by rebel4477
Blade glanced to his right at Hickok and to his left at Geronimo. Neither said a word. They were to maintain strict silence until the Gualaon showed.
If it showed, Blade reflected. The shapeshifter wasn’t stupid. Yama had phrased his challenge artfully but the creature was bound to suspect it was a trap. If Yama was right about the thing’s ego, then it would take the bait , regardless.
From out of the darkness beyond the high walls wafted howls, shrieks, and roars. Night was when most of the radiation-and-chemically spawned horrors were abroad.
Blade had gotten so used to it over the years that it seldom bothered him. But it did tonight. It reminded him of the Family’s ceaseless struggle to survive in a world sent over the precipice of sanity by the insane actions of the people of long ago.
That they had plunged the Earth into environmental ruin and genetic chaos never ceased to shock him. By all accounts , the world before the Big Blast was as different from the world after it as the violent night on the other side of the walls was from the peaceful days inside them.
The people back then had it good. They’d enjoyed heaven on earth, as the adage went, and turned it into hell. They’d taken all that was good and beautiful and perverted it into a boiling soup of never-ending violence. They’d unleashed the ravening hounds of war, hounds that were still slavering to destroy humankind.
Blade understood the political and religious factors involved. But once all of the pretenses and excuses were stripped away, the real reason the world was devastated boiled down to one thing and one thing only. Hate. In the name of hate, country attacked country. In the name of hate, neighbor attacked neighbor. In the name of hate, brother killed brother. All that hatred, whipped into a frenzy of irrationality by powermongers, resulted in the end of life as the people back then had known it. The end of peace. The end of prosperity. The end of an illusion.
Blade’s arm was nudged. Hickok had poked him, and was pointing.
Yama had turned and faced the moat. They were still regulating the flow so the creature couldn’t conceal itself in the water but that didn’t mean it couldn’t travel along the bottom when the need suited it.
Blade strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. He couldn’t be sure but he thought something moved at the bank’s brink.
A lot depended on the next few moments. The plan was for Yama to keep the creature distracted. But the Gualaon might attack the moment it appeared. Then it would be up to Yama to stay alive long enough for them to put the second phase of his trap into effect.
Blade didn’t know if his plan would work. Gualaons were incredibly hard to kill. They could sustain wounds that would slay a human many times over, and their endurance was exceptional.
Blade thought about the thing’s masters, the so-called Lords of Kismet, and what this attack on the Family meant for him and his friends. They couldn’t just sit around and wait for the Lords of Kismet to strike again. They had to take the fight to the enemy. Even if that meant traveling all the way to the Asiatic continent.
Blade stiffened. His reflection came to an end.
A reptilian figure had risen out of the gloom.
CHAPTER 31
The Gualaon was wary but confident. In all its many years, it had yet to encounter the foe it couldn’t vanquish. Its speed, its strength, its special abilities, would see it through. It reared up over the bank in its natural form and clacked its long teeth. “Human,” it hissed in contempt.
“Shapeshifter,” Yama said.
The Gualaon’s sensitive nostrils detected no hint of fear, which was puzzling. “So much for your accusation of cowardice.”
“It brought you out in the open.”
“No, you brought me out in the open. The great and mysterious Yama. How ridiculous. You’re a shadow of the real one.”
“The real one?”
“Yes, fool. The Yama Dharma whose name you took. The Yama of myth that isn’t myth. The one real and true Yama, Lord of the Dead, Slayer of Souls. One of the first of the Lords of Kismet, and one of the mightiest.”
Yama took a step and the creature tensed but then it saw he wasn’t attacking. Its revelation had excited him.
“You’re not making that up?”
“What purpose would it serve? I’ve made no secret of the fact I serve the Lords of Kismet.”
“These Lords,” Yama said. “Who are they? What are they?”
“They existed long before your pathetic species saw the first feeble light of reason. For many ages your kind called the Lords their Masters, as we do. Now, like the fabled Phoenix, they have risen to reclaim their natural place in the order of things.”
“Yama Dharma is real?” Yama said, more to himself than to the Gualaon.
“I have just said so.”
“Does this mean the legends of the Lokapalas are true? That the mentions of him in the Upanishads are real descriptions?”
The creature cocked its head. “So that is how you come by his name. You’re familiar with the Eastern writings. I’m impressed. It’s unusual for a Westerner to show an interest.”
“I’ve studied all the death gods. He was always my favorite.”
“How morbid of you.”
“Spare me your baiting,” Yama said. “I am ready when you are.”
“One last thing. You say that your Lords have risen to reclaim what is theirs. Am I to infer that the ancient accounts of a great war in the Mahabharata and other sources are also true?”
“You have read those as well?”
“I know that in the years before the Big Blast, archeologists found the long buried ruins of ancient cities in India. They discovered razed buildings, and thousands of skeletons covered with radioactive ash.”
“The weapons used were similar to the nuclear variety your kind are so fond of,” the creature revealed. “It was a last resort.”
“The tales say that your Lords were fighting among themselves over who should rule.”
“So?”
“So,” Yama said, “these Lords of yours are no wiser, no better, than those they would lord it over.”
The shapeshifter extended its long fingers with their incredibly sharp nails. “What do you know of the High Lords, you with your pathetic ape intellect? They were as gods to early man, and they are as gods to you.”
“Yet they’ve been in hiding for how many centuries?”
“They have been waiting for the right moment, nothing more.”
“The right moment being World War Three.”
“More specifically, its aftermath. Most of the human race was obliterated outright or fell to chemical and biological weapons afterward.”
“In other words, they waited until humans were at their weakest.”
“What are you implying?”
“That your Lords have weaknesses of their own or they would have risen up long ago.”
“You think you know but you don’t.”
“I know that your kind serves them. That tells me a lot right there.”
“Explain your last assertion.”
“What sort of beings employ the services of those who butcher children and unarmed women?”
“The Lords of Kismet don’t live by the ridiculous rules of conduct that you primates do. Your kind have no conception of how different they are from you and even me.”
“Let me guess. They justify their actions by claiming they’re better than everyone else.”
“They are better. Physically they have more stamina and strength than you can imagine. Intellectually, the least intelligent of them is more intelligent than your geniuses.”
“The important thing is that they bleed,” Yama said. “And whatever bleeds can be killed.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t have to. That they need you for their dirty work shows they’re afraid of doing it themselves.” “The Lords of Kismet do not feel fear.” The creature smirked. “I have heard the same
said about you by other Warriors. An exaggeration, obviously.”
“No,” Yama said. “I haven’t felt fear since I came back from being dead.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“My kind call it a Near Death Experience. We die and we leave our bodies but sometimes we return to them and take up life again.”
The Gualaon studied Yama for all of half a minute, then said, “Interesting. This might explain their interest in you.”
“Whose interest?”
“The Lords of Kismet, obviously.”
“Speaking of which, why did your masters hide for so long?”
“I tire of your childish insults,” the creature said. “You’ve issued a challenge and I’ve accepted. Let’s get this over with.”
“Before we do,” Yama said, “where do we find these masters of yours? India? Pakistan? Somewhere else?”
“Not where you would think,” the Gualaon said. “And I’ll never tell, even if you had me on a rack and were torturing me.”
“The Family doesn’t believe in using torture, no matter what.”
“Then your precious Family are fools. In war there are no limits. And make no mistake. This is a war. A war of extermination.”
“Well then,” Yama said, and his scimitar rasped from its scabbard.
The shapeshifter looked around. “Where are they? What are they waiting for?”
“Who?”
“Stop treating me as if I’m an imbecile. Where are your fellow Warriors? I’m sure Blade thinks I’ve waltzed unsuspecting into his trap.”
“I’ve asked to have a chance at you first. Just the two of us.”
The Gualaon smiled. “I’ll say one thing for all of you Warriors. You have a flair for the dramatic.”
“I challenged you. I must honor that challenge.”
“Very well.” The Gualaon set itself and raised its claws. “As you so quaintly phrased it, let’s do this.”
CHAPTER 32
The Gualaon charged and was almost on the Warrior in blue when Yama swung his scimitar and leaped aside.
The shapeshifter stopped and looked at its arm. “You cut me.”
“Stick around and I’ll do worse than that.” Yama fell into a crouch with the scimitar in his right hand and drew his Razorback survival knife with his left.
“Interesting,” the creature said. “You might prove to be a challenge, after all.”
“So far you’re not.”
The Gualaon’s eyes blazed and it was on Yama in a flying bound. Its claws slashed at his face, only to be met by the scimitar.
It wheeled away and snarled and looked down at itself. The hilt of the Razorback survival knife was sticking from its side. “This can not be.”
“How were you able to kill Ferret and Helen and Achilles, as slow as you are?” Yama asked.
The thing gripped the hilt and jerked the knife out. It cast the knife to the ground, lashed its body, and went at the Warrior in earnest.
As the shapeshifter sprang, Yama resorted to his Browning. He drew and put three slugs into the thing’s chest before it was halfway to him . Side-slipping, he put three more rounds into its back as, unable to check its momentum, it hurtled past.
Rage seized the creature, and it was terrible to behold. With a snarl, it attacked anew.
Yama had already holstered the Browning and he swung the scimitar two-handed, going for the creature’s neck. The thing ducked but the blade scraped the crest of its skull. Whipping its arm back and around, it caught Yama across the face and sent him tottering on his heels . A lightning step brought it close enough to wrench the scimitar from his grasp.
Yama grabbed for the Wilkinson slung over his shoulder and almost had it level when the creature’s foot caught him in the gut and doubled him over.
“Death Warrior, indeed,” the Gualaon declared in contempt, and went to wrap its long fingers around his head.
There was the twang of a taut bow string, twice in swift succession.
Again the Gualaon looked down at itself. A pair of feathered shafts protruded from its flesh.
At the edge of the circle of light Teucer appeared, another arrow nocked.
On the opposite side Rikki-Tikki-Tavi glided into view, his katana gleaming.
“I knew it,” the creature said.
“We’re a Triad,” Rikki said. “We work as a team.”
“He told us not to, but hey,” Teucer said, and let his arrow fly.
This time the thing was ready. It caught the shaft, snatching it out of the air as easily as humans might a falling feather, and in the same motion threw it as if it were a spear.
Teucer cried out. The barbed tip had gone through his left shoulder with such force, it jutted out his back.
The shapeshifter took a step toward him but had to defend itself from a new onslaught.
It was Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’s turn. His katana seemed to be everywhere; high, low, left, right.
The Gualaon countered with its claws but was forced to retreat. It blocked, it dodged. Its left thigh was opened and it snarled in fury. Ducking, it sank its claws into the diminutive Warrior’s leg, and in an astounding display of strength, sent him flying into the darkness.
Teucer was on his knees with his hand clutching the arrow in his shoulder but Yama had straightened and had the Wilkinson steady at his side.
The thing sprang, only to be met by a hail of lead that smashed it back.
Hickok and Geronimo charged out of the night. Geronimo’s .45-70 thundered and part of the creature’s arm exploded.
Hickok ran up practically under its fangs. His hands swept high. In each he held a pearl-handled Python, and at near point-blank range, he shot it in both eyes.
“Get back!” Geronimo yelled, dashing to Teucer. “You know what’s next.” Seizing the archer by his good arm, he hauled him away from their inhuman enemy.
Hickok and Yama were backing away, too.
There was the metallic rumble of an engine kicking over and twin beams of light speared the night, adding their glare to the lantern’s.
Bent double, its hands over its ruptured eyes, the creature was making sounds that no living thing should make.
Parked twenty feet away, the SEAL suddenly lurched into motion.
The driver’s window was down, and Blade was at the wheel. He brought it to within a couple of yards of the shapeshifter and braked and stuck his head out. “Can you hear me, Gualaon?”
The creature unfurled slightly and cocked its head from side to side.
“Guns can’t stop you and swords and knives can’t stop you and arrows can’t stop you. But are you fireproof?”
“Fireproof?” the thing said.
Blade pressed a toggle.
Sheets of red and orange flame spewed from the front of the SEAL and engulfed the shapeshifter. A howl ripped from its throat.
“Fry that sucker, pard!” Hickok hollered.
Its body ablaze , the Gualaon drooped onto its side and rolled toward the bank. It reached the brink and went on rolling and disappeared.
“No!” Blade was out of the SEAL and running, his Commando to his shoulder. He reached the spot and peered down and saw only darkness.
Hickok and Geronimo and Yama were only a few steps behind him.
“Where the blazes did it get to?” Hickok said.
“It was on fire,” Geronimo said. “The damn thing was on fire.”
Yama jumped down and landed in the shallow water with a splash. “I don’t see it anywhere.”
“It can’t have gotten far,” Geronimo said.
Blade leaped down beside Yama . “You go north. I’ll go south.” He started to move off but paused to shout up to their friends. “Sound the alarm. Warn everyone in the Home. I want all the Warriors and every adult male in on the search. It’s hurt. It’s weak. It’s blinded.”
“I bet it won’t stay blinded for long,” Hickok said. “It’s eyes wi
ll heal like everything else does.”
“That will take a while,” Blade guessed. “We’ll never have a better chance to end this once and for all.”
“Let’s hope,” Hickok said.
CHAPTER 33
The morning sun lent an illusion of serenity to the compound.
Blade was on the rampart above the drawbridge, his hands clasped behind his back, brooding, when Hickok and Geronimo climbed the stairs. “Report.”
“Rikki has a busted shoulder and two fractured ribs,” Hickok said. “The Healers say he has to stay in bed for a few days. Teucer has a hole in him and can’t use his bow for a week or so.”
“Yama?” Blade said.
“He refused to be checked. If he’s hurt, he’s not telling anyone. He’s off helping with the hunt.”
“So far there’s no sign of the creature,” Geronimo said.
“That blasted lizard has more lives than a cat,” Hickok muttered.
“We had it dead to rights,” Geronimo said.
“Don’t remind me.” Blade frowned. He’d been so sure his plan would work; Yama’s challenge, the other Warriors keeping it distracted long enough for him to reach the SEAL, and the flamethrower. Incinerating it had seemed their best bet.
“You’re blaming yourself again, aren’t you?” Hickok said. “I know how you are.”
“The thing was on fire,” Geronimo said. “How did it survive?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Blade said. “It can control its body, right? Control every pore? What if it can will itself to sweat buckets?”
“How’s that again, pard?”
“Sweat,” Blade said. “Plus the water that was still in the moat. That might have been enough to snuff the flames.”
“It’s as good an explanation as any,” Geronimo said. “But where does that leave us?”
“Up the creek without a canoe,” Hickok said.
Blade hated to admit it but the gunfighter was right. He’d exhausted his bag of tricks and they were no better off than before. Worse, in that two more Warriors were laid up. Now only seven were left to protect the Family from any and all threats. Eight, if he could get Bertha back on her emotional feet.
The thunk-thunk-thunk of wood on wood caused him to turn.