what if she’d reacted with the same lukewarm confusion Tower had received? I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep either.
Angry for feeling any sympathy, and rapidly tiring of the Truthspeaker’s snoring, I drifted back toward Relic to tell him about the encounter. With any luck, he was fast asleep and I’d wake him.
As I air-walked back across the gap to the main platform, my eye was caught by movement on the tree where the Goons were staying. I moved closer. In the shadows, I could make out Menagerie. He had a row of small glass vials laid out before him as he studied the faint outline of a bat on his inner thigh. A drop of black ink glistened on a needle held in his right hand. His lips were pressed tightly together as he jabbed the bat in rapid, repeated motions. On his left forearm, a tiger glistened with fresh black ink. I was curious how he’d ever reach the faded wolf tattoos on the small of his back, but I didn’t get the chance to find out.
As Menagerie concentrated, oblivious to the world around him, I noticed Reeker peek at him from beneath his blanket. Deciding that Menagerie wasn’t watching, Reeker rolled slowly to the edge of the platform and carefully lowered himself down to the woven vine ladder.
If he hadn’t been so quiet, I’d have assumed he was going down to use the bathroom. But, he kept looking over his shoulder, and was taking care not to make a sound. He’d never struck me as someone who worried about disturbing other people’s sleep. Suspicious, I drifted closer to him, though not too close. Even though my sense of smell was muted as a ghost, I knew to keep several arm lengths between us.
Reeker reached the forest floor and stealthily crept toward the edge of the village. He went to the far side of a huge tree trunk and pressed his back to the bark. He took one more look around, then crouched and pulled out a small leather pouch, placing it on his knee. Quickly he produced a small rectangle of paper, flattened it out, then placed a large pinch of tobacco in the center. He glanced off to his right, then his left, as he rolled the paper into an untidy tube.
Finally, satisfied that he was truly alone, he pulled a wooden match out of the pouch. He ignited the tip with a quick flick of his thumbnail. A brief breath of sulfur scented the air. He brought the tiny flame to the cigarette and puffed once, twice, three times, firing it to a bright cherry ember.
He shook the match to snuff it. The small fire kept burning.
He shook it again, harder. Still, it didn’t go out.
He frowned, staring at the miniscule blaze as it sputtered down the wooden dowel, nearing his finger and thumb. He reached out with his free hand, and closed his forefinger and thumb upon the feeble flare to be done with it.
He screamed. A sizzle sounded from his fingers as white tendrils of smoke spun into the air. A yellow- orange flame danced over his hairy knuckles. He waved his hand frantically, crying, “Yowowowow!” as the fire grew brighter.
Now, his sleeve was on fire. He dropped and rolled on the forest floor. The ground was damp, but his efforts only stoked the flames to greater heights. In a matter of seconds, his clothes were engulfed. His screams grew ever louder.
With a sudden whoosh, Lord Tower shot down from the sky. He was fully enveloped in his armor; there was no way he’d had time to put it on in any ordinary way. The Gloryhammer turned night into day as the knight flashed toward Reeker. He grabbed the flailing skunk-man by the ankle, then streaked off in the direction of the stream. I followed at the speed of thought as he threw Reeker into the pool where Infidel had bathed. Reeker vanished beneath the surface with a loud hiss and a mushroom cloud of steam.
Tower spun around. There were flames dancing on the forest floor where Reeker had rolled. They flared higher and higher, the ground crackling and whistling as dampness boiled away. Tower gripped his Gloryhammer with both hands as the flames took on a decidedly serpentine form. At first, I thought a vine was on fire, curling from the heat. Then, I realized I was looking at a dragon — a small drake, no taller than a man, made of pure flame. It reared up on its blazing legs and sucked in air. Tower charged as the beast spewed a cone of flame. The fire engulfed the knight as he swung his enchanted hammer with a grunt. The weapon went right through the flame-beast.
“I’m on it!” shouted Aurora, running toward the conflagration with her hands outstretched. Snowflakes the size of saucers began to fall, vaporizing as they hit the beast with a staccato sss sss sss. Aurora was iced up and took a swing at the fire-dragon with her frozen gauntlet. She spun around, off balance, as her punch failed to connect. There was nothing solid about the beast to hit.
The fire seemed to laugh as it blazed brighter. Aurora raised her arm to cover her eyes as she stumbled back, her armor cracking.
Suddenly, Infidel dropped straight down toward the drake, holding an outstretched blanket. The fluttering edges engulfed the small dragon as she landed, dimming the light. The beast screamed as sparks swirled around the edges.
Off to one corner, there was a tiny remnant of flame curling around a small twig, no bigger than a cockroach. It leapt to a stick, and flashed into a tiny dragon the size of a mouse, then leapt again toward a fallen branch to grow as big as a cat.
Tower charged toward it, trying to stomp it beneath his gleaming boots, but the fire-cat darted away, burning leaves and twigs as it grew to the size of a dog. Aurora pointed both hands at the ground and the forest debris it needed to grow was suddenly coated in ice. The creature darted back toward Infidel, stretching its neck out to nip the edge of the blanket. Infidel jumped back with a yelp as the cloth flared; in the blink of an eye, the creature was man-sized once more.
“You guys are a frickin’ joke,” grumbled a voice from the shadows. The creature craned its blazing neck to discover Zetetic standing directly behind it, hiking up his tattered robes. The Deceiver grumbled, “I can piss out a fire no bigger than this.”
The creature roared toward him, reaching out with claws of flame.
The Deceiver began to pee.
The creature hissed, drawing back. It writhed as streams of urine spattered the ground where it stood. The flames flickered and danced, reaching for new fuel, but the Deceiver kept a steady aim and soon the ground around it was drenched. Fifteen seconds later, the flame flickered out, and the last pale red ember went black.
Aurora demurely covered her eyes as Zetetic stuffed his manhood back into the briefs he wore beneath his robe.
“Good job,” said Tower, his eyes on the Deceiver’s face. “Fast thinking.”
“I’m sure it seemed fast to you,” said Zetetic. He dropped to one knee, studying the blackened ground. His eyes flickered over it like he was reading a map. He reached out and picked up a twisted black twig a few inches in length, right where Reeker had first been standing. He studied it closely, then asked, “Which idiot lit the match?”
“The half-seed!” exclaimed Lord Tower. He turned and bounded through the forest, his armor clanging. Up above, there were a hundred voices jabbering; we’d probably awakened every pygmy in a five-mile radius.
Tower leapt into the pool with a splash, fishing around in the waist deep water with his gauntlets. He jerked upright suddenly, pulling a limp, blackened form back into the air.
Reeker wasn’t moving. His hair was completely burned away; his scalp was raw and red, with charred black flesh peeling away from the bone in places. Tower laid him on the stone by the pool. He pressed on the skunk- man’s chest, forcing out a fountain of water.
Menagerie rushed onto the scene, with No-Face trailing behind him. He didn’t pause to ask what had happened. He pushed Tower aside and dropped his ear to his friend’s chest. His brow knitted as he listened. Then, he jerked his head away and placed his mouth on Reeker’s lips. Reeker’s belly rose as Menagerie blew breath into him.
“Gluh,” said No-Face, sadly.
Menagerie continued to work, breathing in air, then pushing it out, pausing between breathes to listen to the chest.
“Is there a heartbeat?” Aurora asked.
Menagerie shook his head.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” said Aurora, sounding sadder than I would have expected.
The Deceiver looked down at Reeker’s charred form and said, “Why not? He’s not breathing, there’s no
