Exasperated, Ab glared at me, dropped the Hanner Brid, mumbled something, then put his shoulder and all his strength into the door, rending it along one side as if it were hinged instead of on tracks. He shoved at it a few more times to make sure it was open wide enough. When he noticed me limping slowly toward him, his head lolled to one side, and he sighed.
“Fer cryin’ out loud.” He grabbed me with one arm and easily threw me into a fireman’s carry over one shoulder with the cloak. It hurt, so I screamed, but not like a little girl or anything. He pulled the Hanner Brid under his right arm like a rag doll and headed out and around the train to meet up with the others. I bobbed along on Ab’s shoulder.
Outside, I could see the train was in a very narrow part of the valley less than a hundred yards wide with a sheer wall along the southern edge. The engine car at the rear of the train was derailed and billowing black smoke. Several cars farther up the line were lying on their sides, but every car I could see was pockmarked with the impacts of small, and sometimes heavy, arms fire, though little of it appeared to have punctured the heavily armored outer shell of the cars. Thankfully, only a few bodies lay scattered around the rocky ground.
On the other side of the train, I was surprised to see the Dokkaebi surrounding a small group of winter-camouflaged men—all decidedly human, and very Western or European in complexion—on their knees with their hands over their heads.
“We need to get under cover, quickly,” Gun-jin said, “back into the mountains.”
“Go. Everyone,” I said from my less-than-dignified perch on Ab’s shoulder. Duma knew I was including the prisoners, whom I assumed were mercenaries brought by the Half Breed—and possibly not even voluntarily. There was no way I was leaving these men for the North Koreans to find at the foot of their dead leader. Plus, as prisoners, they would also add credibility to the country’s inquiries about the perpetrator. Without them, the North Koreans would never have anything more than suspicions.
As we headed out, several of the Dokkaebi carried other figures dressed in winter camo across their shoulders in the same way Ab carried me. From my position, I managed to count seven mobile prisoners while the Dokkaebi carried another eight. I didn’t see any injuries among the Dokkaebi, and Ab and Duma were also fine.
Ab was even slower than I had been, so he handed me off to one of the Dokkaebi to carry but continued to shoulder the Hanner Brid. We managed to clear the edge of the valley and head into the mountains before the helis swept in to help.
We traveled until nightfall and stayed under cover of the woods and in caves for three days. The unforgiving terrain of the country, the worsening winter weather, and efforts by the Dokkaebi to hide our trail hampered searches for us, but we had too many injured and wounded to remain hidden.
During our time hiding out in a massive cave system, one of the Dokkaebi offered to fix my dislocated shoulder and set my wrist, but they wanted nothing to do with my bullet wounds. I took them up on their offer and gritted through the pain like a real man, hardly losing consciousness at all. My shoulder instantly felt better, and the makeshift splint for my wrist helped tremendously. My bullet wounds, however, burned like hell. I knew Duma would help with those. In fact, he loved that kind of stuff. Sometimes he can be a real ghoul.
Presenting me with the Glock I’d left on the train before he dug out the bullets, Duma told me what happened from their end as he worked, explaining the entire assault had taken less than twelve minutes. “It went exactly like we figured. He collapsed the tunnels, but Ab and I also decided to take out two power substations in order to disrupt communications along the valley and give us more time. His team rappelled down the steep valley wall to the south and hit the engine cars with Javelin anti-tank missiles, then began their assault, blowing access doors with plastic explosives. We tried to slow them down, but we were on one side of the train, and they were on the other. It took a few minutes since we couldn’t just kill everyone.”
“I appreciate your restraint.” I slowly got up to walk over to the group of mercenaries.
“It was funny as hell,” Duma said with a laugh. “Ab’s full auto shotgun scared the living daylights out of almost everybody when he fired it. He’d open up, and the North Korean soldiers ran for cover—they didn’t know what the heck was happening.”
Ab laughed as he leaned back against a rock next to the fire. Those two had a different view of the world, and I had long ago learned it was simply in their nature.
“You okay?” I asked a tall redheaded kid as I awkwardly lowered myself on my bad leg to sit down next to the surviving mercs.
“Got a splitting headache and no idea where I am or who you are, but otherwise, yeah, I’m okay,” he said.
“Who are you guys?”
“Most of us are former Rangers,” he said. “But those three were Marines. Force Recon.” He pointed at the bodies of three young men with nearly shaved heads. “Far as I know, all of us were either homeless like Evans and Franklin over there, or having a real hard time making a go of things in the civilian world, like me. I don’t know about the rest of these guys, but I responded to an ad on the Internet asking for private military contractors. Said you needed recent combat experience, but you’d get paid extra if you was special ops of some kind. I remember showing up to some shithole office then sitting around meeting these guys and talking about what we’d done in the military and stuff, and the next thing I remember is being surrounded by those funky-looking gorilla-bigfoot things back there in that valley. That’s all I know.” The other stories were similar—none of them remembered much after showing up at some office.
The team the Hanner Brid had assembled consisted of fifteen American men, dressed and equipped like soldiers in the US Army, down to the patches and emblems on their uniforms and dog tags. Two of the eight men had died by my hand inside the train; the rest had been killed by North Korean soldiers defending their leader. They were good guys who, like many soldiers who had seen combat, had a hard time readjusting to civilian life. I doubted the Hanner Brid intended for them to survive, so he could conveniently leave behind a smoking gun that would have pointed directly at the United States.
An idea hit me. I hobbled back over to Ab and sat down.
“I’ve got a suggestion. Most of these guys are former special operations guys,” I said, keeping my voice low so it wouldn’t carry in the cave.
“Yeah, so?” he replied, throwing a rock into the fire.
“Well, Duma mentioned you had an op go bad and you lost some guys before you joined us. Maybe these guys could fill some of those positions?” I figured if they were homeless and willing to follow the Hanner Brid—albeit unaware—they could earn a living working for Ab and Duma. At least with the Peris, these men would get the best equipment and support available.
Ab frowned and bobbled his head as if considering the idea. “I’ll think about it. After we get the hell outta this country.”
Ab was right. We had to get all of them and us the hell out of North Korea, and soon. And I needed to get the fairy-demon piece of trash to Poveglia to stand trial in my stead.
***
Before dawn, we prepared to make our exits. I thanked Gun-jin and his Dokkaebi for their help and told the chieftain I would personally report his tremendous efforts in achieving our goal to Elegast. I also offered my help in return if he should ever require it—assuming it didn’t involve hurting or deceiving humans. Gun-jin was gracious but hard to read. I couldn’t tell if he found our mission to be an imposition or an honorable task. Bae and Jae-Hwa thanked me profusely for giving them permission to wreak havoc on the presidential village and, in gratitude, presented me with a collection of native herbs and plants that they said would help with my healing and pain. It was clear they enjoyed their task. Maybe a little too much.
I asked the Dokkaebi to accompany Ab and the human prisoners direc
tly to Baekdusan and the Ways. I told Ab to either bring the men to Central Park and release them or take them to his training facility and base camp if they agreed—his choice. Despite a myriad of curses and protestations, Duma agreed to help me take our prisoner back to Poveglia, under the condition that he himself wouldn’t have to set foot anywhere near the island ever again.
Chapter 40
Even though I was feeling better—thanks in no small part to the herbs Bae and Jae-Hwa had given me—it still took Duma and me four more days to make it to the portal through the Ways on Baekdu Mountain, dragging a trussed-up, but conscious, Hanner Brid with us. Normally, I wouldn’t have had an issue carrying him, but I clearly didn’t heal as fast as he did. In fact, I was seriously concerned that he appeared healthier with each passing day. Our slow progress wasn’t only due to my condition. We purposely traveled by night and took a particularly difficult route back to ensure the North Koreans wouldn’t be able to track us easily.
Sitting under a rocky outcropping to stay out of the snow before we began the final climb up the mountain, I decided it was as good a time as any to start questioning the Hanner Brid.
“Okay, truth is, all I really want to know is why?” I said to him, removing a gag from around his mouth. “What in the hell could you possibly stand to gain from all this—setting me up with both fairy courts, inciting further unrest in unstable human governments, going after members of other secret human groups, crap like that?”
Predictably, he said nothing and merely eyed me with seething hatred.
“You don’t strike me as ambitious enough to be doing this on your own. I mean, you were hiding out in Coronini rather than some secret lair. Why? The whole thing comes across like you just wanted to cause chaos in the world.”
“Maybe he’s figured out that stuff Medea was doing back in that mountain in Iran—harnessing the power of chaos or something,” Duma said, raising his eyebrows.
At the mention of Medea’s name, the Hanner Brid’s eyes shifted directly to Duma.
“Wait, do you know that name?” I asked. “You do know her, don’t you? Were you working for her? With her? You know she’s dead, right? I killed her.”
“I honor my contracts,” the Hanner Brid said, his voice cracking. “Besides, this world has always treated me as an outcast. What do I care if it tears itself apart?” He glanced first at Duma, then at me, then out into the snowy landscape beyond.
“How noble of you to follow through,” I said. “But what’s with the vampire thing?”
The Hanner Brid coughed until he spat up a thick gobbet of blood. “I’m done talking, bruchad. Take me to Poveglia, and let’s get it over with.”
“Okay, will someone tell me what the fuck bruchad means?” I asked, sitting up in a fair amount of pain to glower at Duma.
“It means trash in his language,” the Hanner Brid said. “In fact, it’s an insult specifically used to describe humans, isn’t it?”
“Seriously,” I said, painfully leaning in to backhand Duma’s shoulder. “I knew it. You prick.”
Duma cringed, feigning innocence.
I knew I didn’t like that word. I would settle up with Duma about that one later.
Knowing that the Hanner Brid was involved with Medea worried me. I wondered how far her network to spread and create chaos extended. The psychotic witch was dead, and this guy was all but finished, too. In my experience, the Hanner Brid’s attitude was an outlier. Loyalty to a cause was one thing, but it was uncommon among those with power—they commanded rather than obeyed it. Still, I would have to let Athena know the connection was worth following up. After that, no one spoke until we left.
After only two jumps from Baekdusan, we arrived in a wooded area on the island of Alberoni on the north side of Porto di Malamocco off Venice. Duma said it was the closest he would get to Poveglia, which lay a few miles north of us inside the Venetian Lagoon.
I gladly stripped off the winter camo jumpsuit, cut to hell and bloody as it was, while I babysat our prisoner so Duma could procure a boat. I was sore but healing, though I would definitely need to see a doctor as soon as I made it home and probably spend a month in hiding, which I judged I’d earned.
That evening, once activity slowed in the small waterfront town, I wrapped the Hanner Brid in the cloak to avoid prying eyes, and Duma and I carried him down to the boat. Unwilling to set foot on Poveglia again, the Peri stayed behind, so I headed across the lagoon to Spooky Island, not knowing if Duma would wait for me or not. I was leaning toward not, but after all he’d done for me over the past weeks, I was okay with that. Frankly, I really didn’t know what would happen even if I presented the Unseelie Court with the real culprit behind the whole mess. They still might kill me anyway.
The run across the lagoon took me twenty minutes, and I docked and carried the demon-fae into the interior of the island. I could see and feel the cold, dark tendrils of energy from the island’s genius loci envelop me as I walked. Before I made it a hundred yards, I found myself surrounded by Dreaich guards outside the shell of a building.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” said the singsong female voice I knew belonged to Belphoebe.
“I told you I’d find the prick.” I dropped the body and rolled him out of the cloak to reveal the Hanner Brid’s bruised and battered form.
I was exhausted down to my bones. Part of me was relieved, but the rest remained wary. I had no idea what would happen next. At least this time I’m armed.
Belphoebe was dressed in her formal dark-blue armor; the scales lining her long skirt glinted in the moonlight. Her eyes were equally as brilliant, and her dark hair was pulled into a tight braid down her back. She held her bow loosely in one hand as she walked out through a crumbling doorway toward us.
“Bring them both,” she said with a smug air of satisfaction and a predatory smile.
The fae huntress and I walked a short distance surrounded by the Dreaich, who also, thankfully, dragged the Hanner Brid. We passed among the ruins of several other buildings, through the heavy overgrowth of trees and shrubs, and into a clearing, where the ground parted like elevator doors to reveal stairs. We headed down the earthen stairway as the entry closed above us, and the walls began to glow in the same eerie fashion I remembered from my lovely respite there. It gave me the chills. If any of them so much as picked their nose in an aggressive manner, I would start swinging.
The walk along the featureless subterranean hall lasted only a few minutes before we came to a dead end. Belphoebe raised her hand, and the Dreaich surrounding us dropped the Hanner Brid in a heap—which made me smile. The wall opened, allowing Belphoebe to pass through, then quickly closed again. I eyed the Dreaich and their exquisite black greatcoats. Actually, they looked cool, but there was no way in hell I’d ever admit it to them.
We waited for a good fifteen minutes in stark silence, broken only by the Hanner Brid’s wheezing breaths, which given all I’d been through, were far too even and regular for my liking. Finally, the wall opened again.
“Lord Diomedes, son of Tydeus, Guardian protector of humankind and proctor of Lady Andunail,” said the gray fairy who had translated for me during my last visit.
As he ushered me forth, the Dreaich in front of me parted, and I hobbled forward, followed by my retinue of not-quite elite royal guard dragging the Hanner Brid. We passed into the same massive, dimly lit chamber where I had been accused of killing Indronivay. Its creepy, cave-like feel hadn’t improved with my situation in the least. I proceeded into the now-empty cavern, stood next to Belphoebe, then faced the tribunal. Again. This time, only a single figure sat at the bench upon the stage—the hooded form of Duchess Nicnevin. Despite my injuries, I bowed in deference to her authority and position as Mab’s proctor.
“You may speak,” Nicnevin said, her shrill voice penetrating my skull like a dentist’s drill.
&
nbsp; “Thank you, Duchess. I apologize for the misunderstanding that I may have caused on my previous… visit to this forum.” I motioned at my surroundings, despite the lack of peanuts in the gallery.
Unexpectedly, I found my mind racing. I had to figure out a way to make it seem as if the whole situation were all my fault and paint Duchess Nicnevin and the Unseelie Court as blameless. Otherwise, I could start an entirely new conflict between us and them—or at least me and them. After all, I did escape and kill a few of their guys in the process. Even so, what I desperately wanted to say was, “Here, you old bat—I told you I didn’t do this, but you wouldn’t listen, you uptight, autocratic, overbearing, shriveled old bitch.” I managed to corral my thoughts before I spoke, though. Apparently, I do have a brain-mouth filter after all.
“I… was fortunate enough to uncover the perpetrator of the… heinous and cowardly crime against Her Majesty, you, Lady Belphoebe, and indeed the entire Unseelie Court—namely the murder of Her Highness’s Warmaster, Lord Indronivay. Given the skill and manner in which this crime was perpetrated, I am flattered that the Court might find me skilled enough to have accomplished the craven act. However, I respectfully submit the true culprit.” I gestured at the trussed-up form of the Hanner Brid beside me. “A criminal not only to the Unseelie, but to all fae and indeed every race, including my own. A being so vile and cunning, he was believed to be mere myth and legend—a creature known as the Hanner Brid, a half-breed being partly of traitorous fae blood. He alone is responsible for the tragic death of Lord Indronivay, as well as Duke Goibniu of the Seelie Court and dozens, if not hundreds, of others over millennia.”
“He speaks true, my lady,” Belphoebe said. “Lord Elegast will attest to the same if you so deem it. While the Lord Guardian may indeed be guilty of many crimes against our people, Lord Indronivay’s death is the responsibility of this creature. The Lord Guardian has done Her Majesty a service.”
Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2) Page 34
