He had something all ready to go. But as he was about to cut loose, Spidersilk beat him to the punch, hit him from the side and knocked him ass over appetite. His spell went screaming straight up, making a sound like the biggest bullroarer in the universe. Gossamer hit him from the other side. A missile storm pounded away at him. Glowing red balls arced in from the fields to the south and for the first time I noticed a group of black riders down there, all mounted on the nastiest-looking critters I've ever seen. I thought I recognized our old buddy Toadkiller Dog. When the red balls came down they hit the ground like a giant stomping, leaving steaming black holes pounded into the snow and the earth beneath.
Exile just stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching.
None of my bunch did anything either.
The Nightstalkers came marching into the cleared area behind the wall, all spit and polish, neatly in step, their band playing. They began taking over positions as though this was nothing more than a changing of the guard. Brigadier Wildbrand, all squeaky-clean, came marching up to report to Exile.
The uproar died down. Nobody had done much damage to the Limper. He hadn't done any either.
Wildbrand glanced at us. I winked. That startled her, so I tried another trick, pixie that I am. "What you doing after work sweetie?"
She snubbed me. Not good enough for her, I guess. Just as well. She was too old for me.
A shadow fell on us all as she and Exile talked tactics. A granddaddy windwhale had moved into position overhead, not all that high up. I was impressed.
Exile and Wildbrand checked it out. He seemed the more perturbed. They went back to tactics. I glanced at the world outside. Limper was getting set to try something. The black riders had dismounted. Their steeds had disappeared. Toadkiller Dog was among the missing, too. The riders were walking closer. I noticed that talking stones, walking trees, and centaurs had gotten in behind them.
Limper charged the wall, a dark cloud forming around him. Everything cut loose again. And didn't bother him at all. He jumped up and kicked the wall—and knocked a hole in it fifty feet wide. Exile joined the party, somehow pouring on an endless, torrential shower of fire.
Limper hadn't much liked fire last time we saw him. He didn't mind it now, except he had trouble seeing straight. He wanted to knock down the wall where we were. He hit it two more times, once to either side of us, then backed off to think about what to do next. Exile gave up with the flames. They hadn't done much.
The Nightstalkers were busy repairing the gaps already.
I knew what I'd do next if I was the Limper. I'd prance through one of those breaches and start taking out my top enemies.
Being almost as smart as me, he figured it that way himself.
The snow was pretty torn up out there now but he strayed onto some virgin stuff while he was making up his mind which breach to charge. About fifty slimy green tentacles shot up out of it, glommed on to him, and started trying to pull him apart. The snow all around erupted. A whole pride of monsters piled on Limper. Toadkiller Dog got his head in his jaws and tried to bite it off. Something else shoved a hoof in his mouth so he couldn't do no hollering. The people who had ridden those monsters ran toward the excitement.
Exile and the twins paid no attention. They faced the city now, making concerted, complex come-hither gestures. What looked like a flock of birds rose from deep in the city and headed our way. Close up I saw it wasn't birds at all but lots of chunks of wood.
The flock settled outside the wall, neatly building a monumental pyre. Did they think they were going to roast Limper? They'd tried fire already.
No.
A giant pot followed the wood, sloshing, settled amidst the pyre. A big lid followed. It just hung around in the air, waiting.
The black riders got in on the fun down below. Everybody and everything was trying to cut the Limper up or tear him apart. I asked Torque, "You got an onion we can toss in?"
Brigadier Wildbrand said, "That's the spirit." She winked when I looked at her.
The spirit? I didn't have no spirit left. This wasn't even my fight, when I thought about it. And my hip was hurting so bad I expected to fall off everything in a minute.
The Limper bit the hoof off the thing that had one in his mouth, spit it out, let out a howl like the world's death scream. Bodies and pieces of body flew. Only Toadkiller Dog hung on. He and the Limper rolled around growling and screaming while the others tried to get back into it.
Exile assessed the damage. He looked at me. "He's too strong for us. It wasn't a great hope, anyway. Will you contribute?"
I signed to Darling, "He wants help."
She nodded, fixed on the action. For a moment I thought she wasn't going to answer. Then she made a complicated series of hand gestures. The eagle plunged off her shoulder, went flapping off and up.
I saw what Exile meant about Limper being too strong. One of the monsters was doing the foot-in-mouth trick to keep his sorceries silent. Toadkiller Dog was on his back, hanging on with all four limbs, his jaws still locked on the Limper's head, which he had almost completely turned around. But the others could not keep his limbs pinned. He used those to devastating effect.
The shadow of the windwhale grew more and more deep. It was coming down. Already I could smell it.
It dropped tentacles into the fray, grabbed Limper without any care to avoid getting anyone or anything else. Toadkiller Dog was in that mess, a couple other monsters, and a couple of human beings too squished to scream. A windwhale has the strength to snap five-hundred-year-old royal oaks. The Limper did not. The windwhale tore the whole mess into bitty pieces and dumped it into the giant pot.
Something to be said for brute strength sometimes.
The pot lid slammed down. Clasps clanked. The pyre roared to life.
I wondered how the Limper would get out of this one. He'd survived the worst so many times before.
I looked at Exile. "What about the silver spike?"
He was not happy.
"You couldn't take the Limper, you can't take us."
He checked the windwhales, the talking stones, the walking trees, the centaurs and manias, said, "You have a point. On the other hand, why surrender a tool you can use to knock the empire down? I have good soldiers here. The chances of battle look no worse than those of not fighting."
I couldn't answer that. I took it to Darling. Everyone in sight was watching, waiting for a clue to their next move.
Tension was not down a bit because the Limper was out of the game.
I signed. Darling had me hold the standard so she would have both hands free to answer. I felt funny doing that, like I was making a commitment to a cause I still did not truly support. She signed at me for a long time.
I told Exile, "The spike will not be used at all, by anyone, whatever the cost. A place has been prepared by the tree god, in the abyss between universes, where only a power greater and more evil can retrieve it." Which meant, I guess, that anybody bad enough to get the damned thing back would be bad enough not to need it in the first place.
Exile looked around, shrugged, said, "That's good enough for me. We planned to isolate it, too, but our method would have been less certain."
A flash and crash trampled his last word.
Bomanz had stirred himself. Up the way, Gossamer took a couple drunken steps and walked right off the rampart. The old wizard said, "She disagreed with the decision."
Exile stared at Spidersilk, frozen in midmotion. She relaxed slowly, lowered her gaze, after a minute went to check on her sister.
I checked Bomanz. The old boy looked real pleased with himself.
Speaking of old men. Where the hell was that guy who'd been following Exile around?
Gone. And I never noticed him go.