Bastion of Darkness (25 page)

Twenty-two rangers pounded out of Avalon late that afternoon, riding hard to the west on Avalon steeds, in pursuit of Bryan of Corning, in the hunt against Thalasi.

In the quest to find Rhiannon.

“YOU WAKED DE
beast, you stupid bean growers!” the first of the dark-skinned tribesmen protested, and again, his kin poked Belexus hard.

In the blink of an eye, the ranger had the short man by the front of his dusty tunic, lifting him high off the ground.

“Easy, my friend,” Ardaz warned, seeing the others bristling, seeing their pickaxes gleaming.

“This man could break de rock,” the hoisted tribesman remarked, and he reached over and felt the ranger’s bulging biceps. “Could break de rock,” he said again with certainty.

“Or the dwarf,” Belexus warned.

“Don’t you be calling me dat, boss,” the tribesman replied.

“No need of this, oh no, no!” Ardaz put in, moving to the center of the group. “Ow!” the wizard added suddenly, a sharp pain sticking him in the butt. He turned about at once but found that none of the short men were anywhere close to him.

“Hey boss, you don’t piss her off, eh?” the first man said.

“Piss her off?” the wizard echoed, scratching his head.

“Caribbean,” Del said suddenly, his face brightening
with recognition. He looked to Ardaz. “Before the holocaust,” he explained. “The dialect, the black skin …”

“Lookin’ brown to me,” one of the tribesmen said dryly.

“Friends o’ yer Billy Shank?” Belexus asked, and that gave Del pause, for he had hardly considered Billy Shank since returning to this world, and he remembered now that Billy had once been his dearest friend.

“Ah, yes!” Ardaz roared suddenly. “Caribbean Sea! I do remember, I do daresay!”

“We don’t know you, boss,” one of the tribesmen said.

“And no Beely Shank,” another said.

“Billy Shank,” DelGiudice corrected. “A friend of mine, with skin the same color as yours—almost the same, but not quite as dark.”

“Hey, you don’t be talkin’ trash, boss,” yet another said and he moved close and poked at Del, and of course, his finger sank right into, right through, the specter. Trembling suddenly, the man backed away, eyes wide.

“Voodoo,” Del and his two companions heard someone say, and the respect shown them grew immensely in the next moment.

“Mamagoo not gonna like dat,” the first tribesman said.

“Mamagoo?” Ardaz and Del and Belexus asked together.

“Mamagoo de priestess,” the man said. “She ain’t gonna like that you know the voodoo. It will make it harder for her to kill you, you see. She ain’t gonna like no zombies walkin’ about her mountain.”

“Kill us?” Ardaz echoed. “Whatever for?”

“For waking de big worm,” the tribesman said. “You tink we want him out of his hole?”

“Dey tink we be stupid, then,” another said.

“Dey be stupid,” a third added. “For dey be dead before we be dead!”

“I’m already dead,” Del remarked, and that brought a unified “Ooo” from the throng, and indeed it now was a throng, more than sixty strong, all short and woolly haired, with dark skin, dark brown mostly, but some who seemed perfectly black in color.

“Well, the dragon’s gone back to its hole, if that is of any comfort,” Ardaz said, but again he ended with an “Ow!” as another stabbing pain got him in the rump.

“Oh, yeah. Mamagoo, she like that one,” one of the tribesmen laughed.

“She’ll be playing wit dat one before she kills him,” another said.

“Maybe bring him back in zombie to play some more, eh?” yet another laughed, and all joined in.

“Who are you?” Ardaz demanded, and he hopped and turned, looking suspiciously for anyone who might be trying to stick him with something small and painfully sharp.

“We be de Architect Tribe, boss,” the first man said. “Don’t you hear so good?”

“Your name, good sir,” the wizard insisted.

“Okin Balokey,” the man said.

“Unbelievable,” Del whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Do you realize what this means?” he asked the wizard. “The ancestors of these people must have come to Ynis Aielle right after the holocaust, and they have evolved a bastardized culture …”

“Hey, boss!” several yelled at once.

“Don’t you be calling names,” Okin Balokey said. “And I don’t care that you be dead!”

“No names,” Del said apologetically. “All I meant is that the culture you have evolved is so intriguing.” He looked to Ardaz, who was growing truly agitated, truly excited. The wizard had spent many years trying to prove that others had come to Ynis Aielle, that there had
been—perhaps still were—other cultures and other races in the wide world. And now his proof had walked right up to him—and had apparently stuck him in the butt … repeatedly!

“They speak with Caribbean dialect,” Del went on, “and have the dark skin, of course …”

“There he goes again,” one remarked.

“He cares too much about de skin,” another said.

“And yet, look at them!” Del cried. “They cannot average much over five feet.”

“Now he sayin’ we too short!” one exasperated tribesman cried.

Okin Balokey put a disgusted gaze over Del, hands on hips and shaking his head slowly.

“Not too short!” the ghost protested. “But you are, and you must admit, shorter than average.”

“We below average,” one man said with mock sadness.

“No!” Del said. “But I suspect that your ancestors were far taller, probably averaging close to six feet.”

“You tink we like bumping our heads on de ceilings of our tunnels, boss?” Okin Balokey asked.

“Exactly my point!” the ghost cried.

“Oh, simply marvelous!” Ardaz yelled, catching on and seeing the beauty of it all. “This is too precious, too grand!”

“Who be dat one?” The unfamiliar voice, a woman’s voice, came from behind the gathering. All eyes turned to see a large, older woman dressed in bright colors ambling about the stone, a pair of small dolls in hand, one of which looked remarkably like Ardaz, complete with white hair and blue robes, the other bearing some resemblance to Del, at least in the fact that it was dressed in white. In her other arm, to Ardaz’ complete relief, she held a familiar black cat, curled comfortably in the crook
of her elbow as if nothing in all the world could possibly be wrong.

“Oh, Des!” the happy wizard cried, rushing forward. The cat merely yawned and buried her face within her paws.

“Mamagoo?” Belexus asked Okin Balokey, who nodded.

“I be stickin’ dat one fordy-tree time,” Mamagoo complained in her accent, by far the thickest so far, and waving her doll-holding hand Del’s way. “And he not be even jumpin’! And my new kitty friend, she be adding a stick or two.”

“To both?” Ardaz, taking Des from the woman, asked.

“To yours, mostly,” Mamagoo explained. “Beastly loyal.”

“He be a ghost, Mamagoo,” Okin Balokey explained, indicating Del.

“Aah!” the large woman sighed in relief. “Priddy ghost he be, too. So very priddy.” She replaced the doll in a deep pocket and produced some herbs instead, and began waving them about in the air and singing softly.

Almost immediately Del felt a tug in his thoughts, a mental prodding that it took some effort for him to resist.

“Ardaz,” he warned as the wizard came back over to stand beside him.

“Weaving magic,” Ardaz reasoned with great surprise. “I do daresay.”

Belexus tossed aside the man he was holding and advanced a step toward Mamagoo, and when a host of men jumped in front of him, the determined and deadly ranger drew out his new, brilliant sword.

That set the gathering back on its heels, brought a tumult of gasps, and exclamations of “aah.”

“Where you be gettin’ dat?” a suddenly very agitated Mamagoo demanded.

The ranger looked to his friends, then all three turned and eyed the dragon’s mountain. “It is what we came for,” Belexus explained. “All that we came for. We’re wanting no trouble from yerselves, but know that we’ll not be slowed.”

“He talk funny,” one of the tribesmen remarked.

“Trouble, boss?” Okin Balokey said incredulously, waving for his companions, who were all tittering about Belexus’ strange accent, to be quiet. “You got de sword. De sword!”

“You know it?” Ardaz asked.

“We made it,” Okin Balokey replied.

“Ye canno’ have it back,” Belexus said at once, surprising his friends with his impatience and lack of tact.

“Oh, we don’t be wantin’ it back,” Okin Balokey replied happily, apparently taking no offense. “We just be glad that de worm got it no more!”

Rousing cheers went up all about the companions, then, and the three exchanged confused, relieved glances. Ardaz and Del let their gazes linger together, the pair sharing thoughts of how very strange this group truly was, and both wanting to spend more than a little time with Okin Balokey and Mamagoo.

“I knew it! I knew it!” Ardaz cried repeatedly, pacing across the little warm and comfortable chamber the Architects had prepared for them, far underground—though all three suspected that they had only brushed the highest level of a huge tunnel system. “We could not have been alone, no, no. Makes no sense, after all! The world was a bigger place before
e-Belvin Fehte
, yes, much bigger, with millions of people.”

“Billions,” Del corrected, and he gave a curious look
after he made the remark, for it, like so many, had come to him from far, far away, from a place he didn’t consciously access.

“I knew there were others,” Ardaz rambled on. “But I was looking for them in the wrong places—in the east, where the land is more hospitable. And here they were all the time, not so far away at all! I knew other boats made the shores of Ynis Aielle when the new world was young, and oh, the people survived.”

“Without the help of the Colonnae,” Del remarked.

Ardaz wagged his head, but in truth, he wasn’t so certain of that. “They have magic,” he reasoned, rubbing his still-sore rump. “Thus the Colonnae must have visited them, or at least have visited Mamagoo or her predecessors. But still, to have survived in the great Crystals! So close to us, and yet, unknown to us!”

“But you not be unknown to us, man,” Mamagoo’s voice came as she walked into the chamber. “We been watchin’ you dese years. You and dem skinny folk with dem pointy ears.”

“Then why not come and speak with us?” the wizard asked.

“We tried dat once,” Mamagoo said with a visible shudder. “When dem gargoyles come to de mountains. Ooh, but dey whack at us, I tell you boss!”

“Gargoyles?” Del asked.

“Big ugly ones,” Mamagoo explained, and she twisted her face in a manner to make it appear all too familiar to the three.

“Talons,” Belexus reasoned grimly.

“Dat’s why we made de sword, and udder swords,” Mamagoo explained. “But dat one, ooh, she be de best o’ de bunch!” She eyed the weapon as she spoke, moving right next to Belexus. “You know her name?” she asked solemnly.

The ranger shrugged and shook his head.

“Her name be Pouilla Camby,” Mamagoo said.

“A strange name for a sword,” Ardaz remarked.

“Pouilla be killed by de gargoyles,” Mamagoo explained. “Of course, dis all before I be born, before my mama’s mama’s mama be born.” She finished with a wink at the wizard.

“Of course,” Ardaz agreed, and he wasn’t sure what the private joke might be. It struck him then that Mamagoo might not be leveling with the others. Perhaps she, like Ardaz and his sister, like Istaahl and Thalasi, had indeed been touched, been blessed with long years, by the Colonnae, and had been alive all those decades, centuries even. More questions, the wizard thought, growing truly impatient. He would have to return here when the messy business with Thalasi was finished. Oh yes he would!

“So we make de sword and call her Pouilla,” Mamagoo continued, “and she go and do de bad tings to dem gargoyles!”

Belexus looked from the old woman to the beautiful sword.

“You not likin’ de name?” Mamagoo asked, seeing his less-than-bright expression.

Again, Belexus only shrugged.

“Den you just call her by any name dat you be pickin’,” Mamagoo offered, patting the huge man’s rump.

“Cajun,” Del said suddenly, drawing stares from all three.

“Cajun,” he repeated, smirking and looking at Ardaz.

“Oh, ho!” the wizard burst out suddenly. “Cajun. Oh jolly, how very jolly!”

Mamagoo and Belexus looked at each other, the large woman running her index finger in a circle about her ear.

“Cajun because it’s sharp!” the wizard roared. “Like the food; I remember the food!”

“I will find a name,” Belexus said dryly, reverently, to Mamagoo. He offered a glare to Del and Ardaz as he finished. “An appropriate name.”

“Dat you do,” the woman replied. Then, looking sidelong at the other two and shaking her large head—but smiling as she did—she left the chamber.

Much later that night, Ardaz stirred from a restless sleep. He left his companions snoring contentedly and slipped out of the chamber—to find the “guards” both snoozing comfortably—and picked his way down the dry and smooth tunnel. Voices soon drew him to a side room, and peeking in through the partly opened door, he found Mamagoo, Okin Balokey, and a third person, a younger woman he did not know, sitting in chairs about a blazing hearth, their backs to him.