by Allan Cole
The ogre laughed most evilly.
Vlad turned and exited without saying thank you, much less goodbye. His mind was churning with hundreds of half-formed thoughts.
He chased them away and went swiftly to the special little grav-van he’d ordered to be waiting for him upon his arrival in New Russia. Inside, he turned on the strong shielding system that blanked out all known snooping devices.
Then he chanted a spell and the Hound came to life. “Ready to search, master,” said the invisible Tanya Lawson.
How could this be? How could this unseen creature possibly manage …
“You were thinking very intensely about this person, master,” came the answer to Vlad’s unspoken question. “I was searching your mind for clues, master.”
“But …” Vlad blushed. There were too many hot dreams and visions for anyone to dig in …
“I’m staying out of what humans call ‘moral areas,’ master,” the Hound said in Tanya’s voice. “And you can eliminate all auxiliary material that would be dragged from your memory. But now … This Davyd Kells? Yes. The search has begun.”
The world around Vlad became dim and gray and he felt as if he had been enveloped by a thick, dry mist. He shivered and clenched his teeth. Although he knew his refuge in the van was quite safe, he hated not being able to see what was going on.
It would be so easy for his enemy to find him and take aim!
Vlad stirred, but then the stern voice of the bodiless Investigator Lawson warned him:
“Remain motionless, master. I… must … locate the astral trace … according … to the … imprints in your memory …
“Yes! Lock! Okay … tracing … locating …”
At that moment Vlad broke into a cold sweat. Davyd was near! Dammit, he was near! Vlad could sense the Hound stretching out … stretching out …
Vlad’s glands overflowed with combat hormones. Pumping them through his veins. And for a moment a red haze of hate obscured his view.
And then, through the Hound, he sensed Davyd shaking off the hook and escaping.
Vlad sucked in air, as if rising from cold, salty depths. He fought to return his system to normal.
“Search failure,” Tanya’s voice announced. Then: “New search, master?”
“No! Not yet.” Vlad’s mouth was as dry as desert sand in midday. “But can you check to see if a similar Hound system was used to detect us?”
“Of course.” It seemed that the Hound was annoyed by his stupidity and lack of faith in her. Then: “Shall I establish a permanent guard circle, master?”
“No,” Vlad said once more.
A nasty lump slipped down his throat. His stomach felt as if it was being squeezed in a vise.
To establish a permanent guard circle would be the ultimate stupid deed.
Surely Davyd would expect something like that. And surely he would possess tools of no less power than Vlad’s. And surely Davyd had been alerted by Vlad’s search.
And now Kells knew exactly what kind of weapon Vlad had used to find him. Davyd might not know exactly where Vlad was. But he’d discover his location soon enough.
Vlad had two choices: (1) Get the hell as fast as possible. Or, (2) Remain in the area— with all the fiendish systems shut down. And to use only his eyes and combat senses to guard him while he waited for Davyd.
Of course, Vlad had a few other aces up his sleeve. Such as several ancient spells the Church of The Sword had kept secret for hundreds of years. Perhaps these spells would be a good surprise even for the great Davyd Kells.
Vlad stuffed his gear into a self propelled hoverpack and exited the van. He looked up and down the street until he saw what he needed: It was a small hotel. A two-storied house with solid stone walls and narrow windows.
It was stylized after a medieval castle and the section facing the street had two small towers on each corner.
Casually, he strode down the street and went through the doors.
“How may I help you, sir?” asked the clerk behind the large counter.
“Do you have any rooms available in either of the towers?” Vlad asked. “They look charming, absolutely charming.”
“Oh yes, sir, surely. On the second floor, the one to the right. The cost is quite reasonable …”
Playing his role, Vlad rented the room and paid in advance for three days. Although he was fairly certain he wouldn’t need it for more than three hours. Well, nevertheless, he’d be ready.
The tower chamber was just as good as he expected— roomy, with an excellent sightline along the two main streets. It also boasted thick doors made of old oak.
Oak! That was excellent. The Church Of The Sword had the best of relations with the spirits of those ancient trees.
Vlad ordered the hoverpack to spill its contents on the bed.
And he swiftly got to work.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
As the pirate ship prepared to land on GS-1, the Hamilton and Rubin lurked behind a screen of orbiting meteorites.
Aboard the Hamilton, Tanya monitored the renegade Engine Devil’s instructions to the fiendish crew that operated the ship’s systems.
Although obviously drunk, the demon displayed that breed’s typical perfectionism as he barked orders to his spirit world charges.
Tanya heard him chant a snooping spell, then saw the lights of her monitor board blink madly as the spell swept through the meteorite swarm that hid the UWP ships.
She held her breath as the powerful magical particles penetrated the Hamilton’s hull, making her skin crawl and her hair stand on end.
Then the spell passed harmlessly by, giving no alarm, and she heard the Engine Devil bark the all clear for landing.
Moon swiveled his control chair about, beaming a big grin and giving Tanya a thumb’s up sign. Rhodes had just reported in from the Rubin that the ship’s system had also dodged the spell and all was well to proceed.
Tanya breathed a sigh of relief. The two stealth ships had easily shrugged off the best magical snooping technology the sophisticated pirate vessel could bring to bear.
For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, her hopes were rising.
She motioned to Moon, giving him the “go” signal. They’d maintained complete silence since they’d spotted the pirate ship and would continue to do so until the crucial moment.
Their human prey wasn’t so sensible. The minute the Engine Devil announced there was no danger, the pirates immediately started chattering like monkeys.
Through her old-fashioned electrical earphones, Tanya could hear them boasting about their most recent raid. And debating the merits of the different kinds of debauchery they’d be able to enjoy once they’d unloaded their ill-gotten gains.
The instant the pirate ship disappeared from sight— settling down through the thick mists that perpetually shrouded GS-1— Moon signaled Rhodes via the deep-cover radio channel the stealth vessels favored. And the hunt began.
GS-1 was a smuggler’s paradise. Eternally blanketed by heavy mists and fog, the small planet’s several mountainous continents were covered by thick, fern-like forests. There were so many potential hiding places it would take years to investigate them all.
Tanya had heard stories about whole communities of criminals so well concealed that an unsuspecting person could amble halfway through one of the towns before realizing she was no longer in the middle of a wilderness.
As the Hamilton and Rubin swept down to the surface and the monitor screens revealed the great fern forests waving their fronds in the mist, Tanya saw for herself that those stories were not exaggerations.
Hot spots indicating thousands of living creatures red peppered her screen, yet when she looked through the Hamilton’s wide viewing port all she could see was the gray humps of low mountain ranges and the shadowy, greenish black shapes of the forests that covered them.
For Tanya the experience was one more proof of her firm Luddite belief in the superiority of mechanical over magical technology. In
her mind the only benefit magic had brought to human beings— and this was dubious, considering the ongoing crisis— was the ability to travel through space at post-light speed.
Since she was no use to Moon and Rubin during the stealth chase of the pirate ship, she let her mind roam over those sticky matters.
What would the present be like, she wondered if spirit world magic hadn’t buried the technology of her ancestors?
There’d be no wizards— and what would be wrong with that? There’d also be no fiendish creatures occupying every household device. A blessing, as far as Tanya was concerned.
And she also wondered— taking her idle thoughts to the limit— if there’d even be a war between the Russians and Americans.
Was all the intense xenophobic hate that infected the human race the result of its total reliance on sorcery?
There was a time, she recalled from her history lessons, that Russia and America had nearly laid down their arms and embraced one another as brothers.
What had happened?
What had stopped the peace and propelled the Cold War forward for another thousand years?
Which brought her back to Davyd and Vlad and their mysterious exchange when they’d met in the neutral setting of her UWP chartered ship.
They’d evoked the names of George Bush and Vladimir Putin. Two national leaders assassinated during the first years of the Twenty First Century.
What the hell was that all about?
And, as impossible as it might seem, did it have something to do with what was going on now?
Tanya’s pulse quickened as idle speculation suddenly began to solidify into something real. Something pertinent.
What if Davyd and Vlad were the assassins?
But that was impossible, you stupid woman. Neither of them looked more than thirty five. And Bush and Putin were killed a thousand years ago.
Except … except …
And then Moon abruptly signaled her, breaking her train of thought.
She felt suddenly emptied, bewildered and shattered as all her speculations turned to dust.
Moon signaled again, then pointed at her monitor. Dully, she looked down at the screen.
The pirate ship had landed.
Now the shooting was about to begin.
* * *
Many light years away— in land of red rolling plains and purple rivers— little Billy Ivanov danced about a campfire singing at the top of his lungs:
“O look and behold
The Planets that love us
All harnessed in gold!
What chariots, what horses
Against us shall bide
While the Stars in their courses
Do fight on our side?”
Old Scratch scraped away a tear with his scaly claw, overcome with emotion.
The song, which he’d taught Billy, was from one of the Engine Devil’s favorite Kipling poems: “The Astrologers Song.” And the boy’s high clear tenor gave it deeper meaning than it had ever held for Scratchy before.
Voice shimmering under the swirling stars, Billy sang on:
“All thought, all desires,
That are under the sun,
Are one with their fires,
As we also are one:
All matter, all spirit,
All fashion, all frame,
Receive and inherit
Their strength from the same.”
Scratchy turned to look at his companions, who were gathered around the fire, gazing at Billy with misty eyes.
Most were escaped spirit world folk; fiends of every size and kind: tiny gremlins, misty goblins, electric DeathSpirits, great-mawed MotherDemons and on and on, too many to mention.
Twenty of them were humans who had fled repression on their home planets. They were dressed in the skins of exotic beasts hunted for their meat and hide on the rolling red plains.
It was a strange group— certainly stranger than any Scratch had seen in his long life. But they all had one thing in common: they were outcasts, hunted ones, with bounties on their heads.
Just like Scratch and Billy.
Scratch thought of the long, arduous flight that brought them to this rebel world, where fiends and humans lived side by side.
His friends had smuggled the Engine Devil and the boy aboard a rusty old freighter bound for GS-1— the pirates’ haven. Scratchy didn’t trust those human criminals one bit and it was a good thing, because several thugs had attacked him and the boy in their sleeping places the first night.
Scratch had slain one of them— ripping the pirate from stem to stern with a mighty claw— and the others had fled, their ears burning from the hot swear words he’d hurled after them.
From GS-1, they’d hopped a rebel freighter his friends had provided and after many days they’d finally come to this outpost of the spirit world.
The renegade fiends and humans had given the boy and the Engine Devil a rousing welcome. Apparently the story of their deeds— defying both Rooskie and Amer wizards and warriors— had penetrated even to this wild place.
And so it was that they were given a home— only a hut, but quite comfortable, Scratchy thought— in a friendly village which sat upon the banks of a wide purple river teaming with things easy to hunt and good to eat.
Billy had charmed one and all with his kindness and boyish enthusiasm. Also, even the strongest fiends were impressed with his growing magical powers and they counted themselves lucky to have such a mighty human wizard— no matter how young— join their grand cause.
It was this cause, however, which gave Old Scratch pause about remaining among these beings. Wild idealists all, their oft-stated holy purpose was to rid the galaxy of the two great softskin empires who had kept all creatures under their thumbs.
Although Scratchy sympathized with them, he didn’t see how it was possible and feared he and boy would be swept up in their doomed revolution against two such mighty giants.
What else could he do but remain among them? There was no place else he and Billy could go. At least not right away, that is. Scratch had half-formed ideas about getting Billy and himself to the star system of his birth, where wild Engine Devils still roamed.
But as yet he hadn’t figured out how to get his hands on a ship that would take them there.
There was also a large dead goblin floating in that idea soup. Once they arrived, what would Billy do? The atmosphere of Scratchy’s home planet was hostile to softskins. The boy couldn’t live in a magical protective bubble all his life.
And even if a way could be found to overcome that problem, Billy would soon become lonely for his own kind.
Scratchy sighed, feeling very sorry for Billy— and himself. But then the boy’s voice broke through his depression and he smiled as he listened to the last thrilling verses of the song:
“… Though terrors o’ertake us
We’ll not be afraid.
No power can unmake us
Save that which has made.
Nor yet beyond reason
Or hope shall we fall—
All things have their season,
And Mercy crowns all!
Then, doubt not, ye fearful—
The Eternal is King—
Up, heart, and be cheerful,
And lustily sing:—
What chariots, what horses
Against us shall bide
While the Stars in their courses
Do fight on our side?”
The fiends and humans applauded Billy’s performance with much enthusiasm. He blushed and grinned, bobbing his head in thanks.
Then he ran to Old Scratch’s side, crying: “Isn’t this grand, Scratchy? I’ll bet there’s not another boy in the whole galaxy who’s had such a great adventure!”
Scratchy wanted to tell the boy everything was not as good as it appeared. That awful men were hunting them and he feared they’d come on them soon.
He opened his mouth to speak those words of caution, but then Billy threw himself into
the Engine Devil’s arms, saying, “Oh, thank you, Scratchy! Thank you! I’ve never had a real family before. And now you’ve given me one!”
Old Scratch bit back his warning. And he clumsily patted the boy with a huge claw.
“It’s good to see thee happy, O Little Friend of the World,” he said instead. “And I am pleased to be the cause of so much joy.”
* * *
Tanya coldly surveyed the line of prisoners drawn up before her. Most ducked their heads in fear as her narrowed eyes fell upon them, then swept onward. A few glowered defiance and her eyes stopped, fixing each unruly felon with a soul-piercing glare.
Invariably she’d win this contest of wills and soon the pirate’s eyes would become frightened and he’d quickly shift his gaze downward, as if he’d suddenly found something of absorbing interest about his feet.
Her UWO marines stood guard over the prisoners, their weapons at the ready, their eyes almost as fierce and intimidating as Tanya’s.
Framing the prisoners was the bullet-chewed corpse of the freighter they’d tracked to this landing zone. To the left was a large hangar— once artfully camouflaged to blend in with the forest. Now shattered by the guns of the Hamilton and Rubin.
The two ships hung above the scene, gunports peeled back to show their teeth. Wood smoke columned upward, flowing around the narrow bellies of the vessels. The smoke was rising off the blackened remains of the trees the two fighting ships had blasted into fiery splinters during the initial attack.
Unfortunately for the pirates, their commanders had tried to resist when the Hamilton and Rubin had swooped down into the clearing— loudspeakers blaring demands for their immediate surrender to the United Worlds Police.
The felons had answered that lawfully delivered demand with a barrage of fire. They’d even gotten off one missile.