Valkeryn 2: The Dark Lands (19 page)

Thinking of the Arnoddr brought back fond memories for him to contemplate as he ran. The stories he told of his time and his people made them sound a wonderful race – peaceful, wise and kind. He would do everything he could to head them off before the Lygon and Panterran confronted them – they’d be slaughtered, and no match for the brutal denizens of this world.

Balthazaar glanced skyward as he ran, noticing the sun was directly overhead – it was middle-day before he had even realised it. He crashed to a stop and held onto a tree limb, his breath heaving in and out.

I’m too old for this
, he thought. He hadn’t run so much for half a lifetime, and though his Wolfen body was made for long distance running, age was slowing him.

Getting old is a terrible thing.

He pushed off and continued. He expected the Lygon would only travel half as fast as he. They were usually slow, only capable of speed in short bursts. Balthazaar knew he’d need extra time to try and communicate with the Man-Kind. To help with this, Vidarr had given him the communication stones – one of the artifacts recovered from the forbidden zones. Something from the Ancients themselves or some other great race that might have visited them many years ago.

He felt them in his pocket as he ran. The half-dozen small shiny objects were designed to allow communication between any sentient creatures – at least that was the legend. No one had ever had reason to use them before, as the modern creatures of the world all spoke with the one voice.

Balthazaar slowed again, and then stopped, listening. He tried hard to close his mouth and ease his breathing – he needed all his senses now in case there was immediate danger. He concentrated. It wasn’t any particular noise that alerted him, but the lack of sound. There was no chirruping of tiny things, no bird song, not even the snuffling of something small pushing through the underbrush. He eased behind a tree trunk, and lifted his head and sniffed; a salty smell similar to the sweat he had detected on the Arnoddr. Some sort of sweet perfume, and the smells of leather and oil – all of them, the scent of Man-Kind.

They were near.

His heart started to race –
had they seen him already?
He tried to think.
How should he present himself? How could he gain their trust quickly?
He didn’t have time for long drawn out games of communication. He tried to remember the talks he had with Arn, wracking his memory for clues to the exchanges.

He was wasting valuable time. He pulled a scrap of cloth from his robe, sucked in a deep breath, and stepped out.

‘Arnoddr Sigarr. Arnoddr Sigarr.’ He waved the cloth high, keeping his hands up. He waited, holding his breath, but there was nothing. He lowered his arms. Perhaps he had been wrong. He reached for the communication stones.

The explosive crack came from slightly ahead of him, and immediately a thud on his chest kicked him off his feet. His ribs burned like nothing he had felt in years. As his vision clouded, he saw multiple bodies crowding around him. One put a boot on his chest, and pointed something at his face.

There came another thud.

*

The running Delta Force came up in two columns of ten. Half a click out in front, two point men moved lightly through the forest; weapons up and ready. On the barrel of their rifles were motion sensors that could detect larger moving objects long before they could be picked up by line of sight.

Rodriguez spoke into his cuff mike. ‘Simms, got a warm body, coming in fast. Hold your position.’

Immediately into his ear he heard Teacher who had been listening in from their rear.

‘No take-down until we see what we’ve got. Clear?’

‘Clear.’ Came back in unison. 

‘I want them alive – use kinetic rounds.’

Rodriguez swore under his breath. Kinetics were rubberized rounds – slower velocity and low chance of penetration and damage. He reached into his belt and grabbed two of the long bullets.

He thought for a moment and then let one go, keeping the other and loading it into the breach of his gun. He then got down on one knee beside a tree, his body presenting a half silhouette with his eyes and gun barrel facing the approaching figure. About fifty feet across from him, the other point man, Simms, was doing the same.

‘I got this, Simms.’

‘Roger that.’ Simms never took his eyes off the forest.

Rodriguez thought he’d give whatever it was a single rubber round. If it kept coming, then he’d give it a live one, and send it straight back to hell. He had watched the film of the Green Berets being taken down, feeling a mixture of anger and fascination at the footage. The orange and black things were monsters. Also, the beasts that had been crucified in the desert were bigger than men, and looked pretty tough. This place seemed a world of horrors, and now those horrors were taking his team.

He narrowed his eyes and sighted on the movement.
Jackson had been his friend. Whatever was coming at them was not going to take anyone else. He wanted payback, and he wanted blood.

The figure stopped behind a stand of trees. It can’t have seen them, but had somehow figured out they were there.
Damned clever, but I can be patient too
, he thought.
Come to papa.
He waited…

… and waited.

He swore softly. Samson and the rest of the Deltas would catch up soon. He needed to take his shot. Just as he contemplated moving forward to flush it out, a large figure stepped from behind the trees.

It was still about eighty feet out from him, tall and lean, and slightly bent. He used his scope – it looked like one of the creatures they had seen nailed to the crosses. It waved a small white piece of cloth and shouted something over and over. It stopped and lowered its arms.

‘It’s reaching for something.’ Rodriguez pulled the trigger, and hit the figure dead centre. It blew back a few feet, and he raced over. ‘Gimme some cover, Simms.’

Rodriguez flew over the fallen logs and bracken, and stood over the creature, looking down with a curled lip of disgust.

‘You ugly mother.’ He put his boot on the chest. ‘Now that is one dirty dog.’ He pointed his rifle at its face, but reached down and grabbed one of its ears and pulled. ‘Jezuz, it’s real.’

Rodriguez straightened and once again used his boot to press down on the body. ‘Listen up you ugly freak; where’s the Colonel? I’m going to count to three… there will not be a four. One… two…thr…’

There was a thud as a fist hit Rodriguez in the back of the head. The man staggered forward, turning with his gun up. ‘What the fu…’

Teacher glared at him. ‘You trying to piss me off, Rodriguez? Stand down.’

Samson pushed Teacher out of the way. ‘Yeah, if anyone’s gonna ace one of these sons of bitches, it’s me.’ He pulled up short. ‘What? This ain’t one of those big things.’

Rodriguez turned his volcanic glare onto the creature at his feet. ‘It’s one of those dog-people that were crucified.’

‘Ugly.’ Samson kicked it.

Teacher knelt down beside the creature and helped it sit up. ‘Well, if those cat midgets put these guys up on the cross, then I’m thinking there’s no love lost between the two. The enemy of my enemy and all that.’

The creature’s eyes flickered open. Teacher held out a hand. ‘Give me some water.’ He turned to Rodriguez and clicked his fingers impatiently. ‘Yours.’

Teacher took the bottle and held it, not knowing how this would work. He pushed the bottle forward, and the animal reached up to take his hand, holding the bottle and guiding it to his lips. He watched it as it drank. The hand holding his was almost human – long fingers, but covered in an almost imperceptible fur. The nails weren’t flat like a human, but instead grew from the ends of the digits, and were thick and sharp – dangerous looking.

It was the face that intrigued him the most. He had seen the reconnaissance film of this type of creature attacking the drone, and was amazed at the features – wolf-like, but the facial muscles were more dexterous, expressive. The lips closed easily over the bottle tip, and no tongue lolled out to lap at the water. After a second, it handed the bottle back and turned its eyes to him – so clear and intense. There was deep intelligence there, and also wisdom.

It coughed and rubbed its chest. The creature’s mouth worked and it coughed again. Words came, but the language was impossible. Teacher shook his head, but touched his own chest. ‘I am Teacher. Can you understand me, then?’

The creature nodded and reached into its robe. Immediately a dozen rifles lifted and pointed at its face. Teacher half turned. ‘Stand down.’

Samson knelt down beside them and gripped Teacher’s bicep. ‘One false move and we send it back to hell.’

Instead, it carefully pulled from its robe three small, shiny rocks and held them out. It nodded. Teacher took one and held it up. The centre glowed. It was like a milky crystal, but with some sort of light inside it. Teacher wondered whether it was natural at all.

‘What is it?’

The creature nodded, and took one and lifted it to his lips, and motioned to swallow it. He smiled and nudged the back of Teacher’s hand, urging him to do the same.

‘Don’t do it.’ It was Alison Sharp, one of their second lieutenants.

Samson reached out to take it. ‘I agree, probably…’

Teacher tossed it in his mouth and swallowed hard. He shrugged. ‘Not a lot of options, or time. Besides… I trust him.’ He waited.

‘How do you feel?’ Sharp again.

Teacher tilted his head, trying to gauge anything different about himself. ‘Nothing. I don’t feel anything at all. Not sure what it was supposed to do.’

The thing on the ground before him cleared its throat. ‘It’s supposed to allow us to understand each other – and it did just that. My name is Balthazaar of the Valkeryn Wolfen, and I bring you bad tidings, Man-Kind. Urgent bad tidings, I’m afraid.’

*

After he recovered from his stunned amazement, Teacher managed to stifle his hundreds of questions and the Delta squad listened as Teacher translated what the Wolfen said.

Samson, seeing Teacher was suffering no ill-effects, or perhaps not wanting his second in command to be leading the debrief, snatched another of the stones and swallowed it.  Then, he, Teacher and Balthazaar talked for many minutes, before the old Wolfen pulled a roll of parchment from his robe and laid it out flat on the ground. It was a map of the lands and he pointed to where they were in relation to the castle, and finally where the Dark Lands were, and the place he believed the first Man-Kind to ever reappear, Arnoddr Sigarr, to be.

Samson smiled. ‘Mr. Arnold Singer… at last.’ He grabbed the old Wolfen’s tunic and pulled him forward. ‘He stole something very valuable from us. I need to find him and bring him back – urgently.’

Teacher grabbed Samson’s wrist. ‘He’s no threat.’ He turned to Balthazaar. ‘Our world, our time, is being torn apart, simply because Singer came through with something from our time, and somehow disrupted some great cosmic balance. According to our scientists, we’ve only got about a week to bring him back. After that… who knows.’

Balthazaar shook his head. ‘You have far less time than that, Teacher of Ohio. Tell me, how many more warriors do you bring? Are you in advance of a larger force?’ Balthazaar’s pale eyes stared into him, hanging on his answer.

Samson shook his head. ‘Tell him nothing.’

Teacher looked into the old creature’s eyes for a second or two before responding. ‘No sir, this is as good as it gets for now. But don’t worry, we have plenty of firepower.’ Teacher noticed the old creature seemed disheartened by the information.

Balthazaar sighed. ‘In a matter of hours, less maybe, a significant force of Lygon will be here. They will be accompanied by the Panterran, and never were two more cruel races combined in Hellheim or on the lands of Valkeryn.

Balthazaar groaned and got unsteadily to his feet. He held Teacher’s arm. ‘They tricked us. Found their way in through our fortifications, and brought our mighty kingdom down. Now we are no more than a few Wolfen scattered to the ends of the land. They live to destroy other races.’ He grabbed Teacher and pulled him close.

‘They will tear you to pieces, regardless of your powerful weapons, or your hubris.’ He let the soldier go, speaking softly. ‘They may also try and find your home.’

‘They can goddamn try.’ Samson pulled back his sleeve and looked at a large wristwatch. He shook his head. ‘Can’t afford to get bogged down in a prolonged firefight.’ Samson folded his arms. ‘These big guys are probably as powerful as a Mack truck on legs, but they’re dumb and slow. They won’t get within fifty feet of us. The little guys, Panterran you called them, caught us off guard. We won’t underestimate them again.’ Samson thought for a moment. ‘We do not have time to engage our enemy, find the boss, and then go trekking off to search for the kid. We need to do both at once.’

Samson turned to his team, who stood watching and waiting. ‘Okay, listen up people. We have a considerable force, inbound. We cannot outrun them, nor do we want to. We need to either put them down or punch a hole through them and retrieve Colonel Briggs.’ He looked along their faces, his own grim. ‘There’s another problem. Arnold Singer is still free and can be retrieved within the time frame allocated to us. But we must act now. We will need to split our objectives.’

Samson stepped forward, his hands on his hips. ‘Teacher you will take five – Simms, Sharp, Brown, Weng and Doonie, and you will locate Singer. The rest of us will find a defendable position, with a clear corridor for extraction if need be. Use extreme force. No prisoners; eradication of enemy is the only priority. Live or die, our minimum objective is we must hold them.’ Samson walked along in front of them. ‘We will not, I repeat, will not, allow them to get anywhere near the vortex, and our home.’ Samson grinned at them. ‘They don’t yet know who  they’re messing with.’

‘HUA!’

Balthazaar had been listening to Samson speak and was still rubbing his chest where the rubberized round took him. He turned to look along the faces of the soldiers. ‘Please, warriors of Man-Kind, they have your leader…’ He must have remembered only Teacher and Samson could understand him, and turned quickly back to the giant Delta Force captain, ‘… and the two young ones who appeared earlier. My friend will try and release the two called Edward and Rebecca, but your leader has already been integrated.’

Samson frowned. ‘I don’t care if they try and interrogate Colonel Briggs. She’ll never break, and anything she does give up will be useless misinformation.’

‘No, you don’t understand.’

Samson pushed the old Wolfen back a step. ‘It’s you that doesn’t understand us humans. The boss would die before giving up on her own.’