Awakenings (28 page)

“You know … ‘good.’ As in, ‘not bad.’”

Ben shifted like a welterweight, ready to go ten rounds. “No one knows what ‘good’ is. The concept of
good
is subjective.”

Seth wasn’t buying it. It trivialized his self-revelations and smacked of pop psychology. His silence must have broadcasted this to Ben. The old man retrenched and took on a more learned demeanor that belied his working-class façade.

“Look, son, there was this incident back in World War Two. My unit was ordered to take the town of Bernay from the Germans, see. We were a bunch of scared punks, bragging about women we didn’t have and money we’d never earn. What did we know about anything? In the hoopla of a firefight, some young local farm kids got killed. It didn’t take long to figure out our bullets killed them. Those Nazi cowards used them as shields. One young boy had his beautiful blue eyes blown out of his head. That boy’s face still haunts me today, clear as the day it happened. His eyes looking up at me from the dirt, accusing me of killing him. We were ready to give it up right then. I thought of turning my pistol on my own head a couple of times. How could I go home, face my parents, my brothers and sisters after that? When we won, the townsfolk surrounded us with cheers and beers. No American soldier left Bernay a virgin. But I didn’t feel like a hero. I didn’t feel ‘good.’ None of us ever talked about it. Just kept it in, the shame, the guilt. Took me years to move beyond that day. I still look at my own kids sometimes and shudder. What if one of them got shot? There but for the grace of God…”

“Great story, Ben. Really cheered me up.”

“Don’t be a punk-ass,” Ben said. “We didn’t set out that day to do a bad thing. That mistake didn’t represent my character, I know that now. But at the time I was too close to see it. Give it time, Seth. The past can drag you down like an anchor. It’ll drown you. But the days ahead are unwritten. They’re full of potential. So whatever you think good is, fix it in your head and work toward it.”

“What if I thought good was ridding the world of American imperialism through suicide bombing?”

“You wouldn’t be out here beating yourself up if you thought like that,” Ben said. “Look, you remind me of my youngest son. The missus and I were working a lot, trying to put the older kids through college. As a teen, he got into gangs, drugs, petty theft, getting girls pregnant, you name it. Stayed that way until he was twenty-five. Today, he’s a youth counselor earning his masters in social work.

“The way you carry yourself, thumb your nose at everything, you strike me as someone who didn’t get enough attention as a kid,” Ben continued. “Your antics are for getting everyone to notice that you don’t care that no one cares about you, like some adolescent tantrum. Grow up. Be an adult. If you really want redemption, you’ll find it. Life always throws you opportunities when you least expect them.”

Seth thought it unlikely. The weight of his history was more than his capacity to bear. Still, he considered Ben’s words. “You still think about those kids?” Seth asked.

“Yes. They’d have been parents themselves today if they lived. But I won’t let one bad moment define me. I’m Benito Hector Marin Reyes—father, husband, deacon of my church, town alderman, and retired draftsman. A good man who made a horrible mistake once.” Ben swallowed with the strength of a general holding back tears.

Here was a man, living with a horrible act, who refused to give up and went on to accomplish great things, Seth realized. Out of all the people in the world, the last living sorcerer on earth picked him to be its guardian. Seth wasn’t much older than Ben was when he stormed Bernay. Perhaps there was time to do better. Seth’s eyelids grew heavy. He would kick Ben’s words around in his head and decide how to apply them in the morning. Then he remembered something the tree said; something about Lelani’s translations.

“Ben. Rosencrantz appreciates all you’ve done for it,” Seth said with a strange confidence.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It said, ‘the keeper’s saplings will know fortune.’”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re the keeper. Fortune will be with your descendants. Your family line is blessed because of your work here. It’s the tree’s way of paying you … of thanking you. Communicating this to you is its price for helping us. Don’t ask me why I know this. But I’m pretty sure of it.”

Ben smiled and finally gave way to the tears he’d been holding back. “Well how ’bout that,” he said.

Seth grinned. Being the bearer of good news warmed him in the cold night air. It felt
good,
whatever that was.

Seth breathed deeply, grateful for the pristine northern breeze. Suddenly, his hackles rose. There was something impure in that last whiff. He heard the distant crunching of snow from several directions in the darkness around them.

“Ben, walk back to the trailer slowly,” Seth whispered. “Act like nothing’s wrong.” Seth walked in the opposite direction, away from the trailer and toward Rosencrantz.

“Seth?” Ben whispered.

“Just do it,” Seth stressed, in hushed tones.

Seth pretended to pick up kindling wood around Rosencrantz’s base. He hoped the tree wouldn’t be offended. Ben made it to the door. The next moment, there were whistling sounds in the air. Seth ducked in time to avoid a bolt. It flew over him. Another hit Rosencrantz’s trunk. From the trailer door, Ben let out an agonizing scream. A shaft had pierced his thigh. He fell into the trailer. Two more bolts penetrated the aluminum door just as Ben shut it behind him.

Seth heard more whistling and rolled to the other side of Rosencrantz. The tree took two more hits. Seth wondered if the tree suffered pain in real time. Seth found a fallen branch large enough to make a good club. The crunch of boots drew closer then stopped. Seth didn’t dare move. Any sound would give away his position.

With the stars out in force, he could at least see a few feet around him. He made out two shapes approaching the trailer. The edge of the lantern light touched on their …
fur!
Gnolls!

Shit,
he thought. Seth closed his eyes and listened for the ones that were still out in the darkness. The crunching was closer. They were creeping right toward him.
Shit, shit, shit!
Lelani had said gnolls were nocturnal. He was a sitting duck. But why weren’t they on him already?

Seth sought out the ones closer to him. He saw their eyes floating in the darkness, reflecting the light from the lantern like possums on a country road.
The lantern!
Seth realized. It screwed up their night vision. They couldn’t see him there. But it wouldn’t last. Another second and the gnolls by the trailer would extinguish that light.

Seth searched for another branch within arm’s reach, a smaller one than his club. He found one and lifted it quietly. Without getting up, he hurled it behind him as far as he could into the meadow. When it landed, he heard whistling and the thud of bolts hitting that spot. The crunches now headed toward that area. Seth crept to the other side of Rosencrantz with his makeshift club.

The two at the trailer smashed the lantern. The feeble light that eked out of the trailer window was useless. The earth became black under the starry heavens. Seth shivered, his clothes wet from lying on the ground.

With crossbows drawn, the gnolls at the trailer opened the door.

Ben!
Seth panicked.

One gnoll’s head exploded at the discharge of a pistol. The other gnoll shot a bolt into the trailer, just as a second blast painted the ground with its guts. Cal stepped out, a pistol in each hand. He put another round between the thing’s eyes.

The group near Seth showered the trailer with bolts. The gnolls charged Cal even as the cop stormed into the night, firing two-fisted into their midst. The gnolls’ path would take them past Rosencrantz and Seth. The one in the lead was huge, at least seven feet. The smallest in the group was about Seth’s height. He stayed back to take what Seth thought was a drink, but was in fact putting his lips to a horn. Seth was frozen as the beastie blew out a long alarm into the night. The first two gnolls passed by him. The one with the horn moved to rejoin his brothers, but when he was close enough, Seth stuck his club out and tripped him.

The gnoll held on to its crossbow as it rolled. It fired at Seth, who held his club in front of him like a shield. The bolt punched through the branch and glanced off one of Seth’s ribs.

“Fucking shit!” Seth yelled.

He raised the club and swung it down on the beast, who caught it before the branch could connect with its head. The gnoll twisted the club. Seth refused to let go and soon found himself off balance, then on his back. They rolled on the ground, struggling with the club between them. Seth managed to get on top. The thing had the most horrible breath, like a garbage truck in a heat wave. Behind them more gunshots, but Seth couldn’t spare the concentration. Feral jaws snapped at him. Seth tried to bring the branch between him and the beast’s canine teeth. He realized he was losing this tug-of-war just as a fourth and fifth gnoll entered his peripheral vision, charging from the night.

A whistling noise sounded. Seth braced for the arrow’s impact but heard one of the rushing gnolls whimper and gurgle instead. Lelani vaulted over Seth, longbow in hand, as she charged the remaining gnoll.

“Hold tight,” she shouted to Seth as she passed him, rushing the remaining gnoll.

Do I have a choice?
Seth thought.

Seth lost his leverage and his opponent flipped him over. He landed on one of the dead gnolls. Its head had been blown apart. Seth caught a glance of Cal in hand-to-hand with the biggest brute of the pack as he tumbled over.

Seth’s adversary was on its feet already. Seth’s hand fell on the dead gnoll’s crossbow. A drawn bolt was already in the chamber. His opponent lunged at him. He picked up the crossbow and fired in one motion, hitting the creature on its side below the rib cage. The creature landed on him, pushing him to the ground with the crossbow between their faces. Again, a small wooden obstacle came between him and a set of killer jaws. His luck couldn’t last for long. The thing was enraged—thrashing wildly from the pain of the bolt. Its claws tore into Seth’s arms and shoulders. Seth pulled his knees toward his chest and managed to get his feet under the gnoll’s stomach. With all of his ebbing strength, he pushed the thing off him and scrambled away.

Cal and his gnoll were between Seth and the trailer; Lelani’s battle was to his side. Seth found himself weaponless with Rosencrantz at his back. He leaned against the tree for support. The bark was warm as flesh. He became a conduit for the tree’s energy. Heat traveled through Seth’s body, tingling, giving him a boost.

The wounded gnoll lunged at him. Seth put his hands up and soon gripped fur. A gentle heat traveled through him, and where Seth touched the gnoll with his hand the thing’s flesh melted into slag. The thing let out an inhuman howl of pain, nearly shattering Seth’s eardrum. Not questioning how, Seth seized the gnoll at its throat and again the flesh melted at his touch. The energy from Rosencrantz flowed from his hand on the trunk and through his body. He held his grip, pushing farther back, like a hot poker driven into butter. The dripping sludge of muscle and bone could no longer hold the creature’s head to its body. The gnoll’s head rolled off its shoulders, frozen in its shocked expression as it hit the ground. Seth pushed the thing’s hairy headless corpse away.

He looked around.

The giant gnoll had pinned Cal down. The cop jabbed it with his hunting knife, but the beast used his feral claws to rip apart Cal’s body armor. A shot rang out in the night. The big gnoll howled in pain. He bled from the neck. Cat leaned against the trailer door, a smoking hunting rifle in hand. Helen came up right beside her holding a shotgun. The gnoll abandoned the cop and lunged at the women, but Cat stood her ground and fired again.

The beast fell on its face and skidded to their feet from sheer momentum. Helen fired once more into the back of its head for good measure. “That’s for Ben, you son of a bitch,” she said.

Seth relinquished his grip on the tree. The winter chill enveloped him, like exiting a Jacuzzi on a cool day. He ran toward Cal, picking up another thick branch en route. His hand was sticky with melted flesh and cooked blood. Cal rose and examined himself for wounds. Cat hobbled to him on her air cast and crutch, while Helen guarded the trailer door.

“Oh God!” Cat exclaimed. “Cal, are you…”

“Fine,” said the cop. “My vest took the brunt of it.”

The last remaining gnoll in the party, realizing he was outnumbered, backed into the darkness around them.

“Where’d that fucker go?” Seth asked.

“He’s out there,” Cal said. “We need to get after it.”

“Not a good idea, dude,” Seth said. “I think the little one got a call off to his buddies. He had a horn.”

They heard a horn, emanating from the direction of the gnoll that had just left. The sound echoed through the night and sent a shiver of dread down Seth’s back. “It sounded a lot like that,” he added.

“Great! Good work, porn star.”

Seth resisted the urge to tell Cal to go fuck himself. They heard a crunch to their left and raised their weapons.

“It’s just me,” said Lelani, coming out of the darkness.

Under the starry light, Seth glimpsed the silhouette of her equestrian half; her human legs were translucent. The image looked like movie projections superimposed. Her illusion was stronger in the day because it utilized light, and in its absence it waned. It was odd to Seth that he understood that … a law of magic that he recognized, the way a science student accepts planetary mass. It was starting to come back—cracks in the dam that concealed his earlier life.

“Lelani,” Cal said, “we’ve got to brighten this area up before reinforcements arrive. We’re dead in the dark.”

Ben came out of the trailer with three more lanterns and two gallons of kerosene. His injured leg was bound with a tourniquet. Helen covered him as he hobbled about placing lights around the trailer.

“Ben, what are you doing out here, you old coot,” his wife said.