B00M0CSLAM EBOK

by Mason Elliott

  “My friends, we’re out of time. The missing council members have arrived. The main public forum is being reseated as we speak. I’m sorry, but we must break this discussion off and attend. I’m presenting our findings so far in a matter of minutes.”

  “But the demon must be–” Jerriel began.

  “We’ll discuss that threat and how to deal with it at the meeting,” Dirk said. “You’ll get your chance.” He rose up and headed toward the door. “Connie’s right. We have to go in.”

  50

  Suffering from several wounds, and remaining still and bedridden for days at a time, was a terrible, torturous thing.

  And it was so incredibly tedious; there was nothing to do.

  Major Avery sent people in to read books to Mason, even play music and sing songs to him. They offered to play games, but he couldn’t sit up yet. Lying on his back all the time quickly became a form of torment. He got cramps at the worst times and had to beg with tears in his eyes to be massaged.

  He worried about getting bedsores.

  Did anyone enjoy using a bedpan and being cleaned up by others like an infant or an invalid? Not Mason, that was for sure. Even if some of his nurses were pretty, that was not at all the point, or any comfort to him. It was still fricking embarrassing and humiliating, no matter how much they told him it was all “no big deal.”

  In the end, Mason was saved…by sponge baths. Sponge baths were incredibly nice and warm and slow–and he could have them three or four times a day and night. Those soothing baths kept him from losing his mind and going insane.

  And they were was far different and much more enjoyable than simply having your nether regions wiped off in haste and leaving you cold and humiliated after using the damn bedpan.

  Maybe there was still a god out there somewhere. Sponge baths were definitive proof of a benevolent deity, at least to Mason’s mind.

  A middle-aged black nurse named Donna had the gentlest hands Mason had ever been touched by, outside of his sweet lover, Tori.

  Donna gave the greatest sponge baths this side of heaven. They never failed to soothe him and put him to sleep. Mason made a point of asking Major Avery to reward the nurse as much as she could be rewarded. They both thanked her profusely and told her how much they appreciated her kindness. Donna became Mason’s favorite, and he perked up and went on his best behavior whenever she came around.

  Even the prettiest nurses grew jealous.

  Mason even got up the nerve to ask Donna in private one day if she’d let him kiss her small, strong hands. She graciously did so, and the both of them sat alone together in that room, held hands, and quietly bawled like little lost kids together.

  It had been a rough few months for everyone in Michiana. Both he and Donna the nurse, and so many others, had seen far too much death and destruction over the course of that horrible time. And it wasn’t over.

  Finally Mason’s appetite returned, and that damn metallic taste in his mouth went away. By then he could eat anything he wanted. Nothing too spicy, perhaps.

  Blondie brought him special snacks and desserts.

  Thulkara wasn’t usually a good one to send out for meals. Being a voracious Thul, who naturally inhaled food by the tableful, she often ate Mason’s chow herself and then had to send someone more reliable out for another helping.

  A little more than a week later, Mason could sit up.

  Ten days, and they began massaging and working his muscles a great deal more, and at first that was stiff agony. But they could lift him into a wheelchair and push him around.

  By two weeks, they got him up and he could stand. Then he could shuffle and move around his bed, hand-over-hand. But at least he was back on his feet.

  And triumph at last, they could sit him on a toilet and close the door behind him, so that he could do his business in private. He’d knock to let them know when he was finished. Once he even leaned against the cool wall and took a nap for fifteen minutes, before they woke him up with a knock on the door.

  He could shuffle about between two people. As he and his arms got stronger, he tried crutches and then a walker.

  He fell and slipped less and less. Usually he had two experienced physical therapists on him in any case, and they caught him before he ever hit hard.

  But soon he was catching himself from falling or losing his balance. They got him back up pretty fast, and his injuries were such that his muscles did not atrophy that much.

  But he was still looking at a long recovery of at least four or five more weeks–well over a month.

  The enemy attacks started up again. Slowly at first–skirmishes, probes, and feints to test the defenders. Increasingly heavier raids and monster attacks were soon on the rise.

  But everyone knew what was coming.

  And Mason was still in no shape to fight.

  With no Pistolero to help out, the war was going to be over before he could even do anything. Even with him it probably wouldn’t end well.

  How many more people were going to die now? How bad would it be?

  Then Major Avery brought word that a score of captives had been rescued from the enemy. The Urth people confirmed reports that anyone captured by the mercenaries were made slaves. Many were being taken far south somewhere. It was widely reported that the mercs had seized control of extensive areas of farmland down that way, and were making Urth people work the fields.

  Any captured Urth women with any looks were offered better food and treatment for them and theirs–if they agreed to pleasure the troops as comfort women.

  Anyone who protested or caused too much trouble, whether by being too mouthy, or old, or sick, or useless–was given over to the monsters for disposal as slaves for both amusement…and food.

  Amusement meant torture. The monsters delighted in tormenting the weak and the helpless. It made the brutes laugh until they choked.

  It was their only form of entertainment.

  The monsters had their own pens where they kept their human livestock. Captives there didn’t last very long, and sought to take their own lives whenever they could. There were many stories of civilian parents strangling and cutting the throats of their own children rather than letting them fall into the hands and fire pits of those vile creatures.

  A quick death was better than being skinned alive or slowly burned to death, feet or head first. The monsters were very creative, and could keep their captives shrieking and screaming for many long hours.

  Tales of such horrors did not fall upon deaf ears in Mishawaka and Elkhart. Such horrors and atrocities would fall upon them next. And everyone knew about the eight merc-run slave camps surrounding Elkhart.

  The only thing standing between all of them and the enemy were the last, dwindling defenders of South Bend.

  Mason couldn’t endure feeling so helpless.

  He went to a shooting range, and practiced as much as he could with his dry guns to keep up his skill. But he still grew tired too quickly.

  Fighting from a walker or wheelchair wasn’t going to be possible.

  He’d be a sitting duck.

  The enemy would take him out in a matter of minutes.

  At least he heard that the Shooting Stars were back up and around. That was good news.

  But that didn’t help him, or the western front.

  Mason sent for Major Avery.

  “Bill, isn’t there any way to get me back into this fight? I’m healing, but it’s going too slow. It’s going to take too long. Both of us know that. Help me.”

  Bill Avery sighed. “I’ve already sent for this woman from Elkhart, Mace. They say that she can heal people faster, over a few days instead of a few weeks or months.”

  Mason felt better already. “Get her here as soon as you can.”

  “We’re trying. Elkhart didn’t want to let her go. They’ve been keeping her a secret, but they understand our need. There’s a problem, however, Mace. A danger, really.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The process i
s said to be very painful, and in some cases, even fatal.”

  Mason didn’t hesitate. “We don’t have a choice. Get her here and let’s try it out. I don’t care about the risks.”

  51

  The main stage in the heavily guarded Morris Theater filled to capacity. Crowds of worried thousands who could not get inside waited outside in the cold.

  Handwritten transcripts taken from the meeting would be brought out periodically in chunks, and read to the crowds standing out there. With all of the uncertainty, above all else, people demanded information.

  Connie Ortega welcomed and addressed the assembly.

  Then she got down to her presentation.

  “Here’s what we know about Tharanor and Tharanorians, thus far...”

  At her signal, aides flipped a big pad of paper over with sketches on it, drawings Jerriel had advised them on. “Keep in mind that our current information is sometimes sketchy or incomplete. We’re adding to our pool of knowledge every day.” She took a deep breath.

  “As we guessed, the world of Tharanor is indeed an alternate Earth in many respects. One that our world has become merged with: half mixed up in our dimension, and half mixed up in theirs, through some kind of cataclysm that we do not, as yet, fully understand. Most likely, Tharanorians are experiencing the same massive disruptions that we are.”

  “Is that why Jerriel is the only Tharanorian that we’ve met?” someone said.

  “We think that is going to change, very shortly,” Connie noted. “They won’t all be wizards. They won’t speak our language or look like her, so we have to be very careful in our dealings with them. Report any contact with other Tharanorians to the militia or directly to the town council immediately. Don’t antagonize them or try to restrain them in any way.

  “Now, Tharanor has the same continents we do.” She pointed to them with a wooden pointer. “One interesting point to note: they see our South Pole as their North Pole.”

  “That sounds about right,” someone quipped. “Everything is backwards.” There was some laughter at that.

  “And most of their nations are located on what to us would be the Old World: Europe, Asia, and Africa. But just within the past century years, they have discovered and colonized this continent. The New Worlds that they found, like during our discovery and early colonial historical periods, are in similar areas: North America, South and Central America. Australia, Pacific Rim Oceana, and Polynesia.

  “Unfortunately, these new worlds on Tharanor were and are still mostly wild places, overrun by savage, dangerous creatures: dragons, and torgs, ka-torgs, and who knows what else. Next page please.”

  The page flipped, showing closer maps of Europe, Asia, and Africa.

  “Jerriel instructed us that on her world, there are six major nations of people. Thulldor, for example, is a nation of tall, powerful warriors, sort of a cross between Vikings and Mongols, culturally. They are the Thulls. Theirs is a warrior culture, proud, stubborn, but honorable for the most part, keeping to many traditions. They are accomplished mariners and fierce explorers, who dare to go anywhere in the world.”

  “Let’s get some of them on our side,” a woman suggested.

  “That might be possible. Jerriel says that a colony stronghold from Thuldor has fortresses and towns set up around what we would call the area in Michigan around Detroit. I’m sure the Urth humans in those areas are learning firsthand about Thulls and their culture. We hope to make contact with them all in the weeks and months ahead.”

  “Why was Jerriel in this area, and is there anything or anyone else around us besides monsters?”

  “That’s a good question. Unfortunately, in the New World on Tharanor, our area is still a mostly wild region, unsettled by humans, just by monsters and other creatures. All that we know is that Jerriel had been traveling through this region at the time of the Merge. She used magic to avoid detection, but those protections failed when the Merge occurred, and all magic and technology were disrupted.

  “All of this must have been a big surprise to her as well. Especially finding herself stumbling into one of our strange towns, which then came under attack from monster hordes.”

  “It was,” Jerriel said. Some even managed to laugh at that.

  Connie pointed to the map again. “Jerriel’s people come from a nation called Sylurria: a nation of sorcerers, wizards, and magic users. Their magic is as advanced as our technology was, and they relied on it every day in many ways as we did on our technology. The Sylurrians are determined explorers as well. In fact, Jerriel says they have a colony set up in the mountains we see in the distance, near where Chicago is, or at least was. We haven’t heard back from the scouts sent that way, and all reports are that it is a very dangerous region.

  “Many of the monsters are superstitious of any type of magic and or power, and greatly fear the mighty Sylurrians and their powerful magicks. Some of the tribes have even taken to serving and helping protect them. But they are said to be fickle allies at best.”

  A minister stood up. He shook a bible in his fist. “I knew it. I knew it! These creatures are not monsters. They do not look like us. But this proves that they are not all mindless beasts. They can be reasoned with. They must have souls! I propose that we immediately send missionaries among them to try to reason with them and preach the Word–make peace with them–even convert them to the Lord and out of their heathen darkness.”

  Jerriel shook her head at the man’s words. She looked at David and widened her eyes.

  “I would strongly advise against that any time soon,” David said. “They’re more likely to eat you than listen to a sermon.”

  “With God, all things are possible,” the minister insisted. “I insist that we be taught their language, or a language that they can understand. Then we can begin to communicate with them. I will go myself if I must.”

  This caused a commotion as well. A call to general order followed.

  “The theological ramifications can be discussed later,” Connie said. “Please allow me to continue with the overview. We have a lot of ground to cover, and new reports continue to come in. An information sheet has been printed up and will be given out later tonight. It will also appear in tomorrow’s paper. Updates will follow.”

  Everyone sat back down. “The next Tharanorian nation, Khairun, is a land of mercenaries, battle wizards, and elementalists. Like the other nations, they have explored the New World as well, making their fortunes mostly by selling their military services to the highest bidders.

  “Thus they have flourished as well, and can be found woven among nearly all of the other nations and colonies. Jerriel says that they can be greedy, and tricky to deal with. But usually they stick to a blood contract once it has been made–even to the death. In the New World of Tharanor, the mercenaries of Khairun stick mainly to the east and west coasts, and venture inland as needed, and as hired.”

  Connie stopped and sipped some bottled water before she continued.

  “Jattar is another fierce nation of wizards and warriors, feared far and wide for their superb cavalry, lancers, and mounted archers. Jattarans are stoic and shrewd, who adhere to strict codes of personal and family honor. They are superb sailors and traders and merchants as well. Most of their colonies are in what we would call South America. But some adventurers and outcasts can be found in the Mercenary Bands and among other explorers.

  “The next nation is Darshia, famous for its swordmasters, crossbow units, and armies of pike units. Their wizards specialize in being conjurers and illusionists. Jerriel even says that the greatest among them can create new things, creatures–even people–and alter reality itself with their unique powers. They are present in the New World, but they are far more active in what is to us South America and Australia, as well.”

  “Forgive me,” a member of the crowd said. “But all of these cultures sound primitive, medieval, and warlike.”

  “You’ve noted the pattern as well.”

  More nervous laughter.<
br />
  “Tharanor to a large degree, appears to be just such a world,” Connie said. “As we have already seen, firsthand. But it is encouraging to think that there are other sentient humans similar to us–like Jerriel–who we can ally and negotiate with. Most of them value peace and freedom as much as we do. As much as any people can in a dangerous world.”

  Connie cleared her throat. “One last nation to go. Marrandor is a feudal monarchy state of kings, queens, and loosely allied city states. They have a colonial kingdom set up in what was once Toledo, Ohio. They call the Great Lakes and the Mississippi River, the Inner Seas. Like the Thulls, we hope to make contact with them soon. Jerriel was trying to reach them when the Merge interrupted her travels. She is related to them on her mother’s side.

  “The Marandorians at times quarrel and war amongst themselves, but these are all complex cultures with their own values, knowledge, and ideas. Marrandor is famous for its heavily armored champions what we would call knights–their deadly longbow archers, and expert spear units. And their enchanters and wizards are as advanced as any of the other nations. Most of the six nations use magic to a very high degree, as stated. Jerriel’s mother, for example, was a very famous and accomplished enchanter, and passed that skill and talent on to her daughter.

  “That is the update on the extent of our knowledge thus far. I believe General Blackwood and the remaining militia leaders have some important announcements to make, now that this general presentation is over.”

  Connie took her seat. A militia spokeswoman informed everyone about how the town was breaking down into tribes and rival factions.

  That news caused another uproar among the gathering, although many had already heard the rumors.

  “We can’t let this happen,” one of the professors said.

  Dirk went to one of the megaphone podiums.

  “Listen, everyone. Listen up. In the chaos and anarchy that we now live in, people in fear will sometimes splinter off into tribes and groups that they feel safer in. Right or wrong, we cannot stop them,” he said. “If they want to waste their time on such foolishness, let them. We could only change their minds with force, and that would simply play into their hands and their paranoia.