“No. Battles are best fought by the young, and if I went out there, I would be in the way . . . or, quite likely, the beast’s target. Still, just holding it in my hand would be a comfort right now.” Livorus paused, and uncovered the mouthpiece. “Yes, I’m still holding.”
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Adam swore internally as Sigrun pulled back, landing in the middle of the road. Making herself bait. She was actually leaning, heavily, on her spear, her left foot raised off the ground, with, as Trennus had pointed out, a huge paw still attached. From his vantage point, he’d seen the neighbors from across the street run out their front door seconds before the refrigerator had come out the wall of the house and into the right side-yard, where it had slammed into the neighboring house and burst open, sending fruit, vegetables, and covered ceramic dishes everywhere. He could see Callisuni and Duros, dropping down from their perches, Callisuni across the street, trying to get people to move out of their houses and away from the area, but terrifyingly close to the enormous creature as it stomped after Sigrun. The space between the houses was simply too cramped to allow it to unfurl its wings and take flight. Thank god. Duros, off to Adam’s right, was on this side of the street. “I’ve got a shot on the creature,” Adam said, his voice calm. “Taking it.” He wasn’t sure what good it was doing, but Sigrun said that cold iron was at least having an effect on the creature, and he needed to give her all the help he could. The rifle recoiled into his shoulder, and he could see the creature rock back for a moment . . . but then it just kept moving forward, steps increasing in speed. It was so heavy that every single tread actually shook the ground, and wingspan or no, Adam couldn’t fathom how the beast could fly. Magic. Always magic. He adjusted, and fired another series of rounds in a tight cluster, aiming for the armored chest, wanting to test just how strong what looked like tortoiseshell really could be. “Armor’s holding,” he reported, after looking through his scope. “Probably enchanted. Target head and limbs, if you’re using a gun.” He followed his own advice, lifting his gun slightly, and firing again, this time right for the creature’s head . . . and it reeled back, throwing an arm in front of its face. Got your attention, did I?
The creature stormed forward another couple of steps, to where the neighbors’ Tsunam Mark 7 was parked in their gravel driveway, and actually stomped a foot on the car’s trunk, and tipped it back, dropping into a crouch behind it. Adam fired another burst of rounds at the creature behind its improvised shield, and said into the radio, tightly, “Target is adapting to modern conditions. Callisuni, it’s too damned close to you. Get the civilians out of there, and run.”
“Civilians are away. I have a shot on it from behind. I’ve got a fireball round in this derringer. Taking it.” The Gaul’s voice was very calm.
“No, damn it, don’t, let it stay on Caetia!“
The Gaul took his single shot from the neighbors’ front porch, and the round lit up like a falling star as it shot towards the demon . . . and then the creature screamed, stood, holding the car in its one good hand . . . and threw the vehicle, like an Olympic athlete hurling a hammer, right at the Gallic lictor. Adam shouted something incoherent, and opened fire again, even as lightning came down once more . . . but the car was already in flight, and slammed, full-force, into Callisuni, taking out the lictor and the porch’s support pillars, too. The civilians, who were running away, heard the noise, turned to look . . . and stood, as if rooted in place with terror, as the beast lifted its head to howl once more.
“Couldn’t you stop it?” Adam shouted in Kanmi’s direction.
“No. Too far.” There was anger and anguish mixed in Kanmi’s tone, but tightly, even rigidly suppressed at the moment. “It’s like trying to knit with two needles at the ends of sixty-foot ropes. I need it in range.” The sorcerer opened his window, and started to duck out through it, and Adam reached out a hand and jerked him back.
“Stay here. Caetia, pull that damned thing back. I’m going after the civilians. Duros, keep the ones on this side of the street moving. Don’t let them look back.”
“I’m going down, too,” Trennus said, tightly. “I’ve got to start prepping a circle. Might be able to slow it down, or bind it, even if I can’t banish the damned thing.”
Adam opened the weapons case at his feet and pulled out several grenades on a strap, tossing them over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get close enough to use the damned things, given what had just happened to Callisuni, but it paid to be prepared. Then he opened his second-story window and dropped down onto the slanting roof of the first story, and then slid and slipped his way to the edge, before sliding his weapon on its strap, to his back and dropping down. He hung by his fingertips from the edge of the roof for a moment, before dropping and landing in a crouch. Trennus dropped beside him, seconds later, and they both took cover behind a parked car, for a moment. Adam offered Trennus his .45, and Trennus held up his hands, palms out, refusing. “I have no idea how to use that thing. I’ll hit Sigrun with it.”
“Can you distract it?”
“Not without tapping that ley-line.”
“Do it.” Adam popped up from behind the trunk of the car, and took a couple of shots at the creature, which was already moving away from the house and towards Sigrun, who remained, invitingly, at the middle of the street, shouting challenges at it in Cimbric and pulling down lightning on its head . . . usually without any noticeable effect, beyond light singeing. His eyes widened slightly as it kicked over a light post, the metal bending with a shriek . . . and then stooped to pick it up. “Caetia, get out of there.”
“It’s not close enough yet,” she returned, over the radio. “Esh and Matru need it closer? I’m bringing it closer.”
“Sig, it’s going to eat you alive. Move!” Adam fired several more times, in rapid, controlled bursts, but couldn’t stop the creature as it lifted the light pole in one hand; the pole itself wasn’t all that much taller than it was, itself . . . took a step forward . . . and lightning sizzled down into the pole this time.
That hurt it. The metal conducted the electricity that much more effectively than a direct hit, and more of it, apparently. The beast howled in agony. “Good one, Sig!” Adam shouted . . . and then the beast unlocked from its paralysis and swung the blisteringly hot pole in a wide arc, right at Sigrun herself. Oh, harah . . . .
___________________
Sigrun registered the impact, but reality went away for her, for a moment or three. She never remembered sailing through the air like a ragdoll hit by a club. She never even remembered slamming, back-first, into the fire hydrant across the street. All she remembered, was opening her eyes, and seeing clouds above. Rain pouring down at the same time as seeing water geyser upwards in a white line and stream back down again, spraying her face and body. And then the pain hit, and her vision skewed as her body tried to pull her back down into oblivion once more. She panted, shallowly, as pain stabbed in from all directions; her left ribs were a mass of agony, surely broken; her spine and right ribs, almost as bad. Sigrun reached out her right hand, and called her spear back to her. Leaned her head against the hydrant, which was still pouring fluid up into the sky, like a waterfall crazily in reverse. For a moment, it was hard to understand what was up, and what was down. Then the hulking creature moved into her field of vision, its huge wings lifting. Blocking her view of everything else. Lifting the lamppost once more.
Sigrun concentrated, hard, on trying to heal . . . and on timing the moment at which she’d need to fly. If she even could.
___________________
Over the radio, inside the study, as Livorus stood, still on hold, clear, sharp words rattled out in between crackles of static. “Caetia’s down.” The Carthaginian’s voice, that.
“Is she dead?” That, from the Pict.
“She’s moving.” Adam, voice hard. Maor ben Emmet raised his head. There was cold, clear professionalism in that voice, but also a note he’d never heard in his son’s tones before.
&
nbsp; “Fucker hit her pretty hard. Had to have thrown her thirty, forty feet, right into that hydrant. Anyone else would be dead right now.” The Carthaginian again.
Livorus, for his part, hit the desk with the side of his fist so hard, that everything on it jumped. But his voice stayed absolutely calm as he spoke into the mouthpiece. “Yes. I’m still holding. Tell your people to get a move on. I’ve got one dead and one injured so far here. No. Don’t send emergency response vehicles till I give the word that it’s clear. Unless you have several dozen people with assault rifles to protect your paramedics, I cannot guarantee their safety. Is that clear?”
Back outside, Adam snapped into his radio, “I trust that’s close enough for you now?” and ran for Sigrun, dropping down by her to fire on the creature again. Have to keep it off her, and stop it from pursuing any of the civilians down this east side of the street. Not that it seems interested in them for the moment.
___________________
“Oh yes,” Kanmi said, from the window of the house, his tone fiercely delighted. “And people have finally given me things to work with. Even better.”
Until this moment, the only forces at work in this battle had been a few spatters of rain, some lightning—handy, but the beast seemed to largely ignore it—kinetic force, from the creature’s punches and throws—inertia, and gravity. All useful, in their way, but they’d all been at the periphery of Kanmi’s current range. Now, however, there was a metal pole right in the center of his reach, and it was hot from the direct lightning strike, though, again, the incarnated spirit seemed to be ignoring the heat. There was water exploding upwards from the geyser, as well as all the rain. Everything—everything—was a possibility for Kanmi. So long as he had a starting point. And at the moment, he had that, and his fellow lictors were providing distractions for him. So he slipped out his own window and dropped down over the edge, briefly reducing the effect of gravity on his mass . . . probably the hardest skill he’d ever learned . . . and ran for the cover of a nearby tree. “All right, you lumbering antiquity,” he told the creature, quietly. “Let’s see what you can do.”
He held up a hand, palm out, and then twisted it around with a decisive snap, setting up the construct in his head. Sorcerers always started with words and gestures. At his level, the words or the gesture could be dropped, and he was looking forward to, eventually, being good enough to do without either . . . but that might take a very long time. The more powerful the effect you wanted to produce, the more assistance was needed, with words or gestures, batteries, circuits, and whatnot. This? This was a simple effect, relatively speaking. There was already heat in the metal of the pole as the creature swung it back to slam it once more at Sigrun. All he needed to do was increase the heat, and bend. There was already an incipient curve in the metal as it whipped around towards the Cimbric woman . . . Kanmi encouraged the flex and the heat. Hastened it. And wrapped what was now red-hot metal around the demon in a glowing red coil.
The creature had been stepping forward, and, caught by surprise, stumbled. Screamed in pain. Kanmi grinned and pulled all the heat out of the metal, leaving just enough to ensure it wouldn’t turn instantly brittle, and sent it, with a minor loss, directly into the creature’s tortoiseshell armor. It might resist cold iron and bullets fairly well, but let’s see if it burns, shall we?
___________________
Trennus, in the meantime, had realized that he needed to get the damned thing away from Sigrun, and Adam, who’d moved to stand over her, gun in hand. He moved west, out of cover, and looked around for somewhere to draw his binding circle. You have got to be kidding me. Stone, gravel, cobbles, more stone. And water everywhere. Can’t use chalk. Blood will wash away. What a wonderful location. I really don’t want this thing smudging a line and breaking free. He pointed down at the cobbled street, tugged on ley energies in the vicinity, and cut the stone with raw power, tracing the outer line of his circle, tying it at the end with a figure-eight knot, symbolizing infinity. The inner markings formed almost as quickly, but he was, deliberately, leaving the very center of the wide, twenty-foot diameter circle empty, for the moment. “Try to pull him my way,” Trennus said into the radio. “Esh?”
“You’re going to try to wrestle with this thing?” Adam’s voice cut in. “Matru, you might not have noticed, but it’s bigger than you are.”
“Size isn’t all that relevant in this.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Kanmi cut in.
“Can you turn it towards me?”
“Sorry. All I’ve got is damaging stuff to work with at the moment, not herding. Have your spirits lift their skirts. It’s an apotropaic gesture. Better yet, lift your own, Pict.”
“You’re so helpful.” Kanmi was, technically, correct. The reason why Livorus’ youngest son wore a fascinus was, in essence, to turn away bad spirits. Just as technically, when a statue of Aphroditus lifted her skirts to show her comingled genitals, it was an echo of rituals in which menstruating women had once gone out into the fields, lifting their skirts to, in theory, drive off evil spirits. The underlying concept was, more or less, that sexuality, fertility, generativity were powerful forces, even in human hands, and could be wielded against spirits. And when a woman bled, she was at the height of her spiritual power . . . or at least, was in tune with the forces of the waning moon, of darkness, and could, theoretically, tame malefic spirits, or turn them away. It was all very old magic, magic so old it wasn’t really magic any more . . . but Trennus was aware of it all, and aware, too, that in this part of the world, as with the nomadic tribes who called themselves Romany, when a woman bled, she was considered impure, and dangerous, that she wasn’t to touch or to be touched, until she was clean once more. What was powerful and useful in one region, was dangerous and to be avoided in another, and it generally meant that the cultural divide was sometimes a cultural cliff.
That was all at the back of Trennus’ mind, but none of it was any real use at the moment. He crouched in his binding circle, his hair wet and in tangles over his back, and whispered, “Lassair?”
Yes?
Get his attention, please.
That sounds like a very bad idea.
I’ve had better. Pull him here, into the circle.
Give me a moment. He’s . . . very angry at Stormborn.
___________________
Adam stared up at the advancing creature, leaned down, and grabbed Sigrun, sliding an arm under one armpit and hooking around so that his wrist locked under the other, hauling her back, while trying to still aim and fire, using her shoulder as a prop for the gun. Sigrun actually yelped and told him “Don’t pull me, don’t pull me!” White light poured out of her, making her unbearably bright to look at.
“Have to get you to cover—” Adam hauled on her, and pulled her into the side-yard of his parents’ house, where all the various vehicles of the motorcade had been parked, and, getting her behind one of them, rose up to fire again, just as the massive creature struggled, surged, and shattered the metal bonds that Kanmi had wrapped around it, and clawed the armor it wore off of its body. There was a horrible smell of burning flesh in the air, and it threw the armor aside, where it hit a tree . . . and the tree went up in flames, instantly.
For all of that, it was looking right at Adam at the moment, one eye missing, one hand missing, burns and scorch marks and bullet holes, and still, horribly, alive. No armor. Let’s see if your chest is any more vulnerable than your head. Adam raised his gun and went to full automatic on the rifle, continuous stream of fire, even as the creature picked up one of the cars at the foot of the drive. used it as a shield . . . and then it stepped forward, ponderously. Bowed, almost comically, tucking its head . . . and the stinger lashed out, slamming through the glass windows of the car, and Adam threw himself backwards, the barbed tip missing his heart by scant inches.
Kanmi, for his part, grimaced and looked at the geyser of water behind the creature. He could probably render it into hydrogen and oxygen, and there was m
ore than enough ambient heat for him to focus to light the hydrogen . . . but he wouldn’t be able to control or contain the explosion. It could hit ben Maor and Caetia, or level half the houses on the block. No good.
“Back it up, ben Maor,” he called into the radio. “Just keep firing. I’ll increase the force of the bullets’ impacts.”
“It’s got a car, Esh.”
“Yes, it does. I’ll take care of that.”
“You better.” Fear in ben Maor’s voice, and for a damned good reason.
Kanmi was close enough this time. Twenty feet, not over sixty. As the beast hurled the car directly at Adam and Sigrun, Kanmi caught it. Robbed it of all its inertia, making it drop to the ground, and redirected just the raw force back at the creature, concentrating it into a small square area of its body, like a punch. Kanmi slapped his own knuckles into his opposite palm, and watched in satisfaction as the blow snapped the creature’s mandibles.
___________________
Inside, Livorus told the person on the other end of the phone line, “Slow down. Spell it phonetically. Iota. Sigma. Tau.” He wrote each letter down on a scrap of foolscap, with great care.
___________________
Outside, Sigrun staggered back to her feet. Adam, seeing the damaged mandibles, gaping wide, had safed his rifle and let it dangle on its strap, reaching now, instead, for the grenades he’d been carrying. “Esh? Fire in the hole. Improve my aim?”
“I can only work with what I’m given, ben Maor. Throw.”
Adam pulled the pin and threw. He’d always had very good aim with these, and he ducked, spun, and pulled Sigrun back down with him, as he saw the grenade land in the gaping, screaming, broken maw. The explosive force made the car lurch into their spines, and sent shattered glass flying everywhere, cutting open the back of his neck. Adam cautiously turned to peer around the car once more.
The Valkyrie (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 1) Page 59