The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  Instead, she kept leading the tired horse up the mountain road.

  I really am an idiot.

  An hour later, she heard soft gurgling in the pine trees on her right—another stream. Her canteen was nearly empty now. The pine trees were thick here, with gullies and tall brush blocking her view. She stared at the woods, wondering if there were bears. Going off the road was foolish, but if she ignored the stream, she’d run out of water long before reaching the summit. Water was life in the wilderness, and there was no way of knowing when—or if—she'd find more. Besides, it wasn't as if she were going to get lost. There was only one road, and all she had to do was move downhill to find it.

  She climbed down from Cobble, adjusted her scabbard, and checked the action on her assault rifle, making sure a round was chambered and the weapon was on safety. "Come on, old girl," she said as she led the mare off the road and into the trees. Cobble whinnied, either offering encouragement or calling her an idiot, but either way, she came along.

  As soon as she was into the trees and out of the sun, the temperature became slightly more tolerable. It was still bitterly hot, but at least she wasn't going to melt. She found the stream several hundred meters into the trees, farther than she would have thought, but sound carried in the wilderness, and the stream, considerably bigger than she had expected, cascaded down a waterfall from a hundred meters up, slamming into the rocks and spilling into a mountain pool before gurgling on its path down the mountain.

  She led Cobble to the thick green brush growing along the banks of the pool and let the horse drink. She dropped to her knees, cupped her hands in the chilly water, and drank big mouthfuls, feeling almost immediately energized. She had been thirstier than she realized. Looking for the water had been the right choice after all. She dunked her head in the water, pulling it out with a gasp as the chilly wetness soaked her shirt. She refilled her canteen and then ate another of the oat bars, which had somehow become even harder, and washed it down with as much water as she could drink without throwing up.

  Where were the chupacabras now? Had they already caught Tavi, or were they even now slinking toward Angie? She closed her eyes and cast out her life-sense, detecting and then discarding the wildlife, birds, insects, frogs, and squirrels. Other than Cobble, who practically glowed, she didn't sense anything large enough to be a threat. But when she cast her life-sense out a bit farther, to the limits of her ability, she detected a single human-sized life force, a person walking toward her, no more than two hundred meters away.

  Her eyes flashed open, and she snatched at her rifle, thumbing the safety catch to repetition. She stood, rifle on her shoulder, looking over the barrel as she scanned the trees. She saw nothing, but her finger caressed the trigger, her nerves taut. What if it's Tavi? The thought gave her pause, and she removed her finger from the trigger, placing it along the trigger guard instead.

  "It's me," Erin called.

  Angie sighed in relief, her too-tense muscles loosening, and she exhaled, lowering the barrel. Erin stepped out of the trees, much closer than Angie had expected.

  "God dammit, Erin. I almost shot you." But what she was thinking was thank you, God. She rushed forward, embracing Erin.

  After a tight hug, Erin drew back, considering Angie. The other woman carried the scoped Winchester slung on her back, her long red curls hidden beneath a bush hat. She smiled warmly at Angie. "How's the water?"

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Saving you from getting yourself killed." Erin moved past Angie to the pool and splashed water onto her face.

  "On foot?"

  Erin shrugged, arching her back in a catlike stretch. "We left Claudette in a clearing so the Norties would find her. I told Rowan I was worried and wanted to sneak back and make sure they had found her, which was true enough, but after I did—she's safe, by the way—I slipped off to the east to follow you. Sorry it took me so long."

  "You shouldn't have come."

  Erin frowned at her but looked up toward the mountain's summit. "Couple more hours before we get there, I'd guess."

  "Rowan is going to be pissed. They'll come after you."

  Erin snorted. "Rowan is always pissed. And of course they'll come, just as soon as they realize where I've gone. They were already beating themselves up over letting you go off on your own, especially Jay. They'd have come after you eventually anyhow. I just helped them make up their minds." She smiled, shaking her head. "Boys."

  Warmth filled Angie's heart, and she looked away before she started crying. When her emotions were under control, she took Cobble's reins. "Do you want to ride for a bit?"

  Erin shook her head, adjusting her rifle's strap. "I'm good."

  They began to walk back in the direction of the road, but after fewer than a dozen steps, Erin froze, her posture stiff. Her eyes narrowed as she sniffed the air.

  "What is it?" Angie asked. When Erin didn't answer right away, she closed her eyes and cast out her life-sense again, but there were only small animals about, nothing larger within her range of about two hundred meters.

  "Norties," Erin whispered. "Moving up the road on horseback. You can't hear them?"

  Angie shook her head. "How many?"

  "Least a platoon, but are they after us or following Tavi?"

  "Assume the worst. What do we do?"

  Erin stood in place for a moment, biting her lip, her face thoughtful as she swept her eyes over the trees and rough mountain terrain. "If we make for the road, they'll see us. Let's try moving a bit farther in and then hiding. If they're on their way to help Tavi, then they're doing our job for us. If not, maybe they'll go right past, and we head back and find the boys. We can't help Tavi if we're dead."

  Angie didn't argue. Erin's logic was sound, much sounder than the idea of a lone woman saving Tavi from a pack of chupacabras. Angie's eyes darted to Cobble. "Can we hide her?"

  "Not a chance," Erin said and then began to unstrap Cobble's saddle, bridle, reins, and saddlebags. She handed one bag to Angie and threw the other over her shoulder. The saddle and harness she hid behind bushes. "Don't worry. She'll make her way somewhere safe." Erin patted Cobble's neck, whispering into the horse's ear. Cobble whinnied, tossing her head, but the mare remained rooted in place as if she didn't want to go. Erin slapped her rump forcefully. "Go on, girl," she commanded.

  Cobble snorted but then trotted away, only once glancing back at the women.

  "Let's go," Erin said.

  The two women moved up the mountain.

  Chapter 27

  Shane stopped his horse in the middle of the asphalt mountain road. The rest of the patrol, twenty-five rangers, moved down both sides of the road, passing him. He stretched his arms over his head, groaning loudly.

  "You okay, sir?" the platoon's commander, a lance corporal named Rawkins, asked from just ahead, where he sat his own mount. He was a tall, ruddy man with thick fingers, a big red nose, and a head full of curly blond hair. He didn't have the look of a ranger—with that ridiculous hair and nose, he resembled a clown—but he did seem to command the respect of his men.

  "I'm fine, Lance Corporal, just need to head into the woods and take care of personal business." Shane climbed down from his mount and rummaged in his saddlebags, pulling out the small cloth sack that contained the Bracer of Matriarch Hel-Ka. He stuffed the sack under his arm and pulled out a roll of toilet paper he had paid far too much for in Canyon City’s market.

  "Yes, sir," Rawkins said. "I'll send a couple of men to watch your back."

  "Not necessary, Lance Corporal. I can have a bowel movement all on my own."

  "But sir—"

  "Not fucking necessary," he stressed each word, glaring at the other man, who quickly looked away.

  Shane only went about twenty meters into the woods before he dropped down on one knee, glancing about to make sure he was alone, and pulled out the bronze talisman. He placed it on his left arm, sighing with satisfaction at the occult power that coursed through his body, and closed his eye
s, contacting the chupacabra pack leader. He sent the beast a mental image of the ranger patrol moving up the mountain road, particularly picturing the ruddy face of a man with a big red nose and curly blond hair.

  The beast railed against his commands but submitted. It didn't like the coercion—in fact, the coercion drove the pack leader insane with anger, as it did the others—but they were beasts and could do nothing but obey. When he told them to kill, they'd kill.

  Shane remained in hiding, waiting for the screams.

  Just before two p.m., Angie halted and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Erin, seeing she had stopped, waited for her. They moved parallel to the mountain road but kept to the woods. Despite the distance they had travelled, the summit seemed as far away as ever.

  Angie sighed and prepared herself to keep going, and then she saw Erin’s posture stiffen in alarm and her nostrils flare as she sniffed the air. "What is it?"

  "Come on." Erin gripped Angie's arm and pulled her along at a run, heading for a gully ahead of them.

  The gully, eight feet deep at least, was filled with broken pine branches, fallen trees, and a foot-deep carpet of brown pine needles and other detritus that must have been blown in by a storm. Erin tossed her saddlebag and then Angie's into the bottom of the gully and then climbed in, dragging Angie down with her. Erin pushed aside branches and needles, making a space beneath a fallen pine tree's thick branches for them and the saddlebags. Angie slid beneath the pine branches first, with Erin crawling in after her and pulling the branches over them, showering them with needles. The space stank of rotten vegetation and maybe dead animals. Erin cradled her Winchester against her chest. They remained like that, neither moving for long minutes, then Erin placed her palm atop Angie's mouth, leaving only her nostrils exposed.

  Angie’s blood ran cold when, through the pine branches, she saw the horned head of a chupacabra come over the edge of the gully above. The monster, its small black eyes shining, lifted its muzzle and sniffed the air. Saliva dripped from its oversized two front canines. It stood in place, staring straight ahead, but all it had to do was look down. It couldn’t miss them.

  Instead, it snarled and leaped across the gully. She heard it run away through the brush, but her relief was short-lived as more chupacabras appeared, each leaping over them and moving on. Dozens followed, the entire pack. Her heart pounded with fear. Then the last of the monsters flashed over the gully and ran away.

  Silence settled over the woods once more.

  And then they heard gunshots, followed by men screaming and the bestial cries of the chupacabras. The pack was attacking the Nortenos.

  Erin hustled her out of the hiding spot, pushing her up the side of the gully. "Leave the bags," she whispered when Angie tried to pick hers up.

  The tempo of the gunshots increased, as did the screaming of the men. "What do you want to do?" Angie asked, hearing the panic in her own voice.

  "Run."

  They sped through the woods, pursued by the sounds of battle. There were fewer gunshots now, but Angie didn’t know if that was a good thing. Then she ran right into Erin's back before realizing the other woman had stopped.

  Standing before them were three chupacabras, their small dark eyes bristling with rage, the spikes along their spines standing straight like a dog's hackles.

  The beasts growled.

  Chapter 28

  Before Angie could move, all three chupacabras launched themselves forward with stunning speed. Yet Erin moved faster, firing her Winchester from the hip and shattering the head of the lead beast with a heavy magnum bullet. As the beast’s carcass slammed into the ground, Angie realized they could die.

  The loud gunshot gave the other two beasts just enough pause for Angie to react. She brought her assault rifle up to her shoulder and squeezed the trigger in a long, desperate burst at the closest beast just before it reached her. In comparison to the Winchester’s .357 bullet, her assault rifle fired a much smaller 5.56mm round, and although she hit it with several shots, they didn’t even slow the monster. Once again, the Other saved her life, creating a shield faster than thought. The wounded chupacabra slammed against the translucent glowing barrier with bone-jarring force and then rebounded in an explosion of sparks, stunned but angry.

  She fired again, another long burst from near-point-blank range, but only the first few rounds hit before her rifle barrel climbed with the recoil, sending the rest of her bullets into the trees. She winced when the rifle’s breech slammed open on an empty magazine. Angie, you idiot! Never fire on full auto.

  The chupacabra launched itself at her once more and once more rebounded from another, albeit weaker, shield.

  She heard the snarls behind her and glimpsed Erin and the third chupacabra wrestling on the ground with the chupacabra on top. Erin had jammed the forestock of her Winchester between the beast’s slavering jaws to keep it from her throat. She couldn’t help her friend.

  Angie dropped her empty rifle and drew Nightfall. The chupacabra launched itself at her once more, but this time she cast Shutter, transporting herself to a spot just behind it. The beast froze in confusion, its head darting about, and Angie lunged forward, aiming for the base of its heavily muscled neck behind the shoulder blades. Her thrust, honed by hours of late-night practice, was perfect, and her blade buried itself deep in the chupacabra's skull. The beast fell forward, its powerful legs splayed on either side, and Angie wrenched her side-sword free. If she had had time, she might have marveled at the impossibility of killing such a beast with a dueling weapon.

  She spun to help Erin just as the other woman bucked her hips and threw the chupacabra, a beast that must have weighted two hundred or more pounds, against the trunk of a nearby pine tree. The chupacabra hit the pine tree with enough force to send the needles showering down. Erin jumped to her feet and worked the bolt on her rifle, but the chupacabra was already lunging forward again. Before it could move, Angie hit it with Shockwave, bowling the beast over. But this time, her spell had been far less powerful than she had expected, and the chupacabra was still alive, trying to rise once more. I’m running out of mana, she realized. For once, she wanted the Other to do its thing, to steal the life force from one of these things.

  Do I risk trying to touch it? Would the Other know to take its life?

  Before she could decide, Erin stepped up and shot it in the head, painting the ground with its brains. "Not so goddamned tough after all, are you?"

  Angie's breath heaved as she recovered her assault rifle, reloaded it, and scanned the woods for more threats. Nothing moved. "We need to go," she told Erin breathlessly.

  Erin nodded, glancing in worry behind them, and they began to run again.

  With his hexed saber in hand, Shane stepped out of the woods and onto the mountain road. Twenty-four bodies and a dozen dead horses lay in pools of quickly spreading blood. The other horses had fled and likely wouldn't stop until they reached the Pacific Ocean. A single survivor, Lance Corporal Rawkins, crawled toward Shane, holding his guts in with one hand. The chupacabra pack skulked about nearby, glaring hatefully at Shane. Six of the wolflike monsters were dead, more than Shane had expected, especially after their one-sided slaughter of the Norteno soldiers at Fort Eagle Pride. But here, the soldiers had sunlight by which to see and shoot, and they had been ready for battle, not half-asleep. From hiding, Shane had watched Rawkins organize a surprisingly robust defense, killing the first two chupacabras before they could reach his men. It had been an impressive if doomed effort.

  Rawkins, seeing Shane, raised a bloody hand to him, his lips moving as he pleaded for help. Shane approached the mortally injured man, feeling a bit guilty for having considered the man clown-like earlier. Just goes to show you, you can't judge a book by its cover, he mused, and then buried his saber in the man’s curly blond skull. "Nothing personal," he said as he worked his blade free.

  The pack edged closer, growling. "Ah, ah, ah," Shane said, lifting his left arm into the air. The bronze Bracer of Matriarch Hel
-Ka glistened in the sun, the precious gems catching the light. "Don't be bad little doggies."

  The pack drew back, but the leader, a large brute with a four-inch scar running through where its left eye use to be, remained in place. The chupacabra snarled but submitted, lowering itself on its belly before Shane.

  "That's better." Shane looked about and sighed as he realized his own horse had fled as well. He’d have to walk from here. On the other hand, with all the witnesses dead, he could do whatever he wanted with Tavi. Norteno moralities could be tiresome.

  The dead chupacabras would be a problem. Mother Smoke Heart had insisted there be no carcasses left behind, telling Shane that fear of the unknown would terrify the Nortenos more than a pack of wolflike beasts. He bit his upper lip as he considered what to do. What he should do was order the pack to tear their own dead apart and hide the pieces, just as they had done after attacking the settlement. But that would take time, and he didn’t want to give Tavi a chance to slip away. He knew where she was, having seen an image of her through the pack leader’s good eye when he had last used the bracer. No, he decided. Best to catch the prize first and then come back later to dispose of the carcasses.

  His head snapped about at the crack of a rifle shot echoing through the trees further up the mountain. There was someone else here, he realized. Moments later, he heard another gunshot.

  "Go," he commanded the one-eyed pack leader. When the beast glared at him, he sighed and sent his thoughts through the bracer, once more forcing his will upon the beast.

  With an angry snarl, the one-eyed brute turned and led his pack through the woods. Shane followed, curious now as to whom he shared the mountain with—and who else he was going to have to kill.

  Minutes later, breathing heavily from walking through the woods, Shane found the pack gathered about the corpses of three more chupacabras. He stared in confusion. Two of the animals had been shot in the head with a high-powered weapon, their skulls shattered, but the third had barely been touched; only a small, inch-wide exit wound in the base of its ugly skull leaked a dribble of blood. He drew his saber and touched its point to the wound, seeing it slip in easily. That was caused by a sword thrust, he realized. But who—