Relics- The Chronicles of Solomon Drake

by Robert York

  “Are we there yet,” I asked in a whiny exasperated tone.

  Silence.

  Obviously Wilmar wasn’t familiar with the etiquette of this particular game. He’d missed the introduction of the automobile along with the subsequent lifestyle and culture that had sprung up around that particular invention. No drive-in movies, no drive-thru fast food joints, no car washes, no arguing over a parking space. He’s probably never stopped at a truck-stop to eat unhealthy greasy food or used a bathroom that reeked of urine after decades of use and poor cleaning. All of this meant I needed to help familiarize him with such things. It was my duty after all.

  “I’m cold and hungry and I have to pee really bad,” I said in a more exaggerated annoying tone.

  Silence again. He did turn back in my direction however, glaring.

  “How much longer do we have to walk out here? Can you carry me? I don’t think I can go much farther, my legs feel like boiled spaghetti.” I said in the same tone as before, but ended the statement with a mock pleading sob. I will concede that “smart assed guy” was more “annoying guy” right now.

  Wilmar wheeled around grabbing the front of my coat lifting my pack laden form off the ground a good three feet. Fabric and zippers strained under the force exerted by his meaty fist. If I hadn’t been prepared for some sort of response I may have soiled my snow pants. Thank the Lord for my strong bowel and prostate control. He pulled me close until we were literally nose-to-nose. The scowl on his face said everything; he was in no way interested in my little game. Wilmar held me in his unwavering grip until he felt that his point had been made and then he huffed out a growl putting me down.

  I waved a hand in front of my face pretending to waft away his bad breath. Adding a cough or two to add drama to my performance. Wilmar simply turned continuing his way toward the encampment.

  “I guess you’ve never heard of Tic Tacs so far out in a place like this,” I said falling in step behind him once again.

  “Now that you are on the mend and have found your voice again, I find you quite annoying,” Wilmar said peering obliquely back in my direction.

  I couldn’t help but smile. I’m a cut up by nature or smartass if you wish to judge me for my actions thus far. Perhaps my carefree cynical manner is precisely why Barnabas is a harsh disciplinarian. Well there’s that and he’s British. I absolutely hate somber situations or grumpy people or anyone that doesn’t want to talk. I like to engage people in conversation and if possible make a person smile or laugh. I enjoy seeing people happy. It warms my heart making me feel good in the process. Before you start pointing out the obvious or lecture me that annoying someone isn’t the best way to get someone to smile or laugh I’d like to say in my defense that I completely agree with that assessment. You’re forgetting one important aspect of my personality. I have a mischievous streak about a mile wide. Besides, Wilmar made me get up out of a nice warm toasty bed to take this hike in the frigid air, seriously he had this coming.

  “Wait until you get to know me,” I answered. “I’ll show you levels of annoyance that you never thought possible.”

  “I would rather be stricken with an incapacitating case of the Palsy.” He said through what sounded like a wide smile.

  “That’s harsh,” I replied. “I might actually be a good friend if you only got to know me.”

  Wilmar turned abruptly, confronting me.

  “I already had a good friend and from what you’re telling me he’s dead! I don’t need another, especially a friend like you!” He bellowed emphasizing each clipped word.

  I had no words to respond to his heated torrent. When they finally came Wilmar didn’t give me the chance to say them. Something caught his attention. He placed a big hand over my mouth silencing me as he moved closer, hunching over me in a protective stance.

  “Be silent,” he whispered.

  His head darted around scanning quickly in different directions. Without warning Wilmar forced me to the ground. A black blur the size of a small horse slammed into him. Whatever hit Wilmar sent both he and the form itself tumbling away from me. It wasn’t until I was able to get to a kneeling position to survey the situation that I realized a huge black wolf had attacked Wilmar. It took my mind only a few seconds more to realize the wolf was Race and the Werewolf was putting up a terrific fight. He had pinned Wilmar face down savagely biting at his neck. When the big man moved to get an arm around Race, the Werewolf slithered out of the hold reversing direction then darting back in for a bite at Wilmar’s arm or hand.

  I spied another form emerging from the tree line to my left, moving fast. This new form raced headlong toward Wilmar struggling to get to his feet. A glint of something metallic in each of its hands, the form leapt a car’s length away from the big man landing on Wilmar’s back. It was Bart. His arms and hands blurred repeatedly in lightning fast strikes. His knives cut deep into the back of Wilmar’s fur coat, tufts of hair flew up with every vicious stroke. Race it appeared was the distraction. I felt more than heard the growl of anger that came from Wilmar. Snow actually fell from the tree branches as the echo boomed away from the battle. Wilmar threw Bart off his back getting to his feet. He then pivoted out of the way of Race’s attack. Wilmar was extremely quick and agile for someone of his size and bulk. Using his right hand, he grabbed the Werewolf by the scruff of his neck. He whirled Race around in a wide circle over his head like a wrestler ready to body slam his opponent into the mat. He’d struck Bart in the process however, who’d rushed in for another swipe at Wilmar. The blow struck Bart square in the chest sending both he and Race rocketing into a snowdrift thirty feet away. A yelp of agonized pain came from Race as he landed hard on the frozen ground. He and Race flailed drunkenly attempting to get to their feet. Wilmar turned with a murderous look in his eyes to the direction of a nearby cluster of trees.

  I looked on dumbfounded; I became acutely aware that I wasn’t alone. I glanced to my right; there the beautiful form of Adrianna knelt beside me. She watched the scene as well. She quirked a smile then looked into my eyes.

  “Too bad we don’t have any popcorn, this is a really good show.” She said in a whimsical tone. “Much better than the rubbish they put on television these days.”

  She placed a hand on my shoulder inching closer to me.

  “Are you alright… Can you walk?” She asked concern in her voice.

  Her hand moved to the side of my face. Her thumb affectionately stroked the skin of my cheek. For a second there I was distracted as my eyes regarded hers. I came back quickly to the situation at hand however.

  “Yes, but what are they doing?” I asked scrambling to my feet.

  Her hand dropped to her side.

  “Saving you of course,” she replied puzzled.

  “They’re going to get themselves killed,” I yelled hurriedly as I plodded heavily through the snow moving to get between Wilmar and my two misguided rescuers. Adrianna jogged effortlessly at my side, backwards.

  Show off.

  “We must get you away from this creature,” she said. “He seems to be extremely formidable and dangerous.”

  “He’s not a creature,” I said, heat in my voice. “He’s only dangerous because they attacked him! You’re all making a terrible mistake!”

  Adrianna regarded me shaking her head skeptically then fell into step at my side running forward this time. It was difficult enough keeping my footing in this snow. I couldn’t count how many times I nearly slipped, tripped or skidded. Luckily Adrianna was there to keep me from looking awkward or uncoordinated. Wilmar wrapped his powerful arms around the trunk of a tree about the thickness of a telephone pole. He braced himself giving his upper body a quick brutal jerk snapping off the thirty-foot tree four feet from the ground. He turned shifting the massive tree in his grip lifting it above his head like a power weightlifter. Wilmar lunged forward hurling the massive tree in the direction of Race and Bart. My breath caught as I tracked the trees arc falling short of its target by six feet.

&nb
sp; “My God,” Adrianna gasp.

  Adrianna changed course heading for Race and Bart fumbling around in the snow. They moved like two drunks trying to find a car in an empty parking lot. It appeared that Wilmar rang their bells worse than I thought. Shaking the cobwebs from their minds was proving to be a difficult task. Race was in his human form, which meant he didn’t have enough sense to keep his wolf shape. I moved to intercept Wilmar. His rage had blinded his reason. Missing his targets may have stoked his anger because he was now stalking toward Race and Bart. I didn’t even know if Wilmar saw me standing in front of him. I searched the ground for something, anything to help me get Wilmar to change his focus off them.

  At first I thought of just pelting him with snowballs, but decided against that idea mainly because there was no sense in making him angrier. The closer he plodded toward me the faster my heart pumped. Then an idea came to me, I had my Colt pistol holstered to my leg. I could fire off a few rounds in his direction possibly drawing his attention, but if I missed I could hit him and a bullet wound out here might prove life threatening. Then again since Wilmar was fire proof I had to assume that he was also bullet proof. If I shot him there’s no telling how he’d react. Imagine a rhinoceros getting stung by an African bee, not an encouraging picture. It was then that I realized I was still holding my battle staff.

  With hastily mustered resolve I planted my feet raising my staff high, then driving the end of it into the snow striking the frozen ground beneath while uttering a simple yet effective attention getting spell called Thunder Crack.

  The spell does exactly what the name implies. When a Wizard - such as myself - utters the spell then slams the end of his staff down on any solid surface a loud echoing wall of sound is produced getting everyone’s attention. It’s a great trick for parties and compelling a room full of squabbling Wizards to shut the hell up. On this particular occasion I put too much force in the spell because it bowled Wilmar off his feet.

  I turned back observing Adrianna getting to her feet, a deep-rooted scowl casting daggers in my direction. My spell apparently knocked her off her feet getting snow in her expensive boots. I shrugged apologetically turning back to Wilmar. He was on his feet again; anger that had been directed at Race and Bart was now fixed upon me. A balled fist the size of a cantaloupe was drawn back for a punch destined to flatten my face like a pancake… Oh, did I mention he was less than an arm’s length away?

  I brought my staff up defensively as I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to be witness to the hurt Wilmar was going to lay on me. I’d rather it happen quickly knocking me senseless. No pain, just out cold. The pain I could deal with if and when I woke up. It was at that moment I heard a spell uttered deep in the recesses of my mind, feeling a pressure in the front of my head, a pressure similar to an intense sinus headache. I wasn’t able to hear the words of the spell being uttered, but I could feel magic welling up inside my body then being channeled through my right arm into my staff. A long slow creep of something warm dripped from my right nostril.

  The pressure in my head became so great pain erupted behind my eyes and I collapsed to my hands and knees dropping my staff. My eyes, clinched tight in pain reluctantly opened to the sight of blood patting onto the snow dripping freely from both nostrils. The contrast of my red steaming blood against the stark white of the snow was striking.

  Merlin, I thought.

  It was the only logical explanation for what was happening. Being essentially a spirit he could use my body and magic freely. All he’d have to do is supplant my consciousness for his own or what is more commonly known as possession. Except, I was aware of myself still having control over my body and it’s actions. So whatever he was doing was something entirely new to me. It was an effort to turn my eyes up but I forced myself to do it. What I saw gave me a new sense of respect for the ancient spirit that resided in my head. A clear quivering sphere of energy not unlike a droplet of water only more massive hovered a few inches off the ground. Inside the sphere, Wilmar with a surprised look on his face was frozen in time. Not even an eyelash moved. My head felt heavy. I could no longer hold it up at that angle. The next thing I knew was that I was staring blankly at the snow beneath me.

  Deep in my mind I heard a satisfied “humph” followed by “Pray, one day hence thou might be as skilled as I,” in a thick Shakespearean accent.

  “Show off,” I muttered incoherently unimpressed.

  I could sense Merlin’s grin at my wise-ass remark. Then - as though they were never there - the pressure and pain in my head simply vanished.

  “It would be wise my young friend to eat something,” Merlin said. Then he added, “It will help with the effects of my intrusion into your conscious mind.”

  The bleeding slowed to a few droplets then stopped all together. Crunching snow under heavy footfalls sounded as someone came near to me. I felt a large hand that could only have been Wilmar’s resting gently on my back as he knelt beside me.

  “Are you alright Solomon,” he asked concerned?

  I nodded, not knowing whether I would vomit if I had opened my mouth to speak. My head spun with an unpleasant dizzying sensation. I had to keep my mind focused on anything other than that feeling.

  “Get away from him,” Adrianna growled closing the distance with Wilmar at a high rate of speed.

  Without turning in her direction I raised my hand in a staying gesture. Wilmar’s hand tensed on my back in anticipation of her attack. Luckily Adrianna understood my meaning slowing her approach finally stopping about ten feet away from Wilmar and I.

  “He’s a friend,” I said in a dazed raspy voice. “And I really don’t want to get this started up again.”

  I forced my head to turn so I could look up into Wilmar’s eyes.

  “Are you alright,” I asked warily glancing over to the tree lying in the snow.

  Wilmar’s eyes followed the direction of mine. A subtle hint of shame entered into his bearing, then his eyes sought out mine once again.

  “Yes,” he said after a silence. “The anger is gone.” “One of God’s messengers came to me. He told me that you all are friends and that I should stop this foolishness.”

  He finished by making the sign of the cross reverently bowing his head then placing his hand on the lump under his shirt. I on the other hand blinked skeptically.

  “One of God’s messengers,” I asked.

  “An angel,” he replied, “One of our Father’s messengers,”

  “What did he look like?”

  Adrianna inched closer to us intrigued no doubt by the topic of conversation.

  “He had a long white beard tucked into a golden sash round his middle. He was dressed all in blue carrying a long wooden staff.”

  “A long white beard?” I said aloud as realization dawned.

  “Yes,” Wilmar continued.

  Merlin not only stopped Wilmar’s attack but he also projected his image into his head to calm him down. That took a huge amount of skill and effort with magic to accomplish that. I was fairly certain that Barnabas couldn’t have done that and he is one of the more powerful Wizards I know. Merlin had not only been a big help to me in recent days, he has effectively saved my life twice.

  “Thank you for your help,” I thought as respectfully as I could. In reply I heard a satisfied, “You are welcome.”

  Wilmar and Adrianna helped me onto my unsteady legs. Race and Bart were up moving albeit slowly over to where we stood. Wilmar pulled a cloth from his coat pocket pressing it to my nose.

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully.

  I glanced over to Adrianna.

  “This blood isn’t bothering you is it,” I asked.

  She shifted her weight onto one hip obviously insulted by my question.

  “I’m over a thousand years old Sol, it’d take significantly more than a few drops of blood from you to send me into a feeding frenzy. If that were the case I would have sucked you dry in my office,” She said in a wry tone.

  It didn’t take lo
ng for that childish side of my brain to key in on the more important words she’d said. Which caused a smile to erupt on my face. However, I decided to keep my childish sexual innuendos to myself.

  I cleared my throat letting the smile fade, as my eyes moved to my would-be rescuers. They looked more focused now, both glaring petulantly in Wilmar’s direction. He appeared to be completely unfazed by the daggers they were casting in his direction. He did after all take a measure of them both, finding them wanting.

  “Guys I would suggest you just calm down,” I said admonishingly.

  “I’d like for you all to meet Wilmar,” I said gesturing at the man in question.

  “I don’t know if he’s a friend just yet, but he is at least an ally and he saved my life. So I want you to show him the respect that you would show me.” Then I added.

  “Otherwise, I’m going to sit down over there on that uprooted tree trunk and watch him kick your asses,”