by G R Jordan
Wilson held on in agony. His arm was screaming at him and the feeling in his hands was beyond pain, but he kept gripping. She was going to go, about to tumble to her doom. This was it. All or nothing. He steeled himself for the white hot complaints his body would register and he rolled away from the edge, pulling Jane’s arm with all his might, desperately trying to drag her over the cliff top. A weight landed on his upturned body, bringing more pain. But this time he welcomed it. And he lay there, forcing a smile through the agony that was caused by Jane Goodritch lying on top of him.
Austerley spun round in the dark, searching for the source of the sound. Now that he had a smaller foot, he was unsteady and hesitant with his steps. The last time Farthington and Austerley had come face to face, the dragon had ripped his foot off; now that he was a biped again, Austerley was keen to remain that way. Kneeling down, he touched the tarmac with his hands and chanted a series of low droning noises.
“There you are, Austerley. Crouching down. Are you begging for mercy? You’ll find none. I would have had all the money in the world, Austerley. Dagon’s right-hand dragon. But no, you couldn’t do the one thing I required of you. So now you’ll suffer. I’ll pin you down and rip off your other foot. Then your fingers, then your arms. And when there are no limbs left I’ll snap your neck and toss your worthless torso to the crows. I see you shaking, Austerley. I smell your fear.”
Austerley’s body was trembling but he kept his focus on the tarmac. The language he uttered was old, from a village deep in a rainforest. He had seen their practices and he knew their ways could shock even those who had dealt with the bloody horror of a night in the wildest of cities. This was power and he was its master. The tarmac cracked.
Kirkgordon felt the ground move. The surface of the care home’s car park pulled out from under him like a rug. Kirkgordon lost his footing and tumbled in the dark. He heard Nefol yelp. He rolled until he hit something hard. Reaching out with his hand, he felt the bark of a tree. Disorientated, he listened to try to figure out what was happening.
A roar reverberated, a cry of frustration. Farthington’s large feet were thumping on the ground and possibly kicking at something. Kirkgordon heard a crack and something hit the tree just above his head. Reaching up, he felt a piece of tarmac. Bemused, he rolled to one side, thinking he may have inadvertently ended up in a line of attack.
Kirkgordon’s eyes blinked shut as natural daylight flooded the scene. Jane and Wilson had succeeded! Straining to take in the scene before him, he saw only a huge black blob. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a giant man-shaped piece of tarmac throwing a right hook at Farthington. Behind the tarmac man was Austerley, kneeling on the ground, deep in concentration. Seeing that Farthington was completely occupied with the tarmac man, Kirkgordon took the chance to look for his goal, Havers. The government agent was still swinging on the end of a rope and Kirkgordon took an ordinary arrow from his quiver.
For a moment, as he looked along the arrow, everything drifted away. Kirkgordon let his breathing slow down. He relaxed and let the fingers of the hand gripping his bow ease off. His eye saw the target perfectly; he simply released the drawstring and watched his arrow fly. With years of practice behind him, he turned away, knowing it would hit his target. A smug smile came across his face as he heard Havers thump to the ground.
“Nefol,” Kirkgordon said to the girl, “get over to Havers and protect him.” The girl raced off but to Kirkgordon’s horror she ran directly at Farthington. “No, don’t engage him. Nefol, no!”
Kirkgordon immediately saw the change in Nefol, who was normally so cool and calm. She fought with rage, and her normal technique of avoiding contact, stepping past her enemy’s blows and counter-attacking was lost in her fury. She approached the dragon head-on like an irate wrestler. Farthington had spotted her coming. She piled straight into his upturned foot and collapsed to the ground. The dragon lifted his foot to crush her but was jumped on by the tarmac man, who began to pummel him.
“Crush him, Mr Austerley! Eliminate the filth!” Kirkgordon knew the voice but the wrath contained within it was unusual for the normally cool Havers. Racing over to Nefol, Kirkgordon could see she was breathing but badly hurt.
The dragon cried out as the tarmac man beat it to a pulp. “I have Alana!” The name froze Kirkgordon’s heart.
“Austerley, stop!” ordered Kirkgordon.
“He took my foot. He took my bloody foot, the bastard, I’ll kill him!” yelled Austerley. His arms were making the same pounding motion as the tarmac man.
“I have your Alana. She’s dead if I don’t return!” roared Farthington.
“Dispatch him, Austerley,” encouraged Havers. “End your pain.”
He could be bluffing, thought Kirkgordon, but if not, dear God… I can’t lose her. The kids need her. They can’t lose her. Alana, no!
Austerley felt the tip of the arrow on his head and heard the voice saying, “Stop it now. Stop that creature of yours, now!” Kirkgordon’s voice was calm but urgent.
“That bastard dragon’s gonna pay, Churchy!”
A trickle of blood ran down the side of Austerley’s head as the arrow tip was forced slightly deeper. “Now, or I will kill you.”
Looking deep into Kirkgordon’s eyes, Austerley saw a man of sheer intent. His rage died in the face of self-preservation.
“Mr Kirkgordon, I order you to stop this and let Mr Austerley do his work to eliminate our threat. Step aside, Mr Kirkgordon.”
“That’s my family! Havers, interfere now and I will hunt you down. Let the dragon speak!” raged Kirkgordon.
“I will not. You cannot trust this beast. It’s a trick and I will finish him now.” Havers, walking slowly after his torture, limped towards Farthington. Caught between holding Austerley at bay and stopping Havers, Kirkgordon was outnumbered and at a loss. A smile broke across Havers’ lips and he prepared to dispatch the dragon. A whirring sound went unnoticed by all those on the ground except for Nefol.
“If I die, she dies. Kirkgordon, they need to hear from me.” Farthington’s voice was becoming agitated and the dragon’s face showed panic at Havers’ approach.
Kirkgordon bowed his head, feeling at a loss. Any arrow would be pointless. He’d have to hit Havers, which, given the distance and the target, was unlikely to succeed. It would also free up Austerley to reinitiate the fight. Hollowness and shame at his weakness filled him. Alana’s face filled his mind and he began to break down inside.
Kirkgordon’s breakdown was interrupted by the whoosh of large black wings and then a cry of “This is all a bit serious, boys!”
Calandra, her skin cold and white, dressed in black boots, jeans and leather jacket, dropped down beside Farthington. Kirkgordon gawped at her.
“Glad you could join us, my dear,” said Havers. “We have been busy and now it’s time to settle our scores. This is for Ohlos!” said Havers as he advanced once again towards the dragon.
“Farthington’s got Alana, Cally! Stop Havers!” shouted Kirkgordon.
Calandra’s staff upended Havers and pinned him to the ground.
“I think you forget, my dear, you are on my payroll,” Havers pointed out.
“Time to speak, Farthington,” ordered Kirkgordon, “or I’ll let Havers back up.”
The dragon let go a sigh of relief, expelling air, and began to shake. Having seen Farthington change from human to dragon, Kirkgordon always thought he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw the opposite change. He was wrong. It was like watching a bizarre nature film in reverse as the beast was packed into a shell too small to contain it.
Lying beneath Austerley’s tarmac creature, Farthington’s human form produced a mobile phone from his garments, which had appeared on him out of nowhere as he shrunk. With the words “Put her on”, Farthington switched on loudspeaker mode and held the phone up.
For Kirkgordon, at this distance, the voice was faint but unmistakeable. It was Alana.
“C, do what they say. They have me. I don’t know whe
re I am but it’s weird. Things I have never seen before. Help me, help me!”
Farthington switched off the mobile. “Time I was going,” he said.
“Austerley, let him go.”
There was a moment’s hesitation then Austerley felt the arrow point press in on his head. Releasing his hands from the ground, he muttered a few words and the tarmac creature broke apart over Farthington, who stood up and shook himself down. Taking a piece of chalk from his pocket, he drew a complex symbol on the ground and stood on it.
“So nice to see you all again. Don’t follow me!” And he vanished into the ground. Havers, lying on his back, knocked Calandra’s staff aside and made as quick a pace as he could to the symbol.
“Follow him! We need to follow him.”
Just as he reached the spot on the ground, a nightgaunt, a jet black creature with wings, legs, torso and head but no eyes or mouth, sprang out of the hole. It rubbed the symbol away before flying off into the sky.
“You,” said Havers, pointing at Kirkgordon. “You let him go. You’ll accompany me back to HQ and we’ll sort out how you follow orders.”
Kirkgordon completely ignored Havers and called Calandra to him.
“Did you hear me, Kirkgordon?” asked Havers.
“Excuse me, but there is a fatherless child that needs us. As for you and your games, don’t even speak to me. Just don’t speak.”
Back in the USSR
“Do you remember the last time? We damn well near got roasted.” Calandra had her hand on Kirkgordon’s shoulder and could feel the tension. Gently she rubbed the muscles that ran to the base of his neck. To many others this would have seemed like the touch of a would-be lover but she tried to see the relationship more like sister and brother. Calandra saw how he looked at her at times, with a hunger that she felt too, but his choice of partner was always Alana. And now Alana was a hostage and Calandra would help him win her back.
“Too well, Cally, too well. Always hauling Austerley’s fat arse around.” Kirkgordon spat on the ground and surveyed the Russian countryside. He remembered the place far too well. It was here that Farthington had first revealed himself as Zmey Gorynych, the dragon. Here, where a car door had been the only thing between Austerley and himself and a rapid cremation. And here where Calandra, after fighting off many nightgaunts, had provided an exit by drawing that peculiar symbol on the ground.
“How did you know the exit was still open?” Calandra continued to rub his shoulders, the knots evident.
Thinking back, Kirkgordon could still visualize the nightgaunts emerging from the portal and racing to attack Calandra and himself. “Havers. He spoke to the FSB, who had kept an eye on it. Many things have come out of it since and they reckon it’s an active doorway. Well, we’ll find out.” Kirkgordon stared at the exit. He had seen his children only briefly before leaving them in the care of Alana’s mother. Someone has Mum. That was all he had told them. How could you explain all this nonsense anyway? Some things should be kept quiet, under the cover of government.
Havers had been awkward. The callous swine would have let Alana die to keep the whole thing quiet. But Kirkgordon had called “Ma’am”, SETAA’s real head. Her Majesty had understood that it may have been possible to silence Kirkgordon, but not before he could deliver enough evidence to the press to blow SETAA wide open. Kirkgordon was sure he detected some strain in her voice as “Ma’am” explained to Havers that Kirkgordon would be the operational head of a rescue mission. But her backing was important. Havers, although a ruthless bastard, was better as a colleague than as an enemy.
“How’s Nefol?” asked Kirkgordon.
“She’s good to go,” replied Calandra. “Poor girl took it hard, really hard. But she’s focused, not vengeful. I’ll keep her close to me, Churchy. She won’t let you down.” Calandra smiled at him. Her cold white flesh was hidden by her black jeans and leather jacket. He’s so distant, she thought. Alana has seeped into his skin.
“Keep her close. Father Jonah saved my life. I owe it to him.” Kirkgordon turned his eyes to the last member of his rescue squad. This one had taken a hell of a lot of persuading. “And how’s my partner? Still a stupid arse?” Austerley swore at him.
Calandra gently kissed the back of Kirkgordon’s neck. “Take it easy, you know you need him.” She heard him let out a breath, trying to release his anger at the man before him. “Austerley’s been suffering too. The foot he stole from Tania has gone completely black. Plus it’s smaller and unbalances him when he walks. I think, from what I know about the process he undertook, that some of Tania’s darkness transferred across in the foot. Austerley took her foot before Father Jonah had a chance to cleanse her.”
“So he’s now not only a nut job but also possessed in some way?”
“That’s a fair assumption.”
“Are you sure I need him?”
“Yes!” Calandra turned Kirkgordon to face her and looked deep into his eyes. “Churchy, we’ll get Alana back. If I have to rip hell apart, we’ll get her back. But Austerley knows these places. I have spent time in the other worlds but he is a map, an encyclopaedia of the bad lands. With his contacts, we have a chance to find her.”
Kirkgordon turned away but Calandra pulled him back. “Listen, Havers scoured the globe. I’ve seen him find anyone. He’s the best, and he found nothing. Farthington must have her in the other places. So now we go to them and find her. But you need Austerley. He is our compass. But you’re our captain. As for the rest of us, we’re just firepower.”
“I know,” he said, looking straight at her, “and thank you. I know you would like me to think of you the same way I think of her. And if I wasn’t with her I would be with you. So thank you.”
A tear slipped out from Calandra’s eye. It turned into a solid elongated piece of ice on her cheek.
“Black suits you, Cally. For someone so cold you look damn hot!” He kissed her forehead before turning to the small fleet of cars behind him.
“Mr Kirkgordon, are you ready?” Just for a moment, Kirkgordon thought that it was Havers. Instead, Wilson stood dressed in an impeccable suit, complete with open overcoat and bowler hat. “It does get damn chilly here in the Russian motherland.”
“Wilson! How’s the body? You took some pasting back on the English coast.”
There was just a momentary wince from the corner of his mouth before Wilson replied. “Tip top, sir, just tip top. Job to do, Queen and country, you know how it is. Besides, now that you are taking Major Havers with you, someone’s got to run the department while he’s gone. And do try not to piss him off in there. He’s been like the proverbial bear with a sore head back at HQ.”
“Well, I get that. He was very close to Father Jonah. I’d like nothing better than to take this dragon apart as well. Look, Wilson, thanks for organizing everything. I appreciate it. Havers has been a little cold since I spoke with your boss. Not used to little upstarts like myself.”
“I am sure I don’t need to remind you,” said Wilson, reminding Kirkgordon, “that she’s your boss too. All in the service of, my dear fellow, all in the service of.”
“Speaking of which, how is Miss Goodritch?”
There was not a flicker, not one hint of emotion. “I believe Miss Goodritch is recovering well after her exertions. Got a lot to thank her for, both of us. I believe she’s going to see Ma’am as well. Bit of the old keeping-it-under-the-nose conversation. I do believe Jane is quite excited.” And there it was. Just the merest curling up of the corners of the lips, a momentary demonstration of warmth.
“How did you sort out Dillingham? I take it ‘Ma’am’ didn’t pay everyone a visit,” asked Kirkgordon.
“We have our ways, Mr Kirkgordon. Very convincing. You’d be surprised what you can achieve when everyone attends a town hall meeting.”
“What, do you just like mind zap them all?”
“Really, Mr Kirkgordon, how very Hollywood. You sound like a regular film buff. No, we do not ‘zap’ them, but we have some
very talented personnel who can reach out to the masses. A way with words, shall we say?”
Kirkgordon saw a number of black-suited men beyond Wilson’s shoulder. From his years of protection work, Kirkgordon recognized the hardware beneath the jackets. “I take it they are not your people.”
“Oh, no. Common park thugs, by the look of it. Our dear friends in the FSB, while being most helpful of course, do like to show a little muscle on home turf. I suppose it’s their way of letting us know who is running the show. Well, as long as they think that, I guess it is all fine and dandy.”
Kirkgordon stepped away to check over his equipment one more time. Father Jonah’s cellar had been a mine of weaponry, and Kirkgordon now had a small backpack of items which he believed would prove extremely useful. Havers had tried to confiscate all the items but Kirkgordon had gone over his head to “Ma’am” again, building the icy wall between the two men even higher.
Satisfied that his pack was prepared, Kirkgordon slung it onto his back and approached Havers, who was talking to a bald man in military uniform with an array of medals hanging from his chest. Rather than engage whatever general Havers was talking to, Kirkgordon gave a small flick of his head indicating it was time to go.
The snow compacted beneath his boots. Kirkgordon relished the crunching sound, wondering if there would be any snow in the days ahead. He would be stepping into the dragon’s den, so to speak, and he was uneasy at leaving this world, where he felt he had a slight advantage. Who was to know what was lurking through the portal?
Austerley! Austerley would know. Through all the troubles of his recent past there had been one constant: Austerley. He needed the oaf to find Alana, needed to forge a working relationship again. For the sake of his wife and his children’s mother, he would once again have to partner and protect this madman. Walking over to Austerley, who sat on the snow looking at his new foot, Kirkgordon decided to reach out.
