The Crucible of the Dragon God

The figure approached then slapped both its palms onto its thighs. Then it suddenly squatted down, sticking its tongue out as far as it would go, which was quite some way, and waddled its head from side to side.

'Wadaladalla!' It shouted — or something like that. A curious sound that made even its companions look at him askance.

'Hey!' Kali shouted. 'Unless wadaladalla means 'release the girl right now,' I am going to be very pitsed off!'

Everything went silent. The figure stared at her, and both hands suddenly produced ominous looking objects not unlike the goblin death rattles Merrit Moon dealt in and shook them violently in her general direction. Then it stomped gradually nearer, like some wrestler at the Scholten carnival, until it came face to face, whereupon it shook the rattles again and its tongue flicked at her nose.

There was just enough give in the chains for Kali to knee him in the groin.

'Ohooooooo… huuuurrrr… Gods and farking pits!' A man then.

As he staggered back cradling himself, Kali ignored the disturbed murmurs from his friends and stared at her victim hard. Something wasn't right here, she suddenly realised. For one thing, it had occurred to her that all that unka-chaka stuff reminded her very much of a song she'd once hated and, for another, it had only just clicked that this strange man wasn't anywhere near as hairy as his mates. Not at all, in fact. Above all else, though, there was the matter of a couple of familiar tattoos she could make out between the fetishes he wore — those and one she wasn't familiar with on his muscular left bicep. A declaration of love for someone called, of all things, Endless Passion.

Only one man would wear a tattoo like that, Kali knew.

'Slowhand?'

'Guhhhhng… h-hi, Hooper, how you doing?'

'How am I doing? Oh, you know, shot with a paralysing dart, kidnapped, stripped, chained to a sacrificial altar, you?'

The exploded chicken mask bobbed back and forth. 'Oh, you know,' he said, and paused to cup his lower regions once more. 'Hoooooo, hells… fine, fine.'

'Whatever you're doing wearing that farking thing, take it off! What the hells are you doing here?'

Slowhand slapped his palm over her mouth. 'Trying to get you out of here. So will you please keep your voice down?'

Kali's eyes narrowed and, for a second, she debated kneeing him again. Instead, she spoke quietly. 'Whyfmychayndupwifnocloffson?'

Slowhand withdrew his hand. 'What?'

'Why am I chained up with no clothes on?'

'Oh, yes. Bit of a long story. Seems these people are having a problem with their god. Think it's angry because strangers invaded its — invaded their — holy ground.'

'Strangers?'

'The Filth, from what I've pieced together.' Slowhand said. He noticed the figures standing in the cave were regarding their lengthy and hushed conversation with some suspicion and, to appease them, did a little dance. Then, he frowned. 'Led by my sister, as it happens.'

Kali was already beginning to suspect that this 'holy ground' was the discovery Jenna had mentioned in her recordings — but that someone was worshipping it came as a surprise. Despite her current predicament, this was becoming more and more interesting.

'I know about Jenna. Aldrededor, Dolorosa and I found a bracelet.'

Now it was Slowhand's turn to be surprised. 'I lost that bracelet. She gave it to me before I fell out of the sky.'

'You were on one of their airships?'

'Yes and no. Another long story.' Slowhand glanced over at his companions, and shook one of his rattles for effect. 'But now isn't the time.'

'I'd go with that. So, exactly how are you getting me out of here?'

'I'm not.'

'Excuse me?'

Slowhand hesitated. 'Thing is, these people think a sign of their God's anger is the k'nid. That they're demons whose release into the world is a punishment which can only halted by the sacrifice of one of the strangers. They had their eyes on me when they found me but… I managed to persuade them otherwise.'

'Don't tell me, you beguiled them by summoning balloon animals. Pits, Slowhand, you still carry balloons?'

He shrugged. 'Well, they weren't balloons exactly, but…'

'I do not want to know!'

'Shush! Okay, forget the balloons. If you must know, I trained them in the making and use of bows, as well. They'd never seen such a weapon before and, with the scarcity of wildlife up here, believe me, they come in handy.'

Kali sighed. 'That explains the gnawing out there.'

'Aha. Before, they sustained themselves mainly on mountain fungus and vegetables.'

'Oh, Gods.'

'I know. Anyway, Hooper, the point is, I survived. But they still needed to sacrifice someone.'

'Aldrededor!' Kali said, concerned. 'Dolorosa!'

'No, no. They're fine. Because I suggested you.'

'What?'

'I figured the only way to get us all out of this was to convince them we're not strangers, that we're like them. And our best chance of doing that was with you…'

'What are you talking about?'

'One of the first things I noticed about these people — they call themselves the yazan, by the way — is that they're different.'

'Different?'

'Look, there's no time to explain,' Slowhand said, and produced a vicious looking knife from beneath his fetishes. 'Just be grateful I managed to persuade them to let me perform the sacrifice, my way.'

Kali stared at Slowhand in disbelief as he placed the point of the knife on her sternum, then hissed in shock as she felt it penetrate the skin.

'Ow! Liam, what the hells do you think you're doi — '

'Don't move!'

'Don't move?! The hells I'm not going to move!'

Slowhand gripped her arm firmly and unexpectedly winked. 'Trust me, Hooper, all right? The Death of A Thousand Cuts is the only way out of this.'

'The Death of A Thousand Cuts!?'

'Will you please calm down.'

'Slowhand, you're sticking a farking knife in my chest!'

The archer paused, leaning in and whispering in Kali's ear. 'Hooper, I cannot tell you how good I felt when I saw you were still alive.' He shrugged. 'Do you really think I'd spoil that by slicing you open now?'

'It does seem a little odd, even for you.'

'Fine, then trust me. Please.'

Slowhand's grip on the gutting knife tightened. And Kali felt its tip being held against her measuredly.

'Do what you have to.' Kali said, staring him in the eyes.

Slowhand nodded, and then drew the tip of the knife down her sternum, scoring a shallow red line about six inches in length, and she moaned softly as it began to ooze blood. As it did, Slowhand span around to face the yazan, throwing his hands in the air to reveal the wound — what Kali fervently hoped was the first and last cut. But then the yazan stared at it and, to her discomfort, nodded. Their meaning was clear —