Paranormal Chaos

by Joshua Roots

  Gol’dath dipped his head with a smile.

  “But as admirable as that accomplishment is,” I continued, “we are grossly outnumbered here. The prudent tactic is to pull back in order to regroup.”

  The king scowled. “The imp mentioned your orders to retreat, but I’m afraid I have to kindly decline. My people don’t run from a fight.”

  “Holding this position is suicide.”

  “We’d rather die than be seen as cowards.”

  “What the hell is with all the stubbornness today?” I asked in exasperation. “Fine, then let me invoke the wisdom of Major General Oliver Smith: ‘We’re not retreating, we’re just advancing in an different direction.’”

  The Troll peered at me. “That’s also rather stupid.”

  “So is waiting for your people to get butchered against a superior force. I spoke with the Council and they’re dispatching Warlocks to the DC node to shore up defenses. The Dwarves are also pulling back to support us, so that will add more troops to the fight. And unlike here, where you’re in an open area, we can take them in the narrow streets. Whittle down their numbers.”

  Gol’dath mulled over the plan. “It’s not the most proactive option,” he said after a moment, “but may work. Very well, I’ll sound the retr—the advancement in a new direction.”

  He nodded to one of his kin who bellowed a long, earsplitting wail. Other Trolls repeated it, the sound echoing into the frigid night. Several wounded warriors staggered through the lines followed by a handful more who had to help one another. Blood dripped from gashes or puncture wounds, splattering on the stone.

  The king waved a hand toward escaping Trolls. “After you, Warlock.”

  I started forward, but paused when he moved in the direction of the fighting. “Wrong way.”

  “Someone must cover your non-retreat.”

  Quinn frowned. “But—”

  “This isn’t my first war, m’lady. The wounded must take priority. The rest of my forces and I will slow the advance of the enemy. Now go. Please.” He signaled a nearby group who came to his side, then trotted toward the open courtyard. More of his able-bodied fighters followed him.

  “Come on, babe,” Quinn whispered, pulling me. I gave Gol’dath, in all his armored glory, a final glance, then we jogged to catch up with Steve, Pip and the growing wave of Trolls. Everyone was bloodied in some way, and the sheer volume of litters of wounded was staggering. Having seen the bodies piled in the courtyard, I couldn’t fathom the casualty rate for our allies.

  Hopefully my plan would more than make up for their losses today.

  Quinn squeezed my hand as we moved through the streets. “Look.”

  I followed her gaze. A dozen civilians of various species and ages passed us going the opposite direction. All were dressed in rusted armor and carrying weapons. A young Satyr with a wicked bow and two quivers strapped to her back saluted us. I nodded back and she smiled.

  “What the hell are they thinking?” I asked as another group passed us.

  “Seems they don’t take kindly to invaders,” Quinn said.

  Steve eyed them approvingly. “More problems for Makha’s troops to worry about.”

  While I agreed with him, the fact remained that many would likely never return from this battle and that knowledge weighed heavily on my heart. The sooner we ended this war, the better. I picked up the pace, weaving through the lines of “non-retreating” Trolls and advancing civilians. The farther we moved from the courtyard, the quieter the night became until the sound of combat was nothing more than a dull memory.

  “How far to our exit?” I asked Steve.

  “Just ahead.”

  We rounded a corner and Steve tore open a large metal door. The air was colder and denser than Tennessee, but the smell was all too familiar. The node of my hometown, in all its grimy glory, was waiting for us.

  We stepped through and were instantly dumped into the frigid streets of the DC Underground. The alleys were buzzing with activity as both paranormals and the Fallen, Skilled people who had fled our society for various reasons, were prepping for war. Windows were being boarded up while clumps of combatants seemed to fill every corner of every street. They sharpened swords or tested bowstrings. Tension radiated from them as they waited for the inevitable.

  Moving as quickly as the wounded would allow, we led the Trolls through the confusing maze of streets. Although I’d spent most of my time in the DC node, many parts were still unfamiliar. Thankfully, Steve kept us pointed in the right direction.

  Eventually we reached alleyways I recognized and I was more than pleased to see a long line of barricades. A Mage shouted at us from a makeshift guard tower and we picked up the pace. As we neared the compound, large doors opened, allowing us inside. We sprinted through the gates with the Trolls hot on our heels. Once everyone was safe and sound, the doors closed, sealing off the outside world with a loud bang and a buzz of magical power.

  I gasped for breath, winded from our trek. As I heaved, I scanned the area. The compound was situated outside the worn, sagging exterior of Millie’s diner. Normally a place for great food and sanctuary from the cold, it had been transformed into a temporary headquarters for the slapdash allied fort. The inside of the compound was packed with Skilled and paranormals alike. Dwarves, Satyrs, Fae and even the hummingbird-like Pixies all buzzed back and forth, passing orders or swapping guard positions. There were even a few Centaurs in the mix. Based on their outfits, mostly jeans and cashmere sweaters, I could only assume they were local civilians.

  Steve nodded with approval. “Quite an eclectic army.”

  A robed figure exited the front door of Millie’s. “Thanks. It was the best we could do on short notice.”

  I blinked in surprise as Jethrow Wright, the Warlock’s Warlock, limped toward us. He leaned heavily on his staff, but his face was fuller and more colorful than I’d seen in almost a year.

  His smile widened when he saw me. “I was wondering when the cavalry was going to arrive.”

  “Keep waiting,” I replied, then headed toward the building. “Come on. We need to call Elder Devon.”

  Chapter 20

  A Fine War

  “Enraged that Daedalus and Icarus had escaped the Labyrinth, Minos traveled the known world to find them. To ensure the secrets of the great maze stayed locked away forever.”

  —The Legend of Ariadne

  “I am very disheartened to hear about the Trolls.”

  I rubbed my eyes. We’d been on the phone with Devon and General Wells for the better part of a half hour, detailing our experiences since I’d last spoken with him at the Bookworm camp.

  Millie, the plump matron who’d run the little diner for nearly two centuries, refilled my coffee while waitresses decked in poodle skirts and roller skates brought food to everyone. Easily the best place in the Underground for chow, the diner looked like something out of the bobbysocks era, complete with Formica countertops and a jukebox in the corner. Normally packed to the gills with customers, it was unnerving to see it so empty. Still, something about the presence of the owner and her wheeled employees calmed me.

  The coffee helped, too.

  It warmed my hands and I gave her a grateful smile. The day had already fried my nerves, but several cups of her home-roasted blend helped take the edge off. I took a long sip, savoring the heat that trickled into my stomach, then turned back to the sat phone.

  “We all are. Gol’dath is giving Makha one hell of a fight, but we played directly into the hands of a superior tactician.”

  Wells scoffed, which sounded tinny through the sat phone’s small speakers.

  Devon cursed, then asked, “But you’re absolutely positive the Bookworm library is safe?”

  “All good!” Pip answered. I held a finger to my lips and he grinned sheepishly. />
  “Keeping that knowledge out of enemy hands is excellent news.” Devon didn’t bother masking the relief in his voice. “We’ll add it to our list of recent advances.”

  “Oh?” I asked when everyone else gave me blank stares.

  “The combined forces of Council, under the command of Huntress Shifter, and the Fae have been able to secure a foothold in Florida. They’ve already reclaimed one Fae camp and will likely do so with the second in short order.”

  Hot damn, Mom.

  “The victory is rather hollow,” Devon added. “Reports indicate that the enemy numbers were significantly less than originally estimated.”

  I clenched my fists. “Freakin’ Makha.”

  “It appears that most of his attacks have been, at best, feints,” Devon said.

  “But what about the one in Maine against the Centaurs? We know that was a direct assault.”

  “That’s what we hear.”

  “You haven’t received reports from your commanders?”

  The phone was silent.

  “Elder Devon? You still there?”

  “Our troops never made it to Maine.”

  The entire room went still. Even Millie’s waitresses rolled to a stop, their eyes wide.

  “Wait, what?”

  Devon cleared his throat. “The Council and Dwarf forces were ambushed by a strong Minotaur contingent near the outskirts of the Boston Underground.”

  When Pip frowned, Jethrow pointed to the map and mouthed the word “here.”

  “Thanks to the talents of your father, Marcus,” the Elder continued, “they’ve been able to hold the line, but the Dwarves suffered significant casualties. The Minotaurs used the confusion of the alley system to their advantage, whittling away at our numbers. Most of our troops are already pulling back to reinforce your position at Millie’s. Unfortunately, we don’t believe that was Makha’s main effort.”

  Jethrow cursed. “This guy has been one step ahead of us from the get-go. It’s like he knows how we’ll react.”

  “Because he does,” Steve said.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “He’s drawing you to him. Look.” He put a finger on the woods of Maine. “First, he locks up the Centaurs because they’re a decent threat. But he also does this openly, knowing you’ll respond. And you do by sending a massive contingent to that location. He also hits the Fae, Satyrs and Bookworms, forcing you to divide your resources between them. And what happens? You get shellacked at every location. The Trolls are taking a beating in Nashville, the Dwarves and Council in Boston, and the only victory is in Florida, where it sounds like Makha left a small force at best. He’s hammering you tactically on every front. Why? Because you keep fighting him on his turf.”

  “The Underground is not ‘his turf,’” Devon replied vehemently. “It belongs to everyone. No single species can or should control it.”

  “Makha would have it otherwise,” Steve countered. “But that’s not what I meant. The Underground is comprised of complicated alleyways and side streets, which smells an awful lot like a maze. And Minotaurs know mazes.”

  The Elder was silent for a moment, then uttered a string of blistering curses. “We’ve been playing to his strengths this entire time.”

  “I literally just said that,” I grumbled.

  “Perhaps General Wells would be willing to commit her troops now?” Jethrow asked into the phone.

  Steve shook his head. “We don’t have that much time, nor is it the right tactic.”

  “I’m not sure you’re qualified to advise me on how to conduct a battle.” The General’s voice dripped with venom.

  “You’re right,” I admitted, jumping into the fray. “Steve doesn’t know the first thing about human warfare. But neither are you qualified to talk about Minotaur battle tactics. He’s the most knowledgeable person we have when it comes to Makha. So if he says we fight his old friend a certain way, I highly recommend we listen to him.”

  “That’s a valid point,” Devon answered as Wells began to speak, “but we can’t discount the general or her people’s capabilities.”

  “That’s not what we’re saying. We need your folks, General, but not here. Not now.”

  “You were singing a different tune in the Council chambers, Warlock,” she replied.

  “I know, but having seen this war up close, I’m now advising you not to deploy your folks to the Underground. Door-to-door fighting against an exceptionally well-trained enemy on a field where they have unique knowledge and experience? That’s a recipe for disaster. Even if we win, the loss of life will be staggering. Hell, every species that has taken on the Minotaurs here in the Underground has been butchered. So, to take a page from Steve’s little history lesson, let’s stop throwing more bodies at the problem.”

  “What do you propose?” Wells asked.

  “Makha knows how to fight in mazes, right? Well then, let’s take that away from him. Draw him into the open.”

  Jethrow frowned. “And how do we do that?”

  “By giving him exactly what he wants. We unlock the doors to the Normal world.”

  Wells actually laughed. “You are joking.”

  “Not this time.”

  “That’s the height of absurdity, Marcus,” Devon said. “Allowing Makha access to the Normal side of DC will put far too many civilians at risk.”

  “But fighting him here in the streets of the Underground won’t?”

  “Not human, no,” Wells replied.

  “That’s exactly my point,” I snapped, glaring at the phone. “Dammit, people. We keep bitching about how fractured the human and paranormal worlds are, yet here we stand, willing to fight Makha on the latter’s doorstep, but not on the former. How does that feel if you’re a paranormal?”

  Steve scowled. “Crappy.”

  Pip nodded violently.

  “And you feel exposing the other half of humanity to this war will fix whatever rifts exist between our people?” the General asked.

  “No. But it’ll put Makha on open ground that he’s not familiar with and force him to fight an enemy he doesn’t yet understand. Doesn’t that sound like a better tactic than sacrificing more and more warriors on a battlefield that he’s proven he owns?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “No, but it’s not the worst idea I’ve heard in my years of command. I’ll see what I can do about gathering troops, but I’m not sure how quickly we can mobilize.”

  Relief flood into me. “Anything is better than nothing, General. Thank you.”

  “The question is where?”

  “The Underground portals are random, so I have no idea where it’ll dump Makha when they exit. The best bet is to split our forces. Ensure we have options for where to lead his people. I recommend we put one group in Rockville Park in case the exit is north of HQ.”

  “And the other?”

  “Near the Washington Monument.”

  “The Mall?” Devon asked.

  “Yup. It’s about as wide open as you can get in the city. More importantly, it means that if they pop out south of HQ, we have someplace close where we can lead them.”

  “This is all assuming we can direct him and his forces where we want.”

  “Trust me, we can.”

  “Oh?” I could visualize Devon’s bushy gray eyebrows ticking up. “Do you have a spell that will bend him to your will?”

  “Not exactly, but Steve and I make for some very attractive bait.”

  Quinn blanched and even Jethrow darkened.

  “No,” my fiancée said.

  “I’m not saying we allow ourselves to get captured, but if Makha knows we’re here, he’ll likely come for us. Steve because he’s the Heir and me because I pissed in his cereal.”

  Both Steve and Pip snorted.
Quinn, however, stared daggers at me.

  “The key ingredient to this working is to pull everyone out,” I continued. Gol’dath’s tactic seemed suicidal earlier. Now I saw the wisdom in it. “We’ll keep a small force here long enough to allow the evacuation of our people. Once they’re clear, we’ll draw Makha to the exit and leapfrog our retreat to friendly lines, where we’ll hit him with everything we have. In the open where his troops can’t hide. Can’t escape.”

  Jethrow shook his head. “This is a horrible plan.”

  “All of his are,” Steve added. “We’re just the morons who follow them.”

  Jethrow smirked.

  “Before we agree to this,” Devon said, “does anyone else have an idea? Speak now, otherwise this is the course we’ll follow.”

  The diner remained silent.

  “Very well. General Wells and I will see to distributing our forces accordingly. I’ll contact you on this portable device—”

  “It’s called a ‘satellite phone,’” Pip interjected.

  “—when we’re ready. I assume you’ll have a signal of some sort to let us know when you’re coming.”

  “What would you prefer?” I asked. “Text message? Smoke signal? Flamingo dance?”

  “Anything is fine, so long as we aren’t surprised.”

  “Can’t promise anything.”

  He ignored me. “General, are you on board?”

  “I’ll agree to this, but only on the condition that if the Minotaurs cross over and we don’t get a signal from you, I take command.”

  I scowled at the phone. “I’d say that depends on whether or not you still intend to carpet-bomb the Minotaur homeland.”

  “I do.”

  “Then no.”

  “That’s not your call, Marcus,” Devon countered. Then to Wells: “The Council agrees.”

  “Hang on,” I replied. “The Council absolutely does not.”

  Jethrow leaned over the phone. “I’m with Marcus on this. Wiping out their homeland is too much.”

  Devon sighed heavily. “Both of your concerns are noted and ignored. As the senior Elder, this is my call and mine alone. We’re at war, gentlemen, and our options are rapidly getting worse by the minute. If we can’t contain the enemy, we need to neutralize them. General, you have my blessing to manage the battle any way you see fit should it escalate out of control. However I will be the one to determine when that happens. Agreed?”