SLING

Rod Lousteau

It was late afternoon when Sling arrived. He crouched and examined the clearing from the forest underbrush. All day, as he neared this place, his senses told him evil had

erupted here, and now he looked for the evidence. He found it. On the other side of the clearing was a large oak tree with spreading branches like thick arms. From one of them

dangled a trio of figures, each secured by the neck with sturdy rope. Man, woman, child, or so it appeared from his vantage point. And something else: a dog. A big, brown dog, sitting motionless on the ground, staring up at the three.

Wisp was murmuring in his head: No one else around. The killers are long gone.

Sling stood up, adjusted his pack and moved out into the clearing. Stocky and muscular, his blondish hair was pulled back and tied at the neck. He wore a sleeveless,

thigh-length leather tunic. The wide belt encircling his waist held a short sword, knife and slingshot. He strode toward the hanging tree, keeping an eye on the dog. A big, lithe animal with powerful jaws, potentially dangerous. Twenty yards away, the dog looked in his direction, a deep growl rumbling in its throat.

"Easy, boy," Sling said in a soothing tone. "We are only here to help."

He tried to mentally access the dog's brain, but it seemed too primitive. Nothing there that he could identify as sentient. Some dogs had a little of it; most didn't. He did locate a growing cloud of alarm and was able to disperse it. The dog seemed to relax.

Under the tree, Sling gazed up at the three. Their contorted faces showed the agony they had endured while, no doubt, their killers laughed and joked, waiting for them

to stop rope-dancing. He had to get them down and into the ground.

Look around, he thought to Wisp. See if you can establish who did this.

As the dog watched intently, he located a ladder on the ground, obviously the same one the killers had used to get the ropes up to the tree limb. Sling fixed it in place, climbed up and carried down the three one by one, the child last, a boy of around ten. Was the boy worth resurrecting? Could any images of the murder be salvaged? Sometimes children could be revived long after apparent physical death if the brain had gone into stasis. Final images could be extracted, even if full resurrection wasn't always possible or desirable. He probed the boy's mind and found only blankness.

Best not to try, Wisp said. He seems to be too damaged. The trauma must have been enormous.

Sling examined the three as they lay before him. The woman, reasonably attractive, showed signs of rape, blood streaks on her legs. This was a sturdy peasant family who wanted only to live in peace and make a living from the crops they grew. They didn't deserve a fate like this.

I t was Modoc, Wisp said. He and four others. The same ones we have been tracking. Their essence is all over the area. They stopped here early today for a little sport. Shovel? There is one in the dwelling.

Sling retrieved the shovel and began digging a hole. He went down about four feet and when the hole seemed big enough, he stopped. He looked at the dog.

"This is it," he said. "Better say goodbye to your friends."

The dog seemed to understand. He went first to the man, then the woman, finally the boy. He licked the boy's face. Then he threw up his head and issued a long, mournful howl that drifted through the forest like smoke.

"I know," Sling said. "I have lost friends, too."

* * *

Later, after he and the dog had eaten, he made a fire and sat facing it. The dog lay a short distance away, watching him.

Tomorrow Sling would continue his pursuit of Modoc. He suspected they were headed for the Borradel Festival. There he would confront and arrest the five, hold a trial, and, hopefully, execute them. Sling was what was known as a Justice Warrior, employed by the central government to bring justice to isolated regions such as this one. His companion, Wisp, was an invisible wraith, a disembodied mind fragment of a type thought to be created from human psyches at the moment of death. Sling was well aware that Justice Warriors with such companions were fortunate, because wraiths were good company and invaluable in many, many ways. They could read minds, but could affect behavior only through emotions.

Sling leaned back and closed his eyes.

Good night, Wisp said. I will keep watch as usual.

Thought you would. Tomorrow will be an important day. Are you ready?

I am always ready, Wisp said.

* * *

Early next morning, Sling took off at a steady trot. He could keep it up all day and still have energy left at evening. Overall, he covered more ground than on horseback and didn't have to worry about food and water for the horse. He had wondered what the dog would do and found that the animal followed him willingly, staying at his heels, mile after mile. Wisp kept going ahead and returning, keeping him informed, feeding him images of Modoc and his men so he would know them by sight.

They are nearly at the festival, Wisp said. Modoc should be there by noon . We will arrive two hours later.

And they did. The sounds of the festival had been audible miles away, music and laughter and cries of people snatching pleasure from the many sources offering it. As Sling walked among the milling crowd, he saw musicians and clowns and jugglers and sword-swallowers, all in colorful costumes and competing for attention with their various specialties. Vendors and merchants were hawking their wares, and there were games of chance, feats of strength and displays of rare animals. Wine and other strong drink flowed in copious quantities. And, ah, the women. All shapes and sizes, lovely and sensuous, disturbing to behold. One was a tall red-haired wench with a delicious body, well displayed in a low-cut blouse and a full skirt she seemed eager to lift. Or perhaps that was only his imagination at play. Sling caught her eye from thirty feet away and flashed her a smile. She returned it.

With effort, he turned his mind to the business he had come to conduct.

He found the magistrate in his tent and asked for a conference. The magistrate also worked for the central government, so was a kindred soul. The man listened

carefully to Sling's story, nodding his white head at salient points. When Sling finished, the magistrate closed his eyes and kneaded his forehead with one hand.

"Very sad," he said. "I agree that justice must be served. But there are problems."

"Which are?" Sling said.

"Modoc is well known around here. He is a lawless scoundrel, but still liked by many. You know you will need the people behind you. They must agree that he did the

crime and is to be punished. So you will need strong evidence. Do you have such evidence? Are images available?"

"No images. I have a small amount of physical evidence: a dropped knife, some rope. My wraith can attest that Modoc's essence was spread around the area."

"You need more. The people are here to have a good time and will be impatient with anything less than an overwhelming case. You are Sling, and your reputation for

integrity is unquestionable, so I believe you. But it is the people you must convince. You need more than you have."

"But what I have is what I have."

The magistrate smiled. "You are an intelligent man, Sling. You are clever. Go and think about this. Think about how you can make the case stronger--much stronger. Find a way. Then come back and see me."

Sling knew two things: the magistrate was right; and he needed images of the hangings. He went into the forest to confer with Wisp.

But it would be sacrilege to disturb the boy! Wisp said. Even if it is possible to get anything from him at this late time, which probably is not.

We must have the images. Or Modoc will go free.

How can he go free? We know he killed them!

Of course. But we have to convince the people. Sling leaned against a tree and looked away. We must at least try to get the images.

Too much time has passed! The boy is dead. His brain is decaying. We are a half day away. By the time we return --

You can be there in seconds, Sling thought.

Me? Alone?

A few feet of dirt is not a problem for you. You can get through and retrieve whatever is available. He was the last to be hung. He watched his father and mother strung up. There may be something still there. Even a single fragmented image would help.

The dog, lying at Sling's feet, growled as though he understood.

I am leaving, Wisp said finally.

Go! Sling thought impatiently. But he shielded his mind so Wisp couldn't hear.

* * *

Two hours later, Sling was concerned. Wisp had not yet returned. Where was he? What was keeping him? Safety was certainly not an issue. The wraith moved with the speed of thought, so should have been back long before.

Fuming, Sling wandered aimlessly through the festival. He occasionally caught sight of Modoc and his men and badly wanted to get their trial underway. If he had to wait until tomorrow . . . anything could happen. The festival was near the border of another district, and if Modoc slipped across the border, jurisdictional disputes could protect him from capture.

Where was Wisp?

Suddenly the wraith was there. I am back, he murmured.

Sling took a deep breath. The images?

Well, actually, I have more than that. I have the boy himself.

The boy? The boy is dead! You brought back a body?

Let me explain, Wisp said. When I got into the boy's mind, I found the unexpected. He was in full stasis. An unusually strong, resilient young mind ready for resurrection. The first stages of stasis are sometimes masked by vacuity, which is why he appeared beyond repair yesterday. It was close, because another hour or so in the ground would have finished him for good. But I located two men and, ah, filled them with curiosity about his grave. They dug him up and he is a half-hour from here right now. Somewhat weak, but fully resurrected. I also have all the images you could possibly want.

Not bad, Sling thought. You did well.

Thank you.

Let me know when the boy arrives.

* * *

Sling's mood had improved immensely. He lost no time informing the magistrate. Sling then took charge of some twenty of the magistrate's men, surrounded Modoc and his four ruffians and made the arrest. Modoc was obviously astounded--and enraged. There was a moment when Sling was certain the man would resist, but Modoc didn't appear to be an idiot and wasn't suicidal, so reluctantly surrendered his arms. Sling had the five placed in chains and brought to the open yard for trial. At one end stood a large scaffold where those condemned to hang were executed. A large, curious crowd followed and encircled the area.

The magistrate opened with a brief description of the charges against the men and turned the trial over to Sling.

"My friends," Sling said, addressing the people, "my name is Sling, and I am a Justice Warrior. These five men yesterday attempted to kill a family of three by hanging

them. They succeeded with two, a man and his wife. Their son was a young boy who we managed to resurrect. We will use him to show you the images of this murder and let

you decide for yourselves whether these five are truly guilty."

The boy has been cleaned up and is ready, Wisp murmured to Sling.

Sling signaled for the boy to be led forward and placed in a chair. The dog followed closely. The two had had a joyful reunion a short time earlier, and the dog wasn't about to leave his friend's side. The crowd murmured. Sling was pleased at how this was turning out. What could be more sympathetic in a case like this one than a boy and his dog? The child was a handsome young fellow with dark hair and steady eyes, and he impressed the crowd with his calm demeanor. The dark bruise of the rope was clearly visible around his neck. Sling went to him, touched his head and quickly put him in a trance. He needed to pull the images from the boy's memory and didn't want him to relive the trauma of the previous day.

He extracted the first image and mentally projected it to a large white cloth strung between two trees. Slowly, as he focused, the scene of Modoc and his men swam sharply

into view on the cloth as they held the woman down and brutally used her for their

pleasure. Her husband, tightly bound and forced to watch, yelled and struggled to break free.

Angry noises issued from the crowd.

The next image showed the woman and man being hanged from the tree, their feet flailing about in a ghastly dance as they slowly strangled.

Then the boy.

By now the onlookers were agitated, both men and women furiously shouting and gesturing toward Modoc. Sling knew they were mostly uneducated peasants, but with a strong sense of justice and no difficulty imagining themselves and their families being treated so mercilessly. Sling made ready to ask for conviction and execution. But a shout rang out.

It was Modoc. He stepped forward in his chains.

"This is all trickery!" he cried. "I challenge the Justice Warrior! I demand a fight within the circle!"

Sling cringed inwardly. He had fought many times within the circle, and had no fear of Modoc, but he knew this was a play for time. The afternoon shadows were lengthening, and if Modoc could extend the proceedings until darkness fell, new variables would enter the picture. Modoc might be able to summon a band of men from across the district border for a rescue effort in which people would surely die. But Sling also knew he couldn't deny the challenge. And if Modoc won, he and his men would be freed. It was based on the ancient tradition that the gods always protect righteous men in battle. Sling had seen many righteous men fall in battle, so he had no illusions about the tradition's validity. But the peasantry did, which was all that mattered.

"Does the Justice Warrior accept?" demanded Modoc. "Or is he afraid?"

Sling raised his right fist. "I accept," he said.

* * *

I cannot get into his mind, Wisp said. It is shielded in some manner. This is not starting off well. I am concerned.

So was Sling, standing inside the circle, which was twenty feet in diameter and marked with white dust. The rules were simple--anything was permissible within the circle, but step or fall on the line, or outside it, and you lost. Sling drew his short sword and inspected the blade. He looked at Modoc with his broadsword and knew that this longer weapon was definitely an advantage within the circle if used to keep the two combatants apart. The short sword was best for close combat. Besides, Modoc was a tall, strong fellow and no doubt a vicious fighter. The primary things that Sling had going for him were training and experience. Justice Warriors were proficient in every weapon known to humankind, and Sling, especially, was a veteran of countless fights against fiendishly proficient foes.

Still, that didn't guarantee him a victory within the circle. Each fight was different, with its own individual characteristics.

Why couldn't Wisp access Modoc's mind?

A horn sounded and the fight began. The two moved cautiously along the inside edge, searching for the other's weaknesses. Sling tried a mental probe, but, like Wisp,

couldn't penetrate. Modoc lifted his sword and swung it toward Sling, who read it as a leftward sweep. But the blade sliced forward and downward instead, missing Sling by a hair as he leaped back. Sling realized that Modoc had fed him false intentions. He decided to return the favor. Feinting with his sword, he deliberately projected a forward thrust, then chopped right instead. Modoc surprised him by easily blocking the move. As sword clanged against sword, Sling realized that Modoc had clearly read the entire tactic.

His opponent was a mind fighter . Not necessarily a good one, but far more dangerous than without that skill. Modoc, however, had made a mistake.

His two maneuvers, one offensive, one defensive, had employed protective resources, leaving a small mental passageway unguarded. Sling slipped in and widened it with a burst of energy until he could go no farther. Both men froze in position. Neither could proceed as Modoc desperately protected his mind from Sling's incursion, while Sling ground away at Modoc's defenses.

To onlookers, nothing was happening. Mind fighting was invariably boring to watch. The two stood motionless, legs spread, muscles taut and straining, short sword against broadsword. Sling could lock his joints and hold the position for days, if necessary. Eventually, Modoc would crumble. But it wasn't strategically feasible to take that long.

Wisp confirmed this a few minutes later.

The crowd grows restless, he whispered. They want action.

Crows were in the trees, and Sling was mildly surprised when five or six of them flew down and raucously tried to attack his head. He knew that Modoc had directed them--a common trick among mind fighters to distract opponents. One could never afford to be distracted. Sling filled the crows with panic and sent them on their way. Another three minutes passed. Sounds of impatience from the crowd grew louder. Sling knew he had stretched things to the maximum. He would have to break off and try another strategy.

Then he remembered the dog. Would the dog respond to him?

Dog, he thought as forcefully as possible, I need your help. Come! He tried to make the commands crackle inside the dog's head. He didn't know how the animal would react, but it was worth the effort.

He waited. Dog! he thought. Come!

A moment later, the big brown dog rose from his spot beside the boy, shook himself, and walked toward the two men. It stopped in front of Modoc. Then, powerful jaws quivering with rage, the dog curled his lips and issued a fearsome slobbering snarl that silenced the onlookers.

And obviously struck horror into Modoc. Unable to read Modoc's mind, Sling could tell from the man's expression exactly what he was feeling. Between his spread legs, his family tree and jewels had been tightly girded for the fight. The dog's dripping jaws were now close to the bulge where those items were concealed. Modoc knew the layers of fabric covering them were no more protection than spider silk if this beast chose to emasculate him. No man wanted to lose his private valuables in such a manner.

Again the dog snarled.

Modoc curled his eyes downward toward the animal. "Away!" he tried to say, but the words croaked in his throat.

It was enough for Sling. Modoc had lost focus, his mind opening up like a sponge, and Sling darted in with ease. Flooding Modoc with confusion, Sling snatched the broadsword as it dangled loosely and kicked the man backward out of the circle. As he did so, he laid his sword lightly across his foe's thigh to draw blood, but that was for the benefit of the audience. No one liked bloodless sword fights. Modoc crashed to the ground in disarray as the crowd roared with laughter.

Sling signaled for the magistrate's men, and Modoc was hustled off. The Justice Warrior stepped forward and got the crowd's attention, then asked for conviction. They eagerly gave him approval. Then he asked for execution. And received approval. Then he suggested death by hanging.

The people roared their agreement. What other punishment fit the crime so well as hanging those who had wantonly hanged others? But suddenly the roar turned into

surprise and frustration.

Modoc! Wisp said. He has commandeered a horse!

Modoc had used his mental powers to bewilder his captors, then leaped on a saddled gelding and now was galloping up the road and away from the festival. Less than a quarter mile away lay the border of the adjoining district.

Sling found he could not penetrate Modoc's mind, nor that of the horse. Modoc was shielding both.

Hurry! Wisp said. He is escaping!

Calm yourself, Sling thought. He only appears to be escaping.

He reached for his slingshot. In a single fluid motion, he extracted and loaded it with a small metal marble. He pulled back hard and released. At first it appeared that he had aimed too low, but that was an illusion. The projectile sped toward Modoc and his

horse--and with surgical precision flew up the horse's behind. The gelding's reaction was instantaneous. It frantically skidded to a halt and went into an insane routine of jumping and twisting and rearing that was impressive to watch, but definitely bad for the rider.

Modoc was a fine horseman, but not that fine. Flung skyward, he landed spread-eagled on a grassy patch. He didn't remain there long. His survival instincts bounced him to his feet, and he took off running. A capable runner, his long legs propelled him forward at a rapid clip. He looked as though he still had a chance to make the border, even without the horse.

Sling let loose another missile. This one caught Modoc behind the left ear and toppled him like an uprooted tree.

Sling personally fetched Modoc and escorted him to the scaffold, along with his four men. The Justice Warrior prepared the nooses carefully, and soon the five were hanging from the crossbeam as their souls drifted away toward the hereafter. Their necks had snapped cleanly, bringing swift death, and none had danced more than a twitch or two. Far better than they deserved, but a Justice Warrior couldn't sink to the level of such scum. That would be retribution, not justice.

What, exactly, is the difference? Wisp wanted to know.

Sling ignored him.

* * *

He found an older couple who was happy to give the boy and dog shelter for the night. Tomorrow he would think about a permanent home for them. As they left, Sling reached down to pat the dog's head.

"Good boy," he said.

I do not think he likes to be called boy, Wisp said.

How do you know that?

I have gotten into his head a bit. An interesting animal. Far smarter than I thought at first. He learns very quickly.

And what has he learned?

Not to trust strangers, for one thing. Yesterday, Modoc toyed with him, giving him mind commands and sending him off into the forest to look for deer. When he returned, his family was dangling from the tree. He now has a crude way of shielding himself that works nicely. Your commands had difficulty getting through. But I helped them along.

You are indeed a prize, wraith.

The crowd was still dispersing, and Sling saw the red-haired woman standing by a tent across the way. Their eyes met. She was waiting for him.

Waiting? How do you know that? Wisp asked. Her mind is chaotic! I cannot make any sense of it.

Stop trying, Sling said.

You are drawn to women with chaotic minds?

I prefer the word inscrutable, meaning it defies understanding. Nothing is more inscrutable than a female mind--especially if the female is in heat. And nothing is more exciting.

Interesting. May I accompany you this time?

Accompany me?

Get into your head. Listen to your thoughts. Read your instincts and reactions. I want to understand this attraction between the sexes. I want to enjoy it with you.

Only if you can remain silent. Become noisy and I will shield you out.

I definitely will be silent.

In the gathering dusk, Sling hitched up his belt and walked toward the woman. Watching her long hair ruffle in the breeze and dance about her white shoulders, he allowed his anticipation to grow. This promises to be very intense, he thought to Wisp. Are you certain you are ready?

I am always ready, Wisp said.