​​​​25 Caught Rotten

‘YOU GROLG-SKULLED, Grim-blinded, dick-eyed ignoramus!’ Lorn looked the worse for wear, bleeding, bruised, and half-naked. Threadfin stood off to one side, telling himself he did not want to get closer to the ghouls.

She didn’t see him, her fury focused on Roper. Despite her arm and face bloodied, and the weariness in her stance, she was the same. Belligerent, rebellious. There had to be a way to get her away from Roper.

‘We will have your injuries seen to,’ said her captor, examining the festering wound on her cheek. ‘Don’t worry. We have a cure for ghoul-phage. No harm will come to you. I want to talk, that is all. Surely, we can be civilised.’

Lorn attempted to get closer, no doubt to bite his nose off. The ghouls on either side, jaws wide, held her in position.

‘You perverted, piece of grolg dung!’ She still hadn’t noticed the mage. I’ll wait until she calms down a bit. He took a few steps into the background. ‘Where in the name of the Spectrum above did you get ghouls anyway?’ she snapped.

‘Yes, well,’ said Roper, looking uncomfortable. ‘I suppose we can dispense with them.’ He gestured at the creatures and spoke in a language unknown to Threadfin. Roper was full of surprises. Where had he gotten them, never mind the knowledge to control them? Manic and Mania, yes it had to be. The ghouls closed their jaws and retreated. The kobolds took over as guards, two of them gripping Lorn by the arms. A third bound her wrists with thick hair rope.

‘You have something I need.’ Roper stalked around her, outside of biting range.

‘Answer’s same as before,’ Lorn snapped. ‘Go take a flying—’

‘We will speak again when you are in a better frame of mind.’ He nodded to the men to take her away, but not before a well-aimed glob of spittle struck his face.

They dragged her to a large tent, and she looked back with a glare all for Threadfin Todder. Oh, he thought, I guess she did see me after all.

On learning of her capture, Roper had been unwilling to wait. With a hundred of his kobolds, they’d vacated the city of Molt to meet the ghoul-handlers halfway. A day and a night’s trek, and the kobolds had carried everything on their backs. Hard-working lot, he had to admit. On the cracked mud of what might once have been a lake bed, they’d erected hide tents, stationing guards. Out had popped cook fires and copper kettles.

Roper was wiping his face with a dirty rag, as he walked up to him. ‘It’s not on her. Find out where it is, use it as I instruct, and you both go free. Those are my terms.’

Threadfin nodded. ‘And you’ll hold to your end.’

‘I’ve never played you false, Todder. Can you say the same?’

He gave Roper a long look. ‘I already told you it wasn’t my fault. Well, I mean it was, but I never meant it to happen. We were friends, Roper.’

‘None of it matters, now.’

Oh? thought Threadfin. Well then, what are we doing here? ‘Ghoul-phage is highly infectious. There was never a cure. Even during the purges, killing them took precedence over ... others.’

‘And you would know, I suppose.’

‘I read about it.’ On second thoughts, it didn’t sound convincing. It had been an informative book with illustrations. You could tell a lot from pictures.

‘Your imperium, you, and your sister. None of it matters. I want my life back, Todder. Otherwise, I will make your world weep.’

‘It’s your world too, you know.’

Roper turned and walked away. What gave the man’s words impact was he hadn’t sounded angry. He had become a dangerous adversary, and Threadfin realised he didn’t know him at all. The bald creature hidden beneath wasn’t coincidence. Whatever he had been as a human, Threadfin believed it was gone. The creature he’d become was something else. Oh, it had Roper’s memories, but it wasn’t his old friend behind those eyes.

I guess he did die, after all.

‡

‘WHERE IS IT?’ DEMANDED Weedy. She’d removed her metallic face mask to reveal a bald head, fangs, and pale-orbed eyes. ‘We don’t care about you. Tell us, and when we have it, you can go.’ The interrogator shoved her diseased face into Lorn’s. ‘You won’t get a better offer.’

Weedy was one of Roper’s most trusted, but disease riddled the withered face of the kobold. Her left orb drooped, pieces of her nose and right cheek missing, exposing muscle. They were all sick. Whatever the affliction was, it was devouring them. Was it ghoul phage? Had Roper lied about a cure?

Lorn didn’t answer the questions, but turned her head to regard the mage. They’d tied her hands around a pole where she could lower herself to sit, or stand as she did now. The tent wasn’t big, with no furniture but for a wooden chest on which Threadfin sat. ‘Why did you follow me here, undeader?’ she asked. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’

‘Don’t look to him,’ Weedy snapped with a glare for the viral. ‘I’m doing the asking. Tell us what you did with it. Where’d you hide it?’ The kobold’s one good eye was blackening and the mask looked dented. Lorn didn’t take being searched with good grace. To the kobold’s credit, she hadn’t retaliated, although her eyes blazed.

‘You’ve made a mistake,’ Lorn said to Threadfin, ignoring Weedy, who was all but frothing at this point. ‘You need to go home. Forget me.’

‘We both know I won’t. I had to find you. I needed to know.’ He paused for a moment, gathering himself. He’d come a long way to ask this question. ‘Why?’

Instead, Lorn turned her head to look at her interrogator. ‘If your leader wishes me questioned, let him do the asking. I don’t answer to lackeys.’ Weedy’s face turned a nice shade of purple, a vein throbbing in her damaged forehead. She took a step closer to the prisoner.

‘Enough,’ commanded Roper, entering the tent. He stepped right up to Lorn. ‘Will you tell me where it is?’

She turned her head away.

‘Why will you not let me save my people? I think you know what has happened to them, don’t you? Is it such a terrible thing for me to ask?’

So, thought Threadfin, he wants to save the kobold too, but will it end there? Would he give up such power, having held it in his hands? Would I?

She did look at Roper then, and her face was one of genuine pain. ‘It’s not that simple. It never is.’

‘You will reveal the location. I will do what I have to to get it from you.’ As he turned to leave, he spoke over his shoulder, ‘I was honest when I said I had no desire to harm you. However, I will do what I must. It may destroy who I am, but it is too late already, I think.’ He glanced at Threadfin, his eyes ordering the mage to follow.

Outside, they walked some distance away. ‘You’ve had three hours with her,’ said Roper. ‘Will she give it up?’

‘You’re kidding right? She hasn’t spoken but a handful of words, and how could she? She’s had your interrogator in her face the whole time. Leave me alone with her.’

‘I don’t know what your part in this is. I assume you also came here for it. You had better get it.’

‘She’s right, it’s not simple,’ said Threadfin. ‘Rope, I know most of the kobold are trapped in some form of prison. In the Styx, am I right?’

Roper hesitated, nodded.

‘Some are here with you,’ Threadfin continued, ‘but they’re sick, dying. I realise you want to save them. What you need to accept is, there’s more to all this than you know. Existence itself is at stake. We cannot risk millions of worlds for one person, or for one people.’

The man’s shoulders slumped. He appeared haggard, older than his years, or perhaps it was the illusion.

‘I will talk to her,’ Threadfin said, ‘but I cannot guarantee quick results. You understand, don’t you? This will take time.’

Roper looked at him, weariness gone. The human visage melted, and the kobold’s white orbs turned cold and hard. ‘You have two days. Nothing has changed. Afterwards, we return to Molt, and there we will use other methods.’ He stalked through the camp.

Threadfin was about to return to the prisoner tent, when someone stepped out of another close by. The masked figure was too tall for a kobold. ‘Your friends,’ Asher said, when Threadfin neared, ‘they’re here. In the camp. Roper gave them tents at the rear, near the latrines, but they’re surrounded by guards. Some are a little ... injured. It seems they didn’t wish to cooperate. He’ll use them against you to force you to get what he wants.’

‘Why are you telling me?’

Asher removed the metallic mask to reveal a human face. Something about his features suggested, Atlantian? What was one of those doing here, or was it another illusion?

As if reading Threadfin’s mind, the Atlantian said, ‘I’m here for reasons, which are my own. I don’t agree with what he’s doing. When things go wrong, and believe me they always do, you must get to your friends and get her out of here.’

‘It’s the getting away that’s the difficult bit. I’ve no magic here.’ None worth mentioning anyway.

‘Look to the ghouls, mage. They’re your way out.’ Asher replaced his mask and walked away.

No doubt, Pole was miserable, but he’d still find something to grin about. The viral turned his attention to the prisoner tent. At least they were alive. ‘This is not going to be fun.’ He strode towards the entrance, ignoring the masked guards, stooped and went inside.