The Archimage Wars: Wizard of Abal (2 page)

My sense of direction told me the
hallway ran north and south. Do not ask me how I knew, but I did.
So I chose north, then immediately went south just to be
unpredictable. Besides, I didn’t want to do everything the dinky
dork had told me, how do I really know I could trust him? I mean,
would you trust anyone with a nose that long? For all I know he was
a really ugly version of Pinocchio, and if so, he was telling me
some pretty big lies by the size of his schnoz.

South seemed to be a good choice as I
soon heard voices ahead. I eventually came to an outside courtyard,
where there were many large pillars, and I found I was in some
ruins. It was night time, though the area was well lit with lights
to show off the various features. There were twenty or so people
gathered around and listening to a thin brown-skinned man. He was
gesturing around the large area here and there at various old
markings on the pillars. I recognized the markings as Egyptian
hieroglyphics.

I immediately noticed my clothing
would act as excellent camouflage in these surroundings; I was hip
deep in tourists.

The guide pointed to one row of
markings and explained them to the surrounding tourists, speaking
in heavily accented English. “And here, above the depictions of the
Pharaohs and the god Amun-Ra, we see hieroglyphic writing which
states, ‘To you I have given millions of Jubilees and years of
eternity.’

I scanned the ancient writing and
wondered what the hell the Tour Guide was feeding these folks. The
symbols clearly said, “By my blood you are given
immortality.”

More interesting than the guide's
misinterpretation of the hieroglyphics was my ability to read them
easily! I scanned the surrounding pillars quickly and found I could
read everything in the chamber. Now, what did this mean?

Let’s see; I am some 3,000-year-old
Pharaoh risen from the dead? Fat chance, since I understand what
the guide is saying to the group of tourists, it’s obvious I speak
English fluently. OK, so I am some professor of ancient Egypt who
was knocked on the head and lost his marbles while working in some
newly discovered tomb? Of course, that does not explain Pox. Come
to think of it Pox and I had not been speaking English together; we
had been speaking in Yosin. Now where did that language come from?
I have no clue.

Now this is interesting... one of the
tourists, a tall heavy set man in a cloak which is obviously too
warm for this hot evening, has a strange tattoo on his left cheek
in the shape of a dagger through a heart. Now tattoos are not all
that strange, though one on the face is rare, but this one was
remarkable because it seemed more vibrant than a tattoo, and it was
slightly etched into the skin rather than inked; it was very
striking. So not a tattoo; then I had a name for it, a Glyph. I
noticed the man with the Glyph watching me as well.

Visions of assassins out to get me
came to mind. I could hear Pox’s raspy voice in my head, “They come
for you.”

I considered making a break for it,
but I knew the Glyph marked man was watching me. If I left now I
would be entering one of the empty areas where he could do whatever
it was he meant to do to me. I decided to stay with the main group
of tourists and wait for a better opportunity to lose the Glyph
marked gorilla.

The guide finished his misinformed
spiel and moved the group off through an opening to the East; I
followed, keeping my distance from my watcher. We passed down a
hall as the guide pointed out things of interest to the camera
snapping tourist pack. I tried to blend in, even taking my camera
and snapping a few shots of various doodles on the
walls.

Eventually, he turned us into one of
the open archways and we entered an enclosed area. Just before we
went in, we passed a stoic-faced statue of the Egyptian god,
Amun-Ra, somewhat worse for wear.

My mind was off the cloaked man
briefly as I entered the chamber, so I did not notice when he
suddenly stepped behind the big statue and pushed.

It was not aimed at me, mind you; I
was well past it and into the chamber already when he started his
vandalism.

Now, given his size compared to the
massive statue, it should never have moved, but he seemed to have
little trouble pushing over the solid stone statue. I would have
really been impressed with his strength if I had not been busy
being shocked by the crash as the large statue smashed itself to
pieces on the ground. One really big piece, the upper shoulders and
head of old Amun-Ra, came tumbling in through the wide opening into
the chamber, crushing one unlucky man, and knocking over three
more. The rest of the fallen statue now effectively blocked easy
exit from the chamber.

The man who had done the vandalism
vaulted up onto the fallen statue and then dropped down into the
chamber.

Women were screaming, and a few people
were rushing to the scene of the crushed tourist. In utter shock,
the little Egyptian guide was attempting to pop his eyes out of his
face and nearly succeeding. Forgetting his English, he yelled in
Egyptian, “You fool! What have you done! That was an irreplaceable
artifact! I’ll ...”

I will never know what the guide was
about to do because the cloaked man acted first, his arm swept up
holding a compact UZI machine gun.

I did what any hero would do; I dove
for cover behind the four-foot-high section of stone statue and
covered my head.

The gun went off in a burst of noise
which shattered nerves and bullets which shattered bodies. People
started screaming.

I risked a peek around the end of
Amun’s big stone head, which was currently concealing me, and saw
the cloaked man calmly mowing down the tourists.

A woman in a bright sundress ran for
the blocked door and he stitched a line of red holes up her back.
Her dying body fell forward onto the broken rubble of the fallen
statue.

A brave man tried to dive at the
killer, but the UZI wielding man grabbed him by the shirt front
with his left hand, stopping the hero dead in his tracks. With a
contemptuous sneer, he swiveled the gun around and shot the brave
man in the head before dropping the now limp body.

It was over in seconds.

Two other people, a man and a woman,
were hiding behind the big section of the statue with me. When the
shooting stopped, I looked at the other survivors. The man was
older; around sixty I would guess. His wife was sobbing and looking
hysterical. He looked at me and signaled for me to go around one
end while he took the other. I nodded, it was a plan and any plan
is better than being shot down like trapped animals.

We waited until we heard the sound of
the killer’s footsteps. Depending on which way he came, either the
man with gray hair or I would have to face him while the other
tried to come around from behind using the statue as cover. I lost
the bet and the bastard came my way. I nodded to the other man and
prepared to be the diversion. When the crying woman’s husband
slipped around his end I made my move standing and charging the
gunman who was approaching.

I tried to reach him in a dive which
would take me under the lethal gun and tackle him around the knees.
It would have been nice if it worked, but with a quick leap to the
side, he managed to make me miss. I rolled to my feet in a crouch
expecting to feel the pounding force of the bullets hitting my
chest. Instead, the killer turned slightly and shot the older man
before he could complete his attack from behind. The force of the
bullets jerked his body, and he crumbled to the ground near the end
of the statue and landed in a still heap.

The woman screamed as her husband's
body came to rest nearby. She crawled out toward him and the killer
dispassionately shot her with a short burst from the Uzi. When his
attention returned to me I saw the first sign of emotion from his
face, he smiled and spoke with a satisfied grin, “Now we are alone
at last.”

There I stood, not knowing where to
run... exposed, defenseless. Maybe I should have tried to charge
him again and gone down like a man, but truth be told I froze in my
tracks. I stared at the dark opening of the gun barrel; it looked
like some vicious snake ready to strike. Strewn around me were
twisted bodies which had been living breathing people seconds
before, but were now just slaughtered corpses, soaking the old
stones with new blood.

Anger at the wasted lives gave me
sudden courage, and I snarled, “Well, asshole?”

Surprisingly he just smiled again and
tossed the UZI in the corner of the room next to the bodies of the
elderly couple. “My name is Stewart Hentan, Second. Whom do I have
the pleasure of ending today?”

I played for time. “Why should I tell
you?” I asked.

He frowned at my question. “Fine,
Sivaeral, if you wish to go to your end nameless, that is your
affair, but it won’t stop me from severing your line. I do prefer
my trophies to have a full name... so if you don’t mind? After all,
I have been polite enough to tell you my name and
lineage.”

So, was Sivaeral my last name? I had
no time to ponder that, so I replied, “You call this murder
polite!” I gestured to the poor dead tourists around us.

“
Mundanes… they mean
nothing and you know it. Now for the last time, do you wish to end
with some honor and dignity or just be slaughtered like these
sheep?”

“
Screw you and the horse
you rode in on, Jack,” I answered. I was eyeing the UZI with my
peripheral vision; it was nearly as close to me as it was to this
Stewart Hentan.

The killer scowled, but pulled out a
knife with a nasty curved blade of about twelve inches, the
gleaming blade polished to a bright gleam. “So be it, die nameless.
I will mount your head on a placard at my estate to show until one
of us recognizes you. Then I’ll make your House the laughing stock
of the Ten Worlds.”

I feinted left then dove right...
toward the UZI. I figured he would race me for it, but he just
shifted his footing and swiveled to face me as I came up with the
wicked machine gun leveled at his chest.

“
Now who’s laughing, you
ugly bastard,” I said with a wicked grin.

“
You would dare insult ME?”
he said, thunderclouds brewing as his eyebrows came down until they
nearly met in the middle of his face.

“
You think that was an
insult, you sniveling excuse for chicken droppings? I’ve met road
kill which looked better than your face, you rat nosed, murdering
coward!”

“
I shall erase your line
from history!” he snarled.

I shrugged, “Whatever, Barf breath,
now back away, or I’ll stitch you a new seam with this
UZI.”

He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know
who you are, but your education has been lax. Your brethren should
have taught you better than to threaten a Second, especially after
insulting them.”

He took a step toward me lifting his
shining blade a little higher.

I had a brief moment of fear as I
realized the UZI must be empty! He must have known this when he
tossed it aside, what a fool I had been! I pulled the trigger
anyway just to make sure.

The report of the automatic firing
shocked the hell out of me. It climbed to the left with the natural
pull of the gun firing on full automatic, but I compensated,
sending the main stream of bullets into his chest. I realized
somewhere in the past I had learned to use automatics.

I stopped firing, knowing short
controlled bursts to be more accurate.

Damn it to hell, Stewart was still
approaching without so much as a scratch on his big chest. A bullet
proof vest? But no, his clothes were also untouched by the bullets.
I must have missed.

I aimed more carefully and stepped
back, then I fired another burst. This time, I knew I did not miss,
yet he was unperturbed, maybe these were blanks? But this made no
sense; I’d seen him mow down a lot of tourists with this
gun.

He kept coming and his knife looked
very wide and very lethal.

I considered panicking as my next
option.

I looked past his shoulder for an
avenue of escape and saw the blocked opening, the way was open
above the fallen statue, but you would have to scramble over
first.

Unfortunately, it was too far to jump.
I considered launching off the head of Amun-Ra, but it looked like
an impossible distance to leap. On the other hand, I reasoned, what
did I have to lose?

I shifted my aim to his face and let
fly with the UZI, aiming for his eyes. I figured if it worked, he
would be dead, if somehow he still did not get hit by the bullets,
maybe it would mess up his vision somehow. I fired and ran past
him; at the last second, he seemed to see me and lunged with the
knife. As I flew by I felt a ripping of cloth go in along my side
and then slice down across my ribs.

I took a running bound to the top of
the statue’s head, and a second step up onto his shoulder, and then
leaped for the high top of the arched opening of the exit from the
chamber. Incredibly, my leap took me all the way up to the opening
and I managed to land, and then drop down on the other
side.

I heard a bellow from the room behind
me. “Coward, you run from a fight! I will hunt you down no matter
where you hide.”