The Nine Read online

  Perry was a storm. A tornado. His mind flowed in the red, and there was no start, and there was no stop, there was only frictionless momentum that carried him along with it.

  Taking up the rear of their retreating column, Perry saw a group of insectile figures clambering towards his left. Without conscious thought, he sprang back into the clasp, activating the shield, and creating a disc, approximately the size of Perry’s body. He shoved it out at the attackers, instantly disintegrating them.

  A moment’s thought: The stinger hit Stuber’s skin…

  He spared a glance over his shoulder, his shield reforming to create a semi-circle between him and the polymorphs. Stuber shoved Teran and Sagum along with him like a bulldozer, firing bursts into any target that got within two yards of them.

  He seemed fine.

  Go fucking figure, Perry thought. He’s probably immune.

  The group reached the tunnel, Teran and Sagum in the lead, with Stuber and Whimsby right off their shoulders, and Perry backing up, holding the shield between them and the creatures on the other side.

  “Go!” Perry shouted at them. “I’ll hold them off!”

  Teran and Sagum ducked into the tunnel. Whimsby posted on the edge, firing his left-handed revolver while somehow unloading the spent cartridges of his right revolver, single handed.

  “Goodsir, I insist that you make your escape!” Whimsby called to him, nothing about his voice panicked, just loud in order to be heard.

  “I can hold them here!”

  Stuber rattled a string of bullets into a polymorph trying to shoot the gap between Perry’s shield and the tunnel wall, then he whipped around and seized Perry by the back of his shirt. “Alright, Hero! Let’s go!”

  Perry cried out as he was hauled backwards, and managed to extinguish the shield just before it carved Whimsby’s arms off. “What are you doing?” Perry shouted, stumbling around and nearly tripping over his own longstaff as he and Stuber plunged into the tunnel. “I could have held them off!”

  “Yes, we know!” Stuber called back, charging on, his weaponlight activated and swinging in crazy circles, causing Teran and Sagum’s shadows to jump and grow and shrink. “You can do this, and you can do that, and yet somehow we had to come shave your ash.”

  At the mouth of the tunnel, Whimsby unloaded with both revolvers, and then spun and ran after them.

  Perry ran shoulder-to-shoulder with Stuber in the tight confines of the tunnel, and cast a glance at the big man, his eyebrows arching. “Shave my ash? Are you okay?”

  Stuber’s face pinched in consternation, but his eyes remained fixed forward. “Yesh. Fime. Jush shut your mouf and run!”

  “Where are we going?” Teran shouted back at them, whirling and stamping to a sudden stop, as the tunnel diverged.

  Stuber and Perry almost plowed into Sagum as they all came to a halt, looking to the left and right, where the tunnel split.

  Whimsby flowed up behind them, edging past Perry first, and then Teran with an “Excuse me, miss. This way please. Expeditiously.”

  They began moving again, following along behind Whimsby’s casual trot.

  “Ha,” Stuber gruffed. “Eckshpeh…Eckshped…fuck…”

  “Expeditiously?” Perry offered, glancing over his shoulder to see just how expeditious they needed to be, but back in the darkness he saw and heard nothing. Had the polymorphs given up the chase? Or had Whimsby subdued them with that last volley of his?

  When Perry brought his gaze back around a split second later, he noted Stuber listing towards the wall of the tunnel, his eyes wide and confused—the expression of a drunk man trying to walk a straight line.

  Perry reached out and grabbed a hold of Stuber, getting his grip under the man’s right spaulder and pulling to keep him upright. “Easy there, big guy! Don’t go crashing on me!”

  “Shomshing’s not right,” Stuber managed. “I feel fucked up.”

  “Can you keep your feet moving?”

  “My feesh are moving!”

  “Then just keep going, ‘cause I can’t carry your ass.” Even as he said it, Perry let out a grunt of effort as Stuber’s bulk kept pulling towards the wall. “I need some help back here!”

  Sagum finally caught onto what was happening behind him. He seemed surprised, as though he couldn’t picture having to help carry Stuber, but then he shook himself out of his shock and slid between Stuber and the left wall of the tunnel, propping the big legionnaire up.

  Stuber let out a mournful groan, and Perry knew that it wasn’t from pain—at least not physical. The pain was to Stuber’s pride, having to be helped along by two men he referred to as “Shortstack” and “Smegma.” Perry was sure it was an intolerable indignity.

  Whimsby pasted his back to the curved wall of the tunnel, tilting his head to watch them from under the brim of his hat. “Something wrong?”

  Gritting his teeth with effort, Perry tossed his head towards Stuber as he wrangled the man’s thick arm over his shoulder. “He got hit by a stinger. You got any more of that antidote?”

  Whimsby picked up running again, doing a strange little sideways trot as he evaluated the slice to Stuber’s face. “I do, but it’d do more harm than good if he’s not fully incapacitated. Here. Allow me to assist you.”

  With that, Whimsby slipped between Perry and Stuber, taking up the load of supporting the man as they tumbled through the tunnel.

  “Young miss,” Whimsby called out to Teran, not even out of breath. “Stay to the right up ahead. We’re almost out.”

  Another split in the tunnel rocketed by them, and by the swinging beam of Stuber’s loosely-held weaponlight, he thought he saw the light spark off of dozens of eyes, peering back at them from down the tunnel they didn’t take.

  Perry thought about stopping and sending a blast of energy down that dark hole, but before he could make the decision to do so, the tunnel was gone.

  Cold, clean air slipped through his clothes. He blinked, realizing the mud walls were no longer there, and all around him was wide-open darkness, with a vaulted sky of stars over his head.

  The texture of the ground under Perry’s feet changed. They were on rock now. Running down a long spine of it, with black fissures of unknown depth to either side. The ridge was wide, but those dark areas to the left and right still seemed like they wanted to swallow him up if he placed his feet wrong.

  Teran had slowed ahead of them, her light-colored hair tossing about as she looked in all directions at the mountainscape around them. Not a tree or shrub to be found. Just stone.

  “Straight ahead, miss,” Whimsby called. “There’s a buggy about a hundred yards down this ridge. Keep going.”

  Perry hazarded a glance behind him once more to see what it was they had just escaped from. He could see no details of The Warrens, save for a massive bulk that rose up from a horizon-line of stone, like a hill of mud, and beyond it there was nothing—only stars.

  That must be the cliffs, Perry realized. We’re on top of the cliffs now.

  “Steady as you go,” Whimsby said, still supporting Stuber, whose gait had turned to something of a stomp and drag, his left leg seeming uncooperative.

  Stuber said something back, but it was all just mush in his mouth. There was enough light from the flashing weaponlight that Perry could see thunderclouds forming on Stuber’s face. It was one thing to be halfway paralyzed. It was another torture entirely to not be able to be a smartass when you wanted to.

  Up ahead, Teran stopped, her breath clouding around her head in the chill air. She stood before a small, four-seater buggy with an enclosed cab and an open cargo bed. “I’m assuming this is yours.”

  “You assume correctly, miss.” Whimsby pulled them to a stop at the rear of the vehicle. “Master Sagum, you may be relieved. Legionnaire, doubtless you will find yourself more comfortable in this roomy cargo bed.”

  Stuber growled wordlessly.

  “No need to be surly,” Whimsby said, helping Stuber navigate himself into the cargo bed.
“The venom will wear off shortly. I’m certain you can save your very important opinions until then.” With that, Whimsby shoved Stuber’s limp left leg into the cargo bed and slammed the tailgate. “Let us depart.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TRUST

  The buggy roared down the ridge at a speed which made Perry cling to the handle on a nearby roll bar. A handle that Perry had always referred to as an “Oh Shit Handle,” which happened to be what Perry thought every time he looked out the window and spied the drop on either side of the ridge, the buggy tires seeming inches from going over the edge.

  Whimsby piloted them with the same cool aplomb with which he’d done everything so far. As though life and death meant little to him, and saving four strangers from polymorphs was just what he did in his spare time. Perry would have preferred the man be more focused on his driving, but Whimsby spoke as he drove, often taking his eyes off the ridge ahead of them and making eye contact for worrisome stretches of time.

  “Never can be too careful around here,” Whimsby advised. “Particularly at night. The polymorphs don’t always hunt at night, but if you’re alone, and it’s dark, they see a target of opportunity.”

  “Alone,” Teran said from the back seat, thrusting her head up into the front. “Alone is dangerous. That’s what you’re saying.”

  “Around the cliffs, most definitely,” Whimsby affirmed, blissfully ignorant of the acid with which the words had been thrown, and who they’d been thrown at.

  Perry turned to meet Teran’s baleful eyes, which, luckily, were only illuminated by the light of the readouts on the dashboard. He imagined they would be much more caustic in full lighting.

  In the seat behind Whimsby, Sagum regarded Perry with an expression built of one part consternation and two parts satisfaction.

  Perry opened his mouth to defend himself, but then shut it again. What was he going to say? All the wrong things, probably. He’d made a poor decision. Granted, that decision appeared much poorer in hindsight, and at the time it had seemed like the smart thing to do—let the crew get some rest, while the guy with the magical shield goes out and does a bit of scouting so that they know what the hell they have in front of them in the morning.

  All of this would fall on deaf ears.

  It didn’t matter that Perry couldn’t reasonably have anticipated being stung in the spine by some freak of nature. It mattered that it had happened. And the others had been put in danger in order to save his ass.

  What he should do is have the decency to look ashamed of himself.

  But they would have to settle for silence as an admission of guilt.

  So Perry didn’t defend his decision. Instead, he looked back to Whimsby, who was, once again, holding prolonged eye contact with him while he slalomed the buggy two inches from certain death. “What are the polymorphs?”

  “Genetic maladaptations,” Whimsby said.

  The buggy trundled on. Perry waited. Whimsby had chosen to look back at the ridge ahead, illuminated by the rack of floodlights on the roof. He didn’t seem to realize that more explanation might be appropriate.

  “Two questions,” Teran said, parking her elbows between Perry and Whimsby. “Where are we? And where are we going?”

  Perry nodded. Yes. Those were excellent questions. Also, they didn’t have to do with him fucking up, so he was glad to have them.

  “We are on the east face of The Cliffs. And we are heading to no place in particular.”

  Perry blinked. “No place in particular? Can I ask what you mean by that?” His fingers touched the warm metal of the longstaff parked between his knees.

  “Of course. I mean that the charge on this buggy is only going to last for another few miles. I spent most of it getting here to The Cliffs in such haste. So, we will need to stop in no place in particular and camp overnight. I have a reactor module I can use to recharge the batteries, but it’s not ideal to run the machine at the same time that the reactor module is hooked up. We will be topped off by morning. Then we can continue on our way.”

  Wow, you have to be really specific with this guy, Perry thought. “So, ultimately, what is your destination? Where are you taking us once the batteries recharge?”

  “Praesidium,” Whimsby said, smiling. “I assume that is why you’re here?”

  Perry exchanged a glance with Teran. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of that before.”

  “Really?” Whimsby seemed shocked. “Well, it is a wonderful place. I’m sure you will enjoy your time there.”

  Perry chose his words carefully, still not quite sure how much to trust this stranger. “I’m curious, Whimsby. I’ve heard some things. Some myths…”

  Teran let out a low noise in her throat that Perry took to mean Don’t say too much.

  He raised a placating hand and continued. “Have you ever heard of something called the East Ruins?”

  Whimsby drove on, his expression fixed, his eyes forward. The silence stretched to the point where Perry started to wonder if Whimsby had even heard him, when Whimsby shook his head. “I can’t say that I have. Why?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Perry detected a subtle shake of the head from Teran. And she was right. Enough had been said. For now.

  “Just curious,” Perry dismissed.

  Sagum leaned forward now. “I’m curious about what you said. The ‘genetic maladaptions’ thing.”

  “Of course,” Whimsby’s smile returned. “In certain areas where the gods smote the land, such as the Glass Flats, from which you’ve just come, there occurs an odd genetic scrambling effect in the regions adjacent to it. DNA gets criss-crossed. Species get mixed up. It’s quite odd. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better than that. The polymorphs you encountered today were just one of the various types that we unfortunately deal with in this range of mountains. Regrettably, there has been little study done into these creatures.”

  Teran glanced out the windows, as though something horrific might be right outside them. “So there are other types of polymorphs?”

  “There has been little study done into them,” Whimsby repeated, with something that felt like finality. Perry’s hackles started to rise at what he felt was deliberate stonewalling, but Whimsby turned in his seat—again, ignoring the damn path—and smiled at Teran. “But between you and me, I’ve seen some very interesting ones. We have a pack of dastardly polymorphs that appear to be some sort of mix of raccoons and bears. Quite aggressive. You might see some tonight. But don’t worry. They tend to be skittish. At first.”

  Teran arched her eyebrows. “That’s…very comforting.”

  “Bears and raccoons,” Perry said, casting Teran a questioning glance—what the hell are those? Teran only shrugged, knowing about as much of them as Perry did. The fact that they were “quite aggressive” was enough to make Perry not like them.

  “Well, that’s fascinating,” Sagum said.

  The battery alarm made a sudden tone that caused Perry to twitch. It wasn’t particularly loud, but let’s just say his mind was a primed to be jumpy at this point in the night.

  “Ah.” Whimsby slowed them to a stop. “I suppose we have found our campsite for the evening. Please wait until I have cleared the vicinity before you disembark.”

  And then Whimsby shoved his door open, slipped out, and closed it behind him. The dashboard lights winked out, as well as the roof rack, plunging them all into darkness.

  Whimsby was just a shadowy shape that shifted around the front of the buggy and then seemed to dissipate into nothing. Swallowed by blackness.

  Perry stared forward for another few seconds before turning around in his seat to face Teran and Sagum. “Where on this scorched earth did you find this guy?”

  He could only see the outline of Teran’s face in the darkness. But he could hear her displeasure just fine. “First off,” she hissed back. “I believe the words you’re searching for are ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘Thank you for saving my life.’”

  “Gods in the skies, Teran! I made a
mistake.”

  She said nothing.

  “I was trying to scout out the cliffs.”

  Nothing.

  “So that we would know what we were getting into in the morning!”

  Silence.

  “How was I supposed to know…?” he trailed off. Smacked his lips a few times as though trying to find something that had the right flavor.

  Next to Teran’s figure, he detected Sagum, shaking his head.

  Godsdammit.

  “I’m sorry,” Perry said. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

  “You’re welcome,” Teran replied, curtly. “As for Whimsby…well…he came to us.”

  “Stuber almost capped him,” Sagum put in. “But Whimsby told us what had happened to you and said he could help us get you back.”

  “And you trusted him?” Perry realized that might sound accusatory, so he quickly clarified: “I mean, I’m glad you did and all. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.”

  “Well, there wasn’t much of a choice,” Teran said. “He told us what had happened to you. And what was going to happen to you. And offered to lead us to where the polymorphs had taken you.”

  “How the hell did he know all that?”

  “You’re going to have to ask him.”

  Perry peered past Teran and Sagum, through the plastic panel that showed the hulking shadow of the man in the cargo bed. He lowered his voice. “How mad is Stuber?”

  “I’m fucking furious,” Stuber replied, his voice like a cannon blast in all the whispering. The plastic panel apparently did not block much noise. “And I can talk normal again. So I’ll be happy to explain to you all the ways that you’re a boot-fucking peon.”

  “Now, now, legionnaire,” Whimsby’s voice materialized out of the darkness. “Mind your manners.” Perry’s door opened, as though Whimsby was his chauffer. The cabin lights winked on, low and yellow. Whimsby gestured cordially to the darkness. “I have secured the area. You may disembark.”

  “Uh…thanks,” Perry murmured, sliding out of his seat and stopping, close by the buggy. The glow from the interior lights created a yellow circle around them as Teran and Sagum stepped out, and Stuber hauled himself out of the bed, causing the entire thing to shake back and forth on its shocks. His left leg still seemed unwilling to support him. But his mouth was fine.