Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2)

by Brian S. Leon

  I went down into the galley and dug out a few more candy bars, an apple, an energy drink, and a box of crackers. When I approached the helm, Duma and Gheorghe stared at me and my armful of food.

  “What? I haven’t eaten much in the last few days. Besides, it’s all you got.”

  I sat down against the port gunnel and started eating, and Duma joined me, trying to fold up a map so that he could hold it against the wind.

  “Gheorghe says we’re about here.” He pointed to a spot on the Danube. “And unless the Hanner Brid has a faster boat, his likely route over land would be the DN57 north to the 115 west to the 24 south and then over to Ŝalinac.” He traced the route with his finger.

  The overland route was easily several hundred miles long over rural highways, but if he was driving one of Duma’s type of cars, he might be able to make it almost as fast as we could by river. Still, the boat was our only real option. Duma grimaced when he used his left arm to put away the map then reach for my crackers.

  “Getting shot hurts, don’t it?” I asked, yielding the package of crackers.

  “Yeah, but not that bad. I don’t know what kind of gun that was, but it barely made a noise, and it startled me more than hurt.”

  “The guy’s got to be in pain, as well,” I said. “I hit him square in the back with one of his .338 rounds from a few hundred yards out. He had to be wearing some serious body armor, but at that range and with a round that big, I must have broken some of his ribs at the least. I mean, assuming he has ribs.”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think he was wearing heavy body armor, D. I can tell you for sure the bullet didn’t pass through him. All I know is that when he jerked, I jumped. Apparently, not fast enough.”

  I laughed. “Fast enough that he didn’t shoot you in the head.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “How the hell did he get Pheebs?” I asked.

  “It all happened pretty fast. I was on his ass, less than ten yards back and gaining, when I see Belphoebe and her Dreaich charging directly at him and me from across the field. I slowed, but that nutcase kept going, full tilt. The archers stopped to ready arrows, but the other three Dreaich and Belphoebe kept charging toward me until the wacko screamed halt in a voice that vibrated my entire skull and made me want to stop, too. I almost did. Belphoebe and her guards did stop—dead in their tracks. He hit her like a runaway freight train, she went limp, and he grabbed her. That’s when the Dreaich snapped back to attention and I closed in.”

  “Why would taking her hostage stop you from attacking?” I asked, trying to picture the scene.

  “I’m not sure…” He shook his head. “I had that same weird feeling like back in Sirte and Seville, only not as intense this time. Once I got close to him, I could hear him tell the Dreaich to keep their distance, and I believed he meant me, too. When he told us to drop our weapons, for some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It didn’t make sense even though he asked me to. I can’t explain the feeling—the confusion. Dunno. All I knew was that if I dropped my knives, he’d have me at a major disadvantage. His suggestion rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn’t have cared less about Belphoebe.”

  “So, wait, those weren’t Dreaichbard, then?” I asked.

  “Ah, heck no. Just Dreaich.” Laughing, he held up his hand dismissively. “You think they’d send the royal elite guard after a human? Even a Guardian? Ha! The Courts don’t see you guys as that big of a threat.”

  “Well, I assumed…”

  “Sorry, D, you only rate Dreaich. They wouldn’t send the Bard out unless it was all-out war with the Seelie Court itself or Mab showed up personally. Those guys were good, but they’re cannon fodder by comparison.”

  “I guess that makes sense, because they didn’t seem that tough to me,” I said, actually a little insulted and disappointed.

  “Oh, they’re capable.” Duma smiled wickedly then elbowed me in my injured shoulder. “It’s just that we’re much better.”

  I laughed and cringed at the same time. “Any chance you can try to track him?” I asked, knowing the answer.

  Duma appeared as fatigued as I’ve ever seen him. “Blood’s going to be way too degraded. I might end up forcing an inaccurate reading. It’s not worth it.”

  I leaned back against the gunnel. “No worries. We are going to get this guy.”

  Staring out over the cold, muddy water, I contemplated my situation and Belphoebe. I didn’t like what we had to do, and I knew Duma was going to like it even less. I jerked my head back against the bulkhead in frustration then sighed.

  “You know, as much as I’d like to kill her myself, we have to try to get Pheebs back alive if at all possible,” I said. “It would go a long way to helping me make amends once we catch this guy.”

  Duma glanced up into the air for a second, probably daydreaming about strangling her, then he rolled his head toward me. “Hey, if anyone can do this, it’s us. Remember… we’re that good.” He slapped my injured shoulder again with the back of his hand.

  “There is that,” I replied, trying to force a smile past the wince.

  When we pulled up to the spot where we planned to catch the boat at the mouth of the Great Morava River, I grabbed a Hungarian-made AMD-65 assault rifle and a couple spare magazines from Gheorghe’s stores below deck and jumped out. Since it was still daylight, I began examining the marshy ground along the riverbank for footprints when Duma landed right where I was looking. I glared at him and briefly considered breaking his knee as he walked off smugly.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t mess up any tracks. I don’t leave footprints,” he said over his shoulder. “By the way, I doubt he does, either.”

  Just great.

  We jogged quickly along the river’s edge, taking advantage of the forest for cover in the midday sun. Once we got back to the portal through the Telluric Pathways, Duma circled the spot for several minutes, staring into the area, with his forehead deeply furrowed and his eyes narrowed to slits. I could see the portal’s energy signature, but to me, it was nothing more than something resembling heat waves rising off pavement.

  After a few minutes, he said, “I’m pretty sure no one’s been through here since us.”

  I took his statement to mean we’d beat the Hanner Brid to the portal.

  “The likely overland route is to approach from there.” I pointed toward the road across the river from us. “But he’s got to know we’re after him. So if he thinks he beat us here, he might come as directly as he can. But… if it were me, I’d pass that area and swim it from the Danube because it would be more unexpected.”

  Duma shook his head. “But if he still has Belphoebe, he wouldn’t swim it dragging a hostage.”

  “Still, you watch the approach from the road across the river from those trees.” I nodded to the forest on the west side of the clearing. “I’ll keep an eye on the water from over here,” I said, hooking my thumb to the opposite end of the glade. “We need to get him between us if we can. And remember—”

  He held up his hands. “I know, I know: try to save Belphoebe if we can.”

  “I don’t care how we take him,” I replied.

  The sun was high overhead, working its way westward in a cloudless sky. Tactically, if I were trying to escape, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the clearing while people were chasing me unless I had no other choice. This portal through the Ways was the most expedient and obvious of the Hanner Brid’s few options.

  Unfortunately, for my part, all the places to lay an ambush from were obvious, as well. Ideally, I would have taken up a position in the river a little farther upstream, within the cover of overhanging trees. In the cold water, I would need a dry suit or at least a heavy wet suit. Without those, I chose to reinforce a dense stand of brush at the edge of the clearing to create a blind for mys
elf. I quickly cut branches from trees well into the forest and dragged them back, covering my tracks. Satisfied with my camouflage, I took up position and waited, expecting him to show any time. Duma hid somewhere in the trees across the clearing from me.

  Our plan was simple: When the Half Breed showed up, we would pin him. I would step in from the rear and keep him from retreating across the river, while Duma would cover him from the front and prevent him from going through the Ways. With luck, we’d get Belphoebe back and kill the bastard. Even if he stayed halfway between Duma and me in this small clearing, I had little doubt about being able to expose his brains to the light of day with the AMD-65. While I didn’t mention it to Duma, I also figured if the Hanner Brid tried to control him again, the cambion bastard would have to risk turning away from me to do so.

  Call that Plan A. While I sat in my blind, I worked on Plans B through Q. I tried to run every possible variation of what could happen through my mind—everything from him not showing to him showing up with a small army. Failing to plan is planning to fail.

  If everything went sideways, my escape route was the river. I didn’t know what Duma would do, but he and I had been through so many similar situations that I knew he had his escape route figured as well. We would meet back up when it was safe.

  We waited for several hours. The sun had almost set, and as part of me started to worry we had guessed wrong about his exit strategy, an indistinct engine noise carried through the evening air from across the river. I focused all my attention on listening rather than trying to see in the fading light. After several more minutes, something that sounded like an abruptly ended muffled scream broke the silence. It was hard to tell for sure, but it sounded as though it had come from the other side of the river. I had to force myself to be patient and not jump the gun. The guy was too slippery.

  I carefully pulled the clunky AMD-65 up to a seated firing position then scanned the water’s edge, watching for movement rather than a specific shape, and listened. After a painful few minutes of watching into the final glow of the setting sun combined with the reflections off the water and low light levels around the river, I had to blink hard a few times to verify I did actually see a series of small ripples hit the bank in front of me. Then came the corroborating soft sounds of the water lapping against the bank.

  The ripples continued but struck me as being too small to be caused by something roughly as large as I was, not to mention something large carrying something else sizable. I knew the fae rarely left a mark on any surface they traversed, but I found it hard to believe even a fae could defy the physics of fluid dynamics. If this sonofabitch walks on water, I give up here and now.

  I slowly flexed my legs to make sure the muscles were ready for action. I was stretching my left leg when a distinct splashing sound came from the river, like an alligator sliding in from a bank. Then a series of larger ripples grew into small waves as they hit the bank near my position. It was exactly the type of disturbance I expected, and I seriously doubted there were any alligators on the Danube.

  I slowly shifted from a seated position to kneeling, still supporting the submachine gun by resting my right elbow on my thigh as I watched the flattest part of the shoreline. A soft grunt was followed by another splash, and it dawned on me that normally, that would be the ideal time to spring the ambush. This guy is neck deep in the water, maybe carrying a listless body—how much more helpless could he be?

  Of course, I still couldn’t see him to verify if it even was him. For all I knew, it was a cow taking an evening swim. That was unlikely but possible, and I couldn’t afford to take the chance. I needed as clean a shot as I could get.

  After another half minute that felt more like an eternity, I finally began to make out a dark mass in the water. The silhouette increased in size as it approached the bank, and the form began to take shape. Unless the Hanner Brid had a big hump and more appendages than an octopus, he was still carrying Pheebs across his shoulders.

  Once he emerged from the river, he dropped into a kneeling position only a few yards from me. Belphoebe’s limp form blocked any shot I had at his head. I’d already shot the prick in the back with a massive round, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Plus, I couldn’t risk accidentally hitting Pheebs. I had to keep telling myself I couldn’t, hoping that eventually I’d believe it.

  He got back to his feet after a moment and took a few tentative steps closer to the gate. He took a few more cautious steps then started to trot. That was my cue.

  I got to my feet and pushed through the blind, moving carefully and purposefully, keeping him in my sights. Both eyes wide open, I pressed the gun’s stock tight to my shoulder while my cheek rested along it. My only shot at his head from this vantage point was through Pheebs, so I couldn’t take it yet. Duma emerged from the trees along the other side of the clearing off to my right, giving me a clear zone of fire in front of me the moment he dropped her.

  “Freeze, dickless,” I said, almost shouting.

  He stopped but not in such a way that let me think we’d actually surprised him. Duma continued to close the distance between them, and I could see the moonlight glinting off his knives as he swung them around. I approached to within thirty feet then stopped. Duma did the same.

  “Let Belphoebe go, now,” I said.

  “Or what, Diomedes?”

  “Or… I promise you I will leave you alive,” I replied.

  He let out a snort that sounded more as if he’d choked.

  “You won’t like it, but you’ll be alive,” I said. “A vegetable, maybe. Possibly quadriplegic. I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out. It won’t be pleasant. Drooling and diapers will be involved, so I suggest you put her down. Gently.”

  “Duma, why would you consort with this bruchad? You’re better than that. Your family was better than that. Your father was—”

  “Don’t you dare mention my family. You have no right!” Duma said, snarling like a rabid animal.

  “Maybe not. After all, it was me that betrayed your family to the Dreaichbard all those years ago,” the Half Breed replied, amusement in his tone. I was surprised by the revelation but too focused to respond to it.

  Duma, on the other hand, reacted like a snapped rubber band. He moved so quickly, he simply disappeared from where he stood. The Hanner Brid stepped sideways and backhanded Duma across his already-injured shoulder as he passed. Duma dropped to his knees at the blow. The Hanner Brid instantly shifted his weight and faced me in a deep crouch. Before I could pull the trigger at his exposed head, he threw Belphoebe’s limp form directly at me as if she were no more than a sack of laundry. My instinct was to duck, though I managed to fire one uncontrolled burst in the process. The shot went wide as I dropped to the ground to avoid the impact. All my freakin’ contingencies, and not a damn one included this guy throwing Belphoebe at me.

  In the seconds it took me to get back to my feet, the Half Breed had the Ways open and was halfway through. I followed without thinking.

  Chapter 28

  I managed to get through the portal into the Ways before it closed and blindly followed the Hanner Brid’s trail. Once inside the confines of the Telluric Paths, I felt a nearly overwhelming combination of smug superiority, rage and, surprisingly, fear. I emerged into bright sunlight, heat, and humidity so thick it was like a sauna on the surface of the sun.

  I threw my hand over my eyes until they could adjust to the intense light, acutely aware that I was defenseless for the moment. When something heavy hit me across the chest, I half expected it, so I went limp and rolled with the blow. My cuirass took the brunt of the impact, but my head snapped back into the ground in the fall.

  When I came to, someone was standing over me, saying, “Vo cyst ah kay.” I reflexively swung my leg fast and wide along the ground, sweeping the feet out from under the figure, sending it tumbling over.


  I gathered my wits and got my feet back under me. The guy I had knocked over was lying spread eagle on the ground—and definitely wasn’t the Half Breed, who was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a few tan-skinned, dark-haired people were standing around, screaming and gesturing wildly at me while others helped the poor guy I’d waylaid back to his feet. I didn’t understand a word they said, but I finally recognized the language as Portuguese, which likely meant I was in Brazil.

  For an instant, I remembered that I left Duma back in the clearing with Belphoebe and hoped one of them wouldn’t kill the other. Maybe they’ll help each other. Ha! Either way, there was no way I was letting this guy get away from me again.

  Ignoring the people, who, despite my weapons, became increasingly irate, I located the only way out of the small cement paddock in which I stood. Structurally questionable buildings all but surrounded what apparently passed for a parking lot here, with a few cars sitting haphazardly in the open space. Outside the passageway to the street, a Jitney bus that smelled like gasoline, oil, and sweat and sounded like a carnival on a tugboat went by as people on bikes and mopeds randomly sped past in both directions. I pushed through the small crowd gathered around me and ran out to the street in the hopes of getting a better idea of my location and maybe to catch a glimpse of the Hanner Brid.

  Colorful multistory shanties of all sizes and shapes surrounded me in every direction. An empty lot across the street and the road itself formed the only open areas. Massive bundles of electrical wires stretched between structures and across the street like heavy nets. I had to be in one of the Favelas outside of Rio or Sao Paulo.

  I’m screwed.

  Favelas consisted of hundreds of thousands of apartments and buildings built and rebuilt on, around, over, and under each other. The structures formed a constantly changing warren that only local residents could navigate with any real success.