The Long War

There was a soft tap on his shoulder. He turned, to look up into the cold eyes of Snowy.

‘Talk to t-hrrollss. Going well?’

‘I think so.’

‘Good. Your work-k done?’

‘I guess.’

‘Josh-shua?’

‘Yes?’

‘Hrr-run.’

The rock hatchway had slid back into place, and save for a patch of disturbed earth there was no sign of the passageway into the ground.

Only a heap of toy-like sci-fi blasters, retrieved from the cache.

Oh, and the ring, which had somehow been spat back out, to lie on the ground.

Jansson sat in the dirt, shivering despite the heat.

Finn McCool hissed, ‘Have guns-ss. Now back to beagles-ss. And ss-ay goodbye to Josh-ssua.’

Sally snatched up the ring and harangued him. ‘What did you mean by that, you piece of garbage?’

He backed off, hands raised defensively. ‘Deal nearly finish-ss,’ he said. ‘Ray guns. Trollen. Now payback. Granddaughter honour Joshua. You say goodbye to him-mm . . .’

Sally glanced over at Jansson. ‘You any idea what he’s talking about? I’m guessing, nothing good.’

‘Gang culture,’ Jansson murmured, exhausted. ‘Like that, maybe. The honour of the warrior. She’s going to grant him a good death. Maybe that’s what he means.’

‘Shit. Then we have to help him.’ Sally glanced around. ‘What have we got? Think, think.’ She pocketed the ring, and a ray gun that she slipped inside her sleeveless traveller’s jacket. ‘What else? You. Little Joe.’

The kobold cringed. ‘What, what?’

‘You got your walkman?’

‘Stone that sings-ss?’

‘Give it to me.’

‘But, but, but, mm-mine!’ He sounded like a child.

She grabbed his wrist so he couldn’t step away without her. ‘It’s that or your left bollock. Hand it over. Now we go back. Get ready to step, Jansson . . .’

66

JOSHUA BACKED AWAY from Snowy, and from Bill, who scrambled to pack up the translation gear. Some instinct guided Joshua towards the river bank, the flowing water.

How the hell was he supposed to handle this? He was barely conscious as it was. The device on his back felt like a huge malevolent crab now, digging its claws deeper into his flesh with every pace. Maybe the painkillers were wearing off.

And Snowy followed. He wasn’t moving as quickly as Joshua, so the gap between them opened up, yet there was a steady, purposeful, relentless quality to his gait. Then he dropped to all fours, becoming even more wolf-like. A huge, big-brained, weapon-carrying wolf.

Joshua was aware of the trolls watching, apparently curious, but none intervened. Other dogs watched too: Li-Li, the mordant Brian. More warrior types followed, it seemed, come to see the show.

Suddenly all the beagles howled, a pack in full cry.

‘Come, Joshua-aahh,’ Snowy growled. ‘This fun-nn.’

‘Get stuffed, Krypto.’

‘And honour-hrr for you. Gift of Granddaughter. Life he-hhre, cheap.’

‘Big litters?’

‘Many born. All die. To die well is-s to have lived well-ll.’

‘That’s your culture. Not mine.’

‘Head high on her wall. Honour-hhr of place.’

‘Whose head?’

‘Yours-ss.’

‘Thanks.’ Joshua, succumbing to the inevitable, turned and started to jog, parallel to the river. ‘How can I win?’

‘Die well-ll—’

‘Any options aside from that?’

‘My head on wall-ll . . . Play fair-hrr.’

‘What?’

‘I play fair.’ The beagle stopped, stock still, and closed its eyes. ‘R-run, human-nn.’

Joshua didn’t hesitate further. He ran. He tried to think like a wolf, like a dog. Or rather, cliché scenes from every bad wolf-chases-man movie flashed through his head.

What the hell. He dived into the river.

Given this was generally such a hot, arid world, the water was surprisingly cold, the current strong, and it swept him downstream fast. Heavy in his clothes, he struggled to keep his head above the water. He considered kicking off his boots, then thought about running over open ground barefoot, and kept the boots.

As long as he didn’t drown, this was a good plan, right? Throw the dog off the scent, like in the movies. But the pain from the lethal gadget on his back seemed even sharper in the cold water. And he felt like it was talking to him. You could always just step away. End it in a second. A bolt through the heart – how bad can it be? Better than getting your throat bitten out by Deputy Dawg back there. But he wasn’t dead yet.

The river soon swept him away from the cultivated country, the fields, and into rougher terrain. He’d been brought into this place unconscious, and hadn’t had a chance to scope it out. Evidently the Eye of the Hunter, the city of Granddaughter Petra’s Den, really wasn’t so large. He’d need to find a place to hide before Snowy caught up with him—

‘Watch out-hrr.’

The voice came from downstream. He struggled to get his head out of the water. There was Snowy, sitting on a rock as if waiting to be fed by his owner, calmly watching Joshua get washed by.

He yelled back, ‘Watch out for what?’

Snowy glanced farther downstream. ‘The hrr-rapids.’