The Chick Is In The Mail

grip.

Reptilla stared at Jenna, as if baffled by what had been done to him, or confused by the lull in battle. He gathered himself together and stood erect once more. His jaw opened, but nothing came out. After a long moment, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and then their green lids closed.

Reptilla fell.

He fell like a mountain might fall, or a redwood, with a certain majestic grace, but he fell nonetheless. The measureless tons of his mass impacted the park's trampled contours with a sound like thunder, and the earth for miles around shook.

Then, at last, all was still.

'Now what?' Jenna asked, panting. She considered the motionless monster at her feet-at the Mobile Defender's feet-and wondered fleetingly what had brought him here.

She wondered if there were more where he came from.

'He-he is defeated,' Teruhisha said, from where he sat. 'Perhaps even destroyed. Defeated, not driven off.' There was a wondering sound in his voice. 'This has never happened before, never. No one has ever-'

'He never faced a world champion before,' Jenna said. She grinned. This almost made up for losing the title.

Almost.

A thought struck her. The control armatures had retracted now, so the Mobile Defender remained stationary as she turned to face Teruhisha. 'Say,' she asked, 'what does a job like this pay, anyhow?'

Teruhisha didn't respond. He had donned a telephone headset and was speaking in urgent tones to someone. Jenna heard her name several times. After a minute or more of hurried conference, he broke the connection.

'What's the verdict?' she asked. 'What do the judges say?'

'My superiors are quite pleased,' he said. 'You are the hero of the day. On behalf of the Emperor, and the government of Japan -'

Jenna interrupted. The details could wait. 'We make a good team,' she said. She could afford to be generous.

Teruhisha took a breath. 'There is more,' he said slowly, 'if you have no other plans-'

Jenna almost laughed. He was persistent, she had to admit. 'Teruhisha, you big silly,' she said, standing. 'Not tonight. All I want right now is a shower and sleep. Maybe another time?'

Teruhisha shook his head. 'That is not what I meant,' he said, blushing. 'At least, not now. I have been given new orders.'

Jenna looked at him.

'To the north,' Teruhisha said. 'There has been a sighting.' He paused again, then spoke slowly. 'It appears to be a gigantic ape.'

Jenna sat down again.

Hallah Iron-Thighs & the Change of Life by K.D. Wentworth

The Jamplit Mountains between Alowey and Damery were tall and forbidding, infested with nasty hulking bandits who hardly ever changed their socks or wrote home to their mothers. Gerta and I had done in eighteen already that morning, which wasn't even a record for a single day.

For the first time in our long partnership though, I hadn't kept up my end of the fighting. My mail was tight across the back and under my arms, making me much slower on the downswing. The score so far was Gerta, twelve; Hallah, six. I was in a seething, foul mood.

'It's just the Change of Life, Hallah.' My sister-in-arms, Gerta, a good ten years younger, gazed blithely ahead at the winding mountain trail. She flicked a gnat off her wrist. 'That's why it's best to die young. It happens to all of us eventually if we don't get our skulls smashed in glorious battle at an early age.'

'Not to Hallah Iron-Thighs, eldest daughter of Marulla Big-Fist, it doesn't!' My bay mare, Corpsemaker, missed a step on the rock-strewn trail and I had to grab the saddle for support.

'So, when we get to Damery, we'll stop in at Benito's Hammer-and-Go and let his armorer add a few rings. It just means there's more of you to-'

I drew my sword with a great ringing hiss, irritated all the more at the way my mail pinched at the slightest move. 'If you say it means there's just more of me to love, I'll slit you from nose to belly button!'

Our client, Perchis Dal, an anemic-looking hymnal merchant from far-off Brezia, cringed, then gazed longingly down into the green river valley below. His white donkey, resigned to his none-too-steady weight, merely bobbed its head and snorted. Not wanting to be left out, the three gray donkeys following behind laden with boxes of hymnals did the same.

Gerta tossed her head and her golden braids flew in the breeze. 'What I was going to say is that there is more of you to aim at now, and so less chance of taking a mortal blow.'

'Oh. That's okay, then.' My brow furrowed. 'I think.'

I stared sourly at Gerta's perfect profile and firm figure. The serving lad, down at the Disappointed Sheep Tavern, had been making eyes at her last night, while I had only attracted the attentions of a smelly, no-good, toothless goat herder. I'd had to threaten to disembowel the latter in order to keep the idiot from hovering behind my back the whole evening.

'You always get crabby when you're too long in the saddle,' Gerta said.

Overhead, a red-tailed hawk creeled and dove through the crystalline mountain air. I considered skewering it with an arrow for being so cheerful, then turned around in my saddle to glare at Gerta. 'Are you implying that I'm getting soft?'

The hymnal merchant flinched, then kneed his donkey and trotted ahead of us around the next bend in the trail.

'I wouldn't do that, if I were you,' I called after him. 'This pass is dangerous. You never know when you're going to run into a bunch of low-down, dirty, skulking ban-'

'And just who are you calling `dirty' there, ducks?' a familiar male voice called down from the rocks above. 'Actually, I'm thinking the two of you could do with a bit of spit and polish your own selves.'

'Lomo, you skunk!' Corpsemaker's hooves clattered as I pulled her up.

'That's Lomo, King of the Bandits, to you,' he said haughtily.

I leaped out of the saddle, my sword Esmeralda in hand. 'I thought I split your thieving head open the last time you waylaid us!'

'That,' he said loftily from his unseen perch, 'was merely a clever ruse on my part.'

'Rats and eels, I hate it when they won't stay dead!' Gerta joined me, her sword at the ready, head craning to check out the odds. 'Hallah, you must be losing your touch.' She stared up at the rugged gray cliff above us and shaded her eyes against the sun. 'How many are there?'

A handful of small rocks cascaded down the cliff face and we lurched back, dangerously close to the edge of the sheer path. 'Too many,' I said, counting the visible tops of heads.

'Good!' As always, Gerta's blue eyes were joyously savage. 'There is less glory in a fair fight!'

'Yeah, yeah.' I tied up Corspemaker's reins and slapped her rump, urging the mare back the way we'd come. Gerta's gray gelding Slasher and the three pack donkeys followed. 'I'll sneak back and climb up that depression just before the last bend. You guard his prissiness. I think he's cowering over there in those rocks.'

'I'm not cowering!' Dal's voice rang out from around the turn. 'I'm praying!'

'Praying?' Lomo called down the cliff side. His voice quivered with eagerness. 'Is he a priest?'

'No!' I said crossly.

'But I have something to confess!'

'He's not a priest!' I reached for my bow.

He leaned closer to the edge and I could see his shock of dishevelled red hair decorated with pigeon feathers. 'Are you sure?'

Now bandits, being depraved brutes, are often keen on priests, and they're never the least particular about what kind. They like the odd bit of prayer, when they can get it, just in case it might tip the scales in their favor someday, and they're absolutely potty about confession. Like kings and politicians, they have this peculiar notion they can do anything they want, as long as they're real sorry afterwards. 'He's not a priest-he's just a stupid hymnal salesman!' I yelled back, trying to get a clear shot.

'Really?' Several more interested scruffy heads popped over the side of the cliff. 'Does he know `Nearer My Isis to Thee'?'

The merchant scurried back around the cliff on hands and knees, his face red as a throttled pig. I nudged his quivering body with my foot. 'Well?'

He shook his head so hard, his flabby neck skin wobbled back and forth.

'No,' I said, 'he doesn't, so you might as well come down and have your heads properly lopped off while the light is still good.'

'Yes!' Gerta chimed in with enthusiasm. 'What fun is shedding blood if we can't see it?'

'How about `Onward, Pagan Soldiers'?' a different voice asked. 'My mum used to sing that one over my cradle.'

I cocked an eyebrow at Dal. He looked uncertain.

'Can you hum a few bars?' Gerta asked.

'Damnation!' I said, completely out of patience. 'This isn't a sodding tea party, you know! Come down and fight!'

'Don't get huffy there, ducks,' Lomo called down amiably. 'I'll get around to killing you in a minute.'

'You wish!' Cocky bastard! Now I remembered why I'd split his head open the first time. I motioned to Gerta to guard Dal, then sheathed Esmeralda and ran back down the trail to a slope that looked climbable. I found a fingerhold in the gray granite, and then a toehold, and set to work.

'What about `The Old Rugged Rune'?' I heard Lomo ask. 'That's always a real crowd-pleaser.'

A few knobby roots protruded from the sheer cliff face here and there, and I used them when I could for handholds. My mail shirt strained across my chest as I climbed, so tight I couldn't get enough air.

Lomo's red-haired head appeared above me. He grinned. 'What's the matter, ducks? Having a spot of trouble?'