Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel

by C. D. Verhoff

  Heart pounding with excitement, chest heaving in anticipation, the chief lived for moments like this, when death hung in the air like an intoxicating perfume. Remembering the Wittelsbach Diamond, he licked his mucousy snout. His name would be on the tongues of Bulwarks for millennia. Songs would praise him as the chief who returned both pride and prosperity to Shaldoah after a drought of honorable deeds.

  With a downward sweep of his sledge hand, ten thousand Bulwark soldiers stormed the flimsy fence. The first to reach the fence bashed the wires with their metal hammers, but upon making contact, their bodies convulsed. Smoke poured from their eyes, their ears, and their mouths until their flesh turned into flame. And Bulwarks who’d rushed up to pull their fellow soldiers away themselves trembled and smoked until the air smelled like bacon.

  “Great thunder!” Chief Krom bellowed, backing a step away from the carnage for fear of catching the spreading affliction. “A plague of magic!”

  When the Regalans saw how the Bulwarks had tried to storm the city first in the hopes of getting the best plunder, instead of storming the fence, they sent a volley of arrows into the Bulwark army, turning them into pin cushions.

  The Hunterdons were so enraged by the Bulwarks’ greed, and the Regalans’ response, they tossed their spears at both Regalans and the Bulwarks. One pierced the head of Chief Krom’s second-in-command, his very own cousin who had been with Krom for ages. Great thunder, this was not how the chief had planned it.

  Dodging a flying spear, he realized he had played right into that Wakeland fella’s crafty hands.

  Damn.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  (Larsen Drey Steelsun)

  The members of the Red Squad plastered themselves against the knoll to watch the battle unfold. A dozen or so Commoner soldiers were running across the battlefield straight at them. Maybe they were deserters, maybe they had spotted them, but Lars knew with certainty the squad was in for a fight.

  “If thirteen men come over this hill,” Dante said. “Thirteen must die.”

  “Ladies, take care of the ones that slip past us men,” Dante said. “And no guns, Lindsey. The sound will draw attention to our position.”

  “Get ready,” Rolf warned. “Foes at eleven, twelve and one o’clock.”

  Most of them were Commoners around Lars’s own age, with fresh faces that startled at the unexpected sight of Lars, Dante and Rolf coming down the hill. About half of them ran back the way they came, the other half rushed ahead.

  A Hunterdon soldier jabbed at him with a spear. Lars did a half-backbend and the spear went harmlessly past his chin. Lars gripped the spear handle and yanked it out of the soldier’s hand. With a horizontal arc of the spear, he swept the soldier’s feet from beneath him. As he jumped over the soldier he’d just dropped, Lars speared him in the gut.

  The next soldier was a Bulwark swinging a spiked metal ball on a chain at Lars’s head. He ducked and raised the bloodied spear. The chain and ball wrapped around the spear. Not wasting a moment, Lars rammed the spear butt into the Bulwark’s closest knee. Even Lars winced when he saw the knee bend backwards. Out of habit, he looked up to see if Mr. Bayloo would break the stick. Not today. The decision of life and death had reverted into Lars’s hands.

  Twirling the hilt of his sword between his fingers, he raised the blade high and then plunged it into the Bulwark’s chest.

  “Josie,” he heard Dante cry out in the middle of his own sword battle, “Go help Lindsey!”

  Lars jerked his head around to see Dante in a wrestling match with a Bulwark, each fighting to impale the other. Lindsey was on the ground, rolling from side to side as a Deerma repeatedly tried to drive his antlers into her body.

  Josie pulled her sword out of the gut of a Bulwark. Leapt over a pile of dead soldiers to land behind the Deerma.

  “Hey, Rudolf!” she shouted, and pegged his snout with a front kick as he turned around. The Deerma stumbled back. After shaking off the pain, lowering his head, the Deerma charged. Josie leapt over him, doing a round-off in midair, to land facing his rear end, where she hamstrung the Deerma.

  “That’s my little spitfire,” he said admiringly.

  Now, there were only two left; Rolf worked on finishing off a third man in a Tectonian uniform, while Lars faced another Tectonian his own age, who was fast, but inexperienced. Killing was so second-nature to Lars now, he could easily overcome him without charisma or even a sword.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” the young man pleaded. “I just got married. We’re expecting a baby--I’m begging you.” Lars pulled his sword upright against his nose in a gesture that said you may pass.

  “Thank you, sir. Thank, you.” The young soldier’s eyes were moist with gratitude. Then he fled down the knoll. Rolf turned to see the young soldier coming toward him. Unable to pull his sword free from the Deerma in time, the soldier Lars had just released caught Rolf in the neck with his blade.

  The soldier gave a victorious yell, turned around to give Lars a sly grin, and continued to run. Rolf collapsed to one knee, then the other, hands going to the wound in a futile gesture while blood spurted between his fingers. Lars rushed to his side, but Rolf was quickly bleeding out.

  “We almost made it,” he said weakly, collapsing forward into Lars’s arms, face already turning gray. “Didn’t we?”

  “What do you mean almost?” Lars said, his voice breaking, pulling Rolf into his lap without concern for all the blood dripping on him. “We’re already on Galatian soil, Rolf. We’re home.”

  “Home.” Rolf grimaced when he tried to sit up. “The gates are opening up. I see a Christmas tree. My brothers and sisters that died in the bunker are gathered around. Everybody is so young.” He reached for some unseen thing in the distance. “Oh, my god, there’s a sword tied with a red bow in a corner. And my name is on it!” His voice was growing weaker, but a smile worked its way to his trembling lips. “Tell Lindsey she’s the only girl I ever loved. Even though she didn’t love me back, being with her made my life sweeter.”

  “No,” Rolf, Lars said, picking up Rolf and running with him toward the boulders. “When you’re better, you can tell her yourself.”

  Rolf’s body went limp in his arms. Lars saw an orb of light form in Rolf’s chest, slip out to hover at eye level as if Rolf’s soul had paused to say goodbye.

  “Oh, god,” Lars said, knowing his friend had died. “Oh, god.”

  Gently, he set the body on the ground.

  “Holy mother of mercy,” Dante shouted from several yards away, unaware of what had happened. “More soldiers coming this way!”

  Tearfully, Lars had to abandon Rolf to go help the others. Glancing to the battlefield, he was confused to see the armies of the Alliance attacking each other. The chaotic mob of infantry and cavalry, of Bulwarks, Commoners, Deermas, Regalans and God knew what else, had turned upon itself. Woe to anyone caught in the chaos. A Regalan archer who had managed to break away from the violent ball, suddenly locked his eyes onto Lars.

  “Galatians dead ahead!” the Regalan hollered.

  The crazy mob of killing froze and quieted as if remembering its original purpose. Suddenly reunited under the banner of a common enemy, the Alliance armies let out a renewed collective battle cry against the four hapless Galatians. The strength drained out of Lars’s legs as any chance of survival slipped away. No amount of charisma could help them outrun horses. Or fight so many foes.

  Dante, Lindsey, Lars and Josie stood back-to-back, ready to fight the death.

  “I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who almost became a hero,” Josie said. “I have the map. We’re so damn close! This is so unfair.”

  “St. Michael, the archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil,” Lindsey prayed, her voice shaking, but her hands remained steady as she aimed her gun. “May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl
about the world seeking the ruin of souls.”

  Suddenly, the ground began to shake a second time. But this time it was accompanied by the horrific sound of cracking rock, a groaning of the Earth.

  It looked as if a huge earthen snake rose from the ground, three to four stories high in places, writhing through the battlefield, tipping soldiers down its sides as it advanced. Wider than a two-lane highway at the bottom, thinner than a sidewalk at the top, composed of mud and rocks, it was coming straight toward the squad. Lindsey screamed shrilly. Lars tensed, scrunched his eyes, and braced for the inevitable impact.

  And it stopped. So did the horrendous sound of breaking earth. Lars opened one eye. A familiar voice carried over the hillside.

  “Ahoy, down there!” someone said in English.

  A big bald head peeked over the edge of the formation. A rope came down the side of the earthen snake.

  “Welcome home, son.”

  “D-Dad?”

  “It’s Dr. Steeslun!” Lindsey cried.

  Up close, Lars saw that it wasn’t a snake at all, but an earthen ridge similar to the wall surrounding Galatia. It was barely climbable, but right now the enemy soldiers were too freaked out to do anything except gawk.

  “C’mon,” Dante was motioning for Lindsey and Josie to hurry up. They were still staring, slack-jawed, at the top of the earthen bridge. “Ladies first.”

  Lindsey took the rope, but her climb was slow going.

  “You climb like a girl,” Josie razzed her from the bottom of the rope.

  “I am a girl!”

  “Use the charisma and get your butt up there!”

  When Dante offered Josie the rope, she complained, “I’m a better fighter than you. This is no time for chivalry.”

  “You’re wrong. Chivalry was made for moments like these,” Dante said. “I will not abandon ship until all the women and children are onboard.”

  Not wanting to waste time arguing with her stubborn brother-in-law, Josie grabbed hold of the rope and scampered up it like a little monkey. When she was halfway up, Lars began to climb up behind her.

  “Rolf!” Dante was still at the bottom of the ladder, yelling for their missing companion.

  Lars glanced over at a dark lump on the battlefield. His throat tightened at having to deliver the bad news.

  “Rolf didn’t make it,” Lars called down.

  He could see Dante’s head bow. It stayed down a long moment before he took a deep breath and started up the rope.

  When Lars got to the top, his father embraced him and then held up at arm’s length.

  “Great Caesar’s ghost, what have you been eating, you’re huge!” his father cried, looking at his son’s gladiator garb and well-muscled body. Then he glanced at Josie. Her cloak was half open, revealing her skimpy golden armor and toned form. His father’s eyebrows raised in question.

  “It’s a long story,” Lars explained.

  He glanced uneasily at Barrett, in handcuffs. After learning what he had done to Mayor Wakeland, to the entire city, Lars couldn’t help but send him a glare of contempt. That’s when Lars noticed the glass sword hanging at his father’s side. The silver hilt gleamed in the rising sun. Several of the men and women were carrying similar weapons.

  “Your swords!” he heard Josie exclaim. “They’re just like the ones from my dream! The ones forged by the Angel of Galatia! How did you get them?”

  “Another very long story,” his father said.

  “Why do you have two of them, Michael?” Josie inquired.

  “One is Barrett’s.”

  “Oh.”

  Barrett glanced nervously over the ridge at the ground forty feet below. “Uh, the allied troops are regrouping, and this bridge could collapse any second; it’s not as strong as the wall.”

  “Then I’ll get straight to business,” Lars’s father spoke rapidly. “Who has the map?”

  “I do,” Josie said, eagerly fumbling for it in her cloak. Her hands were shaking so hard that she could barely grasp it. The men and women who had just come from the city exchanged hopeful glances. Lars felt the mood go from doom to hope in one beat of the heart, but there was no time for celebrating.

  “Hold on to it until we’re inside the city,” his father commanded. With a wave of his hand, he led the group over the bridge back toward the city. A couple of men fell in behind his father, with Lars in step behind them. A few more men and women sandwiched Barrett. Next came Josie, followed by Lindsey, then Michael, four more Galatians, while Dante took the rear position.

  The bridge wasn’t entirely flat, it rambled up and down, and was as wide as five feet in some places, six inches elsewhere. The trick was not to look down the steep sides where soldiers were clamoring to kill them.

  “How did you know we were out here?” Dante asked breathlessly.

  “I ran into Elizabeth’s spirit during a Mind Wander. Imagine my surprise when she informed me that she had just spoken with my long-lost son.”

  They were about a hundred yards from the wire fence, with the bulk of the city buildings looming large up ahead, when the smell of roasting ham and singed hair reached his nostrils. He spotted Bulwark bodies stacked up against the a wire fence. By the stack of charred and smoldering bodies, Lars assumed it was electrified.

  “Pee-yoo!” he heard Josie yell from behind. “That’s disgusting!”

  “Smells like bacon,” Lindsey commented. “Which reminds me how we skipped breakfast.”

  The enemy reorganized their efforts, ropes were brought out, and soldiers were throwing grappling hooks at the wall, and were beginning to swarm up the side. Lindsey shot at the soldiers as they approached the ridge.

  Meanwhile, at the front the allied troops continued to pile up behind the fence, pushing and crushing each other, while the electrical current continued to buzz. The fence finally gave way with a loud snap. The current was broken. The Bulwark troops surged forward. Their renewed battle cry, like thousands of bears growling simultaneously, was intimidating enough to make Lars’s knees weaken.

  One of the Galatian woman running along with them lost her balance and fell. It happened so fast, and the bridge was so narrow, nobody was in position to help her. With a scream, she fell into the army below. Soldiers descended on her like a pack of hyenas. Lars didn’t see the spear flying over the land bridge until the tip of one embedded itself deep into Lindsey’s thigh. She stumbled, grunting in pain, and would also have toppled over the side if Josie hadn’t grabbed hold of her wrist, Dante wrapping a thick arm around Josie’s waist in turn.

  Lindsey holstered her gun and tried to pull the spear out of her leg, but Lars’s dad screamed at her. “Don’t do that!” Her hand jerked away—the spear was the only thing plugging the wound. Pull it out now, and she could bleed to death in moments.

  Dante snapped off most of the spear, leaving the rest in her leg, while Michael scooped Lindsey up into his arms. When they reached the wall, they saw it had already begun to crumble.

  “Why don’t you make a new wall?” Josie cried out.

  “I can’t,” Barrett said with a heavy voice that reached out to Lars and threatened to pull him under in a deluge of failure. “In order to build the bridge so rapidly, I opened the mystical portal to the charisma as wide as it would go. I’m all torn up inside. Broken apart. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, my brother,” Michael said. “You did well.”

  “If you think this is going to make up for what he did, Barrett…” Lars’s father began to say.

  “Arrows, twelve o’clock!” Josie yelled from the back of the line.

  Lars flattened himself as a volley of arrows swept over the ridge. He glanced back to see how Michael had managed with Lindsey in his arms. The man was down on one knee, but left vulnerable. Josie used her body as a shield to protect both, making Lars grimace. Fate favored the brave, in this instance. Every arrow missed Josie, but a Galatian man was turned into a porcupine. He fell off of the ridge and was instantly swept upon by a fury
of soldiers below.

  “Hurry!” his father bellowed. They were off again with spears and arrows flying over them, whizzing past them, with too many close calls to count.

  Barrett had left an arch of open space in the land bridge, keeping the fence intact. They passed over the junction between the bridge and the earthen wall surrounding the city. A mud ramp met them on the inside of the city. Galatian soldiers reached up to help them climb down. Seeing so many familiar faces was an overwhelming, but welcome sight.

  Josie must have ditched her cloak as they ran along the ridge, because now she was only wearing her skimpy armor. Lars’s own cloak was fluttering behind him, leaving his scantily clad body exposed. Everyone was gawking. A flurry of conversation broke out. Some people were snickering. At Josie? At him? He couldn’t be sure.

  “Look, the prodigal slut and her man-whore have returned!” Ryan Penn quipped. Michael was too busy helping Lindsey to hear his son’s rude comment.

  “They look like gladiators from a cheesy B-movie,” another soldier replied.

  A ripple of laughter passed through the vicinity, causing Lars’s feelings of inadequacy to come rushing back at him.

  But not Josie.

  “If you only knew what we have been through for you assholes, you wouldn’t be laughing!” Josie screamed, nostrils flaring, tears brimming in her eyes. “If you don’t shut up, and show a little respect, I’ll kick your asses into the next kingdom!”

  Dante pulled her back and shook his head at Josie, warning her with a frown to knock it off.

  “After all the sacrifices we’ve made,” she complained bitterly to Dante. “I can’t believe the way they’re acting.”

  Lars could empathize with her words because he felt exactly the same way.

  “Shhh,” Dante said, pulling her into a hug. “Look around you: most of the Galatians here aren’t laughing—just a few of the usual idiots—and who cares what they think? When they learn what you’ve done, they will be ashamed of themselves. Just let it go.”

  “Stretcher!” Lars’s father yelled.