Free The Kingdoms of Evil by Daniel Bensen Page A

"I shall call out to the Do-Gooders my lord can see both before and behind us. And these men will shoot my lord. Now," she continued as Freetrick let the leash fall out of his fingers. "My lord will enter the carriage, that we may be gone."
    There was nothing he could do but obey.
    The transport spheres did indeed fail quickly as they moved further up the mountains into Between. Through the screen, Freetrick saw the lead one peel off, flickering and stuttering at the edge of its range, and pass them in the opposite direction. The other would no doubt follow. Their Proctor escort was going home, and now would be a great time to escape, if the Futon wasn't clamped back around his waist.
    Freetrick squinted out the window, trying to think. His next best chance to escape, maybe his only chance to escape, would come soon. As they moved deeper into Between and word-magic failed, Naobel's blessing would take over. That was a magic specifically made to stop monsters. If they passed a road-side wheel-stone or a local with an amulet, Freetrick could call out the name of the god, and the Blessing would take out Mr. Skree, the carriage, and the Futon---kill the monsters or at least cause enough pain and confusion that Freetrick could escape.
    All he had to do was wait for the border.
    ***
    " This is the border?" It was full night, and Freetrick couldn't see worth a damn anyway, but he was sure he ought to be able to recognize something from out of the stories. There was no wall, white stone, not even a ditch or a line of barbed wire. All there was, was a utilitarian concrete shack, a flag, and a flat place in the road. "Where's the wall? Where are the Paladins? Where is the striking Keep ?"
    Freetrick flinched backward as a shape like a half-melted candle dripped off one of the carriage's eves and unfurled into the wings and head of Mr. Skree. "Allow this insignificant pustule to express his sympathy with the disappointment of the Lord of Chaos. It is an insult that the Rationalist scum guard their borders so negligently."
    "…Yes," said Freetrick.
    "And when," rasped Mr. Skree, "can we expect to obliterate them utterly?"
    "…soon?" said Freetrick.
    "Very good, Malevolence."
    There was a pause.
    "Can I…get out?" asked Freetrick.
    "No." Bloodbyrn slapped the quivering monster that covered his knees. "There will be no need for you to leave the carriage, my lord. Mr. Skree will take care of all the details."
    Freetrick winced, wondering exactly how those details were to be taken care of. "Mr. Skree," he said, "don't kill them."
    "As the Sovereign of Pestilence commands." Mr. Skree's voice contained no hint of emotion.
    "I shall announce our presence, my lord, by your leave." Bloodbyrn did not wait for Freetrick's leave, but rapped against the floorboards with what sounded like an extremely hard shoe. The monster under them bellowed out a cry of pain and bewilderment that echoed off the mountain peaks.
    The echoes died, and there was a crash from inside the hut, then a voice.
    "God of words strike it out, shut up out there! You can striking well wait until I find the striking record plate!" There was another crash, much louder than the first, with an added percussion of small objects hitting walls. "And the struck-out thrice-erased striking writing stylus! Swen! Swen, you gibbering useless ogre, where's the striking stylus? Oh—"
    A door slammed in the gloom on the other side of the station. "Just get out here!" A figure rounded the corner of the small building and strode down the dirt path to the road. It flicked an angry left hand out and light flared, revealing a narrow, bent figure in the brown jerkin of a Proctor of The Rationalist Union. "Striking idiot boy. And if you think I don't know you use the styluses to clean your ears with…eh?"
    The guard stopped, the light over his head suddenly bright on the squeaking carriage.
    Oh please, thought Freetrick, oh please, god of words, let this man not be the deranged old grandpa he