39 Hit Me With Your Best Slop

  The first night sleeping outside was very unpleasant, in the bug-biting, cold-creeping way that sleeping on the ground can be. Kim had slept in many a tent, but they were modern tents that kept the wind out and some heat in. Here there was no tent, and it was not a still night. The wind blew her cloak open, no matter how tightly she wrapped it around herself. Her feet were cold. Her hands, too. Fiora let out a growl about every few minutes as she slept, perhaps seeing Blayre's face in her dreams. And, on top of that, she had to be awake for three hours while keeping watch. Every crack of a branch made her want to scream: wake up Fiora! She only listened to that voice once and was met with several swear words.

  So when the sun rose along with her companions, Kim had enjoyed none of the benefits of rest, including being able to think more clearly. One trip to Starbucks would solve that, but there was no such wonderful place in this world.

  "Well," Fiora said. "We have to eat and have no cooked meat scrolls. A fire now might attract unwanted eyes and ears and tentacles. It'll have to be something quick." With a flap of her wings, she was up in the air, flying through the trees, leaving Damon and Kim dodging the falling branches and leaves.

  "I assume she's going to come back," Damon said.

  "Only because you're so special to her," she said.

  "Yes, I am," he replied, then laughed. He spread his arms, and she worried he was looking for a hug. But it became clear he was expressing his joy. "I have never felt so alive. And so… so useful."

  She thought for a moment. "I have never had to run for my life before. That really makes you feel you're alive."

  There was the cracking of a branch above, and Fiora plunked down in front of them, wings spread. "I have brought breakfast." She opened up her hands and revealed six blue and green speckled eggs. "They are the eggs of Benatar Heartbreaker Bobsies. Rich songbirds with rich taste. They break your heart because you'll always want to eat them."

  "Eggs?" Damon said. "How are we going to fry them?"

  "Fry bobsies?" Fiora said. "You don't fry Benatar Heartbreaker Bobsie eggs. That takes away their juiciness. No, they are served fresh from the shell." She cracked one open above her snout and poured the egg yolk into her mouth without missing a drop and swallowed. "That one was still warm!"

  "You expect us to eat raw eggs?" Kim said.

  "I expect you to eat 'em and smile." She cracked and ate another egg. Fiora smiled, yolk hanging from her teeth. "I knew you would be squeamish. That's why I didn't bring any of the chicks."

  "You…you ate the chicks?" Damon asked.

  "It's survival of the most metal." Fiora held out her hand to them. "Eat up."

  Fiora shoved an egg into each of their hands. "They will give you metal up your gazoo."

  Damon looked at Kim. Kim looked at Damon. They both had pale faces. "I'll go first," Damon said.

  "No, I will," Kim said.

  "Hey, this isn't a feminist thing." Damon was holding up one of the eggs as if it might attack him. "I just want to get it out of the way."

  But Kim opened her mouth, cracked an egg in what she hoped was the right direction. The yolk plopped down onto her tongue. She swallowed immediately before her brain could force her to throw up.

  The insides tasted heavenly. She had never dreamed that egg yolk would have the consistency of syrup and yet a thickness that bespoke of many calories. Good calories. The kinds of calories she could burn, running away from monsters or librarians. Was she imagining hearing a woman singing about a heartbreaker while she ate? "They're amazing," she said.

  "They are?" Damon cracked open his own egg and swallowed. "They are! Cooking them would be idiotic."

  "Maybe next time you can try the chicklets," Fiora said. "Squirming, beautiful sugary meat. It's delectable." She smacked her lips. Kim recoiled a little, but not as much as might have a minute earlier. The sweet taste of the egg was still on her tongue.

  When they were finished, Fiora asked, "What do you see above our heads right now."

  "Um," Damon said. He wiped his forehead. "What do I see?"

  "That is what you are going to tell me. We Metalorians know that when we kill another creature, or complete a task, read a book, or learn a new skill, we are often rewarded with Notes of Power."

  "We can get Notes of Power by reading books?" Kim and Damon said at the same time.

  "You have to read a book that might kill you. Like a Grim Reaper Book or Tormentor Tales. Now tell me what you see."

  "Your numbers are bright green."

  Fiora narrowed her eyes. "And now what colour?"

  "They are turning orange. Oh, now red."

  "Funny," Fiora said. "I was thinking purposefully about murdering Blayre. You can tell when someone is getting angry. Now I want you to do something."

  "Which is?" he said.

  "Look at Kim's numbers."

  Damon stared above Kim's head. She couldn't help but look up herself. The air was clear. Why did she suddenly feel so self-conscious? It wasn't like he could look right into her thoughts.

  "What is her Metal Health?" Fiora asked.

  "It's 21."

  "A weakling," Fiora said. "Now imagine that number going down."

  "What?" Damon said. "I shouldn't."

  "Do it, or I'll make her numbers go down with my fist."

  Kim drew in a breath and tensed.

  "Are you okay with this?" Damon asked.

  Kim nodded. Damon continued to stare at the invisible numbers. And the self-consciousness grew with each moment. It was like having hair out of place on Grad night.

  Then it grew boring. She waited and was about to complain when an itch started at the top of her head, and soon it was a burning sensation. In the middle of her skull. Like she was getting a headache.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "It's 20 now," he said.

  "Stop it!" Kim put a hand to her head.

  "Yes, you can stop," Fiora said. "You might be even more useful than I dreamed."

  Kim rubbed her head. "It's still hurting."

  "Sorry," Damon said.

  "Don't be sorry," Fiora said. "Her sacrifice made us stronger."

  "And why couldn't he try it out on you?" Kim asked. "You have lots of Metal Health to spare."

  "My metal fortitude would have broken his brainpan," Fiora said. Her confidence made it hard to argue with her. "We will work on your killer skill. Now pack up."

  They packed up what little they had and fell in line behind her as she walked. They left the forest and entered an open plain, which made Kim nervous. Anyone from kilometres around could see them. Fiora would occasionally take off into the sky, then return. "All is clear."

  "Let's hope we roll a four," Damon said.

  "What do you mean by that?" Kim asked.

  He mimed rolling dice on an invisible table. "If we roll a four, it means we don't meet any monsters. It's just a normal day. And no one dies."

  "Then I pray for a four," Kim said. "From here until eternity."

  Whatever the reason, they walked for several hours without being notice by anything other than a few rabbits. She'd once visited the Canadian province of Saskatchewan to see her farmer cousins. Land so flat one became a flat-earther after about twenty minutes of staring. This part of Metaloria reminded her of that unforgiving flatness.

  "What if there is someone above us who rolls the dice and decides the things that will attack us?" Damon said.

  Kim huffed. "You can't conclude that three days without problems as a sign that there is a dungeon mister—"

  "Dungeon Master," he corrected. "But maybe there are dice in this universe." He pointed around. "Maybe if I look hard enough, I'll see the dice rolling when he rolls them."

  "Dio stares down at us like a man on the silver mountain." Fiora had had been rather quiet for, well, for much of the last several hours, and Kim was wondering if that was her actual personality they were seeing. An extrovert when she had to kill things, and an introvert in-between. "Ever since the metal gods said, 'Let There be Rock' we have rocked. However we wanted. We will rock, rock until we drop! Or we will rock until our hoochie koo falls off."

  "That sounds painful," Kim said.

  "A hoochie koo is a leather hat with studs. Very metal! But the lesson is that no one tells us how to rock."

  "Ah, so it is free will," Damon said, clearly warming to the topic. "I think—"

  "No more fanciful thoughts. The moons are growing closer together and soon will cross. We might as well be barking at them and—" she touched her necklace. "—this beastly chain gets warmer every step, which I am certain is not a good sign."

  Kim put a finger on hers. It reminded her of a battery getting warm before it burst into flames. "You're right."

  "I'm going to check for enemies. Don't die while I'm gone." Fiora spread her wings, and with two flaps was up in the air.

  "So, do you think she falls in love easily?" she asked.

  "Because she chose Blayre?" Damon asked. "Maybe she just likes bad boys."

  "You're not a bad boy and it's obvious she has a thing for you."

  "What!" He nearly stumbled.

  "Well, she saved you from the mutt mindslayers. And the librarian. And when she talks to you, she gets right up close. She doesn't do that with me."

  "She's just being nice, I think." Damon scratched his neck.

  "Well, you just be careful." Kim couldn't help laughing. "It could be a fiery relationship."

  "Oh, ha," he said. "But you're wrong, I—"

  There was a sudden sound of wings beating through the air. Kim was pushed back several steps, and Damon lifted into the air, in Fiora's arms. He gasped for air, but Fiora glared down at Kim.

  "Run!" Fiora shouted. "Before they eat you."

  "I told you she likes you more!" Kim yelled once she got back on her feet. "You're her favourite." But they were far enough in the air that they didn't hear. Fiora certainly could fly fast.

  But why was she telling her to run? Kim wondered.

  Then she heard a rumbling, growling sound. And she turned.

  At first, she was reminded of being at Yellowstone Park with her father. They had gone there to see so many things, like the geyser Old Faithful, who wasn't faithful. And also, they had been in their vehicle as a small herd of bison had come over a hill. They were majestic. Large, powerful. And rumbling.

  That's what she thought she saw behind her. But if they were buffalo, then their ears were shaped wrong. And these creatures were hornless. With snouts and teeth.

  Then, the primal part of her mind recognized their form. She was already moving because she had run. The creatures had, in unison, begun speeding in her direction. Then slowly, her brain put it all together. The size. The shape. The snout.

  They were giant wolves.

  40 Barking at the Loon

  Watching Kim slowly get smaller made Damon feel both bad and good. Good, because he was in Fiora's arms again and her flowery scent was calming. He was safely above the ominous dust cloud. But worry nibbled at that sense of safety, because he knew Kim was in that ominous dust cloud's path. Fiora winged away at great speed, occasionally looking over her shoulder.

  "We can't leave her there," Damon said.

  "Life is a series of hard choices," Fiora replied. "I had two choices: take one of you or flee on my own."

  "But why me?" he said.

  "You're my favorite." She laughed, which he could only characterize as a cruel sound.

  Kim was now quite small, and the dust cloud and the forms coming towards her were large. "Let me go!" He pushed against her shoulder, but Fiora squeezed him closer, to the point he could barely breathe. "Let me go!"

  "If I let you go from this height, you will die," she said.

  "I mean, let me go help her," he said. "Against whatever horrid thing is coming her way. Demon locusts? Goblins? A massive army of gelatinous cubes?"

  "No. No. And no!" Fiora said. "I really wonder about the world you come from. A great power kicks that cloud up."

  "Which is?" he asked.

  "Vargs," she said as if that explained everything.

  "Vargs?"

  "It's like a wolf, but worse."

  "You could just hover above a pack of wolves and scare them away with your flames."

  She shook her head. "The vargs could bring us down from the sky in a heartbeat. That is why we need distance."

  "How would they do it?" he asked. "Bark at us?"

  "They would sing," she said, looking over her shoulder. "She will either live or she will die."

  Kim was now so far away, she was hard to distinguish from the cloud. Damon scoured his mind for a strategy to help her, but all that waited in a corner of his mind were the three spells. The Enter Sandman spell, if it worked, would send them crashing into the ground. Why didn't he have a charm or teleport spell?

  He looked around in the real world. Nothing out here to help him.

  Then he was drawn, for the thousandth time, towards the numbers floating above Fiora's head. They were orange now, which he was certain indicated she was under stress. He stared at Fiora's top number:

  Metal Health: 116

  He imagined it going down: 115, 114, 113.

  Nothing happened.

  "I assume by your silence that you have shed your loon-like thoughts," she said. "And agree that my decision was the only logical choice to make."

  "No," he mumbled. "Never."

  "Well, you don't have to be snarky about it."

  It had been easier to alter Kim's Metal Health number because she was weaker. Fiora had a fortress around her numbers.

  He gave it another mental stab to no avail. Then, an image appeared in his head, and he heard his father's voice: "This is the most underrated band in rock." His father had had a long list of bands that were underrated, but the album he was holding was Fist's In the Red. The cover was an analogue gauge with a needle pointing at the red. It was a great album, though Damon preferred Fleet Street. Before he went too far down the track of that memory, he realized his subconscious had brought that image to mind for a reason.

  In the red. What happened when someone was attacked? Well, the numbers turned red. Maybe… maybe that was it.

  He imagined Fiora's Metal Health number turning red. They shifted into a darker orange, then as he concentrated harder it went a light red.

  "Weird," Fiora said. "My brain shakes like I'm trying to solve a hard math problem."

  He imagined her Metal Health number becoming a bright, burning red, and the number responded. Yes! Damon thought, uncertain if he should push this any farther. But he needed to force her to the ground.

  He concentrated harder, and the number went down by one to 115.

  "Yes," he whispered. But it would take hours to lower her down to a Metal Health that would get her to drop him off. He redoubled his efforts.

  "Oh," Fiora said. "It's not math making my head ache. You're my headache." She slipped her hand around his neck and squeezed, stopping the oxygen from going to his brain. "You are being brave and stupid, but you also have learned something about your abilities. Impressive."

  At the word impressive, she squeezed even harder.

  His vision blurred. The number above her head was dim now. His lungs wanted air, but faster than that was a darkness coming towards his brain. Unconsciousness was just around the corner.

  And what was the opposite of darkness? He wondered as his thoughts grew grey.

  "Lumen!" His nose burst into brightness, causing Fiora to pull back her head from the blinding light show.

  "Ouch!" Her pupils were as small as pinheads. "That does not rock."

  "Let me down." She had released her hand enough that he could draw in a breath. "That's right, if you don't land I'll keep my…my nose glowing until you go blind."

  She let go of his neck. He sucked in a breath. "Good. Let's save Kim. It's the right thing to do."

  "There is only one right thing to do," she said, and he realized she had retracted her arm. "Nighty night, Brightnose."

  And then her fist smashed into his jaw. And all the lights went out except for his glowing nose.