by Steve Curry
He struck such a heroic and proud pose that I just couldn’t stand it. With a shrug, I raised the pistol and put a cool half dozen rounds into his chest and the mummified mask he wore. I almost expected the result.
Achilles stumbled back and roared a curse before ripping the now tattered mask down around his neck. “A hundred different faces have I worn. Kings and queens and presidents have heard my voice in their ear and brought the world to a moment when I might put my hands on treasures and mysteries from so far in ancient prehistory that most scoff at even the names. Yet you expect to stop me with a few pitiful shots from a mundane modern weapon? Your firearms are like straw to me. I can heal this flesh package with a thought. It will only fail when I find a new package that I prefer. Perhaps something like this shapely young girl? After all, I only need a little of the blood.”
A cruel laugh accompanied his slice down Elena’s wrist to splash her blood into a cup on the side of the wall. As if on greased tracks, the wall parted in the middle and slid open to reveal a room that looked more like an army quartermaster’s storage than an ancient cavern. Rows of shelves towered opposite racks and cases that contained things that looked like everything from a fantasy gaming spear to a biotech suit and helmet.
Achilles, or whatever was wearing Achilles, turned with widespread arms and a deep breath of satisfaction. That seemed like the perfect time to try and disappoint him. I grabbed the tomahawk from my back and shouted an ululating cry to power more runes than I had ever attempted before.
Desperation gave me fuel for that willpower. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, or where it came from. But I knew I didn’t want this Mr. Mysterious Asshat to have whatever he was looking for. I triggered runes in my legs to enhance my leap. The muscles seemed to be tearing. I had no doubt that there would be a physical price to pay for what I had done. Some things come with a cost though.
A second surge of willpower and personal energy channeled whatever had been stored with the Thurisaz and Kenaz runes. Lightning crackles and flames licked over the axehead in tendrils of blue, white, scarlet and gold.
The Achilles guest creature sensed my attack at the last minute. He spun and lifted a hand to bring up some sort of ward or shield of his own. Thunder crashed and lightning spat, flames detonated to spread around the evil villain to the wall beside his impossible automatic door. Soot-blackened and charred feathers exploded in a spray of blinding color and fluff.
Whatever he did was at least partially effective. When the shock of my explosive attack started to clear, I could see what damage was done. A wooden case flickered with sparks where it had burst open and tried to catch fire. One whole section of shelf fell with a crash.
The Achilles puppet though stood back up from where he sprawled a dozen yards away. His costume smoked and gaped to reveal reddened flesh beneath. Whatever protection he had, might have kept him alive but they hadn’t stopped the unpredictable energy added with the rune of Thor’s hammer and chaotic Jotun or giant power.
I found myself bellowing in a roar that fitted a name like StromBjorn, the storm bear. “Dthu tapar! Gefast upp!”
In retrospect, I might have gone with English. But “You Lose! Give up!” seems a pretty easy concept to convey, particularly when pointing a weapon sheathed in flames and lightning.
He probably understood me because he yelled back what I suspect was a centuries-old version of “Bite me small fry.” His language was as incomprehensible to me as mine must have been to him. His gesture, however, was clear.
He produced his own silenced pistol and pointed it at Elena where she had been thrown several yards back from the arsenal opening. He learned quickly too. This time his challenge was in plain English. “Move again and I splatter her brains on the stone. Without her living blood, this door remains open and all of these things are released to whoever finds them first. Let me assure you that there are things in here that would not be safe in any hands in the entire world.”
I barely dared to breathe. It wasn’t so much the threat of releasing doom and mayhem. I’d seen mayhem advertised a time or two before. It was usually horrific, but I wasn’t convinced it was apocalyptic. We had failed to destroy mother earth so far despite some pretty concentrated and sometimes stupid efforts in that direction.
My dilemma was the girl. She had been the main reason I was down in this cave to begin with. Alright, maybe there was a little grudge to settle for Pedro too. But mostly it was the girl, or the mission, maybe. Hel maybe I wasn’t even sure why I was down there at all. I didn’t intend to see a sweet fairly innocent girl slain for nothing more than the blood that had flown to her from an ancestor in the dawn of time.
“So where’s that leave us, Senor old and ugly?” Maybe I could just make him mad enough to empty the mag into me. It looked like one of the sleek concealed carry pieces. Probably didn’t have more than six or seven rounds in it. There was at least a decent chance that I might survive anything but a headshot or a couple in my ticker.
He seemed confident of the situation though, while his gun was on the young lady. He sneered around his reply. “Take her and leave. By the time you can return I will have what I need from in here. Given thirty seconds I don’t think you could stop me with the whole of your Yankee spy agency behind you. So take her and go.”
I hadn’t forgotten what he’d said about leaving the chamber open though. “Yea? And leave the door open to Pandora’s sweater closet there? That doesn’t seem like a great trade to me. What’s your second offer?”
“Child! Idiot meat monkey!” His color really did interesting things when he got mad and started to spray some of Achilles’ spittle around. “You only live at my whim! Take the girl and go before I decide you are a better mask than this sheath I now wear. If you are worried about the chamber then have some bombs dropped down the hole or something. They should at least close the tunnel even if they can’t damage walls built by ancients more powerful than your wildest imaginings.”
“Don’t listen to him Mouse.” The voice was familiar, but the accent softer and more refined. Pedro Perro stepped out of the shadows of the tunnel behind me.
His brains and blood still stained the shirt and dapper leather jacket. Other than that, there was no sign of the wound that had consumed a quarter of his head just minutes ago. All I could do was stare. He wasn’t Einherjar. I could feel an unknown aura around him now. In fact, if I looked out of the corner of my eyes he even glowed with a very faint sparkle of warring vibrant colors.
Noting my deer in the headlights pose, a little of my old smuggler peeked out. The irascible rogue grinned his crooked smile. “You didn’t think you had a monopoly, did you? There are more things in Heaven and Earth Horatio…”
He turned back to the other stunned and unmoving figure in the cavern. Achilles’ spirit kidnapper glared back with a hint of his own confusion. “How? I killed you myself.”
Pedro let out a tired sounding chuckle. “Says the guy that claims to be a thousand years old and able to move from one body to the next. By the way are you demonic? Fallen angel? Maybe something from the middle east or the Hebrews?”
With another of his weary laughs, Pedro Perro shrugged off his own question. “No matter. Hell vato. I told you. I told all of you. Even thick old Mouse over there. Didn’t I tell you I was a Coyote? Okay maybe just Coyote, or if you prefer, The Coyote. Sometimes the Crow called me Old Man Coyote or the First Maker.”
While he talked, Coyote walked closer to the exposed storehouse. His movements were easy and casual and he held his hands out empty and plain to see. “You two aren’t all that special. I been around for longer than both of you put together.”
Pedro Perro, Peter Dog, the God Coyote, shrugged and smirked again as he leaned on the wall just beside the opening and the offering bowl that required Elena’s royal blood. “Even her people knew me, back in the before times, when I still danced with maidens and snuck into the bedchambers of queens and princesses.”
He turned and winked at
me where Achilles couldn’t see. At his wink, I felt the power-wrapped weapon in my hand twist and change. Instead of my modern sleek tactical tomahawk. I held the venerable museum piece he had given me near the border. Bone, wood, copper, and feathers were all stained with various dyes and rough stick figures.
Though I could no longer see the flames and electrical energy on my weapon, I could feel a deep thrum and pull as if the earth itself pushed awareness and purpose into my hand.
“Come to think of it, maybe that royal blood came from me instead of those ancients.” Coyote reached behind him blindly. I threw the tomahawk even before he began that move. Copper blade and immortal flesh met a scant foot from the bowl. Dark, thick spools of blood splashed out and along the wall. A small portion, perhaps a few ounces at most, splashed into that stone bowl as Coyote threw himself on the fallen angel or whatever it was that possessed Achilles. Both went down with a haunting supernatural scream of fury, fear, and denial ripped from one of their throats. The hiss of those invulnerable ancient doors shutting cut the sound off as if it had never been.
18
The earth began to shake, at first gently. That didn’t bode well for people trapped down in a new and rough excavation. Elena barely gasped when I jerked her up and tossed her over a shoulder. “Hold your wrist above the wound. Use your other hand and hold as tight as you can. It would be pure Hel if you bled out after all the effort that went into saving you.”
We made it halfway back up the tunnel before Franco and Luis met us on their way in. They were smart cookies though. When they saw me running with the girl in tow, both hardened gunmen paled and turned to race ahead of us. At the entrance, we all stopped.
Luis and I stood with our hands at the small of our backs and drew deep breaths to steady our heart rate and nerves. Franco all but fell to the ground to gasp in large volumes of air himself.
I found myself watching the gunrunner while unworthy speculations bounced inside my head. I wanted to trust him. But a treasure trove like we’d found? It was worth a fortune and he seemed a perfect mercenary these days. For that matter could I trust Heather and Luis not to run off and tell the Odin and the other Aesir where to find some doomsday level weapons?
“Magnus!” A sobbing cry caught my attention and forestalled that decision. I don’t remember running to meet her. It had to be me though, Maureen couldn’t do any running from where she was lying on a makeshift stretcher with stained bandages on what must have been fresh gunshot wounds. I didn’t lift her, though my arms went around the lady who tied my guts in knots.
“Maureen! What in the nine worlds are you doing here?” I barely whispered the question but she heard it.
“Those idiot nephews of Guillermo. They tried to kidnap me when I asked for a ride to fetch the car back.” She winced and had to catch her breath as my arms tightened both in concern and anger. I knew two boys that would do very well to avoid any place where I might accidentally show up.
When she caught her breath my lady love continued, “When they found out I wasn’t a real American doctor with millions of dollars they changed plans. Would you believe I was given as a gift? They sold your damned dog to some Cartel guys for pit fights, and when the drug lords commented on my red hair, I was given away to curry favor for the little snots.”
I kissed Maureen and straightened her hair before lifting the thin blanket to survey some of the damage. At least two bullets were somewhere inside her. There was probably some intestinal damage and internal bleeding. Depending on the angle they might have nicked a liver or gallbladder. As much juice as I had slung already, I doubted I could heal a hangnail of my own much less serious damage on another person.
“This isn’t horrible elsket, but it ain’t good.” I wasn’t going to lie, but I wasn’t going to tell her anything to drop her morale either. “If I had a fraction of my own power right now I’d see what I could do.”
I swayed and almost fell against her. After a steadying breath, I looked her in the eyes and frowned along with a sigh of regret. “You’re going to need a hospital.”
Looking around showed me others in sorry shape. There was everything from more bullet wounds to long term malnutrition and neglect. “We’ll get some people down here. A little humanitarian aid. But we can’t let them see what’s down that tunnel.”
Maureen’s questioning gaze and a skeptical eyebrow demanded answers. I gave them to her. I gave her all the answers I could about the current situation. Maybe there wasn’t every little detail about my own past. Then again I didn’t know that many details about my past. I gave her some of it though. Mostly I tried to explain how dangerous I thought the newly revealed chamber might be if anyone ever discovered it again.
Throughout my story, Maureen listened wide-eyed. She didn’t reject any of it though. Maybe she had doubts but she heard me out. Finally, it was her turn to comment.
“Magnus Gustaveson. You go close that tunnel. Close the tunnel and then get away from here. Some of the captives are already using radios out of the criminal’s vehicles. Who knows when officials might show up. You need to deal with that cave and then vanish before someone starts asking questions about undocumented Americans and prison escapes.”
I tried to argue with her but she shushed me with a gentle kiss and a caress of my cheek. “Nae, my bonny lad. You do what you ought. I’ll be fine. There are enough Americans in this lot that we’ll all be fine. Someone even said they could reach the embassy and have all non-citizen names recorded just to avoid any “accidents” to shut up witnesses. She said they might have UN troops here to help evacuate us all if her husband can arrange it. It’s some kind of ambassador or politician he is.”
Franco tapped me on the shoulder with an almost apologetic smile. “Mon ami, she is quite correct. I heard the other Mademoiselle on the satellite phone. Troops should be arriving within the half-hour. If you would trust an old brother in arms, I will guarantee her safety. If we still had the explosive I could insure that the tunnel would take years to open if it was ever possible. It is but modesty that prevents me from saying I could open one of the magma tunnels underneath us and flood the whole thing with an impossible barrier. Had I my explosives of course.”
I didn’t want to trust him, particularly with a young and vibrantly beautiful woman. The sincerity in his voice was inescapable on that subject though. The rest might be questionable, but I had no doubt that he would die before he allowed harm to Maureen now.
Something else he had said begged for my attention though. “Magma tunnels? How close?”
Franco gave me a blank look for a minute. “Close. I do not know the exact direction or how many meters. I just know that Achille’s engineers were arguing about the route when I delivered the Russian machine guns for their towers.”
One of the few remaining bad guys cleared his voice from where they were sitting with their hands tied. Luis was standing over a few of them. This time however he was the guard and they were the prisoners. He certainly seemed to handle a battle rifle with poise and confidence, and maybe a teaspoon of relish. He quirked a questioning expression at me, which got a nod of agreement.
Luis helped the suddenly helpful cartel merc to his feet and pointed the fellow at us without bothering to remove his handcuffs. They were probably the very same handcuffs that were missing from his belt pouch.
“Hey, this wasn’t anything personal.” The guy spoke perfectly accented midwest Americana. “It was just a paid gig. Now it’s gone south. I never hurt any of these people or even knew about them. We were just perimeter guards. If you let us go, I’ll show you where they kept their survey maps and excavation records.”
Maureen regarded him with narrowed eyes. “He’s a proper scoundrel, but we never saw him down by the cells. I’d have to say he’s most likely being truthful mo chroi. The local authorities are likely to stretch out any of these fellows and blame the Americans for the whole brouhaha if they catch those fellows down here. I say take his help and let him go. But what are yo
u able to do with some old maps and ye can barely stand on your own two feet? again I might add. It’s almost as bad as the last time I had to find you and patch everything back together.”
I had to think about it, but not too long. The truth is, these guys were no better or worse than I have been. They used certain skills professionally and were paid for their services. The fact that those services were sometimes repugnant to the very people you helped, or even the people you had protected while learning those skills, didn’t matter that much to me. I’d been in his shoes. Of course, our valkyrie generally insured we weren’t ever captured, but there had been rare incidents.
“You’ve got a deal. Show me those records and then you guys get out of here. No weapons. Take one of the cargo trucks and make yourself scarce. Maybe you can find enough spare clothes to look like workers or something instead of a bad recasting of the dirty dozen.”
I forestalled him with a raised hand when the merc started to introduce himself, a real rookie mistake. “Nope, no names. Just do your side of the bargain and get out of here.”
Maybe ten minutes later those of us with immortal or at least semi-immoral natures were standing maybe thirty yards from the excavated tunnel. Here there was another half-carved hole that led down at a different angle. Warm and foul-smelling gasses wafted out of the hole.
“It’s not poisonous, just rank with sulfur and maybe some methane. El Patrone had some scientists check it to reassure his men.” The unidentified merc took a step back. Whether it was the stench, uncertainty about El Patrone and his scientists, or just a hurry to get out ahead of the authorities wasn’t certain.
“Go ahead and get out of here. If you want to help finish loading those last stretchers onto trucks you could do that. Just leave room in each vehicle for medical folks to get in and work. I think everyone is stable enough to transport as far as Mexico city though.” I barely finished talking before he turned on a heel and darted away.
