by Jordan, G R
Beyond the animal freak show was a sight that chilled Kirkgordon’s blood. Hanging by his hands, tied with a rope hooked around a weather vane on the roof, was Havers. His pain was obvious as he tried to lift himself up and not merely dangle. Underneath, taunting him, was Tania, now dressed in a black garment covered in symbols.
“He doesn’t look in a good way,” said Nefol.
“No,” replied Kirkgordon. “Bring your father and Austerley up here. We move now!”
The Battle of Gibbet Point
Wilson exited the manhole of the sewer ahead of Jane Goodritch and scanned the street while lending a supporting arm. Jane breathed deeply, trying to expel the stench of the underground route from her too-sensitive nostrils.
“Did we really have to travel via the sewers?” asked Jane.
“Well, Miss Goodritch, many of the bizarre creatures we have seen recently have wings, as does Farthington himself. This was a way of keeping our intentions hidden. Hopefully the dragon doesn’t know we’re on to his shield device,” explained Wilson.
“So it should be plain sailing.”
“Never say that, Miss Goodritch.”
“Why? And you can call me Jane, by the way.”
“Well, Jane, Farthington will know that if we can disable his shield he’s going to have a bucketful of SETAA agents on to him and possibly the boys from the military too. I don’t see him risking that without having some sort of protective device around it.”
“Good job we brought some extra weapons then.” Jane held her machete pair aloft. Explorer blood was pumping in her veins and she was ready to take a stand for the good and the decent. In moments like this, on the move, Jane believed she could do this forever. But deep within she was haunted; there were moments when everything stopped and the true horror of it all sunk in.
Wilson was the picture of professionalism, pointing out the safe direction to Jane before breaking ahead to assess the next blind spot. From time to time he would glance up at the sky, but he couldn’t see anything overhead. His ribs still hurt and he knew he wasn’t at full fighting fitness, but he was upright, and at times like this that was the standard for duty.
“We’re making good time, Jane,” said Wilson as they reached the bottom of the climb to Gibbet Point. “We should take a break so that we’re rested in case we have to fight.”
Jane nodded and sat down. Wilson drew a bottle from his hip and offered her a drink. She gulped down the warm water eagerly and handed the bottle back. Sitting there, readying himself for duty, Wilson looked quite the hunk to her. He was obviously dedicated; she could see he had a care beyond himself. Her stomach felt light and she began to blush. Oh, what the hell, she thought.
“Wilson, see, when all this is over…” Jane took a deep breath. “Do you think you and me… that’s us… could we get a drink together? Just a wee drink, nothing elaborate.”
Wilson looked deep into her eyes and took her hands in his own. For a moment, he looked beyond Jane, towards the target they would soon reach. Then he looked back at her and nodded.
“Why not, Jane? Why not? You’re a brave woman, very dedicated. It’s quite intoxicating.”
Jane grinned inanely at having bagged her saviour for a drink. She basked in Wilson’s smile until he glanced again at the summit of the hill. His eyes narrowed and his smile faded. He scanned his target for a full minute before returning his gaze to her face.
“Stay safe, Jane Goodritch, stay safe. Whatever happens up there, stay safe behind me.” Jane nodded and dropped her head. He caught it with his hand, tilted her head back and delivered a passionate kiss. She tingled inside. It had been so long, and her body was not the shape it had once been. This moment needed to last.
But then her saviour announced it was time for the attack on the shield generator at the summit. Reluctantly Jane stood, machetes in hand, half a step back from Wilson. At least she could be on his shoulder.
The climb was steep and difficult, especially as they were avoiding the path, but Jane was determined not to be left behind. Wilson barely turned around, his eyes constantly scanning the terrain ahead. Without warning he dropped down, grabbing her shirt, forcing her to the ground with him.
The tiger’s body stood out against the greenery but the toad’s head did not. The snake heads waving at the rear hissed unkindly. Wilson drew his wooden clubs. Jane had seen Havers use these and she was surprised to see them again.
“Arthur had those, too. Are they standard issue?”
“No, but he did teach me how to fight, and what to fight with,” said Wilson, grinning. “I hope there’s just one of those,” he added, nodding towards the tiger-toad.
Wilson waited for the creature to stalk away from him and then clambered further up the hill. Jane tailed him as closely as she could until he sent her off in a different direction. She lay flat on the grass and waited for his signal. She had seen such weird creatures recently that this hybrid didn’t shock her as much as the previous ones had. The toad-headed creature came past Wilson again and he chose this time to attack. The snakes hissed a warning but he slammed his arm down on the tail and bludgeoned it off with two blows. The creature turned; Wilson leapt onto its back and began to beat it severely. Within five seconds, Wilson had broken its back and the creature was subdued.
Jane ran up the hill towards the swinging cage, the source of the shield, and reached out with her machetes, ready to cut it down. As she approached she felt an almighty force erupt against her midriff as if she had been kicked. Falling backwards, she broke her fall with her hands but let her machetes drop in the process. Wilson, running her way, was caught by an invisible arm, clothes-lining and dropping him to the grass beneath. Jane couldn’t understand what had happened. Something rolled Wilson onto his front and drove into his back, causing him to cry out in pain. Jane watched in frustrated horror, seeing her new love being pummelled by something that wasn’t even there.
There was a brief moment of panic before Jane’s reflexes kicked in. She picked herself up and ran towards Wilson. Her brain said that whatever was pounding his back must be stood directly over him. Arms outstretched and ready to shove, Jane attacked, but before she felt any contact, a hand grabbed her throat and lifted her into the air. Feet dangling, she grabbed at the invisible hands that held her, desperately trying to prise them open but to no avail.
Wilson was groggy but still conscious. He saw Jane suspended in the air and fought the reaction to merely lash out at her attacker, whatever and wherever it was. He would need a smarter plan than that. Rolling quickly to one side, Wilson made for a rock he had seen in the grass. It looked just over the size of his fist and was the only weapon he could see. His sticks were on the far side of the invisible creature and he wanted to keep the being’s focus on Jane. His sides screamed out with every roll but he forced himself to keep going.
Gripping the rock with his strong arm, Wilson looked at Jane, her face trying to scream out but lacking the air to do it. There were indentations on her throat made by fingers unseen, and the colour in her face was draining. Her air supply had been cut off and she was looking straight through her attacker, her eyes begging Wilson for help.
It should be right there. If I was holding someone in a choke, then surely I would be right there, thought Wilson. He desperately looked for some sort of confirmation, knowing time was against him. If the creature stopped focusing on Jane then all was lost. And then he found what he was looking for. Yes! The indentations on the grass. There were three distinct impressions. Not long and foot-like, more like a very thick pole sitting on the ground. A tri-ped? Wilson didn’t know anything about those. Oh hell, he cried to himself. And then he threw the rock right at Jane’s face.
She couldn’t move to avoid it. Hurtling towards her was a large stone and part of Jane thought it might just end the pain quicker when it hit. Instinctively her eyes closed but her ears heard the thud ahead of her. Wilson saw a wild splodge of green liquid jettisoned from empty air, a spontaneous fountain th
at began to cover Jane. The grip on Jane’s throat was released and she stumbled backwards, her eyes closed as the green fluid continued to spray.
Wilson watched the spraying liquid and saw the impressions on the ground begin to move. He realized the creature was coming for him. The impressions on the ground moved closer and Wilson looked around for another weapon.
“Jane, get the sticks! Get me my sticks!”
Jane was wiping the putrid green fluid from her eyes. She looked around for the sticks; the nearest one was only a few feet away. She grabbed it and stumbled towards Wilson. He was screaming. Jane could see that both of his shoulders were pinned to the ground with his eyes fixated on the space above him. Six feet up, the green fluid continued to spray.
Wilson knew there was a third appendage and guessed it was hovering above his head, about to smack down on his forehead, sending him to oblivion. All the time he was carefully watching the position of the fluid, waiting for it to dip as the appendage struck. It dipped. Wilson threw his head and neck as far to one side as he could. Something caught the corner of his neck and pinned it to the floor. He was still alive, barely.
Jane came barrelling into the figure over Wilson. She couldn’t see it but it was obvious it was standing over him. Hitting one of its legs, Jane felt it give but she bounced off to one side, dropping the stick beside Wilson. A large indentation appeared on the ground; the creature must have fallen over. With no hesitation, Wilson grabbed the stick, summoned all his remaining reserves and leapt on top of the creature. The creature’s skin was coarse and Wilson could feel little abrasions forming all over his body. Ignoring this, Wilson repeated the same action over and over again, taking his stick and pounding the area that the green fluid was coming from.
Jane was willing him on to eliminate the creature, but she felt revulsion as Wilson’s face contorted with rage and vengeance. He battered away at the creature until his strength gave in and he collapsed back, rolling off the green mess that was left. She had known he could be destructive but it had always been controlled: smooth and effective, brave and defensive.
She understood the rage, having herself been throttled by the creature, but she was still shocked at the ferocity of Wilson’s outpouring of hate. Picking herself up and going over to him, she caught his eye, but he dropped his gaze and looked away from her, as if he knew she had seen his darkest of sides. And then his eyes closed. His chest still moved with his breathing, but it was slowing.
No, she thought, I can’t lose you, not now, not when we’ve just survived. No. I won’t let it. Jane embraced Wilson and cried over him.
“What to do, what do I do?” she said out loud, composing herself. “Airways, breathing, circulation. Need to check his airway.” Jane pulled Wilson’s mouth apart and pushed two fingers down. Wilson coughed violently before telling her, through the choking, to leave him alone.
“I’m good. Jane… I’m good. Cage… the cage.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of you, I’ll sort you out, you’re going nowhere.” Jane held him close, arms wrapped around him. “Don’t talk. Just relax.”
“Jane,” said Wilson in a harsh croak. “Destroy… the cage… or the… others… will be dead.”
Care Home Chaos
The elephant-crocodile looks the most dangerous,” Kirkgordon told Nefol. The girl nodded, placed a hand into his quiver and removed an arrow.
“That’s the one for the little guys with the hammers, yes?” Nefol nodded. “Good, positions then.”
It had not been an easy decision to disperse his group but Kirkgordon was worried that Farthington and Tania were nowhere to be seen. Nefol was to attack from his far right, with Austerley beside Kirkgordon and the priest on the far left. Kirkgordon wasn’t sure what help Father Jonah would be but he had taken a large mace with him which wouldn’t be of use to someone without training, so Kirkgordon guessed he was probably pretty handy.
Kirkgordon drew back his bow and let loose an arrow at the elephant part. The arrow speared the flank of the creature. Immediately, tiny men with miniature hammers appeared from it, working with frenzy and driving the beast to its knees. Father Jonah emerged from his cover and cried aloud at the wasp-monkey, which turned from its lazy path to fly directly towards the priest. Nefol ran at the slug-scorpion, which sprang into the air, landing behind her. And Austerley… where the hell is the idiot, wondered Kirkgordon.
A knife appeared at his throat from nowhere. He had been compromised. What was happening? Then he felt the evil sweet breath on his neck.
“I like a man who knows how to fire an arrow.” Tania was behind him. He felt her lean into him, her chest pressing against his back and a leg snaking around his own. Glancing down, he saw only a stump where the foot should have been but was distracted by a hand reaching between his legs and stroking his thigh.
“You can still be mine. I can sense you still want me, still want to take me as your own.” The hand moved higher up his thigh. The arms had sleeves on them, black and shiny with ornate symbols that were totally lost on Kirkgordon. Well at least she’s not naked again, reasoned Kirkgordon. He could feel himself stirring below even though he was fighting not to become aroused. Her hand moved even higher. Now that’s just not fair, he thought.
“Then take the knife away,” he said. “Or don’t you have enough trust in your womanly charms? Afraid I won’t respond? Afraid you don’t have enough to convince me?” Kirkgordon was beginning to sweat as the knife pressed harder into his throat.
“I know you’re responding, I can feel it,” laughed Tania in his ear. Damn, thought Kirkgordon, that feels too good.
“Why are you working with Farthington? Why not come with me and we’ll get away from here? A fresh start, Tania. Just you and me.”
“I don’t think you mean that. I think you’re just playing me. You’ll never leave your other woman.”
“Why? You think I won’t. I’ve got all I want in you. And I want all of it. You can feel that, can’t you? Feel my hunger.”
“I want to taste your hunger.” Tania pressed the knife harder, forcing Kirkgordon’s head to turn, and bit his lips in a playful fashion. He responded by engulfing her mouth, deeply tasting her. Oblivious to everything else, the couple tasted each other. Tania dropped the knife, allowing Kirkgordon to turn around and take hold of her hips. Stepping back, he looked at her in her skin-tight black dress; she was revealing an obscene amount of cleavage. He drew a sharp breath. Playing this close to the edge was difficult but Tania was starting to succumb.
“Come with me, let me take you back to the church, and we’ll plan what we’ll do.” Her eyes were full of passion but the witchy wildness that had been so dominant before had died. There was a new calm about her. Tania started to apologize, saying that she had done it all for him. She had looked into her future and she had seen Kirkgordon in the water and she had wanted him. And the old practices had taught her how to do it. But now she would win him on her own, without compulsion.
Kirkgordon smiled to reassure her and, for the first time, noticed she was hovering just above the ground. Now that’s a trick that Austerley could have done with, he thought. Then he saw the lumbering figure appear behind Tania. Before he could shout a warning, Austerley swung a small sword at Tania’s neck.
Austerley had never been a man of weapons and his mastery of them failed to improve with this strike. The blade was swung so inexpertly that he struck Tania’s neck with the flat side, merely bruising her. Watching Tania’s face, Kirkgordon saw the rage develop and the wildness return to her eyes.
“Liar! Betrayer!” she screamed at Kirkgordon. She twisted her hands into a convoluted form and reached towards Austerley. His smaller foot flew into the air and his body seemed to hang from it. Tania spun the university professor round and round until he became a blur. When she finally let him go, Austerley sailed through the air and crashed into a set of trees. She turned to confront Kirkgordon but he was gone.
Racing through some underg
rowth, all Kirkgordon could think was how that stupid arse had screwed it all up again. And she’ll be wild now, wild. Judging by what she’s just done to Indy, she’s going to be quite a handful. Glancing over at his other compatriots, he saw that Nefol had engaged the slug creature and the priest was striking the wasp concoction with a hefty blow from his mace. But something beyond that caught his eye. Many would have thought it to be another piecemeal creature, but Kirkgordon had seen those three heads before. Each head had one eye closed, damaged beyond repair by an arrow from Kirkgordon’s bow back on that dreadful island. He’s going to be pissed about that, thought Kirkgordon.
“Time to bring out the side shows,” Kirkgordon called to Father Jonah, before drawing his bow and firing an arrow into the wasp. A one-eyed giant appeared and began swatting at the wasp with his club. The wasp flew off, high into the air, and then dived at great speed and stung the giant on its head. A howl split the air that would have drowned out a football crowd, and the giant went into a berserker rage. The wasp was swiped aside with one blow. The next blow hit the slug and sent wet slime in all directions. It jumped some thirty feet on its cricket legs but the giant chased it down and pounded its wounded body. The slug lashed out with its scorpion tail but it missed the giant, who continued to batter the slimy creature until it no longer moved.
The giant at the care home had looked for direction from Kirkgordon but this time the magical beast ran straight for Farthington. The giant was nearly as tall as the dragon but Farthington was three times as wide. As the giant attacked Farthington with his club raised, the dragon caught him in the stomach with a solid foot. It was less like a kick and more like a brick wall being erected. The giant collided with the foot and dropped down to the ground.
Kirkgordon saw Farthington take to the air and he knew what was coming next. He drew a vortex arrow and fired it off as one of the dragon’s heads blew fire over the giant. Another head sent a fireball onto the arrow and it burned to a black crisp. The fire from the first head subsided and Kirkgordon saw his giant’s burnt husk lying on the ground. It was a strange feeling, a loss of what was effectively only a weapon, but Kirkgordon felt as though something of his had died. His professional core fought the rage seeping in.