by CM Raymond
Mika looked up. Her mother’s face had changed from sadness to pride.
“When most rushed away from danger, your father ran toward it, fueled by a love for this place and its people that went deeper than a love for his own life.” She stroked his hair, salt and peppered, showing his age. “I tried to follow but he pleaded with me to go back.”
“He fought alone?” Mika asked as she inspected her father’s skin, which was already turning purple and swollen.
Shaking her head, her mother said, “No. There were others. Jurgen stood with him.” She laughed. “And Vlad, with his damned crazy eyes and crooked smile. I watched from a distance as they stood against the beast. Vlad, the damned fool, ran in first, but he was no match for the beast.” She looked up at the sky as if to pay homage to the fallen soldier—or the Matriarch. “Your dad and Jurgen were smarter. They knew their task wasn’t to win, but to buy time for the rest of us. The thing had already smashed its way through a dozen houses. That was when the fires started.”
She recounted the story of her father’s and his friend’s tactics, luring the beast in and then retreating, over and over. It was a game of cat and mouse, the mice narrowly escaping the predator from another world.
“And it worked. They saved many.” She smiled, and this time it was authentic, a true expression of her love for the man who had saved so many. She nodded. “It is time to say goodbye to your father before he passes over to the other side.”
Mika could feel the tears sting her face. She swiped them away with the back of her hand, wanting to be strong for the woman who had always been so strong for her. She shook her head. “It isn’t over, Mother. We have healers with us. Powerful ones.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. Magic was a part of their world. Many in Urai had developed physical magic not unlike the Arcadians’, though theirs was somewhat less elegant. But healing magic was still foreign to them.
“Ezekiel is here.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Is it true?”
“Yes. He has returned, and he has brought with him his understudy, a woman named Hannah. We need to get him to them. I think they can heal this.” She gestured to her father. Shifting to her knees, she started to lift the man’s muscular frame. “Help me with him. We must hurry!”
****
The giant bear lifted his chin and roared into the smoke-filled sky. Olaf wasn’t a stranger to the people, but his animal scream was still terrifying to them.
Turning his eight-hundred-pound body, Olaf dashed for the burning house, picking up momentum as he did. Just before impact with the barricaded door, he lowered his shoulder. The stubborn oak shattered like glass.
Smoke poured out of the new opening and heat hit his face, but he didn’t even pause. Olaf refused to allow the girl with the beautiful big eyes to become an orphan, not if he could do anything about it. He ran into the fire on all fours, holding his breath in his massive lungs.
Flames singed his beautiful coat as he dashed through the bottom floor and up the staircase, which threatened to collapse under his weight. He paused at the top and sniffed the air, trying to catch the scent of the girl’s father through the smoke.
Got it. Olaf turned for the back of the house.
A wall of flames danced between him and the door. Taking three quick strides, he leapt, cutting through the flames and continuing down the hall before battering down the door. Olaf’s bright yellow eyes landed on a body on the floor next to the bed. The room had nearly been swallowed by flames.
Almost certainly it was only the shell of what had once been a man. Nevertheless, Olaf crossed the room, bit down on the man’s cloak, and dragged him back the way he had come.
Halfway down the stairs, Olaf felt the wood crumple beneath him. If he were in the form of a man, an expletive would have been just perfect. Instead, he let out a mighty roar as the staircase collapsed beneath him, dropping him, the man, and a mess of flaming debris into thin air.
****
Hannah dashed from house to house, working in a frenzy to save as much of the little town as possible. When she reached structures so engulfed in flames that there was no hope of a living soul inside, she smothered the fires with her forcefield. She used water and ice to douse smaller fires.
The Uraians, not a people to stand idly by, joined her, tossing buckets of water and dirt onto the flames. Driven by a love for their homes, they did anything they could to save them. As she danced through the streets using her gift in the service of these strangers, she remembered her own home—the Boulevard—and how it had nearly destroyed her to see it ruined by Adrien. The memory fueled her passions and her magic.
Black smoke loomed over the town. The fires were dwindling and she knew they were winning the fight, but it wasn’t over yet. Sprinting around the corner of a house still untouched by the flames, she found another with fire licking out the second-floor windows. A line of people were passing buckets, refilling them from some source outside her line of sight. Hannah ran toward them, focusing on the power within and praying she could keep going. She was strong—stronger than ever—but the rescue efforts were taking a toll on her energy levels.
As she sprinted to help, she watched a man, the one closest to the home, screaming for his neighbors to quicken the pace. His desperation made it clear that they were trying to save his home. Face red and sweat dripping from every pore, he was resolute, but Hannah knew the truth of the matter. His home was too far gone.
Still ten yards away, Hannah noticed what the townspeople were too busy to see. The burning house was leaning, its structural integrity compromised by the flames eating it from the inside out. Its owner stood oblivious below its bending frame.
“Get out of there,” Hannah yelled. She waved her arms, but they were too involved to notice.
It all happened in slow motion.
Shit! she thought, as the second story began its descent toward its owner.
Instinct took over and Hannah’s eyes flashed red. With a crack, she disappeared and reappeared next to the man. She grabbed him and pulled him toward her. Too drained to teleport again, she used what strength she had left to jump away from the plummeting home. She rolled to the ground, gripping the man to her like a mother with a child.
She stayed on top of him as debris rained down over them.
When all fell quiet, she pushed up and looked at the man, who was wide-eyed in shock.
Hannah shifted her weight. “I’d better get off you. Don’t want to make you all hot and bothered…again.” She laughed at her own joke, but the man just laid there.
Finally he stuttered, “Wh-wh-where’d you come from?”
“Arcadia, originally.” She stood, then reached down to pull him to his feet. “By way of kicking ass.”
****
Flames licked Olaf’s naked body as his eyes fluttered open. A bearded face with surprisingly youthful eyes stared at him from inches away. “Ezekiel? Are we dead?”
The old man glanced over his shoulder at the smoke and flames devouring the small house. “If we are, I’m afraid we went to the wrong side of the Beyond. Let’s get you and this guy out of here.”
He grabbed Olaf and the man by their arms as his eyes blazed red. Before Olaf could respond, they were in the center square of Urai.
“That’s one way to do it,” Olaf grunted as he dropped onto his belly. He hacked and coughed, his lungs trying to push the smoky soot out of his body. The man he had gone into the house after was comatose next to him. “Is he gone?”
Ezekiel shook his head. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Laying his hands on the man’s chest, Ezekiel closed his eyes and focused his energy, sending enough into the man to heal his body. There were many injured people he needed to attend to—it would be a tiring endeavor.
The man’s eyes shot open as he gasped for air. Before he could even orient himself to what the hell had happened, his eyes begged for answers. His mouth soon followed. “Mia?” he shouted at Olaf.
“She
’s safe. I got her.”
The man bent and rested his forehead on the hard-packed dirt of the square, weeping with joy. “Thank the Matriarch.”
Olaf looked up at Ezekiel. “We never would have made it out of there alive. I owe you one.”
Ezekiel smiled. “Can I call in the favor now?”
“Name it.”
Pointing at Olaf’s dangling man-parts, Ezekiel requested, “Go find some clothes. There are women and children around, and I think they have suffered enough psychological damage for one day.”
Olaf laughed. “Agreed.”
“And, Olaf, you have to know. Mika’s dad—he stood up to the Skrim and nearly lost.”
“Nearly?”
Ezekiel nodded. “When we found them he was on the verge of death. I stabilized him, and now Hannah is doing a bit more work. You should check in on them when you get the chance.”
For the next two hours the healthy walked the city giving aid to those still in need. The worst of them were brought to the square to be healed by the foreign magicians. With the help of a few other men, Karl and Olaf did what they could to extinguish the rest of the fires, each of them shaking their heads at the level of destruction the thing had leveled on Urai.
As the shadows grew long, Karl looked at Olaf. “Hell of a thing.”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure is. I’m looking forward to tearing my claws into that monster.”
Karl had traveled enough outside his home in the Heights to realize just how blessed they were to live beyond the reach of the remnant and most of the marauders that stalked the lowlands looking for something to raid. Their lives, in comparison, were easy, even if he did spend plenty of time talking about how it had made his people soft.
Rebuilding had become a fact of life in Irth after the Age of Madness, and would continue in all parts of it. But here in Urai, he realized just how devastating it might be to lose all that you had spent a lifetime building. A single attack by one of these things could set people back generations. The idea of an army of those bastards coming through at once was horrifying.
They turned for the square, guts growling for food. The aroma of roasting meats and vegetables hit his nose and then his stomach from three blocks away. “Smells damned good.”
Olaf nodded. “They’re good people. Mika might be the best of them, but I’m a bit biased. The others aren’t far off.”
As they stepped into the square, Karl could see what he meant. People were moving in every direction, bringing aid to the injured, food to the workers, and putting up temporary structures for those whose homes had been destroyed. Others were out of sight, working to dig the graves that would be the final homes of the recently departed.
Olaf stopped and crossed his arms, a smile on his face. “See what I mean?”
“Scheisse, they’re a good crew indeed.” He glanced at the makeshift infirmary set up on the west side of the square. “Mika’s pa?”
“He’ll be fine, thanks to Ezekiel and the girl. Without them, no medical care in Irth could have saved him.” He laughed. “Even if he is one of the hardest sons of bitches I’ve ever met. Apparently, he and two others stood face to face with the beast. Damn guy knew he didn’t stand a chance, but he thought his sacrifice might save a head or two. Turns out he may have saved half the town, and he lived to tell about it—not that he’s one to brag.”
Karl snorted. “I’ll be glad to brag for ‘im. Lookin’ forward to meeting…” His voice trailed off.
“Kir. His name is Kir. Like I said though, he’s a proud man, so don’t lavish him with praise.”
Karl nodded. “I understand ye. But I don’t wanna kiss his ass. He now knows more about the monster than all of us put together. If he’s half the badass ye claim, he’ll have some things ta share.”
Olaf nodded. “Exactly. But first we eat and rest. You look like you could use it.” A slight grin crossed his face.
“What’d’ya mean?” Karl asked, suddenly suspicious.
“I’m just saying that you clearly had a hard day. I mean, look at your beard!”
Karl, for the first time in hours, looked at himself. His hands were covered in grime, and there were a few new holes in his clothing. But the thing that grabbed his attention was the chunk of hair missing from his beard.
“Son of a bastard!” he screamed as he plucked at it with his hand.
“Looks like it was singed clean off,” Olaf said, trying to suppress his laughter.
“The beast will pay for this. Mark my words,” the rearick grumbled, before turning to the food.
He grabbed a bowl from the end of a long wooden table, which had been charred by the fires. A row of older men and women stood on the other side dishing out roasted beef and vegetables.
“Thank ya, lass,” Karl said as a kind-looking woman provided a heaping portion. Her hair was in disarray and a cut ran up the side of her gentle face.
She smiled and nodded. “No, thank you, rearick. I have already heard that you were the one who saved my daughter and grandson from certain death.” She slid another thick slice of medium-rare meat onto his plate—a small offering of her gratefulness.
Sitting on a small stool at the end of the table was a barrel with mugs on top. Olaf pointed. “They’re hard workers, and they make great ale. Grab a mug.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Karl said as he drew some brew, already forgetting about the insult to his facial hair. He sipped from the mug and raised his bushy brows. ‘Damn, that’s good. Hard to find somethin’ worth more than me piss outside the Heights.”
Olaf laughed as he drew his own. “Can’t say I’m glad to be thinking about your piss as I drink, but it shouldn’t slow me too much.”
They found Ezekiel and Hannah on the outer ring beyond the Uraian citizens. Both looked drawn, as if they hadn’t slept in months. Hannah was hunched over her plate devouring every last morsel she could find, while Ezekiel sat, plate untouched, watching the people take care of one another.
“May we join you?” Olaf asked.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Ezekiel said, spreading his hand toward an open spot on the grass next to them. Only once Olaf and Karl had both started did Ezekiel tear off a corner of a roll and pop it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly.
Hannah hadn’t looked up, but when she did her mouth hung open. “Karl...your beard.”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” he snapped.
Olaf laughed. “I think it looks good. When we catch up with the Skrim, you should thank it for the shave.”
“I’ll shave its ass with me hammer!” Karl shouted. Hannah nearly choked, she was laughing so hard.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” she said, spitting out food.
“Aye, keep talking and I’ll make it make sense!” the rearick said, reaching for his hammer.
“That doesn’t make sense either.”
Karl looked for a second like he was going to blow his lid, but then a slow smile crept across his face. He looked down at his burnt beard and the hammer in his hand, and burst out laughing.
They talked and laughed and each told their stories of rescues in the city. Urai was in rough shape for sure, but if it hadn’t been for Hannah and her team, it would have been utterly ruined.
“You all did a fine job,” Hannah said. “Even Sir Karl the Shorn.”
“Screw you,” he grunted. “And what about that damned lizard? The hell’d he do?” Karl asked. He pointed at Sal, who was curled up asleep at Hannah’s side.
Olaf shook his head. “The spiny beast did his part. Saw him dragging souls out of a building. And you should’ve seen the townspeople—thought they were being attacked again. One boy screamed that the green monster was eating his daddy until he realized Sal was saving his pa.”
Hannah gave Sal a hard pat on the side, which caused Sal to open one eye for a second before falling back to sleep. “That’s my boy!”
Ezekiel cleared his throat. “We don’t know where the Skrim is going next, but we have t
o find that creature before any other citizens of Archangelsk suffer from its assaults.”
“We should talk some to Kir—Mika’s pa. As he was coming to after the healing, he said the thing turned east as it ran.” Olaf shook his head. “Last thing he saw before going unconscious.”
“What’s to the east?” Hannah asked, still chewing on a hunk of roasted beef.
Olaf shrugged. “That’s the strange thing—there’s nothing out there. Nothing good, at least. In Archangelsk we call it the Bezum Mesto.”
“Which means?” Hannah asked.
Ezekiel sighed. “Roughly translated, the Madlands.”
“Scheisse,” Karl snorted. “You mean it ran into a damn hive of remnant?”
Olaf drank from his mug. “Sounds like it.”
“Why would it do that?” Hannah wondered out loud, but then the question that had been gnawing on her all day came out. “Why the hell did the thing come north, anyway?”
“‘I’ve been wondering the same,” Olaf answered. “They’ve been coming out of the Rift every few months for years, but now it seems that everything is changing. Not only did they get bigger, but they came back to back. It’s unprecedented. Before, they would come through the Rift and attack New Romanov. Every time. Predictable. Like clockwork.”
Karl laughed. “Seems the damn beasts are afraid of me hammer. Can’t say I blame ‘em. I’d run from meself if I could.”
“Karl,” Hannah asked with a look of concern on her face, “did you get hit on the head in one of those flaming buildings? Because you’re still not making any sense.”
He scoffed and waved his hand at her.
Ezekiel set his plate aside and packed his pipe with some of the Archangelsk weed that he had acquired before leaving New Romanov. Flicking his finger, he made a flame and hovered it over the mouth of the bowl, drawing long and slow. His normal look of repose that accompanied the action was missing. Face drawn in thought, he blew rings into the dusky night air.
“What if it was strategic?” the old wizard asked, his eyes on Olaf.
Olaf’s face twisted. He looked older than he had for days. Centuries of experience left their mark, and Hannah saw it for the first time in the lines around his eyes. “Can’t be. Well, could be, I guess. But the beasts I‘ve seen have been filled with nothing but rage.”