by Mark Tufo
Fire was the tilting point. One hairless monkey was just bright enough to figure its importance. One lightning strike had spelled a near disaster for the entire world, at least up until the point we got so smart we figured out how to get rid of ourselves en mass of">ene. If nothing else, we were resilient. How many years would it take until we were, once again, in a position to make our extermination final? Again, it was time to question why I was bothering with what I was doing. Killing Lycan would not let me recover my soul, and I didn’t have enough love for man to care, at least what was on the outside of them, the delicious stuff flowing inside was another matter.
“Michael, I can’t see anything,” Lana said nervously. The moon was currently alternating between shining brightly and hiding completely. Thick, heavy clouds raced past, sometimes blotting out our illumination for many moments. The horses liked this less than Lana. “The horses could get hurt,” she added when I didn’t say anything in reply. For as little as I cared about man, I cared less for the horses, and if they fell I would drink them dry then cook their flesh.
No horses, however, meant slower traveling. “Dammit.” I got down. I grabbed Lana’s lead and began to walk the horses, I couldn’t see perfectly, but I was the best suited.
Lana didn’t say another word that night, I think a higher echelon of self-preservation had kicked in somewhere within her. I’d almost be able to justify what I did to her if I couldn’t see her face when I twisted her neck to the side. I kept my head down, looking for any unsure footing and just marched.
It was a hundred and seventy years earlier in my head – summer break, freshman year. Paul, my best friend who had suffered an end that should befall no one, had come down to my house; he lived about a half hour away. His girlfriend had to work, and I think mine was off on vacation with her parents or busy screaming at babies and taking their candy (she was a mean one, never figured out why I hadn’t seen that, oh yeah, now I know, it was difficult to see anything past her large mammaries – sue me, I’m a guy – I eventually got it right). However it happened, it was just my best friend and I. My dad had split for the weekend and my mother had actually moved out of the house for some reason or other, I think the word “infidelity” came up a few times, but I was too wrapped up in my own drama to pay them much heed. Either way, I had the house to myself; well…and Paul…and a lot of beer. I liked the company they both afforded. Again, I’m a guy, sue me. We were three beers in when he pulled out a small baggie.
“Wanna know what I’ve got in here?” he asked, shaking the bag my way.
“I don’t know…do I?” I asked him, enjoying my beer. “Well, it sure as shit isn’t weed.” I looked at the flat baggie.
“Cid.”
“What? You have acid?”
“Wanna take it?” he asked, no more concerned than if he asked if I wanted potato chips.
“Sure,” I answered, no more concerned than if he had offered me said potato chips.
It was about twenty minutes on the dot when we began to feel the effects, although I’d be lying if I knew exactly. One isn’t necessarily concerned with the mere frivolity of time during a trip. All I knew was that the next time I went to refresh my beer, it was something akin to a quest of near mythical proportions respite with orcs, trolls and one furry beast of a dog named Dusty. Before we knew it, it was dark out and our minds were in shards.
“The hill?” I asked.
We both knew what that meant; I was asking him if he wanted to take the two-mile trek to our old childhood playground. Rumored to be an ancient Indian burial ground, Indian Hill as it was called among the local teenagers was more of a party hot spot. At least until the cops had found a way to get their cruisers onto the expansive parcel of land. The parties had died and moved on. But nostalgia has a powerful siren call to it. Odds were there’d be nothing more up there than the ghosts of parties past and maybe a pissed off Shaman or two.
The night was charcoal black, illuminated only by a sliver of moon no larger than a cat iris. There were a couple of spots that required crossing man-made impediments, but in the middish 80s – 1980s that is – Walpole was still a sleepy town, only on the cusp of becoming a burgeoning yuppie-ville. Once the enemy roadways were traversed came the woods. Trees swayed without movement, a secret language was spoken among them as their leaves rustled in the breeze. The snap of twigs and the crunch of leaves as we moved was amplified and echoed within the cavernous chambers of our minds.
More than once we had to call out to each other due to the darkness; one could almost imagine that they had been lost in the vacuum of internal space. We were walking like zombies, now that I think about it, hands outstretched; not in search of meaty treats, but rather to keep our faces from making contact with oak. I’m not sure how we navigated so successfully without taking an eye out or at least getting a bloody nose. My guess is that the trees moved out of the way. But, like I said, that’s just a guess on my part.
I can’t be sure how long it took us to get up The Hill; it had become something of a Homer-esque epic by this time, interspersed with bouts of uncontrollable laughter, followed by beer toasting for our latest accomplishment. When we finally did come to the end of our quest – the Great Oak that dominated the open field – we sat and enjoyed each other’s company, talking about all manner of profound ideas. I would imagine we solved world hunger, found a way to incur World Peace, and may have turned the theory of relativity into a working model. Of course, if anyone had recorded it, I’m sure it was mostly a couple of guys cooked off their rockers talking about women, sports, and beer and intermingled with tears of laughter.
I tried to hold onto that bygone time as long as I could while I walked through the night. Oggie was snoring loudly in his basket and I hadn’t heard from Lana in quite some time. I kept expecting to hear a thud when she fell out of her saddle. I had been looking down at my feet and barely recognized that they were getting brighter. Well, I mean not just them (they weren’t on fire) but rather, this region of the world was receiving sunlight again. Birds were chirping and a fine layer of dew was soaking through my boots as I walked.
“Have we been traveling the entire night?” Lana asked.
I looked back at her. “Were you sleeping?”
She nodded.
“How the hell did you stay in your saddle?”
She shrugged. “Can we stop for a moment?”
“I’d like to keep going. They can’t be that far ahead of us.”
“Okay, let me restate. I need to stop and so do the hors an do thees.”
“Right,” I said, remembering that she was completely human.
Oggie jumped into my arms and headed off in search of grub. The stop turned into a half hour layover as Lana and I ate dried beef…or lamb I think she said. Oggie came back, dejected he hadn’t caught anything. I was all too happy to share my portion of the dried lamb, never did like the stuff, but he had no problem with chowing it down.
“Your friends’ tracks are fresh,” Lana said, scouting the ground out ahead of us. “What are your intentions?”
I had been absently sliding my finger along my sword. “I don’t know,” I told her honestly.
“We should be able to catch them by noon. Let the horses eat a little more and we can go.”
I nodded to her; I deferred when it came to the beasts.
“Do you find me attractive?” She leveled her gaze on me. “I want an honest opinion from a man that is not trying to woo me.”
“I find you to be extremely young.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“And yet, that was my answer,” I told her. “Are we about ready to go?” I stood, not at all comfortable in which direction the conversation was going.
She didn’t press it as we got the horses into a slow trot. The encompassing woods finally gave way to an opening that looked over an expansive greenway; we were roughly a hundred feet up on a bluff, a trail traversed down the side of the hill and across. In the middle of the field be
low us was our quarry. Tommy turned and waved the moment we broke into the opening. They were a mile from us and about a half mile from a settlement. My concern was they would get lost in that village. Unfounded perhaps, but I was sick of the chase. It was time for a payout. I spurred my horse on, well, at least as much as someone can without spurs on.
Lana got her horse going. “You should be careful!” she yelled as we made our way down the incline.
“Probably.” Oggie had placed a paw on each of my shoulders and was watching intently as we chased down Azile and Tommy. His tongue was lolling back like we were riding in my old Jeep and he was sticking his head out the window. “Having a good time?” I asked him.
He rewarded me with a slobbering kiss up the right side of my face, which was now rapidly cooling as wind rushed by. I had many moments of fear as I pushed my horse faster when we hit level ground; I was being bounced around like I was riding a trampoline.
“Graceful!” Lana yelled as she pulled up alongside.
I smiled weakly at her.
“Get lower and lean forward!” she shouted while demonstrating.
I did as she showed; it was marginally better – from trampoline to the equivalent of four-wheeling without any shocks. How Oggie was staying so steadfast was beyond me. The distance was closing and it was going to be close as to whether I killed them outside or within city limits. I vaguely wondered if the laws would be any different based on locale.
“Just fucking stop!” I shouted at them when I was within distance. “I know you know II kou knowm behind you. The game is over!”
Azile turned her horse around and waited. She lowered her hood and smiled. “The game had just begun, Michael,” she said as I pulled up alongside her. “Ah, I see you picked up a plaything along the way. And you called me too young?” she asked haughtily.
“Groupie,” I told Azile.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Long story, and it’s not like that. She’s like every other woman I’ve ever known. Once they make up their mind about something, nothing I say is going to dissuade them. And that has nothing to do with this, Azile. You betrayed me, you left me to die.”
“By the hands of Alexandr? Hardly. That ancient Lycan was so old his clan had sent him on his Mojid, or his final pilgrimage. He was preparing to die when I ensnared him.”
“You’re telling me that that Lycan was on its final legs? He nearly killed me.”
“Yet, here you are.” She smiled.
“This a fucking joke to you, Azile? I’ve been attacked four times since this little adventure has started. Well, I guess three…you can’t really count the zombie.”
“You saw a zombie?” she asked, looking concerned for the first time.
“Azile!”
“I heard you, Michael. I sprung Alexandr on you so you could get a sense of what we’re dealing with…what people are dealing with!”
“And then you take off? What kind of bullshit is that?”
“Hey, Mr. T,” Tommy said, grabbing Oggie and playing with him.
“A little heads-up from you would have been nice as well!” I directed some vitriol at him.
“I didn’t know what she was going to do, and then she told me you’d be alright,” he said sheepishly, grabbing a stick so he and Oggie could play fetch and he could be away from the turmoil.
“Lover’s spat?” came another voice.
I was still astride my horse and damn near eye level with an Amazonian Goddess. Her chocolate-brown skin was nearly iridescent in the high sun. It took me a moment to notice she was flanked by a couple of other people nearly as impressive as she was, and they were all armed, with rifles.
“What the...” I started.
“You should let me handle this. My name is Azile Ashon.”
“Why has the Red Witch deemed us worthy of a visit?” the goddess asked.
“Red Witch? Is that because of your cloak?” I asked.
“It has to do with the blood she spills,” the stranger intoned, I didn’t notice any reverence or fear in her response.
“So apparently they know you as well,” I said.
Azile looked at me crossly. “We have come on o ">
“You wish to bring a vampire among us!” the woman shouted. The two men behind her tightened the grips on their weapons.
Tommy turned to look as if to say ‘Who me’?
“What business does this man have with you? If the grip on the hilt of his sword means anything I would say he wished to kill you,” the goddess said, referring to me. “A word to the wise, stranger, when one encounters the Red Witch and wants her dead, he should swing first and talk later.”
“Your advice is warranted,” I said loosening the death-grip on my hilt.
“I will not allow you entry into our city, Red Witch,” the goddess told her.
“Bailey, of the house Tynes, you would deny my entry on my sojourn?”
I nearly swooned at the words.
“I would,” Bailey responded.
“I have brought Michael Talbot,” Azile said as she reached over and steadied me on my mount.
Bailey said nothing for many moments. “What sort of trick is this, Azile?” Bailey questioned menacingly.
“None at all, I can assure you.”
“Michael Talbot is myth, a story spun by my Great-great-grandfather. A champion created to be worshipped in dark times. Nothing more…nothing less.”
“Yet you name your town after this figment?” Azile asked.
My head snapped up to the wooden sign suspended in the air by two cross beams, it was massive. ‘Talboton’ - “Nice ring.” I said.
I got off my horse and approached the post on the left. One of the men watched but did not bar my way.
I shielded my eyes and looked up. I turned and came back to Bailey. “You are Lawrence Tynes’ relative?” I asked, a mote maybe making its way into my eye causing a tear.
She gasped. “No one knows that name! It is a familial secret, he wanted it that way and we have respected his wishes. How, demon?” Bailey asked with vehemence. She looked at Azile.
“I did not know,” Azile told her.
“BT was my best friend. I knew as much about the man as any man can know about another.” My eyes were full on glossy now.
Bailey turned to look, or more correctly look down. She towered over me. “It cannot be?”
“Oh, it can be,” I told her. “I miss him so much.”
“It is truly you.” She knelt; the two men with her did as well.
“Bailey Tynes,” I said as I touched the side of her face. “Can I call you BT for old-time sakes?”
“No!” she said as she arose.
“Fair enough.rienof enough.
“I thought you would be bigger,” Bailey said.
Azile snorted.
“Legends often are,” I told her. “What are the chances you have beer?”
“What of them?” she asked, referring to Lana and the rest.
“The young lass is my charge, Oggie here,” I said, petting my dog’s head as he came over, “and the horses, would all love a place to get cleaned up and get some food.”
“The rest?”
“I’ll deal with them tomorrow.” Bailey and I headed into my town; the two armed men remained behind.
“We don’t have time for this, Michael!” Azile shouted.
“Probably should have thought of that before you left me with Alexandr the rabid Lycan.”
“Lycan?” Bailey stiffened.
“It’s okay, my lady, he killed him,” Lana informed Bailey.
“You? You killed a Lycan?” Bailey asked.
“You sound surprised,” I said to her.
“Your exploits – if they are even half-truths – talk about great victories, but I feel as if I could beat you in a wrestling match.”
“I think I would greatly enjoy wrestling with you. Wait…that sounded a little off.”
“To be fair, the Lycan was on his Mojid,” Azile added.
Bailey snorted, “You killed a dying Lycan? How very lion-hearted.”
“You’re ruining this for me, Azile. Bailey, I do believe he left a little too early on his final quest. I think this was just a practice run for him. That was the toughest old bastard I’d ever come across, except for maybe Jed…but that was eons ago.”
“There is not the time to exact your revenge, Michael. You needed to be brought up to speed as quickly as possible, and I could think of no other way,” Azile entreated.
“Then why run afterwards?” I asked.
“So I could be sure you would follow and that I could lead you to her.” Azile pointed to Bailey. “I knew you didn’t want in this fight, I could think of no better way than to bring you to a relation of BT’s.”
“This whole thing has been a manipulation, Azile. I fucking hate being manipulated.”
“See, I told you,” Tommy said.
“Did it work?” she asked.
I looked over to Bailey. “I will do all in my power, Bailey Tynes, to ensure your safety and the safety of this township.”
Bailey nodded.
“Let the witch in,” I said, turning back around.
Azile had got down off her horse and caught up to my side. Bailey had gone ahead to make preparations for our arrival.
“Is it weirctiIs itd I find BT’s great-great-granddaughter extremely attractive?” I asked her.
“Yes, yes it is.”
“I wanted to kill you, Azile.” I told her.
“I thought you might.”
“You set me up, and then you sent those men knowing that I’d blood them.”