We had arrived at Last Judge Mountain.
“Let’s go,” said Swathe, unstrapping from his seat and getting to his feet.
I ignored him and looked at Murdo and Russell. “Keep your eyes open, guys. Nicholas might try something before we even get into the mountain.”
“I said let’s go!” snapped Swathe.
I looked at him and smiled. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak asshole. Could you try that again in English?”
Swathe started to puff up, his face reddening.
“Mitchell,” said Morelli, his voice flat.
Swathe looked at him, deflated, and then glared back at me.
“I look forward,” spat Swathe, “to watching Connor deal with you.”
With that, he turned and stalked out of the helicopter.
“And I’m afraid you’re wrong, Miss Moran,” said Morelli, getting to his feet. “I suspect asshole is your native language.”
“Takes one to know one,” I said.
Morelli, as ever, did not respond and exited the helicopter without another word.
“Swathe really doesn’t like you,” said Russell. “Like, Hailey doesn’t like you, and Morelli and Leonid would shoot you and not lose a wink of sleep. But Swathe seems to hate you the way that Corbisher hates you.”
“Yeah, well,” I said. “Corbisher’s a scumbag, but I did wreck his life. Swathe’s just petty. He’s never going to forgive me for making him look bad in front of his boss.”
“And he’s going to try and get his payback now,” said Murdo, checking his AK-47. “The first chance he gets. The minute the deal is done, he’s going to try to kill you. Probably before Nicholas even gives the word.”
“Probably,” I said. “Though he’ll have to fight Corbisher for the chance.” I shook my head. “Let’s get this over with.”
We clambered out of the helicopter. Swathe and Morelli stood between the two choppers. A dozen Rebel soldiers waited before us, and they gave me and Russell curious looks. Murdo, with his tough appearance and tactical outfit, looked like one of them. Nicholas and the others emerged from Leonid’s helicopter, and I saw Nicholas carrying a golden medallion in his right hand. He slipped it into a pouch in his belt as he walked.
I had seen medallions like that several times. It was adorned with the stylized nine-pointed symbol that represented the Dark Ones, and a minor spell of dark magic was on it. Those medallions let Dark Ones cultists identify each other, and they had a nasty trick. If a wizard cast the rift way spell while holding one, the medallion’s magic would twist the rift way to go to the citadel of Venomhold in the Shadowlands.
I had found that one out the hard way.
But that was one of the reasons the High Queen hadn’t been able to destroy the Rebels. If they got into trouble, the Rebel Gatekeepers had only to cast the rift way spell with one of those medallions, and the Rebels could retreat to Venomhold and out of the reach of the Elves.
I wondered why Nicholas had brought one with him. I doubted he would tell me if I asked. Maybe he wanted to move the Sky Hammer weapon, whatever it was, to Venomhold as soon as he found it.
“Report,” said Nicholas as he strode towards the soldiers.
One of the soldiers stepped forward and saluted. He was a paunchy middle-aged man with a gray beard (a tactical harness is not a flattering look with a beer belly), and I recognized him. His name was Brian Vernon, and he had been smuggling weapons for the Rebels. Murdo and I had blown up his base a few weeks ago, right before we went to Milwaukee and stumbled into Lorenz’s plot.
Guess the Rebels had reassigned him since I had blown up his truck. Good thing I had been Cloaked the entire time, else he might have held a grudge.
“Overseer, sir,” said Vernon. “There has been no activity from the mountain since our last report.”
I scowled at him. “Wait, activity?”
Both Nicholas and Vernon looked at me. Vernon seemed startled, while Nicholas was only calm.
“Yes?” said Nicholas. “You have a question?”
“This place has been abandoned for three hundred years,” I said. “Why is there activity?”
“As I mentioned earlier,” said Nicholas, “the Last Judge facility was built using secret technology, and the US government had some…projects, shall we say, underway here. Some of those projects remain active.”
“Great,” I said.
Nicholas gestured. “Care to have a look?”
I frowned at him but nodded, and we walked across the makeshift base. I followed Nicholas, Murdo and Russell fell in behind me, and the rest of Nicholas’s crew brought up the back, Vernon and his soldiers following. I suppose we made a well-armed little parade.
We walked past the trailers, and I looked at the dusty valley at the foot of the mountain. The end of the valley terminated in a cliff face of rough stone, maybe half a mile from where I now stood. There were a lot of boulders and scrubby little bushes scattered around the valley, but there was no sign that humans had ever been here…
Wait.
At the foot of the cliff, I saw an archway carved into the rock. It looked wide enough and tall enough to handle two semi trucks driving through it at once.
“That’s it?” I said.
“Yes,” said Nicholas with satisfaction. “The entrance to Last Judge Mountain.”
“Hard to believe they built it all out here,” I said. “There’s not even a road.”
“There used to be,” said Murdo, pointing. “Look. You can see the depression in the ground where the road used to be. There are still chunks of asphalt.” Now that he pointed it out, I could see it. “A few centuries of freezing at night and baking during the day probably broke the road up, and the wind blew dust over it.”
“Most probably,” said Nicholas. “And all memory of Last Judge Mountain was lost…until we found it again.”
“Good for us,” I said. “How are we going to play this?”
“I am going into the mountain to retrieve the weapon,” said Nicholas. “You will accompany me, along with Corbisher, Swathe, Hailey, Morelli, and Leonid. I assume you’ll want to bring Murdo and your brother along since they seem to follow you everywhere.”
“Yep,” I said.
Nicholas smiled. “They would, of course, be much safer waiting for you here.”
“Sure they would,” I said. Which would make Russell into a hostage when the time came to fight. “But they both enjoy history. Like you said, why let them pass up a chance to see it firsthand?”
The people Nicholas had chosen to accompany him would be useful in a fight. Corbisher and Hailey were both wizards and Gatekeepers. Swathe was a jackass, but he knew how to handle himself, and both Morelli and Leonid had the quiet, unobtrusive competence of deadly killers.
When the fighting started, it would be me, Murdo, and Russell against the six Rebels. Bad odds, that.
“As you wish, then,” said Nicholas. “Vernon!”
“Sir?” said Vernon, hurrying over.
“Tell Turner to keep the helicopters fueled and ready,” said Nicholas. “And also have the men ready to bring one of the trucks into the entrance. We may need it quickly. Remain on guard here until we return.”
“Sir,” said Vernon.
I looked at the mountain entrance again, and then a flicker of motion caught my eye.
Was something moving inside?
No. It was just an optical illusion, caused by the rippling of the heat waves from the valley floor.
Or was it? I thought I saw something moving closer to the base, something pale flickering through the underbrush.
“Rory,” I said as Nicholas kept issuing instructions to Vernon. “Do you see that?”
“I thought I saw something move,” said Murdo.
“So did I. Nicholas. Nicholas!”
He frowned and turned away from Vernon. “Yes?”
“Something’s moving out there,” I said.
That got a reaction. Not from Nicholas, but from Vernon. The Rebel soldie
r took several steps back, an expression of fear going over his face before he got himself under control.
“Sir,” said Vernon. “I suggest we withdraw to the trailers right now. They haven’t been able to get inside the trailers before, and gave up and retreated after a few moments.”
“They?” I said. “Just who the hell are they?”
A second question occurred to me then, and one that was far more disturbing.
“Wait,” I said. “Are they coming out of the mountain?”
Nicholas started to speak, and then Vernon started shouting.
“Shit!” said Vernon. “Quick! Action stations! They’re coming, they’re coming! Get to the trailers! Get to the trailers!”
I look back towards the mountain, and my eyes went wide.
It was a sunny, hot desert day, and the valley floor was rippling with heat. Yet dozens of currents of pale white mist flowed across the ground. The weather was completely wrong for mist, and smoke didn’t act like that.
But I had seen those currents of white mist before.
Not once before, but many, many times.
“Wraithwolves!” I shouted. “Wraithwolves are coming!” I started summoning magical force for a spell. “Russell, stay by Murdo and me!” Murdo also began a spell. “They’re…”
As one, the currents of pale mist hardened into the gaunt, terrifying forms of dozens of wraithwolves.
Wraithwolves are creatures of the Shadowlands, and unlike anthrophages, they’re immune to normal bullets. You need magic or a lot of kinetic force (like explosions) to deal with them. They sort of look like wolves, but are much bigger and faster. Despite their bulk, they always seem gaunt and lean, like starving wolves prowling a barren forest in the dead of winter. Strange bony armor covered their long bodies and their heads, making it look as if they wore a second skeleton or perhaps a suit of armor. Their black fur was ragged and stringy, and their eyes burned with a red gleam.
Suddenly I was back in the Eternity Crucible, fighting for my life in Arvalaeon’s twisted little simulation of a town as packs of wraithwolves stalked me through the streets. I had been killed by wraithwolves so many times. Usually, they did it by ripping out my throat. That was when I was lucky. Other times, they had hamstrung me, and I had fallen, and they had started ripping out my guts while I was still alive.
That had been much less enjoyable.
I heard someone snarling and realized that it was me.
Nicholas shouted something, but the order was lost in the roar as dozens of wraithwolves charged at us at once.
Instinct and reflex took over, and I summoned magical power and started killing.
I called fire to my hand, shaping it into a sphere, and an effort of my will sent it shooting forward. The sphere blasted through the skull of the nearest wraithwolf, sending its carcass smoking to the ground, and I kept the sphere hurtling forward. It drilled through the skulls of seven wraithwolves in rapid succession, their bodies collapsing to the earth with smoking craters in their heads. Next to me, Murdo called a blade of searing elemental force to his right hand, so hot the air rippled around it, and he lopped off wraithwolf skulls and limbs with swift, economical flicks of his sword. I had seen him use that sword to saw through a steel bar as thick as my leg in the Royal Bank.
Nicholas, Hailey, and Corbisher all cast spells. Nicholas and Hailey both threw blasts of shadowy fire, the dark magic drawn from the Dark Ones that inhabited their bodies. The spells hit the wraithwolves and withered them, turning them into desiccated husks. Corbisher cast globes of lightning. He wasn’t strong enough to kill the wraithwolves, but he shocked them enough for Nicholas or Hailey to kill them.
The rest of the Rebels didn’t fare quite as well.
I saw Vernon go down with a scream, a wraithwolf’s jaws snapping shut around his throat. Maybe a half-dozen other soldiers died in that instant, killed by the wraithwolves. Morelli, Swathe, and Leonid retreated, firing their guns at the creatures. That didn’t do very much good. The kinetic impacts of the bullets rocked the wraithwolves, but it didn’t hurt them.
For an instant, I considered grabbing Murdo and Russell and getting the hell out of there. If Nicholas got killed fighting the wraithwolves, that by default canceled the Forerunner’s deal with Morvilind. If I could Cloak myself and Russell and Murdo, we could steal one of those heavy trucks and escape.
Two things stopped me.
One, the way Nicholas was tearing through the wraithwolves, he was going to win. The Rebels would lose some soldiers, but Nicholas and Hailey would clear out the wraithwolves in the end.
Second…God, I hated wraithwolves. I absolutely hated them. And I hated to see the damned vicious things tearing people apart, even if they were my enemies.
I guess Nicholas was right. Maybe I was sentimental. Maybe the smart thing to do would have been to run and let the wraithwolves go to town.
Instead, I called more magical power and unleashed spells. I hurled a volley of ice spikes, spearing the wraithwolves through the heart. My lightning globes hit hard enough to kill, and my volleys of magical fire burned through their brains. Murdo fought next to me, the elemental sword a blur in his right hand, and sometimes he threw a pair of lightning globes. Somehow, he seemed to be getting faster and stronger as the fight went on. Maybe he was just warming up.
Russell remained between us, AK-47 in both hands, though he was smart enough not to waste ammo on something he couldn’t hurt.
I sought another wraithwolf to kill, and couldn’t find one.
We had killed them all.
But I still wanted to kill more. I was in the Eternity Crucible, and I wanted to kill and kill until my enemies were piles of smoking char around me, and…
With an effort of will, I dialed back the rage. Wasn’t easy, but I managed it.
“You okay?” I said to Russell.
He nodded, his face grave.
“Nicholas,” I ground out.
“You’re still alive?” said Nicholas, shadow fire still snarling around his fingers.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the mountain had magical defenses?” I snapped.
“I told you that the automated defenses defeated our first several attempts to enter,” said Nicholas. “Which is why I had you steal that data rod, and which is why you are here.”
“Goddamn it, Nicholas,” I snapped. “You just got a lot of your men killed with your stupidity, and…”
“Connor,” said Murdo, interrupting me.
I glared at him, and then my brain caught up to my mouth. Nicholas’s inner circle was used to my mouth, but most of his soldiers weren’t. Many of the survivors were looking at me with a mixture of fear and alarm. I had probably killed half of the wraithwolves on my own, and Murdo another third of them. And if this crazy wizard challenged their commander, God only knew how those soldiers would react.
I made myself shut up.
“Why are there wraithwolves coming from inside Last Judge?” said Murdo. “Humans had no access to the Shadowlands until the Conquest, and this place was built before the High Queen’s invasion.”
“Strictly speaking,” said Nicholas, “that’s not true. Humans did have access to dark magic and summoning spells thanks to the Dark Ones and their cults. Did you think that was entirely the efforts of private individuals? No. Governments researched the Dark Ones as well, sometimes extensively.”
“Then you’re saying the pre-Conquest government was summoning Dark Ones?” I said.
“Most probably,” said Nicholas. “As for why wraithwolves are coming out of Last Judge Mountain…I honestly don’t know.” I scoffed. “I don’t know, Kat. Why do you think I am taking the risk of bringing you with me? The reason is that I might need your help to claim the Sky Hammer.”
I didn’t say anything. I almost told Nicholas that he had gotten his men killed for nothing. But we had already had that conversation, hadn’t we? He was doing this in pursuit of those imaginary future generations and abstract people inside his
head. The men who had gotten killed, the real men who had just died, meant nothing to him. They were only another step to his goal.
Can’t make an omelet without breaking a few million eggs along the way, right?
“Who was Vernon’s second in command?” called Nicholas.
“He was, sir,” said a skinny young man in fatigues, nodding at a man missing his throat and most of his face.
“Damn it,” said Nicholas. “All right. Swathe, take charge here.” Swathe nodded. “Get the bodies cleaned up and get ready to clear out. I expect to return with the Sky Hammer within twelve hours.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but you don’t know that, do you?”
He turned a cold smile in my direction. “That’s why you’re here, Miss Moran. Come along.”
Chapter 8: One Bullet
We walked towards the cliff face at the end of the valley, heading towards the tunnel entrance to the Last Judge complex.
Nicholas, Murdo, and I walked in front. Nicholas and I were the strongest wizards, and Murdo was by far the most dangerous in hand-to-hand combat. Russell walked behind me, AK-47 in hand, and Morelli, Corbisher, and Leonid Rogomil brought up the back. I was glad that Nicholas had ordered Swathe to take charge at the base.
One less hostile gun at my back.
I tried to keep watch on both the Rebels and the entrance to the Last Judge base and the rest of the valley as we walked, but nothing else moved. It grew hotter and hotter as the sun rose higher in the sky, and the others were sweating freely. Not me, though. I held my magic ready to strike, which chilled me.
Come to think of it, Nicholas, Corbisher, Hailey, and Murdo weren’t sweating, either. They must have been holding their spells, too.
Cloak Games: Last Judge Page 13
