Terry W. Ervin

by Flank Hawk

  The blue-white soul emerged from the big trog. The gray brute wrapped its arms around its body and wailed in grief while the lamenting soul slowly hovered toward me.

  I couldn’t out run it, but resisting it would be my fallback position. While I couldn’t fight it, a departed comrade might. I pulled out Short Two Blades’ talisman from beneath my collar and slipped the bead into my mouth before biting down. The blood it contained mixed with the blood from my cut tongue. I spit the glass and blood out onto the floor and commanded, “Short Two Blades, I call upon you to repay your debt as promised!”

  The advancing soul hesitated as mist rose from the blood on the floor. It swirled and grew, and within seconds Short Two Blades’ pale ghost stood before me. “What would you have me do, Flank Hawk?” His voice was weak and hollow, as if he spoke through a long tunnel.

  I pointed. “Stop that lamenting soul from possessing me!”

  The blue-white light shot around Short Two Blades and into me like a hot blade. Short Two Blades drew his falchion and long hunting knife and leapt forward, into and through me like a biting wind. I spun around to see the mercenary ghost furiously hacking and stabbing at the sparking soul, driving it back. Every time Short Two Blades hit, sparks flew like a smith hammering red-hot steel.

  Then the lamenting soul struck back, sending bursts of light into Short Two Blades. The mercenary ghost howled in agony but continued to fight, stabbing with his knife while deflecting several of the light bursts with his falchion.

  As the lamenting soul drove Short Two Blades back, his form began to lose shape, returning to mist. Unwilling to give up, Short Two Blades spread his arms and threw himself on the blue-white light. His smoky essence engulfed the soul, trying to smother its light.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the fallen angel. He sat on the edge of his stool observing the unearthly struggle.

  In a puff, what remained of Short Two Blades was gone. The lamenting soul looked unsteady with much of its light intensity faded. Still, it moved toward me. I gripped my spear with both hands and waited.

  “Too bad, Mercenary.” The fallen angel’s laugh lacked its former bravado. “All you have to do is give the sword to me.”

  I realized something barred the fallen angel from simply taking the evil weapon from me. I gritted my teeth. “No.”

  Slower than the first time, the lamenting soul entered my body. This time it wasn’t like a hot knife. Instead, a comforting warmth spread from my chest out to my limbs and into my head. I concentrated on my hands. If I didn’t let go of my spear, I couldn’t hand over Prince Reveron’s sword.

  The lamenting soul’s drive for control wasn’t as forceful or violent as the Blood-Sword’s demon. At first she tried to lull me into agreeing, promising safety for myself and my friends and explaining the reasonableness of the guardian’s desires. I resisted, repeating my promise to Prince Reveron.

  When that failed the soul assaulted me as the Blood-Sword had. Sweat covered my body as I reached out, sending ribbons of healing into my hands, keeping the lamenting soul at bay.

  I don’t know how much time passed, but I guessed not much. I felt my concentration weakening, and my ability to separate and direct the ribbons began to falter.

  Roos wasn’t here this time to rescue me with his saber. I knew Short Two Blades had weakened the soul, but not enough. Then it struck me that I had a soul too. Instead of fighting with magic I concentrated. I worked more on instinct. Wherever I felt the warmth and pressure of the lamenting soul, I focused on snuffing it out, like Short Two Blades had failed to do.

  It didn’t work! Every time I tried to douse the warmth, it cropped up elsewhere. I realized I was writhing on the floor, screaming. I’d dropped my spear and my hands fumbled for the buckle securing the sword to my back. I wondered if light flickered from my mouth as I screamed.

  I was going to lose the fight. That didn’t mean the lamenting soul and its master, the fallen angel, had to win.

  Reaching with my mind again, I sought out the energy ribbons, directing them into my hands. By then the lamenting soul held the sheathed sword in my hands. My efforts enabled me to negate the possessing soul’s control of my hands. While working to unravel the lashing holding the Blood-Sword in its sheath, I announced my intention through gritted teeth. “You defeated a ghost. Let’s see how you handle the sword’s demon.”

  “Don’t,” warned the warm feminine voice. It wasn’t physical but spoke to my mind. “It will destroy you.”

  “It’ll destroy you to get to me.” With that, I redirected my efforts, sending a thin ribbon across my skin, forming a barrier to trap the lamenting soul. I was nearly finished unlashing the sword’s guard from the sheath. Foul surging energies caressed my hand as I touched the pommel while working. The lamenting soul’s presence abandoned efforts to control that hand and fled the arm entirely.

  The last ribbon’s strength faded, so I again tried to muffle and overpower the lamenting soul just long enough to ensure it was between me and the demon. Let them fight it out. The soul had destroyed my friend and possessed me. If I was going to lose, I’d have my revenge.

  The lamenting soul read my thoughts. “No!” it shouted throughout my mind and body, and fled.

  The unnatural warmth followed the lamenting soul, leaving a quick-frost chill in my bones. Shivering, I slammed the Blood-Sword back into its sheath. I’d only exposed a tenth of the blade, but that convinced the lamenting soul of my intent.

  I lay on the hardwood floor, slick with sweat. The only thing I heard was Belinda the Cursed’s cackling laughter. I held the sword close to my chest. “I’ll not give it to you.”

  Whether two minutes or ten passed, I wasn’t sure. I opened my eyes and stared at the chandelier lights. I still had the sheathed Blood-Sword gripped in my hands.

  I sat up and looked around. The room was empty except for Roos and Lilly. No fallen angel, lamenting souls, or trogs; only his vacant stool. In the double doorway Belinda Iceheart leaned on her staff. Lilly began stirring.

  I was weak from spell casting and the struggle. “Lilly! Lilly, is Roos okay?”

  She crawled over to Roos and checked his breathing. “I think so.” She rubbed the back of her head. “They clubbed him just like me.” Her eyes got wide and she scrambled over to me. “How are you? What happened?”

  I looked around again. “I’m not sure.”

  She opened my waterskin and put it to my lips. “You still have your sword.”

  I swallowed, took a deep breath and exhaled. Lilly helped me to my feet. She retrieved my spear while I lashed and returned the Blood-Sword to its familiar place on my back. “Take care of Roos.”

  “I’m going with you!”

  I took hold of my spear. “Roos needs you more than I do.”

  She didn’t let go of the spear. “Flank Hawk, you look terrible. We should stick together.”

  “We haven’t made any friends here. I need to contact the Colonel of the West as soon as possible.”

  We walked over to Roos. Lilly knelt down next to him and checked his head. A small coating of blood covered her fingertips. “I don’t think it’s too bad.” Lilly looked beyond me and sneered.

  Belinda strode across the room. “Check his eyes. Are the pupils the same size?”

  Lilly checked and nodded.

  “Did they get smaller when you looked at them?”

  She nodded again. “A little.”

  Belinda moved her fingers and mumbled a spell, then tossed Lilly a chunk of ice. “Put this on the wound.” Belinda noted my raised eyebrows. “It was good to see someone else putting that arrogant son-of-a-bitch warden in his place.”

  She pointed her staff at the spot of blood and glass on the floor. “Spit on that before it dries and tell your mercenary friend he fulfilled your demand.” Before I asked why, she said, “If you don’t his ghost will be tied to this place.”

  I couldn’t blame Short Two Blades. He freely gave me his talisman and fought hard when I called. I s
pit on the blood. “Short Two Blades, your skill and sacrifice enabled me to resist the lamenting soul. Your debt is repaid. Thank you.”

  Half the blood on the floor faded.

  I waved to Lilly tending to Roos before following Belinda out of the ballroom, wondering, but thankful, that she helped Lilly with Roos and instructed me how to release Short Two Blades. The fallen angel would have made his ghost suffer, that I knew.

  I lost track of how many stair levels we climbed. Still weak, I had to rest twice. Belinda remained silent. When we reached the top, she produced a flat key that opened a metal door with a narrow window imbedded with a wire mesh. She led me down a hall lined with dozens of doors. She stopped near one, opened it, and directed me to enter. Inside sat a long wooden table supporting several black boxes with weird knobs and cables rising into the ceiling. I pulled the scroll case from behind my breastplate and looked at the meticulously drawn diagram.

  I flipped a switch up and found the right knob and spun it, watching red numbers flicker and change in a small window. When the numbers and symbols matched what was on the scroll, I pushed the square button and spoke into the metal stick. “This is Flank Hawk, mercenary in the service of Prince Reveron of Keesee. I seek to barter on his behalf with the Colonel of the West.”

  I let go of the button and waited. A few seconds later a cracking voice replied. “Receiving Outpost 4. Who is your escort?” I’d heard seers could communicate like this through crystals.

  I pushed the button. “Belinda Iceheart.”

  “Standby.”

  I waited five long minutes, staring at the metal stick. After all we’d gone through, they couldn’t say no.

  “Proposal accepted, Outpost 4. Will arrive for pickup and transport, parking garage rooftop heliport. ETA eighteen hours fifteen minutes. Please acknowledge.”

  I looked to Belinda. “Where is the rooftop heliport? Can we make it there in twelve hours?”

  She nodded once, so I pushed the button. “We’ll be there.”

  “Acknowledged, Outpost 4. Mountain Base 1, out.”

  I flipped the switch down, causing the red numbers to fade. “Where do we need to be?”

  Belinda walked over to a window and pointed down. I looked out. It was like sitting on an aloft dragon’s back without movement or wind. “A machine like a Stuka will arrive and land on that white cross.” She smiled wickedly. “You are correct. You’ve made no friends here, Mercenary. Better you, the werebeast, and the Crusader wait there for the pickup.”

  Chapter 26

  Every Continent except Antarctica

  2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

  Mushroom clouds expanded above incinerated cities with the inevitable result of scattering radioactive fallout across the globe. The bioengineered plague, spreading like wildfire, was destined to surpass the nuclear devastation’s death count in a matter of days.

  Even as the pair of manmade catastrophes altered and threatened to end life on earth, their influence would be minimal when compared with what was to follow.

  “This is just like riding a dragon,” I told Lilly as she gazed out the window. “Except we’re flying higher and faster, and there’s no wind.” Listening to the rumbling growl of the spinning blades on the wings, I added, “Just as noisy as having wind whistle through your helmet.”

  Roos had awoken from the blow to his head just after nightfall. Lilly and I split night watch. Before noon the modern Stuka arrived. It was larger and much sleeker than the Necromancer King’s. Its wings rotated, angling upward, allowing the spinning blades that propelled the machine through the air to land and take off. The crewmen called it an Osprey.

  I sat between Lilly and Roos on a bench fashioned from woven canvas straps with our backs against the wall. Our weapons and equipment sat in a pile tied down under a net near the back of the cabin—except for the Blood-Sword. After convincing the officer that it was securely lashed into the sheath, he allowed me to stow it beneath my seat.

  The men who served the Colonel of the West seemed like common disciplined soldiers except for their gear. They wore puffy green garments with what Roos indicated was each soldier’s name stitched above his right breast pocket. They carried smaller, lighter, and far more complex guns than Roos. They were confident, but not arrogant, and refused to answer our questions and preferred to speak among themselves in their own fast-flowing language. Two of the soldiers guided the Osprey and five sat in the cabin across from us.

  Lilly spoke into my ear. “Think we’ll ever see Belinda the Cursed again?”

  I shrugged, trying to hide my concern. “She didn’t act like she expected to take us back across the ocean.”

  Belinda was the daughter of the Colonel of the West, but that didn’t make any clearer what part if any she would yet play in my mission. She had left without a word. In the morning we’d watched from our camp on the building’s flat roof as trogs removed the damaged mast of her ship, presumably to replace it with a new one.

  I didn’t pass Lilly’s question on to Roos. Although one of the Colonel’s men gave Roos a tiny white wafer to help with his aching head, I could tell he still didn’t feel well.

  It was a long flight. About every ten minutes I looked out the window and stared at the terrain below. It was like seeing the landscape images conjured from the crystal by the prince’s enchanter while preparing for the recon mission of the Necromancer King’s mountain stronghold. Knowing a seer could draw images from my memories, I figured the aerial views would be valuable. Thinking about that made me realize I’d come a long way toward accomplishing what Prince Reveron had tasked me to do. Even so, the hours raced by while I struggled to formulate a plan to barter with the Colonel of the West.

  The officer ordered us blindfolded when we neared a ‘refueling outpost,’ and several hours after nightfall when we neared the Colonel of the West’s stronghold, Mountain Base 1.

  We remained blindfolded after landing. As before, I insisted on carrying the Blood-Sword, for what it was worth. If they’d have wanted to take it, I don’t think we could have stopped them even with our sight and weapons. Having a spellcaster like Grand Wizard Seelain around would’ve been handy.

  We rode in a fast carriage that sounded like a muffled panzer and spent most of our time going uphill. Roos grumbled that he felt better and only once mentioned the annoyance of being blindfolded. I always figured Lilly to be the most suspicious of the three of us, but she adjusted better than me and Roos.

  We stopped and waited while a gate creaked open. A few minutes after passing through, echoing sounds hinted that we’d entered a tunnel. Less than a minute later the officer from the Osprey helped us out of the carriage and announced, “I’ll take your blindfolds now.”

  We stood in a tall corridor that reminded me of the coal mine near Pine Ridge. But this tunnel was at least twenty feet high, carved from stone, demonstrating expert workmanship, and lit by tubular glowing lights like the chandelier globes in Outpost 4.

  “This way,” the officer said, directing us through a metal door. Two soldiers dressed and armed as those we’d met on the Osprey followed where the officer led us, through a maze of halls, doors, and stairs. The weirdest experience was entering a closet and feeling it drop like a bucket lowered down a well. Lilly reached for my hand, and I held hers, reassuring her.

  “It will be fine, ma’am,” said the officer.

  The refusal of the officer to speak or interact with us bothered me. His last statement was the closest he’d come, besides debating about keeping my sword. The Colonel of the West was definitely secretive. The tales about greater elves said they were all that way.

  The hallways began to resemble the top level of Outpost 4 but without tapestries on the floor. We’d passed no one the entire time and I was sure it was intentional. I didn’t think the Colonel of the West’s stronghold would be sparsely manned, unless he was at war too.

  Upon reaching the third door down on the right, the officer pulled out a fla
t key from a chain around his neck hidden under his uniform. He unlocked and opened the door and flicked a switch upward, causing a set of overhead tubes to light up. Inside the square room was a rectangular oak table. Three padded chairs lined the side closest to us. On the opposite side sat one chair and a thick stone pedestal. Three of the walls were painted olive green. The wall opposite had a door like the one we entered through. The forth wall, to the left, was actually a large mirror.

  Before leaving, the officer said, “The Colonel of the West will be with you shortly.”

  Roos took the right hand seat and gestured for me to sit in the middle one. Lilly walked up and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I heard him lock the door,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. “How do you feel, Roos?”

  “Like we have been deposited into a spider’s lair, friend Hawk.”

  “I meant your head. Has the knot gone down?”

  He rubbed the back of his head. “It has.”

  It was uncomfortable sitting with the Blood-Sword strapped to my back, so I removed it. “What do you think, Lilly?”

  “I didn’t think a mirror so big could be made.” She scowled, staring at herself. “I’m ugly.”

  I laughed. “Only when you frown like that.”

  Straightening her green shirt and still frowning, she sat down next to me. “What’s your plan, Flank Hawk?”

  “To speak with the Colonel of the West, and see what he is willing to offer in trade for this sword.” I rested a hand on the sheath lying across my lap.

  “Is that it?” asked Lilly. “That’s all you’ve come up with?”

  “Honestly, Lilly, I didn’t expect to get this far. All my energies were focused on simply getting here. Now that we’re here, my gut tells me that getting here was the easy part.”

  Roos rubbed the stubble of his emerging beard before smoothing out his mustache. “The question is, friend Hawk, can ye trust one of immortal blood?”