Debbi and Ross grabbed the few disoriented troopers that remained and threw them off the edge of the graveyard island. They fell screaming into the hungry waters. Suddenly a loud crack rent the air and the black liquid began to solidify, freezing the zombies where they floundered. Arms and legs protruded from the wasteland around the graveyard. Some of them moved, trapped in living death. In the distance, beyond the zone of destruction, Legionnaires could be seen making their way off, limping, crawling away from Castle Rock.
Once the graveyard was free of zombies, Ross slumped to his knees to catch his breath. Debbi watched the other Rangers. Tsukino was down, but alive. Fitz was bleeding from his right arm. Every Ranger was bloody and covered in gore. But there was a sense of triumph, of victory over incredible odds. Chennault picked Miller up in the air and kissed him on the mouth. Miller gaped at her and then laughed devilishly. She promptly dropped the greasy-haired Ranger and groaned.
Martool stirred. The shaman who looked up from the clearing in the graveyard was very different than the one who had knelt there moments before. This anouk woman was old, her purple skin deeply wrinkled. Her once-strong hands were wizened. Her eyes showed deep exhaustion.
"Martool?" Debbi murmured. "Are you all right?"
The shaman nodded weakly and tried to stand. Her feeble legs gave out and she fell back to the ground. Debbi and Ross both helped Martool to her feet.
"This is cleansing an area?" Debbi asked in awe as she looked at the carnage around her.
"I added something special," Martool said in a voice whisper soft and broken. "Just cleansing didn't seem sufficient payment for the trouble these things have caused."
Ross grinned, "Knew I'd find something about you I liked."
Debbi stared at the shaman's altered face. "But what has it done to you?"
Martool touched her cheek, feeling the leathery skin. A sadly satisfied smile played over her lips. "Even magic is not free."
Chapter 27
General Quantrill studied the smoking, ruined courtyard of Castle Rock that he saw in his mind's eye. He felt the second deaths of many of his men as their undead consciousnesses winked out of the Legion network. He could sense many more still alive, but trapped in the tannis wreckage.
The picture was inconceivable. His troops had been entering Castle Rock. The Rangers had been retreating. The anouks had been scrambling for their lives. He had been on the verge of total victory.
All but Martool.
That witch had brought part of her own city down on his Legion. Even Kreech had not done such a desperate thing.
Yet, she would not have been able to wreak her savage witchcraft if the Colonial Rangers hadn't protected her. Quantrill had felt a touch of respect, even envy as he saw them struggle so bravely, but fall one by one. Then only Ross and Dallas remained. Then they fell too and Quantrill had been giddy with triumph.
Now it was in ashes.
The General clenched his teeth in rage. He had lost most of his army, and all of his officer corps including Captain De Klerk. Normally, he would return to the attack to show the enemy that their victory was fleeting at best, that the Legion was unstoppable. But most of the troopers who had escaped were badly damaged and they would be unable to regenerate without raw meat. He faced the same fate as so many generals in history. His army traveled on its stomach and he had to go to the food.
General Quantrill would have to retreat from Castle Rock. He had never retreated before. He stroked his chin, feeling the hardness of teeth against his thumb through the gap in his cheek. The worst part of this entire debacle was that he had to leave men behind. He had sworn to himself he would show the world he was not the inhuman meat grinder they had made him out to be when he was alive. Now he was leaving boys trapped near the ground where he had resurrected them just a few months ago.
All because of Captain Ross.
Quantrill could have simply killed that wretched Ranger at the sanitarium. But he had spared Ross's life because he remembered the Ranger had once treated him decently when no one else would. Quantrill had even deigned to make Ross an integral part of the Legion's conquest of Banshee. But the vile, ungrateful Ranger had fought at every turn. And now he had ruined Quantrill's dream.
Not ruined, Quantrill hastily corrected, merely delayed. But it was a costly and humiliating delay. Ross was going to pay.
The General turned from the map table in the rear of the Stallion to see Avernus standing at the vehicle's rear door.
Quantrill was startled. "Avernus! What are you doing here?"
"I am not here," the Fallen said. "I am in my office."
Quantrill again felt stupid, but recovered his assured and collected visage. Avernus was a powerful syker; he was merely projecting his image into Quantrill's brain.
The Fallen was his usual calm self. "The campaign is not going well, I assume?"
"You could say that."
Avernus nodded in understanding. "I felt a burst from Castle Rock a moment ago. It was enormously powerful. Even I was impressed. Did you lose many men?"
"Yes."
Avernus's inhuman eyes clouded with doubt and disgust. "Hmm. I have located a new cadaver field at Colman's Bluff."
Quantrill looked up with interest. Colman's Bluff had been a sizable battle in the Anouk Wars and numerous sykers died there.
"I fear," Avernus continued, "the conditions there are not so fine as in the Red River Valley. But I'm hoping for perhaps a hundred serviceable troopers."
"Good." Quantrill stood, already contemplating his murderous return to Castle Rock. "How soon can they be ready?"
Avernus held up a cautionary hand. "Return to the Sanitarium and we will make plans."
"Soon," Quantrill growled.
Chapter 28
The battle was over. Those dead who were able had departed.
Ross stood on the decimated battlements and looked out over the carnage. Smoke wafted across the bloody field and around the remains of the sun gate in a pale attempt to cover the devastation. The dim light cast a dismal pallor over Ross.
He was so damn tired. The stabbing pain in his skull had faded, but he hurt everywhere else. The victory had brought a sense of peace inside him. Quantrill may not be dead again, but at least he, with the help of his Rangers and the anouks, had slapped the General down hard. Ross wanted the zombie syker to suffer as he had suffered and snatching looming triumph from Quantrill's hands was a good start.
There was a shout behind him.
Looking down the jagged slope, he saw Debbi astride her massive chanouk. A riderless beast stood beside her. She waved at Ross and then held up the reins of the extra mount.
"Today's the day!" Debbi called out.
Ross stared at her without comprehending.
"Riding lessons!" A grin split her face.
It was a decidedly evil grin, Ross decided after a moment, but he'd be damned if he let her see him nervous. He merely lifted a laconic eyebrow.
Debbi beamed broadly at him, clearly broadcasting her joy at being alive this day. "I figured we'd go out with the anouks and make sure all the sykers are well and truly dead. Cleanup duty, so to speak."
Ross climbed down the rubble toward her. "We'll get the squad to help out." The Rangers' black guns were empty, but they had scraped up a little regular ammo and the zombies that were trapped in the rubble seemed to be almost powerless thanks, Ross assumed, to Martool's magic. He sent the call to Stew and told him to organize it.
Everyone one was riding on a high today. Even the anouks were smiling and chatting. Their own dead had been buried and mourned, and now the living began to feel that a lengthy future lay before them. Human and anouk walked the grounds together. It was odd to see a species that was normally so dour in front of humans laughing and trying to communicate.
Ross pulled his eyes away reluctantly from the activities around the courtyard area and brought them to center on the matter at hand. He approached his chanouk with a show of confidence he didn't feel. He still clung to the fact
that a good glare would show the beast he wasn't to be trifled with.
The creature's head swiveled to follow Ross as the Ranger stepped to the beast's powerful shoulder. It leaned in close to sniff him. The Ranger stood quietly. It was just like a horse exploring a new rider. Slow and easy was the name of the game. He just hoped his many wounds wouldn't arouse the creature's bloodlust.
The chanouk's warm breath was intense. Ross could feel the moist heat through his shirt sleeve. Its long tongue darted out and ran up Ross's arm, slowly and deliberately, leaving a viscous trail.
"That's just his way of saying hello," Debbi offered encouragingly, still possessing an impish glint in her eye.
"Or maybe it's his way of seeing how I taste," Ross grumbled as he eyed the numerous, sharp teeth only a foot away from his face.
"Then he's probably thinking you need salt." Debbi laughed freely and loudly for the first time in many months. She leaned over the pommel of her own saddle and gazed down at Ross.
Ross didn't care that the laughter was at his expense. It was good to hear again. It was as if both of them were becoming alive once more. He relished it.
"I wouldn't worry," Debbi continued. "I'm sure he wants to save his appetite. He'll be eating zombies in a bit."
Ross grunted. Without removing his commanding stare from the chanouk, he took the reins from Debbi, hefted his leg up, and shoved his foot into the stirrup. He began murmuring to the chanouk in a voice so quiet that he doubted Debbi could even hear it. But Ross knew the chanouk could. Its ears were full forward, listening intently as it watched Ross. The Ranger eased himself the large saddle while staying alert in case the chanouk decided it didn't like its new rider. Ross tensed his thigh muscles around the creature's ribcage and tightened his grip on the reins.
The animal took a deep snuffle of the human and the expansion of the chanouk's girth made Ross's legs ache as they bowed with it. He waited pensively for the chanouk to make its decision.
He felt unexpected exhilaration creep into his gut. Very few humans could boast that they had ridden a great anouk warbeast. Thanks to Debbi, he was going to be counted among them.
Ross's mount finally released its breath in a deep sigh and yawned mightily. Relieved, Debbi clucked to her own chanouk, Little Joe, and they leapt over a low wall of rubble in one enormous lurch.
Ross's chanouk followed immediately after. He wasn't prepared for the power that surged beneath him as the beast's muscles bunched and then propelled him swiftly after Debbi. He clutched at the anouk's version of a saddle horn, a ring of black tannis. It took a bit of concentration to command his body to move in rhythm with the odd gait of the chanouk. But soon he gained his coordination and the ride smoothed out. It wasn't an up and down motion like horseback, instead it was a side-to-side pelvic swing.
Debbi pulled her chanouk back beside his. "I found it responds better to leg pressure than the reins."
"How do I make it stop?" Ross called as his beast stalked rapidly past hers. Maybe he should've gotten the important information before he started.
"Then you need the reins," Debbi laughed as she came alongside. "Pull back on them, just like a horse."
Ross fingered the tannis ring embedded in the saddle. "What's this for?"
"That's for when we go rock climbing."
Ross eyed her sharply. "Keep it simple, Dallas."
"Don't I always?"
"Hell no."
Life hadn't been simple since Debbi came into his life. Not that he was complaining. The faintest hint of a smile broke over Ross's face.
As the chanouks pawed over the twisted ground together, their great nostrils huffing at the jagged rocks searching for hidden prey, Ross twisted in the saddle and looked back at Castle Rock. He saw Fareel standing on the remains of the decimated sun gate, watching them with folded arms. In fact, there were numerous anouks on the mound, all staring at the Rangers.
"That's Sahrin's chanouk you're riding," Debbi informed him. "Fareel wanted you to ride it."
Ross glanced at her in surprise. He looked back at Fareel and lifted a hand. The warrior returned the gesture.
"He's probably waitin' to see if I fall off the damn thing and kill myself," Ross mumbled. "They've probably placed bets on it."
"I've got a month's pay riding on you myself. And there are a lot of side bets on whether the chanouk eats you."
"You've got a hell of a sense of humor, Dallas, you know that?"
Debbi just grinned maniacally. Then she bobbed her head at him. "Well?"
"Well what?"
Sighing with exasperation, she gestured to his chanouk. "What do you think?"
"Oh," he said nodding. "It's all right."
"All right? That's it? Just all right? We're some of the first human beings to ever ride chanouks and all you have to say is all right?"
He shrugged. Why did women always want an overblown reaction to an enjoyable experience? Of course, riding the chanouk gave him a giddy thrill. His hands were clenched so tight around the reins that they were tingling. His heart was pounding a mile a minute in his chest, so much so he thought it would burst. But the bottom line was there was no need to go getting all emotional about it. It was all right. Didn't she know that description covered a wide range?
"You're impossible," Debbi huffed. But she could see that Ross was enjoying himself. He wasn't exactly smiling, but the air of pride and excitement was all she needed to know Ross was relishing this moment. They had been through so much and if she could do this one thing to try and bring their world closer to what it once was, it was worth every second.
She remembered the ranch in Ross's dream plane, the horses waiting in the corral, the open prairie beyond the small valley where he most likely rode them. She had seen the little house and its trim state. Was it the memory of that ranch house that gave Ross his desire for orderliness? Was it a connection to a life of freedom and tranquility that the grim Ranger no longer had?
And he had shared that life with someone, someone with red hair.
Debbi had wondered every day since then if that someone had been her. Was it a dream of the past or of the future? Was there more to Ross's past than she had ever guessed? Had there once been someone important in his life? And, if so, what happened to her?
One day she might find herself brave enough to ask Ross to tell her about it. She felt a bond between them now. Although unwittingly, Ross had given her a personal, private view of what the Earth was like, something she had never known before except through pictures and words. Though she hadn't told him, she treasured his memories almost as her own and would forever. Ross had given her a glimpse of her mother's home world.
Debbi and Ross paralleled the wrecked wall for a bit, getting an overview of the aftermath of Martool's powerful magic. They talked about little things that they hadn't had an opportunity to do in a long time. It felt good to speak of them. It provided, if only briefly, a sense of continuity and peace to their chaotic lives.
Eventually, Debbi rode ahead of Ross with a practiced grace. Her hips swung hypnotically in the saddle while her upper body was almost completely still.
Damn.
Ross wiped his mouth with a gloved hand and cast his gaze away, concentrating on his chanouk instead.
Debbi was right. It was very much like riding horses. Ross was immediately cast back to his childhood, to the days on Earth at his grandfather's ranch. The old man had taught Ross how to ride a horse. The sense of sheer exhilaration and unity that allowed two beings to work as one was a sensation that Ross would never tire of. It wasn't the same driving a machine, all cold and cooperative.
He remembered his grandfather's tales of the Weird West and imagined battling those fantastic creatures as his grandfather had once done. Ross's hand found the Peacemaker at his side and brushed his fingers along the handle.
It was those stories that had fired Ross's desire for adventure, a chance to prove his prowess against the raw elements and bring order to a planet that needed it desperat
ely. He had had large designs for his future back then. Most of them had been realized.
Some had not.
He watched Debbi bounding ahead of him. She was so happy and boisterous. She loved being a Colonial Ranger, thrived on the danger and reveled in victory, much like himself. Protecting the innocent had been her goal from day one. And it was much more basic to her makeup even than Ross's. All she wanted to do was help those in need, guard them from harm, and maintain the right.
Ross had taken her desire and nurtured it. One day, Debbi would be ten times the Ranger he was. Ross knew that. When she first came to Temptation she was untested, unsure, and full of simple, even naive, convictions.
Now Debbi was tempered, wielding an uncanny intuition, a powerful morality, and a drive to protect her charges with all the ferocity of a mothering chanouk. Ross was proud of her. He felt an odd sense of relief, knowing that Temptation had been safe in her hands during his absence. She had done the job better than he at times, but he had no jealousy or resentment. All he felt for her was admiration. Debbi had been not only Temptation's stability, but his own as well.
Ross was jerked from his reverie as his chanouk leapt upon the limp body of a undead syker partially encased in tannis and clamped on its head with powerful jaws. With little resistance, it crushed like a brittle eggshell. A deep trilling began and Ross realized with surprise that the great beast was purring.
Ross held the reins loosely allowing the chanouk to go about its grisly duty since it seemed to relish it so much. He leaned back in the saddle and saw groups of anouks and Colonial Rangers wandering the field. The Rangers were executing the squirming undead with well-placed shots. The anouks were smashing the skulls of the fallen zombies with their large, heavy war clubs. Other groups prepared a pyre for the disposition of the headless bodies.
It wouldn't take long to get the place cleaned up. The Rangers would be home in Temptation in another day or two. That thought alone made Ross relax a bit more. It seemed like they had been gone forever, Ross more so than the others.
Banshee Screams Page 62
