"Primo!" Spyder yelled. "Come on!" An angelic sword slashed at Spyder. He fell back, his arm scorched, his vision blurred by the flaming sword. When he could see straight again, Spyder saw Primo, swollen to his fighting size, spikes slick with blood. He was burned and bleeding; dead angels lay all around him. An angel in Primo's grip fought weakly as he strangled it. Another angel dropped down from the overhead lines, slicing off Primo's right arm. The little man screamed. Spyder, Apollyon's knife out, felt the blade nick a rib as he buried it in the chest of the angel who'd cut Primo. The little man picked up his severed arm, then with Spyder's help, they stumbled to the black flier, grabbing on as the seahorse groaned and slid toward the ocean in flames.

Spyder pushed into the flier's cramped cabin, but Primo, in his exaggerated fighting form, was too big to fit through the opening. He crouched on the wing and held onto the canopy with his good arm as the flier dropped below the battle. And kept dropping.

"We're too heavy," said the pilot.

"There's land ahead," Primo yelled.

Through the breaking clouds, an island was spread out in the cold sea. The pilot struggled with the controls, circling toward a stretch of open beach. Spyder held onto Primo as best he could, while Lulu huddled against Shrike. The pilot yelled something, but all Spyder could hear was the white noise hiss of the wind as it shrieked into the cabin. The beach came up fast. The pilot pulled back on the wheel. They bounced once and there was a snapping sound as the wings came off, taking Primo with them. The flier nosed down and dug into the sand and that was the last thing Spyder remembered for what felt like a very long time.

Twenty Six

My Enemy's Enemy

"Shit," said Spyder.

"A quote from Pere Ubu," Lulu said. "Guess you're all right, cowboy."

Spyder opened his eyes. He couldn't sit up or quite focus on any one object. He recognized Lulu's blur because he'd seem that before in plenty of bars. A blur that might have been Shrike left what was probably a campfire and came to where Spyder lay.

"How are you feeling?" asked Shrike.

"Alive. Gangbanged by gorillas."

"It was a hard landing."

"A soft crash is more like it," said Lulu.

"But everyone made it," Shrike said.

"It's hard to breathe," said Spyder.

"You may have broken some ribs," said Shrike. "Count Non did a healing spell on you, but it's still going to hurt for a few days."

"Count who?"

"Count Non," said Lulu. "The flyboy who saved us. He's the coolest. Wait till you see his weapons collection. I already almost cut off a finger playing with his shit."

"How about Primo? He fell off the wing."

"See for yourself," said Shrike. "Can you sit up?"

With Shrike and Lulu's help, Spyder managed to sit upright in the sand. Every breath was an adventure in pain. He gasped and took shallow breaths. That helped. Over by the fire, Primo sat, his injured shoulder wrapped in a clean bandage. He was drinking with a tall man dressed in leather and chainmail. The stranger had a scarred but darkly handsome face and eyes that shone intensely in the fire light. He nodded at Spyder. Primo turned and smiled when he saw Spyder awake.

"Good to see you up, sir! Thank you for your help off the ship!"

Spyder tried to shout back, but his ribs spasmed and he couldn't get the breath to shout. He gave Primo a pained smile and little wave. The stranger, Count Non, raised his glass at Spyder.

"I've seen that guy before," said Spyder.

"Yes, he said he knew you, too," said Shrike.

"He doesn't know me. We just saw each other at the weird market with the Sphinx. How did he end up near our ship?"

"He was coming to knock us out of the sky."

"Nice guy. He said that?"

"Yes."

"A snappy dresser and honest as a preacher. Sexy," said Lulu. "Why can't I find a girl like that?"

"Why is he still here if he came to bury us?" asked Spyder.

"Because I changed my mind," said Count Non.

Spyder's senses clearly weren't hitting on all cylinders yet. He hadn't even seen the Count coming over.

"You need to move around or those muscles will stiffen up. Let me help you," Count Non said, reaching down and effortlessly lifting Spyder to his feet. It hurt like hell to be upright, but Spyder swallowed the pain. He didn't dare let go of the Count's shoulder as the man walked him slowly to the fire.

"How's the arm, Primo?" asked Spyder. "Or, well, you know what I mean."

The little man smiled and turned to let Spyder see his empty sleeve. "Like you, I'm a bit sore, but the Count has an extensive knowledge of healing magic. And it's hard to kill us Gytrash."

"Lucky for us," said the Count. Spyder watched the little man smile broadly. It was weird, but the Count had that kind of air about him. Spyder wasn't sure what it was, but the man's title fit him. Somehow, he seemed regal. There was a weight to his presence that was oddly compelling. Spyder turned back to him.

"You look better without the make-up," he said.

Count Non chuckled. "You think so? If I'd known I wasn't flying right back to civilization, I would have packed it. My scars bother some people."

"I think they're cool," said Lulu.

"Thank you."

"What do you do, Count. When you aren't trying to kill us?" asked Spyder.

"Don't be rude," whispered Shrike.

"It's all right," said Count Non. "He's right to feel uneasy, being saved by his executioner. I was all set to kill you, especially when I saw you dealing with that pig prince of the Erragal clan. Then I saw the Brotherhood attack your ship and knew that we were on the same side."

"What side is that?" asked Spyder. "I didn't even know there were sides."

"The Brotherhood is scared enough of your expedition to try and stop you, and that's good enough for me," said Count Non. "`On mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise.'"

"I'll drink to that," said Lulu, picking up a glass.

"The Count is coming with us," said Shrike. "We can use the help, getting where we need to go."

"He's on our side now? Okay, asshole, who paid you to get us?"

"I was hired by the Wizard's Guild. I wasn't told why, but I understood that you were about to acquire something that would upset the balance of magical power in all the Spheres."

"So, you're some kind of magician union buster?"

"The Brotherhood doesn't believe in magic, but is more than willing to use it to its own ends. As we all recently witnessed. I knew then that whatever you were up to could only weaken them. The wizards will just have to sort out their business themselves."

"Just like that?" asked Spyder. "You're not afraid of a whole army of pissed-off magicians?"

"I have my own sources of power and protection," said count Non.

"Like me, the Count is royalty without a country."

"No quite," he said. "We're far from conquered. I'm traveling all the Spheres looking for help."

"How? By working as a merc?" said Spyder.

"What better ways to meet other warriors and adventurers such as yourselves?"

"Spyder, listen to me," said Shrike. She sat beside him in the sand and put her hand on his shoulder. "You've been unconscious for a full day. And the Count and I have been talking. I believe him. Please trust my judgment on this. I want him to come with us."

Spyder reached out to where Lulu was pouring drinks from a leather sack with a bone spout. She poured a glass of amber liquid and handed it to him. Spyder took a pull and felt the liquor burn where sand had scoured the back of his throat.

"Fuck every single little bit of this," said Spyder. He rubbed his temples. "So, where the hell are we?"

"We made it to Kher-aba, the right island to get to the Kaslan Mountains," said Shrike. "But we're on the wrong side."