Dan the Adventurer, page 19
part #2 of Gold Girls and Glory Series
“You fixed it?” Dan laughed.
Holly nodded. “I think we have,” she said. “We had to scrap parts from four guns. We cleaned and reassembled everything, oiled the moving parts, and checked everything twice. It’s holding steam now.”
“That’s fantastic,” Dan said, and kissed her cheek. Turning to the others, he said, “Great job, everyone. Really awesome!”
The team looked overjoyed by his praise.
“Only one thing left to do before we can declare it fully functional,” Holly said, gesturing toward the big gun. “Test fire it!”
“Me?” Dan said. “I can’t shoot it first. You guys worked so hard on this. One of you should go first.”
But they were all shaking their heads.
“This is our wedding gift to you, husband. We would be overjoyed if you took the first shot.”
Her crew nodded eagerly, and Dan felt a huge grin spreading across his face.
He’d grown up shooting and hunting and had always loved guns of all varieties, including the high-powered potato gun his cousin had made out of PVC pipe, a grill starter, and some WD-40. That thing would dent an oil drum at fifty yards.
The Fist of Fury was way, way cooler than a potato gun.
“Thanks,” he said and stepped up to the Fist.
“We placed a target for you, husband,” Holly said, pointing across the meadow to where a scarecrow of stick and straw brandished a tree branch overhead.
Small target for this range, Dan thought. Probably should start with the broad side of a barn.
He took the handles and hunched forward to line up the sights.
“When you press the trigger pedal, the valve opens, steam rushes forward, fires the ball, and cycles the barrel,” Holly said. “For as long as you hold down the trigger pedal, the barrels will fire and spin.”
Full auto, Dan thought, excitement building in him.
“When you want to stop, let off the pedal. That caps the steam box, and the gun stops firing. The hopper will hold roughly four hundred rounds.”
“Awesome,” Dan said. “But we probably shouldn’t waste the ammo.”
“We will recover much of it,” Holly said. “Besides, there must be half a million rounds in the tower below us.”
“Wow,” Dan said. “All right. Let’s shoot this thing!”
The fire team lifted buckets from the ammo bins and poured metal spheres the size of ping pong balls into the hopper with a loud clatter.
Deeper rattling sounded within the machine as gravity and the weapon’s interior design rolled ammo into place.
“Steam,” Holly said.
“Steam,” Teeka said, and cranked open the pipe valve.
“Going hot,” Holly said.
Dan nodded.
The dragon-skin hose expanded with a loud hiss, and for a second, Dan thought they’d sprung a leak. But the hiss was just steam filling the box.
The Fist of Fury trembled like a leashed dog attack ready to charge.
“Fire at will,” Holly said.
Dan swiveled the gun, surprised by how smoothly it moved now, and lined up the front and rear sights on the scarecrow. For what distance were the sights adjusted?
Aiming center mass, Dan tapped the trigger pedal, meaning to fire a single round.
Pang! Pang! Pang! Pang! Pang!
Gouts of mud leapt into the air thirty feet beyond the scarecrow as errant rounds chewed a line in the meadow.
Holly and the elves cheered. They had fixed the Fist!
Dan grinned but wouldn’t cheer until he’d actually hit the frigging target.
Aiming lower, he worked the pedal trigger again, this time holding it down for several seconds. The gun shook and pang-pang-pang-ed, barrels spinning and spitting steel.
Hunks of sod flew into the air in front of the scarecrow. Dan angled up, walking the explosions of mud across the soil, and crack-crack-crack-crack, the scarecrow jerked, coming apart as metal balls punched it to pieces.
“Awesome!” Dan roared as the demolished scarecrow fell to the ground.
“You still have two-thirds of a hopper!” a gnome shouted.
Dan nodded, scanning the meadow. Most of the way across the big meadow, perhaps two hundred yards out, towered a dead tree as gray and gnarled as the hand of a giant zombie reaching up from its grave.
Dan swiveled the gun and drew down on the top of the main trunk. It was a long shot, but he wanted to see what this thing could do.
He stomped the trigger pedal.
Pang-pang-pang-pang!
To his surprise, the meadow filled with a rapid tock-tock-tock-tock, and the face of the tree erupted in a fountain of gray splinters. He held on target and pounded away. The big gun shook and hissed as he emptied the hopper. Twenty seconds later, the pang-ing and recoil ceased. The spinning barrels hissed steam until Dan released the pedal.
Two hundred yards away stood only a ragged gray stump.
“Roderick’s Raiders won’t know what hit them!”
30
Farewell to Fire Ridge
“You are the worst soldiers I have ever seen,” Ula ranted at the elves and gnomes gathered in the courtyard. As the warrior woman marched back and forth on the ramparts, Holly whispered translations to Dan and Nadia. “Train hard every day. Listen to Rape, Kill, and Eat. They are also horrible soldiers but not as horrible as you. Train hard and maybe some of you will live long enough to kill a raider before you die.”
The hobgoblin panned her angry gaze over the assembly, snorted with contempt, and turned her scarred back on them.
“Ula’s turning into a regular softie,” Nadia joked.
Dan stepped to the edge of the walkway and smiled down at the elves and gnomes.
“You will defend Fire Ridge,” he said, raising his voice so that his words carried over the courtyard. “You have the walls and weapons, and you know what to do. You’ve all worked hard, and I’m proud of your accomplishments and the strength you’ve developed.
“Drill every day. Train hard every day. Continue to improve your defenses. Stay ready.
“If snow falls early, and you see no sign of the raiders, do not grow complacent. They will come. And you must be ready.
“When the raiders arrive, you will teach the world what happens to anyone foolish enough to attack Fire Ridge!”
The gnomes cheered. The red elves tried to join in, but most were lost to sobbing.
In the weeks he’d spent working here, he had become quite fond of these people. When he’d first arrived, the red elves had been completely hopeless, a herd of happy idiots waiting for slaughter. But they had changed.
They had come to life and were ready to fight. Many would likely die when the raiders came, but more still would survive, and from that point forward, there would always be warriors at Fire Ridge.
“Thank you,” Ahneena said. “You had business elsewhere, but you stayed at Fire Ridge to help my people. Now we have a chance to once more add to our long tapestry.” She bowed deeply to Dan and his women.
They returned the bow.
“We do hope that you will return to us someday,” the matriarch said with a smile, “and that we will swap tales of victory.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Matriarch,” Holly said.
“Yes,” Dan said. Then, turning toward Holly, Nadia, and Ula, he said, “All right then, ladies. Time to hit the road.”
“Before you leave,” Ahneena said, “I would like to give you a token of appreciation for all that you have done. A symbol of our thanks.”
Dan started to wave her off. “You don’t have—”
But Holly pinched him, and Dan shut up, suddenly understanding. He’d been so focused on getting out of here and finally heading to the crevasse that he had completely forgotten the whole gift magic thing.
That morning, Holly had told him that this might happen.
“Second gifts aren’t much better,” Holly had warned him. “They tend to be small and common, yet pragmatic. But again, accept any gift very graciously.”
Third gifts, she reminded him, often looked commonplace, too; but once accepted, they transformed into items of great power, the stuff of legends.
Dan, who was still carrying a bent and rusty needle in his rucksack, had his doubts, but he would roll with this, if only to keep Holly happy.
Whatever the second gift was, it was small. Ahneena clutched it in one tiny fist, which she held out to Dan.
Dan smiled and held out his hand.
When Ahneena dropped the second gift into Dan’s palm, he managed not to laugh, smiling instead and thanking her profusely.
After bidding Fire Ridge farewell and hiking across the meadow and out of view of the wailing elves waving farewell atop the fortress walls, Dan pulled the second gift from his pocket and shook his head. “Just what I always wanted. A thimble.”
Nadia and Ula laughed, the sound of their voices beautiful to his ears.
“Joke all you want,” Holly said. “This is incredible. No one has received two matriarchal gifts in over a century.”
“Incredible,” Dan echoed, staring down at the tiny thimble.
“All you need is some thread for you bent-ass needle,” Nadia said, “and you could give up adventuring and darn socks for a living. Much safer work.”
“Ha ha,” Dan said.
The four of them walked at a good clip, eating up the miles. It felt good to be out in the woods again, holding a sword instead of a trowel, and not having to tell anyone what to do.
They passed the turnoffs toward the gnome and green elf villages and passed through the grim reminder of the village that had been decimated by Roderick’s Raiders. Seeing the charred and twisted corpses, Dan wanted to head back to Fire Ridge and help the elves kill these evil assholes.
But they had other business now.
Despite the late start, they covered thirteen or fourteen miles that day. Ula attacked Dan during a water break but didn’t put up much of a fight when he submitted her, so that didn’t end up being a significant interruption.
They camped in an old stand of oak and poplar alongside a shallow stream. They made a small fire and broke out the wine and provisions the red elves had given them.
The night was cold.
Good, Dan thought, sitting beside the fire, eating dried meat and guzzling sweet wine.
This was living.
After too many hot meals served beneath a roof, he appreciated the roughness of the fare.
Likewise, he looked forward to sleeping on the hard ground.
Too much comfort led to ruin.
He ate and drank and laughed, sitting on the fallen log with his arms around Holly and Nadia, while Ula sat across the fire, sharpening his sword, having already given her axe its nightly attention.
The warrior woman seemed content enough, sitting over there, honing the blade, while Dan and his women hugged and laughed and talked in a language she couldn’t understand, but Dan felt a twang of sympathy.
“Hey Ula,” he called across the fire. “Aren’t you cold in your little bikini?”
He was buzzed on wine. Buzzed enough to accept the feelings he had developed for her and pitch aside all the bullshit of their daily fights.
Fuck it. If Ula wanted to sign on, so be it.
He liked her and wanted her and wanted to get to know more about her. She had already learned to call him asshole, and he was willing to learn some of her guttural tongue.
So yeah, fuck it. Why waste time with all this bullshit?
So he took another pull of wine and slapped his knee and said, “Come on over.”
Grinning, Holly translated.
Ula snorted and started shit-talking his deel.
Dan laughed.
“Speaking of deel,” Nadia said, standing and pulling Dan to his feet, “are you ready to perform your husbandly duties?”
“Ready to roll,” Dan said, slipping an arm around her waist.
Nadia nodded at Ula and grabbed Dan’s crotch. “Sure you don’t want some of this grade A deel? Getting laid might chill you out a little bit.”
Ula pointed at Dan and sneered. “Asshole lips!”
Nadia laughed. “Well, girlfriend has spirit, anyway.” She turned to Holly. “How about you, elf? You still sitting on your eggs, or are you back in the game?”
“You have him to yourself for a few more days,” Holly said and gave a shooing motion. “You newlyweds go have fun. I’m going to teach Ula some new words.”
31
The Rift
Dan and the girls stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down into the eerie crevasse, their troubled features lit green by the glowing mist.
Beyond the unnatural illumination of the fog, deep blue darkness had fallen over the forest.
And yet it was only midday.
They had broken camp early and hiked the rest of the way without interruption, traveling beneath bright blue, late October skies.
But entering this valley had been like stepping from noon straight into midnight.
“Whatever the acolytes are up to here,” Holly whispered, “I’d say they’re having some success.”
Dan nodded. “We’d better do something about that,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure why they were whispering, but it seemed like a good idea.
“Where do we drop in?” Nadia asked.
“The rift split open above the catacombs,” Holly said. “The middle of the rift is where we’ll find the heart of the catacombs.”
So they walked along the edge of the cliff. Dan kept glancing down into the green mist. Somewhere down there, the ape-thing was lurking. And from the sounds of what Nadia had heard, the thing might have gotten bigger.
They planned to avoid it. Slip into the crevasse, head into the catacombs, do what they had to do at the Pool of Dreams, and then get the Hades out of here.
Nadia stopped. Everyone waited in the strange darkness, listening hard, trying to hear what she heard.
“Chanting,” she said.
So the acolytes were here again. Dan, Holly, and Nadia exchanged knowing looks. Ula grinned and rolled her muscular shoulders, ready for a fight.
Moving tree to tree, boulder to boulder, they pushed on stealthily. Then Dan could hear the chanting, too, a low murmur growing louder.
Edging closer, Dan crouched behind a boulder and stared through the billowing mist at a group of five or six dark-robed figures gathered at the edge of the rift.
As Dan listened to the chanting, his blood chilled with loathing and rage.
“Oh, Mother of Darkness,” they chanted, “Mother of Mysteries, Mother of Oblivion, please return to us. We thank you for opening this rift, this womb, and for birthing the Living Darkness. We serve you, feeding your child, that we might hasten your return.”
A figure robed in midnight blue stepped to the edge of the cliff. The acolyte opened her robes and let them fall to the ground. Completely naked, she spread her arms, a pale and flat-chested girl with the bulging eyes and empty smile of an enraptured zealot. “Gather, Darkness!” she cried.
From the misty depths of the chasm, something huge rumbled like waves against a rocky shore.
Dan gripped the pommel of his sword, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.
What the Hades was that?
Nadia’s monster, the thing she’d heard.
“Take me, Darkness!” the girl hollered and leapt into the void.
Dan felt a jolt of surprise—then grimaced when the unmistakable sound of snapping jaws filled the rift.
The girl cried out once, sharply, and then disappeared in sound of chewing, gulping, and snapping bones as the great beast bolted its meal of hot, raw meat.
No one had pushed her. The crazy girl had jumped straight into the mouth of a monster.
Peering out from behind the boulder, Dan saw a robed man at the misty edge of the crevasse. A few others in dark robes clustered around him.
“We serve you,” the man intoned, “feeding your child, that we might hasten your return.”
Fucking savages, Dan thought, burning with hatred. Suicidal assholes.
Or formerly suicidal in the case of the next girl.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said as the tall man gestured toward the cliff. “I don’t want to die!”
Within the priest’s hood, a stony face lit in green stared mercilessly down at her. He shook his head. “Remove your robes.”
Spreading her robes, the girl squawked wild, terrified laughter. “I don’t want to die for the darkness. I want to live for darkness. I can recruit more sacrifices. I’ll—”
When her robes hit the ground, the naked girl screamed with terror and ran away from the cliff.
She didn’t make it far.
Two acolytes—one male and one female, by the sounds of their voices—caught her and dragged her back to the tall man, who stood there smiling like the colossal asshole he no doubt was.
All right, Dan thought. Enough spectating.
They had to save this girl before the acolytes threw her to whatever the fuck was down there, making those horrible noises.
Dan gestured to Holly, Nadia, and Ula, then pointed toward the two shorter acolytes. Then he pointed to himself and the tall guy calling the shots.
Everyone nodded.
Dan raised a finger to his lips, then used his fingertip to draw a weaving line toward the acolytes.
Again, nods all along.
They moved, staying low and moving silently, toward the cliffside horror show. The acolytes were chanting again, but it was hard to make out the lyrics, thanks to the girl’s screaming, which had grown frantic.
Have to reach her in time, Dan thought, hurrying toward the girl’s terrified pleading. Have to save her.
He and the girls came out of the fog at a sprint. The two shorter acolytes shouted with surprise and released the screaming girl. Dan turned his attention fully on the tall guy, who reached into his robes and started muttering strange words.
A spellcaster! Dan realized with a surge of loathing. A fucking wizard!
The guy pulled a short crystal rod from his robe and pointed it at Dan, spewing gibberish.
