Histories of the Void Garden, Book 1: Pyre of Dreams (53 page)

It was
unthinkable. He wondered if Tiernan had known, but he supposed that
even he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to bring so small a force
to bear on a beast of the void. They had a platoon, Six .50 caliber
machine gunners and the drones. He looked down the line towards
Tiernan’s platoon, and saw that Tiernan was running across the lawn
towards him. Clearly he hadn’t known. There was a gust of wind, the
beast rearing up further, pushing out of the rubble with its hind
legs, then it lunged forward, its front claws slamming into the
earth not forty foot from the front line of the platoons.

The earth
split, the driveway cracking and buckling. These were surefooted
men and women, and many of them stumbled. Tiernan hurdled over a
jagged ramp of concrete, sliding to home in front of Toan.

“We need to
leave.” Toan yelled.

Tiernan shook
his head, his eyes filled with fury, “There’s cameras on us. We
need to take out its legs, feast on his carcass and pickle his
fucking heads in brine.” He looked behind him, “How did she get her
hands on a beast of the void?”

Toan unhooked
his satellite phone from his hip, called in the orders to the rear
gunners. He grabbed Tiernan’s arm before he had a chance to return
to his platoon, “Did you see the girl?”

“Girl? You saw
Stanwick?”

Toan shook his
head, “Up there,” He pointed, “There’s a little girl, riding
him.”

Tiernan
laughed. “The tongues are wagging. Little shits messing with your
head, remember?”

He didn’t watch
Tiernan return to his troops. His eyes were back on the beast. He
remembered. En masse, the delvers communicated more directly with
the minds of their hosts. That girl though; he was sure she was
real. He hadn’t even seen her until Lieutenant Royse had pointed
her out.

He heard the
machine gunners open fire, all six of them aiming for the front
left leg, up near the torso. Suddenly the air was filled with the
sound of screaming. Toan thought at first that perhaps this was the
chatter of the tongues, the beast lashing out with visions of
despair. A spray of blood hit him, boiling hot, molten, pouring
easily through the fabric of his uniform, eating into the skin of
his chest and neck. His instinct was to dive to the ground and
roll, but this only served to spread the burning mess further so
that his whole upper body roared with the painful fires.

Kadalynn picked
up Toan by his legs and dragged him backwards, retreating with the
majority of the front line, but the machine gun fire continued, and
an arterial gush of the beast’s blood caught her on her legs. With
the noise and force of a landslide, the beast lunged forward, its
reptilian head jabbing fast, mouth wide, one of it’s teeth shearing
cleanly through the body of the soldier to Kadalynn’s left. She
dropped Toan and dove towards towards the girl’s torso. Kadalynn’s
legs seared with agony and her instinct was to feast on the girl,
but the bitch cried for help. Can’t eat a comrade when they’re
crying for aid. She grabbed the girl’s hand and made towards Toan.
There was a strong breeze, the snap of jaws, a whimper, and her
load was suddenly too light. She threw the severed arm down-field,
grabbed Toan, and ran as hard as she could, hoping that she could
feed them both before more trouble came.

Tiernan’s platoon
faired no better. Three of his front line had gone down with the
first hit of blood, the scalding clots hitting them full in the
face. They had choked and thrashed about, then in three quick
thrusts, their bodies were lanced through and scooped up by the
beak of the beast’s birdlike head. The head cocked back on its long
neck, and the bodies tumbled to their end. It was so fast. That was
what bothered Tiernan more than anything. He remembered the
Mythologue. When it came to the beasts of the void, he had a very
different perspective from most members of the battalion. He had
been one of the worst beasts himself. He had been mighty, cunning
and ravenous, but he couldn’t have been that fast.

Stephanie looked
through Dannum’s eyes, and Dannum looked through hers. Always a
step ahead. He could see the soldiers movements before they had
even thought of them, and he was there with his beak, or his teeth.
Stephanie closed her eyes to it as best she could, but that didn’t
stop his torrential emotions, his wave of euphoria as he swallowed,
or his horrendous hunger for wrath when he bled. She looked beyond,
because she had to; past the now, seeing the retreats, the fades,
the advances of each platoon. Dannum quietened. This was better.
Her way.

With the
chatter and wagging of a million tongues, he unleashed Stephanie’s
vision, flooding the minds of the soldiers with a sea of
possibilities, ghosts of themselves writhing and tangling with one
another. Not even the strongest and oldest of them could withstand
his thrall. With the soldiers blinded by their own uncertainty and
panic, Dannum beat his wings, pouncing forward, soaring over their
heads.

When he landed,
the ruined fields burst apart beneath the heavily armored
Blood-Bastards, the rear half of the battalion lost in the chasm
which opened up around them, the rest of them tumbling fast towards
that same dire drop. Dannum roared and shrieked, his spit sloshing
and foaming as he rammed the armored personnel carriers, hammering
his giant claws down, driving the vehicles into the dirt. He turned
about, each footstep heard and felt for many miles around. His
blood boiled for one man. He knew Tiernan’s mind, the creaking of
millennial gears, the clicking cogs of centuries of arrogance, but
even with his raptorous eyes Dannum saw nothing.

Stanwick stood
up and helped Stephanie to her feet. She led her towards the trough
between Dannum’s shoulders and she pointed towards the abyss that
he had created, “Now, we go down.”

Damian Huntley
is a science fiction author based in County Durham, England where
he lives with his wife and two cats, Schrödinger and Cat
Stevens.

Website:
www.damianhuntley.com

Facebook:
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