by John Holmes
Jimmy Bognaski held the sword in his hands, looking down at it. It seemed to burn in his hands, and an incredible feeling of power welled up through his arms. He faced Chief York as she knelt in front of him, head held down, bare neck exposed. So easy to cut, to use that power. “Feel it. Allah calls to you.” The Shaman whispered it to him, and, funny thing was, Bognaski could feel it. He WANTED to kill her. It would be so easy, the power to end a life. He held it over his head and started to swing.
A bolt of pure energy shot through his leg, burning a neat hole into the outer edge of his calf muscle. “MOTHERFUCKER, OW!!!” he screamed, and dropped the sword. It clanged onto the stone of the plaza, and the head of the nearest troll erupted in a gout of green blood as a .50 caliber bullet entered one side and exited out the other. At that instant, the mask of memories that had been overlaid on Bognaski’s mind fell away, and he found himself in a world of shit. As did the rest of Mage Strike Team Seven.
Over the top of the hill, from behind their position, came a full throated roar as the missing Brass Dragon spotted them and charged into their position. Jonesy stood up and fired off a full belt of ammo at the charging beast from his rearguard position, and was smacked aside by the tail for his efforts. He landed in the snow thirty feet way and struggled to get up. The rest of the team scattered into the woods as the dragon settled into their position and spat fire after them, a stream that was cut short by the arrival of Aed, who had been lying in the snow above the village, watching and waiting. The two circled and spat fire and frost at each other, hiding themselves in a blinding cloud of steam.
Aed was the first to score, ripping a long gash down the other dragons’ neck. Blood boiled and hissed on the snow, and the return strike failed to puncture the Kevlar on Aed’s side. They whirled around, each looking for a way to latch their jaws on the other’s long, sinewy neck. The ground thundered from their fighting, and trees were swept away by madly flailing tails.
Each pulled back from the other, and then launched into the air. They climbed quickly, raking at each other with fang, claw, and tooth. Fire and ice flickered around them, glistening off of bronze and steel scales. They flew over the mountain tops, and their angry roars echoed around the peaks.
On the ground, Ahmed ignored the dragons, even as he was alternately singed and frozen. He watched through the scope, crosshairs centered on Bognaski’s face, on the triangle between his eyes and his mouth. Knowing that he couldn’t strike the Shaman as long as his protective spells were in place, he would kill Bognaski first, then a bullet each for York and Ziv to spare them the torture that would be coming to them. Slowly, he took up the slack in the trigger, then instantly let off as he saw Bognaski drop the sword. He shifted aim and fired at the troll nearest to nasty, and took off its head. A bullet hammered into the snow six inches to the right of his face, then another just to his left. Ahmed took his attention off the scene below him, rolled behind a downed tree, and started looking for the sniper who had bracketed him.
Chapter 34
Waking up to who he really was and why he was really there, Bognaski did two things at once. He leapt at York and pulled her out of the way as the form of the Death Knight loomed over her, and punched his fist as hard as he could, sending out a wall of force that hammered through the remaining trolls’ chest cavity and flayed its ribs. The armored figure next to it swung a huge, rusty axe that clanged into the spot where York had just been. Bognaski and York wound up on the ground next to where Ziv was tied down. The Mage NCO immediately threw a protective shield across the three of them, just as the Shaman let loose a blazing jet of energy. It splashed off the shield and melted the rocks around them, cutting through the chain that held Ziv to the ground. He immediately rolled to one side and grabbed the axe in a death grip, wrestling with the huge Knight. They rolled off to one side, Ziv coming out on top, and he grabbed a stone and started smashing the helmet in, cursing in Serbian.
In the distance, from where he stood after firing the bolt of energy at Bognaski’s leg, Smith watched awestruck as the two dragons arched and rolled on the ground. Even as he stared, they rose into the air, looping around each other, biting and clawing. He was brought back to the scene in the center of the village by the blast of energy from the Shaman’s hands, and his maniacal laughter. His followers were streaming around him, weapons being readied to attack the dragon. Smith saw Bognaski starting to wilt under the concentrated blast, and made up his mind.
Jaime York screamed out loud as the spirit inside told her what was about to happen. She tore at Bognaski, trying to get past him, but he shoved her back onto the ground, cursing as his shield started to falter.
Xavier Smith ran full tilt across the courtyard and tackled the Shaman, just like he had sacked so many quarterbacks in High School. As they contacted, a furious thunderclap sounded, and a bright flash of light. Stunned and deafened, and unable to knock the Shaman off his feet, Smith held on as tight as he could, bear hugging the older man. Looking at where the team had been set up moments before, he yelled as loud as he could. “TAKE THE SHOT! TAKE THE SHOT!” He felt his grip go weaker as the Shaman wrapped his hands about his neck and started to squeeze.
The bullet entered the Shamans’ back, punching through the layers of dirty cloth and into his rib cage. His protective spells had been short circuited by the physical contact with Smith, and Ahmed had lined up the Barrett Rifle as soon as the afterglow of their collision faded. Ignoring the flames and frost and incoming bullets, he took his time centering the rifle on the Shaman. Center mass. The biggest target.
The round tore through the Shamans’ body, smashing his heart, and continued through the strike plate of Xavier Smith’s body armor, sending shards of ceramic, steel and lead through his vital organs, finally coming to a stop after expending the last of its kinetic energy on the rear plate. They fell to the ground together, then rolled apart.
Above the body of the Shaman, his blood rose in the air and formed a human shape. At the same time, Colonel Scarletti appeared next to Bognaski with a thunderous clap of displaced air, accompanied by Sergeant Major McGhee, Lieutenant Colonel Bates, and Captain Lang.
“On me!” shouted Scarletti, and the four of them followed his initial burst of hellfire with bright lances of energy of their own. All four combined into a dazzling beam of light that tore into the still forming Djinn. The creature opened its arms and brought them together, then slammed them into the ground. The Americans were scattered by an immense wave of force that hammered into them like a freight train. The Djinn roared and reached forward, picking up Sergeant Major McGhee and pulling him into toward his mouth, which gleamed with solid fangs.
“Son of a bitch!” yelled McGhee, and he pulled out a Colt 1911 and started firing directly at the arm holding him, emptying the magazine of the copper jackets, silver cored bullets. The Djinn screamed and dropped him on the ground with a sickening crunch.
Captain Lang was the first to recover from being knocked over by the shockwave, and he charged at the howling creature. It disemboweled him with a sweep of gleaming claws, and the return swipe took off his head.
Bates and Scarletti stood up, side by side, and sent conjoined bolts of lightning at the creature, knocking it backwards. York and Bognaski crawled over to the fallen Sergeant Major and started dragging him away, leaving a streak of blood from where his femur stood out from his leg.
“YOU GOT THIS?” yelled Bognaski in York’s ear over the Djinn’s roar and the crackling lightning bolts. She nodded and he kissed her forehead, then ran towards the battle. Along the way, he picked up the fallen sword.
The creature roared again and launched a spike of ice directly at the two senior mages. It met the lighting in the middle, and exploded in a blinding flash. Bognaski was thrown to the ground, but he used his forward momentum to roll and come up underneath the Djinn. He stabbed upwards as it launched another spike of ice, one that pierced Lieutenant Colonel Bates through the chest. Bognaski withdrew the blade and screamed at the top of
his lungs, stabbing it again through the stomach as hard as he could, pushing on the hilt until it stood out of the scaled spine. Reaching down, the Djinn grabbed Bognaski by the neck and threw him as hard as it could. He flew through the air and landed in a heap, unconscious.
Scarletti stood alone in front of the demon. Lightning crackled at his fingertips, and he leaned forward, ready to strike. The Djinn contemptuously pulled the sword out and snapped it in half. Its laugh was a dull, earth shaking rumble.
“I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL, MAGE!” came out of its throat, its voice like a tortured mountain lion, and it stepped forward. Scarletti let the lighting die out in his hands, and stood straight.
“I think not” he said, and Aed descended down on the Djinn in a blast of frost and a whirlwind of steel. For a few seconds there was a furious commotion as the demon struggled against the dragon’s claws, then Aed whipped around and bit down hard, severing the demons’ head from its body.
He spit it out, and in his metallic voice said “Ugh, that tasted like shit.”
Epilogue. Defense Magic Institute, Billings, Montana
“So what happened then, Master Sergeant? The whole ending seems kid of quick.”
Jimmy Bognaski stood with one hand in his pocket, looking at the snow covered peaks of the Rockies looking in the distance, and answered without turning around. As he spoke, he unconsciously rubbed his finger across the oak leaf on the top ribbon of his medal rack.
“What do you think? That’s the way things happen in combat sometimes. Faster than shit, unexpected, and then it’s over. You’ve all read the citation. Hell, you run past his goddamned statue every day when you do your five mile run. PFC Dwyer, recite it back to me.”
The young kid got a who me? look on his face, but started reciting it.
“Sergeant Xavier Smith distinguished himself by extraordinary acts of heroism while serving as Strike Mage with Special Forces Operational, Mage Strike Team 7, Special Operations Task Force-37, Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force-Durkistan during combat operations against an armed enemy in Konas Province, Durkistan on January 25, 2017. While conducting surveillance on an enemy held village in the Gorengal Valley in support of Operation FALCO, Sergeant Smith and MST 7 discovered three American Prisoners of War being held by the enemy. Heedless of his own safety, Sergeant Smith maneuvered into position to assault the village, despite the presence of more than one hundred fighters and numerous extra dimensional creatures. Sergeant Smith engaged the leader of the enemy forces in hand to hand combat, enabling the escape of the POW’s and a successful assault on the village by follow on combined arms attack. During the fighting, Sergeant Smith called fire on his own position, knowing that he would not survive the act. His extraordinary valor ultimately saved the lives of five members of his own team and three American POW’s, and ended a potential worldwide threat. Staff Sergeant Miller's heroism and selflessness above and beyond the call of duty, and at the cost of his own life, are in keeping with the highest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself, the Mage Corps, and the United States Army.”
Bognaski looked at the dozen students sitting in their desks, then turned back to look out the window again. Ziv pounding the Death Knight with the axe, smashing the skeleton into dust. Jaime York holding Smiths’ body in her arms and screaming at the world, tears unning down the dirt on her face. Aed smashing his way through the Durkistani fighters, RPG rounds skipping off the Kevlar on his flanks. Tank main gun rounds crashing into the village, destroying the sand bagged positions of the machine gunners. The village civilians, being mowed down by bullets from both sides. Mostly he remembered the screaming.
“Resistance was pretty heavy, even after Colonel Scarletti showed up with the Rangers and the tanks. Don’t let anyone bullshit you, those Durkies are some tough bastards, magic or no. Now, since this isn’t a game, how about you open your books and start practicing Shields.”
One of them groaned under his breath, but Master Sergeant Jimmie Bognaski ignored him. They would either learn magic the hard way, or wind up dead.
The End
Did you know that the guys of Mage Strike Team Seven exist in another plane of the Multiverse? In a different world, they are known as Irregular Strike Team One, “The Zombie Killers”!
5.0 out of 5 stars Good, fast paced, believable storyline, February 3, 2014
By
Paul C. (Chicago, USA) - See all my reviews
One of the best zombie books that I have read. Author is creative and realistic. Characters are presented in a believable manner and combat is fast and full of unexpected turns. This read captures your attention!