Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  “Nero leads us, Simon,” Chance spat, and hammered another blast of energy against Jim’s shield. “He protects us. He guides us. We won’t turn our backs on him like you did. If not for your betrayal, we’d have already secured the object and been gone. Those of us who’ve died are on your head.”

  “You really think Nero gives a shit about you?” Simon asked, snorting a laugh. “He made it clear he doesn’t care about any of us. This is all about power for him. You’re just his tools.”

  “I pegged you as a coward from the beginning,” Chance said, forcing his own angry laugh. “We should’ve just killed you then, but instead, Nero gave you a chance. In return, you spat in his face and got our brothers killed.”

  “Yeah?” Simon asked, hurling another fireball at Chance. “Just for the record, I never liked you either, you pretentious little douche nozzle!”

  On Bert’s side, Jacqueline moved in closer, still trying to break his defenses. Just as she flicked her whip out to attack, Kevin made his move. He charged in, his hands glowing with swirling pink energy as he amplified his own strength. At the last second, Jacqueline saw him and focused her shield to defend herself, but Kevin struck out anyway, his fist cracking against her magical shield like a small explosion. Jacqueline was knocked from her feet.

  Bert tried to warn Kevin, but he was too slow and Steroid tackled Kevin around the waist and knocked him to the ground. They both rolled up to their feet, glaring at one another. Steroid was the bigger of the two, and his expression was cocky and sure. But Kevin had murder in his eyes. He was ready to Stormtrooper stomp someone’s ass into the ground. Bert put his money on Kevin.

  Steroid attacked first, swinging a glowing fist at Kevin’s jaw. Kevin held up his forearm to block, swatted the punch away, and threw one of his own. Steroid blocked and replied. Each time one of their fists met the other’s shield, there was a sizzling pop. They traded blow after blow, each looking for a weakness in the other’s defense.

  Bert blocked an orange blast of energy, and fired another lightning bolt. He didn’t know how many more he could manage, but it was life or death, so he just kept summoning them. His bigger concern for the moment was that Jacqueline was back on her feet and swinging the whip at him again. Fearing the strain on his shields, he gave Sharp control of his arm again, and let the sword parry each of her attacks. Each time she tried to hit him with the whip, his sword lashed out and swatted the end of the whip to the side. It did the trick, but his shield was still weakening from the constant barrage of attacks from other mages. He needed help fast.

  Beside him, Lilith and Neil were also under a barrage of attack magic. Kevin was wrapped up with Steroid. Simon and Jim were still holding back Chance and his merry band of ass-hats, but they were in much the same boat. Eventually, they’d be worn down and their enemy would break through. A short distance away, Hunter stood beside Robert, who stood beside Falcon and his giant sword. They were still engaged with the mix-matched crowd, and there was no feasible way to get their help. It wasn’t looking good.

  As if she could read his mind, Farrah swooped in on her broom and fired a steady stream of flames over the hipsters. They looked up, manipulating their magical shields to stave off the flames.

  Neil saw the opening and sent another gust of wind at the hipsters, catching several of them at waist height and knocking them over one another like dominoes. Their concentration broken, a few lost focus on their shields, and the wrath of Farrah’s flames washed over them.

  Her work done, Farrah cut back toward Falcon and the others and provided them cover fire as well. They took the opportunity to move closer to Bert’s group.

  Mohawk pressed the attack on Neil, hurling green orbs of power at him and forcing him to defend. Bert threw a raw energy spell at Mohawk and knocked from his feet. However, his victory was short lived as he felt the whip circle around his throat. It pulled tight, cutting off his airflow like a snake constricting its prey.

  Jacqueline yanked on the whip, pulling Bert from his feet. He felt a surge of pain as his hip hit the hard ground and he tried to rise. She pulled again and yanked his body toward her. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to break his neck, but knew it wouldn’t take much, and if he didn’t get air soon he’d lose consciousness. She had him.

  Bert head a female scream, then saw a blast of purple energy fly overhead. It hit Jacqueline in the chest and knocked her from her feet. Lilith ran past him, firing another purple spell as Jacqueline tried to rise. She was knocked from her feet again and sent tumbling through the meadow. When she finally stopped she didn’t move.

  The other hipsters glanced at Jacqueline, then back at the fury of Lilith as she stood over Bert, her eyes blazing with violet rage. They decided it was time for a healthy retreat.

  Bert surged to his feet, drawing in a sweet breath and assessing the battle around him. Like stags in heat locking antlers, Kevin and Steroid were engaged, but Kevin was on the defensive.

  Bert summoned his sword and staff back into his hands and sent a tiny blast of raw energy at Steroid’s back. The big guy shrugged it off and turned to give Bert a pretentious look. The kind of look that said, ‘You really think that weak ass attack is going to hurt a big alpha man-buck like me?’ Bert grinned and Kevin took the distraction to punch Steroid right in his stupid face. It wasn’t a regular punch, but a jumping, full wind back, power-amplified sucker punch that might’ve taken a normal human’s head off. Lucky for Steroid, his residual shielding soaked up most of the impact. Just not enough to keep him from getting knocked off his feet like the big man-buck he was. Steroid hit the ground and didn’t move.

  Bert sprinted toward Simon and Jim, hurling lightning at their attackers. His goal was to draw some of the heat off them. It worked. Chance pointed at him and the hipsters switched targets, casting everything they had at Bert instead. It worked a little too well.

  Farrah swooped in again and rained fire on the hipsters. Just like their friends before, they focused their shields above their heads, and Kevin charged in like an angry bull, knocking them aside like bowling pins. Bert, Lilith, Neil, and Simon hurled magic at them while they tried to recover. Chance had no choice but to call a retreat. They weren’t out of the fight for good, but it’d take them a few minutes to regroup, especially while Ozark kept Nero busy.

  Back together again, Bert and company moved toward Hunter, Robert, and Falcon.

  When they closed in, Hunter said, “We’ve got to do something about the Bombers!”

  “Bombers?” Bert asked, confused. “What bombers?”

  “Sorry,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “The Brotherhood of the Magic Bane. We started calling them Bombers for short.”

  “Oh,” Bert said. “That makes sense. I kind of like it.”

  Hunter smiled and pointed. Bert looked up and saw what he was referring to. The Brotherhood had reformed now as well, and they were slowly tearing their way across the battlefield, and he appeared to be their target. The beret-wearing leader was in the middle, barking orders among the safety of his men. Two of the large Executioners were on either side of him. Another was at the front of the pack.

  Falcon stepped forward to greet them, waving his giant sword menacingly.

  Robert called out to him, “Wait! They’re the Brotherhood!”

  Falcon snorted, but took a step back.

  Hunter, down to his pistol now, took aim on the Executioner and fired. The bullet bounced off the metal suit and the hulking knight continued toward them.

  They stared at one another, unsure how to deal with this new threat.

  The Executioner laughed. It was a grating hollow sound as it spewed from his helmet. “Your powers are useless against us, demons. As are your guns. You cannot oppose the Brotherhood. Come forth and die!”

  A metal object flew by overhead, twirling like a helicopter blade. It sailed toward the Executioner as little more than a blur, and when it hit him, there was a sharp groan of tearing metal, and the helmeted head rolled off to one side and
fell to the ground. The whole Brotherhood column paused, their eyes on the headless Executioner as he slowly tumbled over to the ground with a clank.

  Bert, and all his friends, turned to look at Kevin.

  He shrugged and said, “Yippity yapping son of a bitch.” He paused to punch an incoming were-dog, sending the creature rolling across the meadow with a yelp. He glanced back at his friends and continued, “Some of us are trying to concentrate, you know?”

  Bert chuckled and turned toward Hunter. “Let’s take out their leader. He’s the jackass in the beret.”

  “You think that will make them give up?” Hunter asked, doubtful.

  “No,” Bert admitted. “But it might make them break rank and cause confusion.”

  “Good enough for me, but how the hell are we going to get him? He’s hiding in the middle of his men. He’s got to be close to a hundred yards out. If I still had rifle rounds it’d be easy, but I’m down to this.” He held up his 1911, and Bert understood it’d be a tough shot with the drop of a .45 caliber round.

  Bert nodded and said, “You still have ammo in your .357?”

  Hunter grinned and pulled it from his boot. “You thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

  “Absolutely,” Bert replied, grinning. “Let’s have us a shoot for old times’ sake.” He turned to Jim and said, “We’re going to need a good shield. Falcon, can you get Farrah down here for a moment?”

  “Sure,” he replied.

  A moment later the broom appeared right in front of him, and even after standing near Falcon, the sight of her burning hair took him back for a moment. She gave him a bright smile and said, “Hey, hun! What’d you need?”

  “I need you to fly over that pile of Brotherhood members and hurl flames at them.”

  She raised a speculative eyebrow and said, “But I can’t hurt them.”

  “I know. I just need you to get their attention for a moment.”

  She shrugged and took flight. Bert and Hunter got into position, each drawing their respective .357 magnums. Hunter was at the disadvantage since he had the shorter barrel, but since he was the better shot, it all balanced out as far as Bert was concerned. At a closer range, Hunter’s 1911 was deadly accurate, but at the distance they were shooting, they needed the extra velocity the magnum provided.

  Farrah flew over the center of the Brotherhood hurling flames. The flames dissolved as they got near the magic-immune soldiers, but it still made a lot of them jump. Bert guessed they were still facing mostly new recruits. He hated to think what their normal guys were like. When the soldiers panicked under Farrah’s harmless flames, a momentary break in the circle opened. They fired. The beret shot into the sky and the leader went down, struck in the head by at least one of their rounds.

  “I’m pretty sure that was me,” Hunter said, grinning.

  “No way,” Bert replied. “Your round went high and to the right.”

  “You’re full of crap,” Hunter replied.

  “Can we agree that we both hit him?”

  “No,” Hunter replied, ejecting the spent cartridge and refilling it with a live round. “Because I definitely didn’t miss. You might’ve, though. Who’s to say? And side note, they’re still coming.”

  Bert glanced up and sighed. The Brotherhood was still marching toward them. Each of the factions who’d come in great numbers had taken considerable losses, but none seemed intent to leave. The clowns had disappeared, along with Dasfarus, but he had a sneaking suspicion they were still out there, just waiting for a good opportunity to strike. There was no counting how many hipsters Nero had loss, nor how many vampires, weres, or Bombers had died, but still they pressed the attack, each desperate to recover the key.

  He couldn’t fathom it. How could the reward be worth taking such sacrifice? He shrugged. He couldn’t worry about it now. At this point, it was all about survival.

  The vampires had managed to organize a large group near the tree line, and they looked ready to move back into the fray as well. On the other side of the field, also near the tree line, the were-dicks had regrouped as well. In small doses, Bert and his friends could hold them back. But if the whole pack charged as one, they’d be overrun for sure. If both groups charged in at once, while the Brotherhood was making their organized assault, there was no way they could hold them all.

  Then the vampires started moving away from the tree line, and as he watched, Bert realized it wasn’t organized. They were fleeing. Panicked and running for their lives. He squinted, noticing bright flashes of light from within the forest.

  Then the wizards emerged from the tree line, their spells painting the night sky in a rainbow of color. When he recognized Arthur’s titan frame, he leapt for joy and fought down the urge to scream, ‘The Eagles are coming!’

  Arthur waved his staff and disintegrated a whole pile of vampires. One tried to sneak in behind him, but Arthur whirled around and grabbed the suck-face with an unseen force. He used the poor fool like a wrecking ball, smashing him into his own allies, but each time he hit one, they clung to him, creating a snowball effect which Arthur rolled along the battlefield, collecting more and more.

  And there was Carter too, but it was more than just him and his goons, Bert realized, as still more wizards poured out of the forest. He guessed at thirty, then fifty, then even more. More and more emerged from the forest, and their enemies ran like hell.

  The battle was met. The Hand of Magic had arrived.

  Bert felt a smile cross his features. Perhaps there was indeed hope after all.

  That was when the were-creatures made their move.

  They charged straight toward him, mauling anything in their path like a typhoon and filling the night air with their steady stream of barks. Bert darted forward to meet them. As with the clowns, he was the target, and if they got to him first, his friends might have a chance to escape.

  He summoned energy and hurled lightning bolts at the oncoming pack. Yelps of pain rose above the clamor of barking, and when one went down they disappeared beneath the sea of fur, but there was no measurable impact from his attacks. The rabid typhoon continued toward him, their resolve unbroken.

  He wished he knew which one was Howard, but didn’t. He’d not seen the leader’s dog form, and while Howard surely started at the front, Bert guessed he was somewhere near the middle of the pack at this point. He wouldn’t risk injury. That was the kind of flea-ridden sleaze bag Howard was.

  Bert fired bolt after bolt into the furry mass, but still they didn’t slow. Hunter ran up beside him and emptied his 1911. They bounded right over their dead, their hungry eyes intent on Bert.

  “Last clip,” Hunter said as he reloaded his gun. “Then I’m out!”

  “Of everything?” Bert asked. “That’s so unlike you.”

  “Well, excuse me, this is my first supernatural hoe-down.”

  “More like, first supernatural battle royale,” Bert replied. “Get back with the others. Stay behind me!”

  Neil stepped forward and started hitting the pack with straight line winds. Several stumbled and a few fell, but still they were not deterred.

  Bert stood his ground, gritted his teeth, and hurled one last bolt of lightning.

  Then they were on him. He swung Sharp back and forth, hacking at them wildly. He killed several as he stumbled backward, trying to keep his feet. The sheer weight of their charge was too much and he fell backwards, landing on his tail bone.

  He felt a stab of pain as one of them bit down on his ankle. Another latched on to his thigh. Claws and teeth ripped at him from every angle. His vision was a blur of moving fur. Still he swung Sharp back and forth, confident that he was dealing more damage than he was taking.

  Something knocked most of the weight off him before any real damage could be done. He glanced up and realized it was Kevin, using his augmented strength to punch and punt dogs to the side. He grabbed one by the legs and swung it like a club, knocking aside its pack mates.

  Bert scrambled back, still sw
inging his sword and looking for a way to escape. All his friends were engaged with the were-dogs. The wizards fired spells while Falcon swung his giant sword, and in the sky, Farrah rained fire at the pack, and despite their quickness, the smell of burning hair filled the meadow. Even Hunter, now out of ammo, threw himself into the fray, kicking and punching.

  It wasn’t enough. In a matter of moments, the dogs were on Bert again, driving him back to the ground. He cried out as teeth bit into his shoulder. He tried to swing Sharp, but another dog locked onto his wrist, pulling at his arm. More canine teeth sunk into his flesh. All over his body they latched on to him, holding him in place. Fortunately, they weren’t tearing at him yet. They could’ve shredded him in seconds, but for some reason, they simply held him in place.

  Something tightened around his throat, and he waited for the inevitable tearing of flesh, but it didn’t come. Instead, he realized what he felt was a hand and he opened his eyes to see Howard’s face hovering over his own. The pack leader grinned and spat in Bert’s face.

  He struggled against his captors, disregarding their sharp teeth, and snarled as he strained against their hold. He was pinned. There was nothing he could do.

  Howard’s grip tightened around his throat and he said, “This is where you die, wizard. I’ll be the first of the pack to kill a wizard with his bare hands. You’ve cemented my place as Alpha.”

  Bert saved what oxygen remained in his lungs and didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he tried to maintain a look of contempt. He couldn’t believe Howard would be the one to kill him. That was almost as bad as Chance. Not quite as bad, but close.

  He knew his friends were still fighting to get to him, but they were overwhelmed as well. There was no way they’d get through in time. This was it. Every time he’d thought there was hope, his enemies reminded him what big assholes they were. But it had to be fucking Howard? Really? He couldn’t get killed by Dasfarus? Or a clown? At least they were scary, and surely one of the clowns would juggle his head or desecrate his body in some interesting way. Howard would probably just tell his pack what a badass Alpha he was while he touched himself.