The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

Angie followed Tec into the queen's throne room, now bustling with activity and excited conversation. Two guards stepped before them, blocking their path with their spears. Tec looked past them as if they weren't there. At least a hundred elves—advisers, servants, and warriors—crowded about the spacious throne room. Fairies and nymphs darted about, many flying as they delivered reports.

  "Prince Kilyn," Tec yelled, now seeing the elf among a group of warriors.

  The young man paused in his discussion and stared in surprise at Tec and Angie. "Let them in."

  Both guards snapped to attention, removing their spears. Tec and Angie strode past. The excitement died down for a moment upon their arrival but almost immediately resumed. Angie's glance took in the empty throne. Where was the queen?

  The elvish warriors attending Prince Kilyn stepped aside. Tec directed his attention to the prince. "What do we know?"

  "We?" the prince asked, one eyebrow raised.

  "To my immense surprise, I find I'm going to fight with you," Tec said dryly.

  "We are going to fight with you," Angie said, her hand on Tec's forearm.

  Tec met her eyes and smiled. "We're fighting with you."

  The elves watched them in silence, their faces like masks. Then the prince flashed his perfect white teeth in a smile and placed one hand atop Tec’s shoulder and the other on Angie's. "And welcome you are."

  "How bad is it?" Angie asked.

  The prince's smile vanished. "Bad. At least five thousand Aztalan warriors are moving north through the ruins of Imperial Beach and making their way toward the Silver Strand."

  "How long do we have?" Tec asked.

  "Longer than the Aztalans may realize. We've been preparing to fight in the ruins of Imperial Beach for some time now. We’ll make them bleed for each foot, but we have less than two thousand warriors. Even for us, those are bad odds."

  "Worse than you think. They have firearms," Tec said. "They're much better armed than you realize."

  "Maybe not. My mother has been expecting this attack for some time now."

  "Don't underestimate your mages," Angie said. "You have some of the best in the world."

  "Never enough," the prince said.

  "What's your plan?" Tec asked. "If you can't hold them..."

  "I didn't say we couldn't hold them, just not forever. My sister and mother are mobilizing our people to flee north over the Bay Bridge."

  "To go where?" Angie asked.

  "Ephix Lamia has offered us sanctuary in the Fresno Enclave. We just need to hold the Aztalans long enough."

  But how long will they be safe in Fresno? Angie wondered. The Aztalans won't stop here.

  "You're fighting a delaying action then?" Tec asked.

  "We are. I'm about to go now to oversee the battle in the ruins of Imperial Beach."

  "Then we'll come with you," Tec said.

  Kilyn placed both hands atop Tec's shoulders and lowered his elongated egg-like skull until his forehead touched Tec's. "It will be an honor to fight alongside the Jaguar Knight." He duplicated the gesture with Angie. "And you as well, daughter of Chararah Succubus, mage of the Commonwealth."

  Her face warmed with the welcome, and she swallowed, trying to sound brave when she answered. "It’s our honor."

  At that moment, all conversation stopped as Queen Elenaril, dressed in her silver armor with a longsword on her hip, strode into the throne room, escorted by a squad of spear-armed Phoenix Guard warriors. The elves dropped to a knee, as did Angie and Tec. The queen stopped before Angie, her voice tired. "Please, rise. Rise, everyone. This is not the time for such things."

  Angie and the others rose and faced the queen.

  "Ephix Lamia has been in communication with me," the queen said simply to Angie.

  Angie didn’t ask how. Maybe by radio, maybe by magic. "I dreamed of her," she said. "And … another."

  The queen’s eyes were kind. "So Ephix has told me. Aernyx Lamia and his Night Kin are all traitors but no less dangerous. Ephix has asked that I offer you protection. I would do so even without her request. I apologize for the attack upon you while a guest in my home."

  "Attack?" asked Tec in surprise, looking from the queen to Angie. "What attack?"

  "The black dragon Itzpapalotl has, among her many other servants, a lamia, Aernyx Lamia. It was his vampires who attacked you. Now Aernyx hunts our Angela in her dreams, a most deadly foe."

  "Where?" Tec demanded, his posture going stiff, his face suddenly hard. "Tell me where to find this lamia."

  "I do not doubt your bravery, Jaguar Knight," the queen said. "But there is no need to risk your life—not yet, at any rate. I have this." She lifted a necklace she had been holding in her hand, dangling it by the silver chain. It was a red crystal the size of Angie’s thumb, carved to resemble a single rose, all the petals of one glass piece. Even from here, Angie felt magic resonate from it.

  "It’s beautiful," Angie said.

  "It’s yours," the queen answered, stepping forward and clasping it around Angie’s neck before she could say anything. "It’s a talisman, one of some few I’ve collected over the years. I dare say my collection might even match your mother’s. At any rate, this rose, the Adulation of Asura, will protect your dreams, keep you safe from the lamia. Never remove it. Aernyx will not stop hunting you, not until he’s dead."

  "I won’t," Angie whispered, running her fingers over the glass rose. "Thank you."

  "Now." The queen faced her son. "It’s time to make the Aztalans regret moving against us."

  With the afternoon sun high overhead, Angie crouched behind a crumbling three-foot stone wall and peered over its edge. The wall surrounded the parking lot of a large white building that had once been a Lutheran church in the heart of Imperial Beach but was now just another ruin. Tec knelt beside her with Prince Kilyn and one of his Phoenix Guard warriors. They watched the dozen Aztalan scouts three hundred meters away as they advanced on either side of the wide city street, once a main road in the city and now the center of the enemy’s axis of advance toward Coronado Island. It was along this route that the lead elements of an Aztalan brigade of five hundred men moved north. The scouts, unaware they were under observation, moved slowly, advancing with their rifles tight in their shoulders, scanning all about them. They were right to be concerned, Angie knew; they just didn’t appreciate how frightened they should have been.

  But they would find out soon enough.

  Imperial Beach, once a tightly congested urban sprawl, was silent under a bright-blue sky. Weeds and thick desert grass had sprouted in humanity's absence, but unlike Fresno, which was covered by a forest of green swamp, Imperial Beach remained the desert it had always been. The main street along which the Aztalan brigade advanced was partially blocked by the burned-out remains of cars, and the Aztalan scouts slowly moved around them. The elves had placed or moved many of those wrecks on purpose over the years, creating openings to funnel the invaders into preplanned kill zones. The scouts were leading the brigade exactly where the elves wanted them to.

  Two hundred meters ahead of Angie sat a UPS truck. Once bright white, it was now darkened by soot and rust. Angie thought there might have been a skeleton inside its cab. Surprisingly, the road itself remained in reasonably good shape, with its painted yellow line still visible despite the thigh-high brown weeds growing through the cracks. On either side of the main road sat tightly packed rows of suburban homes. The windows were all broken, the roofs caving in, and garbage lay everywhere, covered in a thick carpet of weeds. Many of the homes were blackened and burned, victims of the fires that had consumed the abandoned cities, yet some of the brick hacienda-style homes remained standing, even if their tiled roofs had long ago fallen in. There was a salty smell to the air from the Pacific Ocean only kilometers away to the west. When it was deathly quiet, as it was now, she could close her eyes and hear the waves crashing against the shore.

  Eighteen years after A-Day, Imperial Beach is a ghost town. Will anything remain in another eighteen
years?

  And will any of us still be around to know?

  Tec reached over and touched her forearm. She turned to see Prince Kilyn and his guard slipping back the way they had come, moving around the end of the Lutheran church. Tec cocked his head, the meaning clear: time to go. She nodded, and he went first, keeping low and out of sight, and she followed. They trailed the two elves through side alleys and backyards, stepping over weed-covered toys. All too soon, they reached the others, a company of elven warriors a hundred strong in the parking lot behind a burned-out hamburger restaurant—Fatty’s Burgers, according to the still-standing sign depicting a cow with a sombrero.

  Angie had eaten a hamburger once during her first year in the Home Guard. They had accidentally shot up a Norteno cow during a raid, and Rowan had insisted Casey fly the carcass back to the Bunker. Most people rarely ate meat anymore, even Home Guard soldiers, so the hamburger had been a real treat, even if she had had to pick out a piece of bullet the size of a pea. Still, the burger had been delicious. She couldn't imagine what it had been like to eat a hamburger whenever she wanted one.

  She joined Tec and the dozen elven section leaders awaiting final orders from the prince. Prince Kilyn stood before them, next to an old map of Imperial Beach that was secured to the side of a rusted-out van behind him.

  Prince Kilyn cleared his throat and used a knife to point to one of the kill zones marked on the map with a red circle filled in with crosshatch lines. "As expected, the lead Aztalan force is the 4th Infantería Brigada, and it’s moving north along their key axis of advance, 9th Street." He indicated the north–south road they had just spied upon from the Lutheran church. The red kill zone sat at the intersection of 9th Street and Imperial Beach Boulevard running east–west. Angie saw a series of additional kill zones along that same boulevard on either side of the one centered on 9th Street. "We'll let the scouts advance past the kill zone and then strike the main body. Be wary, don't let the scouts see you. We want those soldiers out in the open, thinking they have a clear path to the Silver Strand."

  The section leaders watched, their strange faces expressionless. Several jotted notes into small notepads. None of them seemed the least bit worried, but Angie's nerves were charged with excitement—and fear, if she were being honest. The elves wore short swords and fighting knives, and some carried bows. None carried spears, which was odd because spears were the primary fighting weapon of the Phoenix Guard warriors, weapons they spent their lives mastering.

  "The plan is to hit the other Aztalan axis at the same time?" Tec asked, pointing to the other kill zones to the left and right of theirs.

  "Exactly at the same time," Prince Kilyn answered. "We've left the Aztalans untouched so far, with only minor harassment, the odd crossbow bolt or small attack, never a direct engagement, and never prolonged. They think we're running, and they’ll continue to think so—right up until the moment we kick them in the teeth."

  "What's the signal to attack?" Tec asked. "How do you plan to coordinate your other ambush sites? Horns, signal fires?"

  "Radios," Prince Kilyn answered. He nodded to a group of elves standing to the side with backpacks.

  The elves moved forward, distributing small radio sets to each of the squad leaders. For their part, the elves took the radios without comment, turned them on, and verified the channels before securing them. Angie watched open-mouthed. The Fey did use human technology when they wanted—Char had owned several generators—but never had she seen them using radios like this with such nonchalance. She shouldn’t have been surprised, not after learning how Wyn Renna had kept in contact with her mother.

  Tec nodded in satisfaction, the trace of a smile on his features. "Much more effective than horns. The Aztalans are going to be in for an unpleasant surprise."

  "More than you realize," Prince Kilyn said.

  More elves moved forward in groups of two, each pair carrying large and clearly heavy bundles of green fabric, all tightly bound. The elves distributed the bundles to the elven section leaders, and Angie smelled oil. The prince unwrapped one of the bundles, opening the cloth and displaying the military assault rifles within, enough for every elf present. Each bag also contained a single heavy machine gun.

  Now Tec’s eyes shone with satisfaction. "You have enough ammo?"

  "Enough for several days of hard fighting," Prince Kilyn said as more elves carried bandoleers of filled magazines to the section leaders. "There are additional ammo caches all over Imperial Beach. Each warrior knows their location."

  "Grenades, explosives?" Tec asked hopefully.

  Prince Kilyn shook his head, sighing. "Sadly, no. It's taken us years to find and hoard the weapons and ammo—at considerable cost, I'll add. Even for us, the old ruins can be dangerous, and humans are more than willing to kill for weapons like these, the ones you call Ferals in particular. It's taken us the better part of ten years to scrounge all these weapons and ammunition."

  "You've never used them before?" Angie asked. "It's not that easy to hit a target with a rifle."

  "We've used them enough," Prince Kilyn said. "Not as much as we'd like, as ammo is hard to come by, but enough to develop basic proficiency. Don't underestimate elven skill with weapons, even human weapons." He knelt beside the open bundle of weapons and drew two assault rifles out and handed one each to Tec and Angie as well as bandoleers of ammunition.

  Tec inserted a full magazine into his weapon and worked the action, flashing the elven prince a wide grin. "Let's go give the Aztalans a proper welcome."

  Prince Kilyn grinned back and then gripped Tec’s forearm.

  Angie sighed as she loaded her own weapon. Only men could be so excited about killing.

  Fifteen minutes later, Angie lay prone beside Tec in the upper level of a Tuscany-style ranch house, now little more than a shell surrounded by crumbling walls. From here, they had an unobstructed view into the intersection of 9th Street and Beach Boulevard and the Aztalan brigade moving toward it. The Aztalan soldiers were less than a hundred meters away, scanning their surroundings nervously. The entire company of elven warriors, each armed with an assault rifle, were nearby in other buildings, painstakingly camouflaged so that they were almost invisible. The lead Aztalan scouts had all moved past the prepared fighting positions without suspecting a thing. Other elves had been tasked to deal with the scouts after the fighting started.

  Angie gazed over the scope of her rifle, examining the intersection below her. The ruins had once been dense urban sprawl, tightly packed homes, creating a natural barrier but leaving the intersection and much of the street clear of the car wrecks that blocked most other paths. The elves wanted the kill zone clear but the routes out barricaded. She gripped her weapon tightly. The assault rifle was greasy from storage, but she knew the excess gun oil would burn off after the first few shots.

  "Keep your eyes open when you fire," Tec said softly from beside her, his gaze locked on the soldiers below. His words were muffled because of the wads of cloth he had insisted she stuff into her ears.

  "I know," she whispered back, hearing her own words distorted.

  "Be aware of your surroundings. You'd be surprised how focused you become on what's in front of you, and you miss other threats."

  "I know."

  And she did, in theory at least. She had done all the training with the Home Guard, but because she had never worked as one of Nathan's combat mages, she had rarely been exposed to actual combat. Lately, that had changed.

  "Try to count your shots. You'll run out of ammo faster than you realize."

  "I know."

  This time her words carried a hint of annoyance. And he glanced over the stock of his rifle at her and smiled infuriatingly before returning his attention to the enemy. She forced herself to focus on her breathing, on remaining calm. Any second now.

  The first gunshot came as a surprise, causing her to jerk as its retort cracked over the ruined city. She didn't see anyone fall, but the advancing Aztalan soldiers froze. A heartbeat
later, Tec began firing beside her, the report surprisingly loud despite the cloth in her ears. She forced herself to do her job, letting her scope's aiming arrow drop onto one of the Aztalan soldiers standing in the open, a young man. She squeezed the trigger, and the scope jumped away from the target, but not before she had seen the man fall back.

  Another life taken. How many was that now?

  A crescendo of gunshots rang out around her as the elves opened fire, a hundred hidden elves taking aimed shots at an enemy that had nowhere to run. Then a heavy machine gun opened fire from farther away on her left, shockingly loud, followed moments later by another on her right. The machine guns had been placed on the flanks so that they could put enfilade fire directly into the exposed kill zone.

  She acquired another target and fired again. This time she wasn't sure if she had hit or not. By now, screams of alarm and panic were coming from the Aztalan soldiers as they realized they were under attack. The Aztalans fell to the ground, lying prone, but there was no cover here, not in a kill zone. She acted by rote, acquiring targets, letting her scope's aiming arrow drop with her breathing, then holding her breath when the indicator stopped in the center of the visible mass of her target and squeezing the target. Sometimes the target dropped right away; sometimes she had to fire three or four times before moving on to a new target.

  A part of her remembered that she had fired at least twenty-five rounds, but she couldn't remember exactly. Despite her irritation with Tec's mansplaining, she had lost count after all. She fired three more times before the breech on her weapon locked back—the magazine was empty. She changed mags like a pro and commenced firing again.

  The Aztalans were returning fire, but their shots cracked overhead or ricocheted from stone walls. They had only a rough idea of where the ambushers hid. There were dozens of dead Aztalan soldiers in the kill zone now, maybe even a hundred or more, and the remainder milled about in confusion, with officers screaming orders and trying to establish control. Angie switched her aim to one of the officers, but before she could fire, the man's head shattered like a melon, and he fell. She chose another target and shot that one instead. There was only one option when in a kill zone: get off the ‘X,’ go forward or go back, but don’t stay in place. And the enemy must have realized that now, because smoke rose among the Aztalan soldiers as they popped smoke grenades.