Part 28 (1/2)

”It's called an Agenahl. A brute, but smart enough to outthink you if you're not careful.”

”So I discovered. Are there a lot of them?”

The big man shook his head. ”Not so many anymore. They're freaks, mutants left over from the Great Wars. Me and others like me are working hard at making them extinct, but it's not so easy.” He paused. ”Usually, they hunt in mating pairs. Odd to find a mature one traveling alone.”

Sider nodded. ”I killed its mate several days back, then came looking for this one to finish the job. I didn't want it leading any others back to where I come from.”

”Smart of you. If they find a place they like, plenty of food they can hunt, they bring all their friends and relatives to the feast.” He paused. ”You come from somewhere in those mountains east, do you?”

Sider hesitated, and then nodded. ”Quite a ways off.”

”Never been back there. No reason to go. My work is all down here, on the flats and in the woods, working for the fastholds. You look like you might do work of that sort.”

”What sort of work would that be?”

”Mercenary. Work for hire. You do any of that? Never mind, don't answer. I'm asking questions when I should be thinking of fixing you some food. You hungry? Like a little something to eat? Storm pa.s.sed us by awhile back, moving north, so we don't have to worry about shelter right away. How about it?”

With Sider's tacit blessing, the big man set about building a fire and cooking a mix of beans and vegetables and salted meat he fetched from his backpack. It was one of the best meals Sider could remember, and he ate it all in spite of his injuries. He accepted a bit of root the other man offered, as well, an herb that he was told would help dull the pain, but needed to be taken on a full stomach to avoid cramps. Sider found that it worked.

”My name's Deladion Inch,” the other offered when the meal was done and they were back to conversing.

”Sider Ament,” Sider replied, offering his hand.

Inch shook it. ”So what do you call that piece of black wood you're carrying? I tried to take it out of your hand while I was working on you-just to make things easier, not to try to steal it, you understand-but you had a death grip on it. It started glowing when I touched it. I didn't think that was a good sign, given what I saw it do to the Agenahl.”

The Gray Man hesitated, still not certain how much he wanted to tell his newfound companion, even if he had saved his life. It wasn't his manner to reveal anything more than he had to about anything. He instinctively liked this man, but he really didn't know anything about him. Trusting people you didn't know was never a good idea.

”Oh, you don't need to worry about giving anything away,” Inch declared before Sider could make up his mind. ”I know magic when I see it. It's still around, even after all these years of people living like animals and beating one another to death with clubs. Don't trust it, myself. But others do, and some seem able to make it work. I guess you must be one. What's different about you is the staff. I was just curious about it, is all.”

”The staff was given to me by my predecessor, one in a long line of bearers,” Sider replied, making up his mind to trust Dedalion Inch that far. ”It's complicated. In the old days, those bearers would have been called Knights of the Word. Do you know the name?”

The big man shook his head. ”Never heard of them. People did talk about the Word in the old days. A few still do. Not many, though. No reason for it. But tell me more about the staff.” He paused. ”Look, I know you think I'm being more than a little too curious about something I shouldn't. But I like weapons. I use them all the time in my line of work and see others use them, too, and I've never seen anything like that staff.”

Sider shrugged. ”There isn't another like it, so far as I know. There used to be two in the valley where I live, but one was destroyed. Now there's only this one, and I'm the only one who can use it. So it's not of much use to anyone else.”

The big man seemed to think about that for a moment. Then he grinned, reached over his shoulder and pulled a wicked-looking black-barreled weapon from a sheath strapped across his back. ”Ever see one of these?”

The Gray Man shook his head. ”But I've heard about weapons like it that date back to the time of the Great Wars. They were used by government armies and then later by rogue militias after the armies were destroyed. They fired metal projectiles of some sort, didn't they?”

”Sh.e.l.ls filled with metal bits.” The big man reached in his pocket and pulled one out. It was about three inches long and an inch thick, metal-jacketed and banded with red circles. ”One of these, fired from this gun, will blow a fist-sized hole completely through you. Nothing stands up to it. Not even Agenahls. You have the last of those black staffs? Well, I have the last of these. A Tyson Flechette, best gun ever made. Pa.s.sed down through various families until it came to my dad and then to me. I take good care of this sweetheart.”

He handed it over to Sider to examine. The Gray Man hesitated and then accepted the gesture with a nod. He looked at the flechette, remembering what he had heard about them from the people in the valley who claimed their ancestors had brought a handful with them before the mists sealed everyone in. But all those weapons had become rusted or broken over the years or simply been put away and forgotten. The sh.e.l.ls, he remembered, lost potency over time and eventually became worthless. They were all gone, too.

”You can have your magic,” Deladion Inch declared. ”I'll take my flechette. It's never let me down, and it never will.”

He seemed pretty certain about this. Sider handed the weapon back. ”Well, I don't know much about it, except that it saved my life. Seems to have worked well enough for you.”

The big man nodded. ”Every time. I got some other stuff, too-other weapons and explosives. Thing is, I know how to take care of this kind of equipment, how to maintain it in good, working condition so it does what its supposed to do. Most people, they think you don't have to do anything but point and shoot whenever you feel like doing so and that's all it takes. Those people are all dead or on their way to being dead. Not me.” He grinned. ”How about you, Sider? You have to do anything to protect that black staff of yours? Does it need any special treatment?”

There it was again, Deladion Inch's insistence on knowing about the staff. Sider studied him a moment and then said, ”I usually don't talk about such things, Inch. It's not that I don't trust people; it's just a habit. But you saved my life and you seem a good sort. So I'll make a bargain with you. I'll tell you about the staff if you'll tell me about the world you've been living in. Because I don't know about your world. I've been shut away in the mountains for so long that I haven't any idea what's going on out here. Those Agenahls? Never saw or heard of one before today. I don't know what things are like, and I need to.”

The big man stared. ”You don't know anything anything? Not anything anything at all?” at all?”

”No more than what I've seen since I left the mountains two days ago. No more than what I've heard you talk about.”

Deladion Inch shook his head. ”That would be funny if it weren't so sad. You're lucky you're still alive, even given my help.” He paused, studying Sider. ”So what you suggest is that we spend some time together swapping information-me about this world and what lives in it, you about your staff and its magic? That about it?”