Monsters & Empire, page 33
Gray’s Magick surged, and every hair on the back of his neck rose. He knew, deep in his bones, that Ives had just said the worst possible thing. Alarm arose in the Ember from the great elephantine shadow, its rider, and from more shadows. Gray could feel them everywhere, though he hadn’t heard them move into position.
Ives’ Magick surged, and Gray’s heart stopped for a moment. The potential for freedom hung dangerously close. He scrunched his eyes shut. Fighting for the Dragon wasn’t freedom, was it? It was slavery. He blinked and felt the rage of the shadows. “Ives, don’t,” Gray warned. His superior’s derision cracked in the Ember like a whip … There was a flurry of soft thuds, a sputtering sound, and a thump.
Men carrying strange bows emerged from the trees around Gray. They raised eyebrows at Gray but didn’t shoot him.
“He’s dead now,” said the man. “We’ll help you and your people, Death. What about the other two?”
“Eh …” said the Vampire. “I think the SMASH can handle them now.” She narrowed glowing eyes at Gray. “If you try to escape, Bob will kill your friend.”
The bobcat trotted from the trees. “Really? Thank you! Thank you!”
Grendel turned to a doe. “What about survivors from Saline Landing?”
The doe came closer, with the light step of a moonbeam, her eyes dark and luminous against her tawny fur. “The SMASH there have been helping with evacuations.”
The Vampire nodded. Ember shifted. The elephant—was it wearing a cloak of Spanish Moss?—trumpeted, and the ground shook. “Death, will you ride with me?” Elsu asked. Gray’s heart stopped. Who would want to ride with Death?
“Shit, I gotta get in on this.” The swear came from the tree. Gray blinked up and saw a squirrel swish its tail.
“Hey, Fang Face,” the squirrel said. “Need an interpreter? I can speak all animal languages.”
“Please take him!” moaned a muskrat.
“Sure,” said Grendel, and held out her arm. The squirrel hopped on and Grendel and it left time.
Gray exhaled. Swearing squirrels apparently rode with Death.
He blinked. Death had vanished.
He had wanted Death.
CHAPTER 34
“They just won’t die! What is wrong with them?” The comment came from the Cyclops, manning a mortar beside Bayo and Taig. An owl sitting at the end of his weapon hooted in agreement.
What was wrong with the Revived was Bayo’s Magick. Bayo wasn’t one to let his mind spin in endless circles of self-recrimination—Grendel said that made him heroic—but his stomach churned. His fault. His fault … He ground his teeth. His fault and he would fix it.
The Ice Maker Revived stood on a bridge of iced mud that spanned the bed of the Ohio River. They wore Vampire armor and were hard to see. Only the frost spreading in icy tendrils from their feet gave away their positions. The armor also protected them from projectiles. Magickal impact resistance would fail if hit enough times with enough force. But it didn’t matter. When the Revived fell, they righted themselves and went right back to work even when they were missing limbs. The bridge was growing.
Explosions boomed on the Illinois shore as the Alliance fired on the ice bridge.
Thunderous booms from the Kentucky shore announced the launch of more mortar shells on their artillery positions. Bayo’s heart beat once … and the Ember shifted. Bayo entered the out-of-time. Madison pointed into the air, and Bayo saw the shell glinting in the starlight. Bayo let the Ember give his muscles power, leaped up, and caught it … gently. In the nearly non-existent gravity, he landed gently, too. The shell was as wide as his arm and almost as long as his leg. He tossed it in the general direction of the approaching ice way. Real-time came crashing back, and Bayo hit the dirt. The shell he’d tossed exploded in the enemy's path, spilling river sludge upward. Bayo snarled in frustration. He already knew what would happen. The hole in the riverbed would fill with water and mud. It might leave a small depression. The Ice Makers would freeze it over. The UMS tanks waiting on the other side might bounce a bit when they crossed.
Rising, he jogged back to Madison. More shells boomed from both sides, and Bayo cursed. They were fighting a defensive war because they had to. The UMS outnumbered them three to one, and they had the Revived. The UMS could afford to lose more men. They were counting on the bridge spanning the riverbed by dawn, when the Vampire Legion would be inactive. They’d roll their tanks over virtually unopposed. He glanced at Madison, leaning heavily against their fortification’s sandbag wall … Madison and Taig had reserves that Grendel didn’t have, but they’d need blood by dawn.
He glanced up the bank. In the darkness, he could just make out the fortification General Genghis occupied. General Genghis wanted to wait until the Revived Ice Makers drew closer before the Vampire Legion attacked, in order to conserve the Vampires’ strength. Bayo agreed with the strategy. Up to a point. But if they waited too long, the Vampires might be too tired to take the Legionnaires out-of-time.
And until they took out the Revived Ice Makers, the advance would continue, and while the advance continued, the general seemed determined not to divert forces to the North. The SMASH was adept enough as spies, but they would be hopeless against larger human warriors. How could they hang on with only whatever remained of the Saline Landing fort … and Grendel?
The hairs on the back of Grendel’s neck stood on end at the sound of distant artillery.
“Hang on!” Elsu said. The mammoth beneath them charged forward, trumpeting a battle cry. A small owl landed on Grendel’s shoulder. “The good news is, the embankment, dam, whatever you want to call it, is too fragile and too muddy to bring troops across.”
“What’s the bad news?” Grendel asked.
“Most of the naiads were washed downstream, and boats loaded with troops and tanks are on their way over.” With that joyful news, it took off, swooping low through the trees, spurning the treetops. In the distance, gunfire sounded, making the reason for its caution obvious.
Troops. Tanks. Grendel rubbed her temple. What could mammoths do against tanks? She looked back along the line of mammoths emerging into the forest. It was dense and jungle-like. They reached out with their trunks and snagged trees, snacking on them as they marched. Her eyes went wide. She tapped Elsu on the shoulder. She quickly explained how the UMS had flooded the Saline, and then said, “I know how you can fight them. There is no clear shoreline. They’ll have to land on the road.”
“Which road?” Elsu asked.
“That one!” Grendel said, pointing to the road the lane intersected with. “Just a little ways north of here, past the spring. They’ll be on foot, and in vehicles with wheels.”
Elsu smiled tightly. “We’ll see that they can’t land. Don’t worry.”
A crash sounded in the forest. Too close. A rumble like a dozen lawnmowers reverberated through the trees. Toskr’s fluffy squirrel tail thrashed. “Oh, fuckity-fuck-fuck-worm-ridden nuts.”
Grendel straightened and gasped as a treetop tumbled only a few yards away. They were over a mile from the Ohio River—closer to the rising Saline—but surely the Saline waters were too clogged with trees and undergrowth for a successful landing so close?
“What is that?” Elsu said.
“The UMS can’t be here?” Grendel whispered.
Toskr hopped to Grendel’s head and dug his nails into her scalp. “Acorn-rot! It’s worse than that. It’s the bad … bad … bad …”
On the trail, gray streaks low on the ground charged toward them. The lawnmower rumbled in the real world and in the Ember.
The mammoth reared and trumpeted in fear. Grendel slipped and left time. She twisted in midair, caught the squirrel, landed on her feet, and crashed back into real-time.
“Badgers!” screeched Toskr.
Grendel’s eyes widened. A dozen badgers barreled toward her—granted, not fast—but their lips curled back to reveal long teeth, their claws clicked on tiny stones, and their chests rumbled like lawnmowers.
“Should I shoot them?” Elsu asked. He’d landed beside her without slipping through time. He’d raised his Magickal bow.
“No!” shouted Grendel.
Toskr’s tail flicked in front of her eyes. “Eh … I mean … might solve some problems around here …”
“No!” said Grendel.
Behind her, mammoths shrieked and reared, making the ground shake. The badger in the lead shouted in a deep voice that sounded like it should belong to a bear. “Who flooded our dens? Was it you, you overgrown blankets? Do you think we can’t take you?”
Grendel stood slack jawed.
Toskr chittered. “The woolly-phants didn’t do it … you … you … fat weasels!”
Ducking its head, the badger roared, and its little legs churned faster.
Leaving time, Grendel grabbed a branch as thick and as long as her leg. Returning to real-time, she poked it at the charging critter … and it was as though she’d fallen into an old Tasmanian Devil cartoon. The badger blurred, and the stick disintegrated in a flurry of wood chips.
Grendel jumped back. The badger rose to its hind legs and demanded, “I got more where that came from. Bring it on, you den-swamping, thin-skinned, weak-limbed cowards! We’ll take you! We’ll take you all!”
Behind the lead badger, the other badgers growled. One shouted, “And then we’ll suck the marrow from your bones.”
“Can I shoot them now?” asked Elsu.
Before Grendel could answer, Toskr shouted, “They didn’t swamp your dens, you overgrown skunks!”
A high-pitched squeak came from the underbrush. “Hey! Don’t compare them to us!”
Toskr continued, “The UMS did it! They blocked the Ohio River, raising the earth, creating a mountain, and flooding the Saline Basin. Now they’re invading, crossing in boats. Which you would know, if you’d joined the Small Magickal Animals and Smart Herbivores!”
The lead badger growled. “Why you pretentious—”
But another badger at the back said, “Wait … the UMS flooded our dens with a dam of dirt?”
The lead badger blinked, growled, and sniffed. “I was right about the SMASH. You’re useless.”
Toskr squeaked. “We already caught three invaders. What have you done?”
The badger drew back. His jaw fell open. Grendel got the distinct impression he was embarrassed.
“We can’t let them one-up us!” shouted another badger.
More badgers hissed.
The lead badger growled and turned back to the others. They put their heads together … although not too close together. Grendel noted that no one got within mauling distance. Angry hisses and grunts came from the badger circle.
Toskr hopped from Grendel’s shoulder to her head and back.
“What are they saying?” Elsu whispered.
“They’re saying that they are nucking futts!” Toskr said.
“What does that mean?” Elsu asked. A woman had sidled up beside him. She watched the badgers and knitted.
The mammoth closest behind them stomped its foot. Artillery fire sounded in the distance. Grendel looked to the South. The Ohio River had flooded the Saline, blocking reinforcements to the North. The bulk of the UMS troops were still in the South. It had been hours. The river would be draining there … maybe already had drained.
Had the Ice Makers built their bridge? She swallowed, and her hands got clammy despite the heat. Bayo was there. Under artillery fire, in the thick of the fighting. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Her eyes slid to the badgers, and back to the woolly mammoths. Or maybe she could do something. Or at least, maybe the badgers could.
Bayo leaned against the sandbag wall, longing to attack. The Revived Ice Makers and the tendrils of their frozen mud bridge drew closer. But General Genghis still hadn’t given the order.
A shockingly chill breeze brushed against the back of his neck. He felt it even through his armor. He tasted ozone—and couldn’t decide if it was Magickal, natural, or both. Looking over his shoulder, he spied storm clouds on the Northern horizon, and rain so heavy it looked like a solid wall.
A blur of white in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A white mouse poked her nose out of a pipe set into the wall. Whiskers twitching, she declared, “Word on the RoNet that Grendel is leading the SMASH against the invaders to the North.” The Ember hummed with her pride. Bayo swallowed. Grendel was not a military commander, and the SMASH was not a fighting force.
“What?” he demanded.
His exclamation was lost in the scream of a mortar. Heart pounding, breath ragged, he turned back to the riverbed. Raising his binoculars, he studied the approaching bridge. Revived Earth Workers built fortifications along its length. They lifted river stones from the mud and reinforced them with sandbags. Other Revived lined the frozen road. They stood around the Earth Workers and Ice Makers like guards. Bayo suspected they would be the ones the Vampire Legion would be engaging. The Alliance fired shells at all of them. They fell, but invariably rose again. Although she’d lost her arms, one Earth Worker lifted rocks from the riverbed with the force of her Magick.
A chill that had nothing to do with the Icemakers’ handiwork, or the storm on the Northern horizon, swept through him. Bayo swallowed. Old Gods, what had he done?
He remembered Coyote saying that he might be the key to destroying the Revived. Cherie, the Storm King's wife, had said much the same. How could he destroy them when he was held back?
A hand landed on his shoulder. Bayo’s muscles tightened, but he didn’t jump. Taig met his eyes. Bayo couldn’t hear his words, but he read the Vampire’s lips. “It’s time.” And then Taig pulled down his cowl.
They left time and the thunder and scream of shells and gravity itself. Bayo’s relief at finally taking action soared with him as he leaped over the wall. Reaching for the hip opposite his sword, he pulled out a different weapon and glanced down the riverbank. All along the former river edge, members of the Vampire Legion did the same. They slipped out onto the muddy, puddle-pocked bottom of the former river. If they hadn’t been out-of-time, they would have sunk in the mud.
The Vampires fell behind their human partners. That was by design. Pulling the humans through the out-of-time tired them. But more than that, without the Vampires, there was no out-of-time, and the out-of-time was one of the few advantages the Alliance had. The UMS could utilize the out-of-time, but the Alliance controlled it.
Ahead of them, perhaps 250 yards from their current position, the Revived stood, frozen in real-time. The Vampire Legion was not close enough. Not yet. The distance closed. Bayo looked back. Taig lifted his hand and made a few quick gestures. Down the line, the other Vampires repeated the same gesture. Wait, they were saying, not yet. Bayo nodded and signaled that he understood and walked across a deep puddle, its surface smooth as glass. His footsteps didn’t even leave ripples. Ten paces and ten paces more, he shifted the weapon of choice in his hands, and drew to a halt. The Vampire Legion took up positions in a lopsided U, just beyond the radius of the Revived’s armor’s effective range. Bayo was on the leftmost flank of the circle. On the right flank, and about twenty paces to Bayo’s right, stood Eclason and Madison. Bayo knew that only because they planned it that way. He could not see his friends’ faces. He barely saw his friends. The faint outline of reflective tape on fingers was all that gave them away. Eclason signaled. Behind him, Madison repeated it. Bayo checked over his shoulder and saw Taig’s confirmation. He looked to his right. Trent, at the bend in their U, repeated the signal, as did his Vampire partner.
On three …
Two.
One.
Eclason and Bayo charged toward the bridge, weapons ready, the Vampires following at a safer distance behind them. Bayo felt more than saw the instant the Revived in Vampire armor registered their approach. It was a slight shift in the Ember, awareness without fear, anger, or emotion. Swords came out.
Eclason and Bayo leaped at nearly the same instant. At the apex of their leaps, they released nets … time resumed. The nets plummeted. Eclason and Bayo’s trajectories shifted, gravity pulling them faster, the momentum gained in the out-of-time dangerous. They were ready for the shift. The Revived were not, and they wavered on their feet. Nets fell on them, tangling with their arms and weapons, obstructing their view and causing chaos. The Ember shifted again. Bayo slipped into the out-of-time and touched down lightly on the opposite side of the ice bridge, just as Trent and the other members of the Legion charged forward to hack at the captured Revived before they untangled themselves.
Bayo tasted cold, glanced toward the edge of the bridge spreading toward the Alliance shore … and cursed. He couldn’t see the bridge inching forward, but the taste of cold in the air told him it still was. Some of the Ice Makers might be in the net, but being netted wasn’t slowing the advance. They’d keep building the bridge until they were incapacitated. Heads chopped off or bodies exsanguinated, preferably both. Both were hard with the armor on. Trent and the others would have to see to that.
Bayo jogged forward a few steps to where Madison waited, another net in his hand. The Vampire’s feet shuffled in his exhaustion. He passed the net off to Bayo, and Bayo altered course, charging diagonally toward the bridge and the oncoming line of Revived. On the other side of the bridge, Eclason did the same, signaling the countdown … and then they crashed back into real-time instead of soaring into the air and sank into mud. Revived raised weapons at the bridge’s edge. The out-of-time returned a second later. Bayo looked over his shoulder and saw Madison gritting his teeth and lurching forward. He also saw Trent and other members of the Legion hacking at the netted Revived. How many had they captured? At least fifty, which meant each Vampire was pulling at least two humans through the out-of-time. How had Grendel once described “pulling” him through the out-of-time? “It’s like a weight on my non-existent soul,” she’d said, tone tart with sarcasm. Grendel believed she had a soul, and that it was just stuck. Bayo believed it now, too. Their souls needed blood.
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