Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (40 page)

“And we will not learn anything unless we move forward. We do not have the time or resources to be overly cautious.”

“So me and mine need to roll up, pay for your progress
with our blood?” James shouted.

Dorne stood up. “Diana, a moment please.”

I stood up as well and grabbed James by the arm. “Come with me.”

We left the tent as the two began to talk, their voices low but heated. I didn’t envy him the discussion. She was set, fervently so, on seeing this through and backing it with a shrewd decision. It wasn’t wrong per say, I’d made the same call several times before, but it was risky.

James jerked out of my grip. “Don’t tell me to calm down, McDane.” He tore a cigarette out of a pack and lit it, his hand shaking as he worked the lighter.

I rubbed my mouth. “How are you doing, James?”

The look he gave me could have stripped paint. “Don’t give me that shit! Don’t try and coddle up to me before we head into that fucking place!”

I held up my hands. He was taking Sam’s death harder than I’d thought. It was never easy seeing a friend die, worse when it was as pointless and grotesque as it had been back in the orchard.

Worse, I couldn’t say anything to make any of this better. Dorne was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but the rest of us weren’t nearly as protected. James would be next to defenseless against anything that laughed off bullets, Arne might as well be a sitting duck, and me, hell, I’d just be able to rattle off the genus of whatever was eating me.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “This is just a bit much for me. I’m ready to be back home where things make sense.”

“I know this isn’t going to be much solace,” I said. “But things don’t make much more sense back home than they do here or in Africa or anywhere else in the world.”

He looked around, taking in the island. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Listen, I thought the same thing you did. Everywhere you go there’s something scary, something that wants to eat you or do unimaginable things. Things of power that you couldn’t understand let alone defend yourself against.” I shrugged. “Here’s the thing, it’s like that back home too. You take someone who’s had to live in the Congo all their life and they’d be just as scared back in Mare as we would in their home. Because it’s unfamiliar.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “Mare ain’t nothing like the Congo.”

“Really? If you had a friend from out of town come into Mare, what would you warn him away from?”

He shrugged. “Nothing really.”

I nodded. “So if he wanted to go and see FayTown, you’d take him?”

“Oh, h
ell no.”

“And if he wanted to see a show on the East side of Sterling?”

He frowned. “Okay, I see your point.”

“If he wanted to buy a steak from Benson’s but wanted to pay with cash instead of silver? Tried to stiff Dirty Dan? Hell, if he wanted to see anything your boss gets up to in that big ole building of his?”

He was thinking, I could see it. “I just don’t think of Mare being dangerous. The whole U.S. is less scary than this place.”

“Because you live there,” I said. “You’re good at what you do and you make
a point of knowing all its quirks. It’s a big world James, and none of it is out to get
you
. It’s out to get something, sure, but not
you
.

“As for the
States, remember we’re the ones with the Coven. We’re the ones with the mad science, with Area 51, and a string of Presidents who make Dracula look like a saint. You think Africa was scary, head up in the Appalachians and find you a snake handling pastor. You think the Congo was bad, head down to New Orleans or Death Valley. Hell, take a stroll through Chicago some time. You don’t like these strange, odd people or their ways, head to Beverly Hills or Park Avenue. There a hell of a lot stranger than anyone we’ve seen. Just do what you’ve always done and you’ll be fine, as fine as anyone else anyway.”

“I’ll do my fucking job,” James said. He’d already worked the cigarette down halfway and was digging out another. “Don’t worry about me.”

Dorne came out of the tent, his face set in a grim frown. “We will be assembling the teams in an hour.”

I shook my head. “I don’t like this.”

“She has a point though,” he said. “We do not have the time to dabble at this.”

James lit his second cigarette from the first. “Fine, but you’d better take care of my guys.”

“Simon!” I said, snapping my finger.

“What?” Dorne asked.

“James, you should take Simon.” James frowned while the Wizard rolled his eyes. “Listen, he’s stable…enough. And he’s a hell of a lot better than having nothing.”

“Fine,” James said, marching off.

“You think that wise?” Dorne asked, watching him go.

“Not particularly,” I said. “But when life give you lemons, make lemonade.” I paused, nodding toward the ten. “What’s going on in there?”

“She wants this done,” he said. “And for good reason. There is at least one craft following our trail.”

“Great,” I said.

Once again, I found myself in a thick jungle, staring down into a blood-filled footprint, Abigail in hand (only without any spellshot) and a sinking feeling in my gut. Seven of James’s men were behind me. They were good guys, smart enough to be scared and tough enough not to show it. James knew how to pick em’.

I placed my boot next to the footprint. It was three times the size of my foot, with longer toes, but other than that was nearly identical. Whatever it belonged to was heavy as hell too, it was a good six inches into the mud.

“Ain’t never seen an animal like that,” one of the guys said. Tim, I think.

“That’s a bigfoot track,” another said, cocking his weapon.

“Now what the fuck is a bigfoot doing out in the middle of the ocean?” a third said.

I held up my hand. “It’s not a bigfoot. Bigfoot doesn’t leave footprints.” I reached out and plucked a tuft of coarse, white fur from a nearby branch.

A crash ahead of us nearly made me jump out of my skin. I motioned for the rest to keep quiet and hunkered down. Then I nestled Abigail into my palm and moved forward, heading in the direction of the sound.

The jungle was silent as we snuck through it, magnifying every step, every twig broken underfoot. Ahead, I could faintly hear something, a faint rustling. As if something was rooting around.

We broke through the growth and came face to face with a whole lotta nothing. It was rocky and open with only low jungle growth and almost no trees. A cliff stretched up the side, water trickling from a small waterfall at the top. A shallow pool had formed at the bottom.

But there was no sight of anything, bigfoot or else.

I made my way over to the pool and reached down into the water. It was clear, and more importantly, circulating back into the small cave. I licked a finger, savoring the taste of the spring.

“Guess we’ve found our water,” I said.

One of the men shouted. I spun around, Abigail ready to fire. The tree line was moving. A figured stepped out of the trees, holding up a hand.

I holstered Abigail. “Damn it, Arne, you about got shot! They didn’t program any hunting etiquette into that head of yours?”

He made his way over to us, his men following. “We were in pursuit of a man. I did not wish to alert him to our presence.”

“You saw someone? Here?”

“I believe so-”

A roar ripped through the jungle interrupting him. One of the men fired off into the woods. Before I could yell at him for being a moron, I realized how correct he was.

A great pale ape had shouldered its way through the thick woods, patches of white fur hanging from his sagging skin. It stood on two massive legs, reaching up tall enough to nearly stand over the smaller trees. Thin, knotted muscle strained as the creatures pushed aside one of said trees, snapping it as if it were a toothpick.

I didn’t think about the fact that I was staring down a Tibetan Yeti not twenty feet away, I aimed and pulled the triggers on both barrels. The scatter shot slapped against its fur like hail, with about as much effect.

The yeti picked up a boulder and hurled it through the air. The men scattered as it landed in with us, a two ton missile of stone that would have crushed a man like a bug. We all began to fire as the thing charged toward us.

Suddenly, a pink beam of light arched through the air, slicing through the Yeti’s skull. The creature faltered, falling to one knee, blood running from its nose. It let out a frustrated growl, then fell in a heap.

“What the hell was that?” I asked.

“It looked like Diana’s weapon,” Arne said, scanning the jungle. “She should not be anywhere near us though.”

“Look!” one of the men shouted.

I followed his finger and saw a figure perched on a boulder. He was heavily muscled, dressed in a smart brown uniform of some type of thick wool. His white hair was close to his scalp, a sort of military cut, with a single braid wound down the side of his head. His brow was heavy and looked like it could crack cement.

In his arms he was holding a strange rife, made all of a pale, ashen wood. Instead of a barrel, it had a long cylinder of smooth, pink crystal.

As he saw our attention turn toward him, he fired.

A beam cut through the shoulder of the man next to me. Another sliced through a man’s ribs.

“Get down!” I shouted.

We dove for cover as the beams sliced through the air. Whatever weapon he had, it wasn’t as powerful as Lambros’ but it sure was getting the job done.

“Who the hell is that?” one of the men shouted.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said. “But it doesn’t look like he’s in the negotiating mood.”

I loaded in two shells. “If anyone can get a shot, try! Don’t worry about hitting him, just try and provide some cover fire!”

I dove around the rock, making a run for it. The men started firing as I did. I dodged two beams, jumping behind a rock just as a third clipped the top of the stone, leaving it a glowing puddle of molten
rock. One blast, then another, assaulted the other side of the stone. I could feel the heat building up through it.

Maybe it
was
as powerful as Lambros’ weapon.

I peeked over the side and fired a blast.
It ricocheted off the side of the boulder, inches away from the figure.

He snarled and reached into a pocked in his uniform. He drew out two glowing, green orbs and threw them on the ground in front of him. I felt the air pop as a screen of iridescent light appeared before him.

My eyes widened as the men fired against it, their bullets bouncing off as if it were steel. He had a force field! An honest to god force field!

He caught sight of me, trained his rifle and fired another beam. It passed through the field, and just missed my face. I ducked around and cursed.

I held up a hand. “Hold, Hollow Worlder! We mean no harm.”

A beam slid in between my fingertips in reply, singing my skin. I yanked my hand back again and cursed harder. A centimeter in either direction and Al would’ve had to kiss his dream of being a pianist goodbye.

A glint of metal caught my eye. Arne was peeking over the boulder across from me. A beam lanced from our assailant, catching him in the side of the head. It bounced off, barely even scoring the metal.

“Stay down!” he hollered.

Then the robot hopped over the boulder, another beam landing against his chest. It burned a hole straight through his vest, but otherwise had no effect. He charged the field of light, passing through with no problem.

The figure snarled, dropping his weapon. He jumped from the rock and drew a heavy cudgel from his side. I cringed as he swung it at Arne.

And my jaw dropped as he slid around the blow. The figure attacked again, and this time Arne blocked it, the weapons cracking as it met his arm. Before the attacker could react, Arne wound back and leveled a haymaker, my eyes barely able to track the blur as it whistled through the air.

Cannon fire would have done less damage. The figure’s caved in, his head swinging back. I heard his jaw shatter, his spine snap, the skin of his throat ripping as his head nearly detached.

I watched in shock as the man fell to the ground, a sloppy, mutilated mess.

“Damn it,” I said, joining the machine. “I’d have liked to
have asked a question or two.”

The robot didn’t address me. He pulled a
handkerchief from inside his jacket and wiped the blood from his knuckles.

Finally, he said, “I did not see how the situation would allow that. We were in danger.”

“Looked like you handled yourself just fine,” I said. “Where in the hell did that come from?”

“Mr. Aberland prepared me for many dangers,” he said, inspecting his fingers.

I ignored him and gathered all the men around, beginning to direct them. “Radio back to camp,” I told the guy who’d drawn the short straw and had to carry around the communication equipment. “We’re making camp for the night but first thing tomorrow, we’re heading back.”

Arne placed his
handkerchief back in his coat pocket. “Dr. Lambros intended us to chart the whole of the island. We cannot turn back until our job is complete.”

“Lambros can kiss my ass!” I said to him. Then to the men, “Get the camp together, I want half of us on watch at all times.” I pointed up at the cliff. “I want a rifle up there. As soon as day breaks, we’re heading back.”

“Virgil, I must advise against this,” Arne said.

I held up my hands. “Arne, shut the hell up. I could care less. Look at what just attacked us within a ten second period. All bets are off on this.”

“What is it?” asked one of the men, nudging the body.

I sighed, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “That men, is why we’re turning back. You have just seen a solider of the First Men, the oldest army the earth’s ever seen, a citizen of the Hollow Earth. That boys, is a Neanderthal.”

We sat around the campfire. I was inspecting the Neanderthal’s rifle while the men slept. Its barrel, if it could be called that, was cracked, its stock warped and split.

Arne, much to my annoyance, was trying to hold a conversation.

“Have you deciphered how it works?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not even a bit. It’s not magic, it’s science, way beyond what I know. Of course, if you hadn’t killed him, maybe we’d know more.”

“I do not understand why you are so upset. I killed an animal.”

“An ugly one too,” said one of the men. I couldn’t remember his name.