Morpheus Road 03 - The Blood (30 page)

Zoe ignored the comment and said, "It's good that the
valley is narrow. And closed. There's only one direction an attack can come from."

Marsh asked, "Do the Guardians still want my head?"

"Yes," was Zoe's honest answer. "But we have other things to worry about."

"So they're willing to defend the Threshold?" Ree asked. They had reached the top of the platform.

"There is your answer," Zoe said, pointing back toward the valley.

From the lofty vantage point they could see over the top of the stand of palm trees and out to the majestic gorge they had just traveled through.

"Oh yeah," Coop said with surprise and relief.

The valley floor was crowded with hundreds of Zoe's Guardians.

"They understand that one way or another, this will be the last stand," Zoe said. "They are ready."

"What's your plan?" Press asked.

"It isn't complicated. We must do the opposite of what we did at the Rift and keep the invaders from going through."

She pointed into the light of the Threshold, and stood staring. Mesmerized.
"Is that really the way into heaven?" she asked.

"No," Press answered quickly. "That's the entrance. The way in is much more difficult."

"Ooh, deep," Coop said.

"Every spirit that exists should eventually step through this portal," Press said. "If they don't, it's by their own choosing."

"
And you guys are the judges," Coop said.

"Hey, we don't make the rules," Press said quickly. "We just reflect the desires of mankind. What's happening here is unprecedented. It's nothing less than a battle between philosophies."

"Between good and evil," Marsh said.

"Not exactly," Press replied. "Mankind has always defined itself. We are who we want to be. Spirits are sent to the Blood because they don't accept the wishes of mankind. But if they succeed in overrunning Solara, the definition of what is good and what is evil will change because they will change it."

"
And life turns upside down," Coop said. "Trying to be good might land you in the Blood."

"We will not let that happen," Zoe said with total con
fidence. "Our defenses will begin beyond the line of trees. I will also commit several Guardians with spirit swords to stay back and form a second defense at the base of the stairs, should some of the attackers make it through. I would pre
fer if you all remain here."

"Whoa, no. I'm going to fight," Coop protested.

"And you will get the chance," Zoe said darkly. "But here."

Coop didn't argue. He knew the odds that the Guardians were facing.

Zoe stood facing the others, looking to each in turn. "I am proud to have known you all," she said. "I will fight in your honor. And my father's."

She made a point of not looking to Marsh.

"Good luck, Zoe," Ree said.

Zoe gave them a quick nod, then turned and hurried down the stairs to rejoin the Guardians.

"She doesn't trust me," Marsh said.

"What did you expect?" Coop asked. "You helped the bad guy."

"But—"

"Hey, you don't have to convince me," Coop said quickly. "I get it."

Ree said, "So now what do we do?"

Press answered. "We wait."

The valley was calm and quiet, in spite of the hundreds of Guardians who had fanned out in front of the line of trees at the base of the Threshold.

Marsh wandered about the platform. He glanced behind the arch to see nothing but the end of the valley. The Threshold had no depth. Gazing through from behind, he could see the valley spread out before him. Looking through from the front, there was only the warm light of Solara. Marsh walked to the front of the arch, in the dead center, and stared inside.

"Maybe we should make a run for it," Coop said as he walked up to stand beside him.

"It's tempting," Marsh said.

"Ah, we'd probably get spit back out like a couple of underweight fish."

The two stood silently.

"Heck of a summer this turned out to be," Coop finally said.

Marsh smiled and shrugged.

"That last day of school seems like such a long time ago," Coop added.

"Yeah," Marsh agreed. "A couple of lifetimes. Ours." They both let the impact of those words hang for a moment, then . . .

"I'm sorry, Marsh," Coop said.

"For what?" Marsh asked, bristling. "For not protecting me like you always do?"

"No. For coming down on you for living in the past. If there's anybody guilty of that, it's me."

"How do you figure that?"

"Think about it. One of us didn't want to grow up."

"Yeah, and?" Marsh said skeptically.

"
And the other one wanted to build model rockets." Marsh shot Coop a quick, surprised look.

Coop added, "What you've been through these past few years? I couldn't have handled it. Or I would have dealt by causing trouble. But you? You took it and learned . . . and kept moving. You know what I think? You could probably step through this Threshold right now and they'd welcome you with open arms. Why don't you give it a shot?"

Marsh shook his head. "Nah, I'll wait till I get the invite."

"See? That's like . . . wise. I'm ready to just run through and take my chances."

The two chuckled.

"You're my brother, Marsh. You always will be no matter how much we go at each other."

Marsh smiled and nodded sincerely.

"You know something else?" Coop added. "I think all that's happened, to us I mean, I think there's a reason for it."

"Yeah," Marsh said, scoffing. "Seriously bad luck."

"No. This wasn't some random accident. Damon's sword was hidden for two thousand years. He could have chosen anybody to find it. But he didn't. He chose you. And me. And your mother and Ennis and everybody else who got sucked into this nightmare. I don't think that was an acci
dent. I think the Watchers are doing a little more than Press admits."

"Why would they do that?" Marsh asked.

"Because I think they believe we can save them."

Marsh snapped a surprised look to Coop.

Coop followed with,
"
And one more thing. Maybe the most important thing."

"What's that?"

"I don't care what you say. To me, you'll always be Ralph."

Marsh couldn't help but smile.

The moment was broken by the sound of a horn. A signal. Press and Ree ran up to join Marsh and Coop at the
mouth of the Threshold. They stood together to look out over the valley.

"What was that?" Coop asked.

"The call to battle," Ree answered. "Something's about to happen."

"So who's attacking?" Marsh asked. "Damon or Brennus?"

The answer came seconds later. At the opposite end of the valley, several hundred yards beyond where the Guard
ians were ready to make their stand, the air in the center of the gorge began to ripple and move.

"Whoever it is," Marsh said. "They're coming."

Moving like a massive tidal wave, dozens of spirits erupted from the swirl of color that stretched across the valley. Their arrival point was more than a hundred yards from the first line of Guardians who stood nervously waiting for them. It was a gap that closed quickly. The flood of spirits moved ahead to make room for the thousands of others who arrived behind them.

"Brennus," Marsh said.

"How can you tell?" Coop asked.

"It's random. They aren't organized. Damon wouldn't be so reckless. Those are definitely the spirits from the Blood."

Most of the spirits were armed with simple weapons . . . swords, clubs, axes, and cudgels. They raised them high, screaming wildly, ready to tear into the defenders.

"So many," Ree said, barely above a whisper.

They kept coming, pouring out of the fog in mind-numbing volume.

"They're fighting for their lives," Press said. "For their futures. They've escaped from the Blood and want to make sure they'll never get sent back. That's strong motivation."

"We cannot stop them all," Ree said, putting into words what everyone was thinking.

The first wave of spirits hit the Guardians, and the may
hem began. There was nothing creative about their tac
tics. They fought like animals, using their weapons to try and beat a path through the Guardians and make it to the Threshold of Solara.

The Guardians kept the spirit swords up front. The brave defenders slashed back at their attackers, destroying them by the dozens. But the spirits kept coming. And coming. Those that broke through the
first line of defense were met by many other Guardians with conventional weapons. The battles that followed were vicious. Though no injury could end a spirit's existence, the pain was every bit as intense as if it were a battle being fought in the Light. It took incred
ible courage for the Guardians to stand their ground and fight back. Whenever possible they would drag one of the spirits back toward the front, where a Guardian with a spirit sword would end them. More often a battle ended with one fighter or the other falling in a daze, then fighting back the pain in order to heal and continue on.

It was a low-tech, violent, mutual massacre.

"This can't go on," came a familiar voice.

Maggie Salinger had arrived on the platform. She ran to Coop and threw her arms around him.

"You can't be here," he scolded. "Go back to your vision."

"Not with this going on," she argued.

Coop glanced back into the Threshold, then to Press.

"Help me out here," he called. "If there's anybody who deserves to enter Solara, it's her."

"I know her story," Press said.

"She suffered for years because my grandfather . . . Wait, how could you know her story?"

Press shrugged.

"Then, let her go through," Coop begged.

"No!" Maggie argued. "I'm not going anywhere."

"It's heaven, Maggie," Coop said. "They call it Solara. You belong there."

Maggie gave a quick look into the Threshold, but turned to Coop and said, "But where I
want
to be is here with you."

The Guardians who had stayed back as the last defense tightened up. They formed a line at the bottom of the stone stairs in anticipation of the spirits who were sure to break through. Most held black spirit swords.

Blood spirits continued to pour from the swirling mist.

"Is this how it's going to be?" Ree asked Press. "Because they have the greater numbers, they can change the course of
h
uman existence . . . no matter how wrong-minded they may be?"

"Mankind chooses its own course," Press said. "There's nothing I can do, or the spirits of Solara can do, to change that."

"I'm going down there," Coop announced, pulling the spirit sword from his belt.

"Don't!" Maggie begged.

"Why not? The least I can do is take some of those guys down. What are they going to do? Kill me?"

He'd started to move down the steps, when Marsh called out.
"Wait! Look!"

He pointed out to the valley.

"Yeah, we see it. The Guardians can't hold out much longer."

The leading edge of the spirits from the Blood was about to break through the first line of defense. Hundreds were being destroyed, but there were many hundreds more to take their place.

"No!" Marsh yelled. "Look beyond. To the valley."

"I see it," Ree declared. "On both sides."

Two more gateways between visions were materializing. One to either side of the colorful fog that was disgorging the Blood spirits.

"Seriously?" Coop complained. "How many more can they send?"

To the far right of the valley, behind the battling spirits from the Blood, a helicopter appeared from out of the newly created fog. It was a military helicopter that blasted out of the mist, moving fast and low.

"It's a nightmare," Ree said with a gasp.

A gunner was poised inside the fuselage door, ready to open fire.

"This is about to get very ugly," Coop declared, and ran down the stairs.

The helicopter swooped past the battle, then gained alti
tude and flew out over the far rim of the canyon before cir
cling back to begin its attack run. If the spirits fighting on the valley floor were aware of the incoming marauder, they didn't react or change their tactics.

Ree put her arm around her son's shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said.

"Don't be," she said. "We are very small players in this drama."

She hugged him tight and stared at the battle below, ready for the final attack to begin.

The helicopter gunner opened fire . . .

. . . not at the Guardians but at the spirits from the Blood.

"Whoa, wait!" Marsh exclaimed.

The spirits scattered. Some fell, others used their tempo
rarily fallen comrades as shields. The clatter of the machine
gun echoed across the valley as the attack continued and bodies fell. The Guardians used the opportunity to regroup and tighten their defenses.

A loud explosion rocked the ground, followed by an eruption of fire and dirt that spewed from the dead center of the Blood spirit army. Bodies flew. Spirits scattered.

Coop came charging back up the stairs. "It's the tank!" he declared. "From the first Rift!"

Rolling from the mist on the left side of the valley was the vintage military attack tank that the Guardians had encountered when they were guarding the Rift in Ree's vision. Only this time, the Guardians weren't the target.

"What is going on?" Ree asked.

Her answer came in the form of a battle cry, and the sight of hundreds of mounted soldiers erupting from the
swirling fog to either side of the valley. Armed with swords, lances, and maces, they charged to attack the Blood spirits from either side.

"This is it," Marsh said calmly. "The battle he's waited centuries for."

Leading the charge from the right, on horseback, was Damon. Holding the poleax up high, his dark armor gleam
ing in the sun, the squat warrior led his soldiers to war.

The two-pronged attack divided the spirits from the Blood. Rather than charge straight ahead at the Guardians
with full force, they now had to battle on three sides. And against enemies from above. The helicopter continued to circle back and strafe the thousands of the Blood spirits as they appeared out of the fog.

Without having to repel the full force of the Blood spir
its, the Guardians were able to regroup and make a more
effective stand. A handful of spirits made it all the way through the gauntlet and past the trees, but they were quickly snuffed out by the Guardians who waited at the base of the steps to the Threshold.

"Divide and conquer," Coop said. "They don't know which way to turn. Damon knows what he's doing."

Damon fought from atop his black horse, slashing down with the poleax, wiping out multiple spirits with every swing. He fought with anger . . . and confidence. He spun his horse every which way, never standing still long enough for a spirit to do any damage. Between the crashing hooves and the swinging blade, no spirit survived an encounter with the poleax of Damon of Epirus.

The influx of Blood spirits spewing into the valley didn't slow down.

The tank turned its gun toward the mist from which they were appearing . . . and fired. The shell hit directly at their point of arrival, exploding on contact, throwing them into such disarray that it significantly slowed the steady stream of reinforcements. The confusion and mayhem it caused was enough to keep each of the battlefronts under the control of Damon's soldiers and the Guardians.

The entire valley floor was turned into a killing field. Bodies were everywhere. Though most returned to fight again, others weren't so lucky and fell to the black swords before they could recover.

Damon directed his troops from horseback, pointing out groups of spirits that were vulnerable. His soldiers responded quickly and efficiently.

"It's everything he wanted it to be," Marsh said in awe.

"And what happens if he wins his battle?" Ree asked. "If he no longer wants to attack the Light, what could he have promised his army to get them to fight?"

"Hopefully he told them the truth," Marsh answered.

"They're fighting for their lives as much as the Guardians are."

"Or maybe he'll still go for the Light," Coop threw in. Nobody responded to the ominous possibility.

Though Damon's soldiers, and the Guardians, were fighting valiantly and effectively, the battle had been going on for too long.

"They're getting tired," Press pointed out. "Some can barely lift the swords."

While the Guardians and soldiers had the upper hand on the spirits, the spirits still had the superior numbers. With each spirit that was destroyed, its place was taken by a new, fresh fighter.

Even Damon was slowing down. Where at first he had been spinning his horse and slashing like a crazed tornado, he now circled the battle, occasionally sweeping down with the poleax to destroy an unprotected spirit, but no longer engaging in combat.

And more spirits kept flooding in through the fog.

"He had his moment," Press said. "But he's losing it."

They watched soberly as the three-pronged defense weakened, allowing the spirits from the Blood to focus back on the Guardians . . . and the Threshold.

"All it did was prolong the inevitable," Ree said soberly.

At the foot of the steps the second line of Guardians had to battle an increasing number of Blood spirits who made it through.

One spirit came crashing through the brush on horse
back headed directly for three Guardians, who were ready and waiting for him.

"Stop!" Marsh shouted down to the Guardians. "Let him go!"

The invader was Damon, looking dazed and barely able to stay on his horse.

Reluctantly the Guardians backed off and allowed Damon to ride up the steps.

"Should we be letting this happen?" Coop asked ner
vously. "I mean . . . the Threshold."

"Let him come up," Press said with confidence.
"
A single spirit cannot take down Solara, even if he was foolish enough to try."

Damon's horse looked worse than he did. It was covered with sweat and breathing hard. Its skin was crisscrossed with the slashes from many swords. The dark horse hobbled to the top of the platform and, with a tired exhale, stood in place obediently.

Several Guardians had trailed him and stood behind the horse with spirit swords at the ready in case Damon did anything foolish.

Press, Ree, Cooper, Maggie, and Marsh faced him. Damon stared into the light of the Threshold, taking an extended, longing look.

"That is one journey I will never be making," he finally said with sad acceptance.

"You kept your word and fought Brennus," Marsh said.

"But to what end?" Damon shot back.

Cooper grabbed his sword, ready to protect Marsh if Damon lashed out with the poleax.

"This is a war that cannot be won," Damon added, then chuckled ironically. "I suppose in hindsight it was not wise to make this my one and only battle."

"You led your army bravely," Marsh said. "You don't have anything more to prove."

Damon looked down to the fighting in the distance.

"A noble effort that ultimately was for naught," Damon said wistfully.

"It's not over," Ree said.

"But soon," he warned. "Look down there. The spirits
from the Blood cannot be held back. They will break through and begin their final assault of the Threshold."

"I don't believe that," Marsh snapped at him. "There must be something more we can do. You're the genius gen
eral. Come up with something!"