Dirt's Icons: Dirt, #3

By Paul Brockman

Jack Pepper is between adventures and he's bored. When a mysterious hooded man offers him a fortune to undertake an easy job it seems too good to be true. All he has to do is find something that has been sought without success for centuries. Seems simple enough: discover the whereabouts of a lost city and bring home its legendary riches. Of course, being given a sackful of money and a treasure map is quite an inducement.
Only after his journey has begun does Jack discover that he is not the only one after the ancient treasure. Dark forces are at work, determined to ensure that even if Jack is the first to lay hands on the prize, he will not be the last. It's fortunate for Jack that he can always count on help from the Legion of the Dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Brockman
• Release date: Aug 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476348414

Paul Brockman

Paul Brockman relocated from England to America in 1984. A retired aerospace engineer, he has written several novel-length stories, mostly in the science fiction and humorous fantasy genres, with an excursion into an autobiographical book about hot-air ballooning. These are currently available as ebooks. Brockman has relocated to Somerset, England

Book preview

Chapter one

The Myth

A hooded figure limped slowly across the common room, leaning heavily upon a cane. Shafts of sunslight struggled through small windows still coated with winter grime to pool redly on the tavern's floor. Cleaving to the shadows and ignoring empty tables the hooded one came without hesitation to the dimness of the fireside nook where a seated man looked up as the dark form eclipsed what little light penetrated to his corner. With an interrogatory gesture the newcomer indicated the vacant seat at the table. The seated one looked meaningfully around at the several empty tables and frowned at the dark one who loomed motionlessly, yet managed to convey an impression of impatience.

I would speak with you, Jack Pepper, if you can spare me the time, a voice rasped breathlessly from the depths of the cowl. The seated man's eyebrows rose questioningly at the mention of his name but the other waited, offering nothing more. Jack Pepper nodded; a single jerk of his head. The dark one eased himself onto the empty bench slowly, as if the effort caused him pain. He sat sideways in the seat, ignoring the table, and stood his silver-capped cane upright before him, resting his hands on its top. Jack watched this performance in silence.

The hooded head turned to survey the room. The stranger drew a labored breath and seemed about to speak when a serving wench approached. Before the girl could utter a greeting the man gestured dismissively.

Nothing, he said.

"I'll have another beer," Jack said as she turned away. With an uncertain smile over her shoulder at Jack and a grimace in the direction of the dark one, the girl departed.

What's this about? Jack wanted to know. He studied the narrow, long-fingered hands that wrapped around the top of the elegant cane. They were unadorned with jewelry and told him little about their owner, save that he was an old man unused to manual labor.

I am reliably informed, Jack Pepper, that you are a man to be trusted.

Jack leaned back from the table and folded his arms across his chest.

That would depend upon what it is you propose to trust me with, he said. And if you're planning to tell me who you are, now would be a good time.

The stranger looked around as if about to impart a secret.

I am Katto Herra, he said. His tone suggested that the name should mean something to Jack. After a pause during which he received no response, the man continued.

I am here to offer you employment, Mr Pepper. I want you to find something for me. Something valuable. The pay will of course be commensurate with the importance of the task. What have you to say to that?

Jack drained the dregs from his cup and looked in vain for the serving wench, hoping she had not been frightened away by his uninvited guest.

I'm not looking for a job. I have a job. I'm a sailor, you know. He said the last with considerable satisfaction. He had served his two years before the mast—actually before, behind, beside, and sometimes at the top of it. Once upon a time he had been an engineer. Then he had died and been resurrected by the grinfangs, Crum and Ampit, for their own devious purposes. Now he was happy to call himself a sailor.

You had a job, the stranger said, and you will doubtless have one again, but for the moment, you do not. You are in limbo. The ship, Boomer is undergoing a refit and is not expected to be seaworthy again for quite some time. Your loyalty to Captain Blight is known to me, and you will not sign on with another ship. The task I have for you will not only pay well, but will return you to Farewell before your ship sails again.

The serving girl reappeared with Jack's beer. She set it on the board wordlessly, keeping her eye on the cowled figure as if unsure what he might do. Taking up the empty cup she withdrew without delay. Katto Herra kept his silence until she was well out of earshot.

You could spend your time in taverns while you wait for your ship and find yourself the poorer for it, or you could undertake the mission I propose and return a much richer man. Your friends are away on business of their own, except for the ghosts of course, but they cannot join you here. They tend to frighten away the patrons. So your vigil will be a lonely and unrewarding one, don't you think?

You are well informed, Jack noted sourly. Too damned well informed.

The hood nodded.

I make it my business to be so. I am prepared to offer you a hundred silvers here and now, if you accept my task.

Jack choked on his beer.

"A hundred? Who do you want me to murder?"

Katto Herra flicked a bony hand dismissively.

I do not require that anyone be terminated—at the moment. His hand disappeared within his robe and reemerged with a heavy pouch which he set on the table between them. "I am reasonably rich, Mr Pepper. It is my intention to become unreasonably rich. This bag contains a hundred silvers. Accept my offer and it shall be yours. You have only to say the word."

Jack eyed the bag suspiciously. With a hundred silvers he could buy his own ship. Well, a small ship anyway. Maybe half a small ship, he amended.

The mission I would have you undertake is not, to the best of my knowledge, dangerous, nor particularly difficult, so long as it remains confidential. He gestured briefly at the bag of silver. What I would buy with this is your loyalty and your discretion. If others were to discover what you are about, then my undertaking would be at risk.

Setting his cup down, Jack decided to acknowledge that his interest was piqued.

So what exactly is the job?

The dark cowl nodded in satisfaction, yet the man's answer seemed oblique.

What do you know about the lost city of Galdu?

Never heard of it, Jack declared. The stranger uttered a sigh that might have been annoyance or relief.

It is a well-known tale. I’m surprised you do not know of it.

Jack shrugged.

You'd be surprised what I don't know.

Katto Herra lowered his voice, though there was nobody else within earshot.

It is said that great riches await the man who discovers the whereabouts of the fabled lost city. Treasure for the taking.

A lost city? Jack struggled to keep the sarcasm from his voice. And you want me to find it? A city that nobody else has ever managed to locate, I suppose? He was sure now that his time was being wasted by a madman or a fool. He returned to his cup.

Oh no, Mr Pepper. I know exactly where it is.

Jack cast a suspicious glance into the shadowed recess of the hood.

Involve a bit of diving, does it?

No, Katto Herra replied, managing to convey puzzlement with the single syllable.

You have a map, I expect.

Indeed I do. He reached once more into the voluminous folds of his cape.

I'll bet it has a big red X on it too. The sarcasm went unnoticed.

Yes, it does, as you can see. He passed a folded oilskin across the table. Jack unfolded the map and glanced at it.

X marks the spot, he muttered, and was about to toss the map back to its owner when he was struck by an oddness. He looked at the map again.

I don't suppose it has escaped your notice, he said, that your lost city is in the middle of the Angsten Wood. That's not a very big wood, you know. What was your city called again—Lilliput?

Galdu. Once again the sarcasm passed unrecognized. "The map shows, not only Galdu itself, of course, but an entrance to an underground passage that leads to the city. The reason nobody has managed to find it before is that they were looking for it in the wrong place, the usual place—on the surface. This city is underground. I have studied my subject extensively, Mr Pepper, and I am quite sure of my facts. All I ask is that you visit this place and see for yourself. If the entrance is truly not there, then you may return home a richer man and I will consider the matter closed. But if the passage exists, then I require that you follow it until you come to Galdu, and there seek an artifact that I must have. Any other treasure you find along the way, you may keep for yourself. Once the artifact is in my hands then, and only then, you may announce to the world, if you so wish, that you have found the fabled lost city of Galdu—omitting any reference to the artifact, of course. You will be a very famous man, as well as a rich one. What do you say? Will you take on the task?"

Leaning against the hard backrest and lifting his cup as a delaying tactic, Jack realized that he had already made up his mind. What did he have to lose, after all? It shouldn't take too long to reach Angsten Wood—ten days at most, even on foot, and spend a few days proving that the entrance to the mythical city didn't exist. Katto Herra was right about one thing: drinking alone in taverns night after night was losing its charm. Draining his cup he set it down and reached for the bag of coins.

All right Mr Katto Herra, you've bought yourself an explorer. Now tell me about this artifact you must have.

The dark one spoke so softly that Jack had to lean forward to hear his words.

"First, I shall refresh your memory about the legend of the great hero, Kahraman. He and a handful of his followers commanded large amounts of territory, so the stories say. His most famous conquest occurred when he challenged the champion of Mungil to single combat. The prize at stake was the entire country. If he should emerge victorious it would be at his command, but if he lost, then his head would adorn a spike outside the gates of the capital city—which was about as far as the country extended, and probably explains why the capital was also called Mungil, but I digress. Kahraman faced the monstrous champion without fear, so the ballads tell, and defeated the giant by plunging his hand within the champion's clothing and grabbing him in such a way as to ensure his wholehearted cooperation. After Kahraman's triumphant march into the city it is said that the giant followed him around for days seeking revenge—or perhaps a rematch.

On the morning of Kahraman's last and greatest adventure, he breakfasted with his stalwart companions. They pledged to each other that they would breach the walls of Castle Schrik or die in the attempt. It was a glorious idea and certainly the stuff of legend but, unfortunately, they died in the attempt. The famous painting by Pelukis, 'The Last Breakfast' shows the table set for the meal and the utensils used by the great hero. The knife and fork are thought to have been taken by vandals and melted down to make nose rings, but the spoon just disappeared and has been ardently sought after by adventurers and collectors down through the ages. That is the artifact I must have, Mr Pepper—the legendary Spoon of Kahraman. Certain information has come into my possession that convinces me that it still exists and points me to its whereabouts.

In the lost city, I suppose.

Exactly so. Look on the back of the map where you will see only a part of the city has been drawn.

They weren't looking for a cup too, by any chance?

The painting clearly shows that the cup and plates were made of wood, and therefore have long since crumbled to dust, Katto Herra said regretfully.

Jack turned the map over.

This is well detailed, he observed. Where did you get it?

From an unimpeachable source, Mr Pepper, and that is all you need to know, Katto Herra said harshly. You may take that map; it is an exact copy of the original, which I shall keep, for it is priceless in itself, or will become so once you find the city. I have taken the trouble to ensure that the ink itself is waterproof, in case you should need to consult the map in the rain. Show it to nobody, nor admit of its existence for there are those who would stop at nothing to possess it.

I thought you said this enterprise was not dangerous, he muttered.

Why would it be dangerous if nobody knows about it?

Jack studied the maps in silence. At last he lifted his eyes from the document and shook his head.

Let me see if I have this straight. You want me to locate a missing city that nobody else has been able to find, and once I've done that I have to find one small spoon in a city that may contain thousands of spoons, or maybe none at all. How am I doing so far?

The dark hood shook slowly from side to side.

You make it sound more difficult than it is, Mr Pepper. The city is no longer lost. You and I both know where it is, and we are the only living souls that do. The spoon you must find is made of solid gold. There cannot be too many such as that, even in a city fabled for its riches. Further, you need not search the entire city, just that part shown on the detailed portion of the map, which covers a small area. You will of course need to search the city until you find the part that conforms to that piece of map. A resourceful fellow such as yourself should not find that too difficult, I am sure.

The way I see it, someone else knows the whereabouts of the city—the one who drew this map—your unimpeachable source, Jack argued. Katto Herra shook his head.

"Did I not say that we are the only living souls who know, Mr Pepper."

Jack shrugged as he folded and pocketed the map.

How do you know I won't just take the hundred silvers and run?

Because if you did you would forfeit the two hundred silvers I have set aside for you upon your successful return. Does that satisfy you?

Jack tried not to let his surprise show on his face. Three hundred silvers! This must be his lucky day.

All right, you've talked me into it. But I'll need help. I can't search that city all by myself. Assuming it's there, of course, he added quickly.

Katto Herra was silent for so long that Jack began to think he did not intend to answer.

Beware, Jack Pepper—trust nobody. Those you call friends will be friends no longer once they discover what you are about. They will bring you grief and ultimate failure. Success will pay you handsomely. This is a task best undertaken alone. But do what you will—just bring me my prize! With surprising swiftness Katto Herra rose to his feet and limped away, his fancy cane making muted metronomic thumps on the sawdust floor.

Jack Pepper sat deep in thought for a long time. At last he set a few copper coins on the board and walked out of the tavern into the dusk. Rufous, the latter of Dirt's binary suns to set, still stained the sky with its carmine glow. He wondered whether he had been taken for a fool or by a fool, but the comforting weight of the bag of silver in his pocket made the question inconsequential. It seemed the hooded man was offering a small fortune for a task requiring very little effort, but Jack was not naive enough to believe it could be that easy.

Chapter two

Bang

Who in their right mind begins a journey at this time of night? Jack grumbled to himself as he trudged panting up the cliff path. Sunsrise was hours away and traveling along this precariously narrow track by lantern light was not his idea of fun. The cliff path was a narrow trail that was quite content to stay that way and leave the heavy port traffic to an easier but much longer route. The steep and narrow way was for those who were in a hurry. Jack paused to wheeze and reflect upon how out of shape he was. Too much time spent below decks sampling the food he prepared for the ever more demanding crew of the Boomer had added a few pounds, but those would doubtless be shed before this journey was over. One of the unadvertised benefits of adventuring. Taking up his lantern again he continued his yawning way up the path.

The ground leveled off at last and the path turned south, passing through a woodlet. The light from Jack's lantern reflected from the boles of trees and caused dark shadows to march backwards as though they would creep around and come upon him from behind. Amongst these shadows an eldritch glow appeared and moved beside the path, keeping pace at Jack's side and rapidly drawing closer. Now that he was moving on the level again Jack got his second wind and quickened his pace. The will-o'-the-wisp speeded up and drew ahead, moving out onto the path with a crackle like static electricity. Two glowing arms reached out for Jack.

Whooooo!

Jack looked at the apparition sourly. He was not a morning person.

I see you got my message, he muttered. Leif the ex Dragon Hunter (deceased) grinned and fell into step beside his friend.

I would not miss an opportunity for a little excitement, he said, but your message was cryptic. What is it all about?

Jack ignored the question.

Why is it that I can contact you only at these unsocial hours? It's playing hob with my sleep habits.

"You know I try to avoid moving about the town in daylight—it upsets the warms. They turn very pale and act as though they've seen a ghost. Now, tell me about this mission you mentioned in your note."

As Jack told him he watched the shade's reaction closely. There was none.

Aren't you going to tell me I'm nuts? Aren't you going to tell me that the mythical city is just that—a myth?

Certainly not. You might decide not to go, and that would never do. Even if we do not find the lost city, the search for it will be an adventure.

We? Does that mean you're in? It may come to nothing, you know, if the map I'm carrying turns out to be a hoax; someone's misguided idea of a joke.

The shade waved a hand dismissively.

"I shall come along anyway. It matters not that we may find nothing. The searches are the best part, I have always thought. The culmination of an adventure can be quite disappointing. Take my first encounter with Dreki the dragon, now that was a big disappointment, I must say."

There's a masterpiece of understatement, Jack muttered.

My mother always told me that dragon hunting would be the death of me, but who ever listens to their mother? Leif continued as if he hadn't heard. But the searching for the dragons was most exciting. I always enjoyed the hunt. So tell me—where are we going?

Angsten Wood.

"What? Are you nuts? You cannot go in there! Do you not know that those who venture within that place are driven mad?"

Jack shrugged. Only if you go in by night. I can personally attest to that because several people have called me mad to my face since I was last in Angsten Wood. Anyway, I expect you'll be all right. It probably doesn't affect ghosts.

Leif considered that.

But the only way to find out would be for me to go there by night and see if I go mad.

True, but that shouldn't be a problem for an adventurous spirit such as yourself. Think of it as a challenge.

The faint penumbral light that filtered around Dirt from its binary suns was overpowered by Leif's spectral glow. The pair marched along by the wraith's light, heading for the Great North Road, their companionable silence broken only by the tramp of their feet on the packed-dirt road.

You could have bought a horse, you know, Leif said, breaking the silence at last. You do not have to walk all the way to Angsten Wood.

I need the exercise, Jack grumped, unwilling to admit that he would not ride where his companion was constrained to walk. Besides, it was true—he did need the exercise. A thought occurred to him.

Why are there only people ghosts? I mean, why no horse ghosts?

The ex dragon hunter shrugged.

"Who is to say that there are not? I heard a rumor once that a ghostly horse has been seen galloping on the Draugur Moor by starlight. The warms in that region bar their doors at night, so it is told."

Draugur Moor? Never heard of it. Perhaps I should put it on my list of places to visit before I die again.

Leif murmured something inaudible in a distracted sort of way. Jack glanced at him sharply.

What's wrong?

The ex dragon hunter did not reply at once. He seemed to be listening. Jack strained his ears but heard nothing but the sound of their footsteps and his own slightly labored breathing.

We are being followed, Leif said at last.

* * *

The two travelers sat close to a small campfire, not for the warmth it gave but because it provided a point of focus for their plan. Already warm from his unaccustomed exertions, Jack took off his jacket and draped it over the sticks he had set into the soft ground. For once he regretted not having a hat to set on top of the crude arrangement that at a casual glance might be mistaken for a crouching man. He stepped back into the shadows leaving the shade to wait at the fireside. Leif, for whom the warmth of a fire was nothing more than a distant memory, ignored the dancing of the flames and concentrated upon the matter at hand.

With agonizing slowness lest he make a sound, Jack climbed out along a branch of the carefully selected tree. The sturdy limb that overhung their campsite was low enough that he would probably not come to too much harm if he should fall, unless of course he fell into the fire. It had been a long time since he had climbed a tree. As a child he had raced up the tallest of forest giants, adept and careless. Now he moved trepidly, his hands atremble. That he was carrying a rock the size of a grapefruit did not help his climbing efforts at all. Satisfied that his position commanded a good view of the campsite he stopped, took a tight grip on the branch with one hand and the rock with the other, and waited. Minutes passed.

Jack's legs were growing numb. Cautiously he shifted his position to restore circulation but the relief was only temporary. Just when he began to consider abandoning his perch in favor of some less uncomfortable venue a movement below caught his eye. In the shadows beyond the firelight's reach a darker shadow flitted, coming to rest a short stone's throw from where Jack watched. As it happened, Jack had brought the stone he clutched for exactly that purpose, if the opportunity arose. The opportunity had now definitely arisen, yet he hesitated, suddenly unsure of his motive. If the rock in his hand flew true its effect could be lethal. Following someone, while definitely antisocial, is not actually a crime punishable by death, Jack reflected. With infinite care lest he make a sound, he moved back along the branch until he was almost directly above the shadowy form. Whoever it was did not seem to have noticed him. He held out the rock with the intent of dropping it on the head of the watcher below but stopped when he realized that he didn't actually know where the head was, so well concealed by the darkness was his quarry. Oh, what the hell, Jack thought, and leaped from the branch.

The dark shape squealed and the two of them tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, rolling and thrashing about till Jack managed to disengage himself from his opponent.

No hurt! No hurt! The cry came from the dark shape that now crouched by the fireside. Jack staggered to his feet and looked in amazement at the strange creature before him. Leif too, stood in astonished silence. Jack beheld a black form like nothing he had seen before, though it reminded him of something he couldn't put a name to. Leif labored under no such disadvantage.

Take care, Jack. That's a Frelsian devil. They're very dangerous. Better stand back and let me handle it.

Jack stood his ground and studied the creature. It crouched on four legs that were probably much longer than they looked, but it was hard to tell because of the mass of black hair that covered the beast from head to tail. Yellow eyes peered out from beneath a thick furry fringe. Drooping pointed ears tipped with furry tufts twitched occasionally as if questing for some sound beyond hearing. A baboon-like snout looked as though it might conceal a formidable set of teeth.

No hurt! the dark creature repeated. It crouched in apparent fear, it's long hairy arms flung up over its head. Bang not dangerous. Not dangerous at all, me. No hurt.

Leif advanced on the creature with the obvious intent of doing it no good.

Wait! Jack cried, his outflung hands, palms outward. "Just