9 Tales From Elsewhere 2

by 9 Tales From Elsewhere

  “It doesn’t sound much worse then the rest of you Nazis,’ said Mac.

  Harpe replied, “Just because I am forced to wear this uniform does not mean I believe in it.’ She sighed, “And to be honest, despite my uncle’s...enthusiasm, I did not believe we would find anything of actual power. All I hoped for was some trinket we could take back to Berlin.”

  “Well, you were wrong,” muttered Jack. “So how did you get away?"

  Harpe smiled thinly. “I ran.” She tapped her head. “One of the reborn warriors nearly to me, but I got away.”

  Jack gestured to the hand-carved subterranean chamber. “What is this...place?”

  Brushing her fingers along the wall, Harpe replied, “A temple dedicated to the cult of Set. Being an outsider in the Egyptian Pantheon, he embraced all those who weren’t native to this land. Their cult was a secretive order spreading their tendrils throughout the ancient world. Its most valued artefact is the one we are in danger from now. The Gauntlet of Set. It was said to endow its bearer with great strength and turn his enemies into his servants.”

  “So why was it never used?” asked Jack.

  Harpe smiled. “Set is a mischievous god even to his supporters, and he did not want it straying too far. Some stories say it corrupted all who wore it. They would go mad long before they left the realm of Egypt. Somehow it always came back here.”

  “So what made you think it was a good bloody idea to dig this thing up again?” asked Mac.

  “They were stories. We didn’t know what was true and was not.” She flashed him a look that reminded him of his old primary school teacher. “That’s why it’s called research, ja?”

  “Well, congratulations,” snapped Mac, “You’ve discovered how we’re going to die.”

  “You should not even be here,” said Harpe. “I...”

  Jack raised his hand and they paused at a dimly lit alcove. “Is there another way out besides the main door?”

  Leaning against the wall, Harpe removed her glasses and started cleaning them. “No. When the gauntlet is on, the doors are controlled by the wearer. Only their death or a command from them will reopen the door.” She looked back at them. “At least that’s what the scrolls say.”

  “How do we get if off him?” asked Jack.

  “Two ways,” replied Elke. “He can remove himself.”

  “Yeah, that’ll happen,” said Mac.

  “Or?” asked Jack.

  “We have to cut off his arm with sword from one of the ancient warriors.”

  Jack stroked his chin. “You don’t mind killing your uncle?”

  Harpe looked down. “Uncle Heinrich brought this on himself.”

  The two men glanced at each other. “You’re a hard woman,” said Mac.

  Harpe’s expression stiffened. “My uncle’s hubris nearly killed me. I’m not inclined to forgive.”

  “You must have a hell of a family,” said Mac. “Now if you don’t mind me asking what good are swords against that thing?”

  “Normal swords?” replied Harpe. “Nothing. But the blades in the main chamber are supposed to have been specially crafted from the same material as the gauntlet. They will protect the user from being converted...probably.”

  “But not from dying?” asked Jack.

  Harpe adjusted her glasses yet again. “Nein.”

  “How would we even get close to him?” asked Mac.

  Harpe bit her lower lip. “I might be able to convince him that I’m still on his side and get close to him. If I take you two in as prisoners.”

  “Hell no,” said Mac.

  “I’m not loving that plan either, old girl,” replied Jack.

  Harpe looked up at the ceiling. “Gott in himmel. You can keep your handguns hidden on you. When we’re close enough we’ll spring. Whoever gets to a sword first uses it.”

  “The two men glanced at each other. “I think I heard something,” said Jack.

  Mac strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anything.

  “Fraulein stay here while we do a quick scout of the area.”

  “Where else would I go?” Harpe raised her hand as they left. “Be careful.”

  “Bit late for that,” replied Jack with grin.

  Jack led him further down the chamber. Finally he stopped at an alcove.

  “Mate, what are we doing?” asked Mac.

  “Can’t exactly talk about Harpe with her standing a foot away,” replied Jack. “ So what do you think?”

  Peering down the darkened chamber, Mac replied, “I still don’t like it.”

  “We have to do something, old boy,” said Jack. “Do you have a better idea?”

  Mac ran a hand through his hair. “Give me a minute.”

  Stroking his forehead, Mac strained his brain for something, anything. A dozen different scenarios ran through his mind and they all ended the same way. “Bloody hell.”

  Finally Jack said, “Well?”

  Mac frowned. “No.” Tightening the grip on his gun he asked, “You really trust her?”

  Jack glanced back. “I don’t think she wants us dead.”

  “I’m more worried she wants us alive,” replied Mac.

  Jack’s face crinkled as if the thought had just occurred to him. “A chance we’ll have to take, old boy.”

  Mac ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, but I get turned into one of those things, I’m coming after you.”

  “I’d be insulted if you didn’t, old boy.”

  Quietly they returned to the alcove where Harpe was waiting, her gun held tightly in her hands. She didn’t say anything, but the relief on her face was clear. “You have made a decision?” she asked.

  Mac looked her over. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

  “You don’t trust me?” asked Harpe.

  “Should we?” replied Mac.

  Harpe tilted her head. “It is a gamble, but you English are good at that, no?”

  Mac replied with a grimace.

  “So, what happens when we get to the chamber?” asked Jack.

  “When we’re close enough, I’ll say I am a loyal servant of Set, then shoot at him with one of your MP40s. You two use the distraction to grab some swords and kill him.”

  Mac snorted. “Gee, you make it sound so easy.”

  Harpe arched an eyebrow. “Have all the real Englishmen died?”

  Mac took a step forward. “I’m from New Zealand, you jerry...”

  Jack moved between them. “Enough. We’ll follow your plan. Right, Sergeant?”

  Mac frowned, “Yeah I suppose.”

  Jack turned to Harpe. “Ready when you are, fraulein. Just be careful where you point that thing.”

  “Wunderbar,” she smiled. "And please call me, Lieutenant Harpe.”

  “Uppity, jerry bitc...”

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “Sergeant.”

  Mac raised his hands as a gesture of peace. Mac made sure the revolver was hidden but still within easy reach. He reluctantly handed over his MP40 to her. She ran her fingers over it like a professional.

  “I see you’ve had practise,” said Mac.

  “I had lessons before we left Germany.” Her expression softened and Mac almost felt sorry for her. “I thought all this would be a lark.”

  Jack’s trademark smile slipped a little. “Everyone thinks that at the start.”

  With Harpe behind them, they began the trek back to the chamber. They had been walking for several minutes when a pair of warriors clad in ancient, armour leapt out from the shadows. They were with inches of killing them when Harpe shouted an archaic sounding tongue. The warriors narrowed their eyes and slowly stepped back. One appeared to be from ancient Greece, his bronze armour gleaming in the electrical light. The other appeared to hail from further north. He was wrapped up in thick leather armour. They looked almost normal except for the bright red of their eyes, which glowed out from their all-encompassing helmets. Still for all their apparent humanity there was a stench of death about them.

 
; One trudged past and took up position behind her. Mac could feel them tracking his every move. Despite the chill in his heart, sweat ran down his face and it was taking all his restraint not to draw his revolver and start blasting away. He got little solace from the fact she looked a bit nervous herself with the beast following close behind her.

  Mac asked, “What did you say?”

  “I told them I was a servant of Set with two converts for his champion.”

  “So what are they doing now?” asked Jack.

  “They’re escorting us to the ceremonial chamber,” said Harpe. “Be ready.”

  No sooner had the word left her mouth then a pair of grey skinned Germans slinked out of the darkness, their eyes glowing red. This plan was looking less and less great, as they walked over the mangled corpses of more unconverted men. There was a stench in the air as their bodies already started to visibly decompose.

  They emerged from the temple complex into the chamber. Blood and bullet holes lined the stonewalls. Mac froze in place until Harpe gently pushed him forward. Molder was seated in the throne up on the dais, looking down on them. His eyes black, his skin greasy and grey. The golden glow of Set’s gauntlet illuminated the room casting eerie shadows. Molder rose from his seat and spoke with gravely voice. “Elke, so nice of you to return. And you have gifts.”

  Harpe bowed her head. “Uncle, I’m sorry for doubting you. I am a loyal servant of Set.”

  The men ducked down while she sprayed the dais with her MP40. While the bullets couldn’t do much damage, Molder still appeared to possess enough humanity to flinch as the gauntlet absorbed most of the bullets.

  Jack and Mac drew their revolvers, firing at several charging converts. Like before, the first few shots went right through them hitting the wall on the other side, barely slowing them down. Mac altered his target and aimed for their kneecaps. The bullets tore through their flesh and they fell to the ground.

  Mac heard a snarl and spun around to see a couple of ancient warriors charging at them. Jack found a MP40 leftover from the opening massacre and fired. The bullets ripped into one dressed as a Roman legionnaire, but he just kept coming until the gun ran dry. Mac drew his revolver and aimed for the Roman’s head. The legionnaire’s head snapped back, he dropped to his knees and fell into a thousand pieces. His companion, some sort of Eastern warrior with a curved sword smashed Mac aside and he flew to the ground. Dazed, Mac saw the warrior pick up Jack by the neck. Mac grabbed his revolver, ran up to the warrior and planted a bullet in his head. The armour cracked open and the body dissolved apart.

  Scooping up their swords, Mac helped Jack to his feet, then, firing as they ran, they dropped behind a collection of statues where Harpe was crouched down. Molder sent blast after blast at them threatening to bring the statue down. Harpe wiped loose hair from her face and looked at him with concern. “You're bleeding.”

  Putting a hand to his forehead, Mac’s fingers came back doused in blood. “If I don’t die in the next few minutes. I’ll get it sorted.”

  Harpe peeked round the side and let off burst of machine gun fire. When she returned she asked, “You have the swords, ja?”

  Mac patted the ground beside him. “We do.”

  Ducking down from a blast from Molder’s gauntlet, he shoved one at her. “I insist ladies first.”

  Harpe simply scowled in reply. Jack got that crazy look in his eyes, the one he always had just before carrying out some mad attack. “You two take out your grenades and cover me. I’ll deal with him.”

  Mac grabbed his sword. “I...”

  Jack shook his head. “I got us into this, old boy. I’ll get us out.”

  Mac wasn’t about to argue. He pulled out one of his grenades and locked eyes with Harpe. “On three.”

  Harpe nodded. “One, two, three.”

  They popped over the side and slung their stick grenades. While they spiralled towards Molder, Jack leapt from their cover, carving a blood-spattered path to Molder with his MP40. Molder caught the grenades and wrapped them in a ball of yellow light. They exploded in front of them, the light expanding into a ball 10 feet across. Jack tossed the MP40 aside, drew his sword and cut his way through the two German converts standing in front of the dais.

  Jack was seconds away from cleaving off Molder’s hand when a sword materialised out of the Gauntlet and he deflected Jack’s blow. He swung his blade nearly taking off Jack’s head.

  “Bugger,” muttered Mac. Realising his the plan to hold back wasn’t happening, he grabbed the other sword lungs, he charged. “You bastard!”

  The distraction was just enough to put Molder off his aim and his thrust missed Jack’s chest. The two men lashed out with their blades but somehow Molder deflected all of their blows. The light around him was weakening but Mac suspected they would weaken before he did. Mac was no swordsman. His technique was limited to hacking wildly in the hope of striking something, anything. The clang of the swords echoed in the chamber. Each strike took a little longer then the last, his arms wavered with each strike and he felt like he was brandishing an iron pole, not a sword.

  Molder kicked out, knocking Jack to the ground. Mac thrust forward. Molder stepped aside and Mac flew forward and knocked into the dais. Mac spun around. Molder stood above him and said, “Enjoy the afterlife.”

  Harpe rammed into her uncle and Molder's blade missed Mac by inches. Twisting around, Molder smashed his arm into Harpe and sent her flying. She smashed into the wall and crumpled to the ground. Jack brought down his blade slicing the gauntlet from Molder’s arm. It fell to the floor with a dull thud.

  There was no sign of pain from Molder. No look of anguish, nor any scream of agony. Molder merely raised his stump and examined the mess of blood and bone as if expecting it to grow back.

  He looked over at Jack who stood there wearily, blood dripping from his blade. He stumbled towards him, hate in his eyes, but his walking got more labored as his skin shrivelled up like a corpse in the sun. Pieces of flesh fell from his face as he crept forward. Finally he stopped, looked over at Harpe and extended his hand. She had taken two steps towards him when he fell to the ground, his bones shattering to dust that swirled around them. Trying not to vomit, Mac whipped the offensive grit from his face.

  “Time to destroy this thing,” said Jack. A burst of bullets went over his head.

  “Leave the gauntlet alone, ja,” said Harpe.

  “I thought we agreed this thing had to be destroyed, old girl,” said Jack.

  Her expression hard, Harpe replied, “We agreed it had to be removed from my Uncle. He was not a worthy acolyte of Set.”

  Jack studied her. “You’ve seen what this bloody thing can do. It’s too dangerous to be in anyone’s hands.”

  Harpe smiled. “The Cult of Set will take good care of it.”

  “And what about us?” asked Jack.

  Harpe pointed her gun to the door. “I need a guide back to Axis lines and you two just volunteered.”

  Mac sprang forward to tackle her. They both went down. Harpe elbowed him in the face. While he clutched his nose she ran for her gun. He dived for his and spun around just in time to see her fire at him. He froze but the pain never arrived.

  “No one move!” yelled Jack. He had put on the gauntlet. A long blade extended from his hand, which Mac guessed had deflected the bullet.

  Harpe took a step back. “You should not have put that on.”

  “You were trying to kill my friend,” his voice cold. “Now lower the gun.”

  Harpe’s eyes flicked from Mac to Jack, but she didn’t move.

  “Now,” repeated Jack, all trace of the easygoing English gentleman gone.

  She slowly placed the gun on the ground. Mac snatched up it. “Good work, mate.” He pointed to the gauntlet. “Now take it off.”

  Jack patted the gauntlet. “No.”

  “Do it,” said Mac.

  Jack looked at him with an expression of glee. “I can see it all, Mac. I can see how to win the war.”

&n
bsp; Mac glanced over at Harpe who was biting her lip and slowly easing back.

  Mac nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Jack. Catch.”

  He tossed a grenade at him. While Jack dealt with the exploding grenade, Mac grabbed Harpe and dragged her to the closest door. There was a large explosion and the two were pitched forward. Dust flowing around him and his ears ringing, Mac picked himself up off the ground. The electric lighting was gone, but there were still some flame torches going. The door had collapsed into a pile of rocks. He shook his head. “Can’t believe the bastard tried to kill me.”

  Adjusting her glasses, Harpe replied, “You did throw a grenade at him.”

  Mac slammed her against a wall. “You want to give me a reason not to kill you?”

  Getting her breath back, Harpe replied, “You...saved me...just to kill me?”

  Mac tightened his grip. “If I’m going to die down here, I might as well get one last piece of satisfaction.”

  Harpe locked eyes with him. “I was just doing my duty as a loyal disciple of Set. Would you do any less?”

  “I would use some bloody common sense, you crazy cow. If you hadn’t been trying to kill me, Jack wouldn’t have put the gauntlet on and we wouldn’t be back to square one.”

  Glaring back at him, Harpe replied, “I was only shooting because you attacked me.”

  “Because you were trying to take us prisoner.”

  Harpe wilted under his gaze. “I will not apologise for my faith,” Then she looked back up. “But we can still save Jack.”

  Mac narrowed his eyes. “You said the only way to remove it was by cutting an arm and when we did that to your uncle he turned to dust."

  “Jack’s only just put it on. If we can get him remove it voluntarily he will be fine...probably.”

  Mac rolled his eyes. “Probably, she says, and how do we do that?”

  Harpe bit her lip. “We must appeal to his humanity.”