Clever, thought Relic. As a bat, he could see her.
Suddenly, the water buffalo went flying up through the canopy. The Whisper was apparently at least as strong as Infidel, and just as tough if she’d survived a blow like that. Seconds later, she staggered out of the brush, trailing vines. There was enough greenery enveloping her that you could make out her form. She paused a second to tear away the vegetation. She turned back toward Father Ver, only to find that Reeker had run out of the forest to stand between her and the priest.
He sucked in a lungful of air as she dropped the last of the vines. She stepped toward him, a sneer on her ruby lips. Reeker exhaled, a billowy greenish fog that rolled through the air before him, spreading quickly to cover the space where she stood. She was faintly visible as the miasma clung to her. A tendril of the cloud reached me and I quickly retreated. It stank like awful, eye-watering, fetid cheese, after it had been eaten, half-digested, and vomited back up.
Reeker stood with his hands on his hips, looking pleased with his work. His eyes widened as her hand thrust out of the cloud and she jerked his face close to her own.
“A good trick,” she said, “assuming I needed to breathe.”
The Whisper flung the skunk-man skyward. She stepped from the cloud, coated with pale green droplets of condensation like jade on her onyx skin. Her gaze lowered once more to the Truthspeaker, who by now had risen to his hands and knees. She stepped toward him, only to be intercepted by an iron ball at the end of a chain that caught her in the gut. She folded over, carried backward by the momentum of the blow. No-Face charged out of the brush to pounce on top of the Whisper as she hit the ground. Straddling her, he pounded her face with a chain-draped fist, striking sparks. He struck again, but she opened her jaws to reveal her diamond teeth. She bit down on his fist as he struck.
“Haurrg!” No-Face howled as he jerked his hand away. She’d bitten straight through the chain. His little finger and a fair chunk of the side of his hand were missing. She slapped him where his ear should have been, knocking him off her. He writhed as he clamped his good hand over his mangled fingers. Blood spurted between his knuckles.
The Whisper stood and chuckled as she looked at Father Ver. “Is that the best you have to defend you?” She stalked toward the Truthspeaker. “If you’d like, I’ll wait around and finish off the ogress and the knight as well, crushing your hopes one by one. You’re going to die, Truthspeaker. There is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”
“There is no need to wait,” Father Ver said, kneeling before her.
The Whisper raised both hands above her head, knitting her fingers together, then swung with all her might to bash in the priest’s skull.
Father Ver lifted his right hand and caught the blow, stopping it with no more effort than he might have spent to catch a drifting leaf. He looked at her with a look of utter calmness, and said, “I do not fear you. You are nothing but a dream, and your dreamer is dead.”
And then she wasn’t there. The stink mist that had clung to her hung in the air for a fraction of a second, then dispersed in the breeze.
A shadow grew on the ground as Lord Tower dropped from the sky, cradling Reeker in his arms. He landed with a clang, spinning around swiftly to survey the scene. No-Face still writhed on the ground. Father Ver was on his knees with a bloody nose and a placid look in his eyes.
“What attacked you?” Lord Tower asked.
“Nothing,” said Father Ver.
I could see Lord Tower’s eyes narrow through the slits in his faceplate. “This is a lot of damage for nothing.”
Father Ver nodded. “This nothing mistakenly believed it was something. We won’t be bothered further by it. We’ve lost both Blade and the Whisper, by the way.”
“What? How did… how…” He paused, sniffing the air. “By the sacred quill, what is this wretched odor?”
“The scent of victory,” said Father Ver. “Without the half-seed’s miasma clinging to her, I wouldn’t have seen the Whisper about to strike.”
“Wait,” said Tower. “The Whisper did this?”
Father Ver nodded. “It is good that we culled her out this early. Blade endangered us all with his reckless dabbling in dream magic. Our chances are improved without him.” There was no hint of remorse that he’d caused Blade’s death with his ill-thought command.
No-Face sat up, cradling his injured hand. “Yurga bunnah juh!”
“He’s right,” buzzed a hummingbird that hovered into the clearing. The bird flitted closer to Lord Tower, and suddenly Menagerie stood before the knight. The contrast between the two couldn’t have been more striking; the tattooed man in nothing but a loincloth facing the knight encased scalp to sole in spotless armor. “You came here with a team of six and you’re three down before we’ve even gotten close to the dragon. We’re professionals; we don’t like to work for amateurs.”
“That’s enough of your insolence,” growled Father Ver.
Menagerie opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
Lord Tower said, “Your concerns are noted, but matter little. I’ve taken a sacred vow to complete this mission. You are free to retreat if you wish, but I must carry on until the dragon is dead, or I am.”
Menagerie took a deep breath then said, in a respectful tone, “You have something better than a vow from us. You have a contract. We’ll continue on as long as you do.”
Tower looked up the slope. “I spotted a stream a short distance from here. We’ll make camp there while we continue to gather our gear and tend our wounded. If Blade is dead, we have a burial to perform. Tomorrow we’ll press on.”
“We’re right on the edge of forest-pygmy territory,” I said to Relic. “They’ll be out for blood after what the Whisper did to them. We should retreat back to the cave.”
We have nothing to fear, thought Relic. Even with these setbacks, we still have the power to kill any pygmy that dares to threaten us.
“You’re right. We’ll slaughter them when the come to drive us out, which they will. I’ve seen enough dead pygmies lately. Let’s retreat.”
I had no idea you were so tender-hearted, Blood-Ghost. Very well. Relic turned to Lord Tower he said, “I believe we are on the edge of forest-pygmy territory. It would be wise to go back to the cave. We can be assured of our safety there.”
Lord Tower shook his head. “We’ve paid dearly to cover even this small amount of ground. I won’t give up the progress we’ve made.”
Relic nodded. “As you wish.”
“Where is your War Doll?” Tower asked. “Have we lost her — I mean it — as well?”
I didn’t wait for Relic to answer. It struck me that Infidel should have been back by now. I tuned myself to the knife and mentally leaned in its direction, flying to it at the speed of thought.
I found myself once more upon the vine draped platform where I’d left her. She was surrounded by forest-pygmies, easily a hundred of them. To my relief, they weren’t fighting her. Instead, they were gathering up the dead. A dozen of them stood around Infidel, holding her at bay with pointy sticks. I knew that Infidel could have easily fought her way out of the situation, but instead she just stood there with her hands in the air.
“Look,” she explained, in a calm voice. “I didn’t do this. I’ve got no grudge against you. Just put down the sticks. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”
“Ugamadebasda!” the lead pygmy shouted. “Ugamadebasda!” Every forest-pygmy tribe had its own dialect; I could understand most east-slope pygmies, but these west-slope pygmies slurred all the syllables of a sentence together into a single word, which made it tricky to follow. Still, from the general tone I gathered he was saying, “Shut up and keep your hands up.”