But my fight looked to just be starting. Since no more bullets came my way, I made Morphageus into a tin cup again and stuffed it into the bottom of my haversack. As I moved my gaze down to see what Stonewall Jackson thought of his men’s performance, I saw that the famous commander had already ridden out toward the action. My head pounded from the sickening thrill of the thing. I panted like an overheated mutt. Every muscle shook from the strain of being under fire and clinging to my tree branch. That explained why, even with most of the battle noise gone, I didn’t notice the ravens swooping in to scratch my eyes out.
The spyglass saved me. I still had it out at its full length and swung with both hands. Two feet of brass caught my first screeching attacker dead in his beak. He made an urk sound and fell away. His friend following close behind took advantage of my follow-through to try to slash open the top of my scalp. Lucky for me I’d found that old hat on the road. It jumped off my head, still in the raven’s claws. Wrapping my legs around a branch, I whipped my still-intact face around to try to spot the rest of the flock.
I counted at least eight of them, and these were no ordinary ravens. They were the size of eagles, with sickly green glowing eyes. Their taloned feet were as large as an adult man’s hand. Sharp as bayonets, their black beaks seemed to my frightened eyes to be longer than railroad spikes. Great. Evil demon birds from the bowels of hell are tryin’ to rip me to shreds and I’m stuck alone in a tree. And they laughed! They all hooted and cackled as they tried to do me in. I wasn’t seeing the humor in the situation, but then the mouse seldom enjoys the hunt as much as the cat does. My Stone-enhanced reflexes kept me safe for a while, since I could see them clear, even though it was full dark. Time after time I clubbed a heavy feathered body, sending it away with a yelp. But two more would be on me in a flash, pouncing from another direction. They never gave me time to reach for Morphageus, which must’ve been their object. Word had gotten around the Merchantry that Verity the Valiant was no slouch in a fair fight, even if only twelve. I started to take damage. My overalls, tough as they were, opened up shredded gashes. An ear bled buckets from a beak nip. The back of my left hand had a nasty talon slice. A pair of the birds teamed up to wrench the spyglass out of my grip. Then the rest took turns smashing into my body. I was about to be overwhelmed and knocked fifty feet down out of the tree.
Covering my face to protect it, I waited for my legs to give out and let go of the branch that held me up. One more good body blow would do it. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the ravens stopped laughing and started snarling. Their sounds changed to pained grunts. I took the chance to see what went on. Right then I learned what good friends I had.
Pirate queen Roberta, as furious as Blackbeard, had shot up from the ground to light into the raven flock. Her white beak, made for crushing iron-hard nuts, snapped the leg from one of the enemy birds before he even knew she attacked. Trailing blood, he shrieked and dove away. The crimson parrot roared her rage and dug her terrible claws into the body of the next raven. With a whiplike change of direction she smashed him
head-first into the trunk of the tree. His limp carcass fell to the ground like a rock.
Two more ravens resumed their attack on me, ignoring Roberta’s wrath. A mistake they didn’t live to regret. The angry parrot beheaded another with one chomp of her terrible beak while a shrieking gray-brown ball of fury dove from her back onto the other. In mid-air Ernie threw Romulus’ dreadful Bowie knife. It thunked into the tree next to my ear. “There you go, missy! Give ‘em what for!” he cried, landing on the neck of his enemy. Before the growling raven knew what had hit it the stout mouse plunged his sharpened knitting needle lance into its vitals several times. “From hell’s heart I stab at thee!” he snarled.
Somebody besides me has read that odd book? No more time to think, for our foes weren’t giving up. Wrenching the big blade free, I cut at another black-feathered attacker. My stroke missed, but it flapped away. I didn’t want to risk trying to dig the cup out of my haversack and fight with it. It’d take too long and I might drop the thing. Four more of the fearsome ravens remained and they redoubled their efforts to do me in. But now I had a free hand to hold onto the branch with. Clutching the limb with my bleeding left hand, I took vicious swipes at the huge birds to keep them at bay. Roberta had picked up Ernie again and my allies glided in to help me. I hoped they’d arrive in time. Now the ravens were gouging at my neck with their straight razor-claws. I could feel sticky warmth running down inside my shirt. Hope that ain’t as serious as it feels. One foul bird kept pecking at my eyes, forcing me to let go of the branch to cover my face while I slashed desperately at the ones on my neck. That gave them their chance. That horrid evil cackling stabbed my ears again as the lot of them leaped onto my back and pushed me out of the tree.
Thanks to the Stone boosting my reflexes, I didn’t break my back on the first thick limb I hit on the way down. Twisting like a cat, I dropped the knife before I could land on it and struck the heavy branch with both hands in front of me. If I hadn’t been able to see in the dark it would’ve clobbered me with no warning. As it was it drove the breath out of my lungs with a loud oof and flipped me backwards head over heels. Wildly snatching at anything and everything, I managed to get hold of enough vegetation to slow my fall just enough so that when the next large hunk of wood came my way I just did hang on. Though bruised all over, lip bleeding and chin scraped raw, I hadn’t crashed into the earth like a speeding comet.
I also hadn’t gotten free of those pesky ravens. The deadly quartet had followed me down, slowed by the thick foliage and Roberta’s feisty pursuit. Ernie had leaped from her back to give her more freedom of action. Shouting something that sounded like “Long live the queen!”, the plump mouse skittered along the oak’s trunk just like squirrels did, his lance in his jaws. A look down told me that I had a ten-foot drop to the ground. That same look also told me that the odds were about to shift in my favor.
With giddy giggles of imminent victory, my dark enemies plummeted down at me, beaks and talons ready for the kill. Just then my dark friend stepped out onto my limb and swung a branch thicker than my leg. Romulus had climbed the tree to come to my rescue. Like a cheap ball smacked by the star batter in a game of rounders, the lead raven disappeared in a puff of feathered goo. Shrieking at this sudden vicious counterattack, the rest of the birds slowed their dive and scattered. Now Roberta raged amongst them like a red tornado, cursing in her salty piratical way. Ernie added as many needle jabs as he could get in. In short order the ravens decided that they’d had enough punishment and flew off into the night.
My arms and legs gave out together. Like an empty potato sack I went all slack. Romulus caught me in his great arms before I could finish the ravens’ work for them by falling out of the tree and breaking my neck. The Marshal draped me over a shoulder as gentle as he could and climbed down. Setting me on the grass, he knelt down on both knees and asked, “Miss Verity?” I must’ve looked awful, judging by his worried look. Bleeding from every bit of exposed skin, clothes torn to ribbons by beaks and claws, lip swelling up to the size of an apricot. The blood inside my shirt felt like dried paste. I reached up to my head with a trembling hand and tried to talk.
“It’s okay miss. Ol’ Romulus is here. Is you bad hurt?”
“I…I…” The words didn’t want to come out of my bruised chest. It hurt to talk.
“Yeah? What you say?” He looked like a father on his child’s death watch.
“I…really liked that hat.”
Two mice, round as apples, stomped up to my face. Standing on my aching chin, so close it made my eyes cross, Ernie sniffed, “Yep. She’s fine,” and scampered off out of sight.
Making all sorts of pained ah’s and ooh’s, I sat up with some help from Romulus. Ernie had climbed onto the giant’s shoulder. Flapping in from someplace behind me, the dread pirate Roberta landed on his other arm, which he held out for her. My new straw hat, now with fashionable raven-claw accents, dangled from he
r pale curved beak. I wanted to kiss her.
“Here, matey,” she said, dropping the hat into my outstretched fingers. “A girl just ain’t dressed without a fine chapeau.”
I wiped my eyes. Other than Eddie, I’d never had any friends. Not real ones you could count on. I guess being the odd girl, the one who dressed like a boy and played with swords and memorized history books, had kept others away. Nobody invited me to do things with them. Girls’ games at school went on without me, and I’d beaten up enough street toughs that boys avoided me, too. Even adults steered clear, except for Ma and Mr. Ford. Maybe carrying the Stone had something to with that, too. Perhaps its weird energy warned people off me, somehow. Having the Chosen One, the pitiless warrior who the whole wide world expected to save it from everything evil, at your daughter’s birthday party would be awkward. For whatever reason, I’d always stuck to myself. But now I had friends, real friends, who joked with me and shared their rations with me and even occasionally rescued me from soul-sucking devil birds.
“Would you think your Stone-Warden a great big sissy girl if she gave you guys a hug?”
So we had a long lovely warm moment, huddled together at the edge of that gory battlefield. Roberta wrapped a long red and blue wing around one shoulder while Romulus drooped a huge arm around the other. Ernie snuggled into the hollow of my neck, his cold wet nose tickling my ear. It may not be your traditional family, but I’ll take it. Our cozy cuddle ended when I noticed two things. One, even this loving contact with my damaged frame hurt like the Dickens. And two, my backside felt cold from peeking out through a big raven rip.
“Romulus, do you still have that housewife? I need a patch or two here.”
Truth be told, I needed a lot more than a patch or two. We used up pretty near every bit of thread in the sewing kit putting my clothes back together. After an hour of sartorial maintenance I felt ready to face my fate again. Too bad my creaky body didn’t agree. I felt like I’d been run over by an Army supply wagon. Nothing seemed broken. Small consolation. Every little movement made my joints scream. This was damage I would never wish on anybody, so it never entered my mind to ask for Romulus to agree to take it for me. Besides, I dreaded what Jasper might charge for it. It annoyed me to no end that I’d battled Venoma to a standstill, cleaned the clocks of the whole Hellfiend Legion, and dispatched a platoon of Bullies, but had been whupped up on by a bunch of overgrown starlings.
Despite my complaining bones, we had to keep moving. Roberta told us that the right wing of the Union army was falling back from the hill and moving south of the Chickahominy, trying to link up with the rest of McClellan’s forces. If we skirted around the north side of that dreadful battlefield we might find a way down the peninsula to the coast. So off we went, my slow pained gait dictating our pace. The map turned out to be a godsend, showing us handy trails that large military forces couldn’t use and warning us of bogs and morasses that might trap us. Sooner than I’d hoped we were picking our way around the hill that the Texans had stormed, keeping as quiet as we could. Not a stone’s throw away, the surviving Rebs were burying their fallen comrades.
The graves were shallow and hurriedly made, not much more than a quick scraping of the earth that would just cover the bodies. Later on, when the fighting permitted it, details might return to do a proper job or to take the boys to their families. But just as likely, this’d be their final place of rest. I hoped that none of our little band would end up so.
But what I really hoped, eyes wide and heart thumping, was that they’d buried two dozen men alive. If not, then the dead were rising. And coming our way.
28/ Angels
The remaining ten corpses all held muskets, which they cocked and aimed in our direction.
Boy, just once I’d like them dreams to be wrong. Stopping dead, so to speak, I waved to the others and pointed. As I backed up and bumped smack into Romulus, I felt for the Stone. It had turned so cold it almost burned me. Big surprise there, huh? I wished it’d frosted up a little earlier, before they’d spotted us. Now it was fight or flight.
Over twenty figures shuffled toward us from the right side. Some stood full upright, some were hunched over, some still struggled to their feet as they climbed out of the hasty graves. Whatever foul magick had brought them back to life hadn’t repaired their death wounds. Most had huge bleeding holes in their bodies, some so large I could see pale rib cages and other inner parts. Several waved jagged stumps where they’d lost hands or arms. Brains oozed from fist-sized rents in the skulls of others. None of them made a sound.
But their living comrades-in-arms did. They screamed bloody murder, threw down their digging tools, and lit out to the south as fast as their horrified legs could carry them. Some even left their muskets. Bad news for us. The walking dead soldiers took up every weapon available. In a instant we faced a whole mess of angry monsters who came at us with bayonets, sabers, and pistols. A few had grabbed the discarded picks and shovels. On they came, as determined as they’d been when they’d charged the Yankee line.
“You know,” said Ernie from his perch on Romulus’ lofty shoulder, “this reminds me of that afternoon in Edinburgh in ’57.”
“Uh-huh,” nodded the hulking Marshal. “But as I recalls it, they was empty suits o’ armor.”
“Right you are, mate. We ran away that time, too, didn’t we?”
“We did. But I had still had four good legs back then and could make better time.”
Having learned my lesson up in the tree, the cup hung on my belt again, easy to reach. I swung Morphageus up as a round shield. Jasper complained about my only loving him because he could stop bullets. Didn’t I respect him as a person? I ignored him and focused on the advancing corpses. Romulus moved to my left, his Bowie out in front of him. Without saying a word we agreed to back away rather than fight. For my part, I had no stomach to kill a poor soldier who’d paid the ultimate sacrifice already, especially one still warm. Plus, I feared that we couldn’t kill something already dead. Maybe our weapons wouldn’t have any effect and we’d be overwhelmed. So we headed north, looking for a way out of our predicament without blundering into whatever mage had reanimated these unfortunates.
“Roberta!” I called out to the dark, not sure where she was. I tried to holler and whisper at the same time. “I think they’re drivin’ us toward somethin’ worse. Go see.”
“On my way, Cap’n!” she squawked from above and behind us.
My witched eyes spotted no Bullies or anything else that shouldn’t have been near. I heard no sounds of anybody in ambush, either. But the Stone stayed fiercely frozen. We turned east onto a cow path, the risen dead keeping pace with us. Some of them circled around to hem us in against the hill. Our only open way was to either climb it, which we didn’t dare try because the top still held thousands of live Rebels, or hug it and continue east in the direction that the retreating Federals had gone. The ground rolled quite a bit and tripped us up. Brush caught at our feet. Hexed sight or no, I took branches in the snoot. That smarted something awful with the damage my face already had from the raven fight. But we stayed ahead of the undead men, who showed no signs of wanting to catch us or fire their guns. Just like the Bullies in Washington, they moved us in the direction they wanted us to go. That can’t be good, any way you look at it.
Roberta flapped back, landing on Romulus’ wrist. “Sure enough, shipmate,” she said in her hoarse voice, “three men-o’-war, ‘bout a hundred yards ahead and to the left. They’re hidin’ in shell holes so you can’t spy ‘em from the ground.”
“That’s what I figured,” I sighed. “They mean to snipe us as we go by, pinned against this hill and no way to back up.”
“I kin work my ‘round behind ‘em,” Romulus suggested, thumbing the edge of his Bowie.. “Surprise ‘em from the back side.”
“That’s the plan!” Ernie waved his needle spear and snarled. “Give ‘em the old what-for.”
“No!” I hissed. “Not if these are the fellers from the ot
her night. I saw what that Pluto’s Bane did to somebody who charged ‘em. It weren’t pretty.”
So we were in for it. Couldn’t stop, couldn’t reverse, couldn’t fight. All the chance we had was to make a run for it and hope they missed us with every shot of that loathsome purple fire. Not good odds. Maybe I could shield us all with Morphageus.
Yeah. And maybe I can jump to the moon and bring back some green cheese.
Roberta lifted off from Romulus’ arm and circled us. “Might hafta tack into the wind and fight our way through these fellers behind us here.”
I shook my head. “Too many. If we had the drop on ‘em, maybe. But they have guns and they’re ready for us. Besides, I don’t think just wackin’ ‘em will do the trick. We’d probably hafta chop ‘em into tiny pieces. They’re already dead.”
We ducked low as an under-strength troop of Confederate cavalry rode along the base of the hill toward the new Federal position. There had been sporadic firing since the big battle but it looked like both sides would wait till daylight to start seriously killing one another again. I wished we had that option. The walking corpses began to press us harder, shooing us in the direction of the trio of green-garbed assassins. A couple of them were almost in sword range. Bayonets jabbed at us to encourage movement into the killing zone. As an experiment I slowed down and moved to my left a step. Part of the crowd of dead soldiers filled in where I’d just been but as long as I kept moving and didn’t start a fight nobody attacked. Whoever had brought them to life only intended for them to escort us. And that gave me an idea, which I whispered to Romulus in a rushed single sentence. He let out a low laugh and nodded. Boy, I hope this works. Don’t know what else to do.
Brimstone and Lily (Legacy Stone Adventures) Page 28