Von Bern's minions were dumb, but they weren't suicidal. Screaming in fear, the other four Redcaps turned and bolted back into the darkness. Cassandra flipped several more discs after them, but without scoring any hits. Seconds after the attack had begun, it was over.
"Pretty neat stuff, Jack," said Cassandra, bending over to collect the three red baseball caps. "I'm extremely impressed. Would you care to explain to me what the hell happened? Or are you still keeping secrets?"
"No reason why not," said Jack, drawing in a deep breath, the first one he had taken since the ambush. Until that moment, he had been working on logic alone. Now, finally, he knew his deductions were correct. "Seeing that our element of surprise is past."
"Those dark discs," began Jack, then glimpsed a blur of motion behind the Amazon. "Cassandra, watch out!"
The Amazon barely had time to straighten up when the Gabble Ratchet slammed into her. Instinctively, she threw up her arms and caught the gigantic Corpse Hound by the throat. But the force of its impact sent both of them tumbling backwards to the concrete.
Growling horribly, the Doberman snapped at Cassandra's face with yellow teeth the size of ten-penny spikes. Saliva dripped in pools on the Amazon's neck as she desperately fought to keep the dog's jaws from ripping her features to shreds. Standing, she was a match for the monster, but trapped against the concrete, she was unable to push the creature back. Its red eyes glowing like hot coals, the beast pressed closer and closer.
With all of his strength, Jack smashed the CD boom box onto the Gabble Ratchet's head. Plastic splintered from the impact, but the hound remained unmoved. Cursing, Jack raised the player and crashed it into the dog's head a second time. The Corpse Hound growled in annoyance, but continued to concentrate all its energies on savaging Cassandra.
Finally, remembering the fight at the shopping mall, Jack rammed a speaker into the Gabble Ratchet's nose. Blood spurted in crimson jets from the hound's face. Howling in pain, the Doberman turned from the Amazon and focused its red eyes on Jack.
Anxiously, Jack scrambled away from the beast. Now that he had the monster's attention, he wasn't sure what to do next He doubted that the plastic discs that had worked their magic on the Border Redcaps would have any effect on the much more powerful Corpse Hound. But the small plastic boxes in his pockets should.
Grabbing one of the instruments, Jack flung it into the hound's snarling jaws. Jerking its mouth closed, the dog ripped the box to shreds. Bits and pieces of metal and plastic flew across the concrete floor. Nothing else happened. Jack swallowed, feeling his heart rise to his throat. He had just run out of tricks.
Snarling, the monstrous hound tore itself free from Cassandra's grasp. For an instant, it remained motionless, muscles tensing, readying to attack its new enemy. It was during that brief respite that Jack realized his weapon symbolized nothing unless it was fully functional.
He flipped the ON switch to the machine as the Gabble Ratchet launched itself into the air. Desperately, Jack thrust out his hand holding the device. The plastic barely grazed the Doberman's flesh, but that was all the contact needed. A burst of light greater than any of those previous filled the tunnel. The Gabble Ratchet vanished in a streak of white fire.
Wobbly, Jack staggered over to Cassandra. The Amazon was already pushing herself off the floor. She was covered with blood, but none of it was hers. Taking a few deep breaths, she rose shakily to her feet.
"You saved my life, Jack," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "A few seconds more and that hound would have ripped my face to ribbons."
"Think nothing of it," said Jack, feeling slightly embarrassed. "You saved my neck more times than I can count."
"No matter," replied the Amazon. "That is my nature. I can do no less. For me, choice does not exist. Your rescue demonstrates true courage. It is a debt I will not forget."
"Forget it," said Jack, blushing. Seeking to change the subject, he examined the CD boom box with which he had hammered the Gabble Ratchet. "Other than the plastic casing being smashed, this thing still appears intact."
Cassandra shook her head. "How are you planning to use a CD player against von Bern? Or is that a secret better left unsaid?"
Jack smiled. "The CD players won't hurt the German," he stated. "But the music I brought along might cause him a few problems."
"The music?" repeated the Amazon. "You're going to drive the Huntsman crazy with rock and roll?"
"Something like that," replied Jack. He glanced at his watch and yelped at the time. "We better move along. Those four Border Redcaps who escaped ruined any chance of our surprising their boss. If we don't hurry, the Huntsman will mass all his forces at the entrance to this tunnel. And that could prove to be a challenge even my musical surprise can't handle."
Regaining their possessions, they hurried down the concrete corridor. No longer worried about secrecy, they kept their flashlights on and made no attempt to muffle their footsteps or voices. May Day Eve was drawing closer by the minute.
"What was that thing you threw at the Gabble Ratchet?" Cassandra asked curiously as they jogged over the railroad ties. "And why didn't the first one you tossed at the beast harm it?"
"A pocket calculator," said Jack, pulling yet another one of the machines from his pocket. "The ultimate symbol of order over chaos."
"Huh?" said Cassandra. "You defeated the Corpse Hound with a miniature adding machine?"
"It's not the object," said Jack, "but what it represents. That's why the calculator didn't harm the Doberman originally. Without power, it's merely a collection of circuit boards and batteries encased in a plastic shell. But, when the adding machine is working, it symbolizes the triumph of logic over disorder, of intellect and reason over anarchy."
Cassandra looked at Jack with wide eyes. "All that from a pocket calculator? You realize I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Besides, those plastic discs you gave me to throw at the Border Redcaps worked without power."
"As minor menaces, the Redcaps needed lesser remedies," said Jack. "You destroyed them with three-and-a-half-inch computer floppy discs. Again, a modern icon representing the triumph of reason over irrationality."
"Computer discs, adding machines," said Cassandra. "I'm beginning to sense a pattern emerging."
"Of course," said Jack. "It came to me during my conversation with Fritz at his garage. I needed to take the long view of history to understand. A very long view.
"At the dawn of civilization, fire represented the triumph of good over evil, light over darkness. Fire symbolized the rule of order over chaos. It served man, warmed him, helped cook his food, protect him from the beasts that sought his life, held the night at bay.
"But, after an age, fire lost its symbolic power as men used it to destroy as well as protect. Fire became too common, too easily used for both good and evil. Replacing it as a symbol of order was cold iron. Forged into weapons and tools, iron helped civilization develop, society to advance. For more than a thousand years, it represented justice and fairness in a cruel, unjust world. As was the case with fire, it symbolized the rule of order over chaos. But then, iron, too, was corrupted as it became commonplace.
"Tyrants and dictators used steel to ruthlessly subdue their enemies, extend their holdings, trample the rights of the weak and helpless. Civilizations not only rose, but fell due to its use. Cold iron no longer symbolized the triumph of good over evil."
"To be replaced by calculators?' asked Cassandra.
Jack grinned. "In the very broadest sense. Actually, iron lost to logic. To reason. To rational thinking." Almost immediately, his features grew serious. "Men feared the dark and used fire to conquer that enemy. Later, they needed weapons to tame their hostile environment, and cold iron and steel served that purpose. Each battle was in essence a collision between order and chaos. But the menaces were external ones. Finally, mankind itself was faced with a more deadly, more insidious challenge. One that could not be defeated so easily. Itself.
"Ins
tead of battling tangible hazards, men now confront—other men. Civilization has grown too complex. Problems are no longer simple, and thus, neither are the solutions. People are murdered because of their religious beliefs, because of the color of their skin, because of the way they talk—the way they look—the way they think. It's madness. The dark is rising, Cassandra, and this time it can't be defeated by things like fire or iron. Civilization faces dangers unlike those of the past. Physical objects are no longer the answer. Instead, these threats can only be stopped by clear thinking. By logical, rational ideas.
"That's where I come in. Merlin selected me to fight for humanity against this ancient menace because I'm a mathematician, a logical thinker, a believer in an orderly universe. Von Bern and his legions are creatures of chaos and unreason. I refuse to accept the irrationality they represent. And, as a lifelong fantasy and science fiction fan, I realize what's necessary to fight back.
"Computer floppy discs and adding machines are only a small part of the solution. They represent logical, rational thinking applied to modern technology. Each of them brings order to anarchy. In essence, they are the new icons of good over evil. They are symbolic of man's conquest of irrationality and chaos. They are the new weapons of order in a disordered world."
"I'm not sure I follow your thinking very well, Jack," said Cassandra. "But you sound pretty convinced yourself. Which is good enough for me. Especially since the tunnel is widening a bit. There's light ahead. Unless I'm mistaken, we're about to see how well your theories deal with Dietrich von Bern and his Sword of Chaos. Not to mention a horde of Border Redcaps and a pack of Gabble Ratchets. It should prove illuminating."
"Light always triumphs over darkness," said Jack, readying the black tube he held under one arm. It was the one weapon he was saving for their direst emergency. "And this particular light will defeat the blackest night."
Chapter 39
THEY EMERGED FROM the passageway into a huge underground railway yard easily a hundred yards across and fifty yards wide. Constructed entirely of concrete and steel, nearly a hundred pillars held up the roof thirty feet above their heads. A score of old wood and steel tracks crisscrossed the floor, leading to twenty different tunnels that dotted the walls. But Jack spent little time examining his surroundings.
His attention was completely fixed on the thirteen huge wicker cages that hung from heavy ropes from the ceiling. Each basket held seven women, most of them screaming at the top of their lungs. The sound of their voices, echoing through the immense cavern, was deafening. The reason for their distress was frightfully clear. Below each cage, groups of Border Redcaps were stacking large piles of wood for bonfires. Jack and Cassandra had arrived barely in the nick of time.
"Company, Jack," warned the Amazon, dragging his thoughts away from the prisoners.
He had been searching the baskets, without success, for some sign of Megan or Merlin. Neither the girl nor her father was in any of the cages. Nor was he able to find, scanning his surroundings, Dietrich von Bern. Jack felt positive that when he located Megan, he would discover the Wild Huntsman as well.
A wall of Border Redcaps advanced slowly on their position. Nearly fifty of von Bern's henchmen crowded in a solid line that formed a semicircle around the spot where Jack and Cassandra waited. Many of them carried handguns; a few even held rifles. Mixed among the fiends were the five remaining Gabble Ratchets. Thirty feet away and closing, neither the gang members nor the Corpse Hounds appeared in any hurry to lead the final charge.
"They must have heard what happened to their friends," said Cassandra, filling her hands with floppy discs. "That's the only thing holding them at bay. None of them is willing to make the first move. As soon as one builds up the necessary courage, they'll roll over us like a tidal wave. Or blow us away with automatic weapon fire."
"Maybe a little music will change matters," said Jack, calmly. He pulled out a CD from his backpack, slipped it into the boom box, and pushed Play. Turning the volume control to the max, he placed the machine at his feet, facing the oncoming horde. "Listen."
All motion stopped. Every eye fastened on the boom box, whirring happily to itself. Jack's reputation as humanity's champion had obviously grown by leaps and bounds during the past ten minutes. The Gabble Ratchets snarled, the Border Redcaps raised their knives and chains. And the CD player bellowed rock and roll.
The music hit the waiting crowd with the force of a tornado. Dropping their weapons, the Border Redcaps shrieked in sudden, unexpected agony. Clutching their hands to their ears, they broke formation and scattered through the railway yard. Many of them ran for the tunnels leading into the darkness. Their screams remained long after they disappeared.
The Corpse Hounds fared little better. The Gabble Ratchets collapsed to the ground and rolled back and forth, baying at an unseen moon. Recognizing a perfect opportunity when he saw it, Jack quickly ran over to the monstrous beasts and dropped a functioning pocket calculator on each of them. They vanished in satisfying bursts of white flame.
"What is that song?" yelled Cassandra, catching up to Jack. "And why is it devastating von Bern's allies?"
"Electronic music," said Jack. "Generated by a computer, naturally. My encounter with the banshee gave me the idea of returning the favor. It's not bad stuff, though I prefer Emerson, Lake and Palmer when it comes to synthesizer."
He gestured at the boom box. "Carry it with you. Sooner or later, some of the Redcaps will plug up their ears. But until then, the music should provide us some protection. Let's cut down those wicker baskets. Until those women are safe, the Huntsman is still a menace."
As if replying to Jack's concerns, Dietrich von Bern's voice, magnified by a portable amplifier, boomed through the immense cavern. "Cover your ears, you fools. The music can't hurt you if you can't hear it. Remember, there are only two of them. Surround them. Use your guns. Stop them. Prepare the fires. And release the Great Beast!"
"Release the Great Beast?" repeated Jack. "I don't like the sound of that. Come on."
A half-dozen Border Redcaps, wads of cloth dangling from their ears, their baseball hats holding the material in place, waited for them beneath the nearest cage. Grabbing a handful of floppy discs from his pockets, Jack sent them sailing at the fiends. Years of goofing off in computer lab finally paid off, as he flipped disc after disc with uncanny accuracy.
Aware of their peril, three of the Redcaps managed to duck out of the way of the plastic rectangles. The others shifted position, but not enough. One touch of the hard plastic was enough to send them to limbo. By the time Cassandra arrived, the number of their enemies had been cut in half.
Faced with a trio of foes, Cassandra completely forgot the discs she was carrying. Instead, releasing the CD player, she lunged at the first Redcap with her staff, catching the killer hard in the chest. Bones cracked, and the fiend tumbled to the concrete floor. He showed no further interest in the fight.
Twirling her walking stick like a baton, the Amazon slammed the second Redcap sideways across the face. Like the first, he crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
The third gang member pulled an automatic from inside his shirt. He never had time to aim and fire. Cassandra's staff smacked the gun from his hand, then sent him joining his companions on the floor with a smash to the forehead.
Hurriedly, Jack deposited a floppy disc on the chest of each of the fallen Redcaps. With satisfying bursts of light, all three vanished.
"Sorry," said Cassandra, tearing at the pile of wood located beneath the cage dangling high over their heads. "I got carried away."
"No problem," said Jack. He pointed upward. Seven anxious faces peered down at him. Seven terrified women, hoping for rescue, screamed words of encouragement. "How do we get them down?"
"Von Bern must have a block and tackle somewhere," said Cassandra. "That cage is tied to a girder in the roof. Releasing them will take hours. And we don't have the time."
She gestured with her stick at an object at the center of the pile of
timbers. Jack cursed in dismay. Von Bern's henchmen had placed a can of gasoline and a timer between the logs. Set for six o'clock, the mechanism was already counting down the minutes. Jack checked his watch. They had less than an hour to disarm thirteen bombs scattered throughout the huge cavern.
"Smash it," he said to Cassandra, pointing at the timer. "We'll free the women after we deal with von Bern."
A roar so loud that it set the wicker basket above them swaying cut off the Amazon's reply. Guessing why her eyes had widened in shock wasn't difficult, though. Turning about, Jack Collins faced the Great Beast.
Chapter 40
IT WADDLED TOWARDS them from the other end of the railway yard, its intense bellowing shaking the walls. Seventy feet long, the Great Beast stood twelve feet high at the shoulder, balanced on four short, stumpy legs, and was ten feet wide. Fifteen feet of its length consisted of a gigantic mouth filled with teeth the size of bar stools. Its milky white eyes were the size of pizza tins. Assorted spikes decorated its back and sides. Dark brown, with splotchy spots of green, the monster bore an uncanny resemblance to a gigantic alligator.
It wasn't hard to guess its true identity. At least, not for Jack. After reading hundreds of fantasy novels from Adams to Zelazny, he was an expert on mythical creations. The monster could only be Leviathan, the monstrous sea creature mentioned in the Book of Job. Though the Bible described the creature as a serpent, according to earlier Babylonian and Canaanite myths, the creature was actually a giant sea dragon. Or, in more prosaic terms, an alligator the size of a steam locomotive.
Watching the Great Beast approach, Jack experienced a curious sort of déjà vu. His mind flashed back to dozens of 1950's science fiction B-movies, filled with giant ants, flies, wasps, and grasshoppers. But now the menace was a monstrous alligator demon, and instead of watching the film, he was living it. He only hoped that his plan was the equal of those dreamt up by Kenneth Tobey, Steve McQueen, or Peter Graves.
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