torg 02 - The Dark Realm Page 3

  "When this is over," Burke laughed, "I'll see what I can do."

  The Horn Master led his terrifying band of spectral riders over the city, letting huntsmen dart to the ground to wreak havoc where they would. He noted that the

  squires were hard at work gathering the souls of those slain by the huntsmen. These souls would be added to the Hunt, eventually taking their places as hunters, or being transformed into shadow creatures to run with the pack or fly with the flock.

  The furious host was in motion, and the Horn Master knew that his own lord would be pleased. He remembered the orders given him, orders that came down from Lord Uthorion (who still played his game of deceit in the body of Pella Ardinay, but to what end the I lorn Master could not fathom). The Wild Hunt was to fly to the aid of Baruk Kaah, High Lord of the Living Land, and provide support until such time as Uthorion called the Hunt back. There was one clause, however, that burned brightly in the Horn Master's memories.

  "If you find Tolwyn of House Tancred, kill her quickly and bring me her soul," the voice that whispered in the Horn Master's mind was Ardinay's, but the words were Uthorion's.

  And through it all, whether aiding Baruk Kaah or hunting down the paladin, the Wild Hunt would get to do what it did best — cause untold destruction and gather souls to replenish the Hunt.

  The night wings alighted on the Horn Master's shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts as he felt the tingling touch of their shadowy feathers. He regarded the raven-things momentarily, then shifted his gaze toward the horizon, toward where the danger they had come to warn him of originated. Blazing eyes glared from the dark hollows of his helmet, and the horn master listened to the approaching sound that rivaled the clamor of the Wild Hunt. Metal bats streaked toward him, his mind shouting the word Lord Uthorion gave him — "airplane." But to the Horn Master, "iron bat" made more sense. He raised his horn and blared an order, and immediately a wave of hunters rushed forward.

  Yes, the Horn Master thought as he replaced the instrument, now the challenge begins.

  7

  Captain Burke placed his fighter on a course that would take it over the heart of the city. His instruments still showed the "all-clear," and he was beginning to think they had been scrambled for a wild goose chase.

  "Anybody have anything to report?" he asked his wingmen.

  "Negative," replied Zahn.

  "Not a peep on the screens," answered Whit.

  "Let's do a flyby and see what we see," Burke said.

  "Hey, Captain," Whit came back excitedly, "take a look at your two o'clock. What do you make of that?"

  It took Burke a moment to distinguish the rolling black storm cloud against the backdrop of ash, but when he did it was easy to track.

  "Looks like one hell of a storm," Burke said over his radio. "But I can't get it to register on my scopes. Zahn?"

  "Negatory, Captain," Zahn responded quickly. "According to the radar, it isn't there."

  Now Burke was becoming concerned. Not nervous, mind you. Just concerned. Perhaps, he thought, our scopes are down. Or worse, maybe the enemy has a way to disable the radar. If that was the case, then the unidentified threat could be anywhere.

  "Stay alert, people," Burke ordered. "If the radar is down, then we're going to have to rely on visuals."

  "That's not going to be easy in this volcanic crap," Zahn said.

  "Heads up!" Whit shouted.

  Part of the storm broke off from the main host and moved toward the approaching F-15s. Not drifted, Burke told himself, but moving as if with purpose and intent, l ightning flashed, and for a moment the storm was f ilied with riders on horseback and packs of dogs. Then the flash was over and the dark cloud was closer.

  "Evasive action!" Burke screamed into his radio. "Move it, people!"

  Burke forced his fighter into a roll, not waiting to see if the others were following his orders. But a second later, he knew that Whit had hesitated by the chatter coming back through his headset.

  "Captain, what's the problem?" Whit asked. "It's just a cloud for God's sake. Wait a minute. Will you look at that. Captain, there's a guy with a sword —"

  Whit's voice was cut off and an explosion followed. Burke strained to see out his cockpit. He saw the bright flash of the exploding plane. And he saw that the cloud was turning, placing itself on an intercept course for him and Zahn.

  "What do we do?" Zahn asked over the radio.

  "Do? We do what we came to do," Burke replied. "We fight and destroy."

  8

  The Horn Master howled in delight as the iron bat fell from the air. What a masterful stroke the hunter had delivered! If this was challenge, then the High Lords would take this sphere without raising a sweat, the Horn Master thought. He watched a moment longer to make certain that the hunters were engaging the remaining iron bats — airplanes, he corrected — then ordered the rest of the hunt to descend.

  9

  Behind the drawn shades and bolted doors of Cheyenne, people became increasingly afraid. It wasn't the unnatural ash that coated the sky that caused this new fear. They had grown used to that in recent days. It wasn't the long day or the promise of a long night to come. That was a fear that had been with them and was almost familiar. The new fear was much more immediate — and much more intense.

  It was a fear carried in on the storm winds, a fear that blew against the houses and shook them with a ferocity that inspired images of someone — or something — trying to get in. It was a communal fear, a deep-rooted fear from the depths of primal memory, a fear that shouted to run and hide.

  Outside, people heard the storm rushing through the air. But other sounds echoed in the storm as well, a great clamor of shouts and horn-blowing and the baying of hounds. Any who peered through half-closed curtains or cracked doors saw the thundercloud move over Cheyenne like a giant. From its rolling mass came horselike beasts with riders of storm and death, and red- eyed hounds with tongues of fire, and a flight of black birds to laugh and taunt with sounds near enough to speech to make people shudder. The descent of the riders and hounds was like a lightning bolt, and it leveled the buildings all around the area of impact, leaving curls of flame and twisting pillars of smoke in their wake.

  The Wild Hunt moved on, cutting a swath through the city, knocking down apartments and houses with hammer blows of great iron-shod hooves, and smashing winds from horns of power, and sometimes a bright spear would lick out of the clouds, leaving bits of broken

  I lesli or metal where there had been humans hoping to icsist. Those that emerged from their hiding places met I ho fate of the hunted and were brought down like deer, Hoeing mindlessly from place to place.

  And still the hunt moved on, slowly and methodically grinding the city to dust as it moved through. The hunters passed one another as they rode, and some had hair matted from effort, and others had red-stained hoards where they had tasted the hearts of their prey, and still others carried shiny trinkets or trophies commemorating the hunt. They were spirit things, the dead; demons, some said. They were all these things and more. They were the Wild Hunt, and Uthorion had set them free upon this world.

  10

  Burke's F-15 screamed eastward on a fast vector toward the cloud that had destroyed Whit and was now moving to engage him and Zahn. From one kilometer out, Burke fired two Sparrow missiles into the swirling black cloud, assuming that his true target was hiding somewhere within the dark mass. The missiles calmly arced through the sky, into the fast-approaching cloud, and out the other side.

  "No luck, Captain," Zahn noted.

  "Switch to radar painting and try to get a reading," Burke ordered.

  "Nothing doing there, either," Zahn came back, confirming what Burke's own instruments told him — or didn't tell him.

  "Radio Warren and give them an update, then follow me into that thunderhead," Burke said as he circled wide to approach the cloud from a different angle.

  Then the riders appeared.

  They galloped out of the storm cloud in a
burst of thunder, riding atop black spectral horses whose hooves sparked with lightning as they raced across the sky. The spectral horses had red eyes, red mouths, and spraying nostrils; the riders were demonic men of great size, with spears and swords and gleaming shields. On their heads they wore horned helms, and there was an aura of smoke and blood all about them. They rode toward the war planes with great cries of joy and battle-lust. Some were more skeletal than flesh, others were insubstantial, ghostlike. All were flying death.

  Burke refused to believe his eyes. He knew the world had changed, had become very strange, but he wasn't aware that it had gone mad.

  "Zahn, tell me what you see," Burke ordered.

  There was a pause. Then Zahn spoke. "It can't be real. How can horses gallop through the sky? And why do those riders shift from real and solid looking to skeletal when the lightning flashes? What are they, Captain?"

  Burke didn't answer. Instead, he put the fighter into a forward roll and fired its rotary cannon at the riders. They seemed not to notice, or at most to brush at their faces and shoulders, and to hunch a little lower in their saddles as they drove forward. Then Burke and Zahn engaged the demonic beings, frantically wheeling and attacking with cannon fire.

  "It's no good," Burke shouted into his radio. "The cannons don't pack enough punch to get through their armor and shields. Pull up and let's put a little distance between us."

  Burke's F-I5 spun free of the pack of riders and shot skyward. He checked his scope for Zahn and saw that his wingman was flying in the other direction, toward the larger cloud that rested over the city far below. Burke

  I x isitioned his craft so that he could get a visual. He saw the other fighter on the tail of one of the riders, chasing him into the tower of cloud and darkness.

  "Zahn, pull out of there!" Burke screamed. "I gave you an order, mister!"

  "I've got this bastard, Burke," Zahn shot back, his voice almost lost in the building static. "This is for Whit!"

  But before Zahn could loose his missiles, two other riders exploded out of the cloud cover. They wielded large, gleaming swords that whistled over their heads as they charged forward. Then, like lightning, the twin blades struck, searing the wings from the F-15. The other rider, no longer fleeing, spun his mount and brought his own blade to bear upon Zahn's jet. Burke heard his wingman scream defiantly as his jet raced on a collision course with the rider.

  "Eject! Zahn, ditch the Eagle! Now!" But Burke knew his command would go unheeded, just as he knew he had no hope of avenging his wingmen, no chance of taking out this enemy.

  The rider dived beneath the oncoming fighter which, without wings, could not correct its own course. As he dropped out of the F-15's path, the rider slashed out with his sword. Zahn's Eagle exploded in a shower of fire, and Burke felt his stomach drop away.

  "Damn you, monster!" Burke screamed, his fingers punching the triggers that released his Sidewinder missiles.

  The two projectiles raced at the rider who had ended Zahn's life, but the demon stood his ground confidently and readied his throwing spear. With an evil grin, the rider tossed the shaft at Burke just as the twin missiles slammed into him and exploded. Burke grinned back as he saw the horse plummet. Then the spear smashed through the cockpit, skewering Burke before his own plane was consumed in a ball of flame.

  11

  The swirling melee ended as quickly as it had begun, and all that remained was the ash, the storm cloud, and the riders and their hounds.

  The Horn Master surveyed his minions and saw that the battle-frenzy was overtaking them; eyes were glazed with a drunkenness born of killing; the hounds ran to and fro excitedly, baying and snapping at one another. The ravens, above them all, swirled frantically in a pillar of smoky feathers, faster and faster. The Horn Master had seen this before, on a thousand such hunts, and knew that now was the time to rein in, to call the Hunt to gather. He reached again for the horn, and winded a great double blast. "Return!" the great horn ordered. "Return!"

  His very will boiled out in the horn call, and that will bent the desires of his minions, brought them to a halt, shaking their heads and letting the battle-lust melt away like snow in spring. The Horn Master sounded the call again, and they returned: the horses and hounds, the ravens and the squires. All moved slowly to gather about their leader, heeding his call and the crackling power of his desire as they returned to the tower of cloud and darkness.

  As they drew closer, they shifted into their true forms. Horses and hounds became shadow-black creatures without definition, four-legged demons with glowing eyes and pointed fangs and claws. The birds were fragments of night, with night wings spread wide and night beaks serrated with sharp teeth. The squires

  were shadowy apparitions with featureless faces, transparent skin, and skeletal limbs. Finally, the hunters themselves were restless spirits of gigantic proportions, with long, misshapened limbs that seemed to constantly shift and reform.

  When all were gathered, the Horn Master wheeled his mount and broke into a trot, leading the way southwest to where their presence had been requested by Baruk Kaah.

  The Hunt followed sedately behind, the riders relaxed in ghostly saddles, the raven-things at rest atop convenient shoulders, and the hound-things idly gnawing bits of metal and flesh as they trotted beside their masters. Soon the Hunt was gone from sight, and Cheyenne was alone again. But a great swath of flattened, destroyed city was left in its wake, as if made by hurricane, tornado and tsunami all at once. All that remained was dancing flames, twisting columns of smoke, and hissing cinders that fell from the sky.

  12

  Tolwyn of House Tancred waited for her companions to arrive. She was in the rec room of the hospital at Twentynine Palms Marine Corps Base, somewhere in the area Christopher Bryce called Southern California. Much of her memory had returned during the recent confrontation with the Carredon, but there were still annoying gaps that refused to fill. She was Tolwyn of House Tancred, Captain of the Knight Protectors, paladin of the Lady of the Houses of Aysle, defender of Pella Ardinay. In a terrible battle against the dark forces of Angar Uthorion, Tolwyn and her knights fell against the power of the Carredon. How long ago that first meeting with the demon dragon was, she had no way to judge.

  Time was measured differently on this world called Earth. But she had been dead, floating in an in-between place, waiting to be claimed by either the darkness or the light, when she suddenly found herself on this world, seemingly called back to life by Christopher's voice.

  She examined her hand before her face, flexing away the stiffness. It was her hand! She recognized it! But others still called her Wendy Miller. Sometimes, when the other dreams ended, the dreams of Carredons and enigmatic black men, she dreamed of a woman with her face, staring at her. The woman, however, did not have Tolwyn's emerald eyes. Instead, she had eyes as brown as the bark on a tree. Tolwyn felt sorry for the woman — for Wendy.

  She reached for the knapsack on the table and removed a wrapped object. She could hear its song, the song that called her to travel across this vast country to the place named Grand Canyon. Slowly she unwrapped it, and the brilliant blue light bathed her face in a warm glow. The stone was the same color as her crys flower, a swirling combination of blue and red, and it was shaped like a human heart. Was there a connection between the similar colors? Yes, she was certain, but what that connection was eluded her.

  "Can you give me back the rest of my memories?" she whispered to the stone Decker called the Heart of Coyote. "What is it you want me to do?"

  The song remained constant, neither rising in intensity or lowering. It continued to provide support through its presence, but it gave her no answers.

  Then the companions entered the room. Father Christopher Bryce came first, wearing his usual black uniform and white collar. Dr. Hachi Mara-Two followed, wearing a black jumpsuit, but her face was clean of her

  usually mask-like makeup. Her wild mane of silver hair was held in check by the bandage over her right temple. She had
suffered a concussion from the Carredon's blow, but was recovering well. Coyote was next, helping the edeinos Tal Tu into the room. Coyote had suffered 110 physical injuries on their trek, but he had lost some of his fire. Tal Tu, on the other hand, had been injured gravely. The doctors at the base were surprised that he was up and around at all, and they warned him that any exertion could open his wounds. Behind them was Rat, whose arm was still in a sling. He, too, had become withdrawn, and Christopher was doing his best to pull the boys out of their depression.

  They all took seats, looking expectantly at Tolwyn. She, in turn, looked at them, and a pang of sorrow touched her when she noticed the empty chairs. Rick Alder would not be at this meeting. They had buried him in the military graveyard located on this base. And Decker would not be walking through the door, for he was in a state very similar to death. The door opened again, and Kurst moved into the room the way a stalking cat moves. Without a word, he found a seat and looked up to indicate that he was ready.