Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles

by Larry Correia

  He had never been on the receiving end of one of Sullivan’s gravity manipulating tricks before. Dan found himself dangling by one arm, only kept from being flung across the room by Sullivan’s grasp. Down was wrong. Instead of being on the ground where it always was, it was somewhere behind him, where the Imperium marines were crashing through the silk screens. It was disorienting, like the most effective carnival fun house ever, only there wasn’t anything funny about gravity being violated. It was frankly terrifying.

  Sullivan released his Power and down returned to being down. Dan hit the floor at Sullivan’s feet with a grunt. He’d done better than the Imperium men, who had been spread across the room. The Heavy wasted no time yanking him up. “Run for it.”

  Lance’s mouse had an easier time disentangling himself than the humans. The little thing stopped in the doorway ahead of them. “Iron Guard headed your way. The Chairman ordered him to pop you. I’ve got—”

  A polished dress shoe squished the mouse flat.

  “You again,” Sullivan said.

  Dan looked up to see Toru standing in the doorway blocking their escape. The Iron Guard was holding a gigantic four-foot-long metal club in one hand. He surveyed the damage, said something in Japanese to the guards that had landed on the ambassador, then pointed his club at Sullivan’s chest and shouted another order. He stepped forward, swinging, but Sullivan used his Power and the Iron Guard was hurled back. The club tore a big chunk out of the wall as Toru tried to catch himself, but then he spun through and disappeared from sight. Sullivan charged right after him.

  “Jake!” The guards were getting up. Dan spied one of the weird Jap subguns and snatched it off the floor. He kicked the closest Imperium man in the face for good measure. “Shit!” Dan ran after the Heavy as a guard started firing pistol bullets right over his head.

  Somebody had just stomped him and all his guts had exploded out his side. The pain was astounding, but it only lasted for a split second.

  The real Lance Talon came back to consciousness lying on the cold bed of his truck, a mortar round still clutched in his hands. The sensation had overpowered both parts of him and put him flat on his back. There were certainly some disadvantages to being able to use all of the animal’s senses. Luckily the feeling went away as soon as the link did, because it was something you never got used to.

  Lance found his pocket watch and opened it. He’d inscribed the spell on the glass earlier. This wasn’t taking too much Power because it was only to one other person, and she was nice and close. The glass showed nothing but black. “Jane! You there?”

  She must have adjusted her mirror, because a pretty face swung into view. “I’m here.”

  “Your husband will be needing a ride right quick.”

  Jane started her car. “I’m on the way.”

  “Good. Be careful.” He closed the watch and stuffed it back in his coat. “Because if you aren’t, Dan’s liable to come apart at the seams,” Lance muttered to himself.

  The Imperial compound was approximately five hundred yards away, on the other side of a copse of trees, out of sight, but well within range of the Stokes mortar. He’d carefully prepped the powder charges, preloading each of the rings at the base of the shells, and as long as he hadn’t totally screwed up the aiming calculations (the instruction manual had told him 56 degrees for this range) the rounds should impact relatively close. At least the Imperium didn’t have any neighbors he might accidentally hit.

  The truck box was tall, and at his height he could move around in the back with just a slight crouch. Nobody passing by would realize this was anything more than just a regular old box truck. The instructions had warned that the recoil was firm, so he’d bolted the Stokes down, cut the truck box’s roof off, and called it good. The Grimnoir now had field artillery.

  Lance hadn’t fired one of these things since the war. This new one didn’t look too impressive, just a big pipe on a tripod, with a couple of gears for fine adjustments. How bad could it be? He dropped the shell down the tube, then covered his ears just in case. The recoil rocked the truck springs. The blast was impressive enough to knock his hat off. “Hot damn! That’s the stuff!”

  He reached for his Power and felt his surroundings for life. Living creatures stood out, like glowing blobs on a map that stretched for half a mile in every direction. The bigger animals were brighter, and the smaller ones faint, each kind with their own certain color. Some horses, cows . . . a dog . . . There. A bunch of fast movers. The blast had shocked a flock of blackbirds out of a nearby tree and into the air. Lance grabbed one. The simple animal’s brain was shoved to the back, and then Lance was flying.

  Gaining altitude, he pointed his beak toward the Imperium compound. One nice thing about birds was that they always had a good sense of direction. Amazing vision too. Lance couldn’t explain the science behind their eyes, but they saw colors that he couldn’t even explain to other people because man had never invented words for them. The mansion was easy to spot from a hundred yards up. He enjoyed the sensation of the wind and waited for the shell to hit.

  A few more seconds passed before impact. There was a shower of sparks as the shell struck the outer wall of the compound and burst. A cloud of noxious chemical smoke began to belch forth. Lance let go of the bird so that he could have all of his brain to work with. He was a bit off, so he grabbed the elevation wheel and moved it two clicks. The smoke bombs had been made for laying down cover for the troops to advance across no-man’s-land during the war, and they put out a lot of smoke, so Lance figured they should make a real good distraction for Jake and Dan.

  But once he got sign that they were out, then he’d start tossing the good stuff.

  Toru fell into the atrium. He was not worried, having trained against Omosa before, or Heavies as they were called in America, including the legendary Iron Guard Madi, and knew the key to defeating one was keeping your wits. As gravity changed direction, he would have to adapt quickly. Like now for example, he was falling, yet remained parallel to the ground, so he tried to keep his body oriented so that the inevitable return to normal would not cause injury or place himself in an indefensible position. A skilled Heavy often overwhelmed his foe through sheer confusion, but an Iron Guard with the proper mindset would not be fooled by such tricks. Toru reached the end of gravity’s distortion and landed on his feet, skidding through the imported topsoil.

  Several marines were running toward the commotion. Toru had not even come to a stop before he was shouting orders. “Bind the ambassador. He has been corrupted by Grimnoir magic.” The men were confused by his command, but they would obey without question. Then the Heavy ran into the atrium, looking for a fight. The two warriors spotted each other and Sullivan charged. “The big Grimnoir is mine!”

  Gravity changed again, hard to the side. It was not like being hurled by a Mover. There was no pushing, not even a sensation of being pulled, just that the thing you had understood as gravity your entire life was now aimed someplace else. Toru kept his mind clear and caught himself on one of Hatori’s prized maples. He held on as dirt and leaves rushed past. The marines did not fare as well and hit the wall hard. One crashed through a window.

  The Heavy was wasting his Power on tricks. Toru had yet to display his own Power. The tactical advantage was his. The Heavy would not know what to expect, and would probably be too slow to adapt. The Iron Guard’s stomach lurched as gravity returned, and he landed in a crouch. The atrium was filled with a dusty cloud as the disturbed topsoil fell. Sullivan was coming his way with a determined look on his face. After such displays of magical prowess, it should take the Heavy a moment before he could distort gravity again. Toru activated his magic and felt his physical strength increase tenfold. With a roar, he launched himself out of the garden and across the space. He covered twenty feet in the blink of an eye and lifted the tetsubo overhead as he descended, prepared to crush the Heavy.

  Sullivan did not so much as show surprise at the display. Gravity lurched and Sullivan
dodged to the side as if he weighed nothing. The steel tetsubo smashed a gigantic hole in the hardwood floor. Gravity betrayed Toru again, and he found himself rolling across the floor.

  The Heavy was catching his breath. “So you’re a Brute.”

  “Yes.” The Iron Guard rose. “You should not be able to use your Power so quickly.”

  “Lots of practice.”

  “Know that you face Iron Guard Toru, one of the thousand sons of Okubo Tokugawa!”

  “That’s gonna be nine hundred and ninety-nine sons if you don’t get out of my face.”

  Toru came in swinging. His weapon was so heavy that most men would have a hard time even lifting it, yet he swung the steel tetsubo faster than most Iron Guard could wield a katana. It covered a vast arc with each movement, and anything it struck would be obliterated. Sullivan moved back, trying to stay ahead of the club. The Heavy had to be making himself lighter, because there was no way a man of that stature could be so quick—

  Toru flinched as Sullivan threw a handful of soil into his eyes. Then a big fist caught him square in the nose. Sullivan had stepped inside the swing and actually hit him. Toru stepped back, blinking. Sullivan followed, and managed to strike him several more times. Toru’s Power made his tissues incredibly resilient, but he felt each of the blows. It was like being hit with a sledgehammer. Toru ducked around the next attack. Years of training caused him to react without conscious thought, and he slammed one open palm into Sullivan’s ribs. The shock up his forearm was like hitting a rock.

  Sullivan sailed back, but somehow landed on his feet. Toru’s Power-fueled strike should have shattered all of his ribs and pulped most of his internal organs, but the Heavy only grimaced and pressed his hand to his side. Only another Brute or a Massive could have taken such a blow. “Impossible. How do you live?”

  “Like I said . . . practice.”

  Toru rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to clear his clouded vision. Seeing was very difficult, but no matter, he could see well enough to destroy this obnoxious Heavy. He lifted the tetsubo. This time he would not strike with reckless abandon, but rather he would break the Heavy with precision. Sullivan must have sensed the careful shift in strategy, because he turned and ran for the ambassador’s garden. “Coward!” Toru followed.

  But Sullivan was not trying to get away, and once between the trees, he stopped, raised his hands, and waited.

  Clever. The Heavy was trying to neutralize the reach advantage of the tetsubo. However, it would not work. The biggest tree there was only as big around as Toru’s leg. With a burst of Power, Toru cleaved his tetsubo through the growth. Trunks burst into splinters and barely slowed the club. Sullivan retreated as Toru destroyed everything in his path.

  The ambassador’s guests had been frightened by the noise and spilled out of the dining room to see what was going on. These men—business leaders and elected officials—were valuable assets for the Chairman’s plans. Having them witness this spectacle was not beneficial at all. And worse, he spotted the other Grimnoir running right into the crowd of guests and yelling crazily at them. Toru could feel the impressive Power from here. “Seize the fat one!”

  There was a noise as the glass ceiling of the atrium shattered. Something hit the far wall and coughed golden sparks. Grey smoke hissed out in a pressurized jet. What?

  The distraction cost him. He looked away just as he cleaved a stout maple in half, and branches crashed down, temporarily entangling his tetsubo. Simultaneously, Sullivan surged his Power, and Toru found himself weightless. He had never experienced such a thing before. Surprised, he jerked on the trapped tetsubo to hold himself from floating away, except his Brute strength caused him to overcompensate. His legs flew into the air, then he was upside down and doing everything he could just to hang on.

  Sullivan used the opportunity to nonchalantly pick up an entire fallen tree. The Heavy shouldered it like it was his own tetsubo and then he smashed the trunk into kindling against Toru’s body. The Iron Guard barely had time to flare his Power to protect himself as he sailed across the atrium. He crashed into a support pillar hard enough to shake the entire mansion.

  It took him a moment to clear his head. The atrium was filled with noxious smoke. Sullivan was nowhere to be seen, nor was the other Grimnoir. Toru ignored his injuries, knowing that his four Healing kanji would keep up, and surged to his feet. Many of the guests were throwing fits, even struggling against his marines.

  An American congressman and a mine owner had wrestled one of his men to the ground and were shouting at the poor confused warrior.

  “How dare you Nip bastards rip us off!”

  “Take that!” The congressman began choking the marine.

  Toru tried to be gentle as he booted the two Americans off. The congressman futilely tried to punch Toru, so Toru slapped some sense into him, then picked him up by the neck. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “The Chairman was going to pay us with fake gold!”

  Toru tossed the American into the garden. The other Grimnoir must have been a Mouth, and he’d gone right for this type of fool’s biggest weaknesses, greed and fear. He did not have time to sort this out. “Try not to hurt them,” he told the marine. “The magic will wear off soon.”

  The Iron Guard took up his tetsubo and ran for the front. The Grimnoir would be trying to escape. He might be able to cut them off. Toru turned to the side, flared his Power, and crashed through a window. The sharp glass slashed his clothing, but was unable to cut his magically toughened skin. He rolled across the lawn, then sprinted for the parking area with speed that only a Brute could muster. Thick smoke filled the entirety of the compound.

  Luckily, the knight’s automobile had not left yet. Toru reached it, stuck his hands into the wheel well, surged his Power hard, lifted the huge car and rolled it over onto its roof. They wouldn’t be getting out that way.

  “Iron Guard,” a breathless marine ran up to him. “The Grimnoir have climbed over the back wall.”

  Another mortar round whistled in. This one hit the roof of the mansion. It must have been an incendiary because fire quickly spread across the shingles.

  Toru roared in fury. Damned Grimnoir! “Put that fire out. Make sure the ambassador is secure. Lock him away and let no one speak to him. Get the guests under control, but do not hurt them . . .” The furious Iron Guard slammed his tetsubo into the upside-down car. The impact crushed the fender, threw one tire across the compound, and sent the whole vehicle slowly turning. “And retrieve my car!”

  A blue Chrysler screeched to a halt on the road ahead. Jane had the window down. “Dan! Over here.”

  Dan Garrett was huffing and panting. Sullivan had pushed him over the back wall and then the two of them had hightailed it through the forest behind the Imperium’s property. He had never been much for running. In college, he had been the football announcer. It was best to leave all that physical stuff to the boys that looked like Sullivan.

  But at that moment, Jake wasn’t looking too good either. He kept one hand pressed to his side and his breathing was labored. Dan knew that it had to be bad if he was easily outrunning Jake. “Come on. Almost there.” They reached the automobile. “Honey, let me drive. Jake needs your help.”

  “Darn right he does. He’s got a punctured lung!”

  Sullivan fell into the back, Jane scrambled over the seat, and Dan got behind the wheel. He put it into gear and got them rolling. It would have been nice to keep that monster race car Sullivan had brought as their getaway car, but it was distinctive and would have stood out. It was ten o’clock at night, so there wasn’t much traffic in this rural area—there were a lot more cleared lots than homes—but there would be more cars to blend in with the closer they got to town.

  Dan concentrated on the curving country road while his wife took care of Sullivan. The rearview mirror suddenly filled with a squat bearded face. “Hey.”

  “Ah! Don’t do that,” Dan said.

  “You deliver your message?
” Lance asked.

  “Sure did. Managed to wreck the place in the process. I convinced all those rich boys that the Chairman was swindling them. They must have had the possibility in the back of their minds because I didn’t even have to push hard.”

  “Where’s Sullivan?”

  “Down here.” Sullivan was lying on the back seat. “A Brute stomped a mud hole in me and walked it dry.”

  “Hush while I work, Jake,” Jane ordered. “Good thing you’ve got that Healing spell on you or you’d be drowning in your own blood right now . . . Wait . . . More spells? Whatever have you been up to?”

  Before Sullivan could answer, Lance shouted, “You got company!” Dan couldn’t see anything. “Car is going to catch you at the next intersection. Turn it around.” Lance must have grabbed an owl.

  “You sure it’s Imperium?”

  “There’s a guy riding on the running board with a machine gun. I don’t recall Virginians being that inhospitable.”

  “Shoot,” Dan hit the brakes. There was a ditch on one side and trees on the other. There was no good spot to turn around. He shifted into reverse. “Hang on.”

  “That Iron Guard didn’t strike me as a quitter,” Sullivan said.

  Dan backed into the tree line, cranked the wheel, and then got them going back the way they came. He gunned it, but it would take a minute to get up to speed. There were headlights in the side mirror. “Here they come.” He watched the speedometer climb too slowly and found himself wishing that they’d kept that Hyperion.

  The back window shattered. The Imperium had opened fire. Dan took them around a long curve and out of view. The shooting let up momentarily. His wife reached over and picked up the Thompson that had been occupying the passenger seat. Dan’s throat was tight. He had to get them out of here. He had to keep Jane safe.