Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  “We need a game plan,” Robert said, leaning closer so only Bert could hear him. “Just how tough are these scary motherfuckers? Do they have a weakness?”

  “None that I’ve seen,” Bert replied. “Unless you count ‘people skills’ as weakness.” Bert turned toward Jim and said, “Trade me places. It’s me they want. Get behind me and just focus on your shields.”

  Jim didn’t argue and slipped past him, allowing Bert his front row seat to the circus.

  “Just throw everything you have at them!” Bert said, unsure what other wisdom to offer. “Robert, if they kill me get everyone out of here. Don’t try to fight them, just run.”

  In reply, Robert appeared beside him. “Let’s kill them before they kill you, yeah?”

  Bert hurled a lightning bolt at the nearest clown, who waved it away like a bad joke. Robert hurled a ball of yellow energy at the clown. This time it laughed as it swatted the attack away.

  “Okay, I think we’re in trouble,” Robert said, glancing toward Bert. “Can we move forward with the plan where we all run away?”

  “Start backing our circle up!” Bert yelled. As the group started backing away from the clowns, he asked Robert, “Can you teleport us all out of here at once?”

  “I already tried,” Robert said. “Someone is blocking me from taking you. You’re bound to this meadow.”

  “Then get the others out,” Bert said. “Just take them and go.”

  He shook his head. “We’re staying.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Bert said, staring at the sea of smiling faces before him. “They’ll kill everyone.”

  Before Robert could reply, a cackling laugh reverberated throughout the night sky. It wasn’t the sickening chuckle of the clowns, but the maddening caw of an old crone. A witch’s laugh. It poured from the sky like rain, washing over the whole battlefield. Even the clowns looked upward, unsure where the sound came from.

  “What the hell was that?” Kevin asked, staring at Bert.

  “Uh…” Bert said, shrugging. “I have no idea. Not anyone I invited to the party.”

  An orange blur sped out of the sky and descended on the column of clowns. Like a falcon swooping down on an unsuspecting hare, the blur snatched a clown off the ground and shot back into the air. By the time his brain processed what he’d seen, the clown was falling back toward the earth, consumed in flames, and laughing like a maniac as he dropped to his death.

  “What the hell?!” Kevin repeated.

  The blur made another sweeping pass, hurling flames at the clowns and cackling a witch’s laugh.

  As it made another pass, Jim said, “I think that’s someone riding a broom…”

  “Seriously?” Bert asked, squinting to get a better look. “Like a witch? But that’s not real, right? Real witches don’t ride brooms, do they?”

  “Is it on our side?” Robert asked.

  “How the hell should I know?” Bert said. “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “It killed a clown,” Jim said. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Bert agreed, but despite this new player’s intervention, the clowns resumed their march. And now, they had a sense of urgency. Bert took a step toward them, trying to create some distance between him and his friends. If the clown struck him down, he just hoped Robert would follow through with getting the rest of his friends out of there.

  As the nearest clown closed in on him, a second mysterious figure dropped from the sky to land between them. His back was to Bert, but his appearance was impressive just the same. His outfit was a mix-match of modern black combat fatigues, chain mail, and dark plate armor. His boots were of the military variety, but covered to the knee with dark plates. One leg was covered in plate metal all the way to the hip, while the other bore a military style kneepad and Kevlar plating. His torso was completely covered in plate, but had a Kevlar vest over it. One of his arms was covered in plate metal and he wore a heavy gauntlet, opposite the plated leg. The other arm was bare, save an elbow pad and black gloves. In his hand was the longest, and meanest-looking, bastard sword Bert had ever seen.

  Strangest of all, the man’s head appeared to be on fire. After a moment, however, Bert realized it was his hair. His actual hair was aflame.

  Bert stared in awe, clueless as to who, or what, this being was. The figure turned his head toward him and Bert caught a glance of a familiar grin, then the man charged forward, raising his giant sword. Flames leapt up the length of the giant blade and he swung it downward, splitting the clown from shoulder to hip.

  As the two halves of the clown slid away from each other like hot butter, the rest of the clowns halted their march, eyeing this new threat suspiciously. Which was the perfect moment for the earlier blur to fly over once more, spraying flames over them and cackling with delight.

  The clowns spread out, breaking their formation to escape the fiery death.

  The flame-haired man glanced back toward Bert again and said, “Sup, dawg?!”

  “Falcon?!” Bert said, staring at his boss in disbelief.

  The cackling figure passed overhead again, but this time slowed enough to give him a wave. No doubt about it. It was Farrah. She wore black robes, and as Jim suggested, she was riding a broom. Like Falcon, her hair was aflame and so were the bristles of her broom.

  “What the fuck?” Bert said, his gaze moving between them. “I mean… What the fuck?!”

  “There’s no time to explain,” Falcon said, shrugging. “We’re sworn to protect you, dawg. So, here we are.”

  “What do you mean?” Bert asked. “Who asked you to protect me?”

  Falcon didn’t answer. Instead he jumped forward, swinging his giant flaming sword at a clown, who attempted to block the strike with a baseball bat covered in nails. Falcon split the bat in half then relieved the clown of his smiling face.

  The clown with sickle charged in from the side, still swinging it over his head and looking for a target. He followed the clown’s gaze to Lilith, and charged as the clown prepared to strike. Bert tackled her around the waist and drove her to the ground as the sickle hissed overhead, zipping through the air where her head had just been.

  Bert landed awkwardly atop Lilith, and glanced up to see the clown frown at him as he prepared to strike again. He had a sneaking suspicion the clown wasn’t toying around anymore. This next strike would be for keeps.

  From behind him, someone let out guttural scream and cried, “No!”

  Bert whipped his head back toward his friends. It was Jim. Jim who was normally so calm and in control. Jim who rarely got angry or emotional. Now, his eyes blazed with a kind of manic fury. A look of crazed hunger, not unlike that of the clowns, stretched across his features.

  Jim charged toward the clown, screaming over and over. “No! No! No! No! No!”

  As he closed in on the smiling figure, Jim raise his shotgun and fired. The pellets bounced harmlessly against the clown’s blue costume and he threw back his head and roared with delight. Still laughing at Jim, the clown reached up and honked his own nose. Then he raised his sickle.

  Jim snarled and continued forward. “I said no!”

  The clown raised an eyebrow, perhaps taken a bit back by Jim’s fury. He raised his sickle and swung it toward Jim, but it bounced away harmlessly. The clown’s eyes widened and he tried again. And again, Jim’s shield held against the clown’s magic.

  A genuine look of surprise crossed the clown’s features and then Jim was on him. He hit the smiling prick at full speed, tackling him to the ground. His staff and shotgun forgotten, Jim crawled atop the clown and punched him in the nose, repeating the honk, which only seemed to infuriate Jim further. He punched him again. And again. A left, then a right, over and over, his arms fired downward like pistons, his fists smashing the clown’s head into the ground. Still, he continued screaming, “No! No! No!”

  If not for his protective gloves, Jim’s knuckles would’ve been broken and bloody, but as it was, he continued firing punch after punch, painting th
e white face red. The clown’s body slackened, but still Jim continued his onslaught, hell bent on pulverizing any recognizable clown feature.

  Tangled up in his own skirmish, Neil yelled, “Can someone get Captain Crazy Pants, please?!”

  Simon stepped over and took hold of Jim, trying to pull him from the clown. “Come on, buddy.”

  Jim struggled against him, still throwing punches at the clown’s disfigured face. Simon pulled harder, yanking Jim to his feet, but still his arms flailed out wildly, striking at the air. Finally, he looked back at Simon and said, “They can’t be real. Clowns can’t be a species. They can’t be living things.”

  Hunter stepped over to the clown and put a single bullet into its mangled head. The unexpected gunshot made Jim jump. Hunter grinned at him. “This one ain’t.”

  “You beat that clown’s ass,” Simon said, giving Jim’s shoulders an appreciative squeeze. “I didn’t know you could punch like that.”

  Jim smiled and straightened himself. His face returned to normal, the manic look gone. He took a slow breath and said, “Okay, I’m good now. Sorry guys.”

  As he moved to retrieve his staff and gun, Simon said, “You might want to see a therapist, buddy.”

  “That looked pretty damned therapeutic to me,” Hunter said, shrugging.

  Bert finally rolled off Lilith, and with a cry of pain, he pulled the thorns from his arm. He held them out to her. “I believe this is yours.”

  As she took them from him he continued, “You know, a friend of mine has a saying… A fist of thorns will never set you free.”

  She stared at him with questioning eyes, but before she could respond, Kevin yelled, “Hey, that’s from a song we wrote!”

  Bert laughed and put on a fake scowl. “Thanks dude, now it doesn’t seem as wise and intellectual.”

  “Intellectual?” Kevin said, snorting. “We wrote that in your living room. And we were drunk.”

  “Still a great song.” Bert chuckled and reached out a hand to Lilith, helping her up.

  “I thought you hated me,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

  He shook his head and forced a smile. “Let’s figure all of that out when we get out of this mess, yeah?”

  She nodded, and they threw themselves back into the fray.

  Chapter 47

  Glancing around the battlefield, Bert’s unease grew. They’d suffered no losses thus far, but they’d been lucky, and now their circle was broken and they were fighting in small groups. They were still close enough to help one another, but it weakened their ability to defend one another. He needed to get everyone back together.

  There was still scattered fighting all around them, but a short distance away, Nero had gathered up his troops, and like the clowns, he now marched the whole lot of them toward Bert. On the other side of the field, Howard was attempting to get his were-puppies organized as well. Further out, the Brotherhood and the vampires were doing the same. If his opponents all regrouped, his little team would be overwhelmed.

  He also noted that Dasfarus had disappeared again and Ozark was smashing a path in his direction. That would help, assuming the big guy didn’t smash his friends. He just hoped the rock troll would stay true to his word.

  “Waylon!” the troll said, calling out as he approached. “I see you have brought more friends! It is unfair to our enemies, don’t you think? They are such squishy little things!”

  Before Bert could respond, Ozark scooped up a wizard who was attacking Neil and crushed him between his fingers. Then he tossed the broken corpse over his shoulder and flicked the crimson blood from his hand. Neil stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. Ozark pointed at his face and chuckled.

  Okay, so he didn’t have to worry about Ozark killing his friends, but there was another problem. Where the hell was Dasfarus? Sneaky little prick.

  Bert didn’t have time to ponder it, as Nero’s wizards approached.

  “Simon!” Nero’s voiced boomed across the battlefield. “You dare betray me? Return to us at once and I’ll forgive your transgression, but be warned, this will be your only chance, my boy. Don’t be a fool.”

  Simon whirled toward his former employer and Bert held his breath. Simon had been utterly terrified by Nero. Would he crash under the pressure now? Or had he spoken the truth? Did his loyalty really lie with Bert and the others?

  Simon’s eyes blazed with fury, but his grin spread. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, or maybe it was an effect of being with his real friends, but Simon didn’t look the least bit afraid. Nor did he seem the least bit interested. He locked eyes with Nero and said, “Nah, I’m good. I appreciate the offer, though.”

  Nero’s gaze hardened. “You would abandon your family?”

  “I already did once,” Simon said, still holding his gaze. “It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

  Nero’s eyes began to glow white as he drew in energy. “Are you sure, my child?”

  “I’m not your child,” Simon said, shaking his head. “And if you really gave a shit about me, you wouldn’t have tried to turn me against my old friends. And when you refer to someone as ‘my child’ you sound like a creepy dude in a van. I’m sure the others would appreciate it if you dialed that back a bit.”

  Nero’s face twisted with rage. “You’ll die for those words, boy.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Simon said, grinning. “But you’ll still be the creepy dude in a van.”

  In response, Nero hurled a van-sized ball of power at Simon, but Jim stepped in front of him, summoning the full strength of his shield to block the attack. It left the others uncovered for a moment, but without it, he and Simon would’ve been hurled across the battlefield. Instead, Jim’s shield soaked up most of the power, and they were merely knocked from their feet.

  Wasting no time, Nero fired a second ball of energy. There was no way Jim could get his shield back up to snuff in time, but fortunately, he didn’t have to. Ozark jumped into the path of the oncoming spell and took the impact to his chest. It had no effect.

  Ozark laughed and glanced at Bert. “I like your friends, Moonshine Wizard! They fight like the warriors of old, but they talk in ways I don’t understand, yet I comprehend to be funny!”

  Without waiting for a reply, Ozark took a single bound and landed in the middle of Nero’s group, crushing hipsters under his massive feet. They hurled magic at him, but Ozark didn’t pay their spells any attention. He only had eyes for Nero. Since Dasfarus was playing Hide and Seek, Ozark decided Nero was the next obvious foe worthy of his attention. Nero backpedaled, firing energy blasts at the rock troll as he’d seen Dasfarus do.

  “Moonshine Wizard?” Lilith asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bert said, putting up his hands defensively. “It was something I just threw out there.”

  “I like it,” Kevin said. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

  With Nero’s focus on Ozark, Chance took the opportunity to act as leader. He ordered the hipsters forward and with his gaze on Simon, he yelled across the battlefield. “I’ll kill you myself, traitor!”

  “Hey, it’s Chance!” Bert said, waving at him. “How’s your hand?! Are you still a douche bag?!”

  Chance turned his gaze toward Bert. “Kill Waylon first! We need to recover the key!”

  “Ha! See that, Simon? They want to kill me worse than they want to kill you!”

  “It’s not a competition, Bert,” Simon said with a laugh. “Besides, they just think you have whatever they’re after. I’m pretty sure they still hate me the most.”

  Glancing past Chance, Bert yelled, “Is that Jacqueline?!” He paused to wave at her as well. “You look gorgeous this evening! Any more thoughts on that date?!”

  Beside him, Lilith’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed into something else. If someone had taken a shot at him in that moment, it might have gotten through his shield. He hadn’t thought his jest would elicit a jealous reaction out of her. It was a morale victory. He’d take it.

  Jacqueline spoke u
p, ensuring Bert could hear her. “Chance, you get Simon. I’ll take care of the ugly one.”

  Bert dodged an attack from an incoming vampire, then decapitated it with Sharp. He turned back toward Jacqueline. “Ugly?! See, now I know you want me!” He turned to Kevin, and in a lower voice said, “I may need some back up here. She has a whip and she knows how to use it. And I don’t mean that in the fun, kinky kind of way.”

  Kevin released the last of his arrows into the side of a were-dog and said, “Gotcha.”

  The hipster wizards split into two packs, one en-route to Bert, the other to Simon. Jacqueline led the team with eyes for Bert, flailing her whip around and moving through the fighting crowd with a sort of feline grace. He recognized Mohawk following just behind her.

  He smiled at them, waved again, and waited. He’d roughed them up a bit the last time they met, but they’d been pulling their punches. This time they weren’t interested in threatening him. This time they were out for blood.

  As soon as she was close enough, Jacqueline struck out with her whip, cracking it against Bert’s shield. His defenses held and he responded with a lightning bolt that she, in turn, blocked. Mohawk stepped up beside her and prepared to cast, but Neil hit him with a gust of wind and knocked him off his feet. The rest of her team moved into position to attack, and Bert tried not to think about how outnumbered they were. Please don’t let me be killed by hipsters, he thought, fearing the impact to his reputation.

  A short distance away, Chance, along with Jumpsuit and the rest of his team, advanced on Simon and Jim. Jim’s shield held back everything they threw at them, which in turn allowed Simon to hurl fireballs. At a distance, it looked like a stalemate, but eventually the numbers would wear through Jim’s shield.

  Simon hurled another fireball and asked, “How many lives are you prepared to throw away on this stupid-ass venture, Chance?”

  “To kill a traitor?” Chance asked. “As many as it takes!”

  “Sure, I’m a traitor,” Simon said, shaking his head. “But if you’re so concerned about our little family, then why are you leading them to their deaths? How many of our supposed brothers and sisters lay dead in this meadow, Chance? And for what? Some dark wizard’s trinket? You must see this is madness.”