by Simon Hawke
Suddenly he blinked, shook his head, and blinked again to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. It came swooping past the open helicopter doors, banking sharply, sheets flapping in the wind, and the figure seated aboard was unmistakable.
“Christ, what the hell was that?” the pilot shouted.
One of the other pilots came through on his headset. “Am I losing my damn mind or did Santa Claus just fly by on a hospital gurney?”
“Who the hell cares?” Foster replied, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. “Whatever it is, it’s on our side.”
“Sebastian, you are a bloody marvel!” Billy said, grinning as he watched Makepeace dart among the dragons like an angry hornet. He came in close, so close he risked being burned by their fiery breath, but he flew so quickly that the creatures could not react to him in time. He buzzed around them like a horsefly, swooping at their heads and then swerving away at the last possible second, narrowly avoiding their snapping jaws, distracting those who had come closest to the choppers long enough to allow the gunners time to bring their weapons to bear the fire the moment he darted away.
“I see it, but I don’t believe it,” yelled Foster, shaking his head with amazement. “Who the hell is that guy?”
“Would you believe he’s an English teacher?” Billy yelled back from the open bay.
“At this point, I’d believe just about any damn thing,” Foster called back as the chopper fired its air-to-air missiles. “I’m in aerial combat with a bunch of overgrown, fire-breathing lizards, for cryin’ out loud! And if I live through this, I’ll probably have to take on the damn Sierra Club!”
The dragons were dropping like very large flies as the weapons systems did their work, but one chopper had already been lost. The creatures were like huge flying flamethrowers and they hurled themselves at the choppers the way bugs smashed themselves against lighted windows. One chopper narrowly avoided a collision, its pilot doing a superb bit of flying as he spun the craft away from an on-rushing dragon and his gunner poured machine-gun fire into the screaming creature’s flank. The formation was totally disrupted as the choppers spread out to give themselves maneuvering room and minimize the danger of getting caught in their own crossfire. And both the pilots and their gunners had their hands full keeping the dragons at bay.
But they were not all successful. Through the open bay door, Billy saw a dragon come swooping down upon a chopper like a bird of prey and he threw a bolt of energy at the creature, but not before it had time to breathe a huge gout of flame at its intended target. The energy bolt he threw struck home and the dragon screeched like an express train as it was wreathed in an incandescent blue aura, but even as it died, the helicopter it attacked spun wildly, its pilot blinded by the flame, and was struck broadside by another dragon that hurled itself against the chopper like a charging rhino. The fireball from the resulting explosion made Billy flinch and cover his eyes.
“Jesus, look at ‘em all,” he heard the pilot say over the headset. “We’re never gonna make it.”
“They’re just big flying lizards, Lieutenant,” he heard Foster reply. “All you gotta do is shoot ‘em down.”
“Right. Well, we just fired our last missile. We’ve only got the guns now.”
“So use ‘em, dammit!”
Billy knew the beasts had to be controlled to keep on attacking in such a suicidal manner. And they had no natural ability to fly or breathe fire. That meant Talon had to be expending tremendous amounts of energy to do all this. The bastard had to be incredibly strong. He was drawing on an enormous amount of life force energy. He had to have been storing up a great deal of it, at a cost of who knew how many lives. But how much more could he have left?
The answer came a moment later. As Billy watched the swirling, sparkling vortex that was the Living Triangle swoop down upon the mountain like a comet, he saw that magical control abruptly relinquished as Talon responded to their approach. The spirits of the runestones had done exactly the right thing and it had been their only chance. Talon knew that they were coming for him and he released the dragons to concentrate his full power on the greater threat. The remaining dragons suddenly plummeted to earth like stones as their wings started to shrink. If there was anybody down below, thought Billy, he hoped they had time to get out of the way. It had been a close call, but now the choppers had a clear flight path to the summit.
“Take ‘em in!” the colonel shouted, and the helicopters started to descend.
Rafe’s car smashed through the gates of the enclave as the helicopters came in low over the compound. As he lurched from the car, out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the choppers come in low, just beyond the walls, and disgorge a platoon of army rangers. There was pandemonium on the grounds of the enclave. People were screaming and running around in a panic. They had seen the dragons take flight and watched the fantastic aerial battle with disbelief and horror. Now, as the choppers came swooping in, they were scattering in all directions, some running for the gates, some to take shelter in the buildings, some simply running around aimlessly.
“Oh, my God, you’re bleeding!” a girl shouted as Rafe stumbled inside the mission.
He brushed her aside and staggered down the aisle, heading toward the side door leading out into the courtyard. He knew where Talon would be. He just needed to reach him before he passed out. As he staggered out into the courtyard, a huge blinding light suddenly descended on the adobe house, a sparkling, swirling, incandescent cloud so bright that he recoiled from it.
As Rafe shielded his eyes, there was a tremendous explosion and he was thrown to the ground. Debris rained down all around him and when he raised his head, he saw that the entire house had been blown open, as if smashed in by a gigantic wrecking ball. The roof was gone and the walls were cracked and buckled. The entire wall in front of him had collapsed. The bright light that had descended had disappeared, but there was now a gaping hole in the center of the house, right in the floor where the tunnel led down to the cavern.
Rafe had no idea what it was. A missile? Some new kind of energy weapon? He tried to struggle to his feet, but he had no more strength left. He was too weak from loss of blood. He collapsed back to the ground, cursing through the pain. His vision swam. Not yet, goddamn it, he thought, not yet!
Somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, he heard the sounds of gunfire and men shouting, people screaming. He tried to stand again, but could only manage to get up to his knees. Everything around him was blurred. With a mounting fury, he realized he wasn’t going to make it. He was going to die right here, so close, and yet too far away to take that bastard Talon with him. He screamed with rage, pain, and frustration.
And then he saw something coming down in front of him. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. It was too small to be a chopper. He saw someone moving toward him, reaching out…
“Good Lord,” a voice said, “it’s you!”
As the face came closer, Rafe tried to focus on it. He could make out only blurred features, a rotund face framed by long, shaggy white hair. “Help me…” he said. “Gotta get that fucker, Talon… get him ‘fore I die.”
He felt a hand on him, steadying him. “All right, hang on. I’ll try to help. I don’t know if I have enough strength left for a healing…”
Rafe felt a rapidly increasing warmth rushing through him, passing into him from the hand that touched him, permeating his entire body. He thought of the terrifying, numbing cold that had spread throughout him when Talon had possessed him, but this was different. It was warm, soothing, and comforting. He trembled involuntarily as he felt it reach his wounds and his vision started to clear.
He could feel his strength returning. Something shifted inside him and he winced with pain as he felt the bullets in his chest and shoulder start to worm their way out through his flesh. It hurt like hell, but he could feel the ruined muscle knitting as the bullets worked their way back up to the surface. A moment later, they dropped to the red brick of the cour
tyard and he stared at the misshapen little lumps of jacketed lead that had mushroomed as they plowed their way through his tissue when he was shot. But the wounds were already healing rapidly, even as the bullets fell out onto the ground.
He stared up at Makepeace and at first he didn’t recognize him. He saw a large, heavily built white man with a thick shock of white hair, but hair that had been singed badly on one side. The white man had been burned recently. Very recently. He looked terrible, as if he could barely stand. And then Rafe suddenly remembered where he had seen him before.
“I… I tried to kill you,” he said, mystified at why this man had helped him.
Makepeace shook his head. “It wasn’t you,” he said. “I know. It wasn’t… your fault—” He staggered and fell against Rafe.
“Here, man… take it easy,” Rafe said, easing him down onto the bench beneath the tree.
Makepeace was breathing heavily. “I’m afraid… I don’t have anything left,” he said wearily. “No more strength.”
“You just rest here, old man,” said Rafe. “I owe you. And I’m comin’ back for you. I promise. If I make it.”
He moved off toward the gaping hole in the ground where the house once stood.
“We’ve got to get her away from the President,” Manly whispered tensely into his mike. “Now!”
“Hang tight,” came the reply through his earpiece. “We’re on it.”
One of the Secret Service agents approached Senator Jones. “Excuse me, Senator,” he said, “there’s a telephone call for you, sir.”
Jones glanced around irately. “Who the hell is it?”
“I don’t know, sir, I wasn’t told. But your office said it was urgent.”
Jones sighed. “Oh, very well. “ He made his excuses to the President, then the agent escorted him out of the room.
Unobtrusively, the circle of agents around the President had tightened. None of the guests seemed to notice. They were all too intent on chitchat, on working the room, on playing that most time-honored of Washington games. It was, ostensibly, a social evening, but no gathering in the nation’s capital was ever entirely social, especially at this level. The guests had their own agenda with which they were preoccupied and everyone was vying for the President’s attention.
Manly noted with satisfaction that the President’s husband was taking advantage of Senator Jones’s brief absence to steer the woman away from his wife, where he could talk to her alone. He almost laughed out loud with nervous tension when he heard one of the Secret Service agents whisper to himself over the earpiece, “That’s it, you horny bastard, make your move. Get her the hell out of here. “
It was a remarkable lapse, all the more indicative of the tension among them. Can’t risk anything going down here, thought Manly. Screw the legalities of the situation, it would be far too dangerous. Some of the most important and powerful people in the country were in this room, about to sit down to dinner. He wanted to have it over with before they did that. And so far, the woman seemed to be cooperating. She was moving off with the President’s husband, going into another room… and then it suddenly hit him.
As they ambled out of the room in a seemingly casual way, Manly caught a glimpse of the First Gentleman’s face. The woman seemed to be talking to him, leaning on his arm with her head close to his ear, but he wasn’t saying anything in reply. The President’s husband was glassy-eyed, his features slack, his mouth open slightly, as if he were in a trance. And Manly realized that they weren’t having a conversation. The. woman was casting a spell.
He’d been wrong. It wasn’t the President that she was after. It was the man who was closest to her. If the necromancer who controlled her could also control the President’s husband…
“Jesus Christ,” said Manly in a shocked whisper. He was already moving rapidly across the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several Secret Service agents following him, while others remained with the President and her guests. He ducked into the next room and looked around frantically. There was no sign of them. They must have gone out the other door into the hall.
“Where did they go?” asked one of the Secret Service agents, coming up behind him.
“Spread out and find them!” Manly said. “And take her the hell downl Now! Move!”
“DOWN! GET DOWN! Facedown, on the ground! Hands behind your back! NOW! MOVE!”
Small bursts of automatic weapons fire into the air punctuated the shouted commands as the rangers moved quickly through the compound, ordering people to the ground, throwing down those who hesitated even for a second, clubbing anyone who attempted to protest, but there weren’t many of those. The grim, intimidating manner of the soldiers, coupled with the staccato sounds of the chopper blades and the crackle of automatic weapons fire, did its work. Most people immediately dropped wherever they stood. While one soldier covered them, another would quickly truss them up, first the tape around the mouth and eyes, then around the hands. The men moved quickly, fanning out across the grounds, and within moments, dozens of immobilized robed figures, lying facedown, dotted the courtyards.
Already panicked by the aerial battle between the dragons and the choppers, the residents of the enclave were too shocked, frightened, and disoriented to offer any sort of resistance. Those whom Talon had made his acolytes were no longer among them, having been sent out on their deadly missions, and the remainder had no idea what was going on or why.
The violent battle in the air they had just witnessed gave them dramatic proof that this wasn’t some sort of exercise and that the soldiers meant business. When the rangers stormed the enclave, yelling at them to get down and firing their weapons into the air, most of them simply dropped to the ground and covered their heads without a moment’s hesitation. Those inside the buildings had all been drawn out by the spectacle of the aerial battle and most of the residents had simply congregated in the courtyard, following some ancient herd instinct. When the chopper came in, they had scattered, running around aimlessly in terror as the gunners raked the area just beyond the walls with machine gun fire, “walking” it right up to the gates to drive everybody back.
The soldiers either heard or saw the explosion when the house next to the mission was destroyed, but they could spare no time for that. With all the gunfire, for all they knew, return fire had come from the house and one of the choppers had leveled it with a missile. Either way, it wasn’t their concern. Their orders were explicit. Immobilize and neutralize everyone within the enclave first and do it fast.
“Sir?” said one of the rangers, glancing up from the prone form of one of the enclave members.
“Come on, mister, that one’s done. Move it!”
“Sir, I think this one’s dead.”
“Damn. You sure? Okay, leave her. Move on.”
“Sir?” another soldier called. “This one’s dead, too.”
The lieutenant ran over to the body, accompanied by the ETC agent assigned to his platoon. There was another one a bit farther off. And another. And another.
“What the hell?” the lieutenant said.
They were all dead. The ones they had already immobilized, the ones they had ordered down to the ground and hadn’t gotten to yet, even those who had been running and had apparently dropped to the ground in obedience to the shouted commands of the soldiers, all were dead. Every one of them.
“Heads up!” the lieutenant shouted, remembering the warning from the briefing—be ready for anything.
The soldiers all stood with their weapons at the ready, glancing nervously all around them. The enclave had suddenly fallen eerily silent. No one moved. Only the staccato beating of the chopper blades as they circled the area broke the stillness on the mountaintop.
“They’ve all been drained of life force,” said Billy, as he straightened up from one body, then bent over another one. “This one, too. Bloody hell, every single one of them’s been drained.”
“What does that mean?” asked Foster.
“It means the s
hit’s about to hit the fan,” said Billy grimly.
And then they heard a distant rumble and the ground below their feet started to shake.
Talon stood atop the stone altar surmounted by the glowing crystalline formation that held his immortal captives. Beams of thaumaturgic force lanced down from the massive crystals, bathing him in swirling light that funneled around him like a vortex, whipping his robes and hair and raising a wind that moaned inside the vast cavern as it whistled through the rock formations, howling as it picked up speed.
Things had not worked out quite the way he’d planned, but that made little difference now. He was prepared for this contingency. He had planned for a long time. His acolytes had failed in their mission against the avatars in New York, but he had anticipated that. It had still been worth the risk. Even if he had only managed to kill one of them, the power of the Living Triangle could have been broken, diminished to the point where the spell of the Council could no longer attain its full potency. Unfortunately, that had not happened, so he had shifted smoothly to the next phase of his plan.
His acolytes had embarked upon their murderous spree throughout the country, yet even that had failed to distract the avatars. They had left bis acolytes to the human authorities to cope with and had instead concentrated their full attention upon him. Again, he had anticipated that possibility. Beladon and the others had always underestimated the humans. Talon had not done that. The avatars remained his first concern, so the acolytes were all expendable.
All save one.
The dragons had slowed the attack by the human forces, even if they had failed to stop the avatars, and that had bought him enough time to initiate the spell he had already prepared in anticipation of this moment. Confronted with the spell of the Living Triangle at full force, he knew he would need all the power he could possibly command, so he had called up the spell to drain all the members of the enclave, absorbing all their strength and life essence into himself, even as the soldiers stormed the grounds. Then he bolstered it with infusions of concentrated life force from his fellow necromancers held captive in the crystals.