Shepherd's Wolf

by M. Andrew Reid

  A solitary boom shattered the air; rain drifted slowly. Soldiers lowered their weapons. Kate and Ben tumbled off Gabe’s back.

  The wolf staggered and fell. Haymaker swiftly pulled Ben to safety as the great beast collapsed. When Haymaker gently set the boy down, his feet sank into a rapidly expanding pool of dark blood.

  “No…” Kate knelt down and pressed her hands into Gabe’s side. Her hands were quickly soaked in blood that poured out of a neat hole between Gabe’s ribs. “This isn’t right.” Athena dropped beside her, trying to stop the bleeding with a piece of soft cloth that was soon soaked and red.

  Nevaeh raised her hands to the sky, and a beam of light forced its way through the clouds. Gabe was bathed in a golden aura.

  The spell had no effect. Gabe wheezed, struggling to lift his head as blood continued to spill from the wound. Kogan shoved the others aside, falling to his knees. He held up a golden leaf, a long and slender leaf that shimmered in the dim light. He laid it gently on the wound, and held his breath.

  Covered in blood, the leaf fell from Gabe’s flank and floated away on a red stream. Kogan shouted in desperation, “No! Not like this!” He wept. Nevaeh pulled him close, and he sobbed against her side.

  Ben ran his small hands across Gabe’s muzzle, “It’s okay. You can get up. We’re almost there. We can make it. Just get up. …get up.”

  …

  Venom froze in her tracks when the shot rang out. Viper knew that something had happened - the sudden silence was more than enough evidence. Shoving aside any twinge of doubt or regret, he frowned and dug his heels in. Venom whickered and shook her head. He pressed harder, and she stamped her feet.

  Suddenly Venom wheeled; despite Viper’s cries of protest, she galloped to the edge of the gorge. She stopped - inches from the sloped wall of gravel and shale that lead to a clearing far below.

  Viper fought the urge to look down, shutting his eyes. He did not want to see the things below him. Venom whinnied impatiently, prancing dangerously close to the edge. Viper opened his eyes.

  …

  Four tombstones stood alone in the field. There was no glorious mausoleum or shrine for the Valor family; that was not how Vincent Valor Sr. had operated.

  Vince rested his hand on Victor’s head, and messed up his hair. “What do you think, little bro? Can you believe it’s been three years?”

  Victor shook his head. He tried not to think about it. Sometimes he could go for a full day without remembering, or being scared, “I still miss them.”

  “I do, too,” Vince sniffed a little, “but I’ve got you.”

  Victor let his eyes wander to the forest that bordered the field. The forest and field were on his family’s land; most of the things Victor encountered belonged to Vince or to the company. Well, not really belonged to Vince, he was not old enough yet.

  An eagle screeched nearby, Victor watched excitedly as it launched from a tree on the forest’s edge and flapped away into the blue.

  “Look at that,” Vince said. He pointed to the engraving on each tombstone - a golden eagle spreading its wings in a heart of steel. “I wonder if that eagle’s name is Valor.”

  Victor pointed excitedly, “There’s something else in the tree.”

  “Let’s go look.”

  Together they jogged across the field - racing. Vince got there first, craning his neck and shielding his eyes against a bright sun. “Look at that!”

  A large, golden-brown feather was stuck on a branch high above. It shimmered faintly as it moved with the gently swaying branch.

  “I think I can get it,” Vince stepped up to the tree and jumped for a low branch.

  “Don’t, Vince. It’s too high!” Victor pleaded. “Let’s go back.”

  “It will just take a minute,” Vince pulled himself up, and studied his next move.

  …

  A surreal scene unfolded below. Silent Marines enclosed a small group huddled together in the middle of the clearing. Viper held his breath as the group slowly moved back. Laura was the last to move away. She gave Ben a tight squeeze, and drifted to one side.

  Viper desperately sought to avoid looking at the center of that circle. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memories to vanish, and the pain to subside, and the truth to bury itself forever. He nearly succeeded, until he saw Ben’s face.

  He saw a red river running down the gorge, and the boy clutching at his friend. He saw himself beneath a tree, crouched beside his brother. He clutched at the branch - shattered and coated with bright blood - that had stopped Vince’s fall. He was too frightened to do anything other than sob. His brother grinned, “It’s okay buddy. Not your fault; I should have listened to you. I’m sorry. Here.” A shaky hand lifted a golden feather covered in flecks of blood.

  Viper was moving forward. Venom surged beneath him, and vaulted over the edge. Faces from below turned to him in shock, and he realized he was screaming. Anger and guilt poured out of him, uncontrollable. Lightning flared and licked around him. Venom belched dark smoke as she stormed down the slope in an avalanche of gravel and rain.

  Sparks flashed off Viper’s armor. The frightened soldiers were firing a withering barrage, backing away slowly as Venom reached the bottom. Focus burned bright in the dark rain, hurtled with enough force to lift a Marine off his feet and pin him to a rock.

  A bullet found its way beneath the armor at Venom’s throat, and the black horse tumbled. She went down silently, carrying Viper as far as she could with her dying breath.

  Viper rolled and was on his feet. Flame and Frost whirled and danced; no man was fast enough to get away. Viper’s movements, normally smooth and calculated, were wild and erratic. He sprinted after frightened Marines and ran them down like animals. A storm of bullets raged, spattering off of glittering dragonscale in every direction. Soon the axes became so slick with blood that they fell from Viper’s grasp.

  Wild and screaming, he beat three men to death with his fists, pounding them over and over until the bloody ruins vanished in a green cloud. Harsh rain intensified, and the sky darkened. Lightning struck him from above, vaporizing nearby rainwater into clouds of steam. Bolts licked out and engulfed the remaining soldiers. Writhing on the ground in flames, they vanished one by one.

  Viper turned his attention to the hilltop. He glowered at Grave, who was watching in shock from atop his perch.

  Dragonbone boots crunched on wet gravel. Viper charged across the clearing, his eyes burned smoldering holes in the darkness and pierced the distance between him and Grave.

  Grave brought his rifle up, firing hastily. His shot went wide and a small explosion of pebbles spurted from the mud. He fired again, and the bullet dug a groove in Viper’s hip.

  Viper did not flinch. Grave fired again.

  This shot was different. Viper slowed, and stopped running. He wavered slightly, and his hand came up to his chest.

  Blood began seeping from under the dragonscales, running in rivulets down his armor and over his boots. He reeled backward, and turned. Fighting against the glaze of death creeping into his vision, Viper staggered toward the awestruck group huddled around Gabe’s hulking form.

  Every ounce of his will was poured into each step. Blood squished in Viper’s boots with each footfall. His once gleaming armor was painted a dull, dark red. His feathers were torn and bloody, scales were cracked and missing, and his helmet was dented and misshapen. Viper fell to his knees several feet away from Gabe, and crawled the remaining distance.

  The wolf’s breathing was shallow and weak; each heave of his giant ribcage was a little slower and a little lighter than the last. Ben had Gabe’s head in his lap, with his hands squeezed tight around a soft ear.

  Viper inched closer, and reached up to pull a feather from his shattered helmet. He offered it to Ben, “I’m sorry. Here.”

  Gabe whined gently, and slowly moved his head forward. His pink tongue slid out and licked across Viper’s face, warm and gentle. Viper cried, and Ben took the feather from his hand
.

  The rain took on an amber hue, and then blue, and then white. A dark sky heaved and twisted with flashes of eerie light, and it fell. Gaps and tears formed in the fabric of space, and the other players began to vanish. Rocks and boulders melted away. Trees burst into shards of sawdust and shredded leaves. Eventually, all that remained was Viper, Ben, and Gabe. Darkness enveloped them, until a light appeared in the black - light so bright that it was deafening.

  Valor Estates

  Outskirts of Seattle, Washington

  Victor stepped out of the elevator - shaking with fury. His eyes were dull, fixed on a pair of glass doors at the end of a long hall. Outside the doors - a balcony. Sixty feet below the balcony - peace.

  There was no eagle to stop Victor this time. He charged down the long hall, reaching for an invisible goal. There was no dragon to swoop in and pull him back from the brink. The doors were inches away. There was no black horse to rise from the earth and carry him to safety.

  The doors shattered. Victor felt his wrist break against the wood frame; it did not hurt. He sprinted onto the balcony, which overlooked the winding drive to his family’s estate, and he jumped.

  His arms spread wide. Victor was flying. Somewhere above, an eagle screeched. Victor smiled as the pavement rushed up to embrace him.

  Dalton HQ

  Seattle, Washington

  Jimmy shook his head at a slew of graphs, “This is really weird, Dr. Olson. Can you see this?”

  Alex was staring out a window. Buildings city-wide were winking off, and entire blocks were suddenly bathed in shadow. Transformers arced and sputtered with showers of sparks. Streetlamps exploded, peppering nearby cars with bits of glass. Blackouts swept through enormous skyscrapers as if a dark blanket was being thrown across the city. As darkness approached the Dalton Building, lights flickered. Alex shot a glance at the memory stick near his hand. Files were still transferring. He had no idea what had been saved, if anything. The lights flickered again.

  “Stop the transfer! Pull your stick now.” Alex hastily cancelled the transfer of files, and his screen displayed a final completed file: Zephyr.ai.

  Alex clutched the stick in his fist, and the lights went out. Somewhere in the hallway, a breaker box blew out of a utility closet with a smoky flash. Omni was gone.

  Gold Eagle Treatment and Care Center

  Seattle, Washington

  “It’s on the third floor!” a night attendant shouted to the janitor. A fire alarm was blaring somewhere in the hospital. She picked up a phone on her desk, “Phone’s still work. What do you want me to do?”

  “Go ahead and call the fire department. Our automatic system might be out. It’s probably a breaker or an old fuse that popped when the generator kicked on.”

  The janitor absent-mindedly pushed the call button on an elevator, before remembering that elevators were not a wise choice in a potential fire, and they would not work anyway on generator power. Nothing like a power outage and a fire alarm to make an interesting night.

  He ascended flights of stairs as fast as his legs could carry his frame, which he would be the first to admit was a little on the portly side. When reached his destination, the acrid smell of an electrical fire hit his nostrils. He grabbed his radio, “Janice, we have smoke coming from a room up here. Get the orderlies, we need to start moving kids out.”

  The janitor threw open the door. Smoke hung in the air in the small room. He shined his flashlight inside as the smoke drifted into the hallway.

  A bed was hiding behind the thick smoke, a large wheeled bed of the type used for patients that were completely immobile. Smoldering monitoring equipment stood by the bed, and a shattered IV tree lay on the floor.

  “Hello?” The janitor stepped into the room, hacking when metallic smoke filled his lungs. He swept his flashlight to a chart on the bed, revealing the occupant’s name. “Ben? Are you okay? I’m gonna’ wheel you out of here.”

  Thin and shaky, the boy shielded his eyes from the bright light. Weakly, he coughed and turned to face the janitor, “Where’s Gabe?”

  Epilogue

  Olson Memorial Park

  Seattle, Washington

  “Sir?”

  The old man wiped a tear from his eye. “Burruk, I’ve told you a thousand times to stop calling me sir.”

  “Of course sir.”

  The guard had silently slipped from the shadows only moments ago, waiting patiently for the old man to pause. His bright yellow eyes flicked briefly downward. “I need to inform you that the Emperor arrived early. He was hoping you would join him for dinner.”

  The girl held her little brother’s head on her lap, stroking his soft hair. He had fallen asleep long ago, before the sun began to sink. She sat quietly, a mix of emotions welling inside of her. Her eyes were red; she had been unable to avoid getting caught up in the story.

  “I think we’ll finish this later,” the old man said. “Would you like that?”

  The girl nodded. “Can you take him, Burruk?”

  “Of course.” The guard knelt beside her. His gleaming armor moved like oil, and his hands - powered by an energy source somewhere inside his suit - gently lifted her brother.

  With her brow scrunched in confusion, the girl remained seated. Questions burned in her mind - questions that she had never thought to ask. She looked at Burruk, realizing how much he and other Khar resembled the Agilus in her grandfather’s story. Was that really a coincidence? How could it be?

  Burruk noticed her staring and chuckled, “I know what you’re thinking. I remember that nonsense when we arrived. Some of you nutty humans even started a cult over it. Don’t make me laugh while I’m carrying your brother. I’m not an Agilus, I am Khar. I’m real, they are not.”

  “Sorry,” the girl smiled, and pulled herself up with the offered hand.

  The old man stood under his own strength, refusing any help as he propped himself up on his cane. He faced the statue of the wolf and the lamb. A setting sun cast rosy beams on the marble. He sighed, and turned away. On shaky legs he began making his way down the path. He was soon flanked on either side by guards - Khar warriors that towered above him in their powered armor. With their visors down, the guards resembled messengers of death, but the old man knew them all by name.

  In the past, the girl would have ran to the landing pad and jumped in a waiting shuttle so she could message her friends in relative privacy. In the past, she had been forced to spend time with her grandfather under penalty of some severe punishment- such has babysitting her little brother. But that was the past, no matter how recent it was.

  For now, she walked slowly beside the old man as he plodded forward. Her head was bowed in deep thought; finally, she spoke.

  “You tried to kill yourself?”

  The old man nodded, “More than once. It never worked. I don’t think it was a solution to my problems.”

  “I wouldn’t know what it’s like to not have a family,” the girl admitted. “I’m sorry I haven’t listened until now.”

  “If you can believe it - that was a short version.” The old man laughed, “I need to finish, though. Somebody needs to hear the whole thing before… I think it’s a good idea for the Emperor to join me for the rest. He’s part of all this.”

  “He had something to do with this story?” The girl tilted her head back toward the statue, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’ll find out later,” the old man said. “One thing he taught me is that you always have to leave your audience wanting more. He has always loved an audience.”

  The girl giggled despite herself, “I can wait.”

  “Good.” The old man’s steps became perceptibly faster, “Let’s go eat.”

  Valor Estates

  Outskirts of Seattle, Washington

  Later that night - as the girl was drifting off to sleep with visions of dragons, wolves, and her grandfather clad in iridescent armor- a voice startled her into sitting up.

  “Miss.” It was Burruk, “So
rry for frightening you.” He spoke with the clipped, precise accent that was common to nearly all of the Khar.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s late. They are waiting for you.” He flipped the lights on and off rapidly, grinning, “Come with me.”

  She shielded her eyes, “Seriously? Did you need to do that?”

  Burruk laughed - a short forceful bark, “Not really. But it amuses me when you are annoyed.”

  “Fine.” She rolled out of bed, wrapping her blanket around her. Her grandfather always kept it so cold, another reason she hated visiting. Had hated visiting. Now, it was bearably inconvenient.

  Together they made their way down the hall to an elevator. She turned to a set of doors at the end of the long hallway. They had to be the same doors that her grandfather had shattered years ago, jumping off the balcony on the other side. Her footsteps padded quietly on the thick carpet, Burruk’s boots clanked beside her.

  “Do you ever take your armor off?”

  “I think I did once,” Burruk said thoughtfully. Then, he mocked. “What a silly question. Do you ever take your socks off?”

  “Gross!” The girl shook her head, “You are so weird.”

  “Your hairless face is weird.”

  “You’re pretty brave in that armor.”

  Burruk shrugged, “I may be smaller without the armor, but I still have claws. Where are yours?”

  The girl wiggled her fingers menacingly, “Is my grandfather’s story true? Did those things really happen?”

  Burruk shrugged again, “He has no reason to lie to you. I would believe whatever he tells you- he’s always been honest with me”