Mike Wild - Engines of the Apocalypse

Freel's grip tightened about the stock of his whip but he made no move.

"Face it, Jakub. Jenna became a puppet. The Faith's puppet. Your puppet."

Freel roared, raced at him, and the archer was winded as the enforcer piled into his stomach and threw the two of them back over the floating stones.

Slowhand found himself with his head only yards from the pillar of souls, but his greater concern was Freel's hands, slowly tightening about his throat. For a second the two men stared at each other, faces red and taut with strain, before Slowhand found enough strength to growl, "Is this it, then? Where you kill me?"

"Kill you?"

"Like on the train? What stopped you, Freel? That DeZantez would be a witness? Or was it just what it felt like — some kind of warning, a game?"

"What the hells are you talking about?"

"The shove in the back? The almost but not quite death on the tracks? The whip?"

Freel's eyes flickered over him, as if suddenly shocked to find someone in such a helpless position beneath him and he snatched his hands away. He rolled onto his back and snorted. "I guess working together finally got to us both. I wasn't trying to kill you, you fool! That cable you cut came lashing back, almost cut you in half. I was pushing you out of the way."

"Bullshit."

"Why on Twilight would I want to kill you? I helped save you from Fitch, remember? Even went so far as to steer him away, told him you were mine."

"And just why would you do that?"

Fitch laughed, rough and guttural.

"Has it ever occurred to you that we are, in fact, brothers-in-law, you and I? That out of all the people on this godsforsaken world we are the only ones with something unique in common? Someone we loved?"

"Jenna," Slowhand said. "No… no, it hadn't." He shifted uneasily. "Even so, I find it hard to believe that an agent of the Final Faith would let family get in the way of removing a thorn in their side."

Freel paused. "Let me ask you something. Were you to work in a tavern, would that make you a drunk? If you yanked teeth for a living, would you necessarily like causing pain?"

"I've known a few in both cases. What's your point?"

"Simply put? That the job doesn't always make the man."

"You work for the Filth. You're their chief enforcer, for fark's sake. I'd say that was more vocation than job, Jakub."

"So much so that I almost never pray."

"Come on. I'd have thought that was mandatory."

Freel shrugged. "Abstinence is a privilege of the position."

"Wait a minute," Slowhand said. "Are you telling me that while you're an agent of the Faith, you're not of the Faith?"

"What can I say? I prefer a choice of Gods myself."

Slowhand blew out a breath. "Oh, this day is just full of surprises. Then why , Freel? Why do what you do?"

"Let's just say that certain… factions in Allantia have growing concerns about the Faith's ultimate mission here on the mainland, because Allantia is not so very far away. And that the demise of Konstantin Munch provided them with an opportunity to place one of their own in a position of some seniority — and perhaps influence, if and when needed. Thank you for creating the vacancy, by the way."

"You're a spy."

"More of an observer."

Slowhand said nothing for a second.

"Jenna. Did she know?" He asked at last.

Freel shook his head. "I couldn't take the chance that she'd reveal what she knew under Fitch's influence. But I like to think that the man she fell in love with was the real me."

"I always thought…"

"What? That our marriage was a forced one? Decreed by Makennon and orchestrated by Fitch? No, Slowhand, we loved each other. And she, in turn, loved you and me both."

"Then why in the hells didn't you get her out of there?"

Freel smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "I had been making plans for her removal after the Drakengrats. A disappearance — a convenient death — during a mission arranged by me. She would have been free."

Slowhand looked up at the enforcer.

"Gods, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You did what you had to."

Finally, Slowhand heaved himself to his feet. "The tension of these last few days. From you. It struck me as pretty genuine."

"Oh, it was. I didn't know you, archer — as you didn't know me — but I knew your reputation. Since then I've learned more about the man you are. I needed to be sure that this, all of it, including Jenna's death, was more than a game to you."

"Oh, it's no game," Slowhand said. "Not any more."

Freel regarded him steadily. "So… what say we get on with it?"

"What say we do."

Slowhand held out a hand, and the enforcer took it.

"Tell me one thing," Slowhand said. "Why since your first question to me have I been unable to keep my mouth shut?"

"Ah, that," Freel said. He ran his hand down his squallcoat. "This whole thing is stitched together with mumbleweed."

"Mumbleweed?"

Freel leaned in almost conspiratorially. "I'd have thought you'd have come across it in your travels. It relaxes people's inhibitions. Very handy when you're a spy."

The two men turned, distracted by a noise from the forest. They leapt from the stones and returned to the roof's edge. Something big was approaching through the trees, and approaching fast, and it made even the temple roof pound like a drum skin beneath their feet.

Freel looked at Slowhand.

Slowhand looked at Freel.

The two men turned and ran, almost falling over themselves in their efforts to shield the other and push him away, and they cried out in unison.

" Ohhhhhh, shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit…"

Kali grunted, pushing her boot against the tree trunk as she pulled the vine taut and knotted it in place. It was the fourth time she had carried out such an operation, and the fourth time she wondered just what it was she was getting herself into. As usual, she decided her plan didn't bear too much thinking about.

She slapped the vine to test its tension, and dropped from the tree and moved on. More coils of the stuff were slung over her shoulders, and they would all be used. For once in her life she didn't resent the number of times she had needed to bail Red, her adoptive father, out of trouble — both financial and physical — now that the time she had spent with the old poacher was at last coming in useful. He had a way with traps, did old Red.

Kali ducked as a flock of shrikes burst from the thick branches above, but ignored them. The wildlife had returned to the forest since she, Slowhand and Freel had reached the necropolis, which was an added complication, but she frankly didn't have the time to be bothered with it. It had taken some effort to renegotiate the thorn barrier. If she had to hide every time she had a close encounter with the forest's denizens the Pale Lord's plan would be done and dusted before she got anywhere. Even so, she wasn't stupid, and had taken added precautions to conceal herself from the creatures around her. Having decided that floprat render alone might not be enough to confuse predators' senses, she had trapped and butchered a yazuk, stripping the flesh from the creature and draping it about her like a cloak.

It stank to the pits but, once more, thank you Red.

Amidst the noises and movement of the forest were the sudden, horrified screams of soldiers and mages who had survived the juggennath assault. She had no time for them either, but each time she heard them she closed her eyes and bit her lip. They may have been why she had made it so far without being attacked but she could not be grateful for them. There was nothing she could for them other than to will them not to run, to panic, to stay still, to pray , but she knew, ultimately, it would do no good. If she were in their place in this godsforsaken hellshole wouldn't she do the same?