The 9th Fortress Page 5

  Scared, I resisted this foreign voice and took a larger step back. That orb then touched down on the grass and was gone in a blink. I bent to search but found nothing but disordered greenery.

  "Where the…" I muttered, my hands parting grass. "Did you see? Kat?" An instant later, I recoiled slightly at a healthy shimmer of blue light painting itself over one blade of grass.

  "His second death," said Kat, "and his new home. Follow orders Fox, or share this fate."

  With new eyes, I noticed the hundred thousand blades of grass around me. They couldn't all be souls. Not all of them. Could they? Guilt now possessed my own upon calculating how many blades I had trampled on route to the post.

  "Let's get back on the path," I said, regretfully.

  The samurai nodded and we returned, retracing every step.

  ***

  "Don’t like it Kat. Something’s not right." I felt my ignorance amongst the twisted vines and distorted foliage. I had spent many Octobers hunting moose with my father in British Columbia, and actually considered myself an adept woodsman; but only Kat appeared adept in this bleak place.

  With the stale air came a sense of the sinister, the lurking thing between trunks, and unseen predators waiting to pounce. We were not wanted on the tall grass, and we were not wanted in these dying woods.

  My guts contracted at every snapping twig and the wind continued after us like an angry phantom. With solid footing on a path of soiled leaves and deadwood, our trail ran to distant portals of melting blacks and swirling greys. Surrounding trees had only inches to spare between them, and their festering trunks grew high on each side of the path until their branches collected and clasped, forming a confused roof overhead. Skylight came down in beams through cracks, but barely enough to light our way.

  I followed three feet behind the warrior, who was as delicate as any ballerina with his steps. Like the best chess player in the world, Kat considered every detail, his grip unrelenting on the hilt of that katana.

  "Why do the trees grow this way?" I asked, feeling a biting cold under my skin.

  "When man is freezing," he answered, "he may embrace another for warmth."

  Shocked, my imagination began to reveal those petrified faces. I tried closing my eyes and thoughts to them, but it was useless. Desperate men and women spread like butter over the trunks of rotting trees; this wood was a drowning man's last second above water, it was a body buried alive and scratching nails at the coffin lid.

  Only practicalities would take my mind from imagination, so I searched for a suitable stick to construct a spear; unfortunately, decay ate the strength from everything here. The only object that appeared half-useful was the samurai warrior himself, and the two silver swords in his belt.

  "You have two swords," I said. "Can I borrow one? You know, in case?" I extended my hand, expecting Kat’s shorter sword, the wakizashi, to be placed there. Instead, the samurai turned to me with a mortified expression over his scarred face, as if I had just asked a parent to loan me one of their kids because they happened to have one extra. I did not fully understand it, but those weapons were part of my defender's soul; man and steel in co-existence. No, Kat would not be giving up a sword. He simply scratched another itch from his stubble, then uttered, "I am your weapon."

  I laughed. Never have I heard something so ridiculous said so earnestly. My companion clearly was reviling in our situation; one of the most dangerous warriors in Earth’s history was back in his element. A supreme confidence in his own ability impressed me, and I was keen to see the man in action, preferably from a distance and with a bag of popcorn. I was also eager to discover why Kat had waited so patiently in the white limbo above. What wish did he request from God? What would a killer born with no possible chance of entering Heaven ever demand at its gates?

  We two trudged a further hour without incident. The last of the sun perished through the branches, and with frost starting to bite and no hotels in sight, a terrible thought now dawned on me: Kat and I would be spending the night here. When our narrow path came to an eventual bend, we discovered two heavily packed horses with reins conveniently knotted to the nearest branch.

  "For us?" I asked, surprised.

  "For us."

  The sight of horses, these friendly living animals, pleased me. Perhaps this place was not as distinct as they say. It also came as a relief to find our helpless transportation untouched and unworried in such a menacing location.

  Kat heaved a heavy-looking bag from one horse’s back and threw it in my arms. "Water and suitable clothing,” he said. “You will need both."

  I untied the bag on a bed of leaves and parted the folds to reveal a generous flask inside, also a collection of thick animal skins — practical rather than stylish — and a pair of worn boots. I opened the flask and took a sip from the lid. It was water, clear and plain water. I drank and it quenched my thirst, but the muck lining my throat gave the liquid a bitter aftertaste. Next, I grabbed the hairy skins from the bag and held them up to scrutiny. It was a weighty woolly coat, a not-so magical fleece. "I’m to be caught dead in this?" I joked. "How can they know my size?"

  "They know everything…"

  ***

  I wore the fleece over my old shirt and laced up the boots. I connected the flask to a length of strong vine and carried it over my shoulder. Now, looking something nearer the part, we set off side by side on horses through the colorless scenery, which I much preferred to follow the leader.

  The advancing darkness did not appear to concern Kat, so I presumed he knew what he was doing. Although the samurai showed no interest in me, I certainly was interested in him. I heard snippets of his legend before we set off, but nothing on the man himself. I decided then to work it out of him a piece at a time. I was used to that. I would assemble clues and build a profile, passing the hours and easing curiosity. If the samurai were not up to talking, he would have to listen. "I've heard a lot about the samurai," I said, my head bobbling along with the horse. "I once read a comic book about one warrior protecting a village from bandits. He fought forty single-handed, even deflected bullets with his sword. It was really…cool." I squirmed at the sound of my own idiocy; meanwhile, Kat held his strict face forward. "Why do they call you Kat? Is that your real name or…not?"

  No response, zero. This business of day to day, getting to know you small talk was going to be harder than I thought. "I once knew a woman called Stephanie Dogface," I rambled. "Swear to God. She didn't have an actual dog for a face, but she was pretty ug-"

  Kat tugged on his reins and shushed me suddenly. His index finger pressed over his lips and his nostrils sniffed great whiffs of suspicion. Did Kat not care for my talking, or did the man of experience smell, see, or hear something I could not?

  The horses were far from disturbed, sedately snorting and kicking up leaves with their shoes. After too long of this, I decided Kat was being overly cautious, and prepared to break our silence when something toe-curling did it for me, a distant, indiscriminate screech. "I hear it, Kat…"

  He shushed me once more as the moan increased. Inhuman, it was approaching overhead, beyond our shelter of clung together branches. We strained our eyes through the cracks for a glimpse, when all of a sudden, the scream exploded down on us, rattling the tangled roof to bombard our faces with debris. Immediately, my horse reared, and I snatched at the reins to stay in the saddle. With a jerk, Kat also remained upright; his horse was circling a spot and he was kicking his heels in its hind to calm it.

  My ears were ringing as the chaos subsided. However, the peace was temporary, and when that ferocious sound and wind struck again, we both clung to our deranged animals and struggled for control. This thing was a bird, a large bird, and Kat, ever alert, already had his katana drawn. "Up there!" he roared. “Through those—”

  Our embracing roof shield unclasped in one single, snapping motion. Previously dead trees sprang into life, the branches like flailing arms in fire, causing a frenzied downpour of earth and leaves and wood.
The stark purple skylight was disorientating, so it was Kat who first caught sight of the bird monster, spooking trees, animals, and men.

  Growing in the dusk sky was the condor. Its wings cast an astonishing shadow of night some thirty feet across; brown plumage covered its chest and creased tart skin folded over its neck and head. The predator, spotting us, opened its gaping beak and screeched.

  I covered my ears, cleared my eyes, peered upward, and saw the bird’s opening talons closing in on my head. Seconds before my skull was caught in those claws, Kat booted me off my horse. The condor missed its man but sunk its nails deep into my horse. The poor animal let out a chilling cry when it was snagged and carried skyward.

  I scurried on all fours like a beast now, wind, kick, and fall knocking me senseless. Kat, meanwhile, dismounted his horse and set his legs like roots in front of me. "Get low!" he moaned. "Lower!"

  I flattened my face fully into the muck and lay like the dead. I could hear Kat’s bullish snarl as the condor abandoned my expired horse over far-off treetops.

  "What does it want?” I yelled, terrified. “What does it want with us?!"

  "Flesh!" Kat exclaimed, twirling his swords. “Keep your mouth shut!”

  The bird tipped its wings to one side, directing its beak toward space and then soared for it. In a feathery blur of speed, it climbed until a silhouette against advancing twilight.

  "Is it gone?" I asked, my heart pumping painfully against my ribs. "Tell me it's gone!"

  Groaning, Kat gave me a thump in the head with the hilt of his katana.

  "Shush!"

  Cursing, I rubbed my scalp as the condor started its descent. Falling like a missile, it would strike down on us in less than five seconds.

  Four.

  The incoming monster wings whistled like dropping bombs during the blitz.

  Three.

  "We’re dead!" I cried, shutting my eyes tight.

  Two.

  Preparing to eat, it stretched out those killing talons, opened its yellow beak, and screeched, starving.

  One.

  Steadfast, the samurai bent his knees and lowered his head. Then, with ferocious force, he kicked himself upward and ravaged the air with his steel.

  Zero.

  Both bird and man collided. I heard the thudding, ugly break of bone and bodies, and then I opened my eyes to see the feathers trickling down like winter snow.

  Unfortunately, the condor wasn't dead, but wounded, unsatisfied, and pissed off. It tucked its wings back and prepared for another dive. With fear surging through me, and with no sign of Kat, I lurched to my feet and started a jog down the path. It squawked and I stumbled, picking myself up only to trip over my own feet. "Christ!"

  I ran, my fists clenched, teeth grinding, and lungs wheezing polluted air in and out. An excruciating cry burst at my ears, causing blood to run down my lobes. It was close now, so close.

  Turning my head back, I saw its grips ready to spear my spine. I clenched tight, hoping to preemptively shut out the pain. Instead, and quite inexplicably, the condor exploded into a thousand feathers, throwing me forward through the air and firmly onto my face. Somehow, it was over.

  I rose minutes later, nothing broken, but covered head to foot in thick plumage. Staggering, I searched for the lost samurai. "Kat?…Kat?!" The sky was clear of birds, thank God, and the night was with us. "Samurai?"

  At last, I spotted Kat slunk against trunks like a beaten old car tire. His eyes opened when I arrived, exhaling with selfish relief over him. He had taken one hell of a knock but was alive, and I would not be left alone here. When his pupils sharpened, he appeared stunned, but not by the bash he just received. He was the samurai, after all, the protector, the legend, and yet here he was, drooped against a trunk with the feathered novice offering him assistance.

  "Close call, eh?" I said, shaking. "What the fuck was that thing?"

  Kat sprang up without any help and before he was ready. "An illusion," he said, concealing both his pain and embarrassment. "Someone is playing with us…”

  ***

  We spent a surprisingly comfortable night in the woods. I was dead to that world the minute my eyes shut, dreaming over the Earth I had lost. Kat, meanwhile, set his back against a trunk, his eyes never leaving me.

  We proceeded at first light, sharing the last and very nervous horse. Kat took the reins and I crammed in behind. We hadn't exchanged words since the condor incident, and by now, I had given up any plan to uncover the pieces of his past. The only important piece was for us to remain one, and to get out of these malignant woods as quickly as possible.

  Our horse occasionally would trot over lumpy mounds of moss, and the old Kat would grumble in pain. It must have been a long time since he had asked his body for such a sustained level of physical and mental strength, and on this particular mission, he would need all he ever had.

  Dampness lingered over early afternoon, and the path seemed never-ending. It would lead to a left turn, direct us to a right, and then another straight through the same stagnant sights. At times I would drift off, forehead bobbling between Kat’s shoulder blades, my mind in a pleasant place. All the nonsense about angel and samurai, woods and monsters might be forgotten in the stupor.

  It didn't last. My weariness was wiped clear when Kat pulled up the horse. I gripped my fingers into his sides, expecting another condor attack or worse, but scrutinizing the coiled branches above, I neither saw nor heard the bird of prey.

  "In front," said the samurai, out of the corner of his mouth.

  I leaned past him to see nothing but the tedious landscape I'd been trying to forget.

  "Your flask," said Kat, showing me his open palm. "Give it to me."

  "That’s the big deal? You're thirsty? You woke me for that?"

  "The flask!" he snapped.

  I huffed petulantly, removed the flask from my shoulder, and placed it in his ready hand. The samurai bobbled the watery weight in the bottle before lobbing it onto the path ahead of us. It landed comfortably on a bed of soggy leaves, and there it remained.

  "I’m not picking that up," I said, annoyed, but then, I wouldn’t have to. The flask sank, leaving a solitary black hole in the earth. The land around this gap soon fell like dominoes inward, revealing a pit with a bed of spikes.

  "Holy shit!" I gasped, unsure whether to admire Kat’s foresight, or to worry over who wanted us in that deadfall.

  Pleased with himself, a thin smile curled on the samurai’s lips. That smile was promptly removed, for while the crumbling dirt and leaves settled in the trap, we found ourselves caught in another. At our flanks, the swarthy air between trunks, those shadowy nothings, suddenly sprang into life, leaping outward and at us with a hundred oily hands; it was an ambush.

  I went stiff with fright, but Kat remained typically calm to it. The tops of these tar-colored monsters bobbled around my knees, and they were monsters, ghouls with gaping mouths hanging foul over their chests and gills squirting juice at the neck. All of them had hooked blades in their grips, but their yellow teeth looked sharper. They were piggish around the face, simple behind the eye, greedy with their fingers, and we were surrounded. "What do you want!?" I cried from my horse. "What are you?!"

  A guttural cheer went round the group, and their jagged nails began smearing and groping. One creature pressed its bloated black lips against our horse’s coat and proceeded to lick it up and down like a living lollipop. "What do we do Kat? Talk to me!"

  Kat’s mind was busy now; he was a mathematician, calculating numbers and odds of survival. Usually odds did not matter — the numbers were irrelevant. If Kat had his sword and concentration, then nothing could stop him. Unfortunately, this was not about himself, but about protecting me, and judging by Kat’s grim body language, our odds were not favorable.

  The slurry-mouthed thing that ran its lips over the horse stopped suddenly at the stallion’s supple neck. I witnessed this monster turn a sly glint back at his fellows before tearing its teeth into our horse
’s throat. The horse squealed and cried until its vocal chords were torn out, until it could moan no more. The dead animal remained in a stupefied stance as the others joined to gorge on its warm gushing blood, all of them fighting for a space to drink. Their hands reached into the horse's wound and yanked out innards, then threw the slimy strands back to eager claws. The horse wobbled from side to side, and as its legs were ready to buckle, I discovered why my companion was called Kat.

  The samurai first leapt to his feet, balancing like a tightrope walker on the saddle. Then — too swift for any eye here — he back-flipped over both the collapsing horse and me. I swear I heard the distinct ring of steel in my ear seconds before he landed on the path behind us, gripping his katana in a crouched and smoldering stance. Eighty or more beady-eyed monsters were focused only on the athletic samurai warrior. They watched him stand, raising the katana overhead with a daring, action-hungry smile; that sword was dripping with a congealed, dark blood — their blood.

  Towering over me stood four of these mutants, waxwork-like with caught, constipated expressions. There followed an astonished hiss all around as, one by one, each of the four heads dropped from their shoulders, and their decapitated bodies collapsed soon after. I opened my mouth but only a petrified wheeze came out as I caught one deformed head in my lap.

  Creatures roared and spat but did not attack. Instead, they parted to reveal another of their kind: a beefy giant, wide and powerful. In his muscle-bound arms, he held a muddy battleaxe, and he chewed a piece of horseflesh like bubble gum between his teeth. The surrounding lot respectfully lowered their heads for this giant, who wasted no time singling out members of his mob. Determined to please, a selected eight of these monsters charged toward my companion.

  Coming at Kat four at a time, they died four at a time. The samurai was simply a smudge of armor and steel, and when his human whirlwind was over, those chosen eight lay in bits by his feet.

  The substantial creature raised his axe and screamed at the insult. The rest joined the choir, and when the giant's thundering war cry ended, his beady yellow eye slits settled again on the samurai. Unperturbed, Kat armed his second sword and slashed at the air like spinning propellers.