Date: Wed, 24 Jul 2013 17:12:17 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter Seven of "Black Dragon Rising" - Gay Science Fiction

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                                    *****

                               Chapter Seven

      "What did that to those people, Angelaria?" Talen asks. "Spill the
beans and don't even try to lie. I know YOU know what did it."

      She looks helpless. "It might have been a snowman...an Ogavran
Kor. And not the kind that you typically think of when you hear the word
'snowman.' These creatures come from Vas of Kleef- -I've told you about it
before. They're demons whose breath is like ice, and they survive on blood
that's been allowed to chill...to freeze. A single snowman killed these
villagers, butchered them in their sleep, and carried their carcasses to
the lake to entomb them until they were cold enough for it to eat."

      Talen looks around at the shadows and the dark trunks covered with
icy bark. "Do they sleep?" he asks.

      "I'm not sure," she answers.

      A scream pierces the highlands, the same one we heard the day before,
but this time it's much louder, more horrifying. And just like the one
before, it sounds only once.

      "It saw us on the lake," I say. "It knows we're here."

      Talen's face is awash in fear; his breath emerges in a frosty cloud
from between his lips.  "Let's make some tracks."

      The three of us find the road and start our way west, moving as
quickly as we can over the snow-covered path. Nothing appears on the trail
behind us or emerges from the snowy gloom, yet I watch the trees on either
side with keen apprehension. After lunch, I move into the lead and the road
steepens. The snowflakes are extremely wet and heavy. The track shines
through in big black swaths of mud and freezing water. My armor does a good
job of keeping it from my skin, but my cloak soaks completely through and
hangs about my shoulders like dead weight. It's miserable walking, but
Talen, Angelaria, and I keep up our pace, breathing hard and climbing the
slope of the mountain step by step. Up ahead, the snowy gloom parts
briefly, and the flurries of white flakes spread out like a white curtain
above us.  The tops of the spruce trees and firs of the highlands fade in
and out of view like ghostly sentries.

      I spy the top of a stone tower. It has a conical roof and is built
into the side of the mountain towering over us. As we approach I see it
marks the highest promontory of a large castle with six minarets and a
massive gate flanked by colossal granite blocks. A path large enough for a
wagon and a team of horses branches from the road and rises to the wall of
the keep, spiraling upward for a quarter of a mile like the back of a
titanic serpent.

      "Kian," Angelaria says touching my shoulder. "We need shelter.  I'm
exhausted, and I know you and Talen can't be much better off. Perhaps
there's someone up there that can give us lodging for the night."

      I consider it and glance once more at the keep, blinking the falling
snow out of my lashes.  My nose is runny and my lips are cold. I don't
trust keeps or the knights that live in them, but I want to get warm and
dry.  "What do you think, Talen?" I ask.

      Talen's doing his best to keep his teeth from clattering. He nods
rapidly. "Yes...dammit...yes.  I think it's a splendid idea Kian. Lead on."

      I grimace and reset my pack. The others follow me as I traverse the
road, which forks away from the pass. The spruce trees on either side of
the road rise thick and tall against each other. The wind sighs against the
walls of the keep, and the snowflakes, broken up by the branches of the
tall trees, drift lazily in the descending sunlight. I plod along the road
hidden beneath the wet snow (dodging the soft and extremely muddy spots
when I can) until I reach the bottom of the cliff face where the ascent
begins. The three of us, silent as footpads, proceed with caution. The
trail beneath us is slick with ice concealing a road of ancient
cobblestones. I wander close to the edge a few times just to marvel at the
drop to the forest below. As I near the gatehouse, the trees are so far
beneath us that they appear as a green blanket spotted in white.

      "How high do you think we are?" Talen asks, staring out over the lip
of the road. He spits and watches it sail into oblivion.

      "A thousand feet or so," Angelaria answers.

      "That's all?" I ask.

      "Height is deceptive," she states. "It's not the same as traveling
lengthwise. I know it looks like we're miles above everything. Trust me,
we're not."

      I yawn to allow my ears to pop. I can only vaguely see the path
ahead, much less the gatehouse. There's just too much snow. I set my jaw
and move my aching legs one after another, falling in behind Angelaria who
pushes her way to the front. At last, the three of us reach the summit and
stand before a massive edifice. The gate's about forty feet tall, and heavy
granite blocks protrude over the entryway which is dusty with the white
stuff. The doors are slightly ajar and made of massive timbers held
together by three iron strips: one at the top, one at mid-length, and one
at the bottom. Directly above me, the gatehouse extends over us for a full
ten feet; murder holes stare down ominously upon my shoulders.

      There's a silence about the place that's broken only by the
occasional whistle of the wind as it moves amidst the stones. I look to
either side of me at the upturned faces of my companions and step to the
door to peer inside. All that greets me is heightened shadows and more
gloom.

      I slip into the courtyard. Behind me, Talen and Angelaria follow, and
their steps make this little ~crunch~crunch~ sound as they walk. The
floor's covered in virgin powder. As I make my way across, I stir hidden
lumps with my feet.

      Clumps of rotting leaves.

      That's when I notice the trees, growing stark and naked, limbs bare
to the sky. They look long dead and I wonder why they weren't chopped down.

      On either side of me and about twenty paces apart rise twin
towers. The one on the left holds a door that dangles from its hinges. It's
also deeply scarred...maybe by axe or sword blows? In front of me about
thirty paces is a set of stairs; they lead to a pair of double doors on a
plain granite wall. Skeletons of ivy cling to a tall trestle. There are
four old barrels, one of them broken open, next to the wall on my left.

      "This place is deserted," I say. My voice seems somehow stilled by
the cold. Or perhaps a supernatural hush lies over this place.

      "I think it's a Valion keep," Angelaria says. "The Valions built
strongholds like this for their knights in order to keep the passes safe
for travelers and caravans."

      Ever curious Talen goes to peek inside the tower at our left.  He
lowers his head and gazes upward into the shadows of the place. "Nothing
over here 'cept a bunch of webs."

      I shudder. I hate spiders.

      Angelaria crosses the courtyard to inspect the barrels while I
proceed toward the steps.  When I reach their base, I take them one at a
time until I stand dwarfed by the wall of the keep.  Behind me, Talen jogs
across the snow and leaps lightly up the stone steps to join me at my
side. I catch the gleam of something shiny in his hand.

      "I found a sword," he says proudly.

      "Where?" I ask. He hands it to me to inspect. It's a longsword with a
slender blade almost three feet long. It's well balanced with an extra-long
hilt embedded with jewels.

      "It's from a weapons rack inside that tower. I've never seen a gold
hilt before. It was so pretty I just had to have it."

      I give it back to him, and he grips it tightly and motions for me to
proceed. I reach out, clasp hold of the door on the left, and tug on it
slowly. Weather and years of disuse have wedged the door in its frame. I've
to place my boot against the other just to get enough leverage to force it
open even slightly. When I do, the snow at the base of the door forms a
thick furrow after only a foot or so.  Inside the gap I've made lies the
interior of the keep shrouded in oppressive darkness. Some natural light
squeezes through narrow windows high above the floor, but they're mostly
covered in debris.  The roof is pockmarked with holes great and small and I
spot tracks left by rodents making their way across the snowy flagstones. I
blink to adjust to the gloom.  I stand at the end of a gargantuan
hall. There's only enough light to see about twenty feet ahead before the
shadows begin; they retreat into complete darkness a bit farther into the
room.

      "What happened here?" Talen asks.

      I've no answer for him.

      I tiptoe into the silence, lower my visor, and spring the blades on
my wrist. One step and then two.  I stop about ten feet in and switch to
night vision. The green tint reveals only smashed furniture, torn
tapestries, discarded and broken swords, and overturned tables. There are
broken arrows and crossbow bolts all over the place. I hear only the moan
of the wind on the eaves far above me and the rattle of loose shingles on
the roof.

      Talen and Angelaria follow me inside, Talen taking up the
rear. Angelaria's eyes are wide with fright, pupils dilated to the
darkness. She shifts uneasily in her boots, looking at the passageway.
"The barrels were filled with oil," she whispers. "I'm not sure for what
purpose."

      "Oil has a million purposes," Talen says. "As for this place, I'm
sure they planned to use it as a weapon. They had murder holes in the gate
back there. It's fairly common practice to boil it first, and then toss it
down on your enemies pounding on the gate. If that doesn't kill them, you
light it on fire and fill them with arrows."

      "How monstrous," she breaths, still casting her eyes to every corner
and sound no matter how small.

      "War's monstrous," Talen says with a snicker. "That's the nature of
killing...or as we assassins like to call it...the bitter business. Right,
boyfriend?"

      I nod.

      "Can you cast that light spell of yours?" he asks, fidgeting a
little.

      Angelaria rolls her eyes. "What's the matter? The big bad assassin
afraid of the dark?"

      Talen frowns and says, "You've to admit it's a wee bit unsettling in
here." He hovers near my shoulder, eyes darting nervously to every corner
of the room.

      She sighs and mutters the incantation. A small bobbing light appears
above her left hand.  She waves her finger and sends it floating ahead to
illuminate the room. Now I can see much better, and I raise my visor. The
floor before us is long and leads to a set of ornate double doors at the
far end. Fuzzy and indistinct humanoid shapes that I saw before are now in
focus: dusty suits of white armor. I move forward, carefully searching the
alcoves and shadowy places for any hint of danger.  Numerous pairs of rat's
eyes gleam from the darkness. Near the far end, a pile of tapestries
comprises the nest. The once rich cloth is now faded and covered so much
with dust as to appear gray and dingy. But my mind fills in the blanks. I
imagine brilliant blues and metallic golds.

      I think castles are kind of romantic in a way.

      Swallowing my spit, I freeze before the double doors. The fine
details, the beautiful carvings, and the intricate handles of hammered
bronze mesmerize me.

      "How lovely,' Angelaria whispers.

      "Indeed." Almost guided by instinct at this point, I turn my head and
press my ear to the wood, listening for anything on the other side. Aside
from our stirrings, the keep remains as quiet as a tomb.

      I kneel down and peer into the lock. I placed the fingers of my left
hand against the cold metal at its base and with my other hand I fish into
my belt pouch for a thin metal pick. I insert it not to pick, but to
familiarize myself with the number of tumblers that need to be moved for
the latch to pop open. I realize with a certain satisfaction that I'm
familiar with its design: an extremely old but popular arrangement of
gears. I also know that I can open the door by pulling up on the
handle. But, if I feel tension on the pick when I pull on it, then the door
is most likely trapped.

      Just to be clear, I don't expect it to be trapped. Why would a main
door have a trap on it unless something came through after the place was
clean and then set it? The answer to THAT question is an entirely different
can of worms.

      I turn rather stiffly. Talen's watching me, lips slightly apart and
his brow feverish with sweat.  "Careful, Kian," he whispers.  Then he
steels his legs and arms, levying his sword point first at the door to
skewer anything that might appear.

      I close my eyes, hearing my heart pound at the back of my
throat. Then I open them, wipe the sweat from my brow, and place my fingers
as lightly as I can on the door handle. With my pick still in place, I
slowly start to move the handle up and to my surprise; I feel immediate
tension. It feels wrong in so many ways. My blood freezes in my veins.

      "The door's trapped," I say. "Get back both of you.  I don't know
what kind of trap it is."

      Angelaria nods but Talen's reluctant to leave my side.

      "Go," I order him. I can feel a wire inside the lock with the edge of
my pick. Talen swallows and then lowers himself next to me and traces the
wire invisibly behind the wood with his fingers.  He does this based
exclusively on the angle in which I'm holding the pick.

      A trickle of sweat rolls down the side of my face.

      "Talen please...I'm begging you--"

      He cuts me off and then sets down his sword.  "It has to come out
here," he points near the floor. He crouches and places his face sideways
on the flagstones. A moment later, he sucks air sharply into his lungs. "I
see it," he says. "I see the wire!"

      Tethyr's teeth. "Can you cut it?"

      "Yes. Stand clear of the door. I don't know what'll happen when it
goes off."

      "I'm not leaving you here to get hurt. Let me cut the wire."

      "Kian!" Talen exclaims looking at me. "Trust me. I'm not going to get
hurt, but if YOU do, that kills me. Now get out of the way!"

      I nod and stand, withdrawing my pick carefully. I backpedal to where
Angelaria waits and put myself between her and the door just in case
something calamitous happens. Talen delays to make sure I'm a safe distance
behind him. Satisfied that I've heeded his warning, he slips a knife under
the bottom of the door and severs the wire. There's a moment of silence and
a horrifying thud; the door gets punched through by ten different arrows
from the far side. Their heads barely poke through to the other side where
we're standing, but I can see from here that the ends are black with dried
poison. Talen wipes his brow; I sigh in relief. Then the hugs begin.

      "Good job, Kian.  This trap might have gotten us all killed," he
says, kissing me on the helmet. I try to hide it, but there are stress
tears sliding down my cheeks.

      Angelaria swallows hard and shows at least some emotional
discomfort. "Yes. W-what he said. Good job and all that." Her face is as
sober as I've ever seen. After I'm done squeezing Talen to death she breaks
down a little. "You both had me so scared.  I-I don't think we should go
on.  I'm getting a bad feeling about all of this. I don't relish being
stuck in the mountains all by myself."

      "Now look who's afraid of the dark," Talen teases.

      "Oh shut up," she replies.

      "Angelaria," I say softly.  "Nothing's wrong...nothing's going to
happen to us. I'd rather stay in here. It's a lot warmer and if these are
the kinds of traps that have been left for us then I'll detect them every
single time.  Besides..." I start to say, voice trailing off. I look down
the hall to where the light outside has almost all but disappeared. "It's
going to be dark real soon, and I don't want to be on the outside when that
thing back at the pond decides to come looking for us. It saw us on the
lake, remember? It might not be such a good idea to be out in the open
tonight."

      Talen picks up his sword. "I'd like to get into something warmer, dry
out my cloak a little, and air out my boots. That was a grueling march up
the mountain, and I know you're exhausted."

      She lowers her eyes. "All right. I was just concerned, that's
all. I-I just wanted to make sure you knew that since I'm the reason we're
here in the first place."

      I put my arms around her waist and she smiles, moving her hand softly
over my metal glove.

      Talen turns his attention to the door. I move Angelaria to just
behind my right shoulder and hold my breath. My boyfriend tugs upward on
the handle, and the door just swings open. He looks back at me and then
disappears around the corner. Angelaria directs her light to go after him,
and I wait while the glowing light slips past me and over the threshold. I
follow last, taking a moment to examine the arrows from the other
side. They're bolts actually and without any kind of standard fletching. I
spot the rusty ballista that fired them standing ten paces away. It has
spider webs clinging to its surface like fine lace.

      Talen's two feet to my left. We wait patiently as the glow from the
light rises, forcing more of the chamber to come into focus.

      The room ends up being gargantuan. I put it at about ninety-feet long
and sixty-feet wide. Its rectangular shape affords several wooden posts
spaced about every fifteen feet.  Their tops attach to stout beams that
crisscross the roof far above. Ancient dust blankets everything. A large
table with a set of chairs, twenty in number, is positioned dead center. I
skirt the spent ballista to examine them one at a time.

      Each is made of oak and covered in fine varnish. Their feet resemble
lion's paws, sanded on the bottom so they can be pushed about with
ease. The silk cushions are a midnight blue, faded with time and use. Some
have been torn open by tiny claws and teeth; their stuffing lays strewn
about our feet.

      Talen circles around to the far side. The two of us walk the length
of the room looking for unusual things. About midway, I come across the
ruins of a large chandelier. Wrought from black iron and made to support
fat candles, it has two concentric rings. Long ago crashed to the floor, it
now lays undisturbed. Many of the candles are broken, held together by
their wicks. Some are burnt low; each shows some use having been blackened
by fire. The pulley mechanism is on the wall near Talen's left hand.

      They must have raised and lowered it to replace the candles, thus,
keeping the room brightly lit. I wonder what kind of parties and feasts
took place here in the past. I lament that I'll never get to see them.

      Angelaria inspects the ballista carefully, and she snatches some of
the webbing drifting around the old machine and places it inside a glass
bottle, which she then stoppers with a little piece of cork.

      Ahead of me, Talen scuffs his shoes on the floor. I see him pick-up a
piece of tattered purple cloth. I walk over to him and he offers it to
me. I gingerly take it betwixt my fingers. Strange and slippery it feels,
yet far finer than satin. It writhes in my fingers as if alive. There's
heavy gold thread along the top, and its color and resilience is unlike
anything I've ever seen before.

      "What do you make of it?" he asks.

      "I'm not sure. It doesn't feel like silk or satin."

      Talen smiles. "Is it just me, or does it squirm in your fingers? Can
cloth do that?"

      I shake my head. "It's definitely not your imagination. I feel it
too; it's unsettling. Do you think it's magical?"

      "If it's magical I get it," Talen says with eagerness.

      I scowl at him, and he flashes the puppy dog eyes at me. "Please, I
really want it."

      "Why do I get the impression that everything we find down here that's
even remotely interesting is going to end up yours?"

      "You love me, right?" Talen asks.

      "Yes," I say without hesitation.

      "Then that's why."

      Well how do you argue with that?

      Angelaria overhears us talking and walks down the length of the table
to stand directly under the magical bobbing light overhead. "Is what
magical?"

      I show her the scrap of cloth. She takes it in her fingers and almost
cries out. "How vile.  What IS this?" She wiggles her fingers and shakes
her head, raven-black hair cascading in liquid darkness over her
shoulder. "It's not magical. Or at least it doesn't detect as magical.
Sometimes simple detections are not enough to divine whether an object is
magical or not, especially if it's going out of its way to avoid you."

      "How can a thing go out of its way to avoid detection?" Talen blurts
out. "It's not like the cloth has a mind of its own.  It was made on a loom
for Tethyr's sake, and it's probably torn loose from a much larger
garment. I found it on the ground here...at my feet.  It's probably been
there for years."

      "I didn't say that it 'thought' now did I? Now before you get all
excited, listen. Sometimes powerful enchantments can be woven into a
garment for the exclusive purpose of non-detection. If this was a scrap
from such a garment, well, it only stands to reason that it wouldn't detect
as magical now doesn't it?"

      "She does have a point," I say to my blue-eyed, yet slack-mouthed
lover.

      Talen is clearly frustrated and rolls his eyes in disgust. He points
a finger in my face, "You need to stop taking her side, or you won't get
any sex tonight. Not one bit."

      "I wasn't taking her side, Talen. I made a suggestion...that's all."

      "You were too taking her side.  How would you like it if I started
taking the other person's side instead of yours?"

      "What other person?  There's no one else here."

      "What if there WAS someone else here?  Huh?  Did you think about
that?"

      "Well...I-this is nonsense.  We're arguing about nothing Talen."

      "Say you're sorry," he says, "or you don't get to fuck me tonight."

      I swallow nervously.  "I'm sorry. I won't ever take her side again."

      Angelaria shakes her head and looks at the ceiling. "THIS is complete
bullshit."

      Talen ignores Angelaria and looks rather smug. "No problem," he
says. But I can see that he's still a little bit sore at me. I can live
with that. It's the "no sex" thing that had me worried. I like banging
Talen too much for my own good.

      Talen doesn't let me sulk for long though. He whispers into my ear a
moment later, "For the record, it would have been really hard for me to
keep that threat, Mr. Sexy."

      Two French kisses later and I'm wearing a smile on my face that could
shame a barracuda.

      I turn my back on the two of them and walk the rest of the hall,
stepping carefully over broken furniture and unidentified lumps of gray
that I spot on the floor. I grab a stick and poke my way forward, tapping
here and there, stooped ever so slightly at the waist.

      I admit I'm a little tense and the noise of the wind on the shingled
roof far overhead does nothing to calm my nerves. The light of the globe in
the middle of the hall is not quite bright enough to uncover the shadows at
its farthest end. Once again, I find myself staring into darkness, trying
to identity shadowy shapes and patches of black that seem more sinister
than they actually are.  Behind me, Talen resets the leather pouches around
his waist and retrieves the bit of cloth from Angelaria's outstretched
hand. Then the two of them follow my path, measuring their pace evenly
until we've joined up once more.

      Angelaria gestures and the light overhead moves forward, casting back
the gloom to reveal a wall made of red brick with three doors piercing its
weathered crust. One of them hangs off its hinges like the one on the tower
outside, and I can see its far surface is pitted with deep lacerations.
Each is at least an inch long and spaced about the same width as a human
hand.

      I know no man-made weapons could have left these.

                                    *****

I shall post Chapter Eight next week. If you would like to join my mailing
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