Aces and Eights

Part 6: Pursuit

Little by little, Luke had introduced me to his world, or, to be more accurate, his worlds. I had undergone a great number of highly unusual experiences, so that now--several years subsequent to my leaving Earth--I was not completely taken aback by the events of the previous night. A dying man had tracked me down and had delivered to me a Trump of unknown origin. Odd, but not in the extreme; I had been dealt a situation, and I would work within its given parameters.

Focusing my attention on the matter, I pondered. Since this was an incident involving someone associated with one of the two primal forces in the universe, and since it had occurred within Kashfa, I was faced with the task of making a decision about whether or not I should inform Luke. As I mentioned earlier, he is, after a fashion, my employer. We are still friends, as well, though the nature of our relationship has shifted subtly since our college days, due to things being what they are. He is a king. I wondered. Was this my problem specifically, or one of a more generic nature?

What the hell, I decided. This might not involve Luke at all. How could the dying man have known that I was acting as the king's agent? Besides, I knew that, considering Kashfa's current affairs, he had enough on his mind without me worrying him. So I resolved to handle this one alone.

I decided against using the mystery Trump immediately, however. Such a thing would have been risky, if not downright foolish. Though I am quite a bit tougher than those I normally meet while traveling, the Trump's presence implied connections of a sorcerous nature. Because of that fact alone, I was loathe to try the thing without some preparation. Also, I was not quite through with the task that Luke had asked of me. Until I had tracked down the thieves who had taken the king's gold phoenix pendant, I would not feel satisfied that I had done my job thoroughly.

I was not sure whether the pendant's value was a result of its mystic potency, or mere sentimentality, but, either way, I knew it was important to Luke. Important enough for him to have asked me specifically, instead of any number of lesser agents he had at his disposal, to track it down. If he had not been so busy, I am sure he would have gone after the thing himself.

Under the gray light of dawn, I extinguished my fire, rolled up my sleeping bag, and packed the rest of my gear. I could not bring myself to feel much sentiment for the man who had given me the Trump. For all I knew, he might have been a simple criminal hired to deliver the thing. Nonetheless, I placed a coin over each of his eyes, wrapped him in my blanket, and secured his body within a shallow cave located at the back of the ledge where I had camped. Then I blocked it in with all the large stones I could find.

Standing on the ledge, I looked down at the valley below. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the ring stretching between the second and third knuckles on my right-hand index finger. I felt my awareness shifting to a mystic level--first sinking, rootlike, into the cracked and weathered stone beneath me, then branching outward to spread across the valley.

Yes. The thing I sought had passed this way recently; I could feel a faint, shimmering trace of its essence, of Luke's essence, even. The phoenix had flown--carried away by the thieves who had stolen it--but it was not too far away. I was sure of that.

I opened my eyes, allowing the ring's root structure to dwindle and withdraw. Then, in a more mundane manner, I again looked down upon the valley. I had passed this way before, several times, and I knew that the village below was one called Vilerburque. The small place was a popular stopping point for travelers heading to or from Seraph Pass, a break in the Murrakham Mountains. The mountains, which ran from east to west, separated the dukedom of Baf Durhiem from its northerly neighbor, a city called Bann Tal. Both places were fairly important within the context of Kashfa's socio-economic infrastructure, so Vilerburque, though small, saw quite a bit of traffic. Also, the locals made some of Kashfa's best white wines. I knew of a tavern below where I could obtain a decent breakfast, so, first things first, I began negotiating the downward trail.

The surrounding hills were alive with green vineyards. The vines, supported by stakes, grew to a height of eight feet in places. The rows were orderly and neat, running down the hillsides. Workers moved like bees within the green, occasionally popping up into sight or walking out onto a dirt trail to dump a full bag of grapes into a wooden cart. The going was fairly easy and it only took a few hours to make it to the village border.

After passing through the main entrance--which was a small, unfortified barrier manned by a single, sleepy-eyed sentry--I walked through the dusty streets, making my way past haggling merchants, open shops, and midday foot traffic. There were many smells, some pleasant, others not so. Before I could make it to the tavern, a group of haggard travelers, dressed in robes and bearing religious totems, stopped me to ask directions to the nearest bath house. Being acquainted with such a place, I gave them directions. After parting with them and walking a short distance further, however, I realized that I had mistakenly sent them to a brothel. I turned around, but they had already passed into the crowd and out of sight. "Oops," I said to myself.

When I reached the tavern, I could see that the front door was propped open. Several old men were seated on the ground around the steps, laughing and talking. I nodded to them and entered. My eyes adjusted quickly to the cool semi-darkness, giving me a view of the not-quite-crowded room through standard barroom smoke. There was a wet spot on the floor near the entrance, so I skirted to the left and found a table that was situated near an open window. Sitting down, I removed my pack and rested it on the chair beside me. Through the window I could see a weather-worn fountain centered like a hub in an intersection. In addition to affording me a nice view of the plaza fountain outside, my seat ensured that no one could approach me from behind. It almost always pays to be cautious.

When the waitress made her way to my table, I ordered some beef ribs and a pitcher of beer. Then I settled back in my chair and observed some of the tavern's other patrons. At the next table over, an old woman was telling a story of some kind. Occasionally a bit of it would drift through the noise, and find its way to me. The woman's crowd was mostly comprised of what appeared to be younger travelers who wore excited, adventure-hungry expressions on their faces. Across the room, a man nodded to me and I thought that I recognized him as a blacksmith who I had once hired to re-shoe a horse. I waved to him, trying to remember what had happened to that horse.

Absently, I toyed with my ring. It was disproportionately heavy, and fashioned from a brownish translucent material. Etched in fine lines, the ring bore a stylized tree, almost skeletal in its starkness. It felt warm and reassuring on my finger. The ring had, in a way, been a gift from Luke, and it represented a substantial investment of our mutual time and energy. Its creation had involved a ritual initiation relying upon a being/place/construct (depending on how you look at things) which some refer to as The Great Tree Between The Worlds.

Luke had taken me to that place in the lee of Yggdrasill, and had worked the proper conjurings, mixing the sap of the Tree with my blood, then fashioning the results into a ring. When he had given it to me, he had explained that the device would allow me to do certain things that were normally reserved for those attuned to one of the primal powers. And though I was inadvertently made a supernatural creature by my encounter with Kyla and her lupine pack-mates, and I have undergone the initial phases of a power ritual involving a place called the Keep of the Four Worlds--let me say that I do not have access to the kind of power possessed by one who is an initiate of either the Logrus or the Pattern. So the ring is an item of considerable worth.

I enjoy working for Luke--it is, so to speak, continually stimulating--but I will not deny the fact that the work is unusually dangerous. In an arena where power levels have been greatly inflated, the ring gives me an edge. It possesses an innate will, as well as a sensitivity to magic. While wearing it, I can feel certain pathways and rifts through Shadow. Though this only provides me with the most limited means of traversing Shadow, it does allow me to pass between those places connected by pathways or gates. Using the ring in such a fashion requires time; while in a particular Shadow (generally one of a magically active nature), it takes me a while to locate an opening other than the one through which I entered. If no such portal exists, then I have to either backtrack my way out, or simply use one of the Trumps I carry (another gift from my employer) to transport back to a more familiar locale.

The ring functions to protect me from psychic assaults, too, by augmenting my own mental defenses. With its added protection, I can often fend off spells that might otherwise nuke my brain. And, through usage, I also learned that (as a by-product of its sensitivity) the ring acts as a sort of universal translator, picking up on the thoughts of those Shadow beings who attempt to communicate with me and instantaneously relaying the English equivalent of their words into my head. I have learned several new languages from journeying with Luke (Thari, Amber's native tongue, among them). But, in my travels, I encounter a very wide range of sentient cultures, most of which have their own languages. For that reason alone, the ring has come in quite handy. Its translation functions do not work with beings of exceptionally high psyche, but, then again, most of those who meet that criteria speak Thari quite fluently anyway.

It did not take long for my order to arrive. I gave the waitress a handful of coins with octagonal holes in their centers and words inscribed along their borders. She counted out my change, pushing the smaller coins across the table to me with a smile. I ate and drank, pushing everything else away for a time.

When I had finished the meal, the waitress returned for the plate. The rib bones, gleaming white, lay in a jumbled pile. I thanked the woman as she was leaving. After sitting a while, and finishing off the beer, I walked over to the door and stepped outside. The same group of old men were sitting in the dust and had started up some sort of game involving polished ivory sticks. Picking my direction, I began walking. I wanted to buy another horse, since I had been forced to abandon mine several days earlier, at the edge of the small peaks situated on the south side of the valley. The rocky trails there would have been too risky for a horse to traverse. Though I do not mind traveling on foot, I knew that my quarry (who left their mounts for the same reason I did) had probably picked up fresh horses.

The village streets were either cobblestone or dirt, depending upon their proximity to Squire's Hall. The houses were bunched together on curving lanes. Some had window boxes, with flower cascades of red and yellow spilling over the edge and down the wall. Other houses were plain or even ugly. I walked along, making my way toward the stable at the northern edge of the village.

It did not take long to barter for, and purchase, the horse I wanted. She was tall and rust colored, except for a splotch of white on one shoulder.

"She's sensible," the stable-keeper told me, squinting and cocking his bald head to the side, "but watch out. Ev'ry now and again, she likes to bite."

I said I understood, and paid him. I also picked up the necessary riding tack, and a few other small items. All in all, from the time I had left the tavern, it took me about an hour to get going. I mounted up and rode off, passing by another sentry--this one appearing to be no more than fifteen--at the northern gate. I gave him a friendly salute as I went by.

Once I had cleared the village and outlying farms, the forest was light, mostly scrub, with a few scattered clumps of larger vegetation. Some of the larger, more twisted trees inhabiting the area strongly resembled bristlecone pines (Pinus aristata for any other Forestry majors) from Shadow Earth. Observing the mild green things around me, I rode along, stopping only once at a crossroads, in order to again send out feelers for the men that I followed. After that, I selected the right pathway and quickened the pace, knowing that they were not far ahead.

A couple of hours later, coming upon the still smoldering butt of a cigarette, I dismounted. As I crushed out the smoke, I inwardly cursed anyone who had so little concern for life. I searched the area, noting that my targets had left the road and entered the wood, which had grown continually heavier as I traveled. Oddly, the tracks I saw indicated only one man. Out on the road, there had been too much recent traffic to note this. I wondered if one of the thieves--the one without the pendant--had split off. Or maybe he and his partner had entered into a squabble that had ended in murder. You know what they say about thieves and honor. I, too, departed the road.

A short distance away, I loosely tied my sweaty horse with a long tether, spoke to her for a moment, and began running ahead, parallel to the road. When I was about an eighth of a mile away, I stopped. Standing in a small clearing, I removed my shirt, and tucked it into my pack. One at a time, I pulled off my boots, and put them away as well. Arching my neck, and looking up at the sky, I allowed my body to relax. I rolled my shoulders and stretched. Then, when I felt a bit loosened, I started to shift my form.

My skin darkened first, causing no discomfort whatsoever. The next few stages--the lengthening of my teeth and nails, the pointing of my ears, et cetera--were equally painless. When I moved into the major alteration of my body, however, I began to feel some distress. So I slowed down some, pausing to again relax.

I felt that I could have taken the thieves (or thief) in man-form, but it might have meant sustaining unnecessary injuries. And, even when you regenerate, sword wounds are no fun. Also, in my altered shape, I would be somewhat stronger and faster, and, with my senses enhanced, I would be able locate the men (or man) quicker. I had moved away from my mount, because I have learned that most mundane animals do not harbor any interest whatsoever in the workings of magic. I proceeded with the change.

The whole process took just under five minutes. I can do it faster when the situation warrants, but doing so usually has some painful repercussions. Standing a foot taller, weighing some forty-five pounds heavier, I grabbed my pack and started out. It did not take long.

He had set up a small camp, complete with cooking fire. Either he was not worried about being followed, or he was a fool. The only man I could see was sitting with his back to me, plucking some sort of bird. He sat upon a stump, with feathers lying around his feet. I could smell the blood of the bird, and, mingled with that odor, I could smell the man. He smelled foul, so to speak. Quietly, I moved forward.

I had decided to render him unconscious as fast as I could, search him for the phoenix pendant, then transport us both back to the castle, via Luke's Trump. There the king could do as he saw fit with the thief. When I came close to the man, I reached out with one dark-clawed hand, and roughly pulled him backward off the stump and to the ground. Bird feathers flew everywhere.

I pinned the guy to the damp earth, and was about to punch him into R.E.M. state four, but I saw something that made me hesitate. Above his left eyebrow, he bore the same tattoo that I had seen on the man who had given me the enigmatic Trump. Another thing that seemed strange was the fact that, as he lay there looking up at me, he did not appear immediately shocked. Normally, when someone is pounced upon by a werewolf, it causes them considerable alarm (trust me on that). This man, however, simply regarded me for a moment, a confused look on his face, as if he were trying for some recognition. Then, slowly, fear spread across his features.

I wasted no more time. Flipping the man over, I held both of his wrists behind his back with one hand, while retrieving a set of police-issue handcuffs I had picked up back home on Shadow Earth. I shackled him, rolled him onto his back, and performed a careful check through his belongings. I carefully collected two curved daggers (both looked silvered--I tossed them far away); a short, studded mace; various personal effects; and, finally, the phoenix pin.

Then I considered the implications of the man's tattoo. Quite stumped, I left him there on the ground, while I sat on his log seat. "Feel like answering a few simple questions?" I asked in Thari.

"Piss off!"

The language he used was unfamiliar, but my ring translated his words well enough. Vaguely, I thought I had heard his accent somewhere before. "You don't even know what I'm going to ask, yet."

He remained silent this time, so I decided to try another approach. Removing the Trump given to me by the dead man, I held it up before him. "Recognize this?"

He craned his neck, staring at the card intensely. Too intensely. "Sorry," I said, snatching it away before he had time to activate it.

"But thanks, anyway, for answering my question." He sighed, easing his head back to the ground. I studied the tattoo. It was definitely a match with the one I had seen over the brow of the man who had given me the Trump. This caused me to feel more than puzzlement; I grew concerned. The matching design seemed to indicate that, not only was there a connection between the theft of Luke's phoenix and the strange Trump, but also, it meant that whoever had been behind the theft originally was accomplished enough as a sorcerer to create the Trump in the first place. That raised the whole matter to an elevated threat level. No longer did I think it probable that the matter was entirely my concern. Still, I wanted more information before I contacted Luke.

I nudged my captive firmly with one furry foot. "Tell me about your boss." He only responded by repeating his previous comment, so I felt somewhat justified in what I was about to do. The man had refused to answer my questions, leaving me with limited options--I could obtain the necessary information through means of physical force, or I could attempt to dominate his will, stealing what I wanted from his mind. The former has a way of getting messy, so I opted for the latter.

I knelt over him, bending down until my muzzle was inches from his face. The damp ground soaked through the knees of my pants, wetting my fur and irritating me further. The man's eyes widened. I called upon some of the psychic energy which had been vested in me by the Fountain of Flame, using my ring to give it form. My captive and I were very close together now, in ways very different than physical. I began to focus my thoughts until they crystallized and spread forward between us like fractures through glass. My consciousness reached his . . . invaded it.

I began to shuffle through the swirling scatter of his memories. That which was plainly irrelevant to my search, I blew aside like so many dead leaves. But then, just as I could sense that I was nearing my goal, a strange thing occurred. A sudden surge rushed forward from the thief, passing from the detailed mark above his brow, and into me. The surge, I knew, had not been consciously manipulated by the man. Instead, it seemed to have come about automatically, as if I had tripped some psionic alarm--a defense placed there by another. Intentional or not, the suddenly reversed power flow felt like a wave of molten iron as it entered my head. Groaning aloud, I struggled to defend against it, and was only partially successful. By erecting a shield of pure willpower, I managed to turn the energy aside, shunting most it away from my self before it could do me any serious harm. The effort of my defense caused me to reel, though. I felt myself falling, but I was unconscious even before I hit the dark, damp earth.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Back to Index