Hero's Curse (32 page)

I considered calling Sanguinis. On full auto, I could take out Sven quickly. I’d have an insurmountable advantage until the Jotunn figured out they had to close and grapple with me. It’s almost impossible to use a long gun effectively when you’re wrestling someone. The holmgang was only fifteen feet in diameter, and a seven foot Jotunn would reach me in one step. Once the surprise was gone, there was no way I’d be able to kill every single one of them before one finally got close enough to take me down.

Both my bang sticks were expended, and though I still had the tasers and garrote, I couldn’t let the Jotunn get their hands on me; they were just too big and strong and heavy. They’d have too much advantage.

It was best to get Samson involved before I had to use Sanguinis.

“Obex.” I entered the holmgang and immediately ducked below his spear thrust at my neck.

I tried to nail his chest before he could bring his spearhead back. He dropped the butt of his spear shaft down and used it across his body to knock Obex off line. I used the momentum of his block to swing the back end of my spear toward his knee. He stepped back, out of my reach.

Our strikes and blocks came so fast I had to depend on my instincts. I couldn’t think fast enough to keep up with each attack. I tried to close in on him—to get inside the reach of his arms while he tried to keep me so far back I couldn’t touch him. Neither of us completely succeeded.

I wasn’t able to get Obex through his defenses. My pepper spray was supposed to be accurate and effective up to ten feet—that was bullshit. Realistically it was more like six feet. From second to second, move to move, Sven was constantly in and out of range. He never gave me enough time to line him up with my right forearm and trigger my other Taser.

There’s published research that proves to get really good at anything you have to practice it approximately two million times. One reason why athletes who start their training as kids are so good is that they get to two million repetitions earlier than guys who start training later. It was very clear that Sven knew how to use his spear. He had gotten through his two million repetitions a long time ago.

The problem was, I hadn’t. I’ve never trained with a spear before. As part of my martial arts training I’ve worked with bo staffs. Unfortunately for me, I hadn’t trained enough with the staff to quite reach the two million repetition mark, and a staff isn’t the same as a spear.

I felt a tap on my right sleeve and then my left shoulder. If it hadn’t been for my invulnerable jacket, he would have disabled my arms. If I didn’t finish this quick, Sven was going to kill me. It was time to get Samson involved.

I knew what Samson was planning to do; there was only one smart move. He was going to let me kill as many Jotunn as possible until I got killed or mortally wounded. Then he’d attack before the trolls could grab my gifts. My plan was to get a wound that only looked mortal.

I started raising my arms to protect my head and neck instead of my lower body. I did this slowly. I didn’t want Sven or Samson to think I was throwing the fight. My hands were only three inches out of position when he thrust his spear into the right side of my groin, laying my thigh open to the bone. An arc of arterial blood shot from my femoral artery. As I fell, he got me in the other thigh.

I watched from the ground, Obex held high to protect my chest and head. As Sven raised his spear for the killing strike, a flaming arrow took him in the head. He collapsed with a look of triumph on his face. He died happy.

The night sky was full of flaming arrows.

The average adult male with a severed femoral artery will pass out from blood loss in thirty seconds, and will be dead in three minutes. I brought up the spells I’d prepared to heal my thighs. My spell bar told me I’d use up two-thirds of my soul. “Akeitso-may.”

Suddenly, there were crows everywhere. “Sanguinis.” I pulled myself up to my knees. I hadn’t seen them change, but they had to be Jotunn.

My arms were shaking and my eyes wouldn’t focus. I ripped through my entire drum of buckshot at the birds in the sky and didn’t hit a single one. I pulled out the first of the energy gel packs I’d stashed in my pockets, bit it open, and sucked it down. Once that one was empty, I bit into the next until they were all gone. The goo tasted like shit but it stopped the shakes.

Even with a shotgun, it’s difficult to hit a bird in flight that’s jinking every few seconds. It’s almost impossible with an arrow. Samson’s men were very good. There were two crows on the ground with flaming arrows through them. I sent my helmet away. The cool night breeze on my face felt like a lover’s kiss. A couple of dozen men in modern looking, metallic full body armor—most of them armed with compound bows came into view. I could hear more men out of sight; my best guess was that Samson had brought close to two hundred Oath Brothers.

“Victor!” Samson’s armor lit up the night. He was as big as he sounded, about six five and built like a comic book super hero. He had same glowing ‘knight in shining armor’ sword and shield Aidan had tried to give me. He sheathed his sword as he walked up to me.

He had Mediterranean coloring, short curly black hair, and bushy eyebrows. He was as good looking as me, but was so hyper-masculine that he could have been a gay porn star. The length of his five o’clock shadow let me hope he needed laser hair treatments on his back. He looked pissed.

I figured that this would be a good time to switch out my empty magazine for a thirty-two round drum of stabilized slugs.

I wasn’t looking forward to what was coming next. I got off the ground, slowly enough that I didn’t get light headed. When I got fully upright, he backhanded me. I was prepared. I twisted my head and upper body away from his hand to decrease the impact. Unfortunately, he was wearing a metal gauntlet; the slap stung like a bitch. I felt my lip split, and the right side of my face go numb. I spit blood, and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

I met his dark brown eyes. “I deserved that.” I forced myself to play nice and gave my best attempt at an ingratiating smile. “Thanks for coming to help.”

“Victor Paladin, you are a disgrace to your gifts. I call you unworthy of your station and a traitor to Our Lord, Jehovah. I charge you with blasphemy. Michael, I ask for judgment!”

Well, that didn’t sound good. “What are you talking about, Bill, and what’s up with the formal language?”

I heard B’s voice, “Vic, he wants to kill you, but he needs to get permission first. He just asked for permission.”

B walked toward us. He was accompanied by two other angels—they were too pretty to be anything else. One was a couple inches taller than B, and looked like a perfect, living, breathing, blond-haired, blue-eyed Ken doll. The other had brown hair, and was about my size. He looked like a super model who hadn’t been able to take a good dump for weeks. I instinctively thought ‘bean-counter’.

Ken started talking, “William Samson, do you truly believe this man is unworthy? Is there no doubt in your mind?”

“Michael, this man is unworthy and I have no doubt.”

I raised my hand. “Does it matter what I think?”

B replied. “You got two choices—accept Samson’s verdict and let him execute you, or dispute his accusation of blasphemy in a trial by combat.”

“As the challenged party, do I get to choose the weapons? How about Supersoakers or Nerf guns?” Only B grinned. It was a tough crowd.

Michael spoke, “Victor, you will use your gifts, and he will use his.”

I turned to Samson. “Hey man, I understand why you’re angry. You got good reason. But no harm, no foul. Because of me, six Jotunn are dead, and it doesn’t look like you guys took any casualties. We don’t have to do this.”

“You gambled with Jehovah’s gifts, blasphemer. We ARE going to do this.”

“Victor!” It was Mina. The rest of our group was behind her.

“Samael!” Andi made a beeline for the bean counter.

Michael acknowledged them with a quietly off-hand, “Be still, mortals!” They all froze in place. Only their eyes could move. Mina’s eyes didn’t look happy. He then turned to me. “There is a valid dispute. Trial by combat is approved.”

“Do I have time to put my helmet back on? What are the rules?”

“Ready yourself Paladin. The trial by combat does not end until one of you has slain the other. The rules are simple: do what you will to defend yourself. I will tell you when to begin.”

I’d hoped for a different outcome. I’d manipulated Samson—put my gifts at risk and insulted him to get him to do what I wanted. Despite the way I treated him, the more I learned about the guy, the more I respected him. You can judge a leader by the quality of his men. His men were impressive; the ambush against the Jotunn had gone perfectly.

I’d hoped that he wasn’t like me, but evidence proved otherwise. I wouldn’t let someone who’d blackmailed me live either. I didn’t want to fight Samson, but I wasn’t surprised I had to.

I called my helmet back and walked out into the middle of the street. I turned to face Samson, Sanguinis ready in my hands.

Samson unsheathed his sword as he walked toward me. He stopped ten feet away.

Michael’s voice was calm, “Begin.”

The Boise Paladin had his sword in his right hand. We both moved at the same time. I dropped down into a squat and fired a three round burst at his left foot. Like I’d hoped, he made a straight arm lunge leading with his right foot. It was basically the same opening move that Sven had used. Hand-to-hand is a lot like chess; there aren’t that many good opening moves.

If I hadn’t dropped, his sword would have gone through my head. His left foot didn’t move. All three of my rounds were on target and punched through his armor, pulping his foot and ankle.

I jumped out of his way as he fell, and then took a few steps back. Samson was on the ground trying to crouch behind his invulnerable shield. The shield wasn’t big enough to cover all of him. I aimed for his head, and when he raised his shield, I blew a hole in his right ankle.

Bill Samson spent his entire life mastering the sword and shield. Against any opponent with traditional edged weapons, I’m sure he was death on two legs. Unfortunately for him, he’d brought a blade to a gun fight.

He couldn’t get to me, but I could get to him. Whenever he covered his head, he left his lower body open, and vice-versa. Samson was quick and he never panicked. I had to fire nineteen times—as fast as I could aim and pull the trigger—until he stopped moving.

In the end, Samson made the best of a bad deal. He would have lived longer if he hadn’t sent his gifts away, but only a little longer. As soon as he did, I put three rounds through the center of his breastplate. I would have been disappointed in him if he’d left me his sword and shield. Though his slug-riddled body looked peaceful, I knew from personal experience that paladins could be healed of horrendous wounds. It would be foolish to give him a second chance. A short burst on full auto reduced his head to a bloody smear.

I switched out my magazine—another drum of stabilized slugs, and studied the Boise Oath Brothers surrounding me. They weren’t pleased. I didn’t think they’d attack; Samson had died in a heavenly sanctioned duel, but it couldn’t hurt to have Sanguinis fully loaded and ready to go.

I willed my helmet back into storage. I knew it was just in my head, but with it off I felt like I could finally breathe. I turned to Michael. He looked like a football fan whose team had lost the Super Bowl. “What now?”

“Go back to Salt Lake City, Victor Paladin. Your fate awaits you.”

“Victor!” It was Mina. She was running toward me. When I turned back, Michael was gone—leaving B and Samael behind.

Mina came up and her hand hovered over the swollen side of my face. “Are you okay?” My face hadn’t hurt until she asked; now it hurt like hell. I checked my soul bar to see what it would take to heal myself. It was another five percent of my soul. “Akeitso-may.”

Mina still wasn’t used to magic. I saw her eyes widen as the swelling on my face went down. She smiled, “That’s a useful talent.” She turned to look at Samson’s body. Again she asked, “Are you okay?”

Before I could respond, I felt a pat on my shoulder. It was B. “Vic, I got to hand it to you. You got a knack for ending friends and influencing people. You’re now on two archangel’s shit lists.” He turned to Mina and offered his hand. “Hi! I’m B, Vic’s guardian angel. You’re Mina. I know so much about you.”

Mina blinked as she took his hand. “We’ve never met. Don’t you mean, ‘You’ve heard so much about me’?”

B leered, “I said ‘know’ not ‘heard’, honey. I’m a guardian angel. I’ve been watching you for a long time and I have to tell you the view’s been good.”

You could always depend on B to be an asshole. Mina’s face flushed. I pushed myself between them and put my arm around her waist. “It’s okay, Mina. He’s just a wannabe stalker. He doesn’t have the equipment to be anything else.”

He started laughing like we were friends. “Oh man, hit me where it hurts.”

Mina nudged me aside, pulled her hand from B’s grip, made a finger, and poked it into B’s chest. “I don’t give a crap if you have equipment or not, but if your job is to look out for Vic, you need to do it better!” B’s mouth gaped in surprise for a second and then he grinned. I guess he liked a challenge. I was more affected than he was; for the first time in my life, I felt the embarrassment of being defended by a woman.