She gently pried Cassie's hand from around her and helped the other woman up. "We have to move fast. We'll get the others and—"
A huge shape rushed at Elizabeth, and powerful arms wrapped around her and lifted her off her feet, crushing her against a torso that felt like slabs of beef. "Ha!" barked a booming voice with a Creole accent she knew well. "My magic lioness returns for us. I knew no stupid dragon could stop you."
"Swamp Thing," she wheezed, pushing at his muscular chest. "If you don't put me down, I am going to cast a transmogrification spell on your dick."
Sergeant Jules "Swamp Thing" Tio's eyes shone with happiness, a joy that burned in her heart as well. She had been certain her mentor was dead. He released Elizabeth, shaking his big bald head, his bright smile practically glowing in the darkness against his black skin. Swamp Thing towered over Elizabeth, but then, the huge soldier towered over most men as well. He placed his huge hands atop her shoulders. "Could be I'm just happy to see you, Liz."
She sighed and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Thank God you're all right, Swamp Thing. Just don't crush me, okay?"
"You got it."
She stepped back, seeing the other prisoners were moving about, looking for weapons among the dead boggarts. "I thought you were too tough to be captured."
"Some sneaky witchcraft bullshit," he said. "I saw a wasp on my hand, and when I went to swat at it, something bit me in the back of the neck. Took two steps and fell on my face. When I woke up, these ugly fish-faced things had me tied up. I'd have broken free, of course, but I didn't want the others to get hurt."
"Right. You're a saint, Swamp Thing."
"You know it. Just the same, I'm some glad to see you, Liz. You better believe I am."
"Here." She handed him the knife. "Help the others. We're not staying here long."
He stared suspiciously at the multi-tool with its three-inch blade. "You got any real weapons?"
She handed him her carbine as well as the magazines stuffed in her pockets. She was far more dangerous with magic anyhow. "Check the enemy dead," she said. "We think they took your weapons."
"Elizabeth!" She heard a familiar female voice and turned just as Dr. Helena Simmons, the middle-aged and somewhat frumpy-looking woman who ran Operation Rubicon's science department, embraced her.
"I… it's good to see you, Doctor," she said, a bit taken aback. The emotional outburst was completely out of character for the normally reserved scientist.
"Elizabeth, oh my, I'm so happy to see you. Thank you. I thought they were going to … to eat us."
"You're safe now," said Elizabeth, prying the doctor's arms from her. "Stay with the others, okay? I can't talk right now."
One of the other prisoners, Captain Sharon Chan, a task force helicopter pilot, moved forward to lead the now-crying scientist away. "It's all right, Helena. Let Elizabeth do what she needs to do." Sharon met Elizabeth's eye and nodded at her in greeting.
Elizabeth recognized three more of the US Delta Force operators. There was Aaron Walker, a tall, handsome Southerner; Rey Lewis, a New York City resident with a bald bullet-shaped head, who always looked angry about something; and Robbie Masters, a serious and utterly professional African-American soldier who was also a devout Baptist. The final two prisoners were Canadians, her one-time bodyguards, Rick "Tops" Topper and Cory Ward. Both men locked eyes on her and nodded in appreciation.
Elizabeth joined Tlathia and Kargin, standing amidst at least a dozen boggart corpses as well as another dead manticore. The dark elf had her hand on Kargin's shoulder as she spoke to him. Kargin seemed crestfallen, his GPNVGs now resting atop his tattooed forehead.
"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked.
Kargin's dark eyes reflected a profound sadness. "I almost had him, Lizbeth-Chambers." He shook his head. "Still can't believe I missed the skinny bastard. Shoulda split his skull, but I misjudged somehow."
"Next time, old friend," Tlathia said softly.
"These," said Elizabeth, touching the GPNVGs sitting atop his forehead. "They're as good as you can get, but they still produce a slight tunnel-vision effect. It can throw you off if you haven't trained enough with them."
"Damn," muttered the dwarf. "Guess I'll have to kill him during the day."
"We did get another of his manticores," said Tlathia. "Unfortunately, he escaped with the ancient-one talisman."
The dwarf sighed. "I can go after him. Finish him and his manticore."
Tlathia gripped his arm and pointed into the sky to the northeast. "No time. My sister knows we're here. Look!"
Elizabeth lowered her GPNVGs and immediately saw a dozen winged shapes flying in formation. "What are those flying lizard things?"
"Wyverns," said Tlathia. "Dragonlings—we use them as mounts. There are too many mage-wardens coming for me to fight, I'm afraid."
"How did they find us so quickly?" Elizabeth asked.
"All the magic I've cast this night is like a beacon for my sister and her forces. They'll be here in moments. We must go." She spun about, rushing back to join the others.
Elizabeth and Kargin followed her, and Paco rushed over, his carbine resting against his shoulder, Clyde at his side. "What's going on?" he asked.
"The dark elves are coming," said Elizabeth. "How are we?"
Paco bobbed his head. "Good. Everyone's cut loose, and we even recovered the stolen gear and weapons."
Clyde began barking happily and jumping up and down as Cassie rushed over and embraced Paco. Clyde jumped up and rested his front paws on her back, panting happily.
"My God, Paco? Clyde? How is this possible?"
"Hey, Hudson's Hope-girl," said Paco, reluctantly pulling away. "I'll explain later." He turned to Elizabeth. "What's the plan, Liz? We fighting?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, we're Oscar Mike—on the move." She watched as Tlathia, now holding the Shatkur Orb before her, channeled a trickle of mana into it.
"How did you get that?" Dr. Simmons asked in astonishment.
A moment later, a fiery ring appeared, revealing the paintball range with its old bus in the gravel parking lot. The others, including Cassie, gasped in wonder, crowding away from the fiery ring. "Can't we move farther away than that?" Elizabeth asked. "That's just south of the Taylor Bridge."
"I can only create gateways to places I know," answered Tlathia. "It's safer than staying here."
Cassie stared wide-eyed at Tlathia and Kargin then cast an incredulous gaze at Elizabeth, her mouth open. "Later," Elizabeth promised, glancing back over her shoulder. The wyverns with their dark elf riders were much closer now, maybe less than a minute away. "We need to go."
Cassie's mouth opened. "I…"
Elizabeth grabbed her arm and pulled her along with her. "Do you trust me?"
Cassie nodded. "I do."
"We're going through that gateway, soldiers!" Elizabeth yelled. "You hesitate, and you're on your own." Still holding Cassie's arm, she pulled her through the gateway. Then, fear in their eyes, the others, including those they had just rescued, piled through after her. Swamp Thing had his eyes closed.
This time, Clyde jumped through on his own, turning to grin at Paco. "Good boy," said Paco, kneeling down to ruffle the dog's head.
Tlathia came last. The moment she stepped over the fiery ring, it winked out of existence.
Elizabeth tugged on Paco's sleeve. "Can you help? I'm not sure what needs to be done now, but we shouldn't stay here."
"I agree." Paco turned on his flashlight, his GPNVGs now sitting on his forehead, and pointed it under his chin. "Listen up, soldiers. Name's Yancy, Yancy Nelson, but everyone calls me Paco. I worked for the army last year. Some of you might remember I helped you go after the hellhounds and the basilisk."
"I remember you," said Masters. He looked about at the others. "He's a good man. You can trust him. Thank you for saving our lives."
The others also murmured their thanks. "Owe you, man," said Swamp Thing. "You and"—he glanced at Tlath
ia and Kargin—"your special friends. Might need to explain who they are, though, and what the fuck is going on."
"Later, promise." Paco turned in place, sending his flashlight beam over the paint-splattered obstacle course. "Here's the situation. We're south of Taylor, only a couple of clicks east of the Taylor Bridge, which was on fire and impassable a couple of hours ago, but…" He glanced up at the gathering clouds. "I think we're in for rain."
"You in charge?" Swamp Thing asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Always matters. But seeing as how you saved our lives and you're the one doing all the talking—and Masters likes you—I say you're in charge. For now."
Paco met the large man's eyes and nodded solemnly. "For now. As I was saying, we need to get gone. If I'm right about the rain…"
"Got you, man," said Swamp Thing. "Time to get out of Dodge."
Paco pointed his flashlight beam on the paint-splattered old bus sitting in the gravel parking lot. "Any of you know how to hot-wire a bus?"
"I can," said Sharon Chan. "If it's got an electrical system, I can spark it up—as long as that piece of shit still runs."
Swamp Thing dropped a heavy arm across the small pilot's shoulders. "I'll help. I know my way around pieces of shit."
Paco turned to the others. "Rest of you, gear up with what we stole from your cache and what the trolls were carrying." He smiled at them. "Good thing you did such a shit job hiding your cache, or we'd have had nothing but bad intentions to use to save you."
The men chuckled and set to their task, handing out weapons and ammo. Dr. Simmons sat on a log, her hands over her face, exhausted perhaps. I know exactly how she feels, thought Elizabeth. She handed the doctor a water bottle. When she took it, she clutched at Elizabeth's hand, holding it between her own, as if afraid to let go. "I … I … thank…"
"It's okay," said Elizabeth, gently prying her hand free. "You're safe now."
Tops came over with another carbine and magazines for Elizabeth. She took the weapon and stuffed the magazines into her pants pockets.
Cassie joined her, holding a carbine one-handed, the weapon's butt resting against her hip. "What now?"
Elizabeth considered her then grabbed her elbow and steered her over to join Tlathia and Kargin, who stood separate from the others. "Now we say hello to our new friends." She paused, looking about until she saw Leela and Corinna. She called the other women over as well. "Let's get all the introductions out of the way at once so we can figure out what we need to do next."
"I feel like I've missed a lot since last night," Cassie said.
"You and me both, but you can start by telling me how you escaped the dragon."
32
Horlastia ducked beneath the hospital tent's flaps to see Ulfir lying on his back on a cot, his handsome features twisted in pain. A white linen bandage was taped to his head and cheek where the dwarf's ax had burned him. Pus soaked through the cloth, turning it yellow. Not so handsome now, she mused with more than a little bit of satisfaction. One of her mage-healers was casting Spider-Mother's-Blessing on his ankle, knotting the flesh together. He wore no breeches; the healer had already cut them away to examine his wounds. Now, his muscular legs were laid bare, and her gaze drifted approvingly over his form. She noted that the hole that had been punched through his thigh by the manling fire weapon was already completely healed. Witch-Bane lay beside him, near at hand but untouched by necessity while the mage healed him. Her eyes lingered on the black spear, and she wondered when she'd ever see Ulfir so vulnerable again. With no more than a thought, she could burn him to a blackened husk.
Unfortunately, she needed him.
For now.
They had found him in the woods, not far from the slaughtered cohort. His surviving manticore had appeared as soon as Horlastia's wyvern had landed, then led them to the injured mage-hunter, his ankle so badly mangled that it looked as if his foot was only hanging on, his face and forehead charred, blood pouring from his punctured thigh. She smiled at the memory.
"Well?" she asked the mage-healer.
"Almost done, my General," the woman answered. "The leg will be as strong as ever. The face, however … I can do nothing. The wound resists my magic."
Ulfir's eyes darted angrily to the healer, but Horlastia shrugged in indifference. "As long as he can walk and hunt."
"I will kill that foul dwarf," Ulfir snarled.
"I'm sure," said Horlastia, dragging a stool over beside the cot and sitting down. Her lips curled into a sneer. "But for now, he lives. And so, apparently, does my sister Tlathia. She bested you, as she did me—even though you had your precious Witch-Bane. How vexing that must be for you… Mage-Hunter."
Ulfir ground his teeth. "Not for long." He gasped in pain, his face white as he lifted himself up on his elbows. "Careful, damn you." The healer shrugged and carried on with her spell.
"How did she ambush you?" Horlastia asked him.
"Your sister has allied herself with the manlings—warriors and mages. The mages weren't … they weren’t as pathetic as we were led to believe. The ambush was well planned and effective, and the manling fire weapons are far more dangerous than anything the dwarves fought with in the Secession Wars."
Horlastia nodded thoughtfully, examining her fingernails. "Their mages fought well enough earlier this day—before setting the bridge on fire," she admitted. "Though I doubt one could stand against one of my mage-wardens."
"Your sister could. Her magic was … impressive."
Horlastia glanced away, remembering her sister's betrayal. "Tlathia is gifted—I'll give her that—and surprisingly treacherous." A surge of annoyance coursed through Horlastia. She disliked complimenting anyone, especially a sister. What happens if I face her again? Worry gnawed at her, but she pushed that concern aside. It was beneath her. "Why ambush you, Ulfir, a preemptive strike? And how did she find you?"
"I don't know, but I don't think killing me was her goal—at least not her main goal. I think she was after my prisoners. And now she has them."
"Why?"
He shook his head. "One was a mage, but the others were mundane. Warriors."
She peered intently at him, suspecting he was hiding something from her. That concerned her. The knife you don't see coming is the one that kills you. "Warriors?" she asked, watching his face carefully. "Are you certain? We've seen no evidence the manlings move against us. In fact, my mother insists they won't. Her spies have convinced her that the manlings will seek to … avoid conflict with us—until it's too late."
"They were warriors," he insisted. "Far better armed and trained than the other manlings who protected the city. I think… maybe, that these warriors and the mage with them are the same ones that murdered your sister Maelhrandia on Faerum."
Horlastia pursed her lips in surprise, a tendril of worry snaking through her. "If so, that would mean Bale-Fire has failed to destroy them."
"Perhaps some escaped his rage."
"It's not like the great wyrm to fail. I must report this to Mother."
The mage-healer ceased her weave. "I am done, my General."
Ulfir's fingers wrapped around Witch-Bane's black haft, and he sat up, gingerly placing weight upon his healed ankle before standing and walking on it. He picked up a pair of breeches that the healer had left for him and pulled them on before moving about on his healed leg and ankle. "This will do," he whispered then turned to face Horlastia. "You could report this … setback to your mother. Or you could wait for better news."
Horlastia's lips curled into a cold sneer. "Why, Mage-Hunter, what reason could I have for not reporting it? I am a dutiful daughter."
"Because your sister has finally made a fatal mistake."
Horlastia sighed and shook her head contemptuously. "I've heard such proud words before—proud and useless. Tlathia has bested you. Boasts will not alter that."
Ulfir's hate-filled glare could have melted steel. "How many true mage-wardens do you have at your disposal this night? Not amateur
s, but your fellow Black Circle initiates?"
Horlastia froze, shocked for the first time this night. The mage-healer, her eyes tightening in fear, quickly scuttled out the tent door, mumbling something about "other patients." She needn't have bothered leaving—Horlastia would see her dead within the hour. The existence of the Black Circle, a coven of the most dangerous and skilled of all the mage-wardens in the empire, was a secret she'd kill to keep. She watched Ulfir's smug face, hating him more than ever. "What is a Black—"
"Please," he scoffed. "I hunt mages. Do you think you can keep your little sisterhood a secret from me? Besides, you mage-wardens aren't unique. All the magical disciplines—mage-scout, mage-warden, mage-scholar, even mage-healers—have their pathetic little cliques, plotting in secret." He shook his head. "But your deceptions only last until you're under my spear. Then every single one of you witches is desperate to tell me everything. I've known all about your Black Circle for cycles. So stop your lying tongue and tell me how many true mage-wardens you can bring to battle this night."
She simmered with fury but stayed her hand. "Three," she finally spat at him. "With Nexorastia murdered upon the bridge, there remain only three, my best battle captains."
He pursed his lips, as if considering the matter, then nodded. "Good. Three will do, I think. If nothing else, you can keep the heretic occupied while I move on her with Witch-Bane."
"I don't understand."
"I said your sister has made a mistake, but it wasn't failing to kill me—it was placing her trust in allies."
She stared at him in confusion. "You make no sense, Mage-Hunter."
"Not at all. I make perfect sense. Tlathia knew your mother would send me after her. That's why she was so careful. She left nothing behind of a magical nature that I could use to track her, but the manlings don't know of my talents. And where her allies go, Tlathia follows. I don't have to track your sister. I can track the manling mage she rescued."
"I … how?"
Ulfir drew a large black glove with silver chains from a pouch on his belt. As he pulled it free, she felt its immense magical power, like nothing she had ever experienced before. She raised a hand toward it, desperate to possess it. Ulfir snatched it back. "This is not for you, witch."
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