Serve

by Laura Wylde

  In the mouth of the corridor, there was room for him to shape-shift. I felt a rush of air behind me and saw a large, crane-like bird with colors so brilliant they flashed like fire, soar to the ceiling of the corridor, then come swooping down, its talons outstretched. The great claws wrapped over the head of one of the hideous creatures, squeezing it until the blood veins popped. It threw the troll aside like a ragdoll and snatched up another, shredding it alive, the beak ripping at huge chunks of flesh and throwing them aside.

  I continued shooting off rounds at the kneecaps. The trolls were retreating, but still blocking the tunnel entrance. The tunnel we needed to arrive at the main chamber. They didn’t have a problem with leaving behind their wounded. I walked up to one of the cripples, hugging his knees, shrieking, and aimed the muzzle point-blank, blowing his brains out.

  Another dead beast rained down from above. I waded through the mangled bodies, firing continuous rounds. The magazine clicked empty. As I changed the clip, I looked up. The trolls could crawl up the rock walls like lizards! They were mounting higher, higher until they were nearly at the ceiling. I pulled back the bolt, locked it into place, and fired. A troll came tumbling off the wall. I aimed again, my gut twisting and biting at my rib cage. They were swarming up the walls. Five…six…I lost count. Just as I took down one, another climbed higher, until two trolls began to slide along the ceiling. I got one. The other jumped and landed on the back of the phoenix.

  Thaddeus roared and beat his wings, twisting and bucking like a bronco. The troll held on. He did a loop through the air, loosening his rider from its seat, and reached around with his long neck, grasping its foot. He tore it loose and flung it, but just as he had freed himself, another troll jumped on top, then another, driving him down. He disappeared in a sea of monstrous heads and nasty, frog-like bodies. I screamed, “Thaddeus no!”

  Adonis

  We were putting a lot of faith in the boy, but Todd felt it was warranted. I knew that telepathy in young phoenixes was as common as schizophrenia in human youths. It was a phase, that usually, but not always, passed. It had been so long since I was young, I couldn’t remember if I had ever been telepathic or not, so I had to take things at face value. It was easier for Todd. Telepathy was common among leprechauns, elves and fairies. He admitted to having a few experiences himself, although they were usually with family members.

  We were letting Adrien lead the way based on a vision. It seemed I should be more skeptical, but oddly enough, I didn’t feel any real qualms about it. He was completely confident, which isn’t anything new. He’s always confident, partly because he’s a brat that has been pampered and spoiled as the youngest child, partly because he’s nearly always right. The rest of us had centuries of experience, but Adrien had the best computer technology and AI program money could buy and knew just how to use it. However, this confidence had an urgency to it that commanded you to believe him. That was new.

  He never hesitated. He went through the maze as unerringly as a homing pigeon, signaling to cover anything that gleamed as we approached the main chamber. It was deserted, dark, and filled with the sounds of overhead mechanics and the underground gurgle of water. He didn’t need a light. He led us straight to a tunnel without even groping along the walls. As soon as we entered, he slumped against the wall and pressed his face into his fists. His voice came out strained and gritty. “They aren’t far ahead. They’ve started fighting. We’ve got to get to them on time. They’re surrounded.”

  I glanced at Todd, who nodded, then drew in my breath. “How far?”

  “Five or six hundred yards. I can’t be sure. The tunnel twists just ahead, then becomes a mouth. That’s where they’ll be.”

  As we slipped along the narrow path, I began plotting the layout of the land and our best points of intervention in my head. There wasn’t enough room in this corridor for three phoenixes to effectively fly, but the bears could pass through. From Adrien’s description, the mouth had nearly as much flying room as the main chamber. The badgers said they had found an entrance from the other side, but it was small; so small, humans could barely squeeze through. Of all the times for there to be a werewolf alert. I could really use a couple of law-abiding wolves right now.

  Wolves are as misunderstood as bears. Both shapeshifting species are guardians. It’s just that their prime directive is the wilderness, not humans, which is not to say they are inhumane. They aid and assist whenever the victim is an innocent. All this and more passed through my head as we stepped stealthily down what felt like a dark, empty hall, until Adrien took my arm and indicated they were just a few yards beyond where the tunnel turned left. I pulled one of the round metal balls from a pouch at my side and hefted it in my hand. As small as it was, the compact weapon weighed in at four pounds. “Arm yourselves, men,” I whispered.

  Adrien pulled out the dual daggers, his eyes gleaming, his lips pulled back across his teeth. He had never been in a major battle, but the fire for justice burned in him, the fire that drove all phoenixes forward into victory. Todd drew his elven sword high. It sang, a blue-white instrument, sending down its own shaft of light. Todd, in his leprechaun state looked almost as impressive as he did as a phoenix. It was only then that you noticed his slightly elven features. His hair flew back over slightly pointed ears. His merry eyes tilted downward toward the nose, making them look long and narrow. The light reflected off the golden dust that sprinkled around him and elevated him slightly from the ground.

  No longer stealthy, we rushed to the bend in the corridor and burst out into a slightly larger opening. It was crawling with trolls. They scraped along the ground. They slithered up the walls. They swarmed toward us, their hideous mouths grinning, their teeth gnashing.

  I threw one of the balls. It lodged just below the throat of one of the creatures. At first, the troll swatted at it with annoyance, then in a quick panic, realized the ball wasn’t going anywhere. He pulled at it. He rolled on the ground as the razor edges spun, slicing deeper and deeper. I threw another. My aim was off. It slammed into the troll’s chest. It would take longer, but the results would be the same. By the time I had thrown my third ball, the first had returned.

  A thick, nasty body thumped down from the ceiling, onto my shoulders. Grabbing it at midback, I bent and flipped it over before it could deliver its power drive and shoved the newly returned ball into his head. It buzzed away merrily, and I stood up to retrieve the second ball. I caught it and sent it flying out again as a monstrosity leap-frogged through the air to attack Adrien from behind. The ball smashed into the side of the creature’s face. The troll ripped open its own head from temple to jaw trying to remove it.

  Slowly, we began gaining ground, hacking them away from the cave walls, and wading through an endless slush of vicious, squirming bodies. At last, we saw the mouth and beyond it, Tara, shooting woodenly at the legs of the trolls, then walking up and blowing their heads away. I saw something fall and I heard her scream, “Thaddeus! No!”

  It was a sound like no other. The sound you never forget. The sound of losing somebody. My heart pounded as images of my centuries-old friend flashed through my head. My blood boiled. I charged forward blindly, kicking and punching my way through, then saw a glint of blue-white steel. Thaddeus’ elven blade! I threw the three balls randomly and picked up the knife, filled with the red-hot taste for revenge. I swung with it, hacking a bloody path toward my fallen friend.

  The tears began free-falling from my face as I stumbled forward and saw the still, battered form. His wings spread over him and his talons curled as though in agony…or dead. His plumage was covered with blood. Some of the tears fell on his wings and they fluttered. He was alive! More tears fell, tears of relief, and the wings beat weakly. “Can you fly?” I asked.

  A ball returned and I threw it into the mob. When I looked at him again, he was struggling to his feet. “Just clear me enough space to take off. One of my wings is a little bent. I’m going to have to throw a few aerial tricks.”


  “Not a problem,” I promised. I drew back with the knife instinctively, smelling the foul breath before hearing the troll sneaking up behind me. The knife penetrated the stomach and I ripped upwards. “That’s one.”

  We were peeling them back. Adrien was outstanding for a youngster. He was the modern martial artist, which was ironic considering the ancient origins of the martial arts. Todd was like a medieval knight. He swung his elven sword with gallantry, the blue-white light triumphing over the top of a shower of golden dust. Because of the sparkle they bring with them, trolls have an inherent fear of leprechauns, elves and fairies. Some say the golden dust is like an allergen to them, or that the sparkle hurts their eyes. I don’t really know. What I do know is that the trolls fought against Todd far more reluctantly and more timidly than they did against me and Adrien. I have a feeling that it’s just… nobody is faster than a leprechaun with an elven sword. Even to my trained eyes, he was a blur. To the dim-witted trolls, he must have been practically invisible.

  Thaddeus hovered above the ground and acted like he was going to rejoin the fight. He was right. One of his wings was slightly bent. He flew erratically, constantly having to compensate for the tilt. I waved at him. “Go on! Get out of here! Fly back to the main chamber, then run like hell! Go!” Another ball whirled into my hand and I threw it at a troll about to leap from the wall. Thaddeus flew away without argument, his wing tipping downward, his other straining to keep it in balance.

  The trolls that were left were trying to escape. Thundering at my men not to let any of them get away,I threw one more ball, hitting a troll trying to sneak toward the main chamber. Tara was still stalking woodenly up to the wounded and shooting them in the head. I took her by the arm. “It’s over. Let’s go.”

  “No,” she said. “I have one more thing to do. I have some people to rescue.”

  “Tara, we don’t have time. It won’t be long before other trolls discover the massacre. We’ve got to get out and arrange a full raid.”

  She pulled back, jerking her arm loose and looked up into my face defiantly. ‘Not until I free the other cell. I promised them. I made a promise!” She began storming ahead and I followed, protesting. She wheeled around, eyes flashing. She tapped at my chest. “Fifteen minutes. That’s all I need. Fifteen minutes.”

  I stalked after her as she turned and continued to cross the mouth into the next tunnel. “You are the most exasperating woman I’ve ever met.”

  “You might have said that before.”

  “And I meant it!” I quarreled beside her, not at all sure how she managed to reign me in like a snorting stallion, protesting what she wanted to do, but knowing all along I would do it. Her pretty little bottom swished back and forth as she hurried through the tunnel to a large cave containing several cells.

  Two of the cells were empty, but one held four people crouched around what appeared to be a pot of corn mush. They were shoveling it into their mouths with their fingers and looked up in fear when they heard us stop by their door. The dull glaze of prolonged shock fled from their pallid faces when they saw we were humans, not trolls. They started to babble, and I put my finger firmly to my lips. “Quietly. We’re leaving quietly.”

  “The boy,” said a woman as they were filing out. “He isn’t doing well. He wouldn’t eat. All he would do is cry. The trolls came and knocked him senseless a few times.” I followed her shaking finger with my eye and saw a tiny figure huddled in the corner.

  I pushed her impatiently through the cell door. I wasn’t being rude, just showing my disappointment. Their humanity had been broken and they had left the child to perish. The boy pulled at my heartstrings. Reduced to rags, nothing to cover him, he lay quiet and motionless, his hands clasped between his legs. It was only four steps from the door to the corner, but the longest four steps I had ever taken.

  “Is he alive?” Whispered Tara over my shoulder.

  I felt his brow, ran my hands lightly down his fragile ribs and back, checking for broken bones and touched the fragile pulse at his neck and wrists. “Yes. He has a fever. He’s malnourished, but he’s alive.” I picked him up in my arms. “Let’s go.”

  We began hurrying up the corridor, just behind the flight of the four captives. They gasped with terror and clung to each other when we entered the arena of the bloodbath, but we kept them moving, fingers pressed warningly to our lips. Their experience had left them so numb this was just a macabre aftermath that would fade from their minds more quickly than the days they had spent as livestock.

  Emergency rescue services were standing by as we surfaced with our kidnapped victims. I still had the kid with me, bundled up in my jacket. He was breathing shallowly, but evenly. I handed him to a medic who swiftly set him down on a stretcher and placed a breathing mask over his face. Poor little tyke. The plastic mask looked enormous on his pinched, pallid face. His eyes moved under his lids but didn’t open. I brushed back his sandy hair. If he had been left in the stinking stall, with no food or medication, for one more day, he would be dead. Tara had saved him. The bull-headed, tough-talking little woman had saved him. She was all heart.

  Tara! My eyes darted quickly around, trying to locate her. She had herded the four victims into a tight little group and was taking down their names and ages. At the same time, two of the medics were wrapping the traumatized group into thin wool blankets and leading them to the open back doors of an ambulance. Tapping away at her tablet, she climbed into the ambulance with them without once looking up.

  I sniffed. So much for a heroic embrace. It made me miss the old days when women were grateful to be rescued. Well, at least questioning the victims was one task we wouldn’t have to cover. By now, these shattered souls would probably be most grateful if they were handled by humans. They hadn’t seen us shape-shift, but they knew the carnage had not been human caused. Humans have good instincts. You can fool them to a point, but sooner or later, they become suspicious. It was better if my shape-shifting crew stayed as far away from the victims as possible.

  I felt a comforting arm around my shoulders. The doors of the two ambulances closed, the red lights swirled, and the vehicles sped from the park, sirens screaming. “And there she goes,” murmured Todd. “Ai, you’ve got it bad, lad, but we all do. Phoenixes are never attracted to the ordinary. She reminds me of that Irish girl I ran into during the Dublin uprisings. No, no. I didn’t take sides. You know we stay out of politics, but we do have a weakness for the Irish.”

  “Let me guess. You discovered she was IRA and she threatened to cut you up if you don’t cough up your gold.”

  “Know what? She didn’t do that, but she did let me sit in on some slam-bang skirmishes. Maybe I helped a little bit. Not much. Not much. She had her mates to take care of her and didn’t need much more. In the end, however, when things were getting tight, I gave her two gold doubloons to go to America and forget about the revolution.”

  “Did she do it?”

  Todd sighed. “No. She donated it toward the revolution. But she was one of the best. It didn’t matter that she was always in charge. It just didn’t matter.”

  As usual, Adrien was standing to one side of our unmarked vehicle, texting messages into his cell phone. He looked up as we approached. “Henry is on the way to the hospital. He’s collecting all the physical evidence and DNA testing it before surrendering it to normal channels. We don’t want to have to explain troll blood or troll saliva.”

  “We’re missing someone,” I said, scanning the parking lot before getting into the car. “Where’s Thaddeus?”

  Todd yelled shotgun and slid into the passenger seat next to me. “I was getting around to telling you, mate. I just got done talking with the coyote. He said when Thaddeus surfaced, he looked bad. He barely dialed “911”, then passed out on the lawn. When the ambulance arrived, he was regaining consciousness, but still looked pretty beat up. He told them to leave him alone, but they drove him away to the hospital.”

  That was exactly the kind of news I didn’t
want to hear. His medical examination would be so thorough the first time they gave him a blood test, they would practically dissect him. I opened the siren wide as I drove, clearing a panicked path all the way to the hospital.

  Inside was chaos. A velvet roped barrier closed off the entrance on both sides of the floor where the victims were being examined. Guards were stationed next to them, scrutinizing the identity of anyone who wanted to pass through against a list they held in their hands. A lot of people wanted through. Some were the relatives of people still missing, some were just curious, a few were members of the press spouting off about Constitutional rights and their right to know what was happening at Turtle Pond. I let Adrien feed them some drivel about water contamination. He threw in enough scientific formulae, chemical compositions and calculus to keep them all mystified.

  I found Thaddeus in a private room next to the one they had crowded the victims into. He was slapping at a nurse who was trying to take his temperature and blood pressure. “I don’t need your danged attendance,” he growled, tempering his true ferocity by refraining to turn over the bed tray. The nurse was mousy-haired, slightly built and had big, blue, scandalized eyes.

  Her voice was wispy. “Please, Mr. Thaddeus. It’s standard procedure. You were barely conscious when they loaded you onto the ambulance.”

  “I was just sleeping. I would have gotten up soon enough on my own.”

  I strode briskly into the room, flashing my badge. “That will be all, nurse…” I checked her name tag. “Pottle. Officer Thaddeus has a special condition, requiring treatment from his personal physician.” I turned to Thaddeus, stressing each word. “Henry will be with you shortly.”

  He pulled off the strap the nurse was trying to fasten around his arm and planted his feet on the floor. One hairy ankle looked a little swollen, but it was holding his weight. He looked like a balloon figure wearing a hospital gown. “I don’t need a personal physician!” He quarreled, then paused as the implications of what I had said penetrated his fog-covered, paranoid/delusional mind. “Oh, Henry. Henry.” He sat back and modestly clutched the sheet, holding it to his chest. “Yes, I need Henry. I have a rare medical condition. It’s called diacitus. Sort of like diabetes, but it affects the lungs.”