Terry W. Ervin (32 page)

We made the road and rounded the small hill before the hounds broke from the last stand of trees. Two hundred yards ahead our road crossed another running north to south. On the northwest block, between two immense oaks, sat the burned ruins of what must have been an inn. Behind it stood the charred remains of horse stables. The surviving posts poked up from the ash like tar-covered fingers.

I estimated by the sound that the hounds were fifteen minutes behind us—less if we slowed down. If we ran between the leaning oak on the left, I could spread Shaws’ powder there. The hounds wouldn’t run through the ash while tracking and I might have enough to scatter to the left of the tree for safe measure. Then Lilly and I could circle back to the road instead of leaving a clear trail through the grass. Even if it worked, Lilly and I would have to get out of sight. It was just hilly enough to have a good chance of getting away unless the ogres guessed right. If they caught up to us, I hoped Lilly would run when I turned to face them down. I dreaded such a confrontation, but after running for so long it was almost welcome. I’d give them the Blood-Sword, blade first.

When we were ten yards from the crossroads, a figure stepped from behind the leaning oak. The man, wearing a dark blue uniform, locked a bayonet to the end of his rifle’s muzzle. A Crusader?

“Are the dogs after ye two?” the Crusader asked, thumbing back his muzzleloader’s hammer to full cock. I knew it was the last step before aiming to fire.

Lilly stood next to me as I addressed the Crusader. I couldn’t read his face behind the bushy mustache and muttonchop whiskers. “They are. They and their ogre masters.” I held my spear ready but not pointing at him.

“Heathen brutes.” He squinted his left eye, appraising us. “Does thou ride winged serpents?” he asked me.

I kept my eye on the Crusader even as the baying closed. He held his rifle pointed away. “Does it matter?” I asked.

Lilly yelled, “He does!” at the same time the Crusader said, “It does not.”

“Ye are too spent to flee further. I offer to stand with thee against thy wicked foe.”

I stepped closer. “I don’t know how many there are.”

He laughed. “I am here by divine guidance, and am too old to match either heathen brute or canine pack on foot.” He held out his hand and smiled. “Shall we give them steel united?”

I had little time to think. The Crusader looked anything but frail, although streaks of graying hair showed beneath his forage cap and in his whiskers. Besides his rifle, he carried a saber and what Road Toad described as a cap-and-ball revolver.

“I am Paul Jedidiah Roos.” He looked past my shoulder as we shook hands. “Intent on their foul deed.”

I’d seen Crusaders in combat. None would ever side with the Necromancer King. “I’m Flank Hawk.” I nodded to my companion. “This is Lilly.”

The Crusader frowned at her. “It is, is it?” He ran his finger under his nose. “Ready your crossbow, Hawk.”

While I did, Lilly removed her wool vest and bunched it into her left hand. The scowl she sent the Crusader’s way could have soured fresh milk. She picked up a palm-sized rock and tossed it up twice, testing its weight.

I stood between them, with Lilly on my right. “Can your rifle drop an ogre?”

“The Lord willing.”

“Are we just going to stand out in the open?” asked Lilly.

In the back of my mind I’d become so resigned to the eventual confrontation I hadn’t considered an ambush. Still, already knowing the answer, I suggested, “Lilly, I would feel better if you slipped away. No sense in you risking your life.”

“I’m staying,” she said.

“Armed with a rock?” Even if she left, I couldn’t risk the Blood-Sword unless the Crusader fell.

“’Tis likely the brutes will have more difficulty slaying it than ye, Hawk.”

I caught Lilly by the collar as she launched herself at the Crusader. “Self-righteous bastard!” she screamed and hurled her stone at him.

The Crusader’s reflexes were fast. He ducked the rock, and if I hadn’t interceded, Lilly would’ve impaled herself on his bayonet.

The hounds neared. An ogre’s bellow mingled with their baying. I pulled Lilly back. “Stop!” She relaxed, but I didn’t release my grip. “Lilly is my friend, Crusader.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Then ye don’t know thy friend is cursed?”

“I know and trust her more than I do you,” I said as Lilly screamed, “Liar!” I had no idea what the Crusader was accusing Lilly of, but now wasn’t the time. He must’ve read the look of anger on my face.

“I offered to stand with ye both,” said the Crusader, pointing his bayonet away from us. “If we should prevail against our common foe, the verity of my statement may be judged.”

I let go of Lilly, reached down and grabbed a smooth stone. “Here,” I said. “We’ll surely die if we fight among ourselves.”

Just then, four leashed mudhounds came around the hill, two ogres holding them in check. A third ogre pointed and reached for a large horn hanging at this side.

The Crusader shouldered his rifle and spoke as he aimed. “We cannot have that.” A thunderous crack sounded from the muzzleloader along with a small cloud of smoke. The ogre had managed to get the horn to his lips, blowing a scant second of the first note, when the bullet shattered the horn before slamming into his scab-covered nose.

The wounded ogre staggered back, hands over his face to hold back the torrent of blood.

Already the Crusader had torn a packet holding powder and bullet open with his teeth. “Keep the dogs off of thee.”

The ogres released the hounds. The two hundred pound canines raced towards us. Their masters followed with spiked clubs in hand. The mudhounds continued baying, their broad muzzles showing sharp fangs. Their ears were back, and the mottled brown and black fur stuck out like bristles on a scrub brush.

The ogres weren’t armored, only wearing fur hides. I aimed at the leading hound and fired when it had closed to forty yards. My quarrel bit deep into its shoulder, slowing it.

Crack! One of the charging ogres staggered in stride upon taking the Crusader’s bullet in the chest. Bellowing in pain and anger, it lumbered forward, crossing the road.

I didn’t have time to reload my crossbow, so I set it aside, took up my spear, and stepped forward to meet the four hounds. Lilly ran past, chucking her rock. She circled wide right, drawing the mudhound whose snout she’d bloodied.

Lilly had to fend for herself. Three hounds and two ogres were more than I could handle, even with Crusader support. A grim calmness settled over me as I slid left at the last second before lunging forward. The leading hound leapt at me, yellow fangs bared. I caught it with my spear and drove the tip deep into its chest. Pivoting, I yanked my spear out, allowing the hound’s momentum to carry it into the second pack member, temporarily keeping its snapping jaws at bay.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lilly whip her wool vest into the face of her hound foe. Like a fighting cock, she sprang right and grabbed onto the hound’s collar. It spun, snapping at her despite the vest tangled in its maw. She held on and somehow managed to leap onto the hound’s back before sinking her dagger deep into its ribs. The hound yelped and rolled over onto her.

That was all I saw. I slammed the butt of my spear into the jaws of the quarrel-wounded hound. The blow stunned the beast, giving me time to face the other two hounds. The one I’d stabbed was down. But its pack member, now more wary, snarled and circled. It was trying to maneuver so that my back would be to the quarrel-wounded hound.

The Crusader’s rifle sounded again. An ogre stumbled and crashed to the dirt, its left eye and part of its skull blown away.

I charged the unscathed hound facing me. It gave ground. Instinct told me to dodge left. Still, the wounded hound clamped down on my right leg from behind, biting mostly armor between its teeth. It yanked, shook and hauled back, trying to pull me to the ground. I shifted the grip on my spear and slashed, tearing deep into my attacker’s throat and face. Its broad collar saved it from a quick death. The mortally wounded beast continued tugging and twisting on my leg armor in a battle frenzy.

Staggering, I kept my feet to meet the unscathed hound. It leapt, knocking me back with jaws snapping for my throat. I jammed my spear shaft into its maw as we crashed to the ground.

I struggled to keep the hound off me. Its hot, snarling breath was at my throat. Saliva sprayed my eyes, as I held the straining jaws inches from my face. A swift helmet butt to the snout blunted its attack, enabling me to throw it off.

The hound on my leg slumped to the ground, having bled out. I kicked its head with my left heel, freeing my right leg. I rolled away, releasing my spear and reaching for my sword’s hilt, knowing the quarrel-wounded hound would be on me before it cleared the sheath. Lilly barreled into the hound as it closed on me, knocking it off stride. The fraction of a second gained allowed me to draw my sword. Distracted by two foes, scattered dead pack members, and the grunt of an ogre falling after another crisp gunshot sounding, the beast fell quickly after my sword thrust to its neck between collar and ear.

“Thanks, Lilly,” I panted.

Scrapes and ash coated her sweat-covered face. “Are you glad I stayed?” Her teeth gleamed white in a broad smile.

I looked to see the Crusader prodding the fallen ogres with the point his saber. In his left hand, he held his revolver cocked and ready. “The brute with the horn has fled.”

“Thank you for standing with us,” I said, wiping blood from my sword on a dead hound’s fur. “We’d have been hard pressed without you.”

He lifted off his cap, revealing a balding scalp, and wiped his forehead. “Ye were pressed even with my steel.” He looked about. “We should depart in haste.”

“He’s going with us?” asked Lilly, her eyes following the Crusader’s saber as he sheathed it.

“For the moment,” I said, picking up my spear and crossbow, “I don’t see why not.” I tossed Lilly her wool vest. “The ogre sounded his horn briefly. And the blast of the Crusader’s firearm will attract attention.”

“Hawk, ye may call me Roos.” He reached behind the tree and grabbed a backpack. “And the one Hawk calls Lilly, ye are loyal to thy claimed friend. ’Tis sufficient for me.”

“My name is Lilly, Crusader.” She stood with hands on her hips. “I want to hear you say it.”

“How will ye explain to thy friend the swift healing of thine wounds?” He pointed to his cheeks before nodding to her and pointing at her face. “In an hour we shall know if he still names ye, Lilly.” He shouldered his backpack, unfixed his bayonet and sheathed it.

They continued to glare at one another. “Whatever your debate,” I said, “it’ll have to wait.”

Lilly looked at me with fright across her face. “Run!”

I trusted Lilly’s instincts. We took off down the west road, but not fast enough. Over my shoulder I saw it—the giant from the meadow. Spotting us, it doubled the pace of its lumbering strides.

“A goliathan,” said Roos, reaching into his leather cartridge box that hung over his back hip by a shoulder strap.

“Can your rifle stop one?”

“Nay, friend Hawk. To fell a goliathan requires a rifle company, or so I have been told.”

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

“Are you still there?” asked Dr. Jackson, Head of Trinity Hospital’s Emergency Services. He refrained from shouting into his phone. “Hello?” The line’s silence switched to a dial tone.

“Damn.” Dr. Jackson punched his finger down on his phone’s intercom, connecting him with the department secretary. “Get me Dr. Sorenson at the CDC again.” He took a stabilizing breath. “We were disconnected.”

“Sure thing,” replied Miss Gonzalez, stress hanging in her voice. “I still have the mayor on hold and the governor just called. He’s on hold too.”

“No word back from Dr. Metha?” he asked, looking at his notes. He’d placed an emergency call to his colleague over at the University of Chicago Hospital’s Infectious Disease section.

“No,” said Miss Gonzalez. “Should I call the university again?”

“No, that’s okay.” The secretary, like half the staff, knew there was a problem down in Emergency and the Isolation Ward. “Give me the governor.”

It took the magic of Grand Wizard Seelain and flaming dragon breath to chase off the last giant I’d faced. And a dragon and a half dozen battle-hardened soldiers died in the effort. Lilly carried a dagger and the Crusader fought with a rifle. I had magic—healing, Short Two Blades’ talisman, and the Blood-Sword. Only the evil sword had the strength to slay a giant, maybe.

I stopped and turned to face the giant. Up until that moment, I couldn’t think of a reason to draw the Blood-Sword. We were dead if I didn’t risk it.

“Flank Hawk!” shouted Lilly, noticing I’d turned.

Roos stood to my right and loaded his rifle. “My fate is to die for thee, Hawk.” He slid the ramrod back into place and set a cap on the muzzleloader’s nipple.

“Roos, this isn’t your fight.”

Lilly grabbed my left arm. “Run! Let the Crusader fight the giant.”

The ground vibrated as the giant closed with a gnarly-toothed grin spread across his face. He hefted a club that was nothing more than an uprooted tree. The crown and branches had been stripped, but clods of dirt still clung to what remained of the roots.