“Eight hours? I don’t have eight minutes. Get going. If they get the artifact this will have been for nothing.”
“I will speak to the Citadel.”
“You do that and make sure I get a large memorial, one befitting my stature,” he said with a crooked smile. “Now go.”
Stick stepped close and bowed. Gibraltar nodded back. We raced up the stairs to create some distance from the nullifying effects of the inhibitor rune. We reached the roof as the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon.
“I’m sorry about your brother, he was a fierce warrior.”
Stick bowed in response.
“It was his time and he met it with honor. I will pass on his weapons and avenge his death. These were his last wishes. I will help you retrieve the artifact. You will help me avenge him.”
“The line will still be active at the site of the artifact.”
I reached into a pocket and examined the rune-covered sheet with the coordinates given to me by Zava.
“And these coordinates are supposed to put us right under it.”
“Using them would be unwise.”
“I have the distinct feeling they may be fatally inaccurate.”
Stick looked at me and nodded once as I discarded them. The paper fluttered across the roof and into the sky as a gust of wind carried it out of sight.
Stick nodded again and closed his eyes. “We need to go.”
I formed a circle. “This will put us close. Let’s go avenge your brother.”
We stepped into the circle and left Oblivion.
ELEVEN
WE ARRIVED IN the center of a deserted Times Square. The morning rays reflected from the hundreds of office windows around us, creating a halo effect of multiple suns.
Several blocks away I noticed the patrol of ogres and wolves and pulled Stick back into the shadows.
“Below.” I pointed to the nearest subway station and we descended.
He closed his eyes and pointed down with his staff. He winced as he tightened and adjusted the sling. I looked at his broken arm. The hand was swollen with a tinge of purple bruising.
“How bad is it?”
“I still have another arm. We must go lower.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked around for the entrance. At the end of the platform, I saw runic energy surrounding one of the doors.
“There.” I pointed to the door but didn’t move. “Wait. This is too easy. Why aren’t there guards? I expected at least some resistance.”
“They will be waiting for us downstairs.”
“Near the ley-line.”
He shook his head. “At the artifact.” He approached the door and tapped it with his staff. “You must open this door.”
I placed my hand on the door and a sequence of runes appeared. “A bloody rune sequence,” I muttered under my breath. “Step back.”
We moved back down the platform as I gestured, releasing an orb. It punched through the door, disintegrating it.
Stick raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to open it.”
“We’re not infiltrating, we’re storming.” I stepped through the ruined frame and headed downstairs. We reached the lowest level without incident and arrived at the artifact room. Once past the threshold, a wall of energy cut off our exit. I turned to examine the space.
Even with a dormant ley-line, the room contained an immense reservoir of runic force. I gestured, whispered a word of power, and started absorbing the ambient runic energy.
It was a small, nondescript room. I narrowed my eyes and saw amplification symbols etched on every surface. In the center of the floor, in a shallow depression, sat the Black Heart, a dark stone vibrating with power.
Ancient symbols surrounded the edge of the depression, creating a runic barrier. I could feel the energy of the dormant ley-line flowing beneath the artifact. I kept my distance once I realized we weren’t alone.
I sensed them before they stepped into view. At least ten wizards of varying levels of power surrounded us. Individually they posed little threat. Collectively, in this room, with amplification runes, they wielded enough power to give me pause. One of them pushed back their hood and Ironheart stepped forward.
I kept my anger in check as he smiled at me.
“The infamous Tristan Montague,” he said with a flourish, waving a wand, and reminding me of a conductor before an orchestra. “A rogue mage disobeying orders and attempting to tip the balance of power to the Free Forces infiltrates enemy territory, only to meet his premature death. You’ll be hailed as a hero.”
“I’ll make sure you die last and painfully.”
“The only one doing any dying here will be you.”
The wizards around us raised wands and formed black orbs.
“You’re not from the White Phoenix, wizard. Who do you work for?”
“You should have used the coordinates you were given. It would’ve made this much easier. I don’t need you alive to remove the barrier to the Black Heart. Your mage essence will act as a key.”
“There’s a difference between a mage and a wizard, do you know what it is?”
“Mages are arrogant, self-absorbed pricks with delusions of superiority, and wizards actually wield real power.”
“Some of that is true, but there is a deeper, fundamental difference. Mages don’t need a focus.”
“Which only proves their inferiority,” he sneered. “Kill them.”
I unleashed the accumulated energy I held in an omnidirectional wave. The black orbs around us winked out as I drew the Sorrows. A mournful cry filled the room.
“You’ve negated their magic,” Stick stated, looking around as the wizards tried to futilely resummon the energy orbs.
“I’ve negated all magic in this room.”
“For how long?” he asked, whirling his short staff.
“Long enough,” I said and closed on Ironheart, who drew a blade of his own.
Stick flowed into the wizards and struck them down as they tried to fend off his attacks. They were no match for his controlled fury as he dispatched them one after the other. The sound of broken bones and screams of pain filled the room as he moved among them. I focused on the wizard in front of me.
“What did you do?” Ironheart asked, tossing his wand to one side and holding his blade with both hands.
“There’s one more difference between us.” I ducked under a slash and parried a thrust. I slid inside his next thrust, redirected his sword wide, and buried one of the Sorrows in his thigh. He cried out in pain and lowered his guard.
I slashed across his neck with my other sword and cut his scream short. He fell to the ground, clutching his throat and bleeding out. I sheathed the Sorrows and looked at the dying wizard.
“Mages learn early on that relying only on magic is a crutch. The real weapon is the person wielding the magic.”
Stick stepped up behind me and I turned to survey his handiwork. Groans and cries of pain filled the room.
He had disarmed them and broken several of their extremities in the process. They were all alive, but they wouldn’t be using their wands or magic for some time. The strikes were surgical in their precision and devastating in their intensity. I noticed he was barely breathing hard.
“My apologies for the delay, but I was only able to use one arm.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
I walked over to the center of the room. I whispered another word of power and my access to the runic energy returned with a rush. I placed my hand over the Black Heart and allowed a small portion of my essence to cascade over the barrier. Soft blue light fell onto the artifact as the barrier fell away.
“What will you do with it?”
“I can’t allow this to be used by either side. The potential for abuse is too great.”
“Can it be destroyed?”
“Only if we want to take most of the city with us in the resulting explosion.”
“Containment then,” he said with a no
d. “Where?”
“No, I have a when.”
I gestured and violet energy fell on the Black Heart. It exploded with darklight for a few seconds and then disappeared. I heard the klaxons scream above us as the runes on the walls flared to life.
“I’ve deprived you of your vengeance, I’m sorry.”
He glanced down at the lifeless body of Ironheart. “He was the tool. We need the one who wielded him.”
I cast a teleportation circle.
“Let’s go have a conversation with Commander Zava.”
TWELVE
THE SUN HAD set by the time I approached the Bravo bunker complex. Armed guards wearing rune-enhanced battle armor surrounded the compound. All of their weapons contained erasure rounds designed to negate all magic ability, permanently. Zava was taking no chances.
By now, I was certain he had considered the mission a loss and redirected attention to the effort on Ellis. Even given the seventy-two hour window, once the artifact was reported missing, it was pointless to pursue its retrieval.
He took a risk and turned up empty. There would be no official record of Operation Hand of Fate and we would be declared missing in action. He would be packing up and relocating to a higher security base farther inland, closer to the front, and would put this unpleasant episode behind him.
Ellis Island had been exfiltrated and I realized that the mission for the artifact, while facilitating the evacuation of the island had been Zava’s attempt at a power grab. His greed had cost the lives of good men.
The plan was almost flawless. With Ironheart as the inside man, he could ensure none of us left Keyes alive. By poisoning Fan and Gibraltar and then teleporting ahead, he ensured I would follow him. If I had used the coordinates he had given me, I would have arrived under the artifact, inside the active ley-line. And dead in less than a second.
My essence would have released the Black Heart and Zava would have had the artifact and power. He only made one miscalculation: making me part of this team in the first place.
I adjusted my enhanced battle armor and approached the bunker complex. Unlike the armor worn by the guards, mine had been runed by a Negomancer. Every rune was designed to negate my presence. Any equipment designed to detect runic presence would only find a hole in existence. Outside of visual confirmation, I was invisible to any scan.
I traveled the perimeter and dispatched the guards, leaving them unconscious. Killing them served no purpose and the mission only had one target tonight.
I entered the building and stepped quietly to the runed conference room. I stayed to one side as a shotgun round punched a large hole through the center of the steel door.
“Hello, Tristan. Would you like to show yourself and make it easier for me?”
“Good people died because of you, Henry.”
“Don’t be naïve. No one in this war is good. People die every day.”
“And you’d have added to that number with the artifact.”
“I could have ended the war! You think about that each day this conflict continues. I could have stopped it in one fell swoop if you had brought me the artifact.”
“And sacrificed millions?”
“It was a price I was willing to pay. Now we’ll have to use the protocol. You’ve stopped nothing, only delayed the inevitable.”
I heard him step to the side and chamber a round in the shotgun. I rolled back and lay flat as several more rounds punched through the cinder block wall where I’d stood moments earlier. Shells hit the floor. It was the sound I was waiting for. I rushed in as he tried to reload and raise the shotgun to blast me. I released an orb of air and smashed him in the chest.
The gun flew out of his hands as he bounced off the wall. I kicked it to one side and looked down at the commander of the Free Forces.
“What happened to you? When did you lose your purpose?”
“My purpose? You pompous prick! My purpose is to win this war by any means necessary. If that means sacrificing a city, two cities, ten cities, then that’s what I’ll do. That is my purpose! Did you think I was going to lose sleep over sacrificing your team? I’ll sacrifice a hundred teams if it means gaining an advantage over those supernatural freaks.”
I picked up the shotgun and loaded a shell.
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“What? You’re going to kill me? I’m the commander of the Free Forces. You can’t kill me.”
“I have to admit I’m sorely tempted, but I gave my word.” Stick glided soundlessly into the conference room, his face a mask of death, and I saw fear in Zava’s eyes. “He’s yours.”
I left the conference room and the bunker. The screams went on for a long time afterwards. An hour later, I sensed Stick leave the bunker and approach where I stood.
“My brother is avenged. Thank you.”
I cast a teleportation circle. The violet light glowed in the night.
“He let himself be corrupted and was unfit to lead.”
“Will you continue to fight?”
I nodded. “There are more like him. Willing to throw lives away for their selfish gain. I think I will focus on them and ending this war. And you?”
“I will carry out Kano’s last wish, pass on his weapons, and their teachings to our lineage. I hope the next time we meet it will be in a time of peace.”
“Peace…I’d like that, and a cup of tea.” I held out my hand and he took it with a strong grip. “Until next time, Master Yat.”
He gave me a short nod. “Until next time, Mage Montague.”
I stepped in the circle and the world vanished.
THE END
AUTHOR NOTES
THANK YOU FOR reading these stories and jumping into the world of Monty & Strong.
With each story, I want to introduce you to different elements of the world Monty & Strong inhabit, slowly revealing who they are and why they make the choices they do.
There are some references you will understand and some…you may not. This may be attributable to my age (I’m older than Monty or feel that way most mornings) or to my love of all things sci-fi and fantasy. As a reader, I’ve always enjoyed finding these “Easter Eggs” in the books I read. I hope you do too. Some in this story are very subtle.If there is a reference you don’t get, feel free to email me and I will explain it…maybe.
Each book & story will reveal more about Monty & Strong’s backgrounds and lives before they met. Rather than hit you with a whole history at once, I wanted you to learn about them slowly, the way we do with a person we just met—over time (and many large cups of DeathWish Coffee).
Thank you for taking the time to read these stories. I wrote them for you.
If you really enjoyed this collection, I need you to do me a HUGE favor— Please leave a review.
It’s really important and helps the books (and me).
If this is your first experience with a Monty & Strong story…WELCOME!
I’ve included the first chapter of TOMBYARDS & BUTTERFLIES the first full-length Montague & Strong Detective Agency Novel. Please read on and enjoy!
TOMBYARDS & BUTTERFLIES
A MONTAGUE AND Strong Detective Novel
ONE
What’s more exciting than chasing a rabid werewolf in the middle of the night? Chasing that rabid werewolf in Downtown Manhattan in the middle of the night. The Village, as a neighborhood, was a warren of intersecting streets and dead ends. We had already been at it for thirty minutes and we were closing in.
“This is what the English did,” I said as we ran down Sixth Avenue. “Who lays out a city like this? A grid, Monty, would it have killed them to use a grid?”
“The Dutch were here first,” he said. “The English didn’t arrive until 1664. That’s how you get the name New York.”
We chased it down Minetta Lane off Sixth Avenue. The wet-dog smell punched me in the face as soon as I turned the corner.
“There’s something wrong with that smell,” I said. “God, he reeks!”
&n
bsp; “I didn’t realize you were a werewolf scent expert,” Monty said as he caught up, his long legs making it easy.
“I’m not, but this guy smells like he hasn’t bathed in a year. And did you see his eyes?”
“I did,” Monty said. “He seems to be suffering from some kind of reaction.”
“Reaction? He tore that poor woman in half. That’s not a reaction. That’s a full-blown infection.”
“It does seem like he’s unstable,” Monty said as he looked up and down the street.
“Just a bit, yeah.”
We followed the scent to the end of Minetta and on to Macdougal Street, when a large, furry blur shot past us.
“Shoot it, Simon! Shoot!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I said as I fired several times.
“Shoot it harder!”
We jumped behind a parked SUV. The license plate read RUFFRDR. The truck was one of those huge things that wasn’t quite a tank but could never pass for an ordinary car, either. I figured there was enough vehicle to protect us from the Were’s razor-sharp claws. That theory evaporated, though. We jumped to the side as it sliced through the metal and plastic with ease, rendering our cover useless. The SUV fell apart like blocks of LEGO and I couldn’t help thinking that RUFFRDR was going to wake up in the morning and have a very bad day.
“Really, that’s what you’re going with, Monty? ‘Shoot it harder’?”
“Strong,” rasped the creature on the other side of what used to be a perfectly functioning mode of transportation. “I’m going to rip out your intestines and eat them while you watch.”
“Wow,” Monty said. “He’s pissed. What did you do to him?”
“Now would be a good time for magic,” I said. “You know, a fireball or two? Or some Were-melting spell?”
“Can’t—he’s wearing a null proximity rune,” Monty said. “But I don’t understand why the silver ammo isn’t affecting him. You did switch out for silver ammo, right?”
“Silver…ammo? Of course I packed the silver—shit.”
I forgot to switch the ammo.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Monty said, exasperated. “We’re out here fighting a werewolf, Simon.”
A Montague & Strong Short Story Collection (Montague & Strong Case Files) Page 11