by A. L. Knorr
“He didn’t take it well.” I said, feeling a little bit of the cold creeping in. The wind was picking up. “Said he was coming for me.”
The muscles enfolding me quickened, ridges of indignation flexing. Muscular strength would be useless against Ninurta, but right now, holding me like he was, it was a kind of magic to soothe my soul.
“Things are about to get worse, aren’t they?” Concern thickened his voice.
“Much worse, at least for me.” Ninurta had promised to come for me.
There was a long pause, only his steady breathing and the wind broke the silence.
“You aren’t alone,” Marcus whispered in to the nape of my neck. “Please, remember that.”
I looked out over my beautiful city and envisioned the kind of ruin Ninurta could bring to the glittering, metal-boned landscape. I saw the Gherkin folding in on itself as people screamed and fled, the Shard bifurcating to plunge like two titanic blades on the wailing masses. Death, chaos and ruin to appease the mad narcissist.
I could see the truth of what needed to happen. For a guardian there was no other choice.
“I’m not alone right now. And that’s enough.”
---
“I need to face Ninurta on my own.”
I sat in Marks’ office with Stewart, both of us cleaned up but looking the worse for wear. Stewart’s eyes were haunted, and his craggy face seemed gaunt. I looked even worse. We’d concluded the debrief; Stewart had filled in the missing pieces about separating me from Sark after we plummeted to earth, while I explained about the dreamscape. Now we were discussing the next step.
“Is this some sort of warrior code, soldier’s honour, nonsense?” Marks turned a withering look on Stewart.
The sergeant gave me a side-long glance as he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.
“I dinna think that’s the case, mum. I ken Ms Bashir’s reason, though god knows it hurts me. She wants to do this on her own because … well, because we’re no use to her in this fight.”
It felt wrong to nod my head at an admission that probably cost Stewart more than I could appreciate, but it was true. I mouthed thank you as Marks spun away to prowl around her desk.
Stewart gave me a short nod, his eyes soft. The soldier finally understood our respective places in this fight.
“I don’t invest so much in an asset just to let that asset engage in a suicide mission,” Marks remarked coolly, turning her gaze to me. “I didn’t get this far wasting resources.”
It was chilling to realise that was how Marks saw me: an asset, a resource. I supposed she had to view people like that to keep from being crippled by the emotional turmoil of making tough decisions, but still … damn.
“We need to limit the damage,” I explained. “If Ninurta comes for me while I’m in London, he’ll bring carnage on an incredible scale and there will be nothing any weapons can do. In fact our weapons would only become fodder for his assault. I need to be somewhere he won’t be able to hurt anyone but me.”
Marks frowned, arms crossed, tapping manicured nails on her silver-grey jacket.
“Do you really believe he’d be that reckless?” she asked. “Would he disregard the secrecy so valuable in this business?”
“This isn’t business to Ninurta.” I leaned forward to emphasise my point. “This is destiny. He’s not going to be subtle. He once ruled the world, or close to it, and he plans to do so again. He doesn’t care about secrecy because he plans for the majority of the population not to be here anymore.”
Marks blinked, paling. “And how exactly is he going to do that?”
I took a deep breath, knowing that this part wasn’t going to be easy to swallow.
“Ninurta plans to somehow harness the power of his many descendants to affect the earth’s metal core. The incredible destruction will jump-start a contest for survival. The winners of that contest, superior humans, in his eyes, will be the foundation of his new empire.”
“These are the ravings of a madman,” Marks said with a shake of her head. “I need actual intelligence.”
“Insane or not, it would be stupid to underestimate both his conviction and his power.”
“And facing him alone doesn’t strike you as underestimating your opponent?” Marks asked, cocking one eyebrow. “This isn’t some spaghetti western where good and evil square off to decide the fate of the common folk.”
“I’m not doing this because I think I can beat him,” I answered, folding my hands in my lap so she couldn’t see my fingers tremble. “This is about damage control, pure and simple. Every minute he spends focused on me is time you can use to secure as many Inconquo as you can. If we can keep them out of his grip, maybe we can stop him.”
“You were the way to stop him!” Marks’s face scrunched into a snarl. “You are the weapon we were supposed to wield against him!”
Marks’ words cut, but I wouldn’t let her see that. She hadn’t met Ninurta, she had no idea what we were facing.
“I am not enough.” I replied, my voice quiet. “For better or apocalyptic worse, I’m a shield, a guardian, not a weapon. That may not be enough to stop Ninurta, but I can slow him down, so that is what intend to do.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed together into a tight line.
“I could stop you.” She spoke so softly that I struggled to hear her. “Detain you until I found some way to encourage your compliance.”
My hackles rose; a rush of anxious, violent energy drove me out of my seat, to stand eye-to-eye, matching the older woman’s glare.
“Steady now, Bashir,” Stewart warned.
The Rings quickened in my hand, responding to my heightened emotions. I ground my teeth and set my jaw against a hundred angry words that ran circuits in my mind.
“You could,” I said, carefully forming each word. “But that would be a waste of the limited time and resources you have. If you try to keep me here you are calling destruction down upon London. Let me go and I can give you time. You have several brilliant strategic minds here at TNC, employ them in the time that I’ll make for you.”
Marks stared at me for several agonising seconds. I waited, somehow feeling that was improper to look to Stewart for a sign.
“We have access to Otterburn in Northumberland.” Marks’ shoulders sagged a little, her voice worn and brittle. “We’ll arrange transport and put the word out that you are training there. It is secluded. I don’t imagine you’ll have to be up there for long if Ninurta is as hot on your heels as you say he is.”
“Thank you.” It seemed an odd thing to say to someone letting you go on a suicide mission, but I was thankful for her acceptance.
“Don’t thank me.” She waved a hand. “I’m just being pragmatic.”
I nodded, feeling a pang of pity for the defeated tone in her voice.
“What is Otterburn?” I asked. “A game reserve or national park?”
“It’s an ATE, Army Training Estate,” Stewart said as he heaved himself out of his chair. “Sees regular use by the military, but I’m sure Marks can pull the strings necessary to see you’re not disturbed.”
Marks didn’t bother to comment. She’d swung her chair to look out the window, putting her back to us.
“Could you give me a map and details of the layout?” I asked.
Stewart nodded and motioned toward the door.
“I’ll make sure you’re as briefed as you can be, dinna worry aboot that.”
Stewart and I moved toward the office door.
“Ibby.” Marks called while still facing her window.
I paused, one hand on the doorknob. “Yes, ma’am?”
Marks drew in a breath, squaring and straightening her shoulders. She turned to face me and her voice was as clear as the first day I’d met her.
“Make the bastard work for it.”
---
Marcus thumped his bag down next to mine. “I’m coming.”
Gritting my teeth as I rammed the last of my clothes into a ru
cksack TNC had issued me, I sent a glare his way. I had known this was coming. I wanted to both hug and throttle him for it.
“What’s next, you going to offer my uncle ten goatskins for me to have your babies?”
Marcus leaned against the wall and smirked.
“We won’t live long enough for that,” he remarked dryly. “But if we somehow make it that far, I’ll start the negotiations at twelve goatskins. Exorbitant I know, but you’re worth it.”
I growled when the pack refused to close.
“So I suppose you think it’s chivalrous to go behind my back, to get your way?”
“Hardly.” He shrugged. “You get to make plans without talking to anyone; I get to make plans without talking to anyone. It’s called equality.”
The pack finally closed, and I whirled on him. Fear for his life surged around in my stomach, sloshing like too much water. “Isn’t this hard enough, already?”
Marcus’s face softened as he pushed away from the wall.
“I’m not trying to make this harder. I can’t do much to help you, but I can be there for you. So you don’t face this alone.”
Some of the frustration drained out of me, my heart softening. Marcus met me in a hug.
I closed my eyes and replayed my goodbyes to Jackie and Uncle Iry. I’d told them I was going to Otterburn to set a trap for the demigod, but I’d downplayed the danger and hadn’t told them I’d be doing it alone. They thought I’d be going with the usual TNC legion. By the time I’d kissed them goodbye, they still hadn’t known the possibility that we’d never see one another again. I couldn’t have borne the anguish of a true goodbye, so I hadn’t told them about the dreamscape, the true power of the enemy.
I held Marcus close to me. I would never get him to stay behind. He knew too much. He’d stick to me like a burr until I left the building. I’d just have to do my best to protect him. I released him and snatched up my bag. Too much time to think in circumstances like these wasn’t a good thing.
“Let’s go then.”
Thirteen
The first night at Otterburn ATE--a bleak and scruffy plain with the occasional copse of trees and knobby hill--was a sleepless one.
We’d settled in one of the small utility sheds and I tried to explain to Marcus why I wanted to draw Ninurta here.
“I want a level playing field. I’m pretty sure he could rip skyscrapers from the ground to throw at me, but out here he can only use metal on same the scale as myself.”
Marcus looked around the shed, which housed a few dusty toolboxes and a couple of small tractors that looked like they had been old when Margaret Thatcher had been Prime Minister.
“Assuming that he doesn’t bring his own skyscraper to throw at you.”
We lapsed into brooding silence which eventually led to a fitful sleep.
When the sun rose we emerged from the shed, our eyes bloodshot and our shoulders drooping. Birds twittered morning songs, dew glittered on the grass. All was peaceful serenity.
We splashed water on our faces and brushed our teeth using a half cup of water from our supply. I stretched at the open door of the shed, working the kinks out of my back and shoulders from sleeping on a thin mat on the hardpacked dirt floor.
“All is quiet on the western front,” I said, grabbing my foot and stretching out my quad. The rings hugged my fingers, warm and ready for when I’d need them… which appeared to be not as soon as I’d thought.
“I guess he’s not in that big of a rush,” Marcus murmured as he rummaged for a coffeemaker and the necessary sundry in the back of the shed on a makeshift desk. He made coffee using a propane hot-plate and an old-fashioned espresso maker while I wandered the grounds, making note of landscape features and watching for signs of the mad demigod. By the time I returned to the shed, Marcus was waiting with a steaming cup of very strong java. The warmth and the caffeine were both welcome.
“So, are we just going to sit around and wait for him to show up?” Marcus asked, taking a sip from his cracked mug.
I smiled and blew the steam off my own cup. “Not quite.”
I told him what I had in mind.
---
Ninurta arrived the next day, but I was certain of his arrival when I woke that morning.
Our insane scheme was ready, after much sweat and toil. He and I had spent the second night together on two thin camping rolls laid out side by side: his arms around me, my head on his powerful chest, I actually rested, feeling a peace I’d not known in months. When I woke to pale sunlight slanting in through the dusty windows, I spent a perfect moment looking at the man who loved me first and who had proved it over and over.
Until an unwelcome voice intruded on my loving thoughts.
I come for you tonight, little one.
I felt his malignant presence roll in like a black cloud over the face of the new-born sun. A chill ran through me and my shivering woke Marcus.
“What is it?” He came wide awake almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s coming.” I tucked my face against his throat.
Should I thank Ninurta for having the courtesy to warn me so clearly? Was it a rule of his sick game? The fact that I knew when he’d come only filled me with dread. He wanted me to be prepared, I’d put up a better fight that way. He didn’t just want to destroy me and be done with it, he wanted a battle. Fury surged through me and I ground my teeth. I’d give him a battle alright.
Marcus’s whole body tensed and he held me tighter. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“You’re ready.” Marcus kissed my head and didn’t question how I knew, just believed me. Oh how I loved him for that. “We’re ready.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
---
Snow fell that afternoon and the night was bitterly cold, but the ground was bright with reflected moonlight.
Ninurta came out of the east like an ill wind of ancient texts, but instead of riding upon storm clouds, he came in a large black helicopter. I was a little disappointed given the build-up. At least he could have leaped out of the helicopter mid-air to land in some dramatic pose.
I gave my metallic wings a little flex. I’d expanded on the impromptu idea from Spain by adding a second set. All four were folded on my back, looking like an odd backpack.
The first passenger to emerge was not Ninurta, but a heavyset man wearing what looked like an electrician’s utility coveralls. After him came a petite woman in fashionable but weather-inappropriate top and slacks. Half a dozen others emerged: men and women of varying sizes, shapes, and colours. All had the same expression of rapture on their faces, zealous and terrified.
They formed a rough column by the open door of the helicopter, each one turning to stare eagerly back the way they’d come. A large shape loomed in the opening, and a tremble raced up my legs; it took everything I had to force it down.
Ninurta was immense beyond what seemed humanly possible, towering over his entourage. Like in the dream, he moved with unnatural grace, stepping onto the ground so lightly I was surprised he left prints in the snow.
But not everything was the same as the dream.
The open chested robes and silken train had been replaced by a dark suit cut to accentuate every brutal and majestic angle of his frame. His hair and beard were much shorter, still glossy and luxuriant but without gold or silver adornments; however, his two fingers still glittered solid gold. He looked ready to run a board meeting. Treading through the snow, every movement was confidence and authority.
“Took you long enough,” I shouted over the dying helicopter engines.
“You may be in a hurry to die,” Ninurta said, his voice carrying perfectly without needing to be raised. “But I am in no great rush to end your life, my child. I do this because I must, not because it gives me pleasure.”
I didn’t believe that for a second.
He advanced past his line of ogling admirers, who fell in behind him. I forced my gaze to stay lo
cked on his face. I needed to keep him talking, keep him walking toward me.
“Why bring an entourage?”
Ninurta raised his hand, and they stopped in their tracks. He took another step forward.
“They wanted to be here.” He swept his arm back toward them. “These are a few of those who did not turn down my invitation. They wished to bear witness to my judgement, yes, but also to show you that they serve of their own free will.”
I scoffed openly, shaking my head before turning my gaze to look at each moon-eyed face. Free will, my arse.
Beyond those I could see, more moved through the fringes unseen, I could sense the metal weapons they held. Those had not been delivered by a helicopter or I would have seen them. Perhaps delivered by a vehicle then, dropped off far enough away that we’d not heard the engines. My senses sharpened and my heart rate jumped but I kept an outward appearance of knowing calm.
“I don’t know what you do to them,” I crossed my arms, “but a bunch of pining groupies isn’t going to convince me that you’re anything but a dime-a-dozen cult leader. You look the part, but you’re still nothing but a conman who’s bought his own line.”
The zealots responded with a chorus of angry, indignant sounds in a several languages and began to shuffle forward.
“Peace,” their idol called over his shoulder, and like he’d cast an enchantment, they went back to adoring him.
“You talk as one who is holding the moral high ground,” he observed, taking yet another step, “but who goes to train under the watchful eye of four assassins? Did you really think to lure me here so I could fall to cowards shooting from behind bushes and rocks?”
I straightened with surprise, realization sliding through my mind like a razor’s edge. Those moving through the fringes were not his, they were ours. Up until that moment I had believed that TNC had sent me and Marcus up here alone. Marks, in some desperate bid, had sent sharpshooters in hopes of ending this nightmare with a sniper’s bullet. That was annoying and not at all what we’d agreed. She’d only put more people in danger.
