. Does that mean I don't get burned up this time?"
They crossed the courtyard, staying out of sight behind coaster foundations and abandoned equipment, and stepped through a grandly arched entrance into Darklord Castle's central keep. A square stage, fifteen feet high and sporting steps on all sides, stood at the center of the room. From the rear of this stage an elaborate staircase climbed another twenty feet to an ornate opening in the domed ceiling.
"The great impotentate's throne,” Scrornuck said as he inspected a badly worn armchair in the middle of the stage. A bright orange object caught his eye, and he stooped to pick up one of those cheese-like airplane snacks. “Looks like Tremmlowe's been here—or do you suppose Draggott eats these things?"
"I've heard stranger,” Jape said, heading up the staircase. “Emperor Mao IV supposedly had a taste for artificial barbecue potato chips—a week old and extra greasy."
The stairs led to a small, plain waiting-room above the domed ceiling. Jape started his light, and they followed a curving hall past doors to other rooms, finally finding a service stair that took them up another level.
They stepped through an inconspicuous steel door into an immense atrium, easily twenty stories high, dimly lit by sunlight shining through gaps in the tower's wall. Coils of black steel filled the space overhead, rising, falling, twisting in loops and knots. “It's a roller coaster,” Scrornuck said breathlessly. A tattered banner hung from the steelwork, proclaiming:
BLACK DRAGON—FIRST TEST RUN SEPTEMBER 14, 2133.
Nalia read the banner aloud. “You don't suppose this is what they meant when they talked about riding the Dragon's tail?"
"Could be,” Scrornuck said. “The tail-end car always gives the best ride."
"September 14,” Jape said. “According to the records, that's one day after UniFlag abandoned this project."
Scrornuck gazed at the coaster. “Nobody ever got to ride it? What a waste."
Nalia suddenly stopped. “Somebody's watching us."
Scrornuck turned slowly, searching, finally picking from the shadows a soldier clad in black plastic armor and helmet, aiming an arrow at the dead center of his chest. Slowly raising his sword, he stepped forward as the archer pulled the arrow back. Suddenly, when the two were less than ten feet apart, the soldier fell backward and released his arrow nearly straight up. Moaning softly, he dropped his weapon and fled as the arrow clattered to the floor several feet away. What the hell? Scrornuck thought.
Nalia stooped to pick up the bow and quiver. “There's something familiar about that guy,” she said. “I think I've seen him before."
"How could you tell?” Scrornuck said. “He was in the dark, and he had a mask on."
"I don't know—but I'm positive I've met him."
"Let's worry about that later,” Jape said. “We need to get up to the Orb.” He pointed to the tower's center, where a silvery stair wrapped around a black column some fifteen feet across. “Must be the boarding stair. Looks like it goes all the way to the top."
Scrornuck looked up. “Hell of a climb for a ride."