Sic Semper Morituri

Index of Chapters and Sections

Return to Table of Contents

Chapter P,     1,     2,     3,     4,     5,     6,     7,     8,     9,     10,      Dream,     11,     12,    13,    14,    15,    16,    17,    18,     19,     20,     21,     22,     23,     24,     25,     26,     27,    28,    29,     30,    31,     32,     33,     Four Thought,     34,     35,     36,     37,     38,

Genesis
     Seeking with Soul the Land of the Greeks
     A Useless Life Is An Early Death
     Without Haste, But Without Rest
     If I Love You, What Business Is It Of Yours?
     The Spirits That I Summoned Up, I Now Can't Rid Myself Of
     I Love Those Who Yearn For The Impossible
     Meine Ruh'ist Hin, Mein Herz Ist Schwer [My Peace Is Gone, My Heart Is Heavy]
     More Light
     There Is A Strong Shadow Where There Is Much Light

Genesis - A side story of Sic Semper Morituri       Back to Index

Genesis - A side story of Sic Semper Morituri



Disclaimer:

I do not own any of the characters from Ranma 1 / 2, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Ah My Goddess, or the Lovecraft Cycle involved in these stories.



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Author's Note: this is the story Adam Smith, Maj.  Alfred ggreg and Joma told Nabiki aboard the U.S.S. Bennington in Chapter 38 (July 14, 1947)



Wer nie sein Brod mit Tränen ass

Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte

Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,

Der kennt euch nicht,

ihr himmlischen Mächte

[Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,

Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours

Weeping upon his bed has sate,

He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship, book II, chpt. 13 - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

     Longfellow's translation



Seeking with Soul the Land of the Greeks       Back to Index

Seeking with Soul the Land of the Greeks

     Adam looked around the table aboard the U.S.S. Bennington, and began his tale, "It was a beautiful late fall day in 1944.  ggreg and I were pursuing another case in the Boston area.  Harvard had many books we needed, but a horse race on the grounds would have attracted attention anyway."

     "Five dollars on . . . "

     "I'm sorry," Jeff interrupted the student, "The race has begun, the book is closed.  Better luck next time."  Jeff took a moment to enjoy the scene.  Jenny and Lightning had made an early lead, now only one horse and rider were even close.  Jenny had brought Lightning back east to stud a few Kentucky mares, and to see Jeff.  She was on holiday from Northwestern and was making next year's tuition.  The 'Cliffie Girls' had been so cute in their riding ensembles, Jenny had taken their challenges at face value and had demanded a steeplechase course.  Jeff and his allies had one laid out, he'd led Lightning over the course while Jenny had narrowed the field to eight contenders.  Now the best was nearing the first turn, a huge oak tree.  Lightning lived up to his rodeo and barrel riding ribbons and crowded the 'Cliffie Girl's' gelding off course, then he ducked his head, taking the blindfolded Jenny close to his neck and through a turn tight enough to draw the envy of any fighter pilot in the world.  Once clear, he thundered to the next obstacle.  The girl sawed her horse around and drove him, it actually, around the tree as the pack thundered by.

     "Boss, didn't we specify 'Around the outside'?"  Lou Castilogni, one of Jeff's `assistants` asked.

     "We did, that fit of pique put her out of the running," Jeff answered.

     Over a fence like the champion jumper he was, and enough warning to Jenny she kept her seat easily throughout, slaloming through a stand of trees, left, right, left and across the homestretch.  Jeff now approached the finish line.  He held up a hand.  Lightning obediently slowed to a canter, and while the others lathered their mounts to catch up, Lightning crossed the finish line.  Jeff noted who finished where and jogged over to the chalkboard where another of his assistants was recording the finish and the odds to be paid.  Almost nobody had bet on Jenny to win, once she'd announced she'd beat these amateurs blindfolded.

     Jeff stood on a chair so the others could see and hear him, "Ladies and Gentlemen!  I can't thank you enough for your generous contributions today.  For those of you who lost, console yourselves that the Red Cross and the U.S.O. won.  For the few of you who won," Jeff let the laughter build, then subside, "Please pick up your War Bonds from the person to whom you gave your money.  I apologize that my estimate is sketchy, but I believe this puts Harvard over the top again this month for contributions to the Red Cross, the U.S.O. and the War Bond fund."  Polite applause and a few cheers.  "I think you didn't hear.  WE BEAT YALE AGAIN!"  Vigorous hurrahs this time.

     "For those of you who couldn't give green today, there's a blood drive on Saturday near Administration, give them a pint of Crimson.  If you can do both, God Bless."  Jeff climbed down, he saw the groundskeeper heading towards him.  Normally, after the damage the horses did to the manicured lawns, he'd expect the man to have a hatchet or a pruning hook, but the man played the ponies.  Instead he'd get his pound of flesh a different way.

     "Stuart, $10 on Jenny, to win."

     "Thank you, Mr. Stuart."  Jeff counted out $200 in War Bonds.  "And." He pulled ten from his own pocket, "Libation for you and your crew, after the hard work we put you to.  I will be checking on that."

     "Ya donna trrust a fella Scot?"

     "Aye, ah trust a fella Scot w'money.  If the Brits really wanted to end the war however possible, they'd tell the Scots the Hun would take all their money.  Germany would rapidly become a vast, empty hole."

     "Aye," the groundskeeper said, looking at Jenny currying Lightning. While the 'Cliffie Girls' were ignoring her, some of their more `horsy` parents were talking to Jenny.  "'Tis almost worthy the work tae see sic a race."

     "And its snobs get whirled aboot their noses?" Jeff asked.

     The man left laughing.

     One of the 'Cliffie Girls', still on her horse, approached.  "The race is invalid, she crowded me off course."

     "Jenny was blindfolded," Jeff replied, You don't intimidate someone with your horse if they can just reach up and grab the bridle.  "The horse cut you off himself."  Jeff shrugged.  "Take it as a compliment, you were the only opponent worthy of the name."

     She snorted and wheeled her horse away.

     Not my fault you ride dumb horses, Jeff thought, then looked up, Professor Samuels, it never rains, but it pours.

     Jeff put a smile on, "Professor Samuels, Mr. Rivetti, how can I help you?"

     "I have two dollars coming."

     "I'm sure Mr. Rivetti has two dollars in War Bonds, unless he was very unwise."

     "I want it in cash," Professor Samuels, Jeff's main nemesis on campus told him.

     Jeff knew it was a trap, and he'd long ago prepared a counterattack.  "You mean you want winnings in cash and not in War Bonds, Professor Samuels?" Jeff used his `parade ground` voice which the assembled students and faculty could clearly hear over the entire field.

     "Keep your voice down!" Samuels hissed.

     "Since you must be hard up for cash to make a request like that, I'll pay you half-again what you're owed."  Jeff handed him a small coin purse.  The professor triumphantly scuttled away.  Angry looks and murmurs followed the professor, already overly mindful of his position and public opinion, words would hit him where it really hurt.  Jeff spotted MacMurphy, the huge man slowly bulling his way through the crowd, "Excuse me."

     "But, Boss . . . ," Tony Rivetti protested.

     Jeff caught MacMurphy's arm, "Just where are you going, Mister MacMurphy?"

     "I heard what you said, Mister Davis.  Everybody on campus probably did.  He can't get away with that."

     "Mister MacMurphy, you still owe $30 from last week's poker game," Jeff said quietly, "That sum came due, yesterday."

     "Yeah, well, I'm kind of, short, not enough liquidity."

     Too much, considering where the man's money had gone, Jeff considered, "I would be willing to extend the note to say, next Wednesday, when your allowance comes in.  In return, I want you to take no action against the good Professor, you and your circle will see to it no one else does either."

     "But Jeff," the huge man protested.

     "Mister MACMURPHY.  I have already settled accounts.  Thirty pieces of silver is the traditional payment for such behavior, the account is paid in full."

     The big man's face cracked a huge smile, "Pleasure doing business, Mister Davis."

     Jeff was tallying up the accounts and closing out his `assistants'` cash boxes and account books.  Rivetti, normally among the first, was waiting in the rear, fidgeting.  "Mister Rivetti, if you are standing on a hot plate, you should desist," Jeff commented, "You'll ruin your shoes."

     "Boss, I'd like an advance."

     Jeff glanced over the top of his glasses, and kept counting, "Continue."

     "Well, I met a girl, there's a really good Italian seafood restaurant, but it's expensive."

     Jeff began counting the cash in Rivetti's box, "Jenny Davis, correct, Mister Rivetti?"

     "How'd you know?"

     Jeff made a stack of bills, and a notation in his account book.  "You and I are much alike, sir.  We prefer women who appear to be more trouble than they're worth, but are actually of greater worth."  He began counting the coins.  "My cousin is that kind of girl.  And Mister Rivetti?"

     "Yes, Boss."

     "Do you remember Mister Sullivan's unfortunate encounter with me as a sophomore?"

     "I don't think I'll ever forget it."

     "Jenny is one of the people who taught me how to fight."

     "Boss!" the implication offended Rivetti, "I will be a complete gentleman at all times!"

     Jeff checked his ledger against his count, letting Rivetti sweat a few moments.  "I know you are, she may not want you to be at all times a gentleman.  Jenny is an intoxicating and very independent woman.  She is not just Family as you understand it, that isn't meant as a slur, but a point of reference.  She is also Clan, I have no desire to have a reason to explain the difference to you."  He opened his wallet, extracted two fifties, "Advance denied."  He offered the bills to Rivetti, "Standard rates.  Are we hearing one another?"

     "Yes, sir." Rivetti gingerly took the loan, "Carriage ride then?"

     "No, she'll want to drive.  The carnival, games of skill, roller coasters, and such."

     "Yes Boss . . . Mister Davis?"

     "Mister Rivetti," Jeff said in a lighter tone.

     "There are times, I'm glad you're not Italian."

     "Thank you, Mister Rivetti, have an enjoyable time."

     "Looking after my purity?" Jenny teased Jeff as they headed for his room with the ledgers and the day's `take`.

     "Your purity is your concern.  I intend it to stay that way."

     "Thanks for the race, it let me blow the cobwebs out of my head and show off Lightning."

     "Worried about graduating early?" Jeff teased back, "Without your M.R.S. degree?"

     That earned him a poke, "You should learn to respect your elders."

     "Even maiden cousins?  No, Rivetti is a good man.  His family is as shady as they come, I think he'd jump at the chance not to go into the family business."

     "Is that why you arranged the guards?  That somebody might steal Lightning?" Jenny asked.

     "No, the privileged may not take being beaten by a commoner, and they may take it out on the horse.  Lightning's already killed one fool who tried that back in Wyoming, I'd rather it not happen here.  Besides, I like the money that he brings in also."

     "Well, if Lightning keeps bringing in those fees, I'll be able to afford a ranch of my own."  Her head came up, "Uncle."

     Jeff looked at his uncle's stern face and realized he'd have some explaining to do.

     "Jenny, good to see you, you have a date, so we'll talk later.  Mister Davis."

     "Yes, Dean Davis, should I bring the ledgers?"

     "I think you might."

     "In trouble again," Jenny teased.

     "My natural condition."

     In the Dean's office, a British and a Chinese gentleman in suits were awaiting him.  The Dean indicated for Jeff to surrender the ledgers to the Chinese man, who began going over them with an abacus.

     "Professor Samuels was - quite - embarrassed by your performance this afternoon."

     "I reasoned that being publicly ridiculed was better than being privately pummeled.  A number of persons seemed eager to express their displeasure in a way that would evade misinterpretation."

     "Thirty dimes, three dollars," the British man spoke, Jeff couldn't place the exact accent, "I don't get the reference."

     "Thirty pieces of silver.  Thirty silver dimes," the Dean supplied.

     "A wicked sharp barb," the British man nodded.

     "You might interest, Captain Grey was it?" the Dean said.

     "ggreg, three lowercase gees total, two in front."

     "In your excuse for your `activities,`" the Dean said with distaste.

     Jeff respected his uncle too much to blurt out 'To make money,' so he launched into his practical answer, "The forbidden is always attractive, what only seems forbidden holds its attraction as well.  At sporting events, at hard-fought debates, there are those wishing to test their acumen against others in predicting the outcome, friendly wagers are made.  As it contravenes laws, such a thing would never be done at Harvard."

     Both the Captain and the Dean nodded solemnly.

     Jeff continued, "But the human impulse remains.  The system I devised: a `bettor`, let's use the word for convenience at the cost of accuracy, makes the wager with the booking agent.  If the bet pays off, the `bettor` is paid, in War Bonds.  Guaranteed pay by the U.S. Government.  Therefore, allowing an enjoyable activity and encouraged by the faint whiff of immorality, the `bettors` who place their money with me . . . "

     "Ninety-seven thousand dollars for this month!  You took in $97,000," the Chinese man shouted excitedly.

     "That's throughput," Jeff countered, "Total input, total output.  Take a look at the previous end of month disbursements.  Besides, Yale and Cornell were going all out to beat us, I had to step up my `activities.`  This month was not typical."

     "Salary, U.S.O., Red Cross, and there is almost nothing left."

     "True, as I was saying, those that lose, know their money is going to the Red Cross and the U.S.O., to support our boys, and girls, overseas.  I'll freely admit, it is a cynical way to shake people down for donations, but it's all done with the best intentions on all sides."

     "How much do you keep?" the Captain asked.

     "Half of what a registered bond seller would get for his efforts.  I need food, to pay rent, and tuition.  If the government is willing to let others make money, I'll take half that and consider the good I'm doing."

     "A somewhat Machiavellian scheme.  I take it Professor Samuels takes offense?" the Captain asked.

     "Indeed, he is a typical fraud, decrying the flaws of others while secretly indulging his own.  He has had Dean Davis, the Dean of the Business School, and several government officials go over my books, certain I am enriching myself at the expense of Harvard's good name.  I don't need to, I live modestly, I am two and a half years from graduating, I've already published works and the Alumni are well aware who has been masterminding our efforts to keep ahead of Yale in student donations to the war effort.  War or no war, some rivalries are eternal."

     "Cambridge and Oxford," the Captain admitted.  "We came here to do some research and frankly we think you can help us on that end.  Since you are a patriot, which is what we needed to know, I can tell you the work is for the OSS and it is top secret."

     "I'm ready and able to serve," Jeff said.

     "Some of your, `colleagues'` connections may also be necessary."

     "Considering that, disreputable, is the politest thing I've heard said about my associates, I find that curious and a little disquieting."

     "You don't trust them?" the Chinese man asked.

     "I trust them with the collection and not to steal from the monies we collect, but that's patriotism on their part.  I doubt I'd fully trust them to manage my personal assets or my stock portfolio."

     "What we'll need is definitely help of the patriotic variety, and someone said, 'Troubled spirits are the ones you want when trouble comes.'" The Chinese man said.

A Useless Life Is An Early Death       Back to Index

A Useless Life Is An Early Death

     "You said it," Jeff interrupted Adam's story, as he put aside the bowl of rice and gave Adam an appraising look, "Are you going to tell her everything that happened that week?  Is that wise?"

     "She is your wife, she needs to know these things."

     "We are not married," Jeff said again, with fading patience.

     "You live in the same house, you do the chores, you wash all of each others clothing, she wants to give you babies - "

     "Adam!" Jeff snapped, "One more word down that road, and the 'Garden where I'll help the flowers grow,' you'll get it, only you'll be helping them from underneath.  Am I making myself clear?"

     "Adam, desist," ggreg urged.

     "She needs to . . . "

     "Are. We. Clear?"  Jeff was stroking his thumbs across the tips of his fingers.

     Adam paled as he stared.  "Very clear."

     "Good." Jeff sat back, after pouring everyone more tea.

     "The girl needs to know what happened, especially in reference to what happened in San Francisco," Joma added reasonably, "She tried to follow you into danger.  That speaks highly of her feelings."

     "All I did was take some pictures."  Nabiki blushed.

     "Very well," Jeff relented.  Deciding not to risk Jeff's reaction to Adam's embellishments, ggreg took up the story.

     "I'm surprised they allowed you down here."  Jeff scanned the page of the ancient tome in the glove box, he turned a page with the padded forceps.  "I've only managed to slip down here twice.  And did I get in trouble.  There is a college in Rhode Island that may have more of what you are looking for."  (1)

     "They wouldn't have you."  the Chinese man said from the book he was reading.

     "What's that supposed to mean?" Jeff wished he were carrying his pistol.

     "Your training with Black Eagle is known to us.  Also your delvings into the Field Museum in Chicago," ggreg told him, while going through a series of pamphlets from the last century.

     How'd they find out about that? Jeff wondered, Very few people knew both stories, and all can keep a secret.  Jeff's eye caught the notations on the page, "I've got something."  He automatically translated the Latin of the Necronomicon into the Chinese symbols the Chinese man had showed him.  "Useless.  They mistranslated it along the way, maybe even from the original Arabic."

     "But these almost correspond to the inscriptions," the Chinese man said excitedly, peering over Jeff's shoulder.

     "However, the relevant commentary is gibberish, or at least a fanciful interpolation.  I wouldn't stick my neck out over what is written here."

     "Does that other place have a better copy?" ggreg asked.

     "Yes and no.  They probably do, they probably won't let you see it."  Jeff paused, weighing how far he could trust them.  "There is another copy on campus, much older and probably accurate."

     "Let's go see it," Adam said.

     "You know any magic words to toss a marine out of his own dorm at 23:00 hours?  I don't," Jeff admitted.

     "Does he know about your father?" ggreg asked.

     Jeff grimaced.  "Yes.  He was there when I got the telegram."

     "Leave it to us," ggreg said.

     "Just so I don't have to be in the room," Jeff said.

     Malkowitz patted Jeff on the head as he went out and Jeff went in.  The look of grim determination and the white knuckle grip on the baseball bat were in stark contrast to the man's disheveled clothes.  The ex-marine pulled the door closed behind him and rolled his wheelchair to his station in front of the door.  No one was going to get past him.

     "Do I want to know what you told him?"

     "Not until you're ready," ggreg said.  Jeff pulled a stereo microscope and a box of film strips from his closet. He paged through them, until he found the one he was looking for, it went on the microscope stage.  Careful focusing.

     "There, does that look like what you were describing?  It looks like the Kabbalah or the Tree of Life, but the 400 odd symbols are different and the connections have there own notations."  Jeff told ggreg while the Chinese man stared through the microscope.

     "Exactly," the Chinese man squinted through the eyepiece, he reached for a stronger lens, Jeff slapped his hand away, "My scope, my copy, my rules.  Besides, it's not out of focus, you can't read the descriptions."

     "Why not?" the Chinese man said irritatedly.  Jeff said something in a language neither of the newcomers understood.

     "You don't understand the language.  I do."  Jeff displaced the man and changed lenses to read the sections of the page, making notes.  "'Forty runes and twenty-two elements bringing the whole.  Balance within, balance between, balance without.'  And all the runes and elements are named, their powers delineated, I'm not going through all of them unless you need me to."

     "No, does it describe how the runes and elements came to this world?" the Chinese man asked.

     Jeff went back to scanning the page, moving the microscope stage as necessary.  Minutes then an hour crawled by, Jeff changing film strips as necessary.  "Dragon Kings?  Beings from beyond the stars are 'coupled', it could mean bred with or possessed, dragons to form something new.  They drew their strength and sustenance from the runes and the balance among the elements.  There's more."

     "Does it give any clue what could defeat one of them?"

     Jeff stared through the eyepieces, occasionally changing filmstrips, until the lightening of the sky could be seen, occasionally making notes on what he read.  "One of their own, an imbalance in the runes and elements.  What I keep coming up with is a keystone.  One rune or element typifies each Dragon King, and an attacker can remove the rune or supercharge it to defeat him.  Immortal, but trapped.  Caught in the maelstrom of its own strength and opposing natures."

     "Very useful, all we need do is discern which rune or element and duplicate it," ggreg said.

     Jeff stretched in the chair, "Twenty-two elements, most not corresponding directly to the five elements of Greek philosophy or the five eastern elements."  Jeff yawned, it had been grueling.

     "Five?" the Chinese man asked.

     "Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Quintessence, the highest and purest of all, these elements have the basic Greek form and combinations of them, and manifestations of Newtonian Forces, but they also have Elements I've never heard of and the runes are all over the board.  Some even duplicate the elements.  Trying to keep the whole in balance would give the best power, knock out the right prop and you should weaken the whole.  Let me get some sleep and go over my notes, and I should be able to find a universal weak spot.  It won't be kryptonite, holy water, or kill'em dead, but it should weaken it to allow someone to go for the kill."

     Jeff walked through the camp in the Dreamlands, it was laid out like a Roman camp, so it wasn't difficult to find the Meliorist's tent.  The sentries had recognized him and passed him along, after verifying he was who he appeared to be.

     "Knock, knock?" he said before entering.  Langley the Meliorist sat behind a camp desk, mired by the paperwork that always seemed to keep him out of the field, except when he and his staff could make strenuous efforts.  Which they rarely seemed willing to, for a host of reasons.  He suspected that they didn't like him risking himself.

     She looked up.  "Well, Jeffery Kevin Davis, the Scholarly Dragon, as I live and breathe.  To what do I owe this honor?"

     "Langley, what is this?" he asked, "You said you'd be gone two months, it's been almost four.  I need my cavalry commander and my chief of scouts back."

     "Are you sure of that?"  Langley sighed and turned away.  "You have to know what's going on in the Waking World.  For your side the war's going great, but I've become a liability."

     "Why don't you leave the political end to me?" Jeff replied, "That's always worked out.  I bet you can't name one Red Dragon who wouldn't back you up or follow your orders.  A few loud mouths don't make policy."

     "That isn't it either."

     "Fine, I'm an idiot, you've always said so.  Explain it to me in words of one syllable."

     Langley sighed, walked over to her camp bed and sat down.  Jeff sat next to her, she settled into his arms, holding him so tightly he feared he might not be able to breathe.  He knew she wouldn't cry, but he knew she desperately wanted to.  They'd done this before, and he'd been the one who needed Langley solidity on a few occasions as well, most notably when Samuel had died.  That they hadn't taken 'the next step', after several decades of this kind of intimacy, frustrated a number of matchmakers they had known.  But it wouldn't feel right to either of them.  She broke away a few minutes later, sniffled as she looked at him.  He hated seeing her like this.

     "I can take care of myself in the council chambers," he told her, "Besides, you remember what happened to the last knight who underestimated my swordsmanship."

     Langley guffawed once, both remembered the `mere mage` chasing a howling knight around and beating him silly when the man finally collapsed.  He wasn't able to sit a horse for months, and no healer would cure him.

     "Okay, but I just want this war over before the Waking World's."

     "All right, now the truth is out.  You know full well, I'll get you out if things go badly.  I'm well aware of what the Soviets were doing to the Russians, the Ukrainians and the Cossacks even before the German Invasion."

     "You don't have those kinds of contacts," Langley said as she stood, "Not in the Waking World."

     "Oh, you'd be surprised.  It's getting Unit 02 away from the Soviets that worries me."

     "That's easy, you'll be able to buy it from them.  Very greedy, your dedicated Socialist," Langley scoffed, "Our best intelligence tells us what we've been searching for is here somewhere."

     "I think I can help with that," Jeff said as he extracted a map tube from his pack, "On the condition that you agree to return once you have the weapon, those aren't just my conditions, but the archivist, Alwyk and Altara's too."

     "That's not fair."

     "Your word."  He paused with his hand on the cap of the map tube, staring at her.

     "Anna!  Quit eavesdropping and get in here!"  Langley yelled.

     Anna walked in sheepishly.  "I'd hardly be a good scout if I didn't stay close to the real action."

     "Your word," Jeff repeated.

     "Witness," Langley commanded, "I, Asuka Soryu Langley, the Knight of Celephais called the Meliorist, vow that once we have recovered the weapon, I and my command will return to the duties as deputy commander of the Red Dragons," she swore in German.  "Good enough?"

     "Yes."  Jeff removed and unrolled the map.  "Here, just two miles away.  In these hills, that's where you should find the target.  It's called the Daimorigon.  The literal translation is Fear of Dragon, interesting it isn't Fear of the Dragon.  Here are some notes on the guardian beast.  I don't think a couple hundred knights, lancers and horsebowmen will be enough.  I can have a dozen dragons - "

     "No!" Langley said quietly, "Old friend, I have to do this.  I have to end this on my terms.  While I appreciate your desire to help, and your impatience, I have to do this my way."

     "Very well," Jeff said, "I take it you don't object to one itinerant wizard assisting you."

     Langley smiled, "Well, you'll have to prove you can use a sword, but I think we can find a place at the mess for you."

     "I suspect they could get above the cave, draw the guardian out, and catch it with a rockfall.  The archers and lancers can finish it off," he suggested.

     "Any wonder why we keep him around?" Anna asked.

     "I'll let you read over the material, I'm going to walk around."

     "The sawbones are in the usual place," Langley said as she studied the map and the papers, "I know you, you ole' S-Dragon."

     Outside, Anna followed the ole' S-Dragon.  "I'm glad you came.  She's been . . . she's taking what's happening in the Waking World very personally.  You know her."

     "Yes I do.  I can understand her frustration.  Of more immediate concern, that monster's latest attacks have been weaker, that either means he's building up to something, or we're finally winning.  The Dragon Council has agreed to add more combat dragons.  We might actually be able to take the offensive, if this weapon is half as effective as the legends put it, we may actually be seeing the end."

     "You know she'll never get credit for it."  Anna scuffed the ground.

     "You really think she cares about that?" Jeff asked in reply, "Besides, if the war does end, with her help, she'll have written herself into the history books.  And we both know how she feels about that.  The King knows she's no Nazi, despite anything anyone in Germany says."

     "I guess."  Anna walked alongside him in silence.

Without Haste, But Without Rest       Back to Index

Without Haste, But Without Rest

     The gentle shake awoke Jeff.  He pulled on his wire-rimmed glasses and looked at the concerned face that seemed to fill his dorm room.  Right, Harvard, October 1944, he thought quickly.

     "They took her," Rivetti said without preamble, "Snatched her right out of her crib, the bastards."

     "Language, Mister Rivetti."  Jeff struggled to wake up.  "And some details, you know enough to use pronouns, I don't."

     "My little cousin, Lucia, not even 18 months old, the Castilogni's practically left their signatures."

     "The police?"  Jeff knew it was a dumb question.

     "Of course not, this is familia."  The brief lapse into Italian said it all.

     Captain ggreg and the Chinese man entered with tea and some fried egg sandwiches, Jeff could smell both.

     "Interesting development, the Rivetti's young daughter has been kidnaped.  Evidence points to the Castilogni family.  For some tea and one of those sandwiches, I'll tell you why it's so interesting."

     ggreg quickly handed them over.

     "The patriarchs of the Rivetti and Castilogni families are great collectors, competitors, for oriental objects d' art," Jeff told them between bites, "The elder Mister Rivetti likes jade and puzzles, the elder Mister Castilogni likes dragons.  Guess what they nearly came to blows over, about eight months ago?"

     "They kidnaped Lucia to trade her for the dragon statue?" Rivetti couldn't believe what he'd just said.

     "No lad.  Someone else kidnaped the girl," ggreg said in a faraway voice, "Someone who wants your two families to fight, while they steal the dragon in the confusion."

     "Who'd do that?" Malkowitz asked.

     "Do you really want to know?" Jeff asked.

     "How come the hair on the back of my neck stands up every time he says that?" Malkowitz asked, "No, I don't want to know if you're using that tome."

     "Good man," Jeff gulped down the tea, "Captain, sir, Mister Rivetti, I think -"

     "He does, that's his worst feature," Sharon stuck her head in the room, there was little room for anyone else.  Jason was behind her.  Jeff decided if he were going to hold staff meetings, he was going to need a bigger dorm room.  "We heard your sister was in town, we thought - we'd hoped we'd interrogate her and discover all your darkest secrets."  Sharon grinned.  The grin worked on everyone except Jeff, which seemed to intrigue her no end.  Jeff could never get over that he and only he either noticed or was bothered that the girl cast no shadow.  He'd seen weirder things, but that one bothered him, as both a scientist and a mage.

     "I'm a wizard in the service of dragons," Jeff supplied.

     Everyone laughed at that, although Jeff frowned.  "I need a shower in any case.  Mister Rivetti was with Jenny, he knows where he dropped her off.  Sharon Lauren and Jason Bornston, my nemesis and Sisyphus rock, respectively."

     "He's so kind," Jason said, then whispered loudly, "Did he just insult us?"

     "Yes, I believe he did insult you," Sharon commented.

     "Captain Alfred ggreg of His Majesty's forces, and . . . "

     "Adam Smith," the Chinese man said.

     Jeff just rolled his eyes at that.  "I'm going to get a shower and then to work, Mister Rivetti can tell you where Jenny is.  I'll let her deal with you two.  You do know how they make haggis, don't you?"  He left the room.

     The quartet of Jeff, Rivetti, ggreg and Adam walked toward the Rivetti home.  The streets were wide, well kept.

     How unlike London, ggreg thought as he admired the manicured lawns and gardens.  He didn't begrudge that the war hadn't touched here yet, but he did resent that England was bearing the brunt of the German's fury on the Western Front.  The V-weapons seemed to be killing more civilians than they were killing soldiers in the field.

     "I don't know how you came to that conclusion," Adam said.

     "I'm guessing," Jeff admitted, "But I finally remembered where I'd seen some of those symbols, it's on the base the dragon rests on.  There were other characters and I didn't recognize all of them, now I recognize them."

     "Oh boy," ggreg commented.

     "What are you three talking about?" Rivetti asked desperately.

     "The person who may have stolen your little cousin thinks he's a wizard.  So the ancient device will be useful."

     "So she was kidnaped by a nut," Rivetti commented.

     "Very likely," ggreg said as Rivetti opened the door for them, "Better to hurry and get her back."

     "Just what are you playing at?" ggreg asked in Chinese.

     "We'll need gunners if we're going to attack that thing, they have followers, that means we'll need soldiers or the equivalent."

     The Rivetti patriarch stared at the odd collection of people entering his study.  The women in the house were going crazy at the loss, many were demanding he do various things.  He'd retreated to the dark-paneled, private and quiet room to think.  That little Antonio would bring people in, to invade his study, the boy would be seriously punished.  Brother's son or not.

     "Uncle, I hate to bother you."

     "If it's about the girl, I don't want to hear it," the elder Rivetti growled.

     "Sir, we'd like to see the jade dragon, the one on the movable concentric rings," the tall British gent said, then introduced himself and his friend, "Captain ggreg and Adam Smith, in service to the Crown."

     The man frowned and stood up, leading them to the cabinet, opening the wooden shutters.  He remembered the stories of how eccentric his nephew's young friend was.  "There it is."

     The newcomers looked into the locked glass cabinet at the rampant dragon carved out of a single piece of Imperial jade.  He stepped away and motioned his nephew over.  "What is this?" he asked in Italian.

     "They think someone is trying to steal the dragon, not the Castilognis."

     "Nonsense," the man roared, "We have old man Castilogni's lighter, the fool dropped it."  Then he realized he'd been shouting in Italian.

     "Even I know what the man's lighter looks like, making a duplicate would be simplicity itself," Davis commented in surprisingly good Italian, "I believe this is a case of 'Let's you and him fight.'"

     There was something wrong with the boy's eyes as he stared.  They were old and hard, like the eyes that stared at the older man in the mirror every morning.  "Explain," the old man coldly demanded.

     "Captain ggreg and Mister `Smith` came here to investigate the theft of something, your dragon qualifies as that something.  Someone means to steal it from you."

     "THOSE - !" he remembered his manners, switched to English, "Those . . . gentlemen . . . you were investigating, they'd steal my little one, to get this thing?" he asked in a barely controlled voice.

     "Yes," the tall Brit said, "And pit you against Castilogni to further the deception."

     "I'll go meet with my colleague in the Castilogni household.  I somehow doubt that Mister Castilogni will appreciate being cast in the role of kidnapper, especially of a child."

     The man nodded, you could do a lot to adults, but you didn't touch the kids.  It was bad for business, made things too personal.

     "When I find these . . . well, you can guess."

     "I believe I'd be willing to hold him down," Davis offered, "And provide the blowtorch and pliers."

     The man shuddered at that.  "My nephew is right, you're a nasty piece of work."

     "I'm a patriot, sir," Davis replied coolly, "I understand you are the same.  What we are facing, well, some of your more recent emigres know from first hand experience."

     The man nodded and dismissed them, glad he could be alone with his thoughts.  Castilogni's and his, he smiled at that.  Davis at least understood sometime, you had to go back to the Old Ways.  "Pliers and a blowtorch."  He shuddered at that.

     "Do you really believe you can enlist Castilogni as well?" ggreg asked.  He found Davis's control over Rivetti the elder a little too 'Deus ex Machina' for his piece of mind.

     "Shaman," Adam said, "You know what drives and pushes the family, then what manipulates the man."

     "Very good," Davis said, "Although I'm not a typical shaman."

     "How different?" Adam switched to Chinese.

     "I have an affinity for dragons, their minds, their spirits.  Messrs. Rivetti and Castilogni are like them, a veneer of manners and sophistication over the brute power, cunning, greed and viciousness of an animal."

     "Any luck in summoning a dragon?" ggreg joked.

     "Only if you have a squadron of fighter-bombers or a battalion of tanks handy.  They're notoriously hard to get rid of.  Also due to the current, outright ban on private gold ownership, I doubt anywhere short of Fort Knox would be a suitable nesting site."

     ggreg kept silent as they walked to the next house, he noticed the few guards that watched, mostly they watched other guards.  He was sure he could have penetrated the pitiful defenses and taken anything he wished, from flowers to silver, he felt slightly unclean dealing with these people.

     He smirked, At least I'm not having to deal with the Irish gangsters, he thought of the rumrunner who'd briefly been the American Ambassador to the Court of St. James.  He wondered who he'd bribed with his money to buy that kind of respectability, Not that it did him any good, ggreg reminded himself that the man and his pro-Nazi comments had probably mortified his patron.

     The Castilogni's were also a camp preparing for war, as the Rivetti's had been.  He was shocked that Davis also knew someone here, and was able to talk his way, without complaint, into an escort into the presence and a look at the holy of holies.

     Dragon indeed, ggreg thought it was a good analogy, the man had the superior attitude and the serpentine charm.  In the magpie's collection of Chinese artifacts were two small tablets, each with a very familiar carving.

     "Is this what I think it is?" ggreg asked quietly.

     Adam nodded slightly.  ggreg hadn't memorized the pattern , but the pair of tablets displayed the same runes facing each other on one, and opposed on the other, like p and q or E and 3 for one, and 9 and 6 for the other.  He didn't know exactly what they signified, but reminded him of twins, identical and fraternal.  He suspected that the enemy would strike here as well, once the defenders had been thinned a bit.  Accomplishing this by deploying for combat or by casualties, depending on how patient their enemy was.  If the cultists were running the show, they could be extremely impatient, the beasties could be terribly patient.

     The trio took their leave in the early evening.

     "Why didn't the creature just walk in and take them?" Davis asked, the very question that had been bothering ggreg, "The security was not adequate to protect something so dangerous."

     Adam shook his head.  "There is no answer, they might not know, it may not be the correct rune, there may be some barrier we aren't aware of."

     "You're guessing, old man," ggreg commented dryly.

     "Also important," Adam said, "Where can we get an early supper, it's past tea time, but the Crown will forgive me."

     With the sunlight fading into twilight, they hadn't gotten any closer to the answers.  Jeff was eager to get back, he was tired and wanted to get some sleep before he delved into the Dreamlands.  He hadn't worked out what was really bothering Langley.  He had some guesses, but the hypotheses were almost too complicated for his conscious mind to solve.  His subconscious would probably give him the answers to both questions, if he could give it some time to work on it.

     The sudden disappearance of the other evening revelers alerted Jeff.  The autumn evenings were a favorite of the people after the long, hot summer.  He carried a walking stick, to disguise what it represented and after a horse kicked him.  As well as because it was the weapon of a savateur.

     The shadowy figures appeared out of the darkness around them.  One, much larger than the others, pushed to the front.  The huge man had a demonic mask over his face.

     Or it's not a mask, Jeff thought as he peered more closely, Or is it a man?  Jeff realized the `man` wasn't human, and might not even be alive.  Its presence wasn't human.

     Adam raised his hand while chanting.  A brilliant burst of light flared, erasing the shadows, and leaving them with only the largest `man`.  Captain ggreg drew a pistol and fired several shots into the man, who weathered them without a sound or reaction.

     Then he charged.

     Jeff took careful aim with his cane, as ggreg dodged out of the way.  Jeff fired.  The weapon looked like the death ray of the movie serials, a bar of blinding white light, striking the man full in the face.  The man staggered back, seemingly with no ill effects, then looked around and ran off.

     "A dragon's breath round," ggreg said as he looked up, "Damned unsporting."

     "There was no magic, and no hint of a dragon," Adam commented, "You have dragons on the brain."

     "Thermite and white phosphorus," Jeff explained, "It bursts into flame on contact with air, a poor man's flamethrower."

     "Shouldn't it have done more than blinded him?" ggreg asked.

     "If he were flesh of any kind, he should have burned.  Thermite can be used for welding, that's nearly 3000 degrees," Jeff replied.

     "If we go up against that . . . creature," ggreg said, "What would make my day is a more powerful handgun.  One for hunting rogue Packards."

     "Might as well wish for a bazooka, or a tank," Jeff replied, "I think that's enough fun for one day, I'm heading back to Harvard, can I escort your two to your lodgings?"

     "No, thank you," Adam said, "We've still got some work to do."

     Jeff walked alone through the campus, he didn't like to think about why the enemy was getting so bold, but they hadn't broken the wards around the dorm, so he continued on up.  The sergeant was out, Jeff could get to work.

     The trance came almost as soon as he sat down.  The spirit realm looked as it always did, gray clouds and nothing that even an experienced shaman could really clearly discern.  The drumming he did, drew two spirits who regularly served him.  One was an urchin who froze to death in early Victorian London, but still enjoyed spying on the living, it was little different from the life lived of peering in on places she couldn't go.  The other was something vastly older, a piece of something much greater.  It retained no set form, moving between complex geometric shapes, it easily matched the urchin in enthusiasm, although its reports required some knowledge of cultural anthropology, to translate what it saw into human concepts.  It often saw things humans would edit out.

     "Guv'ner," she, the urchin, said, he strongly suspected she was a she, but no force would make her admit it, the fate of a pretty, young, girl street urchin on the streets of Victorian London was obvious to her.  And still scarred her afterlife.

     The Monolith, it responded to that name, although it claimed not to need one, rumbled an English greeting.  Jeff gestured, bringing the seeming of Lucia to them.  The pair drew near.

     "She was stolen from her family," he said quietly, "I want her found, so we can return her to them."

     The intensity of the gazes frightened him for a moment, he was still glad these two in particular had answered his call.

     "How old?" the urchin stared, as if trying to absorb the essence of the lost girl through her eyes.

     "Less than two years," Jeff said, "The ones that took her want to steal something from the parents."  That got the urchin's back up, she scowled with affronted professional pride, he inflamed it.  "A burglar with his wits could walk in and walk out with it."  He left out he saw no need for the kidnaping, the clumsy tactics and the illogic of the action would incense the urchin and Monolith respectively.  He knew that helplessness, an inability to do anything meaningful, haunted and motivated both.

     "They blamed another family, if you can find them, you can save many lives from being needlessly wasted."

     That got them, Jeff thought as he saw the intensity of the gazes directed at him increase.

     "Why aren't we free to go?" the urchin asked angrily.

     "There is some danger, I want you two to scout, not fight.  I have attackers."

     "But Guv'ner -!"

     "Can you carry the child out?" Jeff asked coldly.  The urchin frowned.  He leaned close, he'd learned not to touch her, or try.  "Your word."

     "Guv'ner!" the aggrieved innocence would have drowned them in the 'Real' World.

     "All right, I'll accept that."  Jeff gave up, aware of the important thing, you had to abandon points to make the urchin feel she'd forced something on you.  All the mind games and negotiation were part of being a shaman.  Learning where to stand, where to give up, phrasing things in a particular way to bring about a certain set of behaviors, sometimes from creatures much more powerful than he.  He'd found he could apply those lessons to the 'Real' World.  He released them to their mission, content that the mission itself would be adequate `payment` and both would be offended if he offered more.  He still had sleep, and his mission in the Dreamlands tonight.

If I Love You, What Business Is It Of Yours?       Back to Index

If I Love You, What Business Is It Of Yours?

     The crunch of scree under their boots made sneaking impossible, they led the horses forward.  Jeff considered Langley's worry.

     "We might not have enough resources if the creature is more powerful than we expected."

     "Langley, we've got enough resources to swamp anything except El Nureenen himself."

     The pair crested the hill and looked down on the entrance.

     "We could have searched for years and not seen it," Langley commented.

     "That's what maps are for."

     "Has anyone told you how arrogant and self-satisfied you are?" Langley asked, frowning.

     "This week, I don't believe so," he replied, "You're just mad I bailed you out."

     "I keep wondering when I'll get to return the favor," Langley said.

     "I don't like sticking my neck out like you do.  But that's not what's bothering you, come on, give."

     "Are you that naive?  The Poles of Warsaw rose up.  Well the Russians halted their advance and the British and Americans didn't fly in support, not troops or food or ammunition, so we defeated them and then we leveled the city.  Any of the Allies could have helped them.  But the Russians wanted the Poles crushed, and you don't want to offend them.  You probably won't want to offend them when they annihilate every German, knock down our towns and cathedrals, and erase Germany from the face of the map.  The western border of Russia will be the Bay of Biscay and whatever little enclaves the other Allied armies are able to hold, and you still have the Japanese to deal with.  I know what a fanatical defense means.  Stalingrad consumed armies, each Japanese city will consume how many American armies?  Then there'll be nobody left to stop the Communists.  Stalin was massacring Ukrainians and no one cared, do you think anyone will care if he slaughters Poles or Germans?  The civilized nations should have banded together to fight the Bolsheviks.  Patton saw it."

     "Patton is also a political waif.  There are a lot of sympathizers in the Allied governments.  I like Karl Marx, his humor's more sophisticated than Groucho's, too bad people take him seriously.  I never have figured out how anyone assumes that you can get coherent ideology out of a man half-crazed by his boils.  Besides - "

     "I don't need a lecture!" Langley said crossly, "I've read the original myself.  I may not be a History Major, but I know what it says.  Fighting the Russians will chew up too many troops you'll need to put down Japan.  Unless you've got some magic wand to wave that will convince them to surrender."

     "Not that I know of," Jeff admitted, "The invasion of each island will be worse than D-Day.  The Russians will take Korea and Manchuria as well, giving them the warm water ports they've been after for so long.  Manila will be bad enough, Saipan was a nightmare.  I don't want to think about reducing each island, if not each city.  You may be right, there may be nothing to stop them, or at least no one will do it by war."

     "Now you see why I'm worried?  The only place to escape will be in dreams.  Churchill talked about a science-supported Dark Age, that's what we're looking at."

     "I promised I'd get you out, and I will."

     "It's a nice sentiment, but not even you could pull that off," Langley said quietly.

     The Meliorist couched her lance and checked that her saber-halberd was secure, then looked over the knights with their long lances.  The snort of the horses and the jingle of the tack was the only sound, but it seemed loud enough.  The dismounted horse archers had moved into position with far less noise.

     The irritating chemical smoke from the canisters was drawn into the cave opening.  One of the ole' S-Dragon's nasty tricks.  The Meliorist had smelled it, nothing with a nose would not want to escape.  The roar from within the cavern announced that the guardian had a nose, and a bad attitude.  The long, almost wolflike snout came first.  Then the two limbs dragging the creature rapidly forward on its belly, not raising up much of the long sinuous body that crawled out of the noxious smoke.

     It immediately started sprouting arrows and crossbow bolts, attacks alternated between both sides.  It roared at one side, then the other.

     The Meliorist couldn't admire the brute, the slug-like belly and the stupidity prevented any respect.  This was just something to be killed.  She nodded to the bugler who sounded 'Charge', the ole' S-Dragon might favor bagpipes, Asuka thought the Geneva Convention should ban them.

     The creature was too occupied by the arrows, still volley firing, alternating between sides, so it ignored the horsemen.  While most of them failed to bite in its flesh, bouncing instead off it's scaled back, a few stuck in the softer underbelly, and some stuck in gaps in the scaly armor.  The Meliorist aimed for one such point where the arrows had found a gap in the border between the scales and the softer skin.  The creature became aware of the real danger and lunged at the knights, the Meliorist rode in front and was the creature's intended target.  She accepted that, adjusted her approach so her lance would pierce the thing's vitals and splinter within.  She felt the shock of impact and drove the lance in deep, before it sheared off from the force.  She rode past, unclipping the sabre-halberd and wheeled her horse to close with the creature again.  She saw that the other lancers had gone in with mixed success.  Nevertheless, the creature writhed and shuddered as its blood poured out and sizzled on the stone.  Asuka ordered the horseman to fall back, the writhing of a wounded wyrm was not a safe place for knight or horse.

     The creature continued to roar and scream at the gnats that still stung at it.  Only aimed fire now, making the attacks with precision, striking at the creature's belly and other weak points.  She knew that many of the knights would want to 'prove their worth' by charging it again with couched lances.  They had lost one knight and four horses, there were wounded, but none seriously.  They had filled the thing's belly with wood splinters from their lances, this methodical, grinding method of fighting and killing saved lives, although it wasn't `honorable`.  She agreed that the most honorable thing was to go home with as many people to celebrate the victory as possible.

     With the creature finally stilled, the Meliorist had finally had enough, and ordered another charge, the arrow fire had stopped.  This too wasn't war, it was mercy, she herself put the thing out of its misery.

     "You expected I couldn't wait," the Meliorist accused her friends as they walked across the field of stone.  The other knights and lancers dismounted to follow them.

     "I suspected," the Scholarly Dragon replied, his attitude and expression clearly indicating how he'd gotten his nickname.  He adjusted the long spear pole on his shoulder, it was about 3-meters long, the 'ten-foot-pole I wouldn't touch you with'.  The Meliorist wasn't going to fall for that joke, again.

     "Has anyone told you that you are insufferable?" the Meliorist asked.

     "Someone did, actually, right before I sent her off on a wild goose chase."  He signaled a halt and tapped the entryway of the dragon's hall with the pole.  Something growled and tore the pole from his hands.  For several moments they heard the sounds of many things consuming the pole, and possibly a few of each other.

     "I always was afraid of vegetarians," Anna commented as she approached.

     "Are you really sure you want what's in there?" the ole' S-Dragon asked.

     Asuka frowned and waited while the S-Dragon consulted with the other mages they had brought with them.

     "You want to just charge in there?" Anna asked, her smile faded as Asuka glared.  Asuka was not happy about the delay, she didn't want to appear too impatient.  The S-Dragon returned with a small wicker basket of mice.

     "Do I even want to know?" Anna asked.

     "Probably not," the Scholarly Dragon tossed the basket into the cavern.  There was the sound of chopping/grinding, then shrieks, then silence.

     "Wait!" Asuka told the others as they got up to march in.  They waited in silence a little while longer, then the Scholarly Dragon tossed in a rock, once the echoes of rock on stone died away, only silence answered them.

     "I think now it's safe to go in," he said.

     "Are you sure?" Asuka asked in a quavering voice, eliciting a laugh from the other two.

     "Stay behind me," the ole' S-Dragon warned, "There are a lot of other traps, or should be.  And you, Honorable Knight of Celephais, haven't been listening to the thieves and criminals I have provided for broadening your education."

     "I know about traps."

     "You know about grifters' tricks, not tomb builder traps," the ole' S-Dragon replied sternly.

     "Okay, fine, okay," Anna soothed, "Message received and understood.  You're the expert on deadly architecture."

     "What are they going to do?" Asuka muttered, "Fill the walls with poison dart throwers, have great big balls of rock to roll down on us?"

     "Exactly, you have been studying, I take it back," he replied as he entered carefully, stepping painstakingly across the floor.

     "Why do we put up with him?" Asuka asked, "Why do I put up with him?"  Asuka glared at him as she waited for the okay to enter.

     "I haven't figured out why you haven't married him," Anna commented.

     Asuka turned back to her friend, considered a double homicide

     "He'd be worse if he were a real dragon," Anna offered as she began walking in his footsteps.

     Asuka grumbled as she began picking her way across the floor after her `friends`, she waved for the knights not to follow.

     A tightly cowled figure watched the proceedings with interest.  The red eyes caught the sunlight for a moment.  The taciturn young woman had been accepted around the camp because she arrived with fresh game at lunch and dinner, and seemed only to want her weapons looked after, three meals and a bed within the perimeter.

     The Red Dragons were full of eccentrics, having a source of fresh meat who only wanted to eat vegetables wasn't that far from the standard.  They also knew her from the siege of El Nureenen's Fortress, and the pattern was the same, basic support for fresh meat.

     The death of the guardian wyrm was unexpected.  She'd wanted to follow them inside, except it was too dangerous.  The knights would never allow it, nor would she want to gain the attention of the higher-ups.  They'd notice the hair-dye, and discover her true hair color, and that would raise too many questions.

     She wasn't sure what they'd find within, there were rumors she'd overheard about the papers the Scholarly Dragon had brought with him.  None of the rumors seemed creditable, or even reasonable.  But if they were true, even partially, the war against El Nureenen would be over, and the Commander would have to be informed.  Such a creature would be a powerful asset.  Personally, she did not want to see the Meliorist hurt.  She believed she could protect her better close than at the distance she had to maintain to avoid detection as a spy.

     "All we need are snakes and spooky music," Anna commented as she looked around the room inside the mountain, "That would make a terrific movie about archeology!  From Hollywood: Brave Americans fighting the Nazis; or a brave German team facing the decadent, unholy alliance of plutocrats and bolsheviks."

     "Who'd pay to see people digging with trowels and brushes for months on end for bits of pottery?" the ole' S-Dragon asked.

     "You have no romance," Anna replied, then shouted, "That's why the Meliorist won't marry you."  She smiled at the reaction from both of them, the revulsion mirrored on the two faces.

     They'd laid bridges over the minefield floor, jammed the swinging spiked logs, and done a few mystical things here and there.  Anna could see how pleased Asuka was with the progress, engineering overcoming ancient sorcery.  The advanced groups had discovered the 'holy of holies'.  The Scholarly Dragon was sitting in front of the chamber, the man was garbed as a full wizard of the Camilenn Order, the staff of a Council member in his hands.  There was something alien about him when he was in full wizard uniform.  She, and Asuka, the Meliorist, were much more comfortable when he was wearing armor and a sword, or standing back as a general of his army.  But every so often something brought it back to her.  That her friend dabbled in things that for all their knowledge, the few spells she and Asuka had mastered, was completely beyond their understanding, either how or why.  'Cold Iron was master of them all' the S-Dragon's favorite poet wrote.  Yet in full regalia with the dignity of his office, he changed into something else, not just someone else.

     Most wizards tended to go mad or at least become eccentric, even the most benign spells seemed to run this risk, healing being the least dangerous.  The Camilenn's seemed the most immune, but even they had the occasional spectacular failure.  However, they and the Theodregi generally put down such aberrations, unlike the rest of the orders.

     So he sat before the door, dabbler in odd, mind-ripping powers, ready to act against threats to humanity, even himself.  It gave Anna some chills that wizards and their dragon allies could be so like the questing knights, yet so unlike them.

     The door to the chamber rumbled back into its slot.  The grinding of stone on stone brought everyone's attention back to the moment.  The tension began building among those who waited, would something come leaping out, was some dread curse to visit itself on the defilers?

     The ole' S-Dragon sneezed, loudly, making everyone jump, but the tension was broken.  "There are no further traps or spells here," he told those who waited, "That really worries me, all the rest of the complex seemed aimed at keeping people out of here.  This section looks more like it was aimed at keeping people in."  That didn't sit well with any of the others.

The Spirits That I Summoned Up, I Now Can't Rid Myself Of       Back to Index

The Spirits That I Summoned Up, I Now Can't Rid Myself Of

     Jeff woke suddenly, he was not back at Harvard.  He glanced at the spirits who had returned and awakened him, the urchin and the Monolith.  Their mission had seriously agitated both, they had enough force to wake him and draw him into the Spirit World.

     "We found her!" the urchin exclaimed.

     "There are protective walls, wards, many things," the Monolith added, to the urchin's irritation.

     "We can't get in, but we coulds hear and feel her."

     "I'll need to assemble the forces," Jeff told them, "I'll check back for details when I have an idea of the force I can field.  Good work."  They preened and released him back to sleep, despite their desperate need to move and move now.

     Jeff opened his eyes and looked around.  Now he was in his dorm room.  Sergeant Malkowitz was asleep.  It was early, and he had a lot of work to do.  Breakfast and a shower would let him plan.  Soldiers from the Castilogni and Rivetti families weren't the same as combat soldiers or police, perhaps they could arrange for real soldiers, combat troops.

     Maybe Captain ggreg has some, he thought as he considered the options available to him.  Shower, he reminded himself as he finished waking up.

     "You have got to be kidding!"

     It's too early for this, Jeff thought as he sat in the cafeteria with his two factors, Rivetti and Castilogni.

     "Mister Rivetti," Jeff explained for the third time, "Whoever did this wanted your two families to fight, if we can hit them quickly, we can get your cousin back and teach them a lesson."

     "You want me to tell my uncle that he's to weaken the guards around the house while he teams up with his enemy -?"  Rivetti turned to Castilogni.  "No offense."

     "None taken, I would have said the same," Castilogni said, "The question is to you, Boss."

     "You have it exactly, both of you."

     The two young men, glanced at the boy, at each other, all the while their mouths hanging open.

     "You, sir - " Rivetti began.

     "Are out of your mind!" Castilogni finished.

     "Gentlemen," Jeff asked, "Is that a yes or a no?"

     Rivetti shook his head.  "I'll ask, and I'll get tossed out of the family."

     "You're tough enough." Jenny arrived at the table, the three Harvard men stood, she waved them back down as she took a seat between Jeff and Rivetti. "There could be a spot on the ranch for you."

     "Horses and cattle," Castilogni said, "I'll stay in Boston."

     "Plotting and planning to venture into the darkness?" Jenny asked in Gaelic, "Black Eagle would be proud."  She switched back to English.  "Sorry, gentlemen, Clan business."

     "You're going to commit a hundred Highlanders?" Rivetti asked.

     "We're from the Lowlands," Jenny replied.

     "So, the Clans will march?" Castilogni joked.

     "I'm afraid I can't go," Jenny said, patted Rivetti's hand, "I'm afraid he worries so."

     "About the opposition, I pity them," Jeff retorted.

     Jenny's reply was interrupted by Captain ggreg's arrival.  "I understand you're laying on a rescue," Captain ggreg said quietly.

     "I located the young lady," Jeff said as Jenny excused herself and left.  "Can you add much to our forces?" Jeff asked.

     "British soldiers on American soil?" ggreg considered, "Quite an incident."

     "Training?" Jeff offered, "Youthful high spirits.  I can't exactly whistle up a regiment of American troops."

     "Where would we be heading?" ggreg asked.

     We, Jeff noted.

     "Into the sewers," Jeff told them.  He noted the grimace on Rivetti and Castilogni, the look of determination on ggreg.

     The helmets had lights, they were electrical rather than the old-style, carbide lights.  The men were clearly not comfortable with each other.  He hadn't known how Sharon and Jason had found out, or how they'd arranged for the U.S. Army troops or the equipment for the others.  In total, nearly two complete rifle companies were descending into the storm sewers.  The chance of a methane explosion was less than in the sanitary sewers, but it still worried Jeff, as well as Sharon and Jason attaching themselves to his `group`.

     All I am is the navigator.  I was hoping for a small commando force, not the Normandy invasion, he thought as they walked along.  The noise of all the feet and whispered conversations echoing and reechoing.  None of it helped his disquiet about being packed into tight tunnels with people jostling his elbows.  He wanted to scream and run away, just do the job himself.

     "So what happens when we get there?"

     Jeff stared at the Major's oak leaves on the soldier's collar.  Why are you asking me? he silently asked the Major and the two senior `soldiers` of the Castilogni and Rivetti contingents, the British sergeant and his men were with the rearguard along with Captain ggreg.  Jeff didn't know where Adam was.

     "Get the kid, kill everybody else," he replied.

     And that satisfies you? he wondered about that, A twelve-year-old, you're letting a 12-year-old give you orders? he wondered how badly the world had spun off its axes.  Maybe someone else would think 'Hey neat I'm in charge!'  But I know from dreams that such commands mean casualties and this one looks like it might prove to be a disaster if it isn't handled properly.  He didn't want the responsibility.

     The change from concrete beneath them didn't bode well.  Jeff hoped it was a minor problem, but the chamber widened out, this chamber wasn't on the map and Jeff had suspicions that this wasn't part of the original design.

     "Hey," someone commented, and it echoed around the chamber, "We're walking on bones."  Having stated the obvious and drawn attention to their presence, the individual fell silent.  Jeff kept walking, hoping, praying they'd pass through quickly.

     The murmurs grew more worried and distracting.  "Yes, we're walking across bone," he said quietly, "The concrete is about 50 feet beneath us."

     It was like dropping a stone in a pond, the ripples of silence fanned out as the others considered the implication, how many people it would take to fill a pit like this, how long, why no one noticed the losses.  Jeff was just glad of the silence and that they were taking things more seriously.  He already knew the answers, and he didn't want the people speculating about what might do this, let them think it was humans or some slavering monster.  But do it silently.  What they were facing was as vulnerable to bullets as humans.  The urchin and the Monolith had given him a very thorough force rundown and deployment.

     The maps showed the T-junction, both led to the secured area.  The various leaders were called together and they reviewed the maps Jeff had handed out at the beginning.  The maps labeled the guard posts and the various cross points and possible ambush points, and the location of the girl.  The odd sensing system he'd learned from his `tutors` easily verified that they had not moved her, it also filled him with the impression of having immersed himself in the muck of a sanitary sewer.  What waited for them was incredibly foul.  The runes he'd carved would hopefully put paid to that monster, or at least allow them to escape.  A second try with heavier weapons and more troops could be mounted later.

     "Okay, here we split up," the Major ordered.  One set of maps had a route marked in red, the other had a route marked in blue.  Those 'Blues' charging straight in would act as a diversion for the 'Red' rescue force.  Both would retreat after their primary objective had been achieved.  The noisome stench of the many ghouls was becoming noticeable over the other fragrances that permeated the place.

     The soldiers didn't need any orders, they had effectively cut him out of the last minute planning, which was fine with Jeff, he had other fish to fry in the caverns, and a two pronged assault would allow him enough distractions to carry them out.

     The teams broke off.  Jeff, to his disgust, had Sharon and Jason tagging along with him.  He knew he couldn't protect them if things became difficult, he hoped they had the good sense to run if it came to that.

     The screams and gunfire from the 'rescue' group reminded him that no plan survived contact with reality.  The diversion group charged.  The screams took on an increasingly inhuman note as the ghouls came under direct fire from the second group of light-wearing attackers.  Fighting in the sewers was a nightmare, muzzle flashes marked the scene in sharp lines, the sound echoed madly, deafeningly.  Shouts and cries could be heard in all directions and in all tones from orders to pleas to cries of fear, rage and panic.  The ghouls, hideous as they were, saved themselves by being cowards.  The places they fled through were not ones a human would fit, nor would be willing to go.

     One thing that worried him during all the planning, the figures he'd seen on the platter that supported Rivetti's jade dragon statue, he, the Meliorist, and Anna had encountered runes that appeared just the same in the crypt they had entered in the Dreamlands.  Coincidence was all too often enemy action.  Jeff had the awful feeling they were luring him in, but in the Dreamlands or here in the Waking World, he didn't know.

     A huge ghoul leapt out of the darkness.  Jeff fired.  Again, a bar of brilliant light connected the tip of his cane with his target.  The creature ran off shrieking.  Jeff ignored Sharon's horrified reaction as he broke open the action and replaced the shell.

     "What in God's Name was that?!" Sharon demanded.

     "A guard."  Jeff closed the weapon and restarted his advance.

     "No, what you used," she stammered.

     "Something I made, you think they'd sell shotgun shells to a 12-year-old?"  What he was seeking seemed to be calling him.  He noticed the odd expression on both Sharon's and Jason's faces.  He found it hard to believe that they could sense it.  Maybe there is something to that organization they're trying to get me to join, he thought.  He wasn't much of a joiner, he found himself manipulating people to get them to do what he wanted.  So far no one really objected, he didn't know if they'd noticed and let it pass, or if they knew and didn't mind.  His lack of self-control in that area irritated him.  His musings nearly caused him to miss the approach of the man.  It looked like a distorted version of Janus the Roman god, a man with two faces, in this case one on the right and the left of his head.  The left face was twisted into a parody of the mask of comedy, the right into a parody of the mask of tragedy.  Parody because they were rotted and diseased, like wax beginning to run and flesh decomposing and reforming, giving the faces a crawling appearance as the flesh parted and slithered back together.

     Jeff vaguely heard someone close to him scream, and someone, possibly the same person, tugging at his sleeve.  The two runes he had made riveted his attention, one in each pocket as he reached for them.  With them firmly clamped in his hands, he advanced.  The creature hadn't regarded him directly, now that changed, somehow it sensed its peril, it raised its voice in a spell as it drew back.

     Jeff knew he was sprinting towards the creature, even though the distance seemed to be shrinking so slowly.  But the creature was not withdrawing fast enough, even as he slowed.

     Suddenly, it was in reach, his hands approached the creature with glacial deliberateness, he silently urged them on, trying to target the creature as it flowed away.  Jeff slapped one rune on each of its rotting foreheads.  Both mouths screamed as time snapped back to normal.

     He heard Sharon yelling to him, "Okay you got him, let's get out of here!"

     He stumbled alongside her, the best he could manage was a shambling run, his limbs didn't seem to be working.  Sharon would stop and urge him forward, but his body was moving slower and slower, he knew this was no spell, or he could have countered it.  It was the nature of the place, the 'Twins' had somehow influenced it.  Now he'd wounded it, so the laws of physics were different, constantly changing.

     Jeff caught a glimpse of the demon-faced man charging towards him, he couldn't twist or jump out of the way, he could only go limp as the mass piled into him.  A brief flight and blackness claimed him.

     "I recognize this," the Scholarly Dragon told Asuka, indicating the disc that surrounded the black opaque gem that sat in the middle of the circular altar.  There was nothing else in the entire huge chamber, the stone work looked as if it was all of one piece.  "It's a pattern, I was researching runes for controlling Dragon Kings.  These were the runes."

     "So it's a Dragon King?" Asuka asked, a faint worm of uncertainty began undercutting her resolve.  "But the weapon is here, isn't it?"

     "Your records and ours say the weapon is here, but what kind of description do you have?  There were no descriptions in the mages' archives," the Scholarly Dragon admitted.

     The chagrined look on her friend's face did not reassure Asuka.  "We can stop or we can go," Asuka offered.

     "No we can't," Anna gasped, "The gem is sinking."  She glanced around.  "And we're rotating, very slowly, but we're moving."

     "Run?" the S-Dragon asked.

     Asuka answered by grabbing Anna's arm and sprinting towards the exit.  She made no comment about self-confessed `experts`, she saved her breath for running.  She kept expecting the door to grind shut, trapping them inside, when it didn't, she began worrying.  If they had released something rather than triggering a trap then -

     "FREE!" a cry of rage and joy, rather than a word, rang through the chamber as she and Anna reached the door.  A glowing bar in the bottom slot braced the door open.  She could hear the stone straining to close.  The knights had assembled at the doorway.  As soon as Anna and she were through, the glowing bar vanished and the door slammed shut, even the muscles of her faithful werewolves couldn't slow that inexorable slide.  Her last glimpse of her friend was the huge black cloud coiling around him like a python, and that fool standing there gesturing in the middle of it, as if his magics gave him a chance against that huge monster.

     Maybe with Unit 02, Asuka thought as she scratched idly at the heavy stone.

     "We need to get ready," Asuka said remotely, "He won't be able to hold that thing forever."

     "Asuka, he might win," Anna said hopefully.

     Asuka didn't know how she knew how powerful that thing was.  The old texts had told of all the power of the Daimorigon, she knew that cloud was the creature, the weapon they sought, that she had sought.

     "Let's go."  She submerged all her feelings.  If he survived, she would rejoice, but he'd made his decision to sacrifice himself to save them, to waste his final gift would be a final betrayal.

     They scrambled back over the bridges towards the entrance.  Asuka only felt empty.  If the reports were accurate, they hadn't even a fraction of the power necessary to combat it.  She only hoped she could lead it - to El Nureenen - and hope the two would destroy each other.

     Rei noted the scramble to break camp and get everything packed.  The knights were quick to send out a heavy patrol towards the cavern while the others, the unmounted troops, broke camp.  She had seen the red-auburn hair, heard the sharp, confident commands, but not the graying brown and the more fatherly tones.  She couldn't imagine they'd had a falling out, and she doubted that they had succeeded so quickly.

     If they had, shouldn't they be celebrating? she wondered.  Then the earthquake struck.  The earth seemed to be shaking itself apart.  Stones tumbled from the heights and dust rose from the ground.  Rei merely held on, she had the oddest feeling that someone or something was screaming with rage within the earthquake.

     She knew that was ridiculous, but the impression remained.  Then it was over.  She peered down at the camp, the senior sergeants and officers commanded that the troops should continue working.  The work began immediately only to be interrupted by another earthquake, stronger than the last.  The impression that something was screaming now was inescapable, the tone was too low to differentiate it from the sound of tortured stone.  The shaking went on much longer, heavy stone now blocked the cavern entrance.

     Rei was at the top of the ridge, she didn't have to worry about rocks from above.  But the rising dust choked her, she covered her mouth and nose with her cloak.  She wondered why the world had suddenly gone mad.

     The Daimorigon raged around the chamber that again held it, still held it.  It could batter its way out, eventually.  What it raged about was the gnat buzzing about in its head.  It had consumed the body as the gnat deigned to hold it and prevent its escape.  Instead of dying, now the gnat raged through its mind and spirit like a virulent poison, stinging it in a dozen, in a hundred places.

     "I will get you!" it raged, lashing around with the force of its mind even as its body smashed against the stone meant to hold it.  Even then the gnat dodged and buzzed and stung.  The gnat's words of defeat and insult stung almost as much as the poisons themselves.

     The Daimorigon brought its full mind and spirit into play, closing in from all directions.  If felt the spirit of the gnat crushed, smashed into thousands of shreds.  "NO!" the Daimorigon screamed, it had not crushed the gnat, it had forced the tiny slivers of the gnat deep into itself.  "This is impossible!  No creature can survive being consumed!" it bellowed in rage, "They gibber in fear and disintegrate."  It had done this hundreds of times, it was automatic, but not now.  The whisper 'You are what you eat,' echoed through its mind, the gnat seemed impervious to that fear.  The Daimorigon began to fear, a gnawing, little thing but growing.  It had tried to shape its bipedal form, and this thing had stung it so, it made the effort impossible.  Impossible, the sting of a gnat at the exactly wrong place at exactly the wrong time had made it disembodied again.  Now it drew away from the gnat, it could feel the venom coursing through itself, it could feel the thousands of trivial wounds the gnat delivered still bleeding.  It saw with satisfaction that the gnat was bloodied as well, not immune to the battering it had delivered.

     "You're dying," it said with satisfaction.

     "I'm dead," the gnat replied, "In the Waking World, a foe has stabbed me to the heart, my life's-blood flows as a sacrifice to a Dragon King."

     The Daimorigon's eyes narrowed at that, but it kept silent, Let it talk while I heal and cleanse myself.

     "Then you'd kill me here.  I choose not to die alone."

     "I will change your mind," it insisted, "Slowly, painfully."

     "As you too bleed out your life's-blood?" the gnat asked with feigned courtesy, "As the joke goes, I don't need to outrun Death, I just have to outrun you."

     "Aren't you AFRAID of me?"  It lunged to punctuate its question.

     The gnat merely rolled out of the way, sat at the new spot, smiling that same enigmatic smile.

     "What is your name, gnat?"

     "Mortis Invictus."

     It narrowed its eyes.  "You name yourself Invincible Death?"

     The gnat chuckled at it in the same infuriatingly certain tone.  "Smith is a common enough name.  But I am for killing things like you.  My tricks are within you.  Can you not hear Death's footsteps approaching?"

     "Do you know what I am?!"  The Daimorigon raised itself up, draining all the faint light from this place, making the darkness and every shadow its own.

     Jeff looked up at the creature as it reared up.  As terrible as it thought itself, he knew the wounds he'd inflicted, felt the cobwebs he'd spun as they grew stronger by the moment.  Soon he would have it.  It would never escape this place, this place within its own mind.  Not now, not in a thousand lifetimes.

     "I AM THE DAIMORIGON!!" it thundered, "All that you worms of humans fear about dragons, I AM!  Your qualms are a prayer, your terror a psalm, all in worship to me."  The creature's voice shook the walls of its spirit realm where they dueled.

     "If you're of humans, then I'll take you to bits, keep what I need and cast the rest away."

     Idiot, he thought, I'm dying, and you're trying to frighten me?

     The creature struck, but halted before the blow fell.  "No, you tricked me once."  It drew back, snakelike.  "You shan't fool me again."  It settled back into a pile.  "Your venoms are sharp, but not enough, I've been poisoned before"

     "Not by a servant of Yig I'd wager."

     "You lie!" the Daimorigon hissed, as Jeff wove more of the spell potential into filaments.  As it sought time to heal, the trap grew stronger, the nets he wove would soon be unbreakable.  Its spirit, the spirit of dragon fear and hatred, and he had long experience in dealing with spirits: negotiating, ego-stroking, threats, whatever was necessary.  He knew it was fragmenting, and it didn't realize it's impending doom.

     He'd used its own aggression against it.  Already he was summoning a spirit of Anger.  He didn't think a calm riddling game would tire the creature out.  He had a plan, it was risky, but it would result in the creature never being a threat to Langley and her troopers, maybe to no one ever again.  Failing that, he would trap it here forever.

     He released the spirit of Anger he'd summoned and sent it into the thousands of tiny fissures he'd already bored into the Daimorigon with its own help.  He watched its eyes widen and blaze as he ran to a more secure place.  The infuriated roaring shook the seeming cavern, returning it to the stuff of the spirit realm, and Jeff prepared for the next part of the battle.

I Love Those Who Yearn For The Impossible       Back to Index

I Love Those Who Yearn For The Impossible

     Asuka was in the rearguard, Anna was with the vanguard, both were urging the others forward.  Asuka kept hoping the Scholarly Dragon would somehow escape, or if he could hold that inky black cloud until they could get onto the flats.  There they might have a chance.  The knights had already unshipped their long lances, 5.5 to 6 meters, and the last decimeters would shatter and splinter after impact like a grenade inside the target, the same weapons they'd killed the wyrm with.  She had doubts about the effectiveness against a cloud.  Her sabre-halberd would provide a more effective weapon, she could feel the odd eagerness for the battle that seemed to emanate from the weapon.  She dismissed the thought.  There were many superstitions about the 'Meliorist's blade', that trapped within was an angel, or a demon, or a long-dead dragon.  She hadn't the faintest idea how the Scholarly Dragon had made it, but it served.

     The shaking had ceased, making travel down the winding hill trails easier, but the speed was not sufficient.

     Nothing will ever be enough, she thought as she ruthlessly crushed the image in her mind, the spells flashing from his hands as the door rumbled shut, and the flower of knighthood just standing there - helpless.  What good is Chivalry and a sword if it cannot save a friend?  She was having a harder time forcing those thoughts back.  She remembered the death of Samuel, Jeff's brother, and the hurt she'd felt seeing a friend in that kind of pain.  The death of her mother had hurt too, the death of her mother's mind and spirit hurt worse than the subsequent death of her body, that had been a release.  Mommy was gone, now everyone knew, now everyone could see.  She suspected this would be the same, there would be endless speculation, he would escape a thousand different ways, but she knew no human could best that thing, no one would be walking out of that crypt.  She'd lured him to his death out of friendship, and out of friendship he'd accepted it.

     "And what does that make me?" she asked the cloudless sky, wondered if even the clouds had fled the coming battle.  She was not the stereotypical warrior, who believed that glory was an excuse for stupidity.  She knew they should withdraw, run away, but someone needed to engage whatever came out.  If only to be able to report what it was, to the next line of defense.  The forces surrounding El Nureenen's fortress would take days to return, there were other warriors, wizards and dragons in the Dreamlands, but would they be enough?

     The Daimorigon twisted and bit and spun against the walls of the prison.  Jeff stood outside looking in, the power of his death in the Waking World gave him the force necessary to construct this web that held it, he only needed to take the last step into oblivion, to abandon himself into the weaving and the creature would not escape its own mind for a million years.  So few understood the interrelationship of life, death and magic.

     "Hardly the best answer," the voice beside him said.

     Jeff turned and saw the elaborately robed man, a serpent man, maybe one of the atavisms, the throwbacks to their ancient power, or maybe one of the sleepers, those who saw the imminent collapse of their civilization and hibernated, for hundreds of millions of years.

     Jeff couldn't conceive of allowing dinosaurs to overthrow a thriving civilization, but had learned that it was a particularly sore point.  'You vicious hotbloods would have been very useful,' was about the politest response.

     "Losing such a creature, such FORCE . . . is a shame, you are seeking a weapon."

     "I'm afraid this one is uncontrollable," Jeff answered, it was obvious the creature was closely watching the Daimorigon batter itself into unconsciousness, while it wasn't enjoying the sight, it was amused by it.

     "A more appropriate control could be arranged, for a price."

     "What price?"

     Here's the hook, the bait isn't very attractive, Jeff thought.

     "Your allies lose eggs, young, and their lives to the depredations of the Elder Gods.  Their Utopia rests entirely on the backs of dragons.  I want them freed."

     "They will not serve you," Jeff reminded him, or her, "They're too much like their creators: willful, stubborn, ready to argue or fight over the most trivial details."

     "You act as if those are bad characteristics, respect is all I demand of my servants, acknowledgment."

     A chill stole over Jeff, he would theoretically meet up with such creatures, some of the spirits he worked for approached such things in power, but Black Eagle had been explicit about the difference between those spirits who thought they were gods, and those who really were, and it often came down to a certain prickliness, the former needed to prove it, the latter didn't want you to forget it.  He hadn't realized he'd summoned this Great Old One when he'd invoked its name aloud.  It was a careless mistake.  "I intended no affront."

     A hissing chuckle.  "Proof I deceive even you, when I choose."

     Gods and their little games.  But this changes everything, Jeff's mind was racing, He really does have the power to do it.

     "There's a trick to it of course," Jeff said warily.

     "A test," Yig corrected, "You will have to be stronger, cleverer . . . better.  The battle will decide.  Since two spirits cannot coexist in one body in harmony, there will be an amalgamation, as well as a revivification of your body in the Waking World."

     Jeff felt his throat dry up, Victory against El Nureenen, and return to life?

     "I sense a very big 'if', sir."

     More hissing chuckling.  "Propose an oath, I will determine if it is sufficient."

     "I will not worship you.  My apologies."

     "'No other gods before me', I have read the book, I am aware of a great deal more than you.  I desire a servant, not a worshiper," Yig said testily.

     Jeff watched the monster trapped within his web, and considered that he was preparing to walk into a similar trap, with open eyes, and hopefully different results.  But only if he picked the weave and the framework of the net very carefully.

     Rei watched the soldiers form their squadrons, ready their weapons.  She remained on foot with the baggage trains, she had no skill with horses.  A crossbow rested in her hands as she scanned the skies, a quiver of bolts at her waist, and a box of them at her feet.  A simple clawfoot mechanism for a crossbow that normally required a windlass.  She was an excellent shot, and she could easily hide herself in a spider hole, giving her good cover from the monster, whatever it was, when it appeared.

     She also waited to run if necessary.  If something came out that could threaten the Commander's vision, someone would have to watch events and report what had happened.  The loss of either or both of the German pilots would also be of concern, and she would have to report that as well.

     Adam caught up with ggreg on the retreat, "What happened?"

     "We were winning until that bloody man and the Twins showed up!" ggreg shouted over the sound of gunfire that echoed and reechoed through the sewers.  "The ghouls tried to rally, but we cut them to pieces.  I think the man we faced is pursuing our group, so the ones with the child are getting away."

     "You aren't carrying explosives," Adam asked.

     "I don't fancy setting off a charge down here," ggreg replied.  They'd reached the ladder exit, there was little pushing or crowding, but no one wanted to remain below.

     "What of our young friend?" Adam asked as the rearguard began withdrawing.

     "He slapped two tiles on that two-headed thing when that monster slammed into him, then the two-headed man stabbed him in the heart," Sharon told them as she passed them to get to the ladder.  The pair went up last to forestall any pursuit, there wasn't any.

     "What do you mean, young lady?" ggreg caught up with Sharon and Jason.

     "I mean I was standing there when it happened, I emptied a pistol into that thing.  A .38 revolver isn't the ultimate hand weapon, but people tend to go down when you shoot them six times in the head."

     "I'm afraid neither of our friend's `heavies` were vulnerable to gunfire," Adam explained, he turned to his friend, "Do we go back?"

     "With a tank?" ggreg asked, as he took deep breaths of cleaner air, "Unless we can take down his bodyguard, we can't attack him."

     "Antitank weapons?" Adam suggested.

     "In a sewer, not recommended," ggreg considered the problem of how to kill something immune to gunfire without extensive use of explosives.  The sewers of Boston simply weren't big enough for combat troops and vehicles in sufficient numbers to engage such a target.  He did suspect after the reports they made, someone would drop a fair amount of poison gas into those sewers, as if hydrogen sulfide and methane weren't enough.

     Jeff had never considered a spirit battle in this manner, it was like a duel between sea urchins or porcupines.  The cut and thrust of showers of spines versus the close in battle with their spines.  The spines were abstracts of the mind behind them.  A stronger mind made stronger spines, but the length, sharpness and 'throwability' of the spikes depended on other aspects he hadn't discovered yet.  He still took full advantage of it.

     Distances were irrelevant here, separation depended solely on the minds involved.  The quicker controlled the separations, the relative speeds of closure and separation.

     The challenge was to use your abilities to your best advantage.  The Daimorigon was stronger at body to body, Jeff retained better missile use, so he dove and raced in to shower his opponent with missiles, before racing out.  The creature's near-limitless rage gave it tremendous endurance, keeping at the hit-and-run attacks only fueled that rage, prolonging the contest, but closing to administer a coup de grace might be suicide at this point, playing to the enemy's strength.  The problem was he was tiring and his opponent only needed him to make one mistake.  The slow, steady wearing down he'd applied had almost equalized their strengths.

     So now is the time, give it the mistake its looking for while I can take advantage of its reaction, he thought as he dove in, spiraling in to confuse his opponent who fired a few barbs out of sheer impotent anger, Jeff was shocked that it wasn't even considering that Jeff might be launching a close-in attack, that perverse certainly reduced as the 'distance' closed.

     Jeff drove his spines deep into the Daimorigon, while accepting a few strikes in return.  He felt the hot rage of the Daimorigon as it drove its attack in, to hurt.  Jeff countered with his attacks to kill, using the creature's own force against it.  He could feel the rage flowing into his mind, fragmenting as it came, every bit of the rage for everything that ever happened, from its early rampages to its first imprisonment to its escape/reimprisonment over and over throughout time, rage at its dependency on its prey, on humans, for its very genesis.  As it wounded him, it disintegrated, the `dust` of its existence, its memories, emotions, reflections, everything that it was, all weighed Jeff down, crushing him to death, under the load, but he had a place to shunt that mass, two places.  He poured himself equally into each.  He held himself together but he couldn't keep elements of his victim from mixing with him.

     The darkness surrounded him as he opened his eyes, and he smiled, the body was sound, solid and healthy, as he stood, tested his limbs, all worked.  Hands opened and closed, the size and shape were unexpected, even as they were correct.

     This will take some getting used to, he thought, then he remembered what had been done to him and what he would do to his enemy.

     The body lay on the ground, he could feel the life had already fled from it, the transformation had destroyed what `being eaten` hadn't managed.  A blast of the breath weapon removed the remains before they further putrefied.  It was an important step, a break with the past, an embrace of the new reality.  The hands opened and closed again, claws as long as a man's arm scratched at the hard stone.  The room that held it was a trivial barrier, breaking out would be child's play.  It had the power, a power such as it hadn't had before, a clarity of thought, analysis of previous mistakes came easily, and not with the cloud of all-consuming rage that had always accompanied such introspection.  The emotion was there, a deep running river, but dammed and channeled to become the servant, rather than the master.  In the darkness immense teeth flashed, visible, or perhaps sensed, by anyone in the vicinity for their darkness, that something more than the total absence of light had been exposed however briefly.

     Moments of concentration let him feel the structure of the stone works, the spells that held it together and restrained what was within.  Then the calm, almost impersonal nature took over, probing deeper, seeing what spells were really part of the defense and which were traps for the unwary and impatient, then he probed and examined a third and a fourth layer.  He would target keystones within each web.  Enchantments were a specialty: assembling them, disassembling them, there were also the spells he'd already used to open the door.  If he could reactivate them, he would escape.  Although his current form would never fit through a human-sized door, even one as large as that, brute force would allow him to tear a hole large enough to climb through.

     The Daimorigon would never have the patience for such subtle tricks, he thought.  The huge yellow eyes, the only source of light in the room, blinked, flashing their light on and off.

     Perhaps things haven't changed as much as I thought, he considered as he settled into a coiled heap and lost himself in the analysis of the spells.

     The darkness surrounded him as he opened his eyes, and he smiled, the body was sound, solid and healthy, as he stood, tested his limbs, all worked.  Hands opened and closed, the size and shape were unexpected, even as they were correct.

     This will take some getting used to, he thought, then he remembered what had been done to him and what he would do to his enemy.

     The Twins lay panting on the ground from his earlier attack, the runes laying illuminated in the fallen helmet light's beam.  Lay in the mud of the floor of the ghoul's pit.  From it's look of surprise, it could see the sudden movement of the helmet light as Jeff replaced on his head, it didn't have to turn its head to look around, to see it was alone.  Jeff smiled as it reacted, as it saw it's doom approaching again, picked from the mud where it had cast all three.

     The enruned tiles in his hand, Jeff approached again, it cast the same time-altering spell, doubling the `friction` of every second, then quadrupling it, octupling it.  Again they played the same scene, it hadn't saved it before, now it would be a disaster.

     The seconds did not cloy and cling as they should have, the counterspell was ancient, half-remembered, and powerful.  The spell shattered and the runes again made contact, a slightly different place, a precise placement, the Daimorigon had fought Dragon Kings before, and won.  The Twins's mouths screamed in horror as the runes turned its stolen power on it with full fury, its power stolen from dragons.  That power turned the creature to stone.  Jeff watched the petrifaction with no more change of expression than a statue, he was already considering where he could get a sledge hammer and some bags.

Meine Ruh'ist Hin, Mein Herz Ist Schwer [My Peace Is Gone, My Heart Is Heavy]       Back to Index

Meine Ruh'ist Hin, Mein Herz Ist Schwer [My Peace Is Gone, My Heart Is Heavy]

     Asuka, for the moment not the bold and confident Meliorist, waited.  The horses danced nervously under their riders, catching their uncertainty.  Asuka schooled herself to give nothing away, fear was contagious.  She sat her horse, back straight, weapon at the ready.  Inside she felt nothing, she let herself feel none of the despair seeping from the abyss to claim her.  Not the guilt nor the self-loathing, if she wanted to begin her redemption, she would have to begin by killing this thing, then taking her place in the line against El Nureenen.  She would not throw her life away, but if she sacrificed herself for victory that wasn't throwing her life away.

     "It appears to be holding," Anna said.

     "Check with our mages," Asuka said sharply.  She couldn't keep the forces in line forever.  They would have to fight, or run away.

     The roar of shattered stone and animal exaltation answered her question.  Jet black, absorbing all the light around it so it appeared to shine darkness, it was the epitome of dragons.  Asuka thought the body was of an immensely powerful and greatly lengthened horse, untold thousands of opalescent black scales covered every part of the body instead of hair.  The row of heavy spines running down its neck furthered the resemblance.  The spines grew together like webbing between the fingers, partially filling the gaps between them, making it look like a horse's mane.

     The head was more elephantine, smooth and hairless, except the long trunk-like muzzle opened to reveal row upon row of teeth like a shark's array.  If a tooth was lost, another would replace it.  The long toothy maw was more like the gavial crocodilian.

     The interior of the mouth was blackish red.  Darkness and dried blood, Asuka thought.  She kept cataloging, as if concentrating on the pieces could deny the entirety.

     The tail was long and sinuous, like you'd see on a brachiosaur or a diplodocus, except the tip split, and Asuka would have bet money the three subtips were prehensile.  The two great rows of spines running down its back reminded Asuka of a picket fence, so uniform in height, so evenly spaced, so monochrome, but these were blacker than coal.

     Asuka felt her courage fleeing.  It spread its immense wings and thrust itself into the sky.  Asuka wished she had more bowmen, she wished she had a squadron of FW190's with the MG108 cannon pods.  The thing was huge!

     It circled slowly upward, catching a thermal updraft.

     "Bowmen at the ready, lancers stand by!" she ordered.  She couldn't imagine that the forces available would be enough.  It climbed well out of range of any missile weapon except a FLAK 18 or similar weapon.  It seemed to be surveying their formations, seeking weakness or strengths.

     Then it dove on them.

     "Stand by!" Asuka shouted, she searched for any weak points, features or flaws in the color, indicating weaknesses in the black scales.  She saw none as it came into range, diving like a silent Stuka.  The utter hush was unnerving to anyone who knew dragons, dragons screamed and roared during a dive.  This one was silent, it made no attempt at noise or showy displays, completely unlike every dragon these veterans had ever seen.  By not trying to unnerve them, it had succeeded in disordering them.

     "Loose!" she ordered.  The horsebows and crossbows twanged and the arrows and bolts rattled off the armor, even the wings were armored.   It didn't counterattack, climbing back into the heights like a raptor playing in the air currents.  All the lancers tracked it while their comrades reloaded.  All expected a counterattack, the creature didn't launch one.  It returned to altitude and circled, enclosing the entire force, including the baggage trains, in its orbit.

     Asuka had an odd feeling it wasn't hostile, at least not at the moment.  What kind of deal did you make? Asuka thought, despairing for her friend.  What kind of deal had he made so this monster would help them?

     "Get packed up and ready to move!" she ordered.  One of her captains stared at her.  "I gave an order, we are going to pursue that thing."

     "What about . . . "  He looked away.

     "There's nothing we can do for him," she said looking at the monster circling in the sky.

     "Form up," the commanders ordered.

     Anna rode towards her, her horse was still wild-eyed after the close pass of the dragon.  Asuka's warhorse was steadier.  "What is that thing?"

     "I think we have our weapon," Asuka said listlessly, "What happens after is the big question."

     Rei had watched the approach.  Noted the immense wingspan, greater than the span of an H8K1 flying boat, perhaps twice as great.  Wings of deepest black, more an absence of light than a color.  A complete hand set in the mid wing.  Rei had never seen anything with a wing structure like that, not like a bird's not like a bat's.

     The teeth also drew her attention, from the sharply pointed incisors, to the 3 meter long canines, to the carnassial shearing teeth.  The teeth of a pure carnivore.  All were dull black and sharp, as if unaffected by wear, or new.  Rei didn't know which.  

     Rei fired as it passed, she knew she'd hit the creature in the eye, and the quarrel had not pierced.  She'd never heard of a dragon with armored eyes.  This was definitely something she needed to report, after she followed them to discover what they were doing.  The orders to get the baggage train assembled was curious, surely they couldn't pursue this creature with all the mules and wagons and pack animals.  She also had to keep from being seen by the Meliorist or the Chief of scouts, who would recognize her if they saw her.

     She returned the box of bolts to the armorers and moved out to where she could see the preparation, but wouldn't be seen.  Rei considered all the features, she could only come to one conclusion, this was like no other creature in nature, even the odd nature of the Dreamlands, but assembled from various bits.  This monster had been carefully assembled, as a war machine.

     This creature was for fighting and killing, and it would win against anything she'd seen in the Dreamlands.  Even Unit 00 would be hard-pressed, if it had a breath weapon then the EVA would be at an even more serious disadvantage.

     She did not relish the thought of facing it in battle.  The Meliorist and her Unit 02 might relish such a contest, Rei would be willing to concede.  As long as such a concession did not weaken the Commander's plan.

     Jeff slid the manhole cover off.  He looked out of the alley at the city through different eyes.  The petrifaction of the Dragon King was an unusual experience.  The faint, crescent-shaped, bite-like scar on his chest was new, Yig's mark, a small price for surviving having someone stab you in the heart.  The smells were stronger, overwhelming the stench of the sewer, the light seemed brighter and the darkness less obscuring, the sounds more distinct and more of them.  He wondered how much was due to his deal and its aftermath, and how much was simply being alive and aboveground.

     He hauled up the bags of shattered stone, one by one, all that remained of the Twins.  The odd man with the demonic face hadn't reappeared, for which Jeff was extremely grateful.  He replaced the manhole cover and glanced around, he knew a man who lived near here who owed him a favor, a ride back to the dorms with the bags of rocks would more than pay for it.

     "Mister Davis, what are you doing?"

     I really can't catch a break, Jeff thought as he turned to face Professor Samuels.

     "What's the meaning of this?  What is that smell?  Why aren't you at the dorms?  Don't you know there's a curfew?"

     "Returning to Harvard, the avoidance of war, storm sewer, because I'm here, I hadn't heard," Jeff replied.

     The professor tried to work out the answers to the questions for a moment.  "I should call the police," Samuels threatened.

     "I would very much appreciate that, sir, I believe the British Museum will want their rocks back."

     Samuels wasn't expecting an agreement, or that Davis would invoke the British Museum.  He simply turned and marched away.

     "Good Evening to you professor!" Jeff called after him, and meant it.  The man didn't turn around.  Jeff did think the professor's idea of calling the police was a good idea, they might have a more appropriate vehicle for carrying a stinking human and several hundred pounds of rocks.

     The collection of people waiting at his dorm was curious.  Mr. Rivetti, Jeff's uncle the Dean, Captain ggreg and his friend Adam, as well as both Sharon and Jason, along with a few people from the incursion.

     His uncle advanced, then wrinkled his nose, "You really were crawling around in the sewers."

     "I'm pleased the police allowed me to use their facilities," Jeff replied as he climbed out of the paddy wagon.

     "They hosed you off, eh Boss?" Mister Rivetti asked, Jeff shrugged.

     "Captain ggreg, I believe this is what you were looking for."  Jeff showed him the crude bags of fragments.

     "What about the kidnapper," Mister Rivetti asked.

     "You shouldn't have to worry about him," Jeff replied.

     "Sorry boss, if we'd known you needed help, we would have sent some men back."

     "I'm just fatigued, and the blood is mostly not my own."

     "I saw you stabbed in the heart," Sharon stammered.

     "I have no doubt, but I am here, my opponent isn't.  I suspect what you saw only appeared to happen.  I am extremely fatigued, and would beg your indulgence, I would really like a bath and some sleep."

     "Don't assume that anything excuses your behavior," the Dean intoned.

     "No, sir.  I had no intention of avoiding the consequences of my actions," Jeff replied, "What time in the morning should I be in your office, sir?"

     "Seven A.M.," the Dean told him as Jeff left Captain ggreg and Adam to the remains of the Twins.  He showered quickly and crawled into the top bunk.

     For the first time in his life, he slept without dreaming.

     "Asuka?  Asuka?" Asuka heard the voice and woke slowly, opened one eye to peer at Anna's concerned face.  Anna reminded her of a mouse or a hamster.  Brown hair, brown eyes, brown clothes, brown manners, but those bright, inquisitive eyes.  It was the only thing Asuka really envied about her friend, Asuka was pretty, so everyone assumed she was stupid.  Plain Anna they assumed was the brains of the pair.

     They also didn't keep introducing their incredibly BORING sons to Anna, so she was free to talk to whatever family member interested her, and she had an enviable talent for finding the aunt or uncle who would tell the embarrassing stories about Asuka's would-be date, getting Asuka off the hook.  Then Anna would draw out their really fascinating and insightful stories, and Asuka would listen raptly, absorbing the lesson eagerly.

     "I just remembered why I tolerate you, you - you - you - morning person, you!" Asuka threatened.

     "'The early bird gets the worm.'"  Anna smiled happily.

     "Go eat some worms and return at a decent hour, like when the sun's up.  Quantum mechanics isn't until 10, and I finished the proofs for the Laplace Transforms before I turned in."  She grabbed the covers and pulled them over her head.

     "Then what about the Dreamlands?" Anna asked.

     That brought Asuka to full wakefulness, she pushed the covers down enough to look at the clock.  God!  People shouldn't be awake, dressed and happy at 05:30 in the morning, she thought, she was awake, not dressed or happy, as it should be.

     "What?  That we still follow that thing.  What else are we supposed to do?  It's going where we would be heading anyway, El Nureenen's place, his fortress."

     "But we're moving so fast!" Anna countered, "It took the cloudships four days at best speed through the void to arrive there, I don't know what we're galloping across, but we couldn't walk there before."

     "And that we've been moving so fast, all the horses, Hell, all the oxen and mules should have died from the pace we're setting.  Anna, I know that."

     "What's it going to do when it gets there?" Anna asked, "Whose side is it going to be on?  Ours, that thing's, its own?  We don't know."

     "I do," Asuka told her friend as she sat up, "Somebody made a deal, I think you know who.  It'll kill El Nureenen, then, that's anybody's guess."

     "The cure might be worse than the current disease."

     "That's two pithy quotations, one more and I'll remind you why I prefer football."

     "All I want to know is what are we going to do if it is hostile?"

     "Do you remember all our arrows rattling off it?  If it won't sit still for the siege artillery, if the other mages and dragons can't stop it . . . then we die."

     "That isn't very hopeful."

     "I am hopeful, if the Scholar - if Jeffery made the usual good deal he usually does, then we've got nothing . . . nothing . . . "  Asuka sighed, she wouldn't cry, not for him, not for herself, not for anyone, not anymore.  "Then we have nothing to worry about."  The words were just tumbling out she couldn't stop them.  "It could be he simply put the thing under some kind of control, it could be he's waiting in the lair while it goes out, it could be - "

     "It could be that he's dead, and you should mourn him."

     "There's no proof!" Asuka said sharply.

     "Then we have to check his dreamscape," Anna said calmly, but Asuka could see the symptoms of the incipient waterfall, "If it's gone then . . . "  It started with one tear, then another, then another.  Anna just covered her face and folded at the knees.

     Asuka held the sobbing girl.  Inside, she felt cold, wondering when Anna too would be lost to her, when Anna would betray or abandon her.

     "Jeffery!  Of all the stupid, arrogant self-righteous - " Jenny was shouting at him, even the Dean, sitting behind his desk, was intimidated into silence.  "What were you thinking?  Were you thinking?  How could anybody be so arrogant and so careless?  Even you Jeff?"

     She took a breath, Jeff dove in, "Rescue, yes, I wasn't either."

     She paused long enough to process the reply. "Fine, I doubt that, and yes you were."

     "Null, doubt isn't fact, I had a plan that plan worked.  Dealing with the unexpected is not the same as ignoring it, not knowing the unknown isn't overconfidence."

     Jenny subsided.  "You took too big a risk."

     "In retrospect, I agree.  I should have assumed heavier opposition and prepared accordingly."

     Jenny turned to the Dean, "Your witness."

     "You covered all the bases except one, how did the translation job change into rescuing some Mafioso's young daughter from a pack of ghouls?"

     "They lied, they were after more than a translation, they were after an enchanter to craft a weapon.  I don't think they were expecting me to tag along, but little Miss Rivetti's kidnaping accelerated things.  I was the only one who could bring the factions together."

     "That it succeeded doesn't make it a success, you made changes on the fly and didn't bother telling anyone who could have helped you, and understood the opposition, that you were not only rescuing, but assassinating," the Dean said, "That is a serious failure in your operation."

     "I understand that," he replied.  Not dreaming and waking refreshed after five hours worried him more than he cared to admit.  He knew the other that was once `him` in an odd way, but if it was cut off, how would it diverge?  How would it deal with the powers?  The Daimorigon knew spells but not the patience to use them.  He had always envied the dragons their flight and physical prowess, the possibility he'd lose himself to the power and freedom, and the limitless possibilities of being a dragon.  He didn't know if he could simply accept that and go on.

     He knew he would go after El Nureenen in preference to any other immediate goal, what happened after that was what worried him, for once he had no real answers and no way to verify what he needed to know.  He was a good enough actor that he might be able to hide what was genuinely going on in his mind.  He knew the other would be as skilled.

     Langley might see through it, he thought, And just how am I supposed to get her a message?

     "What do you think they were after?" the Dean asked, his tone indicated that he already had an answer, this question was a test.

     "Something that was a threat to the Empire, or Commonwealth, this was intended as an assassination.  Somehow I'd provide them an equalizer, then they'd do the deed.  I don't think they wanted to make a deal or negotiate or interrogate it.  I don't believe they expected someone else would terminate their target."

     "Good reason for caution in the future," Jenny added, "Twelve-year-old little boys aren't supposed to be soldiers."

     "Good point," Jeff agreed, "They might have been investigating my capabilities, the British have several potential 'specials'.  Sharon and Jason have been encouraging me to join their organization, for 'specials'.  Captain ggreg and Adam may have also been investigating them."

     "I think you should agree to join, simply to investigate," the Dean said.

     "I don't think they will be unwilling to give information if I remain on the periphery, they're too eager to get me to join.  I don't trust any organization that would want me as a member."

     "True," Jenny said thoughtfully, "They followed you into a sewer, into what promised to be a gunfight.  Why?"

     "Until I learn that, I'm not willing to get too close," Jeff said.

     "No objection," the Dean said.

More Light       Back to Index

More Light

     Asuka looked around as they `landed`.  She'd seen the area around El Nureenen's fortress approaching for the last hour.  She'd shaken out the formation, gotten ready for combat once they landed.  It looked like there was a major assault on the humans and their allies, by the creatures of El Nureenen.

     A day-and-a-half of galloping across the void should have left the horses and knights exhausted, or dead.  Instead Asuka felt as if she'd slept soundly and had a good meal, all the mental cobwebs and doubts that had driven her on her quest had blown away on the ride.  Too often replaced by much more concrete and immediate worries.

     They'd landed near the Red Dragons, her and Jeff's unit.  The soldiers were forming up, moving into reserve to back up the larger, less capable formations.  Asuka located the acting commander and relieved him, sending him back to distribute the returning knights and lancers to their squadrons.  The huge dragon had landed, then launched itself up into the cloud-filled sky.  The great beasts, monsters El Nureenen had constructed, soared clumsily over the fields, filling the hearts of the defenders with dread.  It had taken some time, but the humans and dragons had finally realized where El Nureenen had assembled the huge armies and immense war creatures.  His fortress wasn't anything of the kind.  It was a mausoleum, a crypt where some force had interred the dead of an entire race.  The odd, inwardly sloping pentagon was the top of an immense dodecahedron some 40 kilometers deep.  Inside could be literally trillions of bodies of whatever had once lived here and had left only a single building to mark their passing.

     She gave orders for the mobile forces to be ready, she ordered the artillerists and engineers to prepare to move the catapults, ballistae and other, smaller siege engines, the trebuchets could remain behind to rain stone and fire on the enemy.  There was the usual grumbling, but they set to their work.

     That at least is normal, she thought as she glanced skyward again, a streak of black slammed into one of El Nureenen's flying monsters.  The force of the blow snapped its back and the claws and fangs that passed by moments later shredded its wings, leaving the semi-living thing to thrash helplessly all the way down to the ground and the forces beneath it, then it spread more carnage to those it landed on and near as it thrashed around in its death agonies.  The black dragon had already climbed to disappear in the clouds.  It was classic Scholarly Dragon, cause as much havoc among the enemy as possible, but she knew it wouldn't last.  She could feel El Nureenen's spell that would break the cloud cover he had probably summoned.  Yet the spell twisted, bent and crumbled up, as if it had met a barrier it could not penetrate.  The clouds remained where they were.  Asuka wished she could have seen the demigod's pretty face when for once he was balked.

     She watched the troops assemble and she examined the skies occasionally.  Then she saw it, the enemy's left flank was in the air, she could disobey orders to remain in reserve and possibly break the enemy apart, or stay a good, little solder and fight where the High Command commanded.  She glanced at Anna and several of the battalion leaders.  They'd all seen it.

     She raised her voice to the Red Dragons, "Let's go get ourselves some medals and a court martial."  It wasn't a very rousing speech, but it got a cheer.  The Red Dragons believed in winning, not playing war by the rules.  She remembered Jeff's reassurances, she buried the resulting emotions.

     They had a ridgeline to screen their movements and the scouts to inform them of the developing situation.  She'd left about a third of the infantry to form the reserve the rest of the army might need.  The creature they'd released and followed here had continued to clear the skies of all opposition, as aerial untenability became aerial superiority, then aerial supremacy as more dragons took to the skies to hunt the crippled or pack-attack the slower targets.

     Many of the dragons in the Red Dragons and their allies in the Camilenn Order bridled at being mere APCs while Death danced in the skies, but that was what was needed, the shock effect of their aerial attack would come in coordination with the ground attack.  Those carrying the assembled catapults and ballistae, needed to get into position now, but the artillery had to stay with the rest of the force.

     First time the artillery outruns the cavalry, she thought sardonically, then glanced at the many non-flying 'cold' drakes.  She knew they secretly loved that they finally had a ranged weapon, albeit human-crewed, but they could finally match the fire of their more majestic brethren.  They broke into the open area, still screened from the enemy, and formed swiftly, received word the situation hadn't changed.  The cavalry charged, the first barrage of 'Greek fire' sailing into their enemy from the flanks.  As soon as Asuka crested the rise that hid them, she leveled her lance and for a few moments was lost to the power of the charge.  The enemy hadn't reacted to their presence, so much noise from everywhere else on the battlefield, the fliers were supposed to keep them aware, but the fliers were dead or fighting for their lives.  Asuka watched the distance shrink, then their foes saw and started to react, but it was too late.  The lances went home, spitting the creatures easily, then they broke away, leaving the lances that couldn't be withdrawn.  Archers saturated the area with fire arrows and artillery added its might before the lighter lancers went in to complete the slaughter.

     Suddenly, everything changed.  Every eye on the battlefield was drawn to the figure on the battlements.  Beautiful didn't cover it, this was the most spectacular sight anyone had ever seen.  The natural world held nothing to compare to his beauty and majesty.  Asuka tightened her grip on her lance as her voice rang out and broke the spell, at least among her troops.  That beautiful face and gentle expression was a fraud.  She'd seen that gentle face smile as some victim was ripped open or torn apart.  The smile would brighten with each scream and each plea for mercy.  Asuka pitied any beautiful, gentle-looking nonhuman she or any of the Red Dragons ever encountered, their first instinct would be to kill them instantly, on the spot.

     High above, now the province of the creature Asuka and the others had released, the other dragons traversed the sky out of professional courtesy, or because it couldn't be bothered.  Now it screamed its rage and fury.  Asuka watched in disbelief as El Nureenen, the demigod who slew at will, blanched and retreated.  Asuka almost didn't call for another charge, but she realized as the creature stooped towards the fortress, that they needed to get to the roof to support it, and the enemy was in the way.  The charge fell on a demoralized, almost disinterested enemy, as if the spirit that had animated the Army of El Nureenen had been withdrawn.  It wasn't fighting, it was a slaughter or butchery.  Asuka eschewed her lance, even her sabre-halberd, and used a sword, although she was not as skilled.  Riding among the foe swinging left and right, slicing heads as she rode.  It was more like a training exercise than anything else, although typically in training it was melons on poles or bundles of straw, not heads.  And the other knights and lancers followed her example, the infantry followed close behind, finishing off anything the cavalry missed.  Other units on the field developed their own methods, they had the opportunity to slaughter their enemy easily and entirely.  If the black dragon did little more than provide them this chance, it had already given them an incredible advantage.

     They reached the walls, Asuka looked around.  The engineers were rushing forward with scaling ladders.  Asuka signaled the dragons forward, to get the cavalry onto the huge roof.  She could hear the angry shouts and the shattering of stone, she didn't want to think about the duel between those two monsters.  Alwyk, the silver dragon landed beside her, she'd always thought he was the largest creature she'd ever seen, even his sinuous bulk was dwarfed by the creature who was flying over the roof.  She swung herself onto Alwyk's back, Anna joined her.  She never understood how Jeff and the wranglers taught the horses to tolerate being lifted by a dragon, or even stand still around one.

     The creature was smashing its fists through the almost unbreakable stone work of the fortress, it was shouting El Nureenen's name and 'Here I am!' as it battered through the stone.  Her moment of exhilaration ended as Alwyk landed, setting down the horses and allowing the two women off his back.

     "I hope you brought that," Alwyk shouted as he returned to get more troops.

     Asuka mounted, the dragons were dropping off more troops.  Engineers anchored rope ladders and hurled them down to allow more infantry to climb to the roof.  The immense black dragon had unroofed a whole amphitheatre once hidden under the roof's stonework.  As Asuka and some hundred knights and lancers galloped up to this opening, they saw it had cornered El Nureenen.  Rubble had clogged all the exits, the dragon had shattered those gateways as the rest of the force scrambled to get up here.  Now the only escape was into the air, where the huge, black dragon had already proved its excellence.  She'd never seen a dragon fight the way this one did, never, it looked ridiculous until you watched it.  Typically the intelligent ones turned broadside, to allow them to attack with their teeth or tail, although few risked their head against a major opponent.  This almost looked like a fan dance as skilled as Sally Rand's.  The dragon used his swirling wings and the dust it raised to confuse the eye.  The strike could be from the tail, or a front or rear clawed leg.  Then its head darted out.  Rather than strike to bite, it unleashed its breath weapon at a range of a few meters.  The force drove El Nureenen back a pace, it was clear he was completely on the defensive physically.  El Nureenen spoke his spells, the weapon no one could stand against, but the dragon chanted and danced his own counterspells, and kept on striking.  The relentless attack pressed the demigod back, its flowing robes were growing more tattered.

     Asuka watched the faces assembling, soldiers, generals, dragons, others, all watching the battle as if it were a gladiatorial game.  The silence of those who watched made eerie counterpoint to the grunts, shouts, spoken spells and snarls of the pair fighting.  Asuka wished she could toss the dragon a weapon, instead of claws and tail, it might be able to wield one in each limb.  Asuka relished the look of growing concern that was infecting El Nureenen's expression.  On anyone else, such an expression would have all but dragged a person forward to offer comfort and sympathy, surely no one so beautiful should be so troubled.  Instead those who watched and waited enjoyed that the battle was not going as expected.  El Nureenen had also discovered that this dragon's wings were not the fragile things they were on most dragons.

     Asuka recognized the tricks, playing against El Nureenen's assumptions, playing against his expectations.  Despair was the result.  The dragon's claws ripped through the creature's robes, drew its blood, despair turned to rage, but this was no time to give vent to its rage.  The dragon's jaws closed on the charging demigod, crushing him in half.  El Nureenen shrieked for an instant, laying a curse on its slayer.  An entire concept forced into one brief cry of outrage.

     As the shriek died away, everyone glanced at each other, wondering what was next.  So many years, so many losses.  Someone cheered, but it wasn't widely picked up and it died away quickly.  Only the sound of the wind on the banners, so oddly loud, broke the silence after the noise of battle.  The creature raised his head, stared at those surrounding it, then it launched itself into the air.  Every eye tracked it as it headed out and away from the army, their camps and the huge graveyard where they had interred their lost.

     Asuka looked down at the ruined amphitheatre, she just felt empty.  No one seemed eager to celebrate, they turned away in ones and twos, the forces would reassemble below.  If it really was over, they would have to have transport.  That would take weeks, her mind was already turning to schedules, and units, and other logistical concerns.  Tedium as defense.  The dragon hadn't arrowed back towards the cavern she and the others had released it from.  That could mean anything, but it was something she had to find out.

There Is A Strong Shadow Where There Is Much Light       Back to Index

There Is A Strong Shadow Where There Is Much Light

     The Meliorist walked alone, she'd sent away her bodyguards, and her warhorse.  The dell was between two hills.  The bulk of the creature was disguised from the camp, but it could see all that was going on.

     "Hello?" she called.

     Oh what witty repartee, she thought as she advanced, What are you so nervous about?  If he'd wanted to kill anyone, he could have done it by now!  She left out that she doubted anyone could have stopped him.  The massive eyes opened, regarded her neutrally.  All she could think of was BIG!  She knew warships were all much larger, but only the E-boats could match this creature's speed and acceleration.  In the air, even the schnellbombers, even the British Mosquito couldn't approach the power and maneuverability it displayed, and it was larger than any 4-engined aircraft she'd ever seen, or heard of.  Only the BV238 flying boat even approached its size, even that monster was dwarfed by this one.

     "To what do I owe the pleasure?  Virgin sacrifice?"

     She blushed at that, she'd taken lovers in the past, that was not widely known or bandied about, but it would have precluded her from such a selection, "I - " she squeaked, cleared her throat, "I came up to see you."

     "I'm not in the mood for a riddle contest and I have no hoard to burgle.  So you must have another motive."

     "I -," she paused, tried to continue, her eyes kept being drawn to his skin.  Other dragons had scales, rectangular or diamond-shaped plates that overlapped, or leathery smooth skin.  This one seemed to have tightly-packed round scales set in the skin, like water smoothed stones set in cement.  The stones were vaguely opalescent, the thin lines of skin between defined blackness better than any description.  Nothing could be that dark.  Especially not under the sunlight.

     Suddenly the dragon struck out.  Asuka had no chance to move or dodge, but the head turned aside and instead she was presented with a long stretch of exposed neck, right within her reach.

     "Satisfy the scientist's curiosity," the creature rumbled, "You always were more of an engineer than you cared to admit."

     She took the barb without comment, what the statement implied worried her more than the presence of the dragon.  Only three people teased her so, Dr. Schikelgrubber was no dreamer, Anna was back at camp, the third . . .

     She touched the skin to help banish that thought, it was warm and her impression of smooth stones in cement was borne out.  The scales were hard, the skin between more like wood than any leather.  She hadn't the faintest idea how the combination had resisted the barrage they'd fired at it.  Some of the heaviest bows and crossbows could drive a chisel-tipped bolt through 2 cm of cast iron.  Even more surprising was the creature's evident flexibility, the armor couldn't be the single, solid piece it appeared to be.

     "Satisfied?" he asked.

     "More curious than ever," she admitted.  The rumbling chuckle frightened her a bit, as if she'd encountered a mirthful locomotive.  "I apologize for shooting you, for ordering the firing."

     "If I hadn't wanted to be fired upon, I wouldn't have gotten close," he admitted.

     "One question above all others," she managed, she hadn't quite leapt back with a frightened squeak when it - he - laughed at that, but it was a near thing.

     "Ah, the most difficult question first.  The answer is your friend died bravely, killing what I was."  He said it coldly, matter-of-factly, as if it didn't matter, maybe it didn't, to him.

     Asuka felt her heart sink even as her knees gave way.  She covered her face with her hands as she heard the dragon withdraw, leaving her alone with her grief.

     I killed him, she told herself, He walked into the middle of my stupid scheme and died, died to rescue me from my own incompetence.

     "Why?  Why!? WHY!?" she screamed at no one and nothing in particular.  God had long ago quit answering, and she could trust nothing else in the upper and lower realms.

     "Because he loved you.  Because he thought he could win.  Because his mortal body in the Waking World had died and he needed to see at least two people he cared about be able to carry on," the gravelly, deep voice of the dragon sounded oddly sympathetic, "I know his thoughts, his feelings, they are not wholly mine, nor are they the rage at the world that created it, that was the Daimorigon.  I am both, each and neither, all at the same time."

     Suddenly Asuka was flat on her back, the massive clawed hands pressing her down, the rage that boiled in those yellow pupilless eyes terrified her beyond description.  Its breath stank of acid, ozone and charred wood.

     "And I will not allow you to destroy yourself out of some misplaced sense of atonement!"  The pressure eased, the massive hand was removed, giving Asuka a very good look at the size and strength of the talons, the rock dust showed they'd been driven almost 70 centimeters into solid rock.  "He was a grown adult who made a decision, the same command decision you and he have had to make hundreds of times before, 'Who lives and who dies'.  Don't dishonor his memory by taking the coward's way out.  You have a responsibility to Germany, and the human race.  I've seen bits and pieces of battles against the things your Unit 02 was built to fight.  They are terrible past any nightmare you could ever dream.  And only you can lead the forces that will rise up."

     "There is a Japanese pilot," Asuka said, still unable to fully absorb all the events.

     "Japanese?  Oh that's rich.  'Yes Commander-san, No Commander-san, Fall on my sword?  Of course Commander-san, I serve the Emperor.'  A thinking German soldier nearly made the dreams of Napoleon and the Caesars a reality, do you really believe that you can rely on anyone else to do the job?"

     Asuka didn't, the rumors she'd heard about the Japanese pilots, the dragon's prejudices were eerily accurate.  Over 20 had been slaughtered in testing, she and Anna were the only German pilots and they had not sacrificed them that way.  She well knew that a veteran was worth two to three trainees, talent was no match for thought and experience.

     "So are you going to demand an oath?" she asked, almost flippantly.

     "I am going to demand you do your best.  I'm going to demand Asuka Soryu Langley prove she is as good as she thinks she is, prove she's better than that, that no obstacle, not her own ego or any external foe or stupidity will prevent her from accomplishing this," the dragon said with all seriousness, "I don't need an oath, or your word, I know you."

     Asuka shifted uneasily at that.  "So what do I call you?  Jeffery or Mister Davis . . . don't seem appropriate."

     "You often called me 'The Scholarly Dragon,' I see no reason to change that."

     "Very well.  You're fighting style had a number of flaws," Asuka joked.

     "A little Savate, mostly brawling," the Scholarly Dragon said.

     "Maybe you need something better," Asuka suggested.

     "Dragon Kung Fu?"

     "Why not something more modern?  Shorinji Kempo was developed in the 1930's."

     The dragon snorted, "Right.  Someone skilled and stupid enough to train a dragon some fighting arts, there's nobody like that in this whole universe," the dragon said.

     Asuka grew serious.  "I . . . I need to know what happened, all of it, I want . . . I want to know how he died."

     "You won't like much of what I tell you."

     "I'll - I'll survive," she said.

     I always survive, she thought morosely.



(1) Miskatonic University