Butcher Bird

TWENTY-SIX My Enemy’s Enemy

“Shit,” said Spyder.

“Aw, baby’s first word,” Lulu said. “Guess you’re all right, cowboy.”

Spyder opened his eyes. He couldn’t sit up or quite focus on any one object. He recognized Lulu’s blur because he’d seen that before in plenty of bars. A blur that might have been Shrike, left what was probably a campfire and came to where Spyder lay.

“How are you feeling?” asked Shrike.

“Alive. Gangbanged by gorillas.”

“It was a hard landing.”

“A soft crash is more like it,” said Lulu.

“But everyone made it,” Shrike said.

“It’s hard to breathe,” said Spyder.

“You may have broken some ribs,” said Shrike. “Count Non did a healing spell on you, but it’s still going to hurt for a few days.”

“Count who?”

“Count Non,” said Lulu. “The flyboy who saved us. He’s the coolest. Steve McQueen fucked Superman and they had a baby. I already almost cut off some fingers playing with all his weirdass weapons.”

“How about Primo? He fell off the wing.”

“See for yourself,” said Shrike. “Can you sit up?”

With Shrike and Lulu’s help, Spyder managed to sit upright in the sand. Every breath was an adventure in pain. He gasped and took shallow breaths. That helped. Over by the fire, Primo sat, his injured shoulder wrapped in a clean bandage. He was drinking with a tall man dressed in leather and chainmail. The stranger had a scarred but darkly handsome face and eyes that glowed like a cat’s in the firelight. He nodded at Spyder. Primo turned and smiled when he saw Spyder awake.

“Good to see you up, sir! Thank you for your help off the ship!”

Spyder tried to shout back, but his ribs spasmed and he couldn’t get his breath. He gave Primo a pained smile and a little wave. The stranger, Count Non, raised his glass at Spyder.

“I’ve seen that guy before,” said Spyder.

“Yes, he said he knew you, too,” said Shrike.

“He doesn’t know me. We just saw each other at the weird market with the Sphinx. How did he end up near our ship?”

“He was coming to knock us out of the sky.”

“He said that?”

“Yes.”

“A good dresser and honest as a preacher,” said Lulu. “Why can’t I find a girl like that?”

“Why is he still here if he came to bury us?” asked Spyder.

“Because I changed my mind,” said Count Non.

Spyder’s senses clearly weren’t hitting on all cylinders yet. He hadn’t seen the Count coming over.

“You need to move around or those muscles will stiffen up. Let me help you,” Count Non said, reaching down and effortlessly lifting Spyder to his feet. It hurt like hell to be upright, but Spyder swallowed the pain. He didn’t dare let go of the Count’s shoulder as the man walked him slowly to the fire.

“How’s the arm, Primo?” asked Spyder. “Or, well, you know what I mean.”

The little man smiled and turned to let Spyder see his empty sleeve. “Like you, I’m a bit sore, but the Count has an extensive knowledge of healing magic. And it’s hard to kill us Gytrash.”

“Lucky for us,” said the Count. Spyder watched the little man smile broadly. It was weird, but the Count had that kind of air about him. Spyder wasn’t sure what it was, but the man’s title fit him. There was a weight to his presence that was oddly—Spyder couldn’t think of another word for it except “regal.” He turned back to the Count.

“You look better without the makeup,” he said.

Count Non chuckled. “Do you think so? If I’d known I wasn’t flying right back to civilization, I would have packed it. My scars bother some people.”

“I think they’re cool,” said Lulu.

“Thank you.”

“What do you do, Count. When you aren’t trying to kill us?” asked Spyder.

“Don’t be rude,” whispered Shrike.

“It’s all right,” said Count Non. “He’s right to feel uneasy, being saved by his executioner. I was all set to kill you, especially when I saw you dealing with that pig prince of the Erragal Clan. Then I saw the Brotherhood attack your ship and knew that we were on the same side.”

“What side is that?” asked Spyder. “I didn’t even know there were sides.”

“The Brotherhood is scared enough of your expedition to try and stop you, and that’s good enough for me,” said Count Non. “‘O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise.’”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Lulu, picking up a glass.

“The Count is coming with us,” said Shrike. “We can use the help, getting where we need to go.”

“He’s on our side now? Okay, asshole, who paid you to get us?”

“I was hired by the Wizard’s Guild. I wasn’t told why, but I understood that you were about to acquire something that would upset the balance of ethereal power in all the Spheres.”

“So, you’re some kind of magician union buster?”

“The Brotherhood doesn’t believe in magic, but is more than willing to use it to its own ends. As we all recently witnessed. I knew then that whatever you were up to could only weaken them. The wizards will just have to sort out their business themselves.”

“Just like that?” asked Spyder. “You’re not afraid of a whole army of pissed-off magicians?”

“I have my own sources of protection,” said Count Non.

“Like me, the Count is royalty without a country.”

“Not quite,” he said. “We’re far from conquered. I’m traveling all the Spheres looking for help.”

“How? By working as a merc?” said Spyder.

“What better ways to meet other warriors and adventurers such as yourselves?”

“Spyder, listen to me,” said Shrike. She sat beside him in the sand and put her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been unconscious for a full day. And the Count and I have been talking. I believe him. Please trust my judgment on this. I want him to come with us.”

Spyder reached out to where Lulu was pouring drinks from a leather sack with a bone spout. She poured a glass of amber liquid and handed it to him. Spyder took a pull and felt the liquor burn where sand had scoured the back of his throat.

“Fuck every single little bit of this,” said Spyder. He rubbed his temples. “So, where the hell are we?”

“We made it to Kher-aba, the right island to get to the Kasla Mountains,” said Shrike. “But we’re on the wrong side.”

“How big is Kher-aba?”

“Big enough,” said Lulu. “Walking is not plan one.” Sometime during the night she’d lost the pieces of paper she’d kept taped over her eyes. The empty sockets were black and deep. Spyder tried not to stare.

“Before we landed, we spotted a city a day or so through the desert to the north,” said the Count. “There’s a fres- water river nearby. We’ll follow that to the city.”

“What city is it?”

“We don’t know,” said Shrike.

“It’s not one I know,” Primo said.

“That doesn’t sound like a good thing,” said Spyder.

“It doesn’t mean anything, necessarily,” said Shrike. “How long has it been since Madame Cinders went looking for the way into Hell? The city could be a recent vintage.”

“In any case, we have no choice. We need transportation,” said the Count.

The liquor was making Spyder lightheaded. He remembered that Shrike said he’d been unconscious for a day, which meant that he hadn’t eaten in all that time. The liquor buzz made the ache around his middle seem far away.

“Thanks for fixing my ribs,” Spyder said.

“Glad to help a fellow fugitive.”

Spyder finished his drink and held out his glass for another. “So, Count, Lulu tells me you have some wicked bad weapons?”

Count Non’s face widened into a smile, showing perfect white teeth. It embarrassed Spyder that he suddenly felt like a little kid who’d just been given a compliment from his favorite teacher.