The Living Night (Book 2) (36 page)

“They like the Labyrinth,” he said aloud.

“What was that?” Sarnova asked.

“The Balaklava.
They told us how they
like labyrinths. They want this place to be their own.”

“They’re out of luck,” Sarnova said. “This is my
land and the Sabo is under my protection. The way I see it, there are more Balaklava in the world than there are creatures like the
Sabo. Junger and Jagoda are expendable.”

Ruegger started. “Are you implying that there
are
other
things under you
protection?”

“Oh, there are—plenty—but now isn’t the time to
go into that. Regardless, the Balaklava are
laying claim to a valuable piece of my land, and I won’t allow it. If they want
to fight over a piece of real estate, they’re free to do it somewhere else.”

From behind, De Soto said, “What are you going to do about
it?”

“I’m going to get you and your men to enter the
Sabo and extricate them, and if the Balaklava
aren’t
there you will at least destroy any animals they’ve
made in their spare time.”

“Animals?”

“They may call it art, but it’s not art when the
people they made that thing from are my subjects. Organize a party and see to
it.”

“Now?”

After a beat, Sarnova said, “No. Let’s see if
the Sabo’s parasites can finish this thing off first.”

With what sounded like a sigh of relief, the
Colonel said, “Fine.”

Meanwhile, the mud-sharks began circling the
corpse-monster—the Collage, as Ruegger would later call it; he, and everyone
else in the Castle.

The Collage didn’t need to rotate in order to
track its enemies, as the horse had had to do (and was still doing), because it
sported a plethora of eyes ... and just about everything else, too. As the
first shark lunged out of the mud to snap at one of the monster’s legs, the
Collage slashed a claw-like appendage through the air and caught the body of
the shark in its pincers. Slowly, it began to squeeze. Blood and guts sprinkled
the ground in a meaty rain. The abomination raised the worm-shark to its primary
mouth and began to eat, while human arms that were arrayed about the orifice
helped it devour every morsel.

The rest of the sharks kept circling.

Another parasite, ignoring the Collage
altogether, struck at the horse, and in the process ripped
open
the animal’s side. As it began to bray in terror, a third and forth shark burst
out of the ground and brought the animal to its knees.

Ruegger drew himself out of the dying mind of
the animal and blinked his eyes, readjusting to the outside world.

“Damn,” he said, and lit a cigarette.

“Not what you expected?” Sarnova asked, also
shaking himself.

“I take it that that wasn’t a scheduled part of
the trip.”

“No.
Although … some facts are
starting to come together.”

“Such as?”

“That’s right, you probably didn’t hear about
all the slaves Junger and Jagoda bought at the auction yesterday night.”

“No.”

“I assumed they’d use the humans as food or play—or,
possibly, incorporate them into a piece of art of some kind.
Stationary
art.
But this?
What they’ve made is part Frankenstein and part Salvador
Dali painting. I know from the number of slaves they bought that they probably
built more than one of those things.
Or at least a variant.”

Sarnova scowled. After some thought, he said, “You
really think all they want is the maze? There’s no ulterior motive?”

Ruegger smoked his cigarette for a minute in
silence. All about him, snow fell in a light flurry, settling onto the armor of
the knights.

“I don’t know, Roche,” he said. “From what I’ve
been told, they have an alliance with Kiernevar. So now they’re allied with a
potential successor to the throne and are at this very moment trying to take over
the secret entrance to the castle.”

Sarnova nodded. “It’s a power play.”

“I don’t know what they’re doing, but they have
an agenda. Count on it.” Ruegger shifted in his saddle. “There’s something
we’re overlooking.”

“Go on.”

“They must have sensed us in that horse’s mind,
or at least known that you were the one that sent it in there—which means that
they’re not trying to keep what they’re doing a secret. They didn’t have to
send that thing after the horse. They
wanted
you to know.”

For a long time, Roche Sarnova sat astride his
big black horse, staring into the tunnel, and Ruegger did not interrupt him.
After a few minutes, the Darkling flung his cigarette butt to the snow-covered
ground, and the movement seemed to snap the king out of his trance.

“Do you now believe in the Sabo?” Roche Sarnova
said.

“Is it magical?”

“I don’t know, not really. Basically, it’s a
psychic vampire. It feeds on terror, can’t grow strong without causing fear. When
it’s strong, it can manifest itself in a number of ways when it wants to
communicate with you on a person-to-person basis.”

“You have a psychic connection with it?”

“Let’s just say that if I need to talk to it, I
can. Usually our psychic connection is just a means by which to set up a
meeting.”

“Are these meetings regular events?”

“No, but sometimes it just needs a little
company, which I don’t mind. I find it to be an interesting being on many
levels.”

Ruegger realized that was supposed to be a joke.
On many levels.
Smiling a little, he said, “How do you
meet it?”

“For starters, I must come alone.
Although sometimes it doesn’t mind if I bring a guest.
It’s
a moody bastard.”

“I want to meet it.”

“Out of the question.
Especially
now.
Don’t you get it? There’s a war going on in there. The Balaklava
are
trying to take it
over. Anyway, we’re not going in there tonight. Not even to fight them. The
Sabo is strong. Maybe it will do the work for us. They may have bitten off more
than they can chew.”

“You hope.”

“Will you agree to call off Maleasoel’s attack?
You can see that she’d only be heading into a trap, whether it
be
that of the Sabo or the Balaklava.”

“Why do you care so much if the Libertarians get
lost in the Sabo and eaten by parasites, or rot in those cages? Or, for that
matter, get killed by the Balaklava’s new toy?
Last I heard
,
they were your enemies.”

“They were. They are. But if I could only speak
to Ludwig’s widow, I could convince her of my innocence.”

Ruegger remembered Gavin’s death. “She’s not
easily convinced.”

“She would believe the truth, wouldn’t she?”

“She
might
.
You’ll have to ask her.”

“If she was convinced of my innocence, maybe I
could persuade her to join me in my fight against Subaire and the other
traitors.”

Ruegger saw a man that needed help badly.
Needed an ally.
But if that’s what he expected of Maleasoel,
he was sadly mistaken, Ruegger thought. Still, something about the nakedness of
the king’s eyes made Ruegger feel for him.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll call off the attack.”

*
    
*
    
*

It
wasn’t hard to do. Sarnova had planned ahead for this event, had brought along
several wooden boards and posts to nail them to. On one of these boards,
Ruegger wrote, “It’s a trap, Malie” with a black marker and then scrawled a big
L underneath the message.

Around the L, he drew a circle. This was to authenticate
the message. He nailed the board to a post and planted the post just inside the
tunnel so that once Malie moved the boulder she would see the sign and lead her
troops away. At least, so Ruegger hoped.

Once the task was accomplished, Sarnova moved
the boulder back into its original position and turned to Ruegger. “Thank you.
I know this isn’t how you’d planned it.”

“It’s better this way. The plan was foolish
anyway. If you are Ludwig’s killer, torturing you won’t do much good, will it?
You’d only say what you thought you wanted Malie to hear.”

“Is that what Lord Kharker did, when she had
him?”

Ruegger didn’t know how to respond. After all, Kharker
had done what he’d had to do at the time, which was save Ruegger and
Jean-Pierre. Later, the Hunter had turned his mind to saving his other closest
friend, Roche Sarnova. In doing so, he’d betrayed Ruegger, but Ruegger wouldn’t
have been around to betray had Kharker acted differently when Malie had him at
her mercy. Ruegger was all too aware of this, which is why he didn’t bare any
grudge against Kharker.

“Kharker never lost his dignity,” Ruegger said.
“Although, if he’d been willing to lose face to start with, he
could’ve saved Gavin’s life.”

“He told me about that. You hold him
responsible, not Maleasoel?”

“I hold them both responsible. What you have to
understand about Malie is that she’s not in her right mind. She’s obsessed with
avenging Ludwig’s death.”

“And you’re not?”

Ruegger would not be baited. “Can we get the
hell out of here? The sun’s going to come up soon.”

“Let’s get a drink of water first.”

“Whiskey would be better.”

“If I had a lake of booze, you could have some,
but I don’t. However, there’s a big pond just a little ways down the slope, and
it’s got some of the freshest water you’ll ever taste.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“You will be.”

Sarnova turned his horse and began leading his
troops down the slope. With some reluctance, Ruegger followed. Why did they
have to have water right now? Sarnova wanted to show him something, it must me.

“Isn’t that beautiful?” the king said.

Before them stretched a little valley, covered
by snow and snow-laden
trees,
and in the center of it
all was one of the biggest ponds Ruegger had ever seen. Roche was
right,
it was more like a little lake. Miraculously, it
wasn’t frozen over, though the two streams that fed it were both covered by a
layer of ice. What kept the pond from the same fate, hot springs? If that were true, perhaps on
some subterranean level it was connected to the moat on the other side of the
mountain. Or maybe it was magic. Whatever the case might be, Ruegger felt
increasingly uncomfortable about the whole affair. He wanted to be in bed with
Danielle.

Bemused, he accompanied Roche Sarnova down the
hill to the rocky shore of the little lake, and the knights followed.

Sarnova stopped his horse and slid down, the
clinking of his armor one of the only sounds that Ruegger could hear throughout
the entire valley.

“Well?” the Dark Lord asked. “Are you coming
down or not?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Come on, Ruegger. What’s to be afraid of?”

Ruegger joined Sarnova on the ground, while the
knights remained silent and mounted. Rooting through a satchel on his bag, the
king brought out two large mugs and handed one to Ruegger.

“What’s wrong?” asked the king.

“We shouldn’t be here.”

Sarnova patted him on the shoulder and offered an
enigmatic smile that only served to make Ruegger
more tense
,
then knelt at the edge of the lake to fill up his mug. After a long sip, he
beckoned Ruegger to do the same.

Once Ruegger had taken a swallow of the water,
he relaxed a little.

“Damn good, isn’t it?” Sarnova said.

“Yeah,” Ruegger admitted. “It is.”

Leaning over, Sarnova examined his reflection in
the still water and motioned for Ruegger to follow suit. There they were, two
vampires looking back at each other beneath the fading starlight. One wore a
knight’s armor with its visor raised so that all that could be seen was its
olive-skinned face and big dark eyes that, once again, seemed slightly
mischievous. The other shade reflected in the pool, with its gaunt eyes,
unkempt dirty hair, unshaven face and many-zippered black leather jacket,
seemed like it had been drug off the streets of New York just seconds before, and not one of
the better streets.

“Aren’t we a pair?” said the king.

“What will happen to the Libertarians now?”
Ruegger said suddenly. “They’ll tunnel until they get here so that you won’t be
able to see them,
then
pop up, find my warning, and
leave—at least, if things go according to plan. How do you expect to make
contact with Malie?”

“Let me worry about that when the time comes.
Meanwhile, forget about them because you’ve done all you can to ensure their
safety. Now it’s Malie’s problem. And mine. Leave it at that.”