Age of Legends

by James Lovegrove

  “Attaboy,” Mr LeRoy beamed.

  Ajia said, “It’s good to have you on our team.” She hesitated. “But how the fuck did you get out of that burning box?”

  “Yeah,” Fletcher said, “that had me puzzled, too.”

  Paul looked across the small room at Mr LeRoy. “Shall I show them, Bron?”

  “I think a demonstration will go down very well.”

  Ajia watched as Wee Paul scrunched his potato face up in concentration, lifted his right hand into the air, snapped his fingers––and vanished.

  “What the…!” Fletcher gasped.

  Ajia laughed. “How… how did he do that?”

  Fletcher shook his head. “Where is he?”

  A piping voice answered him. “Right here!”

  Ajia heard the tiny voice. It seemed to come from the exact place that Wee Paul had occupied––though, manifestly, no one occupied that space.

  Then she looked more closely.

  Seated cross-legged on the pink brocade cushion of the chair was a tiny version of Wee Paul, garbed in a white dressing down and minuscule black socks, no more than two inches high.

  He saw Ajia staring and gave a jaunty wave. “Hi, there, girl!” he piped.

  “Ajia, Reed, meet Paul Klein, a.k.a. Tom Thumb.”

  The diminutive Paul snapped off a salute, then clicked his fingers and resumed his normal size in the blink of an eye.

  “There was a tiny hole in the corner of the box,” Wee Paul explained, “and when Pam was waving the lighter around, and everyone’s attention was on her, I slipped through the hole, down the trestle leg, and legged it back here. Easy-peasy.”

  “And now I suggest we return to the minibus,” Mr LeRoy said. “These days we travel by night, Paul, and rest up by day. And perhaps, for speed, it would be advisable if you were to assume Tom Thumb dimensions and ride in Ajia’s pocket––that way finding out first hand her enviable talent.”

  “We’ll be needing funds on our travels?” Paul asked.

  Mr LeRoy agreed. “I would welcome any contribution.”

  “In that case we’ll make a detour to my place and I’ll dig out some readies.”

  He snapped his fingers and shrank instantly. Ajia bent down, held out a hand, and Wee Paul stepped on to her palm. Her only free pocket was on the chest of her shirt, and wondering at her wisdom she slipped the homunculus into it.

  Her misgivings were justified a minute later as they left the club by a rear entrance and she prepared to slip into Puck mode.

  “Hey!” she called out. “Let go or you’re walking!”

  “Sorry,” came the piping reply. “Bit hard to resist, Ajia.”

  He unhanded her nipple and she sprinted.

  AJIA SPIED THE glow of the fire long before she reached the wood.

  She stopped on the edge of the estate and stared at the orange radiance pulsing above the darkened treetops a mile away.

  “What is it?” Paul called. “Why’ve you stopped?”

  “Shut it!” she snapped. She needed to think. Wait here for Mr LeRoy and Fletcher to catch up, or investigate the fire? The glow emanated from the dead centre of the woods where they had left the minibus, and she could think of no reason for the blaze––or, rather, she could think of one very good reason.

  The Paladins had traced them here.

  She scooped Wee Paul from her pocket and held him before her face. “You need to stay here. Something’s not right in the woods.” She indicated the distant fire. “That’s where we left the minibus.”

  “What do you think is…?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out. Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She lowered him to the ground and stood back as the diminutive man snapped his fingers and appeared instantly before her.

  He peered at the fiery glow on the horizon. “A night of fire,” he murmured.

  “I should be back before Mr LeRoy and Fletcher get here, but in case I’m not, tell them where I went.”

  “If I can help––?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll be in and out of there as fast as I can. Later.”

  She sprinted.

  She left the estate and sped over the moorland track. There was little movement around her to indicate how fast she was running, but down to her right, in the valley, the trail of red taillights from vehicles on the ring-road appeared motionless.

  Ahead, the pulsing glow of the fire pulsed no longer.

  She approached the trees with mounting apprehension.

  She thought of Daisy Hawthorn, Smith and Elvira and the others. Had the campfire got out of hand and spread to the forest? It was summer and the ground cover was as dry as tinder…

  Wishful thinking, she knew.

  She came to a track leading into the woods, and slowed down.

  A parked vehicle stood in the track, thirty yards away.

  A Paladin Humvee.

  How had the bastards tracked them here?

  Tears stinging her eyes, she concealed herself behind a bush and considered what to do next.

  When Mr LeRoy and Fletcher reached Wee Paul, they would know better than to risk proceeding to the woods. They would remain where they were and await her return.

  The Paladins had obviously attacked the minibus. The question was, were there any survivors?

  She made out the dim figure of a Paladin in the driving seat of the Humvee, but no others were in sight. She’d sprint up the lane, into the wood, and take a look.

  She slipped her knife from her pocket, sprinted from the cover of the bush, and raced past the Humvee.

  She moved in spurts, ten yards at a time. Run. Halt. Assess the situation. The ground underfoot was uneven and she risked doing herself an injury if she lost her footing. Run. Halt. Assess the situation. The closer she moved into the heart of the woods, the brighter the glow became. There seemed to be no Paladins guarding the perimeter of the woods. They would be in there, of course, doing the killing. Run. Halt. Assess the situation.

  Like this, in a series of stop-go stages, Ajia moved cautiously towards the clearing.

  She came to a spray of ferns and hunkered down behind the curving leaves.

  She stared into the clearing.

  The minibus was on fire, sending bright flames high into the air along with a roiling churn of oily smoke and assorted debris. Even from a distance of twenty yards, she could feel the belting heat of the conflagration on her face.

  Through the shattered windows, flaming bodies writhed and contorted. A great hole in the side of the minibus showed where a missile had entered and exploded. And as if not satisfied with bombing the bus and the innocents within, the Paladins had raked the length of the vehicle with assault-rifle fire.

  A dozen black-uniformed soldiers stood around the pyre, talking amongst themselves, joking and laughing as they waited for the fire to die out. They knew how many fugitives they were seeking, so when they counted the corpses on the bus they would know there were three short.

  But perhaps Daisy, Smith and some of the others had managed to flee the attack?

  How likely would it have been that all her friends had been on the bus when the attack happened?

  The alternative was too horrible to contemplate: that the Paladins had rounded up Daisy, Smith and all the others, forced them at gunpoint on to the bus, then bombed and riddled it with bullets.

  She watched as the bodies in the bus twisted and contorted in a macabre dance of fiery death, and she was consumed by rage.

  He first instinct was to attack.

  She could do untold damage to the unsuspecting Paladins, knife them one by one.

  But caution stopped her.

  Why risk her life, and make it obvious to the Paladins in command that there were indeed survivors, when the bigger picture was to venture south and attack the source of all this evil, Derek Drake?

  She turned and moved away from the clearing, hunkering through the undergrowth until she found a path leading from the woods.


  She was about to sprint when a hand clutched her arm as tight as a tourniquet and pulled her backwards. Another hand clamped itself over her mouth.

  She was dragged into the cover of an elder tree. A second figure stepped into view.

  Daisy Hawthorn, as large and life and beaming at her.

  The hands released her and she whirled around to see Wayland Smith.

  She hugged Daisy, then Smith. “But… I saw… Back there… the minibus! Bodies!”

  “Shhh,” Daisy said, taking her hand. “It’s okay, love.”

  “But the others?”

  Smith murmured, “We’re fine, all of us. We left the clearing before the Paladins found the bus.”

  Ajia found herself weeping with relief. “But how? What happened?”

  “We were in a village over that way,” Daisy said, pointing vaguely, “when Elvira found me. She was in a frantic state, weeping and wailing. She said she’d seen a man and a woman asking people in an off-licence if they’d seen a white minibus painted with flowers. And she recognised the couple: the very same pair who’d scoped the nursery last week. I found the others and we raced back here.”

  “But I saw bodies…” Ajia began.

  Daisy smiled in the semi-darkness. She reached out, touched a bough of elder, and under the influence of her magical fingers the bough twisted, turned, and assumed a nascent human shape.

  “I brought along some plants, remember? Not that I thought I’d be using them in quite that way, but they sufficed.”

  “And the others?” Ajia gasped. She found it almost impossible to believe that all her friends had escaped alive.

  “While I was arranging the plants, everyone slipped away.”

  Smith interrupted. “We need to be moving. It won’t be long before the Paladins realise that the corpses aren’t exactly what they thought they were. I don’t want to be anywhere nearby when that happens.”

  They hurried through the woods, making a detour to meet Mr LeRoy, Fletcher and Wee Paul. On the way, Ajia recounted the night’s adventures and the recruiting of the Tom Thumb eidolon to their cause.

  They hurried along the moorland path and came to the estate where she had left Wee Paul. Mr LeRoy, Fletcher and the midget were kicking their heels in the radiance of a street-light when Ajia turned the corner and ran to the trio.

  “But we were worried sick!” Mr LeRoy cried when he saw Daisy and Smith. We thought…” He gestured vaguely toward the fiery glow. “But the others?”

  “All safe,” Smith said.

  Daisy recounted the events of the evening, Elvira’s sighting of the Paladin spies, and her horticultural simulation.

  “You say that the couple knew of the minibus?” Mr LeRoy asked.

  Smith said, “Either a survivor saw us leave the nursery, or more likely they’ve been tracking every vehicle seen at some point in the vicinity of the nursery after the attack.”

  Mr LeRoy made the hurried introductions of Wee Paul to Daisy and Smith, and the latter suggested they lose no time in making their way to a patch of woodland on the distant hillside.

  It was almost an hour later by the time they reached the meeting point, having taken a circuitous route around the hill to avoid any lingering Paladins. When they reached the margin of the trees, Ajia looked around the bedraggled group, counting heads.

  “Twelve, discounting Paul,” she said. “Two missing.”

  “Ariel and Elvira,” Daisy said.

  Smith said, “Don’t worry, they’re safe. I saw them leave the clearing together.”

  “They knew where you were meeting?” Wee Paul said.

  “I told everyone,” Daisy said. “Elvira might be a little… away with the fairies, if you’ll excuse the expression, but Ariel would take charge.”

  “We just need to wait,” Bogdan the boggart said.

  They were discussing their next possible move when, minutes later, Ajia was startled by a crashing through the undergrowth behind the fathering.

  She jumped up and turned.

  Ariel appeared through the shrubbery, distraught.

  “They’ve got Elvira! She said she was going back for her charm. She’d left it on a log on the edge of the clearing. I argued with her, but she wouldn’t listen.” He stopped, gulping down great breaths.

  Smith took his shoulder and shook the elf. “The Paladins have got her?”

  Ariel nodded. “I tried to stop her, but she ran off. I followed. She’d reached the clearing, but… but a Paladin saw her. He knocked her unconscious with his rifle. I’m sorry, but I ran.”

  Fletcher touched his shoulder. “In the circumstances, you did the right thing.”

  Ajia looked across at Bogdan, who stood at ease with a stubby submachine gun slung over his shoulder.

  “Give me that!”

  Bogdan hesitated, looking at Daisy.

  “I said give me the gun!” Ajia barked.

  Grudgingly, the boggart handed it over.

  “I’m going for her,” Ajia said.

  Mr LeRoy said, “Don’t be a fool. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Fletcher backed him up. “Listen to him, for Christ’s sake! You’d be putting yourself in danger. And you’d be alerting the bastards the fact that there were survivors.”

  “Fuckwit!” she snapped. “Think about it. They’ll know we got away when they see the bodies are fucking plants.”

  She stared back at their staring faces, daring them to oppose her.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

  She shouldered the machine gun and took off.

  SHE COVERED THE intervening mile and a half in under a minute, racing over moonlit moorland, leaping drystone walls, approaching the woodland where the minibus still burned.

  Her objective was to reach Elvira before the Paladins killed her, and before the bus was safe enough for them to inspect. Once they knew of Daisy’s duplicity, and that there were survivors, they would no doubt torture Elvira for information.

  If they hadn’t already killed her.

  She reached the forest and made her way through the trees as before. Run. Halt. Assess the situation. She came to the clearing and ducked behind a bush. The Paladins were still gathered around the minibus. They stood at ease, some smoking, others vaping, laughing and joking amongst themselves. Killers inured to the bloody nature of their job. Doing their duty for King and Country. For Drake.

  She moved from the ferns and sprinted clockwise around the clearing until she was on the other side of the bus.

  And then she saw Elvira.

  Saw her sprawled, naked body.

  Saw what the Paladins had done to her.

  Another innocent casualty.

  She stifled a sob.

  They would pay for this.

  Unconsciously, she had pulled the knife from her trouser pocket and was gripping it in her right hand, the machine gun still slung over her shoulder.

  She had the element of surprise. There was no need to rush. She had to get the job done quickly and cleanly.

  But how best to go about it?

  She could dart amongst them, slashing and cutting as before, taking them out one by one.

  Or she could move into the clearing at speed and open fire with the machine gun.

  She looked back at the elf’s body and said to herself: This is for you, girl.

  She moved around the margin of the clearing in the dappled shadows, counting the Paladins. There were eleven of them, with the twelfth still back at the Humvee, presumably. She would deal with him later.

  Seven Paladins stood on the far side of the bus, in two groups. The other four stood a dozen yards from her, smoking and watching the vehicle burn.

  As she watched, a Paladin strolled away from his colleague to relieve himself in the undergrowth, making her decision for her. She smiled.

  You first.

  She darted forward, caught the soldier around the neck, tugged, and pulled the knife across his jugular.

  He was dead before he co
uld cry out. She dragged the corpse into the forest and dumped it in the undergrowth.

  Alerted by the noise, the remaining three Paladins turned as one and stared at where their colleague had stood. One of them called his name. He stepped forward, peering right and left, and then into the shadows of the wood. The others followed, bringing their weapons to bear.

  Ajia unslung the machine gun, slipped off the safety catch, and sprayed a three second burst at the advancing soldiers.

  She was surprised at how efficiently so many bullets could strip flesh from the bone.

  She took off, back into the woods, and moved anticlockwise around the perimeter of the clearing.

  Cries greeted the gunfire, and the first Paladin appeared cautiously around the burnt-out minibus. Ajia aimed at his head and squeezed off a one second burst. He fell without a sound. She set off again, moving around the bus––still in the cover of the trees––and the remaining six Paladins came into sight.

  Two had dropped to their knees, weapons aiming into the woods. Two others stood over them, covering their flanks, while the remaining pair backed off and slipped stealthily into the trees diametrically opposite her.

  She backed into the trees and sprinted to meet them.

  As she approached, she didn’t slow down. Instead, she raised the butt of her machine gun and aimed at the head of the first goon as she passed. Impact, and she felt the skull crunch. She swung the weapon at the second, startled Paladin and connected with the side of his head. He went down without a sound. She checked that they were both dead––surprised at the extent of the damage done to their fragile skulls––then moved back to the clearing.

  The remaining four Paladins had decided, in the face of this invisible opposition, to err on the side of caution and retreat. They were backing across the clearing, covering themselves, when Ajia stepped from the clearing and stood in open view.

  Some urge had prompted the rash act. The desire for them to see and acknowledge their nemesis.

  They turned as one, their expressions comical as they registered the unlikely fact that a girl had routed their elite force.

  “This is for Elvira!” she told them before they could bring their arms to bear.