Chapter XXVIII:
Embla vs. Carolusson
The stadium’s din was a deafening constant hum of shouts and yelps from in the spectator stands and on the camping field.
The doors to the oblisk apegift booths had opened, and one by one young men and women entered them to receive their tasks and desires as Azza and his temple devotees overwatched.
The apegift queues deformed soon into brawls, murders.
Few dared to fight back against the most vicious would-be apegifters once they had killed their fellow graduates, displayed on the telescreen to a raging applause.
“Our graduates are sure enjoying themselves,” the stadium announcer’s voice boomed again.
“Now, I see there, yes, a little man with a big stick, yes, there he is, Kurt, son of Carolus Eisenforst!
Carolus happens to be in audience with us tonight, any words of wisdom for your progeny tonight?”
“…..Don’t pfuck up, kid. Make your pa-pa proud...”
“Wonderful! I also happen to be with a special lady here, who has taken quite the interest in the story of Carolusson: Embla Duchess of Herrenhausen-South! Say hello to your fans, Duchess.”
Embla’s bright orange hair and pale face glowed on the big screen, her eyes wide, lips pursed and painted black.
Frowning she said muffled into the mic: “How’s it hangin', kiddos?”
“What a way with words…oh, tell me, is it true what they say about you and the Geissmeister? Are you two goin’ steady?”
“We’ll keep ‘em guessing, Sir Pork.”
“Well, if you ever wanna take a chance on me…I kid, I kid! Look, Kurt Carolusson is entering the arena! We now only await the word of President Claymore on the south stage to commence the graduation ceremonies!”
The telescreen turned to the face of a fat man in a tight brown suit and red tie.
“Let’s get the games going on!” he cried decapitating a wooden manikin's with a skinny silver sword.
“Great choppin', Prez! Look! Kurt Eisenforst is being led to the arena now by one of our fabulous green-glowing-gal-groupies! Of course, we saw them earlier pull up with out musical guests The Ramadam Band! Now, we wait,folks,for Carolusson's opponent: the game of the night will be Ape for a Shape! Rules are simple: haul the corpse of your hunted ape to opposite side of the field…for Kurt, he’s on the visitor’s side ‘course…now, for his ape…waiting for the announcement…yes,yes…ah! What a surprise!“
“Yeah? Tell me,Pork…," said Embla sipping a cup from a plastic straw.
“It’s you, Embla! You’re the other ape!”
Two red glowing winged creatures took Embla by the arms and lifted her up and over the stands to cat-calls and boos.
She was dropped on the arena sand, face planting from 20 feet up.
“Ouch, that’s gotta smart…now, for the game! Don’t forget to pick up some Subo Ecto-drank from the concession stands, free with any purchase over 200 marks! Now let’s get back to the action!”
+++++
“I’ve told her about your ear…she’ll aim for it,” spoke Azza’s rough voice to Kurt.
“I’m counting on you to make this a quick fight…show the crowd that you are a threat. Else they’ll eat you alive---literally.”
The spectators in the stands and around the arena quieted a bit.
Video-Drones buzzed past the faces of the two competitors, their grim faces flashing on the big screen.
“Embla!” Kurt called, his words drowned out by a spike in crowd noise.
“Make the first move,” said Azza.
“Throw down that pole and use your hands…she’s weak.”
Embla looked stunned, wiping blood from a broken nose suffered at her face-plant.
Field spectators rattled the fence around the arena, shouting and chanting:
“KILL KILL KILL.”
Embla raised an arquebus. “Embla!” cried Kurt.
A bullet flew by his ear. “Quick, Kurt! Cast the armor aside, it’s slowing you down!” Azza growled.
Another bullet collided with his chest.
“KILL KILL KILL.”
Kurt ran along the arena’s edge, winding like a rattlesnake, his feet swift, his eye on the arquebus following him.
Sir Pork’s voice boomed: “He’s on the run, folks! Still holding that heavy blade upon his back though, it seems to be slowing him down!---Oh! He’s hit! He’s hit!”
Embla lowered her arquebus.
Kurt gripped his face in agony. Drawing his hand away, blood spilled onto the arena. He winced towards Embla, 50 yards away, her figure a blur amidst the rattling sideline fence and the crowd's bloodlust.
Sir Pork gasped.
“My! Lady Herrenhausen has taken one of his eyes!”
Kurt stood, deformed, half-blind, Deathbrand pressing his hunched frame forward.
Embla raised the arquebus.
A bullet grazed his scalp,singeing hair.
Another flew into his chest. Another just below the neck. He ran closer now to her; 20 yards.
“Do it,Kurt. Slay this harlot,” Azza said in his ear. “Her next bullet shan’t miss if you hesitate.”
10 yards.
He raised Deathbrand.
Embla lifted her finger from the trigger.
The arquebus remained unfired.
Embla shook her weapon as if to fix it.
Kurt spun great Deathbrand towards Embla’s throat.
One-eyed, face painted red in blood, Kurt pushed the blade into her neck.
“KILL KILL KILL.”
“Yes! Now, now! Make your Pa-pa, proud!” Carolus said, after belching.
Embla dropped the arquebus. “Just do it…end me," she said consigned to her execution.
“…Embla…” Kurt said, his voice choked.
“…Just do it…” she repeated.
“I…”
“KILL KILL KILL.”
“Do it…it’s your last chance. You have the Eye. You can still see with it…” said Embla hushed.
“The Eye…you know?” said Kurt.
Sir Pork called from the stands: “Does our brave hero have cold feet…?? I do believe he is enchanted by the beauty of the Duchess…but we must have a victor…yes, yes, folks, I’m receiving a word from the throne of Azza, a third competitor will enter the arena now.”
“They won’t let you win, until you become one of them,” Embla said tears in her eyes,“I know you, Kurt Eisenforst…I thought it was just a dream…but I saw a world, a horrible future with few decent people left…is…is he here?”
“Who?” asked Kurt.
“Grimnar…I want to tell him some-” Sir Pork called out as she spoke: “-Now entering, from Subohemian T-screen’s hit show ‘Geissmeister on the Prowl,' that incorrigible stud from Subohemia High School: the Geissmeister!!!”
The Ramadam Band trumpeted a slow, sleazy tune.
Winged ettins lowered the hulking body of a gray skinned man, wearing only a loin cloth with a human face attached to it.
“Honey! I’m home!” he cried out, beating his chest.
“Kurt…” Embla said her eyes widening. Kurt pulled Deathbrand away from her neck, the gray man sprinting towards them, clenching a golden hammer raised to the red sky.
Kurt recognized the face at once. It was the same as the one on the big screen, sitting beside Adatmen and Azza.
The man had the same face as Eugenius Geissler.
“I’m home,” said the Geissmeister softly, his hammer swinging straight into Kurt’s heart.
+++++
Uthurs’ penitents watched as Grimnar struck his axe to the stadium’s gate.
“We need errandghosts...Damned door won’t budge!” said Grimnar slumping over on the gate,“Errandghosts can fly us up and over...”
“No,” said Uthurs, “The sentinels will shoot us down...and that’s a long way down.”
“Damn them and damn this door, I don’t care, call an errandghost!” said Grimnar.
Uthurs scratched his chin. “I have already called them.”
“When?”
“The whole time we’ve been out...”
Grimnar sighed,saying,“And no answer...we’re left to these beasts to do as they please?”
“Grimnar, you are older and wiser than nearly every man alive, yet you are speaking foolishness.”
“Fool, yes, I am and have always been, Grimm-Narr I am called by the Vargians afterall...but know this: I too have been calling, pleading for an errandghost. Between you and me, where is the response? They all have been so quiet these days...”
A croaky voice spoke from the ground. A head, its mouth dribbling black blood looked up at the men, the only remains of Orbaulker.
“They...will fail you...you will fall...I have seen what comes...Eisenforst, takes my body, my black blood as his own.
He reigns with the Unghost for 1000 years. Grimnar is betrayed by that witch, Embla Herrenhausen; dies in misery and pain.
Verity falls, Embla falls, The Weever falls, you fall, all fall down.”
Grimnar set his axe to the head, but it fled, sprouting wings and a limp body, rising to the circling sentinels.
“Damned ugly-” Grimnar cursed before halting his speech.
There stood among them, tall and regal, a horned crown twisting in an impossible intricacy for such a creature in the wild: the Bighorn sheep Buck skipped forward.
“Buck!!! Damned foolish tongue I had in despairing...you’re the one we’ve been looking for!”
Buck leapt towards the gate, his head tilted forwards, his horns driving into the arena like thorns into paper.
The gate was obliterated into a fine gray sand.
Uthurs’ men stood before the hundred thousandfold crowd, the arena, the tower of Azza looming over them all.
In the arena, the Geissmeister launched a hammer into the chest of Kurt Eisenforst, driving him 50 yards backwards.
Embla screamed.
Grimnar shouted.
The crowd cheered.
Kurt lay in the sand, unmoving.
The Geissmeister then sniffed the air and embraced Embla, kissing her on the lips.
“The champ is in the hizzaus!” he bellowed, licking Embla’s blood from his lips.
Facing the frenzied crowd, he waved, taking a bow.
Great horns burrowed deep in his bent abdomen.
The hulking body of the gray man was lifted high and dropped, crumpling into the blood marked sand.
The crowd quieted at the sight.
Buck unhooked his horns from the spawn of Eugenius Geissler, leaving him to gasp for air.
The ram pounced from the arena sand, over the heads of those queued for apegifts, leaping up the bleachers like he would traverse a mountain, and reaching its summit, smashed into a glass box filled with spectators.
Verity looked into the eyes of Buck, bowing her head.
Tears flooded her eyes.
Behind her, Arnulf of Bloodfirth pointed an arquebus.
“She’s dead if you come closer, lamb.”
Buck lowered his crown.
Arnulf opened fire, bulleting Buck in the neck.
Verity cried out as an enormous crack of thunder swallowed the sound of the barking crowd.
At the top of that stadium overlooking all Subhomemia, the eternal ram had fallen dead.