Demon Lord 3: Blue Star Priestess (25 page)

I gasped for air.  Another wave rolled in and gushed past me, only to leave again.  Hearing a voice undulating in song, I forced myself to my feet and staggered inland.  I still had the Beretta in my hoodie pocket.  It swung out and back against me with every step.  The weight was reassuring.  What was unsettling was the fact there was no tight weight around my torso.  My Kevlar vest had not made the journey with me.  Losing the protection pissed me off.  The Kevlar might not be something I could easily replace here; probably why it was taken, part of stacking the deck against me.

I climbed a bank that bristled with a yellow-gray kind of grass.  From the top of the little dune, I looked down into a gully where a fishing boat lay turned onto its side.  A fisherman was there, mending holes in a piled up net.  There was a fire near him with several fish being grilled.  The fisherman looked up at me.  The song left his lips. 

His skin was light blue.  He was no one I’d ever seen, but I knew his race:
Atlantean demon
.  I had a very unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach.  The door that had been opened for me was a door through time.  I knew with cruel certainty that if I went deeper inland, I was going to find Atlantis herself, and more answers than I could probably live with.

So, how long do I have before the island is destroyed?

TWENTY-
FIVE

“Why am I always ground-zero

  as all hell breaks loose?”

                                       —Caine Deathwalker

I walked over to the fire and looked down on the fisherman.  I knew the machine pistol wouldn’t be familiar, but he didn’t seem concerned by the sword in my hand either.  His nimble blue fingers danced, knotting in fresh pieces of twine to mend his net.  He was killing time, waiting for his parrot fish to cook.  He wore a floppy hat woven from the wild grass along the shore.  The hat kept the noonday glare out of his face.  Unlike the Old Man, this demon’s skin was almost bare; no burn-scar images or tattoos except for a leaping dolphin on his left arm.  He wore a white linen loincloth, sandals, and had netting cord around his neck, holding a centerpiece: a key-hole sand dollar with the white skeleton copper-brushed and tarnish green. 

He touched the necklace and spoke ancient Greek, but there was a ripple in the air between us and the words became English: “The sea’s dealt kindly with you; you’re alive.  Sit, dry yourself, and join me for lunch.” 

I smiled. 
Great, a universal translator.  Everybody should have one. 

Fresh from the sea with outlandish clothing on, he easily had me pegged as a stranger to these parts.  I was just glad the natives were friendly.   I stuck the demon sword point first into the sand, giving the blade a stern command to stay there and not wander off on me.  Using the strap, I hung my machine pistol from the hilt of the sword.  Mental note: get ahold of some cleaning supplies and fish oil so I can clean my weapons. 

There were a couple two-foot rocks near the fire, seats for visitors.  I saw a broken piece of a boom lying nearby.  I brought it to the boulders and laid it across them to form a bench.  In moments, I stripped off my hoodie and tee-shirt, draping them on the bench to dry.  I set my steel-toed boots near the fire, and peeled off my wet socks.  The socks and my pants went on the bench as well.  That left me in soggy underwear. 

I left them on out of respect for my host; I didn’t want to shame him by a comparison with whatever lay under his loincloth.  I might be small by human standards, but in this one area, Nature had blessed like a crack-whore with no common sense.  Or maybe it was a result of my dragon blood.

I sat at the end of the bench closest to the fisherman.  Once I was settled, he touched his necklace again.  That brought another distortion to the air between us.  He said, “I am Evzen, a humble fisherman.”  He lifted an inquiring brow.

Thinking of Conan the barbarian, I said, “I am Caine the Destroyer, mightiest warrior the world has ever known.” 

“You are certainly colorful.  The markings on your body seem those a wizard might have.”

“Okay, the mightiest wizard-warrior the world has ever known.”

He nodded.  “But perhaps a little clumsy, falling off one of the trade ships that visits our port.”

“I had help with the falling, but in time, I will settle matters.  So, this is Atlantis, right?”

“This is the beach.  The city of Atlantis is half a mile down the coast.  I suggest you eat, sleep through the heat of day, and head out as Helius drives his chariot toward home.”

Yeah, Greek god of the sun; lives beyond the sunset.  I get it; probably a lot of places along the Mediterranean and Aegean Sea that close down at midday, doing most of their business in the cool evening.

   The sun was fierce, already drying my skin.  The smell of the parrot fish stirred my hunger.  I watched them like a starving wolf.  Without looking away, I said, “So what’s the news around these parts?”

He paused so long, I wasn’t sure he was going to answer at all, and then he did.  “Times are as they’ve always been.  Taxes are a curse, but a man can make a living.  The City Guard takes a hard look at strangers, but don’t seem to walk the night as confidently as they once did.  There are … disappearances recently.  Fear haunts the night shadows, or so I’ve heard.”

“And the House of Lauphram?”

“The young king tries too hard to be liked.  And that new queen of his…  Perhaps I go too far.  It is not my place to question where his heart, and head, take him.”

Young king?  The Old Man?  I just can’t think of him as being young, with some chick leading him around by the cock. 

“It’s harder for you humans than us demons,” he said.  “One of our blood holds the throne.  The king has given much freedom to those who came unbidden to our island, still, there are demons that remember when humans were held in chains as property of their betters.  Some whisper…”

He fell silent.  I turned to watch him put aside his net.  He turned back to the fire, his stare lost in the leaping flames.

“Whisper what?” I asked.

He looked at me with a weak smile, shrugging apologetically.  “Some whisper that those times should come again.”   He reached out and pulled the fish off the fire, holding them by the end of their sticks.  He held one out to me.

I took it.  “Thanks.”  I carefully nibbled, blowing on the cooked flesh, trying not to burn my mouth and fingers.  Evzen fell silent, working on his own meal.  He’d given me a lot to think about: I sensed a connection between the new queen, a whisper campaign against humans, and these disappearances.  After disposing of my fish and tossing the stick into the fire, I looked at

Evzen.  “Tell me, these missing people, were they human or demon?”

He didn’t look from the fire, not wanting to meet my eyes.  “Human.”

Somehow I knew he was going to say that.

Evzen had a nearby shack with fish oil lamps.  I played upon his kindness for what I needed to clean my guns while sitting in the shade of several palms.  The job took some time as my host retired to his bed.  A stranger in a strange land, I stayed awake.  I never like to sleep where anything can happen.  There are locked doors for a reason.  I checked my clothing several times, added a little wood to the fire on one trip, leaving my underwear to dry on a rock close to the fire.  As soon as everything dried out, I dressed and carried the guns and demon sword back to the shade of the palms. 

I didn’t want to send the sword off.  I wasn’t sure it could get back to a treasure room in the future, or getting there, would come back to my hand if called. 
Better not to test the situation
. 

Feed me!
The sword demanded. 
I need souls!

“A lot of souls are going to be up for grab soon, more than you’ve ever had.”

The waves of hunger rolling off the blade slacked off. 
What do you mean?

“This is the island of Atlantis.  I have a very bad feeling it’s going to sink soon.”

Really?
  The sword’s thought seemed especially happy.  
I’ll look forward to that.  Meanwhile, can we at least kill the fisherman?  He’s snoring rather loudly.  Such thing should be punished.

“If I left it to you, everyone in the world would be sentenced to death.”

So what’s your point?

“Shut up.  I’m trying to think.”

Well, excuse me.

I watched the shadows around me lengthen.  The heat of the day slacked off.  Eventually, the sun slid toward the water, changing from gold to red.  The sky turned bluer.  A wind kicked up.  I stood, arming myself as Evzen emerged from his hut. 

“Leaving?” he asked.

“Yeah, got places to go, things to do.”  I found a clip in my pants pocket.  It was loaded with silver bullets in case a rogue werewolf turned up while I was about my business.  I removed two bullets from the clip and held them out toward Evzen.

He came over and took them from my hand, staring at them curiously.  “Silver?”

“Yeah.”  I pointed at the end where the gunpowder was stored and explained that he’d need to remove the charge before melting the silver down or letting someone else do it.

He looked at me with questions in his eyes.  “These pieces of silver are some kind of weapon?” 

“Part of
this
weapon.”  I held up my Beretta, sighted along the barrel, and shot a date off a nearby fruit tree.  The date disintegrated.  “Dates everywhere fear me,” I said. 

He looked at the tree and answered in a monotone, “I can see that.”

“Anyway, keep the silver.  You’ve helped me out.”  I had no fear this would cause a change in the time stream.  Even in my time, the remains of Atlantis were still being searched for.

He closed his fingers around the silver.  His other hand came up, a closed fist.  That fist opened and a saw a second necklace that matched the one he wore.  “Here, you’ll need this.  Not everyone you meet will have one of these so you had best carry your own.”

“Thanks.”  I took the sand dollar necklace and dropped its cord over my head.  It was no red pearl, but would still come in handy.  “I’ll be leaving now.”

“
Fortune favor you.”

“Let’s hope so.  One last thing, I’m leaving my sword stuck in the ground here.  It’s a cursed blade only I can safely use.  Anyone else touches it and they’ll die an ugly, hard death.”

“Are you sure you want to leave such a fine sword behind?”

“Yeah, it will save me from having to carry the damned thing, but knowing me, I’ll get into trouble soon enough and call it to my hand.  Don’t be surprised if it just vanishes into thin air.”

“Wizards and their toys,” he grumbled.  “I shall stay well away from your sword and pray it leaves quietly by morning.” 

I headed down the beach.  The shifting sand gave my calves a good workout.  Before the city came into view, I was glad it was only a half mile away.  There were stone walls, bleached white by years of sunlight.  Above the
m, a jumble of white stucco buildings reared.  The rest of the city flowed up a hill to where a palace stood triumphant, green glass domes on towers around a central mass that sported ornate columns.  In the other direction, the city ended where stone piers blocked the sea.  Wooden peninsulas jutted out across the water, making a home for numerous ships, large and small. 

Between me and the piers was a large open gate in the wall.  Two guards in armor with spears were stationed there.  They studied me as I walked up to them, my hoodie thrown back from my head, my machine pistol hanging at my side—more of a threat than they knew.

“Hold,” one of them said.  “Who are you and what is your business?”

“I am Caine, a soldier that fell off a Poseidon-cursed ship.  I was washed ashore not far from here.  A fisherman pointed me this way.”

The other guard said, “Well, your luck’s not all bad.  What is that thing you are carrying?”  He pointed at the machine pistol. 

“A gift from Hephaestus,” I lied.  Hephaestus was god of fire and the forge, the weapon-maker of the gods.  I was trying to suggest that I had a powerful patron
in the local pantheon.  “One night, I dragged him away from his forge for a few drinks, and I got him laid.  He was very grateful.”

“Doesn’t look much like a weapon,” the first guard said, “though I guess you can always beat someone over the head with it.”  He waved me on by.  “Go on in.  Just be aware that there is a curfew.  Humans and demons alike need to be off the street by the time the mid-night watch changes shift.”

“I’ll bare that in mind.”  I went in past them where I could see architecture a lot better.  I half expected a wondrous city like Oz or something: crystal towers, an air of ancient magic, signs of lost technology.  This was any Greek city of the ancient world.  The streets were narrow, used more for foot traffic and small wagons than troops and chariots.  The only thing unusual was the open mix of demons and humans.  They moved freely past each other without much tension, though the demons were better dressed and were taller than the humans, many of whom were shorter than me.  For the most part, the demons acted like they couldn’t even see the humans scurrying out of their way.

I was supposed to be a visiting human.  I made a mental note
not
to act as if demons were common place.  Continuing through the warehouse district, I made a point of gawking—as the residents might expect—and watched out for pickpockets.  Eventually, I came to an Inn with a squid-shaped sign over the door.  A blue squid.  Probably the name of the place.  A light crowd sat inside at tables and at the bar.  Tin cups were in evidence.  A few of the patrons were attacking tin plates heaped with what smelled like lamb stew.

I took a table and wondered what I was going to do about money.  If I kept giving my silver bullets away, I’d be out in no time.  My weird clothing kept drawing stares from the crowd.  After a few minute of waiting for a waitress to come over, one of the demon patrons stood.  He strolled over and stared down at me.  His skin was a sun-darkened blue, bearing several magic symbols that had been burned in with a hot poker.  The toga he wore was fine linen, dyed a bright emerald.  His thinning hair was dark indigo, probably
not
dyed.