“Damn bro, those claw marks?” Asked Caveman pointing to a series of definitive gauges in the shape of extra large talons roughly six feet up on the rock wall to our right.
“Looks it,” replied Coop. “And they ain’t from no anakim.”
“No. No they’re not,” Rooster muttered like he knew something we didn’t.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Stoner asked in an unsettling tone.
“Liderc,” Rooster said blankly with a thousand yard stare. “No mistaking it.”
“Whoa — serious?” Caveman asked tightening the grip on his axe. “There’s a liderc in here? But I thought you were the last —” Realizing he’d said something he probably shouldn’t have, he cut himself off in mid sentence.
“Focus on the task at hand,” Abernethy said, shutting down the conversation. “It matters not, lads.”
Although I didn’t exactly know what a liderc was, I assumed it was an especially nasty type of gothen. And based on Skip’s reaction to Rooster during our ‘visit’ and now this, I was starting to realize that my ginger buddy was one of them. It also seemed to be a topic that wasn’t openly discussed, for what I presumed to be good reason. Figuring it could wait, I continued to trek up the serpentine path on high alert.
A few tense minutes later, we reached the plateau atop the mesa, and there was no mistaking the point of origin was close. The entire place buzzed with a steady current of power — like static electricity only more potent. It actually made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“You feel that?” Stoner asked.
“Yeah,” I solemnly replied. “Where’s it coming from?”
“It’s the electromagnetic field. Caused by the ley lines. They run right through the rock.”
Reading the empty expression on my face, he added, “Ley lines — uninterrupted streams of elemental energy. Spiritual highways. They connect everything to — well, everything else. You know — ley lines.”
Shrugging my shoulders in a ‘no idea’ fashion, he grumbled, “Damn, Robinson. You need to get out more.”
Carefully making our way toward the center of the circular rock shelf, littered with a random collection of boulders, we found Tango crouched behind an outcropping. He was fixated on a group of reddish mountains defining the far horizon. Waiving his hands like we should stay down, we lowered our profiles and inched toward him.
“What is it?” I asked pulling up to his right.
“Not sure. Looks like movement at the base of that mountain. I couldn’t see it from ground level. It’s faint.”
Following the direction of his pointed finger, I gazed across the five or six mile expanse separating us from the mountain range and couldn’t see a damn thing.
“He’s right,” Abernethy confirmed in a hushed tone from behind me. “It’s an encampment.” Grabbing my shoulder, he muttered, “Project your Sight. Tell me what ye see.”
Drawing on the power of the cloak, I shut my eyes for a quick second and focused on the mountains. As I opened them, my Sight raced across the plain like an otherworldly zoom lens locking onto a target. And unfortunately, once it reached the destination and the scene came into focus — I kind of wished I didn’t look.
“Giants,” I declared. “Hundreds of the them. It’s a training area. Looks like that mountain’s a barracks of some sort. There’s a door cut into the base.”
“Anakim HQ,” Rooster muttered. “Time to spin up the Dragonfly and get out of dodge. Twenty-eight minutes until the portal closes. Let’s be there in fifteen.”
“Aye.”
Reaching into the man purse slung across his shoulders that he insisted was a ‘satchel’, Rooster produced the armageddon cube. Creeping toward the center of the plateau, he said to Stoner, “Where do the ley lines intersect?”
Following suit, Stoner systemically tapped his staff on the rock surface until he reached a specific point that seemed to interest him. Muttering a few words in Latin, he tapped the stick again and every glyph carved into the handle instantly flared to life glowing a brilliant white.
“This is the spot,” he announced. “Right here. Let her rip.”
With a calculated look in his eye, Rooster took a knee at ground zero and made two quick twists of the cube.
“It’s armed,” he said. “Once activated, the timer will give us a ten minute head start before things get interesting. Then we have another five minutes — or roughly thereabouts — to get out of here. Everybody ready?”
Not really sure an answer of ‘No’ was appropriate, I nodded in the affirmative as did the rest of the crew.
“Do it,” Abernethy grumbled.
Twisting the Dragonfly device into the final configuration, Rooster placed it squarely on the rock floor and took a cautious step backward. Almost immediately the individual squares began flashing an ominous red in a random yet somehow systematic pattern.
“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Caveman asked raising a bushy eyebrow.
“Yep. It’s running through the timer sequence,” Rooster replied as he turned toward the path to start the trek down the mesa.
“Some of the squares are turning white,” Stoner abruptly pointed out with a hint of concern in his voice. “Why are they turning white?”
“It’s fine,” Rooster said assuredly and with a sharp edge. “One square turns white every ten seconds until the full sequence is completed.”
As the entire crew gave him a skeptical look, he stopped walking and added, “Trust me. We’re good.” He glanced at his stopwatch. “Now, in exactly nine minutes and thirty eight seconds there’ll be a hellaciously loud cracking sound followed by an ungodly plumage of black fire and molten ash. If we’re still standing here when that happens — we have problems. I suggest we leave.”
“Time to go, lads,” Abernethy grumbled. “Let’s move.”
“Same drill back to the portal,” I said. “Stay on high alert. Smoky, you got point.”
“I’m on it,” Tango replied morphing into mystical fog form before completing the sentence.
As the team quickly started to file down the path, we didn’t make it ten feet before a distinct and rather definitive ‘crack’ ripped through the air like a clap of thunder.
“Ah, dudes …” Caveman yelled from the back of the formation with a noticeable quake in his voice. “Hellaciously loud cracking sound …”
Looking over my shoulder to see a raging pillar of black flame shoot hundreds of feet in the air like a really pissed off volcano, I casually muttered, “That was a fast nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds.”
“Yes. Yes it was,” Rooster drolly replied not bothering to look.
“We should probably run now,” I added still gawking at the apocalyptic plume filling the sky.
“That would be a good idea,” he blankly muttered.
“Awesome.”
As an earthy gurgling noise bellowed from the top of the mesa, I broke into a dead sprint with the rest of the team on my heels.
It was right about then that I had the minor epiphany that the overall concept of deploying a world devouring weapon of mass destruction that was stashed in Rooster’s junk drawer for the better part of four hundred years was probably not the best plan we could have come up with. But on the upside, I wasn’t nearly as concerned about the horde of giants anymore.
So, I had that going for me.
Which was nice.
Chapter 34
By the time we’d reached the bottom of the mesa, the entire top portion was a swirling fiery maelstrom of rock and sky steadily twisting its way toward the ground. In the category of ridiculous things I’d witnessed, experienced, or even frigg’n heard about in my short lived supernatural existence — this took the frigg’n cake. No words prevailed to remotely describe what was happening in the backdrop of our miracle mile to the portal.
I actually take that back. The term ‘Holy Fucking Shit’ was probably good enough.
Aligned shoulder to shoulder in a surreal foot r
ace, the crew moved with all the speed and agility we could physically muster. Nearly half way through the grasslands with the pond to our right, we rapidly approached the redwood forest with all hell breaking loose to our rear — quite literally.
“How long do we have, Jackie?” Big A shouted over the harrowing sucking sound of the doomsday vortex.
“Maybe five minutes,” Rooster yelled looking over his shoulder and trying to gauge the progress of the devolution process. “Maybe less …”
Zipping through the formation, Tango transformed from smoky haze into metrosexual with cute hair and kept pace with our mad dash. Having returned from a quick recon of the remaining journey, the look on his face didn’t exactly instill confidence.
“How we looking?” I asked hoping for a shred of good news.
“Couple things,” he yelled. “The good news is that for the moment, we have a clear shot to the portal.”
“What’s the bad news, bro?” Caveman shouted with Little D galloping like a pint sized gazelle by his side.
“Seems we’re not the only ones trying to get there.”
“Anakim?”
“Yep.” He replied.
Looking over my shoulder to find a dust cloud moving through the savannah at unnatural speed on the periphery of the sprawling fallout zone, I yelled, “How many?”
“Not sure,” he shouted back. “All of them?”
“Dagummit,” blurted Coop which I thought was an extremely tame explicative to use given the circumstances.
Reaching the edge of the wood line Abernethy pulled to an unexpected halt. With the mesa now completely obliterated and the earth churning whirlpool of death oozing like an oil slick across the landscape, we followed suit offering him a collective look of confusion.
“You lot keep moving to the portal,” he said with a resolute calmness unsheathing his broadsword. “I’ll be right behind ye.”
“Where the hell are you going?” I yelled over the ear splitting calamity.
“To thin out the herd,” he replied with his gaze fixed on the anakim in the distance.
“No,” I protested. “I’ll go.”
“Nae, laddie. This calls for a more practiced hand.”
Something about the tone of his voice and the hardness in his eyes made it fairly apparent that he planned on making a one way trip.
He was going to sacrifice himself — for the mission — for us.
As a distinct chill raced down my spine and a lump formed in the back of my throat, I held out my hand and said, “Give ‘em hell, sir.”
“Not to worry,” he said in a fatherly tone. “I’ll be giving the bastarts more than that.”
Firmly grasping my forearm, he pulled me in close. Looking me squarely in the eye, he fervently muttered, “Get the lads home, Dean. And close the door behind ye. The anakim must not be granted passage to Earth.”
I nodded.
Without further words, he turned toward the grasslands and faded from sight in three bold steps.
As everyone stood in shock for a quick second, I felt a warm blast of air on our backs accompanied by the violent sucking sound of the armageddon vortex closing in around us. A surge of anger pulsed through me, and I felt the cloak ripple about my shoulders in response.
“Big A doesn’t stand a chance, bro,” Caveman yelled shaking his head.
“He doesn’t plan on coming back,” Rooster coldly muttered as his eyes flashed a blazing red.
“Hell No,” Tango defiantly shouted drawing his kukri knives. “We’re not letting him do this alone.”
“Yes we are,” I sharply replied burying my emotions and focusing on the mission. “We have our orders.”
Turning to the group with a resolute scowl, I coldly barked, “We complete the job. Blow the tether and seal the gate. The only way we’re doing that is to get our sorry asses out of here. Big A’s given us a chance to finish this. We dare not fail.”
After a long second, the team responded with a collection of affirming nods marked with clenched teeth and steely gazes. Leaving Abernethy to a certain death was not something we were prepared to do but given the circumstances — there simply was no alternative.
We had a job to do.
Allowing the anakim army to escape onto the Earth would unleash a catastrophic series of events that would bring mankind to its collective knees.
The decision was easy to make. Despite how any of us felt about it.
This had to end. Now.
“Dean’s right. We finish it,” Rooster announced to the group with a melancholy sternness, lowering his head. “Let’s go.”
With the ground below our feet starting to tremble and the vacuum effect of the vortex steadily slithering to within a few hundred feet of us, we knew what had to be done. Without the need for anymore discussion, we resumed our well conceived plan of running like hell toward the one and only way out.
For the most part, the return trip through the redwood forest was just as uneventful as the first time through. With slight exception, of course, to the thundering sound of swirling fiery destruction and the associated apocalyptic nonsense that accompanied it. Adding to the pucker factor, the devolution process had generated a series of skyscraper-size tornado columns of nightmarish black flame that ominously bounced around the surreal landscape like pin balls ripping everything in their path to absolute shreds. And of course, there was the added pleasure of catching the occasional glimpse of the massive horde of rabid giants racing us to our destination.
Aside from all that, it was rather pleasant.
An excruciatingly long couple minutes later we busted out of the woods. As my eyes quickly scanned the clearing where we’d started this epic misadventure nearly an hour ago, I was elated to see the portal still intact despite the indescribable chaos enveloping its surroundings. The wood line on the far side of the once pristine meadow was a solid wall of black fire and clouds of putrid smoke billowed and swirled throughout the immediate area reducing visibility to almost nothing.
By the grace of God, perhaps literally, we’d arrived in the nick of time.
Realizing we had mere seconds before the gateway to Earth was swept into oblivion, I began to bark the order for everyone to get their sorry asses through the portal — when I felt it. A presence. A dark, dominating presence that made all my senses twitch and the cloak flare with anxious hostility.
We weren’t alone.
As if on cue, the layer of smoke obscuring our view instantly dissipated to reveal two figures casually standing between us and the exit. And as the realization of who they were registered with my adrenaline filled brain, I was overcome with burning anger.
With a smug smile on his face that was clearly visible despite the distance, Azazel triumphantly stood in his white garments condescendingly clapping his hands in a slow, overly exaggerated manner. And next to him was the Skipper all dolled up in a very expensive pinstriped suit, looking like he’d just won the lottery.
“You,” I snarled in a guttural growl fixated on Azazel.
My thoughts instinctively filled with rage. Boundless rage. My mind was dominated by a single, primal purpose — dispense the Wrath. Instantly losing all semblance of self-control, I felt the cloak roar to life and infuse me with a level of power that made every muscle in my body surge and spasm in response. The calmative awareness that I’d previously experienced was magnified a thousand fold, and I launched into uncompromising attack mode with blatant disregard for anything or anyone else around me.
Still clutching the otherworldly shotgun in my left hand, I willed the argent metal gauntlets into being and yanked the spatha from its sheath as I charged at my enemies with supernatural speed and predatory prowess. Covering half the distance in a fraction of a second, I gracefully leapt and impossibly glided through the air while raising the sword in a devastating death blow as I kept the shotgun carefully trained on Azazel’s smarmy face. Before those two sons of bitches even had a chance to blink, I was milliseconds from ending their miserabl
e existence with extreme prejudice.
I felt a dark grin stretch across my face. And it was right about then when it all went to shit. Typical.
Closing in on the unforeseen duo in my fury fueled death dive, I felt like a comet screaming through the atmosphere at the speed of sound. Just as I was about to slam Azazel with a shotgun propelled fireball while simultaneously ripping the sword through Skip’s neck, something rather unexpected happened.
I stopped.
Literally stopped. In mid-air. Frozen. Like somebody hit the damn pause button. Sprawled out in a superman pose roughly six feet above the ground, I just hung there in suspended animation without the ability to move anything. I couldn’t even blink. What the hell?
“Hello, Dean,” said Azazel rather smugly as he stepped away from the tip of the shotgun muzzle mere inches from his face. “Impressive. You have grown stronger than I could have ever imagined. Such the quintessential warrior. So full of anger. And sadly, so incredibly predictable.
“Hey, bossman. Surprised to see me?” said the Skipper with an ear to ear grin. Pulling a sizable glyph-covered knife from the pocket of his jacket, he slowly ran the blade down my cheek, opening a nifty gash. “Funny thing about a good con. You never see it coming until it’s too late.”
Making the mental note to tell Skip to blow me when I regained the ability to speak, I just hung there fuming in a state of pissed off confusion.
Taking a casual look around the apocalypse that used to be his golf course like wonderland, Azazel muttered, “No, no. This simply will not do.”
He snapped his fingers and the deafening sounds of the devolution process instantly ceased. The raging fires, the billowing smoke, the churning earth, the sucking vortex, the tornado columns — stopped. Leaving only pure, dead silence.
Offering me a satisfied wink, he snapped his fingers again and I plummeted to the ground with a healthy thud as he released the unseen force holding me in place.
Unable to break the fall, my face smacked into the charred earth and both the spatha and shotgun tumbled from my grasp. I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my head and my body instantly ached. Without my command, the gauntlets covering my hands and forearms retreated and as did the cloak. Everything went blurry. I could hear Azazel talking but I couldn’t make out the words.
Rise of the Giants: The Guild of Deacons, Book 1 Page 33
