Demonworld (47 page)

They reached the docks. Tall-masted ships with folded sails bobbed sleepily, and many guards smoked and dozed in quiet groups.

“
Damn, these things look complicated,” Wodan said to Agmar.

“
Gonna get real complicated when Bilch realizes what’s happening,” said Agmar. “He was really keen on owning a soul. You should have seen him try to hide his excitement.”

“
He won’t find out what’s happening before it’s too late,” said Wodan.

“
To be honest, he probably will,” said Maxil. “Bilch is wicked smart. Once he realizes I’m gone and you’re gone, he’ll put it together. So we gotta move fast.”

“
What will he do?” said Wodan.

“
Probably spank me,” said Maxil.

“
Oh,” said Wodan.

“
And kill you after he tortures you.”

“
Gu-u-uh,” said Agmar.

Maxil dashed ahead and snapped his fingers at a group of guards. “Get up, crapheads,” he said. “Master wants
Hero
fitted. Get these horses on there.”

Several guards with shotguns and yellow armbands rose sulkily. “What fer?” said one.

The primitives stopped, their bodies tense, ready to run.

“
Whud fu-ur,” said Maxil, imitating the man. “How should I know? He’s drunk as hell and wants me to take these tribals out for a tour, I guess. What does it matter? What do you care?”

Some guards moved to one of the ships while others took the horses from Wodan and his friends. Rachek paced nervously and pretended all was normal. Brad puked noisily, and one guard bounded away to avoid the splash.

Wodan looked at the ship and his heart sank. He had been impressed by the other ships, complex contraptions of wood, rope, and steel - but it seemed as if the guards were loading the horses onto a large mound of driftwood garbage that was already in the process of sinking.

“
That’s the
Hero of Old
,” said Maxil, with mock pride. “Oldest and luckiest ship in Sunport.”

“
Lucky it ain’t sunk yet,” said Brad. “Why can’t we take that other thing instead?”

He pointed to a strange, flat ship, made of metal and rimmed with cannons and a long chimney.

“
That’s one of Bilch’s steamer ironclads, a battleship,” said Maxil. “He’d come after us for sure if we took that, or any of his better vessels. I’m just hoping he’ll write off the
Hero
and not worry about missing me or these old maps I stole.”

“
Not miss you?” said Agmar. “Because you’re not a good captain?”

“
I’m his
best
, old man,” said Maxil. “I’ve spent most of my life sailing. I just give him a lot of lip, is all, and he hates that. But...” Maxil twitched and scratched at his collar. “He is one mean prick, and after that mess at the Part he won’t be in the mood for excuses. Let’s just hurry.”

They boarded the ship while the guards finished preparations. The boards creaked under them. Vultures flew about the mast, and a sail like dirty underwear unfurled pathetically. The four horses screamed in the hold down below. Brad puked over the side.

“
Let’s hit it,” said Wodan.

“
On to high adventure, bitches!” screamed Maxil.

* * *

After a tense night of puking and following Maxil’s every command, the primitives woke the next day to find themselves in a strange and wonderful situation: They were free. The sky was sharp and blue with tall white clouds built one on top of another, and they floated in a calm, endless ocean where no one could find them. The horrors of the wasteland fell far, far behind them.

Ferge had given them plenty of food. They passed the days eating and joking and playing games and cleaning the ancient, rickety ship. It rained on the sea as it rarely did in the wasteland, but only small storms that never troubled their captain. They often watched the play of lightning on shadowy clouds hanging in the distance.

Alone on the open sea, it was hard to imagine that the rest of the world was not at peace. There were never any serious arguments among the crew. Wodan saw some tense negotiations for private sleeping areas, but these were easily worked out with a little thought and courtesy. What had gone wrong in the rest of the world? Humans had had so long to figure things out; they even had a common foe that they could unite behind. Why was the earth not yet a paradise?

Wodan preferred to sleep on the deck, directly under the stars, amongst a few others who enjoyed the same. He realized he had never appreciated the sight of them before.

We have so much left to do
, he often thought.
Even if we made the world a peaceful place, there are still so many challenges and so many mysteries to appreciate
.

Many times he woke in the middle of the night and saw Agmar sitting by the side of the ship, gazing into the distance with his strange book in his lap. Wodan was struck by how old the man appeared when he wasn’t arguing or butting heads with someone. In the light of the lamp that sometimes burned in the cabin, Agmar looked like an ancient prophet who’d seen his god in the throes of senility. Agmar was empty, sucked dry by the world, and then finally plucked free and sent on some final trip into a new world that he could not possibly imagine.

* * *

One morning Wodan woke and saw Brad and Rachek fishing off the side of the ship. He could smell coffee from the little cabin and hear people stirring inside. He rose from his hay mat and donned his blanket like a hooded cape. When he went to get his coffee, he was embarrassed because his friends deferred to him and would not let him prepare his own coffee.

He made his way to the fore of the deck. He saw Maxil sitting and staring ahead, reading the stars before they disappeared in the waking light.

“
I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” said Maxil, not taking his eyes from the stars. “Your people, your homeland… are you absolutely sure they won’t mind that I’m runaway goods?”

“
That’s not even an issue. You’ll be a person, same as any other. You work however you can, or you learn whatever you can.”

Maxil sighed, reluctant to believe that things could work out that easily. “And if someone came looking for me? Would your people give me back to keep the peace?”

“
Nobody will find us.”

“
If they did?”

“
My people wouldn’t give you back. You’d be one of us. Besides, you should see the firepower we have. Those thugs in the desert with their rusty pellet-guns and moth-eaten leather vests are
nothing
compared to our Guardians. Our forces are disciplined, healthy, and
sane
. They could incinerate Sunport from a mile away.
”

Maxil laughed, a strangely boyish gesture for one who acted like a tiny old man full of worries and calculations. Wodan was struck by the fact that so many adults were now completely dependent on the competency of a child. Going off the beaten path had taken them to a strange place, indeed.

“
Maxil, how did you get to be a captain, when you’re so young?”

“
I’ve always spent time on Bilch’s ships. I used to sneak away from him and stowaway right before a trading run. I’d hang out with the captain, the crew, and they liked me ’cause I was pretty quick, I’d say mean stuff that everyone thought was funny. I’ve been to Tulla… I’ve even been as far east as Kurgheim. The captains always watched out for me, because they knew there’d be trouble with Filius if something happened to me. That’s how I learned it all. Learned how to navigate using the stars, learned the secret of longitude, all the uses of a ship’s components, and how to not take any shit from any lazy bastards.”

Maxil bent to study something on the small table before him. In the warm, pale light from the cabin, Wodan could see several old maps, faded ink on yellowed paper crowded with detailed diagrams.

“
How can you make heads or tails of all that?” said Wodan, glancing from the detailed maps to the featureless sea.

“
It all makes perfect sense,” said Maxil. “Just takes time.”

Maxil tapped an island on the map, a wide place ringed with forbidding mountains. Wodan nodded. They had repeated this ritual many times.

“
People haven’t been this far north in years,” said Maxil. “All captains know the coast. They have to, to get slaves and goods back and forth between the towns. It’s the only way to travel that the demon doesn’t seem to mind. But we never venture too far out. Now, this little island, on this very, very old map…”

“
That has to be it,” said Wodan. “You’ll see how perfect it is. If anyone ever sailed near it, they wouldn’t be able to tell that the island was occupied. They wouldn’t have even bothered landing; there’s nothing of value to see but rock, hard rock, with no value or mercy.”

“
Sounds great,” said Maxil. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Wodan laughed and clapped the boy on the shoulder. He strolled to the front and sat on the very edge. The sun was rising in a beam of fire and the darkness rolled away.

I’ve come so far
, he thought.
Lost so many friends and come so far on a journey I never would have thought possible before
.

Then his heart darkened. He knew there was one thing left to do before his journey finally came to its end. He had avoided it until now, but there was not much time left. There was one terrible thing left to confront, and only he could do it.

Tonight
, he thought.
I’ll get it over with tonight
.

* * *

That night, the people opened up a few bottles of booze that Ferge had tucked away in their supplies. They danced with lit torches and sang the old songs of their peoples. Many of them ground up whatever they could find for pigment and applied the tribal colors that they had lost during their long trek through the wasteland. They no longer had their shamans or remembered all of the old rites, but the elders directed things as best they could. Soon Brad was covered in blue spirals and Rachek danced with yellow and orange lightning bolts down her arms.

Wodan danced with his friends, but did not drink. After a while he sat apart from his friends for a long time, then finally rose and left them. He went into the dark hold beneath the deck.

Agmar sat on an upturned bucket near one of the empty stalls. Wodan smiled as he approached and said, “Old man, why aren’t you at the party with the others?”

“
Well, I-”

It was as far as he got before Wodan was on him. Wodan gripped his arm and pushed him into the stall, knocking him off balance. Agmar pushed against him with one bony arm and clung to a low rafter with another. “Hey, now!” Agmar shouted. “What are you, queer or somethin’?”

Wodan’s mask of rage silenced him at once. In one motion Wodan jerked open Agmar’s robe and tore his shirt – revealing a mound of scar tissue in the shape of a circle with a line through the center.

Agmar leaned against the wall, gulping in panic, while Wodan studied the self-inflicted wound.

“
How?” Agmar whispered. “How did you know?”

Agmar looked into Wodan’s eyes. Cold, green, merciless diamonds. Agmar had seen traces of cruelty in the boy before. He knew that Wodan could do anything to him and no one would waste a tear for an old, worn-out Ugly.

“
How did you know?” Agmar repeated. “Did I counsel against rebelling one time too many? Did I know too many things about the Ugly? Was it when Jarl mentioned my family and I tried to cover it up, was that what gave it away? Was it because I took the book?”

“
Shut up,” Wodan said quietly. “You know that I could kill you, or have you killed by the others, and that scar would justify my actions in their eyes. And you know I could do it, too, old man.” Wodan’s face was immobile, a death-mask, terrifying in the darkness of the stall. Agmar choked back tears. “Answer my question. And if you give me anything but complete honesty – it’ll be your life. Understand?”

“
Okay, okay.”

“
Why? Why bother coming with us if you were one of them?”