by Butcher, Jim
“We need to get to the center of the spell,” I finished. “Attack them just as they try to draw it down.”
“It’s impossible,” Morgan said. “I got close enough to see them when we went in for the children. They’re in a little patch of grass and picnic tables between the buildings. There are several hundred animated corpses in our way.”
“As it happens,” I said, jerking my head at Sue, “I brought an animated corpse countermeasure along with me tonight. I’ll get us through.”
Morgan stared at me for a second and then nodded, the idea clearly gathering momentum in his thoughts. “Yes, then. We try to hit them as they complete the spell. That gives them the most time to backstab one another, and if we disrupt a working that powerful, the backlash will probably kill them.”
“Agreed,” Luccio said. “How’s Yoshimo?”
“Ramirez says her thigh is broken,” Morgan growled. “She’s not in danger but she won’t be doing any more fighting tonight.”
“Dammit,” Luccio said. “I should have caught that one before it went through.”
“No, Captain,” Morgan said implacably. “She should never have tried her sword on it. She was an unremarkable fencer, at best.”
“Gosh you’re a sweetheart, Morgan,” I said.
He glared at me, and the sword quivered in his hands.
Luccio brought her hand down between us in a gesture of absolute authority. “Gentlemen,” she said quietly. “Later. We’ve no time.”
Morgan took a deep breath in and then nodded.
I folded my arms and kept up my glower, but I hadn’t been the one near violence. Point, Dresden.
“I’ve done for Grevane’s drummer, and Sue just ate Corpsetaker’s sidekick,” I said. “That leaves us with those two and Cowl, plus Cowl’s assistant.”
“Four of them and five of us,” Morgan said.
Luccio grimaced. “It could be worse,” she admitted. “But only you and I have any experience with this kind of fight.” She glanced at me. “No offense, Dresden, but you’re young, and you haven’t seen this kind of duel very often—but even you have more experience than Ramirez or Kowalski.”
“None taken,” I said, beginning to shiver in the rain. “I’d rather be home in bed.”
“Morgan, please get the other Wardens and fill them in. Then put Yoshimo where she can see the front door and defend the building. If things don’t go well, we may need somewhere to fall back.”
“If things don’t go well,” I said, “we really won’t have to worry about that.”
Morgan shook his head at me. “I’ll be right back.”
I stood there for a moment. A mangled zombie wandered up the sidewalk. I walked back to Sue and touched her flank and her thoughts, and she flicked her tail, batting the thing away into the darkness. Then I walked back over to Luccio.
“Incredible,” she said quietly, looking at Sue. “Dresden, this…this kind of magic is an abomination. Perhaps a necessary one this night, but hideous all the same. And yet look at it. It’s amazing.”
“Pretty good for zombie crushing too,” I said.
“Indeed.” She looked up at the sky again. “How will we know when they begin drawing down the power?”
I started to say, “Your guess is as good as mine,” but I didn’t get any of it out of my mouth before the clouds rolled and stirred and suddenly began to spin in a single enormous spiral. More lightning showed me the dim form of what looked like a thin, almost spidery tornado that dropped from the cloud and began to descend to the ground.
I stiffened and nodded at it. “There you go,” I said. “They’re starting now.”
“Very well,” Luccio said. “Then we must move at once. I want you to—”
Luccio didn’t get to tell me what she wanted me to do, because the earth suddenly boiled with writhing masses of pale green light that came surging up out of the ground. They took on form as they came, first vaguely human, then over the next instants resolving into clearer images of what looked like Amerind tribesmen. As they came, their mouths opened in shrieks and wails of excitement and rage, and ghostly weapons appeared in their hands—spears and hatchets, clubs and bows.
One of them turned and threw a translucent, shimmering spear at my chest. I barely had time to think, but my left arm swept up, my charred shield bracelet exploded into a cloud of blue and white sparks, and the hurled spear shattered into angry green flames against my shield. I heard a short cry beside me and ducked, narrowly avoiding a swing from a spectral hatchet whose wielder floated over me. I threw myself forward and rolled, coming up with my shield ready and my will gathering in my staff, making the sigils carved along its length glow with sullen fire.
A specter swung a club at Luccio, and she rolled with the blow, but even so took a hit to her jaw and mouth that staggered her. She recovered her balance, ducked to avoid a second swing, and once more drew the silver sword of a Warden from her hip. Again the blade sang with that buzzing power I’d sensed before, and Luccio made a clean lunge at the specter that thrust the blade through its heart. The specter arched as if in agony and then simply exploded into flashes of sickly light and falling globs of ectoplasm. Luccio swept her sword back and spun on a heel to face two more of the quasi-solid spirits.
I blocked a second blow of the hatchet on my shield, looking wildly around for Butters. I spotted the little guy five yards away, on his hands and knees on the crosswalk, his legs still kicking wildly to keep the drum going. Three of the deadly specters were closing in on him with wails of madness and rage.
“Butters!” I shouted, and rose to go to him, but two more specters dove at me and forced me to crouch behind my shield. I could only watch what happened as the three undead swarmed Butters and attacked him.
Butters spun around wildly, his eyes down, evidently not even aware that they were coming. One of them swung a great two-handed club back, as Butters put one hand to his mouth and then slammed it back down on the ground again. The specter’s weapon swept down with a clean and lethal grace, heading directly for the back of Butters’s head.
And suddenly shattered against the curving curtain of an empowered circle.
Butters looked up at the specters as they flailed uselessly against the circle. He had the piece of chalk I’d given him in one hand, and he’d torn the little cut he’d used before open once more with his teeth. He stood up, the drum still thumping, and gave me a shaky thumbs-up.
“Good, Butters!” I shouted at him. “Stay in there!”
He nodded, his face pale, and marched in place to keep the drum going.
I swung my staff at a specter and hit it, and the ghostly warrior reacted as if struck by a heavy brick. It was a curious kind of impact—not the thudding thump of hitting something solid, but some kind of impact nonetheless. I knew from the way that the specters had come up through the earth that they were only partially material. A material impact would have little enough effect on them, and the strength of my arm behind the swing meant nothing to them. But the power of my will that I had called up and held ready in my staff—that was something else. That energy was what the specter reacted to, and I pressed my advantage, whipping my staff through the specter’s head and belly on two separate swings, driving the apparition away with howls of pain.
In the time it took me to do that, Luccio had simply dispatched three more of the specters with the humming power of her Warden’s blade. She looked at me, her eyes wide, and lifted a pointing finger. She snarled a word, and another searing thread of flame shot over my shoulder about eight inches from my right ear. There was a howl, and I turned my head to see another specter that had been charging my back fall, consumed in scarlet flame.
I felt a fierce grin on my face and I turned around to nod my thanks to Luccio—and saw the Corpsetaker come out from under a veil of magic and swing her drawn tulwar at Luccio’s back.
“Captain!” I shouted.
Luccio’s sword arm swept up and around, blade parallel to her spine as she dr
ew it around her shoulders in a circle, and caught Corpsetaker’s attack without even turning to face it. Luccio sprang forward like a cat and spun in place, only to have Corpsetaker press her attack and drive the captain of the Wardens back on her heels.
Corpsetaker’s young face was set in a wide and manic smile, cheeks dimpled, her curly hair flying wildly around her head as she charged. She wore a small skin drum of some kind on a rig at her hip, and she beat a swift tattoo on it with one hand while fighting with the other. A fresh cloud of specters swirled up in support of her, and a flying arrow drew a line of scarlet on Luccio’s cheek.
I roared out a challenge, brandished my staff, and bellowed, “Forzare!” A lance of unseen force lashed out at Corpsetaker, but the necromancer leapt back and away from it. She cried out words in an unknown tongue, and half a dozen specters darted toward me.
I brought up my shield, but was soon hard-pressed to even hold it up against repeated attacks from the specters, and they kept trying to circle around me. If I’d stood my ground they would have killed me, and as much as I wanted to help Luccio, I had no choice but to take one step back after another, until I found my shoulders pressed against Sue’s enormous flank.
But my attack on the Corpsetaker had bought Luccio what she needed to make a fight of things—time to recover from the surprise attack. She cut down two more specters with needles of flame, contemptuously slapped aside another cut from Corpsetaker’s tulwar, and then took the battle to the necromancer, grey cloak flying in the storm’s wind, pressing her hard with the silver rapier and driving Corpsetaker back one step after another.
I dropped the staff and slapped my bare hand on Sue’s hide. Though the dinosaur looked like a living beast, that was only appearance. Her own flesh was made of the same ectoplasm that the specters were—I had just poured enough energy into it to make it seem more solid. She was of the same stuff as the specters—and that meant that she could hurt them.
The Tyrannosaur stirred and then snapped her jaws to one side, closing on a specter and tearing it into fading light and globs of goo. She heaved herself to her feet, eyes sweeping around the ground in front of her for the next specter. It lifted a bow and loosed a glowing green arrow that sank into the muscle of her neck, and she bellowed in pain, but the arrow was no more than a bee’s sting. One clawed foot came up and down and destroyed a second specter. The others let out wails and shouts of fear and anger and spread out to attack Sue, while the dinosaur lashed her tail around and looked for the next victim.
I saw Luccio drive Corpsetaker forward and around the corner of the building out of sight. I’d given the specters a bigger problem to worry about, and I went after Luccio.
“Harry!” Butters shouted, pointing.
I looked up at the building. I heard children screaming inside. Someone—Ramirez, I thought—screamed, “Get down, get down!” There were flashes of luminous green light swirling here and there in the windows. I heard Morgan shout a challenge, and I heard a raucous booming sound from within. The Wardens there were under attack as well.
“Stay put!” I told him, and ran after Luccio.
It was too thick with shadow to see easily around the side of the building, but in a flash of lightning I saw Luccio make another lunge—her technique gorgeous, back leg stretched forward, spine straight, the sword extended and taking the full weight of her body behind its vicious tip. Luccio knew what she was doing. She dipped the tip of her blade under Corpsetaker’s tulwar, and the point sank into the necromancer just under the floating ribs. Corpsetaker’s mad smile never faltered.
The lightning died away and I heard a short, gasping cry.
I took my mother’s pentacle in hand and lifted it, willing light from it. Silver-blue light filled the little space between buildings. I saw Luccio plant her feet, twist the blade viciously, and whip it back out again.
Corpsetaker fell to her knees. She stared down at her chest and then pressed her hands tightly to the wound. She looked up again, staring at Luccio and then at me. Her eyes clouded over with confusion, and she slowly toppled to her side on the grass.
“Excellent,” said Luccio, turning around. She flicked blood from the silver blade and regarded it for a moment, then strode with purposeful steps for the front of the building again. “Come, wizard. We have no time to waste.”
“You’re going to leave her there?”
“She’s finished,” Luccio said harshly. “Come.”
“Are you all right?” I said.
She shot a hard look at me. “Perfectly. Grevane and Cowl remain. We must find them and kill them.” Her eyes flicked to the spiraling clouds overhead. “And quickly. We have only moments. Hurry, fool.”
I stood there for a second, staring at Luccio’s back. I lifted the pentacle and looked at Corpsetaker’s body, lying on its side in the rain. She twitched a little, her dark eyes wide and staring blindly, her face pale.
And my stomach twisted in sudden fear.
I stepped around the corner of the building with my .44 in my hand, aimed it at the back of Luccio’s head, drew back the hammer, and shouted, my voice harsh and hard, “Corpsetaker!”
Luccio’s steps faltered. Her head snapped around to look at me, and in her eyes I saw a brutal cruelty that could never have belonged to the captain of the Wardens.
I felt the first tug of a soulgaze, but I made my decision in the moment that my voice caused her steps to falter. She opened her mouth, and I saw the Corpsetaker’s madness twist Luccio’s eyes, felt the sudden, dark tension as she began to gather power.
She never got it. In that single second of uncertainty, Corpsetaker had been relying upon her disguise to defend her, and had her mind bent upon planning her next step—not preparing her death curse. The bullet from my .44 hit her just over her right cheekbone.
Her head snapped back and then forward. It might have been Luccio’s body, but it was the Corpsetaker’s expression of shock and surprise as the stolen body fell to the ground in a loose tangle of dead limbs.
I heard a low, strangled sound.
I looked up to see Morgan standing in the building’s doorway, sword in hand. He stared at Luccio’s corpse and rasped, “Captain.”
I stared at him for a second, and then fumbled for words. “Morgan. This isn’t what it looks like.”
Morgan’s dark eyes rose to focus on me, and his face twisted with rage. “You.” His voice was deadly quiet. The sword rose to a guard and he stalked out into the rain, and his voice rose to a wrathful roar as the ground—the freaking ground—began to literally shake. “Murderer! Traitor!”
Oh, shit.
Chapter
Forty
Morgan lashed his fist out at me, shouting something that sounded vaguely Greek, and the very rocks of the earth rippled up in a wave that flew toward me with incredible speed.
I had never fought against earth magic in earnest before, but I knew enough about it to not want to be in the way when it got to me. The gun went back in my pocket, and I took my staff in hand and ran for the nearest tree. I thrust the staff back at the earth as I ran, gathered in my will, and shouted, “Forzare!”
Unseen force lashed out at the ground behind me and flung me up at an angle. I hit the branches of the tree maybe ten feet up and scrambled wildly to grab one. I did it, and though it shook the tree like a blow from a giant ax, the wave of power went by under me without, oh, sucking me under the ground or crushing me or anything like that. I can’t imagine that whatever Morgan had in mind was less than horribly violent.
Morgan bellowed in rage and charged toward me, sword in hand. I jerked my legs up and he missed my ankles, if not by much. He snarled in rage, whirled with the silver sword of the Wardens abruptly emitting a low howling sound, and struck at the trunk of the tree in a motion of focus and power that reminded me of way too many Kurosawa movies. There was a flash of light as the blade cut all the way through the tree’s trunk, the heat of all that force setting both sides of the cut on fire as the tree started to f
all.
I dropped clear and rolled as the tree fell out toward the street, and Morgan darted to one side, trying to get around the fallen tree to kill me.
“Morgan!” I shouted. “For God’s sake, man! That wasn’t Luccio!”
“Lies!” Morgan snarled. He abandoned chasing me around the tree in favor of simply hacking his way through it, and the sword in his hands howled again and again as he struck, cutting trunk and branches like bits of straw.
“It was the Corpsetaker!” I shouted. “The body thief! She let Luccio gut her and then switched places with her!”
His answer was an almost incoherent snarl. He came the last several feet faster than I could have believed and lashed at me with the sword. I brought my shield up and deflected the blow, but the impact of it slammed painfully against the whole left side of my body. There was more than simply physics behind that blade. I backpedaled out into the street, where several more zombies saw me and headed my way. Specters darted or looped lazily about now, with no sense of purpose in them at all, now that their drum was silent and the Corpsetaker was dead.
“Morgan!” I screamed. “Luccio might still be alive! But not if she doesn’t get help, and soon! We can’t do this!”
“More lies!” He murmured something, the blade in his hands hummed as Luccio’s had, and he flicked it lightly out against my shield.
There was a shrieking scream—in my head, rather than in my ears. I don’t know how to describe it, except to say that bad audio feedback is musical and soothing by comparison. The power in the silver sword hit my defensive shield and simply undid it, unraveled it, so that all the energy in it went flying apart in all directions, while a hot, tingling pain flashed through my left arm where I wore the bracelet.
Morgan attacked in earnest after that little flick of the blade had destroyed my defense, but his first swing was an overhand one, aimed at my temple. I knocked the blade aside with a sweep of my staff, and saw a flash of surprise cross his face at the speed of the parry. He recovered his balance, but I simply ran from him, taking that vital second to get moving again. Morgan cursed and followed me, but I can move, especially for a man my size, and Morgan wasn’t exactly a spring chicken.