Silverstone

by C E Johnson

  “We will drive fear into the hearts of our enemy!” Wuldur roared back. He again attempted to push away indecent notions. The ideas were secondary to his primary half-dead directives, and he didn’t want to be distracted right now, not before a battle. A rattlesnake hissed at him from the side of the path, and his mare shied away from the serpent. He drew a dagger from his belt, and with an expert flip of his wrist impaled the beast with his steel. He controlled his anxious steed with ease, but he was certain that where there was one snake, there was sure to be more. “Come back here, Kirbee!” he called protectively. “There are snakes in this area.” Like an acrobat, he moved fluidly to one side in his saddle, leaning low to retrieve his weapon while still in motion.

  Kirbee circled her filly and came back to his side. She drew her lips into another defiant pout. “You’re no fun at all.” Her filly slowed to a walk.

  “I have to be a leader,” Wuldur protested with a sigh. Deep down, he knew she was right. He wished he could share his inner desires with Kirbee. Sometimes he felt as if there were a world of commitment on his shoulders weighing down his light-hearted desires. A silence descended between them, and he delved into the assimilated stormy elements in his mind for advice. The seething turbulence was always just below his perception. The lives he had taken were waiting for him to focus on their tendrils for wisdom. Lately, his inner selves seemed coordinated. They were attempting to direct him on a path where he might attain enlightenment through a mental journey to attain intellectual and ethical wholeness.

  “Always about structure, orders, and rules,” Kirbee added. Although she spoke in a taunting voice, he heard something else beneath it all. Her words were somehow filled with both respect and kindness at the same time.

  Milo caught up to them and they walked their horses three abreast along the trail which widened in this area. “The fires are getting bigger,” Milo observed. Gesturing toward a nearby hill, he distracted Wuldur from his inner reflection. “And there are more clouds of smoke forming in the distance toward Austin.” Milo nodded at other plumes of smoke rising in the distance.

  “I think you’re right,” Wuldur said slowly. He studied his surrounding intently before peering toward the nearest flames. Cedar burned extremely hot. He didn’t like the unpredictable nature of fire. He glanced at the strong were-wolf who had appeared to lope at their side. “Lyall, what is your assessment?”

  “We’ll have to move our camp if the fires grow and angle toward us,” Lyall answered in a low growl, “but for now I think we’re okay.” He tested the wind and grunted, “I’ll scout ahead.” Leaping to the front of their small pack, he moved just beyond their horses. Breaking into a steady loping run, he led them away from the plane wreckage and toward their camp.

  “The greater the fires, the greater the chaos,” Milo exclaimed. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before taking one foot out of a stirrup. Wincing, Milo stretched a leg out with delicate motions. While Milo was distracted, his horse quickened his pace, and Milo rapidly replaced his boot in the stirrup.

  “You do need a massage,” Kirbee stated plainly. Wuldur didn’t like how he felt as he imagined Kirbee rubbing Milo’s legs. She turned from the men to face the smoke rising in a steady stream toward the sky. “Did Iscar plan the fires?” she asked Milo. Milo had been in conference with Iscar during a strategy session when many of Iscar’s ultimate plans had been revealed.

  “Iscar has more than fire planned for Earth.” Milo flashed a smug smile. “Just wait for round two. Soon there will be snow and ice. He was now steadily slowing down the pace of his mount until they were moving at a crawl. Each bounce on his steed appeared to be giving him pain. He continued speaking while wincing, “Iscar foresaw the rapid destruction of the social systems on Earth with the breakdown of supporting networks such as police and fire departments. More than ninety percent of the humans on Earth are going to perish just from the effects of nature. The remaining survivors will be desperate to follow a strong leader.”

  Wuldur knew Milo was right. “I’m impressed by Iscar’s planning,” he admitted. “His father, Samil, would have been proud.”

  A devilish look appeared on Kirbee’s face. “I’m tired of you slowpokes. I want to be the leader for a little while even if there are snakes around.” She pressed her knees into the flank of her filly, and it bolted past Milo and Wuldur. “Catch me if you can!” Her voice danced back to them through the air. She thundered down a small ravine.

  “Don’t injure yourself, vixen!” Milo chortled while rubbing an obvious soreness in his neck.

  All at once, Wuldur’s assimilated thoughts were unified and they were all urging him to dance on the wind with Kirbee. Race her! screamed the voices in Wuldur’s head. He could scarcely believe the thoughts and feelings rising unbidden to his mind. Chase her! He was beginning to wonder if there was a separate path of lawlessness upon which he could travel while still serving Iscar and his primary directive. Allowing his steed to spring forward, he blew past Lyall in a rush.

  “You are not acting like a very dignified shade leader,” the were-wolf snorted dismissively as Wuldur sped past.

  “You’re right!” Wuldur shot back. He couldn’t hide a smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Giving in to his inner desires, he threw caution to the wind as he dashed down a rocky hill just behind Kirbee. Screaming a challenge at him, a hawk wheeled lazily through the smoky sky just over his head.

  “You’ll never catch me!” Kirbee chortled.

  To gain an advantage, Wuldur jerked the reins to the side and turned his black mare down a barely-there path that served as a shortcut. Kiss her! The assimilated voices called excitedly in his mind. Immersing himself in the smooth and steady flowing stride of his mare, Wuldur leaned further forward. Her neck was already damp with sweat and a lather began to form. The horse, though, was finding pleasure in the race, and she surged forward faster and faster as if flying on wings. She was laboring beneath him to grant him all he longed for. He leaned low as he came back onto the main trail. He was even with Kirbee now. “I’ve caught you!” he yelled.

  Kirbee turned to him, her eyes wide. Excitement danced in her dark irises. “Can you believe we live again?” Her voice was full of joy as they moved together, side-by-side, faster and faster. “Why do you think we’ve been allowed to breathe once more, to experience all of this joy another time?” she asked.

  Wuldur shook his head in amazement while shrugging his shoulders. Kirbee was pondering the same questions he asked himself so often. “I don’t know,” he murmured just louder than a whisper. Was the purgatory of Ater a penalty for my prior actions that I now need to identify and redress? Have I been given a second chance, a rebirth toward enlightenment? Do I need to atone for my sins? So many questions swirled in his mind. Was he was meant to use the combined knowledge from all his assembled past lives to cast off his ignorance and influence his final life? Could he evolve into something glorious?

  “I feel like a young girl again,” Kirbee gushed, interrupting Wuldur’s thoughts. “There’s a warmth growing in my heart.”

  Wuldur laughed, “Don’t distract me!” Kirbee was right about one thing. He couldn’t believe he was alive. Maybe I’m simply meant to live for the here and now, to find a partner who I can fight with and even love? His horse gained a step. “I’m going to beat you!” he roared. He treasured this moment and suddenly he didn’t really care if there was some underlying meaning to his existence.

  “I’m gaining on you,” Kirbee retorted with joy. Their camp was just ahead, and both of them leaned into the wind. Magicians and half-deads came out of their tents to watch the end of the competition. Crowding together, they lined the path, even stretching a makeshift ribbon to span the final length of their race. With hooves clattering heavily on limestone, Wuldur was one step ahead as he exploded into the crowd.

  “I won!” Wuldur thundered with a fist raised to the heavens. He jumped from his mare as a goblin ran up to take the horse from him.

 
; “You must have cheated somehow,” Kirbee said gently. She jumped from her horse and fell into his arms. She was soft and sweet, and smelled of sweat, leather, and life. More color was flickering on her cheeks than Wuldur had ever seen on her, and her breath was coming in short gasps.

  “I never cheat,” Wuldur said softly. This time he couldn’t stifle his assimilated desires. He kissed her, and as their lips touched, music began to play in his mind. Nuzzling her neck, he heard her gasp in pleasure.

  Kirbee pulled back and tenderly said, “About time.” She gave him a wicked smile before leaning back into a second kiss. Time had no meaning as Wuldur explored the sensations he had missed for so long. After they realized who was watching, they both backed several steps away from each other slowly, confused. Love was almost unheard of among the half-deads and dating between races was especially rare. His assembled warriors stared at the two of them in silence before busying themselves with tasks. Astonishment was clearly written on their faces.

  All at once, Lyall bounded into camp. Directing Wuldur’s attention toward the burning aircraft, Lyall moved to Wuldur’s side. “I can’t believe that plane came down just beyond our perimeter. I hope the fires don’t get any closer.” Lyall was all business. Wuldur could tell he was debating if their camp was safe. “We may need to move after all,” Lyall growled.

  Wuldur attempted to slow his still racing heart before addressing Lyall, “I don’t think Iscar would have been pleased if a random act of a jet crash had wiped us out just before we took Emily Dalton captive.” Putting his hands on his hips, he studied the flames coming from the plane wreckage in the valley below as he tried to focus his attention on something other than Kirbee’s beauty. The flames had reached the trees that bordered the lake in the distance.

  Kirbee likewise put her hands on her hips, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she hesitantly moved closer to Wuldur until their elbows made contact. Electricity sparkled in Wuldur’s body at her touch. “I’m beginning to wonder if anything is truly random,” she said in a hushed voice as she peered toward the lake studying something in the air just over the body of water. “Look! A wyvern,” Kirbee called while pointing excitedly.

  “Are you sure?” Wuldur asked. Smoke was drifting through the air from nearby fires, nearly blocking his vision.

  “Of course I’m sure, I have eyes like a hawk,” Kirbee boasted. She pointed toward the majestic half-dead bird-like creature that eventually came into Wuldur’s line of sight. It glimmered orange in the afternoon sun. The beast was gliding in their direction. Wuldur turned away from the wyvern and he allowed himself a small smile while watching Kirbee. She looked like a young girl in her excitement. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered breathlessly.

  Not nearly as pretty as you, Wuldur thought just before he glanced from Kirbee back to the wyvern. The dragon-like creature was much closer now. Gliding through the sooty vapors, it appeared just over a distant hill.

  “I’m sure any earthlings viewing that half-dead will imagine hell has unleashed dark souls onto their planet,” Lyall growled.

  “Just wait until they get a load of you,” Kirbee teased. They all laughed together as the creature landed in a rush in the clearing next to them creating a storm of dust and a swirl of smoke.

  “Reinforcements are approaching,” the wyvern rasped after catching its breath. Laboring to breathe, the beast gestured with a leathery wing toward the ravine below. Wuldur could barely make out a column of goblins and trolls hiking in their direction. “I guided them here without incident,” the wyvern added proudly.

  “Excellent work.” Wuldur was proud of the beast. He ran his hand over the alternating rough and smooth scales on the wyvern’s chest. “Rest until the battle tonight,” he urged. The creature’s chest was still heaving. “There’s food for you over there.” Wuldur directed the wyvern toward several cookfires, and the wyvern moved away.

  “Now you have some seasoned soldiers to give to Doeg and Delores,” Kirbee said smugly. “Goblins and trolls.” She gave Wuldur a knowing wink.

  Wuldur studied the ever-increasing number of approaching warriors. “I’m sure there’re more than enough for Doeg. I’ll also add to our own troops.” Wuldur inclined his head toward Kirbee. He would make her a powerful army.

  “I feel like a spoiled child,” Kirbee said softly. She studied Wuldur for a moment before adding, “I’m getting everything I’ve asked for.”

  At that moment, Milo finally came into camp at a plodding pace on his gray stallion. The stallion stared pointedly at Wuldur, and he imagined just how frustrated the horse must be by its extremely slow walk. Milo dismounted gingerly. A female goblin stablehand couldn’t help snickering at Milo’s weakness as she took his stallion. Milo’s eyes shot daggers at her as a team of several green dark rejuvenators came up to lead him to a rejuvenation station.

  Kirbee reached out to squeeze Wuldur’s hand while giving him a coy look before she went to join the other vampires. “I’ll be over here if you need me,” she said in a soft tone while winking at him suggestively. Wuldur turned from Kirbee to study his makeshift camp. As happened so often when a large group of half-deads came together in one place, his squads were largely organized by races. The vampires were sitting off by themselves beneath a cluster of oak trees talking together quietly. They wore black leather and longswords and exhibited agility and finesse. Kirbee was enveloped by her comrades as she approached them.

  “Squad, by my command, attention!” called a voice in the distance beyond the vampires. This order came from the shade area, and the words were emanating from a burly shade nearly as large as Wuldur. The half-dead was the leader of the shade brigade. The shades were on the far side of the camp. Wuldur was proud of the fact that the shades always seemed to choose the best location for their tents. Wuldur’s lieutenant, the squad leader, was assembling his warriors into an orderly formation. Progressing through a complex sequence of martial arts moves in synchrony, the shades began training together under the guidance of their impressive warrior. Every head was as bald as Wuldur’s own, and their shirts were off, muscles bulging. They wore brown, gray, or tan leather pants that creaked and snapped as they kicked in unison. Wuldur knew he could count on his brethren to act and fight precisely.

  Without warning, a were-wolf barked out a long keening howl. “Cut that out!” Lyall barked to one of his wolf warriors. Wuldur turned to look toward the center of the camp where his mixed contingent of were-creatures was clustered, primarily bears and wolves. They were clumped together in a mass of fur and teeth. The horses began to shake their heads nervously. “You’re making the horses restless,” Lyall rumbled angrily to his clan. His ears were pricked forward.

  “I can’t imagine any animals would enjoy being corralled next to a bunch of wolves,” Wuldur called out to Lyall with a smile on his face. Lyall chuckled darkly as he exposed his deadly canines to Wuldur in his own deadly grin. Standing on the fringe of the camp, they both studied their herd of horses, cared for by the goblins. The animals stomped and trumpeted their unrest. “Do we have enough steeds for all of our riders?” Wuldur asked Lyall. He tried to count them, but they were agitated and moving haphazardly in their pen making them difficult to number.

  “No, but I’m certain we’ll have enough to capture Emily,” Lyall assured his liege.

  “Bring the new squad to me when they arrive,” Wuldur ordered Lyall. He was frustrated that despite his numbers, his cavalry would be small. He would wait until nightfall to confront Emily and the remaining bands of Blacksky warriors guarding her. Iscar had suggested she would be very weak on Earth, but Wuldur wanted to be ready for anything. The Blacksky teams had been here for quite a while and had hardened their defenses. He wanted overwhelming odds. Gazing across the camp, he located Kirbee and found she was staring back at him, looking like an ethereal dark angel. He didn’t want to die once again and have his spirit go back to Ater anytime soon. Shaking his head at his weakness, Wuldur went to his tent.

  The goblin
and troll platoons eventually hiked into camp, and Lyall brought their commanders to Wuldur. Wuldur met them outside his tent. The goblin commander wore boiled leather armor that was dyed a blood red and a scimitar-shaped short sword he carried bounced at his hip. He bore a small round shield of black leather pulled over a wooden frame. His hair was long, and he smelled foul. “We’ve followed Iscar’s orders. We’re ready to serve you, shade Wuldur.” Flashing a sinister smile, the goblin’s eyes flickered randomly in furtive motions as he spoke.

  “We’re ready to kill,” the troll commander added, slamming an upright spear he held into the ground. The troll stared straight ahead with his tan, coffee-colored eyes. His hair was in a mohawk, the favorite troll fashion. He wore enameled plate mail, inlaid with silver in the shape of a dragon, on his chest.

  Wuldur nodded to the creatures. The camp was coming alive and many warriors were starting to come out of their own tents. He spoke in a loud voice so everyone in camp could hear him. “I’m glad my goblin and troll brothers have arrived. Let’s discuss our mission.” The combined half-deads continued to assemble in an orderly fashion around him. He reviewed the goals with his teams. “There will be squads of Blacksky warriors that we need to crush before we capture Emily Dalton. She’s an arch-mage blue magician. She knows of the location of a portal which we will eventually need to take us back to Acacia after the Earth War. If she won’t reveal her secrets to us, Iscar wants to pry the information from her mind at an in-processing center that’s forming in New Orleans with a squad of magician interrogators. She must not be killed, and her Doberman bondsmate obviously has to be spared. Anyone else you encounter is expendable.”