Banshee

by Terry Maggert

  “You have a new talent, friend.” Her laughter was rich and warm. French joined her, leaning on the dragon for support.

  “It would appear that my arrival here was no accident. I am recovering . . . memories.” Banshee looked into the cave with curiosity. “There is a city in there, and I think I failed the people of it, long ago.”

  “But you didn’t fail this time,” French said with finality. “You’ll never fail again. We’re going to win this war, Banshee. I know it.”

  Saavin laughed as exhaustion swept her control away like the dust of the vanquished worm. “We are, aren’t we?”

  French nodded. “Yes, and we’re going to rebuild. But first, we need to fill in a hole.”

  Every mobile person stood before the cave. The afternoon was breezy and warm, and the demons had begun the disgusting process of breaking down under the touch of sunlight. French handed the detonator to Saavin, who bowed graciously. Two charges were placed at weak points near the opening; a quick survey of town opinion confirmed that even if buildings collapsed, they would never again allow anything to emerge from the bowels of hell. Without a word, Saavin depressed the trigger and the world flashed white.

  C-5 was molecular, and it brought power untold into the darkness of the cave. French had set the charges far enough in that any blowback would be minimal, although there was a real chance of earthquakes, given the power of the explosive. The cracking boom overwhelmed everyone present and, for a queasy moment, it seemed they had failed in collapsing the tunnel to hell.

  It only seemed that way. The rumbling cataclysm threw dust and debris outward in a jet, and it was some moments before the scope of the destruction could be seen. Once the persistent wind cleared the air, dragons began to use their superior eyesight as they all pronounced that hell was closed for business. The resulting cheers were weak but genuine; it would be some time before the people of New Madrid could feel any real joy about the costly victory. There were too many dead, and too much pain left over to do that. But soon, thought many who watched. As people began to filter away, Saavin leaned against French for support, and something more.

  She looked up at him, open appraisal on her face. Was he ready? Was she? Without a word, he took her hand, gently. She leaned further into him, deciding that it was time, but on their own terms. She squeezed his huge hand, feeling the whorls and ridges that told the story of his life. He kissed her hair, and they turned to Banshee, then looked at the remains of the cave.

  “First, we rebuild New Madrid,” French said. The hot wind rushed past them in its eternal hurry. The sun pulsed, bathing them with possibilities.

  She smiled, and they both paused, listening.

  It was nearly nightfall before Colvin Watley could muster the courage to try the trap door again. He raged against the metal until the ring snapped off in his hand, leaving him sweating and bereft of any hope for a safe descent.

  “It’s locked.” The voice drifted up to him, and he peered cautiously over the edge to look down.

  Honor Dolarhyde stood below, smiling up at him. “I put a lock on the exterior. I figured you for a coward, no matter what else.” She sniffed, and added, “Didn’t think you had the stones to shoot French. That was a surprise.” Her scarred face wrinkled with mirth.

  Watley ran a hand through his hair as he tried to compose himself. He needed her, despite her accurate assessment of his low value. Charm would offend her, so he tried for honesty. Or what approximated for honesty with him, at any rate. He tamped down the anger that an ugly, second-rate woman would have seen through him so easily.

  “I didn’t think I could. I won’t be able to stay in New Madrid. They’ll kill me,” he admitted.

  Honor nodded thoughtfully. “That’s about right.”

  Watley looked out at the last rays of the sun fleeing westward. “If you help me get down, I’ll leave.”

  “I know,” she answered serenely. Her calm was maddening. “I’ll help you. And you won’t even have to go alone.”

  “I won’t?” Genuine interest took root in his belly.

  Honor pointed over the ridge. “Walk that way. He’s waiting for you.”

  The rope she’d thrown him had split his hands, and he was bleeding freely, but he was alive. She’d pulled a gun on him the second he stepped over the side, handing him a bottle of water and pointing with her chin. Watley could barely see in the gloom until Honor set flame to a torch and passed it to his outstretched hand. “Go.” She waved the pistol, and he obeyed.

  The walk was long, and a chill fell upon him as the evening air grew cool, but before the torch died low he saw a figure seated on a stone, hunched over a small campfire. The person wore a robe, pulled down against the chill.

  As he approached, Watley called out, “Friend?”

  He stood unmoving, paralyzed with indecision. Honor had taken his rifle. He was helpless.

  “Good of you to join me.” Orontes pulled back the spattered robe, a smile of unhinged evil on his face. “You’re second. Our earlier guest, I am sad to say, has expired.”

  Across from Orontes, Wesley Yarnell’s remains still smoked lightly. Things had been done to him, and his body seemed partially naked and small. A smell of chemicals drifted to Watley’s nose, and he prepare to bolt.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Colvin.” Orontes leaned back without taking his eyes from the dancing flames. “There are too many uncertainties in the darkness.” He seemed affable, even friendly, despite the crazed look of hate on his features.

  Watley asked, “Who are you?”

  There was a long silence, then Orontes gestured at a space next to him. “Sit. I will not bite. You have my word.” He laughed at his own wit, then waited for Watley to settle. When he turned to regard the big man, his eyes were fired from within with a perfect zeal. This was a man infected with the truth of something terrible, and he wanted to share.

  Colvin kept silent, watching the robed figure with horrified interest

  “I am a liaison. A . . . trade official, of sorts. I arrange for transactions, you might say,” Orontes quipped.

  Watley felt the ice of total fear, and asked in a whisper, “Are you the devil?”

  The answering roar of laughter rolled out into the night as Orontes dissolved into coughing gales before regaining control. He wiped his eyes with a bloody finger, still chuckling. “Oh, that is—I never knew you to be so archaic, Colvin. Here I deemed you a simple cutthroat. You’re a man of depth and superstition. That’s good.” He paused to choose his words. “I am not the devil, nor am I any devil. As I said, I’m merely a man who facilitates things in order to maintain my lifestyle. An opportunist, if you will. We actually have a great deal in common, don’t you think?”

  Watley knew that was dangerously close to the truth, and swallowed nervously. “You bring the demons? Did you kill Asheville?”

  “That was a beautiful day,” Orontes enthused. He slapped hands to thighs and added, “I select targets for the legions of hell and, in turn, I am rewarded. I have certain proclivities that are quite difficult to enjoy in private, so I am given ample opportunity—and space, mind you—to explore my needs.” He looked meaningfully at Wesley Yarnell’s remains.

  “Are you going to—I’ll fight you, Orontes. I’m not going out like that,” he spat while rising to his feet. He might be a liar, but his sense of self-preservation was strong.

  “Oh, I counted on that. You’re a remarkable survivor, Colvin,” Orontes said with a salute. His robe rippled with the motion, and it sounded like the sigh of a lover. “You may run, if you wish.”

  Run I will, buddy. Colvin planted one shoe to go and the ground collapsed under his foot. Searing heat paralyzed him, and he screamed before falling to his knees, palms out. Both hands erupted into pain as he began a complicated dance of evasion, to no avail. Small holes appeared under him as acidic venom began to slow his motions. He rolled onto his back while looking into the fire, every nerve in his body ringing with electrified agony. A snout burst through
the earth in front of him, its pallid gray skin shiny with mucous. A second and third animal began to push through, grunting with joy at the scent of his cooking flesh. Colvin did not recognize the demons, but he thought French had mentioned them during one of his interminable planning sessions. The first brood pig latched onto his face and began to dissolve his mouth and throat with a series of muscular licks from its thin tongue. Before he could scream, his vocal chords parted as Orontes began to snap his fingers peremptorily at the remaining demons.

  At their master’s call, they turned their blind gray snouts toward the writhing man, and the last words Colvin Watley ever heard were, “Here, piggy. Here.”

  Epilogue

  Greenery peeped defiantly through the late snow, and the smell of wood smoke tickled Saavin’s throat. Every smell bothers me nowadays. She ran a hand over the curve of her stomach, watching French as he counted the foundations for the new defensive positions. New Madrid, like Saavin, was growing. Her husband waved to Banshee, who was flying overhead to measure the distance for water lines; never again would New Madrid depend on nature to provide. It was time for mankind to seize control of any small patch of earth that could be had. From there, French and Saavin, along with the dragons, intended to stabilize and pacify the entire area, then the continent, and finally, the world. It mattered nothing to them that their lives might end before the peace was achieved; their unborn child would carry on when they were gone.

  French dropped his hand to the head of an enormous scalehound standing between them. The demons’ collar was embossed with the name Longshot, and her tongue lagged from a scaly muzzle filled with needle teeth. She looked up expectantly at French and wagged the stubby tail that jutted from her sloping hindquarters. This was the third generation of scalehounds that had hatched under the care of Cassie Waterman, whose instincts with the newborn demons had been nearly flawless. Raised by hand and kept apart from their brethren, the scalehounds were already developing a mask of dark color around their eyes. Longshot was now capable of hours in the sun; her children would be even more resistant to that which killed her ancestors. Litter by litter, they were domesticating, and French had plans for their former enemies.

  “Have you been to LaSalle’s grave?” Saavin asked. The entire town dug the brave dragon’s resting place by hand, honoring him with a place near the river. A carillon of round stones were mortared in placed, rising ten feet high and topped with a small brass plate that read Friend. Dragon. Hero.

  French nodded. “The flowers are growing. Buttercups, I think.” It was fitting that something beautiful should grow there.

  “Banshee misses him. They all do.” The surviving Explorers selected new riders, an event of such joy that the town had forgotten its grievous losses, if only for a day.

  “We’ll keep reaching out. Others will come, and we’re ready.” He looked at the growing town. “We will be, at any rate.”

  “I know, dear heart.” Saavin took his hand, looking over the expanse of snow and grass. Banshee roared at something in the distance, and she smiled. “But I don’t think that hell is going to be ready for us.”

  Glossary of Terms

  Admiralty The leadership and structure of Trinity in the former state of Texas, U.S.A. Under the guidance of Commodore Moss Eilert and his wife Bryna, Trinity grew to a population of four thousand, using a command structure based loosely on that of the American Navy.

  Bloodshadow A species of demon seen exclusively underground. They are vampiric, flat, and nearly colorless. They move via muscular contractions and two rows of vestigial hooks along their edges. They have no visible eyes, a small, round mouth filled with hollow fangs, and a bulbous reservoir on their back capable of holding several liters of humn blood. Sightless and weak they are incapable of hunting in all but the weakest sunlight. At two meters in length, their weight varies wildly based on how recently they have fed.

  Bulwark A time period spanning nearly one year, the Bulwark follows the first attacks from the creatures of hell, and ends approximately three years after the rise of the first dragons. During this period of intense, global warfare, mankind was reduced by nearly seven billion people due to the predation of demons, disease, and internecine fighting. The stabilization and advance of some communities follow the Bulwark, as mankind began to respond with offensives designed to reclaim lost lands.

  Cat-Louse A small, demonic hybrid with a hard carapace, six to ten legs, and a structure approximating that of a giant isopod. The largest examples near two kilos in weight, and have wildly variant eyes located on stalks. These creatures are seen prior to large scale demonic attacks; it is unknown if their relationship is symbiotic or parasitic.

  Demon Any creature or being that emerges on the night of the killing moon. Demons are presumed to be magical in origin, capable of limitless forms, and designed exclusively to feed on humans. All demons are susceptible to sunlight, and cannot survive in daylight for extended periods of time without considerable modifications. Certain demon species are capable of speech; the bulk of their forms are mindless killers. Demons have been seen massing less than one ounce (Wasp demons in Central Arizona) and as large as forty tons (The Behemoth of Charleston).

  Dragon A reptilian creature first known to modern man during The Rising, dragons are sentient beings of unknown origin. Their life span is unknown, as is their reproductive cycle and general physiology. They emerge from hidden locations fully aware of current conditions, with language skills and combat readiness far surpassing that of any other living creature on earth. Their size can range from thirty to eighty-five meters in length, with a top weight of nearly twelve tons. They are winged quadrupeds with long tails used for balance and flight adjustments. Warm blooded omnivores, their diet is opportunistic and capable of appreciating subtlety of the highest order. Their skin is thick, durable, and varicolored; their wings are tough membranes that provide adequate lift for superior flight skills. A top speeds, some dragons have been known to brush two hundred knots of velocity. They suffer no visible effects from altitude sickness, and their skeleton is presumed to be hollow or partially so. In terms of vision, their normal range of sight is two to four miles; certain dragons have been known to have an effective sight distance of up to six miles. Of all the known dragons, only one has any properties that would be deemed truly magical or supernatural.

  Engineer At New Madrid, Engineers are responsible for a variety of duties including, but not limited to the creation and maintenance of hydroelectric power, lighting systems, and salvage operations.

  Eurypterid Originally, a type of giant sea scorpion from the Ordovician period, these arthropods reappeared as demons after the rising. Some examples neared twenty-five feet in length, and had human features. Their presence at seaside communities led to distinct military doctrines designed to counteract their poison; it is not known if there is any anti-venin. The eurypterids have been found as far north of Baffin Bay, and as far south as Tierra Del Feugo. Their means of reproduction is unknown, but they are presumed to be a magical animal.

  Firsters The initial group of dragons to emerge during the rising, Firsters are smaller dragons up to thirty meters in length, tending towards great speed and agility. Of the designated class of nearly ninety Firsters, all survive to this day. Coloration tends towards blues, black, and mottled hues not unlike naturally camouflaged felines. Firsters are notoriously adept at aerial combat.

  Militia Any organized military force charged with defending a surviving community. Militia range as small as forty (The Police Brigade of Lower Onowa) to nearly 4000 (Greater New Madrid Militia).

  Northern Bulwark Geographical name given to the lands of the former nations situated on the continent of North America. The Northern Bulwark includes parts of the Canadian prairies, central and southern lands of the United States, and much of the upper Mexican states. The border is fluid and expanding as the war progresses.

  Old Staters Survivors old enough that they can recall the existence of the United States, its pr
ior borders, and cultural information from prior to the fall of the world. Old Staters are regarded as charming anachronisms in many communities. Wiser populations use their information to salvage and build upon important features of the former United States.

  Progeny The first class of humans to establish a relationship with dragons. Progeny came from all walks of life; their reason for selection was known only to the dragons themselves, and has never been revealed. They invariably flew south or to coastal regions during the early years of the war. The last Progeny died in 2071 during the Third Battle of Tampa Bay.

  Rising The event when dragons began to emerge from the ground; this precipitated The Fall, or the calamitous end of mankind’s dominance over the planet. The Rising was not a single event; rather it continues to this day as new dragons emerge to join the fight. The first dragon to appear was Ilmater, in the former state of Minnesota, United States.

  Scalehound A doglike demonic species, Scalehounds are a rare consistency among the wild derivations of the supernatural world. Scalehounds range in size from that of a medium sized dog to a small pony; their coloration is virtually limitless although they tend toward highly effective black and green camouflage patterns. Scalehounds are known to be monotremes, laying numerous clutches in short, productive birthing cycles. They are intelligent, fast, and capable of pack hunting techniques. Research indicates that their physical appearance is similar to a reptilian Thylacine, but capable of greater height and weights than the extinct marsupial wolf of Australia.