returned her Triumph in under three minutes, and she rode out to the square. There she stood beside it, with Vlad at her side, waiting for the arrival of the White Dragons.
"I assume you have a plan, My Master?"
She took a drag from her cigarillo before removing it. "They have a rather twisted sense of honour. I plan to use that to my advantage. Somehow."
"Somehow?"
She scowled as she dropped the cigarillo on the paved ground and crushed it out with her foot. "I'm improvising as we go along, so give me a break, you tosser."
Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching motorcycles, along with whooping calls, laughter, and gleeful hollering. Moments later eleven bikes entered the square from the opposite end, ridden by spectral forms that glowed an eerie phosphorescent blue. She noted that a headless corpse rode the lead bike, but only when it got closer did she spot the head resting on top of the light between the handlebars. As the leader approached her, the rest of the Dragons fanned out, surrounded her and Vlad, and circled them, laughing, ridiculing, and heckling. He turned around and faced behind her to watch her back.
The leader stopped when the front tire of his chopper touched that of her Triumph. She examined him carefully, looking for anything that might appear solid, but except for the incandescence that surrounded him and the bike, nothing looked more or less substantial than anything else. She did, however, note the longsword attached to the side of his bike.
"I am Sir Differel Van Helsing, Director of the Caerleon Order. You have no business here. The people who had killed you and your comrades four decades ago are now themselves dead. Your revenge is complete, and there is no further need for you to return. Go back to your graves and rest in peace."
The eyes of the leader's head had stared at her the whole time, and while she found it unnerving, she dismissed it as just a coincidence given too much credence by her overactive imagination. As such, when the head grinned her heart fluttered from shock as her gut turned to ice.
"Our revenge?" It spoke, articulating its jaw as it had in life, and its voice had a weird, echoing, cackling cadence that sent chills racing up and down her spine. "It will never be finished, not until everyone in the village is dead and we have reduced it to ashes."
"Then you should know, I have placed this village and all of its inhabitants under my protection. You would do well to be content with the victory you have rather than strive after another you cannot win."
"If you wish to ally yourself with them, we will kill you instead of a villager this night, but we will return next year, and each year after that, until the village is no more."
"You are welcome to try if you can. In fact, let me make it easier." She summoned Caliburn, and pointed it at him at full arm's length. "I challenge you to single combat, sword against sword, I on my bike and you on yours."
"You challenge me? You are not worth my time or attention."
She lowered the greatsword. "Do I hear fear? Could it be that the vaunted White Dragons are cowards? Have you no knackers, or are you all just piss and wind?"
"You dare mock us?" The rest of the gang ended their circling and taunts and catcalls as they listened intently.
"Why not? You are certainly worthy of it. You claim to be the true inheritors of the Teutonic tradition of courage and honour, but I see now that's just a load of bollocks, a smokescreen to obscure your criminal actions. A true Saxon would have accepted my challenge without hesitation, not only to defend his honour and demonstrate his courage, but for the sheer joy of single combat."
"Enough! If you are so eager to die, I will oblige you. But I will make it as slow and painful as I can, as punishment for your insolence. Before I am through, you will beg me to kill you." The eyes in the head scanned up and down her body. "And perhaps I can enjoy you in other ways before your end."
He pulled out his sword and held it above his shoulders; the blue glow flashed and burned more brightly along the blade. "I accept your challenge to single combat, and let neither party leave the field of combat until the other has been vanquished."
His companions whooped and cheered as they maneuvered off to form two lines, one on either side of the square. At the same time, the leader backed away and turned to head for the far end.
Differel handed Vlad her helmet. "Do not interfere, but watch for treachery."
He nodded his head. "Yes, My Master." He followed her to the opposite end, but stood off to one side to observe the action. She mounted her bike, started it up, and balanced it, waiting for the leader to make the first move. He revved his chopper and she did the same, as if saluting each other.
Without warning, he accelerated, his back tire spinning and raising sparks until it caught the payment and pushed him forward. He waved the sword over his shoulders as the head roared a battle cry while his chopper hurtled towards her. Only moments later she twisted the throttle and pushed off, charging towards him on the side of his sword arm. She crossed Caliburn across her chest, and thanked God it was as light as it was. She hadn't become fully used to riding the Triumph yet, and she certainly hadn't planned to go into battle on it. She would have enough trouble maintaining her balance just swinging the ungodly long blade even without any extra weight.
He chopped down at her as they passed. She deflected his sword with the strong of her blade then followed through with the swing to make a backward strike at the revenant's body, trying to strike anything solid. She felt some resistance as the weak of the blade passed on through, but it contacted nothing tangible.
She tossed Caliburn away and sped for the opposite end of the square, getting far enough past the greatsword for it to disappear. She turned the fork sharply, swinging the backend around as she used a foot to steady herself and slow down. Once she faced back into the square she twisted the throttle and burned rubber to accelerate forward before summoning the weapon again. It was a cumbersome process, but she didn't have the experience or skill to try a faster, easier maneuver. At least it put her in no extra danger. When they met she once more parried his stroke, which consisted of another downward chop, and struck backwards, but again found nothing solid.
They made two more passes, but she still couldn't find anything substantial except the sword itself. She knew she couldn't keep that up forever, unlike the ghost, and she wondered if the sword might be the focus. On the fifth pass, however, fatigue force her to make the return stroke lower than she intended, and she struck the back of the chopper.
The jarring blow proved it was solid.
The shilling dropped. The bikes; the bikes are the foci!
She made her turn and roared back towards the leader. As he chopped, she ducked down and to one side, his longsword ricocheting off her handlebars. She jammed Caliburn into the spokes of the front wheel; the motorcycle flipped forward, somersaulted, and threw him off the seat. She skidded to a stop and pivoted the Triumph, pulled out her pistol, and shot at the gas tank. The chopper exploded in a glaring fireball.
"Vlad! Destroy the bikes!"
Dropping her helmet, he pulled out his two anti-material pistols and began shooting at the choppers lined up on either side. He ran up the square, firing as he went, while the revenants sped towards him to attack, but while he didn't appear to aim, each shot found a target, and the 20mm armour-piercing incendiary shells destroyed the motorcycles on contact. As each blew up, its rider disappeared like a popped balloon.
However, the leader remained. He had hit the ground rolling, and when he came to a stop he jumped to his feet and chased after Vlad, sword in one hand and head in the other.
Bloody hell, the sword must be his focus!
She holstered her pistol, revved her motor, roared towards them, and slammed into him before he could reach Vlad. The collision knocked him aside, but also threw her off her bike. She hissed as she landed heavily, but leapt up, summoning Caliburn and pulling her pistol at the same time. He had regained his feet as well and charged her. They fenced as Vlad destroyed the rest of his comrades,
but when she saw the last chopper go up, she batted his sword to one side and shot it out of his hand. She watched it clatter across the stone paving.
She turned her attention back to him, expecting to see he had disappeared. Instead, her heart seized when he loomed over her. He seized her by the throat and lifted her off her feet before she could react, throttling the life out of her, as his head laughed maniacally. She dropped both her weapons and grasped his wrist, but it felt like iron. Her breath chocked off, she kicked as her head swam and her vision clouded, but she saw Vlad appear on one side. He held one of his .55 Taurus Raging Bull backup revolvers, and he fired straight at the head. It burst like a ripe melon, and a moment later the leader's body vanished as she dropped to the ground.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position as she coughed, gasped, and choked, but her head cleared quickly. She stood up in an unsteady fashion and Vlad supported her.
"Are you all right, Master?" For once, his tone sounded genuinely concerned.
She nodded and coughed. "Yes." Her voice was horse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes." That's better. "But it was close."
She shook him off and retrieved her pistol, wavering a bit as she bent over, but her weakness diminished geometrically. She wasn't concerned about Caliburn; it would disappear as soon as she got at least six
One-Percenter Vendetta Page 4