A wave of blue-violet lightning blasted out before her in an ever-expanding arc. It crackled and jolted into the enemy, slaying and sweeping them in several directions. Scores fell, lying smoking and convulsing on the ground.
The glowing might of her staff wavered.
Jerriel hurriedly pulled out a pouch from her belt and sprinkled something glowing and powdery all along the staff’s length.
The enemy noted this, too, and rushed forward again to overtake her.
“Jerriel!” David cried, and charged in beside her at last.
“No!” a voice screamed. Steven Hayward jumped down from the roof and flung his longbow and empty quiver aside. He drew two short fighting swords, one in each hand, and came to their side on Jerriel’s left. Ten other militia fighters joined them, forming a protective arc around her, ready to do battle. Two troops were instantly struck and wounded by enemy arrows.
Shields, they needed shields.
Yet all they had were their weapons and their bodies.
“Daeved!” she shouted happily, her eyes bright and wide when they met his. Then she continued to focus on recharging her staff and preparing her next spell.
Three armored gozogs rushed to the front of the enemy lines, trampling lesser creatures underfoot, and driving a final charge forward to crush all of the humans.
David recognized the leader. He had seen it talking to the enemy wizards in the dark, hooded, black robes on those hilltops in his strange, out-of-body vision.
David and his fighters formed a wedge in front of Jerriel to meet the enemy charge head-on.
Jerriel rose up into the air behind them and unleashed another spell barrage at the last moment.
Blasts of magic green ice shards scythed into the enemy from above the heads of the defenders. The shards swept through the enemy’s packed ranks. Ice blades pierced many monsters and shredded them.
The terrifying spell caught the monsters in a hurricane of magic, glass-like blades of ice wherever Jerriel directed her staff.
David stabbed one of the huge gozogs directly in front of them deep in the groin. Then, spinning to his left, he dodged a heavy blow and slashed behind the gozog’s left knee with a deep backcut. Finally, he thrust both of his swords up into the monster’s vast, stinking gut from behind and to the side. It roared and toppled back and to the right. He nearly lost his grip on both of his blades.
Cheering erupted. Fresh waves of militia finally poured through the yards and around the houses from all directions, falling upon the last of the enemy push. The late arrivals shattered and broke up the enemy, who had first been staggered by Jerriel’s amazing spells.
The enemy panicked and became tangled up with each other.
David tried to follow after them as they receded, but he could barely stagger forward.
The lead gozog rose up like a mountain of flesh, and lifted a gigantic battle ax to strike down Jerriel from behind
With his last strength, David dove under its guard, avoiding the sweep of a massive armored forearm. He drove both swords deep into the gozog’s armored chest, up under the ribs.
Then he released his blades, dropped back, and collapsed onto his hands and knees.
Steven Hayward sprang up onto the gozog’s ax arm like a monkey. He barely deflected the stroke with his weight.
The huge ax slammed deep into the ground just behind Jerriel, barely missing her.
Steven rapidly scissored his short swords into the leader’s face and throat. Even as it died, the leader swatted the young boy away like a bug. Steven landed and rolled to his feet, black blades ready once more.
Militia troops swarmed over the gozogs like army ants.
None of them ever got back up.
“Daeved!”
He turned, still gasping for breath on his knees. Jerriel melted into his arms.
Filthy and bloodstained, his armor dented and in tatters, David wrapped his arms around her. He dropped to the ground, struggled and gasped for breath, trying to hold her closer.
“We beat them, Daeved!” Jerriel cried. “We’ve woon!”
24
Mason knew now that he was right, even if Blondie couldn’t remember his past. His new friend was, undoubtedly, from the other side–just like Thulkara.
But if all of that was true, then countless questions still remained. In fact, they only proliferated.
Just these magic language translation medallions by themselves were an enigma.
What was magic? What forms did it take on Tharanor…on Urth? How did any of it work? How was all of that affected by the Merge?
“If these enchanted medallion things work to translate language,” Mason asked, “then how come I can’t read those symbols on either of the medallions, or on your map?”
“The enchantment affects the roots of language as it is centered in the mind,” Thulkara said. “What we say, think, and hear. They have no power over the written word; that is a very different thing. Such skills must be learned on their own. I myself can understand all of the other tongues with such a device–but I still cannot read or write them.”
Even with that caveat, Mason remained impressed. The best Urth computers had only been able to translate complex languages, subtleties, and nuances in a limited, unnatural way. Tharanorians used their magic in the same ways that Urth people had used their own advanced technology–and apparently in many other similar facets of their lives.
To Tharanorians, Urth magic in the form of technology would most likely have seemed just as strange, frightening, and impossible.
Yet it still begged more questions: Why had virtually all of the vital Urth technologies that could be used in defense been nullified by the cataclysmic effects of the Merge?
Mason still suspected that somehow the Merge had happened on purpose.
Perhaps it had been some strange plot to weaken Urth and leave its people vulnerable to subjugation. In that case, who was behind it all?
Someone or some power had planned it all very neatly, and well ahead of time, in order to cripple Urth and leave its people nearly helpless.
And just what had Blondie’s role in all of that plot been, if any?
It still took them the better part of an hour to explain the Merge to Thulkara and convince her that Mason and his people and their culture were part of another separate world and reality entirely–a world the Tharanorians referred to now as Urth.
“Well, I guess that would explain all of the strangeness, at least,” the Amazon finally admitted.
“And neither of you know what has happened to the moon? The satellite that revolves around the Urth?” Mason said.
“Tharanor has never had any such satellite,” Blondie said. “Everyone knows that.”
Mason grinned. “Everyone from Tharanor, you mean? If you were from the other world you refer to as Urth, you would remember that it does have such a moon. And you didn’t recall that fact, either; not until Thulkara said so.”
Blondie threw up his hands. “I don’t even care anymore. Can we talk about something else or give it all a rest? My head is splitting. Are both of you happy, now?”
“No,” they both said in unison.
By then it was closing in on noon. Mason quickly explained his mission to reach Elkhart and locate his girlfriend Tori.
Why did it sound so silly and simplistically petty when he put it into words? In the larger, cosmic scheme of vast worlds and dimensions, it did sound goofy. But it was still Mason’s driving factor.
“You’re welcome to come with us, Thulkara,” Mason told her. “You could be a big help to us. You’ve already been through parts of that area and made it all the way this far.”
“Almost. If the mercenaries had not spotted and come after me. You want to go back there into all of that, just to locate a girl?” She also seemed slightly disappointed that Mason apparently had a lover already.
He hated to tell Thulkara, but it would never have worked between the two of them any way.
Mason didn’
t date giant girls, even ones as pretty as Thulkara.
In fact, just the thought of it made his blood run cold. Gosh, what would something like that be like? Scary. She’d probably grind his bones to meal.
Luckily, she seemed to accept the fact that the Pistolero was already taken.
He sure felt grateful for that. Once again, not that Thulkara was unattractive at all. Quite the opposite, in her own, buff, bulging muscles, Amazon sort of way.
But he still couldn’t shake the frightening image of making love to someone as huge and powerful as the barbarian goddess.
She’d pulverize him as if he were made of dried sticks.
Thulkara folded her arms before her and set her feet a little wider apart. “I am not going back that way, and neither are you. The mercenaries have encircled this entire area with their armies. They capture and take away anyone they can find. They already have several slave camps set up all around this city you refer to as–the heart of the elk.”
“That explains that much,” Mason said. “That’s why nobody has been able to get into Elkhart and get back to spread the word yet. These mercenaries have everything out this way completely locked down and under their control. Any refugees from Michiana who go that way are captured and enslaved. I wonder why the monsters plaguing South Bend aren’t attacking these mercenaries or their slave camps?”
“They might, eventually,” Blondie said, “once they finish dealing with South Bend and Mishawaka.”
Thulkara spoke up. “The monster hordes fear nothing but raw power. They will attack anything that is meat for them to devour–even each other. Even the great number of these mercenaries would not dissuade them. The monsters would see them as a challenge to their territories.
“Before the Merge, there were no lesser, human cities or even colonies or settlements here in this region of the New World. Not yet. Little else could survive in this region. The monster hordes must see the appearance of so many strange humans, mysteriously appearing among them and their lands, as a terrible insult and a threat to their territory. They will do everything in their power to destroy such threats, regardless of where the humans came from–this Urth as you call it–or Tharanor. They guard these lands fanatically, and fight over them even amongst one another. The presence of this many humans must be driving them insane with hatred and bloodlust.”
“I want to see one of these merc slave camps,” Mason said.
He had a sudden stabbing fear in his heart.
What if Tori had been captured and was in one of these camps? His heart sank. She was so young and pretty. What if the bandits found her? What would these mercs do with fair young Urth girls like her under their power? The answer was pretty obvious.
His fears always raced in the worst possible directions.
“Are you certain?” Thulkara asked him. “There is one such camp less than a half a day away from here. But it is guarded by one of their armies. Each of the camps is.”
Mason didn’t like the sound of that. “Sheesh, how many mercenaries are there?”
Thulkara looked as if she were doing the numbers in her head for a moment, looking up. “I would guess there are thirty or forty thousand of the sellswords here. Perhaps more. It’s difficult to say.”
Mason gaped. “Thirty or forty…that many? What are they doing here? Who are they working for?”
Thulkara shrugged. “I’ve been trying to learn that, as well.”
“We still have half a day left,” Mason said, slapping his leather gloves in his right hand on his leg with purpose. “We can still reach that slave camp by nightfall.”
“Armies?” Blondie asked fearfully, still trying to catch up. “Mace, you want the three of us to go up against armies? Thulkara, refresh my memory. Just how many of these sellswords did you say are there out here, just waiting to capture us?”
Thulkara sighed. “Enough to surround this Elkhart of yours, the slave camps, and more. Tens of thousands. And what’s more, many of their numbers seemed to be repositioning themselves in this direction, perhaps in fear of the monster hordes.”
“I’ve still made up my mind. Can you show us where that slave camp is?” Mason asked. “I don’t even like the sound of that–my free people being made slaves.”
“Oh,” Blondie chipped in, “and the thought of vicious monsters killing and devouring them is somehow better?”
“I must ask something before I join you,” Thulkara said. “Has there been any sign in this region of a great warrior–a Thul such as myself–but male. He has golden hair like the Sylurrian, yet a bit darker. But this Thul has no equal in battle. Such a fighter would be hard to miss. He was the one I came looking for.”
Both of them shook their heads. “Thulkara,” Mason said, “it would be well known if someone like that–like you–turned up out of the blue. No. No one like you has been met with or spotted. Not that I know of. And rumors do seem to travel quickly.”
She suddenly looked very concerned. “What could have happened to him, then? You are correct. Wherever he is, we should have heard of him or his great deeds by now. That much would be very plain.”
“What if he is on the other side of the Merge?” Blondie suggested. “That might explain why you haven’t heard of him or been able to find him. There are many people we haven’t been able to locate on our side here. As the Merge theory goes, if half of everything is mixed up, half of Urth would be on the other side with the other mixed-up half of Tharanor. That includes half of the people, too.”
She nodded slowly. “Indeed. It is a fearful thought. Then we must seek out a way to cross over to this other side–this alternate dimension, as you call it.”
“There is no way to do so that we have heard of yet,” Mason said. “Although, the time that has passed has been both brief and chaotic.”
Thulkara clapped her hands on her thighs. “Then I shall go with you two, and continue to search for a way. Until that time, I shall aid you as best I can, and we shall see what we shall see.”
She checked the sky and the birds nearby. “A dark, broken sky and squabbling blue jays–troubling omens. We need to be careful.”
Blondie snorted. “Yeah, like we need superstition to tell us that.”
A short while later that afternoon, Blondie switched saddles on thickheaded Patton for a time and rode Ginger. She sure seemed to get a kick out of that. Dumbo Patton didn’t care either way, whether he was a pack horse or not.
Mason smiled, knowing full well that his new lady Winger would have been severely insulted by such a grave indignity.
25
Not a single monster escaped that final battle. The militia surrounded as many of the creatures as they could, just as Dirk had originally intended.
The few monsters that they took captive and tried to question proved worthless. The brutes were far too dangerous to keep alive.
David ordered them dispatched.
He and others realized quickly that these creatures were a lot like soldier insects. They seemed to have been bred to fight and kill, and were almost mindless in other respects. Their sole purpose for existing seemed to be to fight, kill, enslave, and eat all other living things.
Thunderstorms and heavy rain kicked in before dawn the next day. People tried to clean up in the aftermath of the big battle. But they quickly gave up in the face of a deluge of relentless, frigid, pouring rain.
Stubborn militia troops on duty still managed to drag heaps of stinking enemy dead off through the mud, and piled them up out of the way for later burning.
They identified human casualties when possible, and took them to morgues and mortuaries in preparation for quick funerals. More bikers and scouts went out to map and explore the area around Michiana and to reach out to other towns and communities.
Niles, Michigan, for example, had almost been completely wiped out by the heavy enemy advance that swept down from the north.
Searchers also reported powerless plane and jet crash sites amongst all of the other growing bad news.
More casualties from the cataclysm.
Thousands of refugees and injured people still poured into the Michiana area from all directions. Anyone who could travel and get there in any way, shape, or form, did so. They became the Urth human rally point in that region. Getting there meant life.
The wilds were simply too dangerous.
General Dirk Blackwood returned to his house with Belle, badly battered and bruised, but still tough. He finally got that chunk of arrow taken out and his arm patched up. The Blackwood house ended up damaged, but not burned down.
The drenching rain actually did some good–quenching most of the monster-set fires in the area.
David and Jerriel took over a house on Churchill whose owners, a retired couple, had unfortunately been slain the night before.
It was a smaller, older red brick ranch home close to the Haywards’ and Twyckenham and Ironwood. It was not that far from downtown. It still had working fireplaces and propane heat–even an old fuel oil furnace and stove that could be used again, with some work.
The well provided good water through an old-fashioned hand pump out in the garden, next to the garage.
Despite his exhaustion and intense soreness, David couldn’t tolerate the stench of filth and death that covered him.
The first thing he did was find some towels and soap, go out to the open garage, and strip down to his boxers.
He stepped outside into the cold, pouring rain to suds up and rinse off a few times.
Ugh, get rid of that blood, grime, and dirt. The rain was chilling, but no more than mountain waterfalls he’d bathed in while backpacking.
When he went back inside, Jerriel had some oil lamps lit. While he toweled off, shivering, she cleaned up with simple magic.
Hair, body, and clothing–she wiped her accumulated grime off on some paper towels and tossed it all away.
Well, if it was that easy-peasy for her…
She glanced at him in the entryway. Jerriel blinked, stared, and gasped. It was about that time that David noted just how heavily bruised and lacerated his entire body was. The damage was spread over several places and many lesser wounds.
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