Faerie Lord

Forty-Seven

Brimstone was going to try to kill him, Chalkhill thought. The double bluff was typical. Hairstreak wants Brimstone to kill Chalkhill. Brimstone tells Chalkhill this, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, to show he has no intention of killing Chalkhill. Then Brimstone kills Chalkhill anyway. Probably once they had this damn cage hidden.

Well, two could play at that game. Once they had this damn cage hidden, Chalkhill would move first. With Brimstone out of the way and the location of the cage in Chalkhill’s head, Chalkhill could go home and negotiate any deal he pleased. He could have anything he wanted with this knowledge: more wealth, fame, power, whatever. And more importantly, he could enjoy it all without Brimstone in his face.

It would be easy to kill Brimstone. The old fool wouldn’t be expecting it and Chalkhill was the one with the click-gun. But not quite yet. Although the porters were dismissed, the cage still had to be put in place and that was a two-man job.

‘How much further do we have to push this?’ he asked breathlessly. His legs ached, his arms ached, his shoulders ached and he was positively pouring sweat in a hideously disgusting smelly manner.

‘As far as we need to,’ Brimstone said irritatingly. He was one of those skinny old men who never seemed to sweat at all. Not that it made much difference to his smell. Even now, with the good old days of demon servants a receding memory, he still had the whiff of sulphur about him.

‘Yes, but how far is that, Silas?’ Chalkhill asked. Before they got their marching orders, the porters had lugged the crate high into the foothills. Once they’d gone, Brimstone had discarded the packing and released the nants to lighten things up a bit. With everything stripped away, the cage itself was a lot lighter, but even so, getting it as far as the cave mouth had been a struggle and now they were manhandling it along a warren of tunnels that ran deep into the mountain itself. Brimstone had clearly been here before, for he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

‘Not far,’ Brimstone said in exactly the same tone he’d used when he told Chalkhill the mountains were close. Then, rather surprisingly, he nodded towards the cage and added, ‘Feeds on light.’

Chalkhill stared through the bars. ‘Seriously?’

Brimstone paused to lean against the cage and nod his head. ‘Photosynthesis. Nearest thing to a leaf who’d have thought it. But then you can’t really imagine one taking a dump, can you? Anyway, we have to hide it away so deeply it won’t be found, but it must have a light source otherwise it starves to death. No good to us dead, eh? But I have just the place. Come on, you’ve caught your breath now: a bit more effort and we’re there.’

It took more than a bit more effort, but when they finally did get there, Chalkhill had to admit Brimstone had chosen an amazing location. It was a vast cavern deep in the heart of the mountain, guarded by a complicated maze of tunnels. Crystal formations clung to every wall and hung down in stalactites like chandeliers. But the stroke of natural genius lay high above in the vaulted ceiling. A crevice in the bedrock of the mountain let in a beam of sunshine that shone into the cavern like a searchlight and reflected back from ten thousand crystal facets.

‘Shouldn’t go hungry,’ Chalkhill remarked.

‘Let’s get it underneath the beam,’ Brimstone said. ‘That way we’ll be sure.’

Together they manhandled the cage across the cavern floor and into the beam. It looked like a display piece or a particularly elaborate stage set. Chalkhill stepped back and reached surreptitiously for his click-gun. Then hesitated. If he killed Brimstone now, he might have problems finding his way out of the mountain. He thought he knew the route through the winding tunnels, but frankly he wasn’t sure. It was difficult enough pushing a heavy cage without trying to remember exactly where you were going. Best to wait until they were out in the open again. Unless Brimstone tried to kill him, of course, in which case he’d use the click-gun and take his chances.

‘There now,’ Brimstone was saying. ‘Isn’t that a pretty sight?’ He stepped back and briskly brushed the dust off his hands. ‘Now we’d better set up the Guardian.’

Chalkhill blinked. ‘Guardian?’ Brimstone hadn’t said anything about a Guardian.

‘Don’t think we can leave a thing like this unguarded, do you?’ Brimstone snapped. ‘We’ll put a Guardian in the outer cavern.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘Or do you think it would be better wandering the tunnels? We want something that keeps people out as well as keeping that -’ he jerked his head in the direction of the cage ’ – in.’

Chalkhill stared at him. ‘Just a minute, Silas – you did say Guardian?’

‘Yes, yes. What do you think I said?’

‘A magical Guardian?’

‘Of course a magical Guard – ’ Brimstone broke off and a slow smile spread across his face. ‘You don’t really think I’d come on a job like this without my spells, do you?’

‘But they dismember you in this country if you bring in spells!’ Chalkhill wailed. It had never occurred to him Brimstone might risk it. But the old scrote obviously had. Which meant that he, Chalkhill, was standing here armed with only a click-gun, while Brimstone could well be stuffed to the gills with magical armaments.

‘Only if they catch you.’ Brimstone grinned. ‘Right, I’m going to need your help again.’ He started to walk back towards the outer cavern.

Chalkhill stood for a moment, open-mouthed, then hurried after him. ‘What sort of Guardian are you going to set up?’ he burbled. ‘You can’t use a demon since they made Blue Queen of Hael. A captive spirit will find a way to break free eventually. I don’t think a thought form is going to hold what we have in here. I can’t imagine-’

Brimstone stopped and looked him soberly in the eye. ‘I was thinking of the Jormungand,’ he said.

‘My gods,’ squeaked Chalkhill, ‘not the Jormungand!’