Chainers Torment

CHAPTER 17

Skellum made the short walk from the manor to the academy. He was looking forward to his dinner, but he was looking forward to the shikar with Chainer even more. He had trained dozens of young Ca-.balists, one at a time, and he was usually somewhat melancholy at this stage of the program. The vast majority of his students never went on shikar. Instead, they were hurled into the pits as soon as they could reliably create monsters, an arrangement that served the Cabal's needs for warm bodies in the pits far better than it served Skellum's perfectionist nature. Chainer, however, would be his crowning achievement as a Master Dementist.

The First had meddled, as he always did, but Skellum knew that in this case the First's interest was well justified. He had something special in mind for Chainer from the very beginning, and though Skellum could only guess at what that might be, he was proud to have been a part of it. He was proud of his student, proud of his program, and proud of himself.

The Master of the Games was waiting outside of Skellum's office with a fixer Skellum recognized as Louche and a pair of hulking stalkers.

"The Cabal is here," Skellum called.

"Do you recognize this seal?" The Master of the Games stiffly handed Skellum a scroll with an ornate wax seal on it.

"It's from the First."

"Read it, please."

Skellum took the scroll and scanned it. It was a short statement, and it didn't take him long. He read it twice, then looked up at the Master of the Games.

"Is this a joke?"

"No joke, Master Skellum. The First has requested you to take your student's place in the pits this evening."

"But I'm not a-"

"He knew you would understand."

Skellum's ire began to rise, and the Master of the Games took a step back.

"I will see the First now," Skellum said. He looked up at the stalkers, one a saber-toothed ogre and the other a half-zombified merman with three crushing octopus tentacles on each shoulder instead of arms. The ogre, still alive and alert, took a step back from the smaller man's glare.

"Very well," said the Master of the Games, and she hurled a handful of grayish powder in Skellum's face. His hat blocked most of it, but enough got through to cover his eyes and clog his nose and throat. Skellum swooned but did not fall. With his cape wrapped around his arm, he took two staggering steps forward, as elegantly as he could, and pressed his back against the wall. Then he slid to the floor, unconscious.

"Forgive me, Master Skellum." The First stood alone in his private chambers, surrounded by black candles. Skellum straightened his cape and got to his feet.

"I'm afraid I really must insist," the First was saying. "You must trust in me. This will be for the best."

"But I've done nothing wrong. I've been a valued and loyal servant all my life."

The First came forward. "And you shall remain so, even after death."

Skellum looked around the darkened room. It was far too lonely and silent without all the guards and attendants.

"Pater," he said. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to, my son. I do." The First offered his hand to Skellum, and the dementist recoiled.

"Go ahead," the First urged. "None of this is real, and no harm can come to you."

"Pater, I-"

"Take my hand, Cybariss."

Skellum woodenly stepped forward and took hold of the First's cold, gray fingers. There was no pain. There was no stench. None of the things that were rumored to occur when someone touched the First happened.

"You see?" The First smiled. He pulled Skellum in close in a full, two-armed hug.

"Go now," the First whispered. "Obey me. Honor the Cabal, and serve Kuberr."

"I will, Pater."

"Outstanding."

The First released his hand, and Skellum fell back, into a soft, silent void of darkness and mist.

"Master Skellum."

Skellum opened his eyes. Louche, the Master of the Games, and the stalkers were looming over him.

"Are you ready to go now?"

"I am," Skellum said. He gave his hat a test spin and gracefully rose to his feet. He brushed a few imaginary bits of fluff from his cape as they led him out the front door and back toward the pits, keeping his head high, his eyes clear, and his pace measured. He was determined that no one who saw him would have the slightest idea that he was a prisoner.

"Ladies and gentlemen, making his triumphant return to the Cabal City pits… Master Skellum!"

Skellum stood alone in the pits. At least they hadn't called him "caster."

"Joining Skellum, and fresh from her recent tour of the deepest parts of the Mer empire… Caster Fulla!"

The crowd cheered and hooted as Fulla stalked angrily out onto the pit floor. Skellum knew her, of course. She was one of the best casters ever to take the floor, but they moved in different circles, and he had rarely interacted with her. By reputation, she was either manic from the joy of battle, or she was playful like a mischievous child. Today, she just seemed annoyed.

"Skellum?" she said.

"Fulla."

"What in nine hells is going on? I wasn't scheduled to go back in the pits until tomorrow."

"It seems we have been chosen to throw this match with the Order."

Fulla scowled. "The First is wise. But I thought you didn't do this sort of thing."

"I don't." Skellum spun his hat as the announcer introduced the competition.

"… and their opponents, here to expose the Cabal's weakness and corruption… and in the process, earn a slot in the upcoming Mirari games, I present Major Teroh, Sergeant Baankis, and Justicar Gobal of the Order!"

The crowd booed, and Skellum blinked behind his spinning hat. "Did he say 'Baankis?' "

"Who cares? I just want to get this over with." She drew her sword, ran her thumb along its edge, and said, "Say, what's a jus-ticar?"

"Tonight, the Order team will be joined by Yewma the druid and her mandrill wolf-monkeys. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, place your bets."

Skellum noticed that Fulla's wide eyes were such a light shade of blue that they almost seemed white. Then he realized she had asked him a question, and he glanced across the pit at the Order team. He recognized Teroh and Baankis, despite the thin beard Baankis had grown and the new insignia on his robes. The justicar stood ramrod straight on Baankis's left. He was a tall, muscular, partially armored figure whose face was hidden behind a gleaming helm and visor. Yewma was tall and wiry and carried a gnarled staff made of what appeared to be an entire sapling with the roots trimmed off. She wore the roots wound tightly around each forearm like a pair of wooden gauntlets. Yewma stood next to a large wooden box that had small, barred windows on each side. The box shook and rattled as the creatures inside jostled one another and screamed.

"I don't know what a justicar is," Skellum said, "but it looks kind of like a knight."

The prep horn sounded after the announcer's final word, and Skellum spun his hat again. He achieved a dementia trance by juxtaposing images of the world around him with the darkness provided by his hat. Then he projected his own internal landscape onto the darkness and spun the hat faster until the world within merged with the world without. When that happened, his head became an actual doorway through which he could release his monsters.

In this case, however, he had too much to keep track of in the real world. There were too many opponents for Skellum to find the footing he needed to go into dementia space, and having Fulla as a partner further distracted him. Also, he couldn't clear his head of thoughts of Chainer. I'm going to die, he realized, even though I'm rich and handsome. Even though there will be no one to protect my prize student.

The starting horn sounded. Fulla let out a yell, Yewma opened her box, and the toy soldiers drew and advanced.

The druid had unleashed eight large, baboonlike primates, each over seventy pounds and armed with a long canine snout capable of crushing stone. Colorful fur wreathed their heads and shoulders, and they screamed like lunatics turned loose in a graveyard. They were the wild predators of the deep woods, chasing down their quarry and tearing it to pieces as an organized pack. Skellum wasn't sure what Yewma had bewitched them with, but the druid was careful to leap out of their line of sight once she had opened the box.

Skellum spun his hat faster and faster. It was the only weapon he had. Fulla, meanwhile, had created a zombified rhino and a small, hissing hydra. The rhino charged directly at the Order trio, but she had to drive the hydra forward with her sword before it joined the battle.

When the rhino was twenty feet away and closing, the justicar raised his hands over his head and clapped them together. A bolt of the purest white lightning leaped from the point of contact to the rhino's body and the zombified hulk literally exploded, raining fetid flesh all over the arena. Fulla swore and charged forward herself, driving the hydra as she went.

The largest mandrill came straight at Skellum, while the others formed an attack column behind him. Two of the group broke off and circled wide around him on either side, and the main body slowed to allow them to get into position for an all-out assault. They never stopped whooping and screaming.

Skellum's view of the arena started to shudder and melt, the first signs of the trance. He opened his eyes wider, never more desperate to find that other world within and disappear inside.

Chainer waited outside the First's chamber until a hand attendant came to admit him. He had never been alone with the First before, and he was eager to make a good impression without Skellum to run interference for him, or Kamahl to cover for. Of course, the First was always surrounded by his attendants, but once you got used to them it was easy to overlook them as separate entities.

Inside the chamber, Chainer was disappointed to see someone other than the First and his attendants waiting. He was a tall man, slightly blue, with small silver horns. Chainer recognized him but waited for the formal introduction.

"Ambassador Laquatus of Mer," the First said, "meet Chainer, one of our best dementists-in-training."

Laquatus looked Chainer over and disdainfully held out his hand, knuckles up, for Chainer to take. "Charmed." he said.

Chainer slapped his metal hand on top of the merman's and his other hand below. He forced the ambassador's hand perpendicular to the floor and shook it vigorously, disarranging the ambassador's carefully wrapped robe.

"The pleasure's all mine, Ambassador." Laquatus quickly withdrew his hand as soon as Chainer released it. Chainer smiled pleasantly at the merman.

"We were just discussing the future of Otaria," the First said. "Grand stuff, but it has to start somewhere. Ambassador Laquatus and I are starting it here and now."

"The Mer Empire is the sea, " Laquatus said, "and Cabal City is a port city. We have always had much in common."

The First scowled slightly but went on. "But not enough in common, unfortunately. I was just describing how the crusat raids have begun again and how disruptive they are to business."

"The Mer Empire is always concerned about maintaining the flow of commerce between the land and the depths."

The First waited patiently for Laquatus to finish. "But not concerned enough," he added.

"You have to understand, Patriarch," Laquatus said, "the Empire has a long, solid relationship with the Order. They aren't like you. They don't have a single ruler who speaks for them all with a single voice. While one division prepares for crusat, the others are merely trying to rebuild. Morally and economically, I cannot turn my back on the entire Order."

Chainer choked back a snort when the Ambassador said, "morally," and he saw the shadow of a smile on the First's lips, too.

"I would never ask you to do something so drastic as to turn your back on the entire Order," the First said. "Indeed, even we don't want the Order to be wiped out entirely. Do we, Chainer?"

"No, Pater," Chainer's tone belied his words. "Not at all."

"We simply want there to be peace between our two groups. Civilized people don't kill each other because of philosophical differences. I was hoping I could convince the ambassador to join us in censuring the Order. Lodging official protests over the crusat. Demanding restitution from Bretath, if he ever returns to this region. Perhaps, Ambassador" the First said, "it isn't your relationship with the Order that needs to be solidified. It's your relationship with the Cabal."

Laquatus smiled greedily. "You have something in mind, Patriarch?" "I do. You recently lost your champion, did you not? And while it served you well, and was formidable in combat, it was never as… refined as a man of your stature requires."

"Turg was an excellent jack," Laquatus said. "He is sorely missed." "What if my young dementist here were to provide you with a new champion? As I say, he's one of our best."

"A most generous offer," Laquatus said, "but if we really want to strengthen the bond between us, might I suggest something even more valuable?" With the exception of the First's attendants, everyone in the room knew what he meant. Chainer's fists clenched.

"The Mirari has already been slated as the grand prize in the Cabal City Games, to be held three months from now. My apologies, Ambassador. It is no longer mine to offer. But please," he gestured at Chainer to step up, "accept a new familiar from us. As a gesture of good faith."

Chainer came forward. "I can make you forget the frog," he said. "Tell me what you need, and the Cabal will produce it."

Laquatus looked him over once more. "It must be powerful. Unbeatable."

"Then it will be."

"It must be obedient. Minimal intelligence, highly developed instincts."

"Then it will be."

"It must be mobile. Able to accompany me wherever I go, above ground or below the sea." "It will be."

Laquatus looked to the First. "When?"

The First smiled. "Regrettably, Chainer is unavailable for the next week or so. But as soon as he returns, he will be at your disposal."

Chainer watched the merman building a timeline in his head. "Can't he start now?"

"Alas, no. He is still recovering from injuries suffered in the pits."

Laquatus finished calculating. "A week, then. With your permission, Patriarch, I will stay on in the guest house and continue to enjoy the sights and sounds of Cabal City while I wait for the boy to heal."

"Outstanding. Now, if you will excuse us, Chainer has a report to make."

Laquatus was slow to leave, but the hand attendants gathered around him and firmly led him to the door. Chainer knew he could speak freely, for the First's attendants always escorted his guests all the way out into the street. Laquatus was just the kind to try to linger behind in order to eavesdrop. He shuddered, overcome by a fit of revulsion for the fawning politician.

Once Laquatus was gone, the First spoke to Chainer casually. Not as an intimate, but as a peer. "I'm sorry to call you away from the pits, Caster Chainer, but the ambassador needed seeing to. It was not difficult to arrange for your replacement."

"I am your obedient child, Pater." Chainer suddenly smelled Dragon's Blood. The First watched him with mild interest as the boy began sniffing the air.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Pater. It's just that…" He sniffed again, absently looking behind him, above him, all around. "Something's… pulling me. Do you smell incense?"

"This room is scented daily."

"No, I mean… this room reeks of Dragon's Blood. Can't you smell it?"

"Perhaps you should take a moment to gather yourself, Caster Chainer. You're not making sense."

Chainer cried out and slammed the palms of his hands into his forehead. He smelled the smoke, he felt the black sand beneath his feet, he saw the mustard sky…

"Chainer," Skellum's voice said. It was high pitched, buzzing with distortion. It cut through Chainer's head like a blade.

"Skellum?" Chainer said, as the First's hand attendant slapped him for the third time. Chainer broke the man's collarbone with his metal fist, shoved him back, and bolted for the door. Two brawny killers leaped out of the shadows and took him down before he went four steps.

"Don't harm him." The First spoke loudly but calmly. "Mazeura," he whispered, hissing the secret name and freezing Chainer in mid-struggle. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Skellum," Chainer said. He was immobile beneath the weight of the First's guards and the power of his secret name on the First's lips.

The lead wolf-monkey stopped five feet from Skellum and bared its teeth. Behind it, the rest of the troop chattered and pounded the ground. Skellum himself stood with his hand raised, as if in greeting. With a start, the dementist master came back to the pit and saw the wolf-monkeys closing in. The crowd booed his complete lack of motion.

Skellum stopped his hat with a gap in front. The leader was tensing for its charge. Skellum smiled amiably.

"Animal," he said. The leader snarled, then dove for Skellum's face. Before its slashing fangs could latch on, however, the vortex in Skellum's head boomed and a smoking comet erupted out of his hat and crashed into the wolf-monkey. It was a near-formless horror, all shadows and teeth, but it devoured the lead mandrill whole in a single bite. It hissed, and snapped at another wolf-monkey. Then it began to fade.

"How are you doing, Skellum?" Fulla was bedeviling Major Teroh with a pair of wolf-headed spiders and was beating Sgt. Baankis back with her gladius. She crowed happily and unleashed a zombie centaur at the justicar. Yewma cried out in horror when she saw Fulla's latest contribution, and the wolf- monkeys reoriented on the caster.

"Better now," Skellum said, the sing-song quality of his voice resonating in his own head. "I've got a lot on my mind, however." He spat out four small comets in rapid succession, each transforming in midair. While the pack of wolf-monkeys howled and gibbered toward Fulla, Skellum sent a quartet of man-sized millipedes scurrying after them.

Skellum saw that he had a moment's respite and let his mind drift away from the pits.

"Chainer?" he called. "Forgive me, my boy, but I need you to see this."

Chainer swooned and found himself standing in the pits. There was a match going on, a busy one with monkeys and toy soldiers and dementia castings and glowing knights. Chainer's hat spun before his eyes. He blinked. His hat?

"Skellum!" Fulla called. She was tossing out monsters left and right, but she was slowly being overwhelmed.

Chainer's vision dropped, and there were suddenly twice as many monsters fighting with Fulla. She howled again, knocking one Order soldier to his knees and ducking under another's sword.

"I know those two," Chainer said aloud, but he didn't hear his own voice.

"I'm sorry, Chainer," Skellum's voice said in his head, "but I couldn't go without saying goodbye."

"What?" Chainer's voice still carried no sound. "What do you mean? That's Bunkus and Teroh, isn't it?"

"Remember me." A vision of Skellum stood, his eyes sad and pleading. "Remember how I died." The vision put on its hat and raised a hand. "We deserve better than this, my boy."

There was a horrific screech, and Chainer turned just in time to see a glowing knight tear a hydra's headless body in half. His skin had begun to crackle beneath his shining armor, giving the impression that he was composed only of armored plates and energy. Arcs of electricity crawled over him from head to toe.

"Sergeant Baankis?" the glowing knight's voice clanged like a gong. "It is time." The arcs of electricity on the justicar's body began to grow bigger and brighter. They increased in number and frequency, with more and more rolling over him until his body was scarcely visible at the center of an electrical storm. The air in the pit was being stirred up as if by a great wind, and Chainer felt a deep, vibrating hum in his ear. It seemed the entire building was shaking.

Disoriented, Chainer bowled Baankis over and took a few faltering steps toward the justicar. Whatever he was doing, it was affecting Chainer's balance. He couldn't see Fulla, but if she was still on the pit floor, she was caught in the same maelstrom he was. Chainer was willing to lose the match, but the longer this went on, the more he felt like the justicar wouldn't stop just because the flag was down. He couldn't concentrate enough to cast the death bloom or unleash a monster, so he snapped his metal arm out straight and tried to lash a chain across the justicar's face.

Before the chain could even form, electricity leaped in one huge arc from the justicar to Chainer's body. For Chainer, the world went white. His body was blasted halfway across the arena…

… Chainer opened his eyes in the First's private chambers, carried by cutthroats and attended by zombies.

Skellum rose painfully to one knee. His hat was torn and burned and hung in tatters across his face. One eye was swollen shut, and he could feel the blood running freely from his nose. Fulla was down, halfway across the floor, and the smoking carcasses of their combined summonings were quickly fading away. The surviving wolf-monkeys turned and oriented on Skellum once more. "We give," Skellum called, as loudly as his burned lungs permitted. The wo If-monkeys kept coming. He saw Teroh laugh and cross his arms. The major gestured and spoke to Yewma, and the druid shrugged. With a finger on either side of her mouth, she blew two short, sharp whistles.

The monkeys spread out and surrounded Skellum.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Skellum, and I wear-"

The wolf-monkey flanking Skellum's left lunged forward and hit him high on the shoulder before he could continue. Skellum felt a wet, searing slap and found himself on both knees, hat gone, face-to-naked- face with the lead primate. They stared at each other for a moment, the wolf-monkey slavering and Skellum coughing blood.

"Finish this," Teroh said. Yewma whistled again, and the wolf-monkeys piled on to Skellum with a chorus of hideous screams. The victory horn sounded over a chorus of boos, and Yewma the druid frantically blew the signal that called off her troop. It took quite a long time to get all the blood-maddened mandrills back into their cage.