AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Bought my kids a baseball and two gloves from him, couple years back, at Hannibal," the rifleman put in. "He's upgraded his vehicles since then. Used to be old truck frames pulled by horses."
Bee rode shotgun in the first truck, Chieftain in the second. Chieftain had toned down his look a great deal, and wore some greasy mechanic's overalls.
The third truck had ROOT BEER in giant black stencils on a white sheet. That had the largest crowd around it. Valentine almost smiled. The Baron's headquarters was in for a wild night.
Already, the Gray Ones were lining up to buy.
They brought him to the atrium. A temporary wire cage had been set up, the sort of thing used to keep dogs in, about eight feet high.
The Baron looked down on it from a balcony.
Again, it was mostly Gray Ones on the main floor, though in the smaller atrium there was a good deal of shoving and standing on flower beds and other interior decor of the old church to get a view. Men and Gray One elders were ringing the balcony.
The Grogs were unusually agitated, pushing each other and snarling. Some were idly digging daggers into the woodwork.
Luckily there were few women in the Baron's command. Valentine hoped Snake Arms wasn't dancing in the moonlight tonight.
They turned down the lights and some brighter spots were focused on the white floor in the cage. Valentine was led in. He saw Bee outside the cage, looking at him, fighting off paws reaching for her. She snapped her teeth at the more aggressive suitors.
Snake Arms came into the cage and began to unlock his shackles with a key. They must have figured she wouldn't kill him.
"We've arranged a special fight tonight," the Baron said. He saw a commotion next to him, caught a flash of one of the Baron's pet Reaper faces.
They threw a figure off the balcony. It pivoted neatly in fall, and landed on its feet.
Duvalier!
She had a bandage on her left hand and an ugly bruise on her chin, but otherwise looked healthy. Like Valentine, she was stripped to the waist. Unlike Valentine, she was armed, with a Kabar-style fighting knife.
"We caught one of Southern Command's finest sneaking around the woods in civilian clothes," the Baron said. "By rights, she can be shot as a spy. But we'll give her a fighting chance against our champion, here. Only one of these two will leave the cage alive, tonight. The other's head will go up on the ancient cross for Warmoon!"
"Sorry, Val," Duvalier said. "Whaddya suppose they'll do to us if we don't fight."
"That's easy. You all three die. Snake Arms, too," the Baron said.
Snake Arms flew to the cage's door, but a chain closed it. "No, this isn't part of the deal! I could be pregnant! You can't-"
"We'll fight, all right," Valentine said. "Bee, tell the Gray Ones what I'm saying. Speak my words!"
Bee nodded. She swung up to the top of the cage, standing balanced at the joints with one arm bracing herself, like King Kong atop the Empire State Building.
Valentine smiled at the hubbub. The Gray Ones were putting their heads together and muttering.
"I'll give you all a fight," Valentine said. "I've mated with a woman under the Chief's protection. I'm part of the Deathring Tribe now, and demand my rights."
He patted Snake Arms on the belly. He had no idea if she might be pregnant, nor had enough time passed for her to have an inkling either, he suspected, but the Grogs understood the gesture.
"Don't talk tribe to us, buck," one of the Iowans said. "This is a military organization, not some Grog's head hut."
"To you, perhaps," Valentine said. "I'm challenging the Chief's leadership." He switched to his poor Gray One dialect and repeated it. "Has he ever had to fight to win it or defend it?"
A few laughs broke out among the humans, but the Grogs began to go quiet. He spoke the words again, louder. Bee amplified them.
"When night stalkers come, does Chief protect? Does he give? Where are herds, where are wives? Deathring Tribe fight hard for no reward. Where are the wives?"
The excited Grogs digging their daggers into the woodwork and pawing at Bee looked up and began to bellow at the Gray Baron.
"You fucking idiot," his dark assistant he called "Chuckles" said in his ear.
