Giantfall

by F. A. Bentley

  They had us. Even with my runestone, there was no way the magic could survive twenty guns putting bullets into it. And even if the Vettir were bad shots, all it took was one lucky hit into our engine or tires.

  Hell, they didn’t even need to kill us, just slow us down.

  From beneath a pile of dead and dying Vettir, the big one with the rocket launcher rose up again, nursing a bullet hole in his stomach and looking a little upset.

  As the rocket launcher struggled to draw a bead on our car, a wild idea entered my brain.

  “Lis. Drive steady. Let them hit us.”

  The moment she hesitated and her swerve slowed, the Vettir sensed weakness and shot the rocket at us dead center.

  A split second before it hit, I raised Lodri’s rune shield.

  Chapter 19

  If you’ve ever watched a sports game with die hard fans, then you’ve probably seen the look of horror on their faces when their team loses during a penalty shootout with five seconds left on the timer.

  That was the same look I saw on the Vetti troopers as the force shield casually bounced the missile away from Lis’ sports car and into the grille of their own truck.

  The thing exploded like we were on the set of a Hollywood movie, the mangled truck limply somersaulted into the air before rolling to a stop right across the middle of all four highway lanes.

  We apologize for any traffic delays that may have been caused during the completion of this mission.

  “Six out of ten,” Lis said stifling a yawn. “Not enough finesse.”

  “Go to hell,” I retorted.

  I cursed as Rurik’s remaining truck of troops slowed down to intercept us.

  “No brakes on the fun train. Wish me luck,” I muttered.

  Before Lis could snark back, the truck slammed on the brakes ahead of us, forcing the she-devil into evasive action.

  The feint was almost enough to snap my neck. I swore as the car steadied and drew up along side the truck.

  “Go get em, tiger,” Lis said, and swerved to mash the sports car against the side of the truck.

  A well timed jump saw me reach the top of the eighteen wheeler. Just in time to lock wand with the bayonet of the nearest Vettir gunman.

  Balance and careful footing were going to be absolutely crucial here. While the Vetti had a battle of Thermopylae worth of troops to throw at me, it didn’t mean a damn thing if they couldn’t dodge back without sending the suckers behind flying onto the pavement at 150 kilometers an hour.

  They figured that out too after a half dozen of their number were cut down. It wasn’t getting me closer to getting them off my back though. I needed to think of something before--

  The ranks parted as a Vettir with a missing eye and a physique only slightly less impressive than that of his rocket launcher buddy came to the fore. He was garbed in most of a bear pelt and wielded not one but two axes.

  Goblin berserkers too now? At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Rurik was preparing to throw a kitchen sink at me next.

  My blade of pure arcana had already materialized as I side stepped the berserker’s charge. I thrust the blade’s tip forward to push him on the defensive but he didn’t even flinch. The chieftain didn’t care about personal harm, and with every ignored cut, slice, and I sunk into him it became obvious I was fighting a different sort of warrior.

  I ducked under a duel sweep of his axes and leaped to the side as the Vettir roared with bestial rage, slamming his weapons down hard in an overhead cut. I nearly fell as I realized I’d been pushed back almost all the way to the front of the truck.

  Trapped, I watched the berserker rip his axes out of the roof of the truck’s cabin, and charge once more. All I could do was parry, holding my wand-sword with both hands as the Goblin slowly overpowered me.

  I was crammed atop the driver’s cabin. There was nowhere to flee without kissing pavement. He had me right where he wanted me, and I quickly realized I was exactly where I wanted to be too.

  Withdrawing a hand from my wand, I focused my will onto the flat of my hand and cut off the razor tip of my wand. As I pushed back against the berserker with all my might, I balled all my magical talent into my palm and fed the force into the back of the severed blade tip.

  Down through the driver’s cabin the shard of hardened magic flew, and embedded itself into the top of the Goblin driver’s skull. Panic crept onto the berserker’s face as I whistled for Lis.

  The truck began to list to the side, and I leaped into the back seat of the sports car just as the truck struck the median divider.

  The collective wail of the Vetti on board was quickly lost to the sound of crashing truck and the roar of the muscle car’s engine.

  “We have him.”

  “They slowed us down,” Lis chided as she pulled us off the turnpike and down a rural road leading to a private airfield.

  My face fell as I saw a blue and white jet on the run way priming it’s engines. Just as we sidled up next to it, a black and red clad Goblin slammed the jet’s door shut and the plane began to accelerate.

  “Drive!”

  We were barely keeping up. Any second now the plane would take off and it’d be too late. I had to think fast. I couldn’t shoot the plane without uselessly plinking at metal sheets or thick windows. The little hammer wouldn’t work worth a damn either unless I was holding it when it struck either. That just left...

  “Up next to it, as close to the wing as you can.”

  Engines groaned and tires squealed until we overtook the plane. I stood up in the back seat, clutched Lodri’s rune stone like a baseball, and at the last second, threw it with all my might into the jet turbine.

  Meteoric Iron is to steel what steel is to bronze, as I heard one Dwarf put it during a party I’d attended in Stockholm. Judging by the industrial strength cacophony that erupted from the rune stone passing through the delicate turbine, he was right.

  The turbine erupted in an angry blaze of fire, and the jet, twenty feet off off the ground, came crashing down.

  We screeched to a halt a stone’s throw away from the out of commission jet. We did it. We had him dead to rights.

  “Too bad about your pet rock. I’m sure you’ll see it in Valhalla if you screw up though,” the she-devil said.

  “Lisis--”

  “Yes yes, go save the princess.”

  “Actually, I wanted to say thank you. And sorry about earlier.”

  Momentary surprise melted into a diabolical grin. “I’ll let you make it up to me later.”

  Stepping out of the car I stalked towards the jet’s metal door and drew Lodri’s hammer. No more jokes. No more chasing. Just business.

  The jet door blasted off its hinges and crushed the wall on the other side of the jet as the dark fuming plane sprung to life.

  I drew my pistol from its holster and gunned down the nearest Vettir, then sank my wand-sword into the chest of another, scrambling for his rifle.

  Disoriented but dogged in their defense, I slowly waded my way through the cabin until I reached luggage all the way at the back. Just one Goblin left. He stood with a pistol in hand and was garbed in a comparatively modern getup that were reminiscent of outdated army duds.

  With a distasteful glower, the Vettir chief fired, fast enough that I didn’t have time to react fast enough. Fatigue is a dangerous thing to lose track of.

  Most of the bullets collided with the padded chair I managed to duck behind, one hit my Kevlar with the force of a subway car, and the last hit my right bicep. Good. Now the bullet in my shoulder wouldn’t be lonely.

  When he ran out of bullets, he ran out of luck. I put one between his eyes and stepped over his corpse. Flinging open the door leading to the crew rest compartment, I raised my gun in a shaky hand and entered.

  I sucked in a breath. Brigitte. All eight feet of her lay limp on the floor bound, gagged, and bruised. She looked pale and sickly. Just as I picked her up and removed her gag, her eyes shot open.

  Slowly, recogni
tion filled her as she saw me. She smiled as tears welled into her eyes and a sob racked her body.

  “Brigitte. Where’s Rurik?”

  “Charles, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I have you right here, no one’s going to--”

  “No,” she cried, “That’s not...”

  As she spoke, I heard a shrill ring that chilled me to the bone. It was the sound of a cell phone ringing. Not mine, but the one the Goblin officer had on him.

  I hesitated before I set Brigitte down and picked it up.

  I hit accept and held it up to my ear.

  “Rurik,” I said.

  “Mr. Locke,” Rurik replied. “Isn’t it just wonderful when a plan comes together?”

  Chapter 20

  We’d gotten nice and comfortable in Brigitte’s safe house by the time the news started filtering in through the channels.

  The Mundane broadcasts were predictable and subdued on the small television set. An ‘armed robbery gone wrong’ on a rich private antique collector’s property left the large man and his well guarded mansion a blazing wreck.

  The defacement of a little known ruin half a day’s drive north of Oslo also caught my eye. Little more than the base foundation of an ancient Norse structure. It was dug up, smashed with hammers, and finally paved over. The preservation society was having a fit at the wave of ‘vandalism’.

  The supernatural scene practically exploded with news that the Norse sphere had been sent spiraling into chaos. The power of the Giants had been usurped, and Jotunheim, had been stomped flat by an army of well armed and organized Vetti.

  Brigitte stared off into space as she worked to wrap my shoulder up, a haunted look creeping into her eyes.

  My ears still rung with that old bastard’s words.

  “Isn’t it just wonderful when a plan comes together?” Rurik’s voice echoed. “I had a feeling about you. You’re a good old fashioned American cowboy. All I had to do to get you off my back was point you towards the girl and give you a little nudge. I didn’t need three Locuses downed. I barely needed two. But what I did need was an interference free night. You and that girl playing at espionage were all I could have ever asked for.”

  “Brigitte,” I whispered, catching her ice blue eyes.

  The Jotun woman, her glamour cast off, held my gaze as she swallowed unsteadily.

  “We’ll set this right,” I told her.

  “I’ve done enough, don’t you think?” she asked, a sad smile playing on her lips.

  “Failure isn’t the end. Giving up is the end,” I replied steadily. “I meant what I said. We’ll get help. And then we’ll get Rurik.”

  Brigitte didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned over onto the bed and pressed her lips to the bandages over top my shoulder. Her eyes never strayed from my own as she pressed another and another kiss, trailing up my chest and nearing my face.

  As she leaned down to catch my lips, the door to the unassuming basement apartment swung wide open.

  “I bought apples,” Lis declared.

  She dropped the grocery bag onto the coffee table and took a seat across from us. Brigitte was blushing bright red. I had a hand raised to my face.

  Lis took off her winter coat to reveal the nurse outfit she was wearing underneath. It was sterile white and sporting a red cross over the breast pocket. And why yes. The skirt was too short. Thanks for asking.

  “Who did you say this woman was again, Charles?” Brigitte asked, as though suddenly remembering that we weren’t alone together.

  I turned my head and coughed.

  It’s subtle, but Lis has powers beyond the ability to destroy my good mood on a whim. Mundane mortals simply don’t realize she is there unless she expressly wishes to be recognized. She hardly makes a ripple when it came to other people’s awareness. The fact that Brigitte noticed her a second time implied that the Jotun woman was either very magically sensitive, an expert with illusory magics, or most likely both at the same time.

  All I knew was that Lisistrathiel disliked being noticed by anyone other than me.

  “I’m just--” Lis began before I cut her off unceremoniously.

  “My chauffeur.”

  Jagged eyebrows furrowed. Fanged smile tightened. I may have hit a chord with her.

  “You have dedicated employees then,” Brigitte remarked before once again completely forgetting about Lis.

  Silence hung awkwardly as a shade of red returned to the Giantess’ face. There was no time for this. No matter how much I’d like to indulge.

  “We need to keep our heads together, not descend into wound licking and feeling bad for ourselves. We’re down, but we’re not out, dammit.”

  Brigitte seemed startled by my words, before nodding slowly.

  “What can you do for me, Brigitte?” I asked.

  “I can put out feelers and see about getting word from NORN. The networks have been in complete chaos, but if I can get word from one of the heads I can get up to date information on the situation in Jotunheim.”

  “Do it. Between that and the info I can get from NT, we should be going into this with both eyes open.”

  “Going into what?” Brigitte asked.

  I smiled weakly, casting a sidelong glance towards Lis as I spoke. “Rurik may have strong armed his way into Jotunheim with his army of Goblins, but there is no way the attack was as smooth as that. The Roman Empire wasn’t built in a day. And it can hardly be conquered in one either.”

  “So you mean to say that...”

  “Rurik probably charged his army right down the middle and went for a lightning strike through the main gates to take the seat of power.”

  Brigitte nodded in agreement. “I see. Leaving the actual bulk of Jotun folk, farmers, and warriors stationed to defend reeling and disorganized, but otherwise fine.”

  “He got his Goblins their Vettiheim, but the ploy was risky. It’s a blade that can cut both ways if he doesn’t put down the rest of the Jotun as quick as he can.”

  “So, you really think we have a chance?” Brigitte asked.

  “Damn right we do,” I replied.

  The Giantess let out a sigh of relief as resolution hardened her features once more. “I’m going to contact NORN. I’ll be back shortly. Be safe?”

  “I can’t imagine getting into too much trouble while lying in bed.”

  With a shy smile, the Giantess focused magic inwardly, and in the blink of an eye, donned the glamour of a young Human woman in business wear. She carefully locked the door behind her as she left the apartment.

  With Brigitte gone, I turned to Lis. “What do you think?”

  Lis stood up and walked over to the grocery bag of apples. Undoing the topmost button of her nurse outfit, she cast an aloof glance over her shoulder. “I think you’re about to die of exhaustion.”

  The moment she spoke those words, I felt the crushing weight of mortality press down on me. Every muscle refused to listen, and before I could open my mouth to garble a reply, my eyelids closed.

  “Well, that and the blood loss,” I heard Lis add, before the abyss took me.

  Chapter 21

  My eyes opened slowly, fearfully. There was no dagger clutched in my hands, but all the same I knew I was as much a part of this as the others.

  Hands trembled and eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness. The dark contours in the room finally came together to paint a nightmarish scene.

  The shapes formed a dark basement. Uncovered cement splayed out to four rude corners. Chalk had been used to draw strange shapes into the floor and in the middle I saw a motionless heap. Flesh still warm to the touch. Mouth still open in a pained scream. Eyes still wide in horror.

  I heard metal clatter onto the floor, and then, her voice. It was the happiest I’d ever heard her:

  “Charles. Oh no. Oh no, Charles, we killed him.”

  My girlfriend’s voice had always had a certain power to it. Victoria Windham. It rang all the bells of a woman blessed with success and
superior fortune. Real charisma. It was easy for her to gather her own cult of personality around her too.

  So then why did she decide one day to make me her boyfriend? Why did she bring me into this world of rituals, chanting, and leering faces just beyond the shadows? Why did she always need me watching? Why did she always draw the shapes and speak the words?

  And why did I let her do it?

  Cowardice. Inaction. Fear. The basement light shined down upon my sin. Evil wins when good men do nothing.

  The cooling corpse of the man in the center of the pentagram made my stomach somersault. At sixteen years old, I became an accessory to murder.

  Victoria couldn’t have been happier with me. Her ‘fated boyfriend’.

  The light’s went out, and as they did my breathing sped up faster and faster. I felt sick, sicker than before, but I felt weaker than I felt sick. I could hardly move my hands. But even if I could, the ropes would have kept me right where I was.

  When the lights came back on, they didn’t glare or shine down upon fresh monstrosities. They flickered, terrified to bring to light the sights that writhed around me.

  I was in a warehouse. An abandoned building blighted with rust. The thing creaked with every breeze and gale, groaning with the weight of sin even now. All around me men and women chanted. Sallow cheeked and gaunt faced. They wore robes of midnight black, and chanted at precise intervals.

  “If you don’t get the timing just right, the glyphs might blow sky high or the spirit might think everyone here is being offered up. Now that’s what I’d call an all you can eat buffet!” I once heard Victoria joke.

  She’d had strange friends in strange robes as long as I could remember. Dead beats who fancied themselves occultists. Lost kids like me that fell in with a bad crowd. Grown men and women with nothing to lose, or desperate to regain something lost.

  They would come and go. Some would disappear after ‘portentous’ days, as she called them. Others were regulars. Fanatics.