Title

by Stanley, Jacob

  He had serious doubts about getting into the church, rescuing Simone, and getting back out without running into some kind of resistance. The whole idea really seemed like a pipe dream to him, no matter what the drones had suggested.

  They’d been on the road for about 15 minutes when Malcolm realized the whole interior of the van smelled of lilies, and honeysuckle, and cinnamon rolls, and a forest in the early morning.

  She really does have a nice smell, he thought. Better than any perfume you could pay for.

  It was an interesting super-power to have. He thought about complimenting her on it, and then decided it would be a rather awkward sort of compliment to deliver. You know, I just wanted to mention, you have an absolutely fantastic aroma. Jolly good work on that.

  “Can you roll the window down?” she asked.

  “I have the air on.”

  “Feels stuffy in here to me. Can you roll it down, just for a little while?”

  “You can do it,” he said. “There’s a little lever by the door handle.”

  She looked down. “Oh.”

  She lowered the window, and then brazenly stuck her head out, breathing in the fresh air.

  “That’s dangerous you know,” he said. “The police will think you’re a lunatic if they see us.”

  She ignored him.

  After a minute or so, she pulled her head back in, and she was smiling slightly, as if she had a great big secret.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We just passed five deer.” She pointed behind her. “Back there in that grove of trees. I smelled them on the wind.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I can do all sorts of things. Also, I wanted to mention, I finally remembered that leverage I had on you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  She shrugged. “Right now you’re doing as I wish, so there’s no need to pressure you with it.”

  “Oh come on! You can’t do that. I’ll be trying to figure it out for the whole drive. Out with it.”

  “Do we have to do this now?”

  “Yes. I insist.”

  “Well you can’t technically insist on anything with me, but I’ll let that go for now… If you really want to know, what it basically boils down to is—I’m your boss. You are, literally, under my command.”

  “My boss? How does that work?”

  “You belong to The Order of Merlin, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Then I am your superior. You do what I say. Call your supervisor right now if you don’t believe me, and we can clear things right up.”

  “I’ll call her very shortly, because I’m definitely not going to take anyone’s word on something like this. But first, can you please explain your reasoning? The Order doesn’t answer to gods. It answers to no one.”

  “I was present for the founding of The Order of Merlin, and I was given dominion in the original charter. If you don’t believe, call your superior, and say the following to her: ‘In the eyes of the Lady, on the shores of her heart, I have ascended and eaten from her table. In faith I depart. In faith I return.’”

  “What is that, a poem?”

  “Just call your supervisor, and say it.”

  “And what will happen.

  “She’ll probably be a bit taken aback. And then she’ll explain the situation. And there’s really nothing else to say. There’s no reason to discuss this any further until you’ve been fully enlightened about the chain of command.”

  “But it makes no sense,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “You were the God I spoke with at Joe Santini’s house, through the Ouija pad, right?”

  “Yes, we spoke twice through the pad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  “Well when we spoke while I was at Joe’s, you were quite clear that it was advisable for me to keep the details of this case secret from my bosses in The Order. If you’re in charge of The Order, you could’ve easily taken over this case and dictated terms for me.”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t involve myself directly in The Order’s business anymore. The group slipped into the gutter ages ago, and are a shadow of what they once were. I would never trust most of them with truly secret information. I used to be more involved in daily operations, but these days I have my own group called The Key Society. They’re more trustworthy mostly because they aren’t really a full-fledged organization as such. It’s just all the various people who hold The Keys, most of whom don’t even know each other—a more decentralized arrangement can be helpful for security. Speaking of which, you’re a member now.”

  “I am?”

  “You have a Key, so you’ve joined up. I’ll have to contact Adam, the group’s secretary, and let him know. Or actually, my higher self’s probably done that already… Still, if we survive this, I do need to talk to Adam. I can involve myself more directly now that I have a self-aware physical avatar on this plane of existence, and I probably should.”

  “Yes, well that’s all very interesting, but I’m going to call Enid, and see what she says about this chain of command business before I just accept any of it.”

  “Go ahead, by all means.”

  He took out his cell phone, and made the call. Enid answered on the fourth ring.

  “Malcolm?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Dear god, are you alright?”

  “So far, yes I am… Look, I can’t talk much right now, but I just needed to run something by you…”

  He couldn’t remember the verse, and had to make Vivienne repeat it for him.

  After he said it, Enid immediately went very quiet.

  “Do you know what that means?” he finally asked her.

  “No actually. Or, not exactly. But I know the implications of it.”

  “And what are they?”

  “Whoever gave you that verse, has just taken command of you. Official command. Do whatever they say.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. That code is ancient, Malcolm. According to legend, it goes all the way back to the time of Merlin. It’s an archaic call back to certain text in the original charter for our group. It is remarkably strange that the verse was used at all by anyone, but it is absolutely binding. Good luck, and don’t tell me anything about whatever’s going on at the moment, unless your new boss gives you permission.”

  “But-”

  “Say nothing Malcolm. Take care of yourself.”

  She hung up.

  Vivienne was smiling. “What did she say?”

  He sighed, put the phone in his pocket.

  Vivienne nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now we understand each other. Much simpler, don’t you agree?”

  “At least I’ll know who to blame if I end up dead,” he grumbled.

  5 - Bad Omens

  It took them a little over two hours to drive to the church, which was located in another rural mountain community, much like every other place Malcolm had seen since landing in the Virginia hills, but this one, more than any other he’d seen so far, was clearly designed from the ground up to cultivate a tourism-based economy. They passed through a small township on the way that consisted almost entirely of charming little pubs, expensive restaurants, and nauseatingly cute craft shops. There were lots of pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks in the late afternoon sun, and from the way they carried themselves it was easy to tell they were mostly rich vacationers.

  The church itself was further off the beaten path, several miles into the stunning wilderness that surrounded the town. The journey was convoluted—lots of hills, lots of winding, narrow roads. They managed to avoid getting lost, but it was a miracle.

  When they finally reached the church, the first thing Malcolm did was drive by the building slowly and take a look at it.

  The place was identical to the psychic image the drones had sent him, which was encouraging. It meant he could probably rely on the explicit accuracy of thei
r mental communications.

  There was a small yellow car there, which was a little worrying. The place was supposed to be empty. Was that still the case?

  As if he’d asked the question aloud, the drones entered his mind again, frantic, and intense, perhaps because of their nearness:

  The church is beautiful silence, dear one, and the beautiful girl in need of rescue is still waiting for you, her eyes filled with tears, her body tied painfully. Please hurry and enter and let us rest. Let us die. We are feeling sick here, dear one. Our eyes are not the same. Our hearts ache for the grave.

  His expression must’ve changed pretty radically because Vivienne gave him a deeply concerned look and asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “I think there’s something wrong with the drones.”

  “Because of the weak signal?”

  “No because they’re telling me they want to die… While also reassuring me that everything’s well and I should hurry into the church to claim the distressed damsel.”

  Her brow furrowed, but she said nothing.

  He did an illegal u-turn, and drove back by the church two times before finally pulling into the parking lot.

  Up close he could feel something coming off the church, an energy field of some sort. It seemed to scream, “STAY AWAY FROM HERE!”

  It was an unpleasant kind of energy that made his hackles rise and caused his stomach to turn a little. Regular folks with no training or talent in the psychic arts probably wouldn’t notice the energy consciously, but it might affect them anyway, might make them a little less likely to stop, a little less likely to linger nearby.

  Some sort of ward, I suppose.

  Maybe it was making the drones sick.

  “You feel that,” he said to Vivienne.

  She nodded.

  “You have any idea what it is?”

  “Yes. This place is corrupted, poisoned by dragon magic. Apep’s spirit rests in the walls, in the foundations.”

  “Does that mean he knows we’re here?”

  “Not necessarily. Apep’s mind is enormous, and mostly dormant, most of the time.”

  “Not very reassuring.”

  She shrugged. “Not meant to be.”

  They both got out of the van.

  Thackery had barely taken three steps when the first drone arrived.

  It landed on the lapel of his coat, and gripped the fabric tight, twisting itself and writhing as if in terrible pain.

  The poor thing’s body looked wrong. The wooden flesh was blackened and burnt in some places, other spots were covered with patches of something like silver moss.

  The creature stared up at Malcolm’s face with an agonized expression, and he saw that its eyes had changed. They were now bright orange, as if little embers burned inside its skull.

  A moment later the next drone landed in the grass at his feet. Its condition was similar but it seemed slightly worse. Its limbs were twitching uncontrollably, as if it had been stricken with some kind of palsy.

  The last one hit the hood of the van with a loud thud, striking with so much force that it instantly died.

  Vivienne knelt next to him, looking down at the one in the grass.

  “What’s wrong with them?” asked Malcolm.

  “The dragon has corrupted them,” she said. “Just like the building. You should give them the order to sleep. They are of no use anymore, and they seem to be suffering.”

  He gave a quick nod, feeling a bit shaken. “Yes, of course.”

  He closed his eyes and sent the orders. He didn’t feel any acknowledgment from the drones or any sense of connection at all, but they apparently heard him because they immediately went still, and the one on his shirt released its grip and fell off into a pile of leaves at his feet, only a few inches away from the other one.

  “How did this happen?” he asked Vivienne.

  “They were probably just overwhelmed by the atmosphere here. This place is absolutely saturated in dragon magic, probably sort of like a poison for such a small creature with such a big psychic antenna.”

  A long moment of silence passed between them under the looming shadow of the terrible church.

  Malcolm felt like the shadows themselves had a weight of their own. He wanted to crumple down underneath them and bury his head in the dirt.

  He wanted to get back in his van and drive away as fast as he could. But of course, that wasn’t even an option. Not really.

  A thought occurred to him, and he spoke it aloud, “I guess this means I can’t trust the messages they sent me.”

  “That’s right,” said Vivienne. “In theory, it’s possible they were still operating normally during your last contact, but you said yourself that something felt different.”

  “Yes, the vibe was dodgy.”

  “Then we have to assume it’s a big lie, which doesn’t mean we can walk away from this place. Clearly, this is a base for the enemy. Simone might really be there, and we can’t turn our back on her.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you, but you must admit, marching blind into a hornets nest is generally a poor strategy.”

  She stood, wiped her hands on her dress. “Maybe. But we have no choice. it’s time for a resolution of some sort. The enemy is in front of us, and we can’t turn back.”

  “Alright, if you say so, but let me do something first.”

  He took out his new tarot cards, went over to the hood of the van and laid out 3 of them. One showed a diamond-shaped street-sign that said CAUTION with a skull and crossbones spray-painted onto it in red. Another showed a knight charging into battle with a sword held high, and the third showed a tiger crouching in high grass.

  Well that’s pretty straightforward, he thought. No need for any esoteric interpretations at all. In fact, he’d gotten much more fiddly answers during his tests at the motel when asking dumb questions about things that didn’t matter a speck.

  “According to the cards,” he said to Vivienne, “We should probably just get in the van right now and keep driving until we run into an ocean somewhere.”

  “Well, perhaps we would if we were cowards.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Good thing we’re so brave and all that.”

  She said nothing as he walked past her and went back to the rear of the van, opened it up, dug around in all the mess until he found his sword. It was a basket hilted broadsword, manufactured in the 17th century, with a razor sharp double-edged blade, well made for cutting men to pieces or running them through. His father had taught him something about how to use it when he was 12 or 13 years old. Malcolm was no master fencer but he could wave it around better than the average bloke. He stuck the scabbarded weapon into his belt, and tucked the edge of his coat behind the hilt so he could grasp it easily if need be for a quick draw.

  Vivienne seemed mildly confused when he came back around and she saw the sword. “Don’t you have a gun?”

  “Yes, but one of the cards showed a knight with sword in hand, and after facing Myra once I don’t think guns are much use against ogres. This might work better.”

  After a moment of consideration, she nodded appreciatively. “Good thinking.”

  “I try to avoid being dumb. Sometimes I succeed.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps...”

  6 - Church

  Malcolm took a moment to remove his dampening ring, and put a protective ward on himself and Vivienne with a decent quantity of his white mana. It was the sort of working that would bring good luck, and interfere in small ways with a potential enemy’s plans. He would’ve liked to have done something more thorough and calculated, but without any information about what he might encounter inside, it was better to stick to something general and simple.

  The walk up the church steps was one of the most tense moments Malcolm had ever experienced. Vivienne didn’t seem nervous at all, just determined and serious, which kept him from mentioning his own feelings.

  At the top, before approaching the door, he went ahead and pulled his small au
tomatic pistol. The sword might be useful ultimately but it was strictly a close range weapon, and he had no idea what he was going to find—there could be mercenaries with guns of their own for example—so sticking with something longer range, and more modern, made sense, for now.

  The door wasn’t locked, which was a little surprising. He’d been ready in his mind to use more mana to unlock it, quickly and quietly.

  Inside was darkness, except for a smidgen of late-afternoon light coming through the open doorway. The carpets looked clean and tidy, contrasting greatly with the ruined exterior, and he could see two rows of wooden pews in the shadowy distance.

  He stood there a moment, listening, and heard nothing.

  They both walked in, and Malcolm found a light switch near the door.

  “I smell dragon,” whispered Vivienne.

  “What?”

  “Someone’s been here in this room, very recently; someone whose body puts off a scent similar to the smell of dragon musk.”

  “Simone?” he asked.

  “Maybe—assuming the drones were telling you the truth. And maybe others too.”

  “Like who?” “

  “Well, Myra or her brother would have more than a hint of dragon musk—ogres are another kind of dragon-kin.”

  “Your nose is very good,” said a deep voice from behind them.

  They spun around and saw a humanoid shape, barely visible, outlined against the wall. It was as if light were flowing around the body, creating a kind of river of reflectivity that functioned almost like a cloak of invisibility. It reminded Malcolm of the special effect used in the movie Predator, but it was more animated, and not quite as effective. The man was easy to spot once you knew he was there.

  As they watched, the invisibility effect slowly faded away, revealing the figure more fully. He was a giant, standing much taller than the top of the door. More than 8 feet tall, perhaps. He wore a black suit, black pants, dark polished dress shoes.