World of Darkness - [Time of Judgment 02] - The Last Battle

by Bill Bridges (epub)

  • • •

  Evan shook his head, his rage subsiding, his awareness returning. He smelled blood and snow and had vague memories of combat. He surveyed his surroundings and saw the two dead men, each dressed in parkas with a prominent corporate logo: Arc Oil. His nose wrinkled, not at the stench of their steaming brains and guts, but at the logo: a Pentex subsidiary. A corporation beholden to the Wyrm, pledged to destroy the Earth for massive profit.

  His head snapped up, fully alert, as gunshots erupted nearby. The roar of more snowmobiles surrounded him; he scanned about to see their fast shapes rushing past to his far right and left. He saw the shapes of Garou leaping and slashing at human passengers. He moved to join them but stopped and clutched his shoulder in pain. The silver bullet had almost killed him.

  He felt a hand on his back and heard a soft whispering in his ear, a familiar chant. Aurak Moondancer stood beside him, healing his wound. The spirit power flowed from his hand. Evan’s blood rhythmically beat with the cadence of the chant, until nearly all trace of the wound was gone. Only a small scar remained.

  Evan clutched Aurak’s hand and let out a wolf grunt of thanks. He rushed to join the others. He could see Mari next to an overturned vehicle, choking a parka-clad man with two hands while she kicked another in his groin. As he doubled over, she raked his face with her toe claws. He cried in pain and covered his eyes as his partner gurgled and struggled against her iron grip.

  Evan ran up and severed the screaming man’s spine with one slash. Mari smiled and drove her fingers into the other one’s skull, tired of waiting for him to die. She dropped his lifeless body and pointed across the snow.

  “There are least fifty of them, ” she said. “In all directions. Pentex. ”

  Evan could see other dead bodies, all human, none of them Garou. “They don’t seem very good at this. ”

  “They’ve got silver bullets and aren’t afraid of us, but that’s it. ” Most people reacted to werewolves with mind-numbing terror—ancestral memories from the long-ago days when Garou hunted men. These fomori had been immunized to that, it seemed.

  “So we disarm them first? ”

  “Exactly. ”

  Evan nodded and ran off toward a streaking snowmobile. Its passenger pointed a submachine gun at members of the Dawn Rover Pack, who were busy attacking the riders of another downed vehicle. Evan leaped and sailed over the vaulting snowmobile, his front claws snatching the gun as he passed overhead. The disarmed human stared up in surprise and slapped the driver on the back, screaming for him to get out of there.

  The driver accelerated and skidded away. Too late. Mari dropped to all fours, bolted forward and rammed them from the side, toppling the snowmobile over. It skidded through the snow, slowing to a halt. The passengers leaped up and tried to run, but Evan was already on them. His claws hamstrung and then eviscerated one of them and his jaws rent the other’s throat.

  He spat the blood from his mouth. He hated committing such slaughter but had long ago come to accept that anyone who was foolish enough to work for Pentex was way beyond help or redemption, at least once bullets flew. These poor humans were out of their league, but neither he nor any Garou there could afford to spare them at this stage.

  As he turned away to seek another foe, he noticed a strange movement out of the comer of his eye, a sharp twinkling that was gone as soon as he turned to look for it. But he knew what it was and where it had gone. He concentrated and reached out, merging his spirit with the greater world that existed beyond, and stepped over the barrier into the Penumbra.

  The snowscape looked exactly the same, perfectly in accord with its material counterpan. A number of Garou—the expedition’s Umbral scouts—chased several flitting and swooping winged creatures. Their unearthly scales and feathered wings seemed out of place with their insect-like forms: multifaceted eyes, multiple legs and pulsating, striped stingers.

  Evan saw one of the creatures flapping away from where he had just appeared. He jumped up and snatched it from the air before it even realized he was there.

  The bane struggled in his hands, screeching and pecking at him, twisting and trying to wriggle free. He clutched it hard, denying it any opening, withstanding its painful pecks and giving it no leverage to use its stinger. He shook it hard and it finally ceased its struggling.

  He looked around and saw Crying Bird, a Wendigo shaman, pacing nearby in his native wolf form, watching the skies for more signs of the banes. Evan whistled. The wolf snapped his head in his direction, and then ran over.

  “What are they? ” Evan grunted.

  Crying Bird barked an undulating growl at the bane in Evan’s hands, speaking in spirit speech, commanding it to answer. The thing screeched in response, although it clearly didn’t want to; it was compelled by the shaman’s power.

  “Banes made by Pentex, ” Crying Bird growled. “They know we hunt. Send them from base nearby. Possess human leaders. ” He growled again at the bane, and it reluctantly screeched. The wolf barked in anger. “Fomori! We must return! ”

  Evan crushed the bane in his hands, piercing it with his claws. Its ephemeral substance dissolved. He watched as Crying Bird faded into the material world, and then followed behind. • • •

  Mari looked around for Evan. His scent was gone. His tracks ended in one place and went no further. She knew where he’d gone and prepared to follow him, when something barreled into her and knocked her down.

  A massive scaled tail wrapped around her waist, pinning one arm, and lifted her from the ground. She traced its length and saw that it sprouted from the torso of a humanoid figure, covered in a thick, leathery carapace, with four other tentacles whipping through the air. Its human jaw opened to reveal rows of sharp teeth and it croaked in a horrible imitation of laughter as it flung Mari down, driving her head into the hard, frozen earth. The snow barely blunted the impact.

  She took a deep breath, dazed for a moment, and shifted to wolf form, slipping from the tentacle’s grip before it could tighten to bind her now-smaller shape. She vaulted forward, shifting into black-furred battle form again, and slashed at the tentacle with all four claws. Its blood spurted out green and acidic, but she managed to sever the tentacle from its stump with another concerted slash.

  A claw raked her back, opening up deep furrows, but she twisted and kicked her attacker with her toe claws before it could move. The thing’s carapace kept her from penetrating skin, but the force of her blow knocked it back.

  “Ferectoi, ” she spat, and launched herself at the imbalanced fomor. It dodged aside with a surprising burst of speed and she skidded in the snow past it. As she spun around to charge again, a wolf appeared in the material world, stepping sideways from the Umbra.

  The fomor's three remaining tentacles shot forth and grabbed the wolf before it could react. With incredible strength it ripped the surprised Garou limb from limb. The wolfs howl was cut short as its body dropped to the snow in three pieces.

  “No! ” Mari screamed and jumped onto the fomor’s shoulders. Her jaws clamped onto its head and her claws dug under its shoulder plates, seeking weak, unprotected flesh. It thrashed about, trying to knock her off, moaning in pain as her teeth slowly penetrated its head plates, bringing forth trickles of green blood. Her claws found what she was looking for and dug in deeper, tearing into muscle and bone.

  The fomor’s tentacles wrapped around Mari’s neck and yanked, flinging her five yards away. Her body slammed into a snow-covered rock. She immediately righted herself and charged back again.

  Between her and the fomor, a shape shimmered into view, materializing from the spirit world. She skidded out of the way just in time, barely missing Evan.

  Tentacles wrapped around Evan’s head and waist and began to squeeze. Mari heard bones cracking. She ran toward the tentacles and paused, scrutinizing them and calling upon the insight of the spirits. She drew back her claws and slashed at a single area where all the tentacles intersected—the weak spot her powers had revealed. All three
tentacles broke apart, spurting green blood. The stumps flopped about in agony.

  Evan dropped to the ground, breathing deeply, sucking in the air the tentacles had denied him.

  The fomor leaped onto an abandoned snowmobile, kicking aside the human bodies next to it, and roared off across the tundra. Mari shifted to wolf form and took off after the fleeing vehicle.

  As she ran past John North Wind’s Son, she howled for assistance. He shifted into wolf form and joined her, followed by the entire Silver River Pack, which had been busy killing more Arc Oil commandoes. They now ran together, chasing after the snowmobile. The vehicle gained speed, steadily increasing the distance between them. But Mari kept running, following the trail left by its tracks. The Silver River Pack struggled to keep up.

  Evan’s entire body throbbed but he could feel it knitting itself back together again as he caught his breath. He surveyed the scene around him and saw Garou slowly gathering together as they killed the last of the humans. At least fifteen snowmobiles lay scattered across the tundra in ruins.

  The human dead must have numbered at least fifty, although it appeared to be more. They all wore the same parka uniforms, each emblazoned with the Arc Oil logo.

  He saw the severed body of Crying Bird, who had preceded him through the Gauntlet into the material world, and he also saw the bodies of three more Garou: a Child of Gaia from the Athena’s Shield pack, another Wendigo, this one a half-moon named Swift Talker, and Ironpaw, the Get of Fenris who had been the first to fall.

  He went over to Crying Bird’s body and bowed down beside it, praying to Gaia that the shaman’s spirit would rest with his ancestors. He saw once again the brief twinkling, as if something darted into the Umbra. Growling, he stepped sideways after it.

  The Penumbra was nothing like it had been mere moments before. A green mist veined with purple streaks covered the ground, pooling up in vortices near four different areas, places that corresponded to the bodies of the dead Garou in the material world.

  Evan was alone. The Umbral scouts had already shifted into the material world to aid the battle.

  Evan growled and struck his claw against the closest vortex, the one surrounding the empty place where Crying Bird had been. It recoiled as if alive and retreated. A voice spoke from behind him.

  “You must chase it from our spirits, before it can devour us. ”

  Evan turned to see the shadowy form of Crying Bird, a hazy, ephemeral wolf. He stood not five feet away, but looked as if he were at the end of a far tunnel, unreachable.

  Evan turned to watch the mist coil around the other Penumbral anchors to the dead. He rushed over to each of them, chasing the mist away with claws and fang. He could feel nothing as he touched it, hut it shot away from his contact as if in pain.

  The mist receded to the horizon and hung there, as if waiting for Evan to leave so it could creep forward again.

  “It will return, ” another voice said. Evan now saw three ghostly forms, the shades of Ironpaw and the two other fallen Garou. “The ancestors call you, Heals-the-Past, " Ironpaw said. “Open your heart to them. ”

  Evan felt a chill down his spine as the hair on his nape rose. These were the departed spirits of recently killed Garou. It was almost unheard of to encounter such ghosts, for their spirits usually went to the lands of the ancestors or the totems, where they chose to either become patrons for future generations of Garou or to serve Gaia in some other way unknown to the living. Some, however, were corrupted upon their deaths and remained behind to become banes. But these four shades did not appear to be malevolent or tainted.

  He shuddered as he looked at them. The Silent Striders were said to delve into the mysteries of death but there was only one of that tribe among the war party, and Shazi was too young and inexperienced to break open the barrier between the living and the dead. There was another group, however, that sought the mysteries of the afterlife, a sect within the Silver Fangs called the Ivory Priesthood. Queen Tamara Tvarivich of Russia was their leader, and they supposedly uncovered secrets even the ancestors would not reveal.

  Evan winced as he remembered Albrecht. His packmate had gone to Russia to meet Tvarivich. Were these weird apparitions tied to Albrecht’s journey? If so, they showed no signs of it.

  “Why are you here? ” Evan said, his voice a whisper.

  “The door is open, ” Crying Bird said. “The time has come. The past is unchained. Those who came before speak through us. "

  “Will you listen to what they have to say? ” Ironpaw said with uncharacteristic dignity and solemnity, as if he had grown a thousand years old since his death. As he spoke, Evan thought he saw another figure behind him, a standing shape with a crooked staff, but when he focused his eyes, it was gone.

  “Yes, ” Evan said without hesitation.

  The world shifted. The landscape changed, metamorphosing to match a different environment. Trees shot upwards, creating a pine forest in mere moments. The moon rose and set and the faint light of dawn perched on the horizon.

  Evan stood amid the forest, the apparitions with him, watching over a low hill, as if waiting for someone. Moments later, a pure white dire wolf crested the rise, limping down a deer trail, coming toward Evan but oblivious to his presence. His leg bore a recent wound and around his neck a strange twist of green vine held a small stone, a dull, black crystal that seemed to weigh him down.

  Evan stepped aside as the wolf loped past him, never registering his presence with its eyes or nose. As the wolf departed, Evan reached out and brushed its tail. His hand went through it; it was an intangible echo of the past.

  Evan looked at Swift Talker, the dead Wendigo, and saw that she still watched the hill. He saw a new shape appear there, a Garou with a crude spear. When the spear-bearer saw the limping dire wolf, she halted and growled a warning. The dire wolf stopped and turned around, taking a defensive posture.

  More Garou came over the rise, all in their battle forms, lining up to the right and left of the spear-carrier. They stared threateningly at the dire wolf.

  “What will you tell them? ” the spear-carrier said in gruff voice.

  “The truth, ” the dire wolf said, with a voice more articulate than usual for the dire wolf form. “How the Stone Fist Pack turned on their brothers and sisters, how they slaughtered them instead of accepting their just submission. ”

  “You will turn the others against us, " the spear-carrier said.

  “They will do what they must, ” the dire wolf replied. “Then we cannot let your howl reach their ears. ”

  The dire wolf hunkered down, its eyes slits. “You would dare attack your king? ”

  The spear-carrier seemed to hesitate, looking at the nervous faces of her fellow Garou. She snarled and turned to stare into the dire wolf’s eyes. “We need no more kings! ” She hurled her spear at him; it pierced his left shoulder.

  The white wolf howled in rage and pain and charged the Garou, who scattered like pups before an angry alpha. The spear-carrier met him head on, crashing into him and hurling both of them to the ground. They snarled and swiped at one another, rolling back and forth across the snowy pine needles, each opening terrible wounds in the other.

  Then the spear-carrier’s jaw locked on the white wolf's throat and refused to let go. The dire wolf flung her about with all his might, but couldn’t dislodge her. His blood sprayed in all directions, staining his fur red. He stumbled and fell, breathing shallowly as his life drained from him. He whimpered and lay still.

  The spear-carrier released her hold and howled with victory. The other Garou gathered around her, presenting their necks. She roughly rubbed all of them with her snout and then snatched the black crystal stone from around the dead wolf’s throat.

  “The Binding Stone, ” Crying Bird whispered to Evan. “He was the last Guardian of the Talon, before there were tribes. ” The spear-carrier sniffed at it, smiling. She rolled it around in her clawed hand, looking at it from all angles. “So this is his power.... ”

&n
bsp; One of the Garou, the smallest among them, whined and backed away. “That is king’s magic. Leave it be. ”

  The spear-carrier growled at the Garou and took a step toward him. He sidled back, away from her, head bowed. She held it forth for him to see.

  “How do I gain its power, Crescent Moon? ”

  “Its power must never be called upon. Many died to bind it; many more will die if it comes free. ”

  The spear-carrier barked in anger and slashed at the shaman, who dodged from the claw and ran into the forest.

  “King’s magic! ” the spear-carrier cried. “I killed the king. His magic dies with him. ”

  The spear-carrier dropped the stone onto the ground and picked up a rock. She raised it high and brought it down upon the stone with all her might. The stone cracked and exploded, throwing the spear-carrier back into a tree with enough force to split the trunk, sending the upper bole crashing into the woods behind her.

  A green mist seeped from the shattered crystal, purple veins growing into tendrils as it spread out across the forest floor, wrapping around the confused and scared Garou, who whined at the fallen, unconscious body of the spear-carrier. The mist curled around her and crawled into her nostrils. The spear-carrier's eyes opened and she stared at her Garou underlings.

  She stood up and fetched her spear from the dead king’s side. Her pupils glinted green in the growing light of dawn; the whites of her eyes were streaked with purple veins. She hissed at the Garou and motioned them forward along the path, down the direction the king had traveled.

  The mist followed them, clinging to their fur. As they padded away, Evan could see something red and pulsing moving amid their feet, but it was covered by mist. They soon disappeared into the primeval forest.

  “The first king-slayer, " Ironpaw said.

  Evan shivered. The mist was the same he had seen in the Penumbra. “The mist. It’s the Talon, isn’t it? ”

  Crying Bird nodded.

  Evan swallowed hard, bolstering himself. “It’s all around us. It isn’t a day's march away. It’s here already. ” “Possessing them all, ” the dead Child of Gaia said. Evan wished he knew her name. “Imprinting them with its violence. ”