Alaskan Fury (51 page)

Chapter
19: Return of Thunderbird

After a few tension-filled hours,
‘Aqrab had come to accept the fact that his magus probably wasn’t going to kill
him—at least not anytime soon—but he had also quickly come to realize that,
while she no longer wished him dead, she also still didn’t trust him.  He had
seen her think about finally making that last wish, even going so far as to ask
him what he would do if she
made
a wish, before she choked down her
words and went on to re-enter the cave and begin negotiations with the dragon
if she’d never spoken, leaving ‘Aqrab standing, crestfallen, in the snow.

It was much later before he could
bring himself to follow the Fury into the dragon’s lair, and when he did, he
found a quiet corner beside the entrance to sit down, considering his
predicament.  One wish.  She had everything she wanted, yet she still kept him
bound to her.  She hadn’t
killed
him, true, but she had stabbed his
heart in other ways.

The dragon, it seemed, was
bargaining for access to his hoard.  Some sort of sword.  ‘Aqrab barely heard
them.  He was sinking into a pit of his own despair, looking at his hands, wondering
how he could have been so stupid.  He had, finally and completely, given up his
last bargaining chip.  Now there was nothing standing between her sword and his
neck, should she ever be able to work out the details of her trade with the
dragon.

“…I would have one of your
feathers
and
the sword back, when you’re done with it,” the dragon
countered.

“My
feathers
?” she
snorted.  “How would you like that sword up your
ass
, dragon…”

‘Aqrab paid no attention to
them.  His role in all of this had been played, his deeds done, his opinion
moot.  He was now a pawn, waiting on the final bidding of a Fury.

Dawn came and went, and well into
noon, they were still arguing over the particulars of how
big
of a sword
she could have from the dragon’s hoard, on the condition of
not
embedding it through his cranium, when ‘Aqrab saw a huge black bird on the
horizon, shimmering with electric fire.

“Neekni,” he said under his
breath, reflexively getting to his feet.  “Neekni sahrawi.”

Still deep in their negotiations,
the two First Landers ignored him.

‘Aqrab watched as Thunderbird
landed on the mountainside a few hundred yards down from the cave, and looked
around, like he was still a bit lost.  Disoriented, probably. 
How
far
had he flown, in less than eight hours?

“I’m sorry about the wish!”
‘Aqrab called down to him, to break the ice.  “But in all honesty, it was your
own pride at fault.  You
were
goading him.”

The Thunderbird swiveled and
looked up at him, his head cocking.  He stood in the frozen crust of plant-life
that had been exposed from ‘Aqrab’s jaunt with the Fury the night before, and
when his eyes found the cave, he started stalking towards it, the frosted
mountain plants crunching under his moccasined footsteps as he progressed.

Seeing the deadly intent in
Thunderbird’s eyes, ‘Aqrab stumbled backwards into the cave.  “Ah, mon Dhi’b,
Thunderbird is outside, and he looks displeased.”  While
he
could jaunt
to the half-realm, his magus might be a bit more pressed into a fight, and, by
the look on Thunderbird’s face, it looked like a fight was exactly what the
demigod had come to get.

His magus ignored him.  “Look,
you petulant lizard,” she growled, “I am not a
hoarder
.  I do not have
mounds
of gold
to give you for a sword.”

“Then perhaps you could wish me
some, care of your djinni,” the serpent replied.  It was the thirtieth or so
time he’d mentioned using her final wish to boost his hoard.

“Mon Dhi’b!” ‘Aqrab snapped, as
Thunderbird stepped into the room.

“Oh, by all means, let them talk,”
Thunderbird said, casually seating himself in a corner.  He began picking at
the leftover food.  “I can kill them once they’re finished.”

The way the demigod said it made
‘Aqrab’s hair stand on end.  The weave of the words almost sounded…psychotic.  Had
the dragon’s wish pushed Thunderbird over the edge?  Was the prison of ice,
however brief, too much for the man’s sensitive ego to endure?  ‘Aqrab heard a
nervous sound from his own throat, which he followed with, “I would be happy to
tell you another story about unicorns while you wait, my liege.”  Thunderbird
was, after all, easily distracted.

Thunderbird hesitated in plucking
at an old congealed duck to frown at him.  “Why the fuck do you think I care
about unicorns?”  He sounded honestly curious.

“Ah,” ‘Aqrab babbled nervously,
struck by the disdain and violence in the demigod’s words.  He once again
glanced at his magus and the serpent, both of whom remained oblivious, locked
in an argument about exact sword values based on age and location of
manufacture and the current Gold Standard.  ‘Aqrab laughed nervously and
returned his attention to Thunderbird.  “Perhaps a recounting of the
Ballad
of the Unicorn’s Horn?
  Or would you rather a new song?  I have at least
five others that I can think of with unicorns in them.”

Thunderbird gave him a slow,
blood-curdling smile.  “I think I’ll take my time in cutting out your heart. 
Djinn
do
have hearts, don’t they?”

“Mon
Dhi’b
!” ‘Aqrab
shouted, utterly unnerved by the sheer malevolence in Thunderbird’s electric
eyes.  “We have a
guest
.”

Kaashifah made a disgusted sound
and turned from the dragon to glare at ‘Aqrab.  “
What
, djinni?”  As if
he were an irritating slave.

Biting down his retort—and his
urge to simply twist realms and leave his mistress and the serpent to deal with
the rain-god by themselves—‘Aqrab gestured at Thunderbird.

Immediately, Kaashifah’s eyes
darkened.  “How did you find us here?”

Something off about the imperiousness
of her words set ‘Aqrab’s instincts afire.  Even a
Fury
could not take a
demigod lightly.  Yet it had almost sounded as if his magus were talking to a
sylph or some other minor annoyance.

But the dragon was already
brushing past her, saying, “It’s okay.  He’s probably up visiting from
Kentucky.  How are you doing, Trellyn?”

…
Trellyn
?

And Thunderbird must have seen ‘Aqrab’s
confusion, because the sly smile that spread across the demigod’s face before
he turned to face the dragon left ‘Aqrab’s heart hammering liquid fire through
his veins.  “I’m well.”  Very casually, Thunderbird took a plum from the floor
and bit into it, not even inspecting it for dust.  Around a mouthful of
fruit—something that shocked ‘Aqrab in itself, because for all his rude quips, the
demigod seemed to take great pride in decorum—Thunderbird said, “So, what were
you two discussing in my absence?”

“The Fury is bargaining with me
on which weapon I will allow her to use to destroy the Christian cult,” the
dragon said.  “I favor the claymore, but she wants the Damascus you gave me.”

“Of course.”  Thunderbird smiled
and took another bite of the plum.  “Tell me, Fury.”  Again, he spoke around a
mouthful of fruit.  “How do you think to destroy the Order all by yourself?”

Something is wrong, here
,
‘Aqrab thought, the little hairs raising along the back of his neck.  Someone
was obviously being affected with mind-magics, but who?  Did Thunderbird even
possess
mind-magics?  That was a
fey
ability.

“She will have the help of her
sister,” the dragon said, oblivious.

Thunderbird’s dark eyebrows
raised.  “Oh
will
she.”  He almost seemed amused when he turned to look
at Kaashifah.  “What makes you say that?”

But Kaashifah frowned at
Thunderbird as if it were a gremlin asking the question.  “What is it to you,
twit?”

…
twit?

‘Aqrab cleared his throat.  In
the Old Tongue, he said, “Mon Dhi’b, mind-magics.”

“I can see that,” Kaashifah
snarled.  “I’m wondering what the little camel-fart wants.”

Thunderbird cocked his head at
Kaashifah, and for a second, his confidence seemed to waver.  Then, sniffing,
he said, “So why did they call you the Blade of Morning, anyway?”

“Because I was the only one left
standing on the battlefield, at dawn,” Kaashifah said.  “I can see through your
magics, fool.  Show yourself.”

But Thunderbird laughed.  “Oh, I
doubt that.”  He took another bite of the plum.  “So you fancy yourself good
with a sword, then?”

“The best,” Kaashifah said,
dismissively.  “Who are you and what do you want?”

Thunderbird’s electric eyes
sharpened over the plum.  “The
best
.”  It came out as a sneer.  “When
you haven’t
touched
one in three thousand years?  Are you really that
conceited?  You don’t think perhaps you’re just a bit rusty?”

‘Aqrab frowned.  What kind of fey
could know such as that?  His magus’s status hadn’t even been known to the
feylords.  Something was very wrong, here.  He started sidling closer to the dragon,
who stood much too close to the intruder for his comfort.

“There is no one on Earth who
could best me with a sword,” Kaashifah snapped, her pride once more overriding
her good sense. 

“No one on Earth, huh?”
Thunderbird laughed.  “Oh, I doubt that.”

Kaashifah narrowed her eyes.  “If
you don’t show yourself, worm, I shall prove it to you.”

“Who are you calling a
worm
?”
the dragon snarled, rounding on her.  “My uncle is an
ancient
…”

But beside him, Thunderbird
sighed and chuckled, getting to his feet.  “If you insist.  But first, I think
I’ll get rid of our distractions.”  And then Thunderbird was pulling a
sword
and turning toward the dragon.  Realizing the dragon—too blinded by the magics
to realize he was dealing with an intruder—was about to be run through, ‘Aqrab
threw his arms around the serpent’s neck and twisted them to the half-realm,
just as Thunderbird’s blade came down where Savaxian’s head had been.  The
intruder stumbled through them with a startled sound.

“I’m sorry,” ‘Aqrab babbled, even
as the dragon threw him aside and started to snarl.  “He was going to kill you.”

Then, beside him, the dragon gave
pause, seemingly seeing the sword for the first time.  “What is
wrong
with you, Trellyn?!” he cried, sounding hurt.

Thunderbird swung expertly at the
air a few times, then, when it was obvious the sword wasn’t going to touch either
of them, snarled and turned back on Kaashifah.

And Kaashifah, strangely, began
circling the demigod like a wary cat.  “Keep the serpent there, ‘Aqrab,” she
growled.  “I know who this is.”  She was reaching down, picking up a plate and
a bowl, and pushing her energy into them until they shone with radiant,
eye-burning white fire.

“A
plate
, sister?”
Thunderbird laughed at her.  “You, the fabled Blade of Morning, would stop me
with a
plate
?”  Thunderbird started cackling.  “Oh, I’m
so
gonna
enjoy adding your heart to my collection.”  And then, lazily, Thunderbird
touched the tip of his sword to the wall of the dragon’s cave as he circled
Kaashifah—and the sword sank through stone like warm butter, leaving a gaping
hole in its wake.

‘Aqrab backed away, recognizing
exactly what kind of creature could cause that eating of matter.

The dragon seemed to recognize
it, too, because he screamed, “You said your sister was going to
help
you, Fury!”

But how was a Fury using fey
magics?  It was the Second Landers who were the mind-benders, the ones who
wrapped themselves in spells that twisted your thoughts and told the
flesh-and-blood matter of your brain,
“You don’t see me, you see someone
else.”
  Their tricks, unlike those of the magi, dealt directly with the
failings of the flesh, and were thus imperceptible as magic.  It was an entire
school of magic based upon the simple fact that the brains of most sentient
creatures processed an amazing amount of information automatically, without
conscious thought.

Its weakness, however, was simple
concentration.  As the two circled, ‘Aqrab focused, forcing himself to distance
his awareness from the scene, to look at it with his
eyes
, instead of his
expectations
.  Immediately, like an optical illusion, the Fury popped
into focus, her glorious wings folded against her back, suddenly the source of
the eye-searing brightness shimmering across the cave walls that his mind had
dismissed before, as it had no apparent source.  She was dressed in black
Northlander pants and a simple short-sleeved green top with a naggingly
familiar turquoise belt cinched around her waist.  ‘Aqrab remembered seeing it
before, in his last moments inside the Sleeping Lady Lodge.