The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1)

by John Triptych

  “A-a goddess?” Ilya said. “What kind of goddess?”

  “A goddess of sound,” she said, smiling. “When you hear the cries of a bird in the morning sun, or the whispers of deceit in a conspirator’s chambers, or the sound of a tree branch falling in the forest, everything passes through my ears and I sometimes carry these messages to other gods, and perhaps even men … but only to those that I admire, of course.”

  Ilya swallowed. He had to think fast. He needed to show good manners, but he had nothing more to give. Then he came up with an idea. “I-I am pleased to meet you. I am honored to have the attention of a mighty goddess. Although I do not have anything with which to offer as a gift, if I may, could I give you a kiss on the cheek and perhaps you would consider it as a gesture of respect?”

  Ozwiena tilted her head back and laughed. “You are an astonishing boy! Not only are you handsome, but you are indeed very clever. You may kiss my cheek,” she said as she turned her head sideways in anticipation.

  Ilya leaned over and just as his lips were about to touch the unearthly woman’s cheek, she instantly turned, faced him and then gave a long kiss on his mouth instead. Ilya was surprised, but he kept his composure as they locked lips for nearly a minute before mutually withdrawing.

  Once more Ozwiena giggled with delight and she clapped her hands. “That was most excellent! It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed a mortal. You have made this night quite memorable, and now I am in your debt.”

  Ilya’s cheeks were beet-red from embarrassment, but so far nobody else had seemed to notice. It was the first time that he had ever kissed anyone, and he did it to a goddess, no less. “Could I ask you something?”

  “Most definitely,” Ozweina said as she locked her fingers together and stared at him intently. “Ask me as many questions as you like, I know all that goes on in this world and in the other lands, as well.”

  “You said I’m in the Spirit Lands. Does this mean I am dead?”

  “Not you, no,” she said as she pointed to the others. “Do you see that they glow with astral fire? They are spirits of the ancestors of your world. They have passed on eons ago and yet some of them go to this hall to pay their respects to the gods, and enjoy a bit of merriment before they go onto their journeys.”

  “Where do they all go after this place?”

  “Each spirit goes on a separate voyage. Every path one takes in life brings one to a different path in the afterlife.”

  “Okay then, if I’m not dead then how did I get here?”

  “You were kept prisoner by Baba Yaga for quite a long time as I recall,” Ozwiena said. “Her abode travels between the many worlds, and it was in this particular world you escaped to when you got out of her hut.”

  Ilya nodded. “Then how do I get back home?”

  She winked at him. “Is that what you really want? To go back to the orphanage?”

  Ilya looked down at the table. “I just wish my mother would come back for me. I just want to be there when she does.”

  Ozwiena shook her head. “She can’t. Not right now. She’s trapped.”

  Ilya’s mouth hung open in shock. “She’s what? Where is she trapped? I must go find her!”

  Ozwiena shrugged. “She is with many others, trapped in Chernobog’s lair.”

  Ilya’s fists slammed on the table. “Tell me where this Chernobog is. Tell me!”

  The goddess smirked. “You are a clever little boy, but you will be no match against the Black God, for he is a powerful being who cannot be hurt by mortals. He has returned and is currently ruling over your lands as we speak.”

  “You mean the snow storms over Russia and the world are being caused by this god?”

  She nodded. “Parts of it are caused by him, but there are other gods that have now returned and they have their own goals. The Fomorians now have those isles in the north and the giants are in command of the frozen wastes, while Ahriman, Erra, and Pazuzu rule the Levant as the Hidden God plots in the New Land, for he has an alliance with—”

  “Ozwiena!” Radegast bellowed from across the hall. “Stop bewitching the child and come here! Veles wants you!”

  “I must go,” Ozwiena said as she stood up. “Perhaps we shall speak again.” And like a passing bolt of lightning, she was gone.

  Ilya was speechless as his little fists were shaking on the table. His mother was a prisoner and his best friend was dead. How could he possibly defeat a powerful god and his minions? His mouth trembled as tears began to flow down his cheeks.

  A soothing voice towered above him. As he looked up he saw that it was the ghostly servant girl. “Why don’t you drink some of this to wash your sorrow away? This is a hall of happiness and mirth. One shouldn’t waste tears in such a joyous place,” she said as she placed a wooden bowl on the table in front of him, pouring a phosphorescent golden liquid into it.

  “Thank you,” the boy said as the girl smiled at him once more, then walked away to refill the other’s cups. Ilya looked into the bowl. The strange liquid bubbled and swirled as if it was cold lava. He stared into it deeply as he could see some sort of figures in its liquid reflections. The first thing he saw was a girl, slightly older than he was, as she was walking along a desert and a little dog followed her, while giant black birds hovered in the air. The next vision was of a soldier with a great thick beard who raced across the desert in a military vehicle with a wounded friend sitting beside him. The third vision was that of a much older man who wore glasses and a coat as he faced what looked like a giant glowing maggot that seemed to be hundreds of feet tall. Ilya shook his head as the visions rapidly began to fade away and he soon realized that he was staring back into the glowing liquid that was in his bowl once more.

  Ilya waved at the servant girl and she came over to him, smiling. “What is this liquid? I thought I saw visions while I stared at it,” he said.

  The servant seemed surprised. “You must have some sort of special gift. You are the first guest that has ever seen visions within that bowl. The drink is nothing more than fermented moonlight, sweetened by nectar from the great tree of life.”

  Ilya picked up the bowl and drank the liquid in one big gulp. The mystical juices felt like a sort of energy washing over his entire body, and imbued him with a newfound strength and power. “Tell me,” he said to the servant girl. “Are their paths in this land to return to my world?”

  She smiled. “In the Spirit World, one can travel across time and space. All you have to do is will yourself to a destination, and the path shall reveal itself before you.”

  Ilya nodded. So that was how Radegast was able to guide him to his banquet hall so quickly. All he had to do was to wish hard enough and he would be able to travel across the various planes of existence to find his mother and defeat that evil god. What he needed now was a plan. And some friends to help him.

  23. Alamo

  Rio Grande

  Major General Len Williams shook his head in both frustration and disbelief at the reports coming in that evening at the National Guard command center in Sullivan City. He had ordered all National Guard and Army Reserve units on standby, but half of them were no longer answering his communications. What made it even worse was that there had been second-hand reports that were received through other channels. They claimed that military and volunteer units had begun firing on the Mexican refugees that were streaming through the border in cities all along the Rio Grande, despite his express orders not to engage or resist their crossings into US territory. General Williams was a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan, and he could feel the bitter tang of disappointment as wholesale units were beginning to disobey orders. The military is close to collapse, he thought. General Williams frowned as he stood over his communications officers, who were monitoring the situation in the command post.

  The tent’s outer flap opened and in came Colonel Grant Merriman, the executive officer. The rain had intensified in the last few days, and his combat uniform was soaking wet. “General, I’ve got wor
d that there’s been intense fighting in Brownsville. A few units of the Texas State Guard began to open fire on the refugees from Mexico, and one of our National Guard units attempted to intervene. No word on casualties yet, but they are reported to be high on both sides.”

  “Goddamn it,” General Williams muttered under his breath. He had been designated as the commander of the Texas National Guard just over a year ago. There were some controversies because of his outspoken views on politics and of his friendship with certain controversial figures in the black community. Being African American himself, he had recently attempted to temper his outspokenness to the point where it hardly mattered anymore. But now there were many within NORTHCOM who had begun to suggest that he be replaced, especially as the military was now under intense pressure by outside forces, and due to the immense casualties they had taken in this crisis. “Are we still in contact with our units in Brownsville?”

  Colonel Merriman took off his wet cap and shook his bald head. “I’m afraid not, General. We’re even starting to have trouble communicating with our units in McAllen and they’re right next to us.”

  “Jesus,” General Williams said. His command post was here in Sullivan City, less than a mile from the Mexican border. If they were losing communications with their units in McAllen City, then that meant that their entire position along the border was now untenable. With less than twenty thousand soldiers manning a front that stretched from the Gulf of Mexico to the El Paso border, which covered a length of over a thousand miles, his command had no chance to possibly contain the millions of refugees from Mexico that were desperately seeking sanctuary in American territory, much less repel an attack from demonic forces. The enemy had already destroyed an entire US Army task force that had been deployed into Northern Mexico. Everyone now felt that this was a suicide mission, but they went through the motions anyway. They felt that the government would come up with a solution, and their eventual sacrifice should be used to buy time until a way was found to somehow turn the tide.

  Colonel Merriman walked over to the map board on the far side of the command tent and started to look at the colored pins on it. “My suggestion is that we redeploy all our forward units from the Del Rio southern flank all the way to Brownsville, and reform them in front of San Antonio.”

  General Williams stood beside him. “That would mean losing the entire southern tip of Texas. I don’t think NORTHCOM would ever approve of it. We’d lose most of the units we have left because we’re all native Texans, and we’d all rather die to the last man like in the Alamo than give up a single inch of ground, no matter who the enemy is.”

  One of the communications operators who was monitoring the radios raised his hand. “General, we got a call from one of our OPs in Hidalgo. They report explosions and heavy gunfire to the south coming from Reynosa, the Mexican City.”

  Both men walked over and stood behind the radioman who reported it.

  General Williams looked at the colonel. “Well?”

  “Reynosa has got the remaining units of what was left of the Mexican Army,” Colonel Merriman said tersely. “If they are engaging, then that means those Aztec demons will soon be hitting the border.”

  General Williams frowned as he made his choice. “Okay then. Listen up, everyone,” he said as the other communications operators in the command post looked up at him. “I want you to order all units to pull back to the San Antonio defense line. Code is bravo two-zero-zero. Have all units authenticate and acknowledge.”

  As the communications operators began to issue orders on their radios, the tent flap to the outside once again opened, and a large group of a dozen uniformed men cloaked in dark green military ponchos came inside.

  Colonel Merriman immediately ran over and confronted them as he placed his hand on the pistol that was holstered on his hip. “Hey, this is a restricted area, identify yourselves!”

  Several of the men pulled out M4 assault rifles from beneath their dripping wet ponchos and leveled them at the executive officer, who took a half step back in shock. General Williams calmly walked over and stood beside the colonel. The other comm operators who had noticed the intruders looked up in apparent surprise, as a couple of them stood up and took off their headsets.

  One of the intruders took off the hood of his poncho to reveal his face. Grey-haired but still youthful looking, Governor Jack Bishop of Texas stared back at the National Guard commanders with a grim look on his face. “General, you know who I am, right?”

  General Williams frowned as he stood his ground. “Of course I do, Governor. Now what in blue blazes are you doing here and why are your men pointing guns at my command staff?”

  “As of this moment, you and all your men are under the command of the State of Texas,” Bishop said as he turned to look at the radio operators. “Order all National Guard units and reserves to maintain their positions and do not retreat a single inch. We have volunteers as well as extra units from the Texas State Guard that are on their way and will be reinforcing them. The state of Texas will remain free as long as I’m governor.”

  General Williams grimaced. The Texas State Guard was a paramilitary defense force, and supplemented both the military and civilian authorities in times of emergencies. Although their personnel were trained and equipped like military units, the Texas State Guard was not part of the US Armed Forces command structure. They instead acted as a legally recognized and well-armed militia in times of peace and was controlled exclusively by the state governor and the Texas General Assembly.

  Colonel Merriman maintained his confrontational posture, although he didn’t make a move to draw his pistol. “The Texas National Guard has been federalized. You know this, Governor. You need to pull your men out of there right now.”

  Bishop drew a chrome-barreled Colt 1911 from underneath his poncho and aimed it at the colonel as he thumbed the safety off. “As of now, the State of Texas has officially declared independence. Therefore, all National Guard units, including all military reserves, are under my command. You are to order all your units to maintain positions and fire on anything that crosses the border, is that clear?”

  General Williams turned his head and shouted at his communications staff. “Disregard that order! We are under the command of NORTHCOM and as the designated CO here, I am ordering the governor and his men to get outta here, right now!”

  “Where the hell are our MPs? I’m calling base security,” Colonel Merriman said as he took out his walkie-talkie, but he instantly froze when the governor aimed his pistol right at his face.

  “If you push the talk button on that thing, I’m gonna blow your head off,” Bishop said nonchalantly. “Texas State Guard troops have surrounded your command post and they have orders to fire if you attempt to resist, so calling the MPs to save you won’t do a damned thing except get y’all killed.”

  General Williams put a restraining hand on the colonel’s elbow but kept his eyes on Bishop. “You are making a big mistake, Governor. This is treason. You’ll all be arrested for this.”

  Bishop shifted his aim to the general. “I am doing this for Texas. I will not lose this state to the Mexicans, or those demons that they unleashed. Texas will be defended and will resist. Your goddamned commander-in-chief is nothing but a useless idiot, so from now on the people of Texas will take matters into their own hands when it comes to defending this great state. You are either with us or against us, so make your choice right now.”

  For what seemed like an eternity, nobody else said anything, or moved a muscle as the radios continued their chatter and the heavy rain outside continued to pour down.

  Suddenly, one of the radio operators who was still wearing a headset instantly looked at her display. “Say again OP thirty-one, say again,” she said.

  General Williams turned his head in her direction. “What is it?”

  “Observation Post thirty-one is in Cuevitas, General,” the radio operator said. “That’s less than half a mile south of us … they reported enemy contact
and then fell silent.”

  “Keep trying to reach them,” General Williams said to her. “As to the rest of you, order the pull back.”

  “Belay that order!” Bishop screamed as he aimed the pistol at the general. “Tell all units to stand and hold, right now!”

  “I will not do so,” General Williams said calmly.

  “Have it your way then,” Bishop said as he began to pull on the trigger.

  “Out of the way, General!” Colonel Merriman said as he jumped in front of General Williams while drawing his own pistol.

  Bishop fired as three of the comm operators stood up and drew their holstered pistols. The .45 caliber bullet from the governor’s gun hit Colonel Merriman in the center of his chest and he fell on top of General Williams. The governor’s Texas Guardsmen turned and opened fire on the radio operators who were trying to bring their own guns to bear on them.

  As his ears were ringing from the deafening gunfire all around him, General Williams saw that the colonel’s eyes were wide open and glazed over … he was dead. Pushing back the corpse of his executive officer, the general tried to reach up to his desk and grab the headset to his radio that was tuned to NORTHCOM command in Virginia. Just as he crouched up and pushed the talk button, a bullet struck the back of his lower spine and he fell down onto the floor. Drawing on his remaining willpower, he tried reaching up for the headset one more time. A another bullet went through his upper back, bounced around a bit in his ribcage and exited from his left shoulder and he finally slumped over the dead body of his second in command.

  Governor Jack Bishop got up from the floor as the smoke rapidly began to clear. He could smell blood and cordite in the air as his ringing ears heard a few distant groans and death rattles. Looking around, he noticed two radio operators were still standing with their hands in the air as his men aimed their assault rifles at them. The rest were on the ground, either dead or soon to be dead as they were bleeding out.