torg 01 - Storm Knights (28 page)

"This world is troubled, full of sin and sinners. The heathens have had their day, but now the Time of Judgment is upon us!" The monk's words were powerful, captivating. The crowd ate it up. Even Guerault was swayed by the emotions he evoked. "We have been looking for a sign, and I tell you that the signs are rampant these days. In heathen America, in Great Britain, the sins of the people have called their own judgment upon them! But before such disaster befalls the French people, I have good news!"

The crowd edged forward, anxiously awaiting the next words to issue forth from the monk. He let them wait for a long moment, letting their anticipation build. Guerault saw that Dupuy was still snapping away.

The monk spoke again. "Like Lot and his family, like the Jews in Egypt, we shall be spared the terrible events of the Last Days! For someone is coming who will save us from our sins, who will lead us into the New Earth that is to rise from the ashes of the old world."

Guerault had stopped writing. What was the monk saying? Who was he talking about? She pulled her jacket closed, trying to keep warm as the wind blew harder and the sky grew darker. The clouds were rolling, boiling, and she was suddenly very frightened.

"He shall banish the darkness!" the monk exclaimed. "He shall dispose of the evils of this world, the technology that is the devil's work, and he shall restore the simpler times that have been forgotten. And lo, this shall be the sign of his coming!"

With that, the clouds parted and an arch of golden light fell from the sky. It struck the church, bathing it in an otherworldly glow. A wave of energy rolled off the arch and rippled through the crowd. Streetlights went off in its wake. Even Henri Dupuy's camera stopped working. The crowd fell to its knees before the golden arch. It took every ounce of willpower that Guerault possessed for her not to follow their example.

"Look upon the sign of our shepherd, my brethren!" the monk called out. "Prepare yourselves, for soon our Holy Father shall come!"

Guerault worked her way over to the photographer. "Come on, Henri," she said. "We have to get out of here. Don't you feel it? This crowd will do anything the monk says."

"Isn't it wonderful, Claudine?" Dupuy asked. He dropped his camera, letting it smash upon the concrete sidewalk. "He is coming!"

"No, not you too, Henri?" Guerault pushed the photographer away and rushed through the crowd. She didn't understand what was happening, but she knew she had to get away while there was still time. She had to tell someone about the miracle she witnessed — and she had to decide if it was heavenly in origin, or something worse.

89

Kurst, after examining the map he had acquired, decided his best option was to travel through the Living Land. He could borrow a flying lizard to use as a mount, then catch the stormers somewhere around the city named Columbus, where the road they were traveling through Core Earth met with the road he would take through the realm. His station demanded respect in Baruk Kaah's realm, and his claws were proof of his identity. He only needed to shred two of the edeinos to obtain the lakten. Now he was atop the winged lizard, following the road marked as "80" on the map.

The remaining edeinos had been helpful enough to provide him with a benthe as well. The small, globular being rested on the lakten's neck, commanding it by manipulating its body chemistry. That left Kurst free to examine the countryside they were flying over.

This world was more advanced than his own, Kurst noted, more technologically dependent. It was true that Orrorsh had a level of industry and mechanical aptitude, but that was a relatively new development in his society. The great cities below him gave way to fields and forests that stretched across the great continent. Everything was so much bigger, more spread out, than he was used to.

But the Living Land was already making its presence felt. The fields and forests were wilder, more primitive looking than Kurst imagined they normally were. And new lifeforms, larger than what the land normally supported, were moving everywhere. In fact, the movement of two particular groups of creatures caught the hunter's interest.

"Circle here, then land in front of those creatures," Kurst ordered the benthe. It extended a pseudopod to acknowledge the command, then relayed directions to the lakten.

The winged lizard made a wide sweep, giving Kurst plenty of opportunity to examine the two converging groups. The first group consisted of Living Land natives. A half-dozen edeinos warriors, accompanied by a huge tresir, waited to ambush the second group. The second group appeared to be Core Earthers, wearing military garb, and walking along the road in the same direction as Kurst was flying. Their walk, however, would take them right into the ambush.

"This could be interesting," Kurst noted, as the lakten came to a landing near the group of edeinos.

The hunter dismounted and strode into the group of lizard men. They eyed him curiously, unsure of what to make of the inconsistencies of his appearance. It was definite that he was not of the Living Land, but he rode a lakten. The younger hunters were already twitching nervously, but their leader — an edeinos of many years — stepped in front of the small, soft-skinned one. He jabbed his hrockt shoot spear into Kurst's chest, just touching the hunter's skin with the sharp point. Then he spoke the language of the Land.

"Who are you, dead one, and what gives you the right to command a lakten?" the old warrior demanded harshly.

Kurst smiled, and answered back in the lizard man's own language. "I am Kurst, hunter for the Gaunt Man, and Baruk Kaah himself gives me passage through this realm."

The younger warriors shuddered at the mention of the Gaunt Man, and their eyes widened to hear this soft-skin speak of their Saar in such a familiar manner.

"He lies," spat the young edeinos standing beside the tresir. The great beast roared to emphasize the young warrior's statement.

Faster than any of them could act, Kurst sprang. He leaped at the young warrior, his body changing as he quickly crossed the distance separating the two. Hair grew over his body, covering his skin with fur. He grew taller, wider. Claws extended from powerful fingers, and his nose elongated, becoming a tooth-filled snout. When his sharp claws struck the lizard man, slicing through scales and flesh, he had transformed completely into a demonic werewolf.

The young warrior fell, hitting the ground with a thud. Kurst stood over him, watching the light of life quickly fade from the warrior's eyes. Then he turned to the old lizard, holding the young warrior's still pumping heart in one clawed fist.

Impressed, the old one said, "Join us, honored hunter, in the attack we are about to engage in."

The werewolf nodded, then gulped down the beating heart before all the blood drained out.

90

Andrew Jackson Decker concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, willing his legs to walk. The seven marines with him were doing a little better, but it had been a long time since Decker had had to do a sustained march. He wished they could stop and rest, but he didn't want to show the soldiers that he wasn't up to the task at hand. He didn't even want to admit it to himself. Still, while he was in decent shape, his days of professional baseball and his own stint in the armed forces were far behind him.

"Congressman," Sergeant Lewis said, "with your permission, I'd like to call a five minute break."

"Is all this excerise starting to get to you, sergeant?" Decker huffed.

"No, sir," the sergeant replied. "We can keep going if you want to."

"That's all right, sergeant," Decker said quickly. "I think a short break is in order."

Decker collapsed on the side of the highway, trying not to let his fatigue show too much. He grabbed his canteen, unscrewed the top, and drank deeply. Lewis and the marines, he noted with some satisfaction, did likewise.

"You used to play ball, didn't you, sir?" the marine named Sanders asked.

"That was a long time ago, soldier. You and President Wells are probably the only people who remember that. I wasn't very good."

"Nonsense!" Sergeant Lewis said. "You were one of the most promising pitchers of your day. If memory serves, Ace Decker had a three point two ERA, a thirty-four and fourteen record, and three hundred and fifty-two strikeouts in two seasons. Then you left the game. Why, congressman?"

Decker returned his canteen to his belt strap. "You've done your homework, sergeant."

"I like to know who I'm serving with, sir."

"Commendable. So I might as well fill you in on the rest of the story. I went right from high school into Triple A ball, spent one season in the minors, then was called up to play in the major leagues. It was a dream come true for me, and I wanted to show everyone that I could do it. But after the first season, it started to seem

trivial to me. There had to be a better way to use my life. So I enlisted in the marines, finished college, and later entered political life."

"Don't you miss the cheers?" Sanders asked.

Before Decker could answer, a violent noise interrupted him. The congressman rose, turning to see what was crashing through the bushes beside the road. He saw movement, something large and fast, then it burst from the foliage. It was as long as a station wagon and twice as tall, running on all fours. It reminded Decker of a cat, but only its grace and speed were feline in nature. While it was sleek and sinewy, instead of fur it was covered in shiny black scales. Talons sprang from its four feet, and its head was reptilian. It had the teeth of a meat eater, and a mane of black fur fell from the top of its head to its powerful shoulders.

It smashed into Decker, hitting him with its leg. Had he remained sitting, its talons would have raked him as it passed. As it was, the scales along its leg sliced through his fatigues and ripped away skin from his chest and left arm. He fell hard, and the world went black.

Sergeant Lewis and his men leaped up at the same time Decker did. But Sanders and Dallas never had a chance. The huge beast — which Lewis took to be a cross between a crocodile and a lion — tore into the two men with its clawed paws.

Teagle and Burton swung their M-16s off their shoulders and leveled them at the creature. They pulled the triggers, expecting the familiar recoil and feeling of power associated with firing the weapons. But nothing happened. Like the vehicles they had to abandon, the weapons refused to function. The creature continued its frenzied attack, grasping Burton in its huge jaws. It fastened its teeth around his mid-section, and blood spurted as it bit into him. The soldier screamed.

Teagle went to his friend's aid, using his otherwise-useless rifle to batter the monster. Lewis heard the butt clang off of the creature's scaled hide. Then he watched in horror as Burton's body fell away, savagely bitten in half.

"Teagle, get away from that thing!" the sergeant ordered. But the creature was fast. It plowed into the soldier and landed on top of him. Then it began to feast.

Lewis looked around. Jones was beside him, staring in shock at the events that were happening so quickly. Miller, the last of his remaining men, was running back down the road in the direction they had come from. Before he could clear his head and issue orders, other creatures emerged from the brush. There were five lizard men, each carrying a spear, and a giant wolf that stood on two legs. The wolf exploded after Miller, running like a streak of fur and fangs. The lizard men stepped toward Lewis and Jones.

"Come on, Jones," the sergeant cajoled, "give me some help here."

"We're dead, sarge," Jones blubbered. "Oh God, look at what it did to Burton!"

Sergeant Lewis raised his weapon and fired. Nothing!

"I'll be damned if I'll just stand here and let them kill me!" Lewis shouted, running forward. He smashed the butt of his rifle into the skull of one of the lizard men. He smiled at the satisfying sound of shattering bone, and the lizard dropped.

One of the lizards roared something that almost sounded like speech, then it tossed its spear at Jones. The marine staggered back as the heavy shaft burst through his chest. "I'm sorry, sergeant," Jones said. Thorns sprouted along the shaft. Jones tried to say something else, but all that came out of his mouth was a fountain of red. Then he collapsed.

The sergeant swung his rifle like a club, and the remaining lizard men kept their distance. Five men killed in less than five minutes, Lewis counted. And they had only been able to take out one of the enemy. Not a good showing of ourselves, he decided, not for marines. He hoped Miller had escaped from that wolf.

That slim hope faded when Miller's scream sounded. My men, Lewis thought, they killed my men. Then he steeled himself, and leaped at the lizards. One more of the monsters fell under the sergeant's barrage of blows, then three spears pierced him at the same time, skewering him where he stood. At least, he thought as his vision faded, I took a few of them with me.

Decker opened his eyes and found himself looking at the sky. It was a dark, cloud-filled sky, but at least the rain had stopped falling. That seemed to be important to him, but he didn't know why. His body ached, and he could feel a warm, sticky wetness across his chest and arm. He decided that it would be best if he just stayed where he was. He wanted to rest. Maybe that would make the pain go away.

But the sky was behaving strangely. The clouds were spinning, twirling faster and faster. They were forming into a shape that Decker had seen a lot lately. It filled his dreams almost every night. Now it was hanging in the sky over his head. The blue stone with the red streaks imbedded inside it.