The closest creatures were incinerated. They were the lucky ones. Others erupted into screaming torches and scattered, spreading the flames further than Ramirez’s spell ever could. The desiccated landscape burst into flames. Trees, buildings, even the land itself crackled and burned. Within seconds what could have been contained had been transformed into a roaring inferno.
Who would have thought that Hell’s suburbs would be flammable? That’s damn poor engineering, if you ask me. I’m guessing safety ain’t at the top of the Devil’s priorities.
“Holy shit, Ramirez; look what you did now!” I yelled as soon as I blinked some sight back into my eyes. “Someone’s going to be pissed!”
We didn’t have long to enjoy the show. Bender was at my side, lifting, pulling, and helping me to my feet. He ignored Stevens, not an insult, just the way he worked. I had once been part of Bender’s world, of Thomas’s, maybe I still was. His loyalty was built around those Thomas cared about, nothing else mattered. Not in my experience, anyways.
“We need to move, quickly,” he urged. “This will not go unnoticed,” he said waving his hand about. I couldn’t help but chuckle. No, it won’t, I supposed.
Ramirez was staring about wide-eyed, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Damn, I’m good.”
“Don’t get too cocky son,” Mac advised. “You just burned down the Devil’s house, seems to me you might not want to shout your name too loud around these parts.”
“Oh shit,” Ramirez muttered, “I didn’t think about that.”
“You never do,” Nunez shouted as he pulled abreast, “but we’ve got more to worry about. The wind’s shifting, going to be blowing this way soon.”
Bender pointed toward several hooded figures dwarfed by the roaring flames. “It’s not the wind,” he said. “Those are Ifrit, fire-shepherds and they’re herding it our way.”
Fire shepherds, it fucking figured. Don’t ever count on catching a break in Hell or even close to the Infernal Kingdom. It ain’t going to happen. Them’s the rules.
We ran while the Ifrit danced within the flames urging them to turn in our direction. I didn’t stay to look. I’d seen forest fires in Colorado when I was young. I knew how fast they could run. The only thing that could save us was distance, the more the better.
We ran full-out, non-stop. We ran while the pathway slowly faded around us and the wind howled at our backs. I knew the moment the fire shepherds gained control of their charge and turned it in our direction. I could hear the whoop-whoop of their cries and feel the heat clawing at our backs.
We were strung out now, unit discipline forgotten as the fastest runners surged ahead. Stevens, Ramirez, even Nunez silently passed by. Bender was a blur in the distance. Only Mac drew alongside and urged me to run faster. He shouldn’t have spared the breath, but he wasn’t going to let any of his boys roast, not even the witch.
I spared a glance behind me. The fire was still a good distance away, but it was gaining fast. Hooded Ifrit whooped and beat the sides of the flames with crooked staves, urging the fire as if it were a mindless beast. They growled and howled along with it, driving it towards fuel and away from patches of rocky ground that would slow its stampede.
We weren’t the only creatures running. My peripheral vision caught a surge of scuttling horrors racing away from the flames. We raced past a shambling tree-like creature with thousands of eyes instead of leaves. I would have pitied it anywhere else. Here, however, I couldn’t help but think it deserved its fate. Clouds of vulture-faced harpies wheeled slowly overhead, preparing to feast after the flames passed.
We weren’t going to last much longer. We could churn the miles beneath our feet on Mac’s runs, but we were sprinting now. You can’t keep that up for long. You train for endurance or you train for speed. You can’t do both. Up ahead I saw Nunez falter. He picked himself back up, but he was bleeding speed.
“Left, left!” Mac shouted as he raced ahead to help Nunez.
I turned my head and spotted what Mac had been yelling about. Off to the left, maybe a quarter mile away a spire of rock thrust itself out of the blasted plain. Hope lent me speed where desperation had not.
I put my head down and pushed into the run. Even so, it was a close thing. The shepherds screamed and cajoled their fiery charges, but even here, fire is dependent upon fuel. Whipped by winds and the strange crooked staffs the fire shepherds used, the flames fought and clawed their way across the landscape, but it was a losing battle. Too much rock lay under my feet.
The shepherds weren’t about to give up, however. They turned their charges aside and angled to cut Mac and Nunez off. The rest of my unit was above me, having already secured their safety among the jumbled rocks, but Mac and Nunez looked like they were going to lose their race. Mac could have made it on his own, but he was holding Nunez up, valiantly trying to help him run on a twisted ankle.
I watched helplessly as the Ifrit fought to turn the flames. They began gathering speed as they left the rocky plains behind. One of the hooded figures leapt up above the flames, twirling his staff and threw a wind behind them. Fires that had been struggling only moments before roared to life and raced along the new path. Their whooping cries left no doubt that they’d encircle Mac and Nunez before they found sanctuary among the rocks.
I threw down my pack, furiously scrabbling through its contents. There had to be something inside that could help me build a spell. This wasn’t my specialty. I was observation/reconnaissance, not a battle-mage. That was what Ramirez and Stevens were for, but I didn’t know if they had anything in their toolboxes for stopping forest fires. Maybe I could pull a bit of rain I thought as I worked my way through the pack.
My fingers fumbled numbly over little plastic baggies of amber, jasper, tourmaline, and dozens of other stones. Tourmaline? It wouldn’t help bring rain, it was more often connected to fire than the water elements. What about snowflake obsidian? It wasn’t related to water either, but it was a grounding stone. Shit, it was the best that I could do, maybe I could buy Nunez some time.
I placed the small stone in the center of my palm and gazed out across the plains. Above me I could hear Ramirez and Stevens shouting, but the wind ripped their words away. There was no time for circles and wardings. Before I could call the Watch Towers the flames would encircle my friends. I centered myself and drew a quick summoning pentacle above the stone, knowing that my head wasn’t right. I wasn’t calm, I hadn’t raised the proper defenses, I hadn’t even asked the Goddess’s favor.
I bound my panic into the opening pentagram, forcing my intentions down along the five lines. This was dangerous, I told myself and then brushed the warning aside. There was no time for proper ritual, for structure. All I had was raw need. It had to be enough.
Contact was surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was due to the proximity of the Pathways to wherever the Gods reside. Perhaps it was my need that fueled my connection, but whatever the reason the connection was hard, fast, and immediate. A cool torrent of energy surged through my hand, pouring into my body like a river spilling into a cup. So fast was the connection and response that I was taken completely by surprise and had to fight to keep from becoming submerged in the rush.
Seconds ticked by as I floundered. The fire shepherds were leaping and twirling in the air above the flames, driving them ever closer to their destination. I watched as Mac struggled with Nunez, his head whipping about as they searched for safe ground. They’d come too far to turn back. The wall of fire was moments away from sweeping over them both.
And then Mac did something completely unexpected. He dropped to his knees and drew a cross above their heads. He was preparing to die with his Lord on his lips.
It was that moment that I gave up fighting for control and threw out my hands. The dam broke inside me. Energy that had filled me to the brim exploded from my outstretched arms, a great silver arc sailing above charred lands.
Once I released it, I couldn’t contain it. It was all I could do to focus the energy on t
he area of my desire. I was close enough. The energy that arced from my hands swirled up and over the flames and splashed to earth in the thin line that separated Mac and Nunez from the roaring flames. I collapsed to the ground, utterly drained.
Nothing happened, not at first at least. The flames continued racing towards their quarry and then they stopped. There was no sudden burst of steam as fire hit water, no agonizing cries. I struggled back to my feet to get a better vantage point, but even when standing I didn’t understand what was happening at first.
Neither did the Ifrit. They continued leaping above the flames, swinging their crooked staves, but the fires weren’t advancing. Their whooping cries quickly changed in tone from high-pitched chirps of anticipation, to growls of dismay. The flames were being snuffed out as they attempted to cross the barrier I’d drawn.
The fire shepherds weren’t as mindless as their charges. Within moments they waded into the conflagration in an attempt to turn the stampede, but it was too late. The flames had consumed all the fuel that lay behind them. The best the shepherds could do was to cut out a lone campfire and send it skittering towards the terminus of the spell.
It took Mac a few seconds longer to realize he wasn’t going to die a martyr’s death. I don’t know who was more shocked, him or the Ifrit. Seconds later he was up, pulling Nunez back onto his feet. Together the two began hobbling back towards the spire, but the Ifrit hadn’t given up their chase.
Though several moved to aid the lone campfire to evade my spell, two others weren’t ready to quit. They turned away from the pulsing line I’d drawn and raced back towards the spire in an effort to cut them off. It wouldn’t be close. While Mac and Nunez struggled their way across the broken slope, the Ifrit bounded ahead.
They moved like their charges, jumping in swooping arcs that ate up five to ten feet at a time. At best I’d only bought Mac a few minutes respite. From where I stood it was clear to me that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against the iron staves the shepherds swung. They were too quick, darting back and forth like living creatures of flame.
I turned back and shouted up the spire. “You’ve got to help them!”
“They’re too far,” Ramirez shouted back, but he wasn’t the only one atop the rock. Gripping his black blade at his side Bender ran across the top of the rocks and leapt into the sky. A forty-foot fall should kill a man. It should shatter his legs at the very least, but Bender came up rolling as he hit the ground and kept running. He sprinted across the broken ground with inhuman grace, nearly floating above it.
Even so, it was a close thing. Bender caught the Ifrit just as they were rounding the end point to my spell. Mac pulled back into a defensive crouch, shielding Nunez behind him. The shepherds were intent, they moved . . . they flowed to either side flanking him, iron staves twirling, probing.
One of the shepherds threw his head back trilling his delight to the sky while the other launched a series of feints and maneuvers that Mac barely avoided. They were enjoying this I realized. The Ifrit were taunting Mac, forcing him to constantly shift his position. If he was damned lucky, he might be able to catch one of their staffs on his blade, but he couldn’t protect himself from two. They stalked him like cats tormenting a mouse.
I knew the moment they were ready to strike; I saw them stiffen. Mac must have seen it too, but he saw something else as well. He saw Bender coming up behind them.
Mac’s not the type to sit back and let himself be rescued. Instead of retreating he leaned into the attack. Dodging to his left he swept under a casual feint and drove himself against the Ifrit’s unprotected middle. At the same time Bender drew his sword and swept it through the figure to Mac’s right.
Two things happened the instant Bender withdrew his blade. The lighting throughout the underworld pulsed and dimmed as if a cloud had passed in front of the sun and Bender roared. A lion’s roar can travel five miles. Bender’s would have sent those great beasts scurrying home in shame. It shook the ground, blasting across the broken plains like a rocket lifting itself to the moon.
With its back turned towards Bender, the first Ifrit didn’t stand a chance. Before the last echoes from Benders roar faded his sword cleaved the creature in two. Its dying scream and empty robe flapped to the ground.
Mac and Nunez froze in shock. It should have killed them; the battlefield doesn’t forgive mistakes. Instead the Ifrit turned its killing blow into a graceless retreat. One moment it was towering over Mac and the next it bent itself backwards, nearly parallel to the ground and withdrew.
“Run,” Bender thundered before turning in pursuit.
Mac and Nunez started limping towards the spire while a small rock fall told me Stevens and Ramirez were working their way down to meet them out on the plains. I should join them, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from spectacle they were leaving behind.
The same spell that had consumed the fires now blocked the Ifrit’s escape. It danced to its left and right, trying to force Bender to commit to a direction, but he wasn’t taking the bait. He advanced slowly, his smoky blade held at the ready, forcing the creature to expose its sides or stand and fight.
With his escape cut off the Ifrit reacted like any cornered animal. He attacked. In a blinding series of maneuvers the creature lashed and whirled, dodged and charged, seemingly all at the same time. It was like watching a flame blown by a shifting wind. I couldn’t imagine how Mac could have survived such an attack; it was unlike anything I’d ever witnessed. And yet, Bender stood. His blade was a whirling sheet of darkness cutting the air with such ferocity that it howled with its passage.
By now the other shepherds had escorted the little campfire to safe ground and left it grazing on a withered tree. They left it there with a single guard and turned to join the fight. It would take them awhile to maneuver around my spell and regain the ground they’d lost, but Bender was running out of time. If he couldn’t end his fight quickly, he’d be overwhelmed when the other shepherds arrived.
I couldn’t tell if Bender was aware of the growing threat, but the Ifrit he fought certainly knew. After a complicated maneuver that ended with a sweeping thrust at Bender’s legs the creature withdrew a further step and laughed, pointing across the field.
Even from where I stood, Bender’s body language was clear. His shoulders slumped as he took the bait and risked a quick glance. It was exactly what the Ifrit was waiting for, a slight opening it could pursue. The shepherd lashed forward, sweeping his crooked staff through Bender’s blind side while his other arm darted for Bender’s throat.
The staff took him in the side and he stumbled to his knees. I couldn’t believe Bender had been taken by such an obvious trick, but everyone makes mistakes. And on the battlefield, it only takes one to put you down. I wanted to look away, but I was held rooted to the spot. At the very least, Thomas would want an accounting of how his friend died.
The Ifrit swept forward, reaching for Bender’s throat. His hand never closed the gap. Even on his knees, Bender hadn’t dropped his sword. At the last moment it flicked upwards, skewering the shepherd through the abdomen. For one terrible second, they stood there, locked together and then Bender pushed himself up off the ground and ripped his sword free. The shocked Ifrit swayed on his feet for several seconds before collapsing to the ground.
Always show your enemy what he expects to see, Bender taught me long ago. If he expects strength, show him strength. If he expects weakness, give him that and draw him in, but always hold your true self in reserve. Every battle is won before it is fought when you control what your opponent sees.
Bender turned towards the two shepherds advancing towards him. His defiant roar shook the ground sending gravel and small rocks cascading down the spire. He waved his sword above his head before driving it deep into the corpse at his feet.
The remaining shepherds turned tail and ran, skipping lightly across the plain to join their brother by the feasting fire. Bender sheathed his sword as full light returned to the borderlands revea
ling the extent of the devastation. As far as the eye could see, nothing remained. Off in the distance, beyond the smoking ruins, a horn clawed through the smoky air. The raspy note crawled across my skin reminding me that something knew we were here.
By the time I rejoined my unit, Bender was already there examining Nunez’s ankle. Ramirez and Stevens stood to one side, unsure if they should interfere while Mac kept his eyes on the horizon.
“It’s not broken,” Bender announced as I drew alongside, “but the sprain’s going to slow him significantly.” He glanced back to where Mac was looking and slowly shook his head. “The shepherds were only the first, more will come. I can give him Stimlyx root, it will block the pain without clouding his mind, but the damage will continue to accrue.”
“Give it,” Nunez hissed. “We’ve got to move and I can’t afford to slow us down.”
Bender reached into a pocket and pulled out a gray stick. “Chew this slowly,” he said. “Use for more than twenty-four hours will bring addiction,” he warned.
“If we’re not finished within twenty-four hours, we’re done for anyways,” Nunez replied.
Nunez took the proffered root and stuck one end in his mouth, slowly chewing on the end. Within seconds I could see that it was working as the strain washed from his face. After testing his ankle, Nunez reported he was ready. He felt better than he had in days.
“How far?” I asked Bender.
“Beyond the spire is an ancient battlefield. I spied it from the top. He will be there somewhere near the middle and he knows we’re coming.”
“How,” I asked, more than a little afraid of the answer.
“The swords are a mated pair. He will know when Harvester drank the light. Others too, will know we are coming. That is my concern.”
We started out shortly afterwards, once Bender was certain the Stimlyx root had taken hold. I tried reminding Nunez to be careful, that he was still damaging his ankle even though he couldn’t feel it, but he brushed my concerns aside. The horns blowing from the ruins had grown louder and were being joined by others stretched out beyond the horizon. Regardless of the damage he might be causing, he wouldn’t slow the unit down.
The Dead Pools Page 24
