Ranger

by William Stacey

  The wyvern he had been aiming at screamed and dropped, smashing into the crater and sending its boggarts tumbling. A bright flare of light erupted, followed by the whoosh of a rocket as one soldier fired a Stinger missile. The missile detonated a moment later, enveloping one wyvern in a fireball and sending shrapnel cutting apart two others. But the surviving wyverns dropped their cargo before rising and flying away again—leaving more than a platoon of enemy warriors in their rear while the boggarts in the gorge cheered and surged forward, no doubt smelling victory.

  Alex gripped Martinez's shoulder and screamed into his ear, "Take charge. Hold them!"

  Martinez kept shooting. "Go!"

  Alex spun, saw Lee with his section of infantry, and motioned for them to follow him. "Let's go!"

  The enemy boggarts now clustered together, preparing to charge into the rear of the defenders. Lee and his soldiers joined Alex, cutting them off, but they were so close, less than fifty paces away. This was about to get messy.

  Excitement filled Lee's voice. "Call it!"

  "Fix bayonets!" Alex yelled, pulling his own bayonet from its scabbard on his vest and fumbling it into place with a click on the end of his Tac rifle.

  The other soldiers had formed a line on either side of Alex and Lee, and their own bayonets clicked into place now.

  "This is insane," Lee said breathlessly. "We're really gonna do this?"

  Unlike the boggarts charging up the gorge, these were less well armed, with only short swords and hand axes, but those were perfect weapons for hand-to-hand fighting.

  "On my command!" Alex yelled. "Ready!"

  "Ready!" Lee and the others parroted, holding their weapons at the hip, bayonets thrust forward.

  The boggarts charged, their fishlike faces filled with rage.

  "Forward!" Alex yelled, firing his Tac rifle in short bursts.

  The others screamed war cries and opened fire as well, and the two forces collided seconds later in a maelstrom of violence. Alex shot at least four boggarts, emptying his weapon. A boggart swung an ax at him, and he caught the ax head on his rifle's stock before butt-smashing the boggart in the face, hearing bones crunch. He saw a soldier—Lee, he thought—bayonet one boggart in the chest. His bayonet must have stuck, because he couldn't pry it loose, so instead, he fired, and the weapon sprang free in a spray of blood. Something smashed into Alex from the side, sending him flying. His weapon empty, he drew Witch-Bane as the boggart rushed in to finish the job and skewered the warrior in the center of his torso, cutting loose one of its small inner arms before plunging through the chest. Alex rose and used his boot against the dying boggart to yank his sword free. Around him, men, women, and boggarts fought savagely. Two boggarts held a soldier on the ground while another hammered his ax into his face, smashing through the visor. Alex moved to help, but three more boggarts came at him. He caught a sword swing on his blade and swept it up and away before lashing out with the reverse strike, cutting through both of the boggart's huge black eyes. An ax head hammered into his hip, and pain coursed down his leg. He stumbled back, just avoiding a second blow. Off-balance now, he tried to lunge forward, anyway, but his leg throbbed painfully, and his attack lacked speed. The boggart parried him easily before drawing back and waiting for the third boggart, who held his short sword low. They'll come together, Alex knew.

  The ground shook as Liv appeared in her rig. She slammed into one boggart, sending it flying. The other boggart hesitated, and Alex drove his sword point through its open mouth, smashing aside rows of jagged teeth before severing the boggart's spinal column. Liv spun, bringing her arm-mounted needle launchers up and sending a salvo of fléchettes that cut apart a half dozen more boggarts. Even without her magic to help her, she couldn't miss at this range. Another boggart surged forward, swinging a sword at her. She caught the blade on her arm, sparks flying from the impact, then kicked the boggart in the chest, sending the warrior flying at least thirty feet, its chest crushed. The surviving boggarts dropped to their knees, throwing down their weapons and screaming for mercy in Empire Common. Lee and a handful of his soldiers were still on their feet, pointing rifles at the boggarts.

  "If they move, kill them!" Alex yelled.

  Lee nodded, keeping his eye on the enemy over the barrel of his Tac rifle.

  Out of breath, pain running through his left leg, Alex staggered back to help Martinez, but the boggarts were in retreat once more, and Martinez was screaming at the soldiers to hold fire. Alex, his heart pounding and sweat drenching his face, bent over at the waist, his hands on his thighs, and gasped huge sobs of air. They'd held.

  Leela stood just in front of the floating meteorite, her Brace-enclosed left hand held palm out only inches from the stone. Her skull throbbed, and she felt drunk with occult energy, having no memory of approaching the meteorite.

  "Leela, no!" Ylra yelled from behind.

  Once again, a ghostly voice whispered in Leela's ear. Snowbird.

  She placed the Brace against the meteorite.

  45

  Valentin watched through field binoculars as the boggart cohorts fled back down the gorge. He lowered his binoculars, his emotions conflicted. The airborne insertion had failed, which, while disappointing, was not surprising. The ploy had always worked in the past but never against an opponent armed with assault rifles. Still, he felt an inappropriate sense of pride that men, even though they were opponents, had twice beaten a vastly numerically superior force. It reminded him of the three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae. But then he remembered what Kaladania wanted, and his mood turned foul. More men will die now, for no good reason. The end of this battle was never in doubt. Damn you, Alex. You should have accepted my terms.

  Dimmi whispered, "She's coming."

  Of course the bitch is coming. She loves these weapons. He watched Kaladania storm forward, her two toadies, Nerilac and Ferial, following so closely that if she halted, their heads would go up her ass. Behind the trio of dark elves, looking unhappy, was Trident Commander Za-zalgar 'Urth, whose warriors had endured the fighting this day—and taken all the losses. But it had always been thus. The boggarts bled while the fae ruled. Za-zalgar 'Urth had as little choice in this fight as Valentin did.

  He placed his fist across his chest and bowed. "Princess Kaladania."

  The sneer she wore belied her beautiful features, revealing her true ugliness. "Enough of this foolishness, Wolf. Use your special weapons. Drive the manling scum from the cliffs."

  Empty inside, his soul stained, he agreed. "As you command, Your Highness."

  Her teeth flashed white with excitement as she spun away. Only Dimmi and Za-zalgar 'Urth remained.

  Valentin faced the boggart commander. "Prepare your warriors. You understand the danger, yes?"

  "I understand, Wolf," the boggart said. He reached out with one of his muscular outer arms and gripped Valentin's shoulder. "I also understand the price you pay. You have my gratitude, my respect, and my cavernous sorrow."

  Valentin placed his hand atop the boggart's shoulder and squeezed. "Make certain your warriors know they'll have only minutes, and if the winds change…"

  "We shall be ready, Wolf, and we'll take as many alive as we can."

  "Thank you."

  "May your young swim freely, my friend."

  It was noon when the boggart forces mustered for a third assault. Alex knelt beside Martinez, estimating the enemy's strength. This time they looked to be sending at least six cohorts forward, nearly twelve hundred warriors. Too many for one attack. They'd get in each other's way and create a mass of targets. Even now, stinking corpses filled the gorge, turning putrid in the heat. The stench of blood and feces drove the flies mad. Their constant droning was like a storm. He shook his head, feeling admiration and horror for the boggarts coming once more into certain death. Why are they doing this?

  "How we doing for ammo?" he asked Martinez.

  "Better than I expected. Probably sixty-five percent combat load remaining. More than enough to hold off t
his attack and a few more just like it." The older warrior's voice carried a trace of disbelief and disgust. "They can't keep coming. It's pointless. Even with their numbers, they can't support so many casualties."

  "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it's the boggarts doing the dying, not the dark elves. Sure as hell not the Russians."

  "I'll be honest, sir. I'm not sure I see the point in fighting the Russians, not anymore."

  "Their choice, not ours."

  The boggarts beat their drums, and the first cohort entered the pass, with others forming behind.

  Alex's anger simmered as the boggarts marched forward into the slaughterhouse. "If I get the chance, I'm going to put a bullet through that asshole Russian's forehead."

  "Not stopping you."

  Alex activated his radio. "Weapons hold. On my order. Pick your shots and conserve ammo. Doesn't seem as if they're tired of dying yet, but we'll teach them to leave us be."

  The boggarts kept coming.

  Valentin watched his men drop the first yellow-painted mortar round into the tube. The mortar detonated, kicking up smoke and dirt as the round arced away toward the peak of the gorge. "May God have mercy on my soul," he whispered.

  "Incoming!" Alex yelled when he heard the whine of the mortar round.

  They took cover behind their fighting positions, but the explosive detonated behind them, releasing a cloud of green-yellow smoke. For a single confused moment, Alex assumed the round a dud or misfire, but when a whiff of garlic caught in his nostrils, a chill swept through him. "Gas! Gas! Gas!" he yelled, knowing his warning was pointless—the Strike Force hadn't deployed with gas masks.

  His eyes watered, his throat burned, and he coughed, as did the others. Some soldiers repeated the gas warning, and more mortar rounds impacted behind them, spreading more brown-yellow clouds. His heart pounding, Alex wrapped his shemagh scarf over his mouth. Others did the same or pulled their collars up. It did nothing.

  The boggarts blew horns and charged forward up the gorge. Alex fired his weapon, as did others, but the fire was ineffective. Men and women fled, coughing and gasping, stumbling back toward the crater that led to the tunnel. We can't hold, he realized with horror.

  "Pull back!" he ordered into his radio and gasped for air, his throat burning. He fell to his knees but kept speaking. "Tunnel… tunnel… go underground." Spit soaked his scarf, and mucous flowed from his nose. His eyes burned, and his vision blurred. "Go…"

  Others were yelling, coughing, and gasping. Soldiers darted back, abandoning their positions. Someone smashed into Alex and staggered away.

  "Go… go," he gasped, unwilling to leave until everyone else was gone.

  He stumbled to one of the fighting positions, found it abandoned, and moved to another, making sure they were empty. In the gorge, the boggarts waited, their faces covered by cloth. They'll wait until the smoke clears, Alex knew, then seize the ground. God damn you, Valentin! I'll kill you for this.

  Each breath was agony, like filling his lungs with fire, but he had to make sure his troops had pulled back. Alex fumbled a 40mm grenade into his launcher and fired it into the massed ranks of waiting boggarts, enjoying their screams when the grenade detonated among them.

  He bent over, gasping for air as the pain in his lungs intensified. His rifle fell from his fingers, and he slammed forward into the ground, croaking for air like a beached fish.

  Someone grabbed him and flipped him over. He saw Martinez's face as the other man gripped Alex's shoulders and dragged him back. The boggarts surged forward, coming over the lip of the gorge. Another man joined Martinez, firing his rifle in bursts at the boggarts, and Alex saw it was Lee. Then someone else was there, Liv, and Alex was lifted into the air and carried down the path to the crater.

  He must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, he was inside the tunnel and could breathe again, although each breath hurt. The soldiers had taken up defensive positions near the tunnel entrance, hugging the walls. But many lay coughing, hacking, and wheezing, while others had large water blisters forming over their faces and hands. But they were out of the gas.

  46

  The moment Leela touched the Brace to the meteorite, she found herself transported through time and space, standing once more upon the same smooth black-glass plane she had been when she touched Witch-Bane's gleaming red metal with the Brace for the first time. And as before, the crimson stars blazed above, a cosmic light show that defied description. Then the ghostly whispers began again, starting as a low buzz, then rushed at her, growing thunderous in intensity, bombarding her from all directions, speaking as one, pleading in Dwarven.

  "Help us!"

  And then silence and darkness dropped upon her so profoundly it left her shaking. She turned in place, seeing only black. "Hello. Veraxia? Ylra? Anyone?" Her words echoed as if she were standing at the bottom of an endless well.

  Snowbird. Just before she had touched the meteorite with the Brace, she had been certain she had heard the voice call her. Her mother's voice.

  "Mom?" she asked the darkness. "Are you there?"

  Silence. Her mother wasn't here.

  Of course her mother wasn't here, wherever here was. How could she be? She had been dead for many years now. She didn't even remember her, not really. She remembered a smiling young woman with dark hair and a large gap between her front teeth. She remembered laughter, riotous giggling, but in truth, Leela never knew if those memories were of her mother or someone else… or merely a dream. There was a single picture, a faded photograph of a young woman in traditional Dane-zaa wisewoman clothing. She had kept that picture all her life, only losing it in the fire that had claimed their cabin during the boggart attack.

  Her mother had been a medicine woman. The older tribe members, those who still held to the ancient ways, told Leela that the spirits had gifted her mother with second sight—but the gift was also a curse that haunted her and drove her insane. The truth, Leela had learned as she grew older, was that her mother was an alcoholic, a drug addict, and a manic depressive prone to prolonged disappearances. She had vanished for good while Leela was still a baby but only after naming her the legendary Snowbird, prophesying she would one day become the spiritual savior of the Dane-Zaa people. The elders took her mother seriously, keeping the nickname alive long after she had disappeared for good. When their father had died in a lumber accident a year later, her father's brother and his wife raised Leela and Yancy, treating them like their own children, raising them among their many cousins. Her childhood had been as normal and happy a life as you could have when raised by someone other than your own parents. But the nickname Snowbird, the final prophesy of her wisewoman mother, stuck with her. She hated that nickname. It reminded her of what she had lost—a mother's love.

  Years later, the RCMP came to Doig River with news of her mother's death. She had died alone, broken, a victim of her addictions. Leela hadn't thought of her mother in years, but now the sorrow surged anew and threatened to burst her heart. Unbidden, unexpected, tears rolled down her cheeks, and she gasped huge sobs.

  But then warmth spread through her, a wave of love so strong she felt as though her skin would glow.

  Don't cry, my daughter, a voice whispered in her head, silent but somehow speaking to the core of who she was, her soul. This is your time for change, to begin the transformation I prophesied. All change brings pain, but suffering also produces clarity… purpose. You are the Snowbird, and you will save all the people. Never forget this. Never forget I have always loved you. I will always love you.

  "Mom!" Leela spun but saw no one, saw nothing but darkness.

  We may meet again, Daughter.

  "Mom, please, don't go. I need you."

  One day…

  The air erupted with an orgasmic explosion as billions of stars, planets, comets, and moons all appeared at once. Brightly colored nebulae clustered in the space above her, extending into eternity. A bright-white supernova was frozen in its cosmic eruption, its beauty dazzling
. A meteorite shower blazed past, trailing sparks like fireflies. Leela gasped for air, overcome by the cosmic display.

  "Snowbird," a deep voice thundered in her head.

  She cried out in pain, gripping her head as the voice bludgeoned her.

  The voice spoke again, softer now. "Snowbird, she said you would come." The voice spoke neither English nor Empire Common. It simply was.

  "Hello," she said, lowering her hands. "Who's there?"

  In an instant, they surrounded her, hundreds, each over ten feet tall, with overlong powerful arms and huge bear-clawed feet. Thick dark fur covered their muscular bodies, and their faces were simian, with large jaws filled with long canines, but the knowledge in their clever eyes spoke of an intellect far beyond that of apes. Or humans.

  She was in the presence of legends, the great elder brothers who had protected the Dane-Zaa people since the dawn of time—sasquatches but more akin to gods than beasts. Fear paralyzed her.

  "I…"

  And then there was only one, the others having vanished as abruptly as they had appeared. Although its visage was bestial, she felt kindness and compassion. Her terror melted like snow in a spring thaw. "Who… who are you?"

  "We are brothers, sisters. We were the past, and we are the now but can never again be what was. What do you seek, Snowbird?"

  "Why… why do you call me that?"

  "You are the Snowbird. Your mother spoke of you, but we are not convinced of her visions. There are many possibilities."

  "My mother, is she here? Can you bring her back?"

  "Your mother is like us, a memory. She asked us to watch over you, but we cannot protect anyone anymore. Our time has passed, passed with the gifting of the Brace you wear. Now, we have departed your world. Yet here we remain—if only as a shadow of what once we were."

  "How is this possible?"

  "I have no answers you are ready to understand, Snowbird."