Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (34 page)

“Since I am certain the wizards are coming, what must be done to stop them? I need time to retrieve and destroy the conjurations.” The witch paced the room, a black thing moving through the dim light inside the cabin. The witch stopped again. Even though its mask was made of iron, it seemed the smile carved on its face widened.

“The solution is simple. I must have a warm welcome prepared to those wizards. What better welcome can be perceived than an Azure Empire house bent on a Purification Quest of the sphere? My employers will now be employed by me to hunt every wizard foolish enough to step on this sphere.”

***

The witch stood on the deck, near the railing. There was darkness all around, pools of blackness deeper than anything apparently possible. Even though the small brigantine was sailing on the night side of the Skyriver lane, the night around the witch was blacker still. Tendrils of blackness writhed around the robed figure, wrapping themselves around his body and sneaking away. The pools of blackness on the ship were unnaturally deep, deeper than anything any sailor had seen before, even those who had braved a night-side lane before. Kennard and seven other sailors stirred in their locked cabin, warped limbs twitching, beaks raised up, eyes full of pain, shrieking.

The witch stood, one hand raised, intertwined into the darkness. Shadows roved around, cold shadows whose mere touch caused frostbites, shadows that no light could ever dispel. The darkness was wrapped around the robed man, woven into complex patterns, tendrils of blackness flowing over the ship and onwards, into the unknown reaches of the nightside lane.

The witch thrust its right hand forward, fingers spread open, directing the flows of blacker-than-night streams. A whirlpool raged not far off the ship’s portside, an oval black chasm that churned the multicolored Skyriver waters, causing them to spin and drain away into an immense sink. Cracking, snapping sounds issued from that whirlpool. Broken mast sections and pieces of sails whirled around, a long wood spar snapping like a twig as it was sucked under. Timbers clashed against each other as they were drawn down. Logs of various sizes snapped and broke into smaller pieces, pulverized by the immense forces exerted on them, and sinking below the waters. A hand waved from that black tear into the fabric of reality, trying desperately to grab anything to stay afloat. Yet, it was drawn into the black oval opening, vanishing forever.

The silk-clad hand finally closed, and the oval, black chasm closed too. The whirlpool, though still spinning, started to lose energy. It widened and became shallower. The water calmed. A moment later almost nothing remained except a few haphazard ripples and a small amount of debris: several broken logs, some sailcloth and an oil slick. The witch watched a clay cup bobbing up and down on the multicolored waters,. The witch, moving slowly and carefully, gradually removed its left arm from within the darkness that shrouded it. The blackness around the brigantine started to disperse, its movements slowing down. The ship became brighter, even though it was still sailing on the nightside lane. However, the darkness around the witch did not disappear completely. It was a temporary reprieve, the darkness biding its time.

Eyes wide, the captain of the brigantine stared aghast into the multicolored, faintly luminous waters. His head jerked, his gaze coming to rest on the black-robed figure that was still standing and staring into the waters. The captain tried to make his numb legs work, moving woodenly towards the witch. He had to force his hand away from the hilt of his sword that he had almost drawn. The huge ape-demon was standing over the witch, its dark green eyes burning as it looked down at the captain, its wooden claws opening and closing.

“You - you killed them! Everyone! You destroyed the ship!” The captain stammered. The black-robed man said nothing.

“You destroyed them! They were on the same mission as you are! They were sent here by the same employers that sent you here!” the captain whispered. The iron mask ignored him. The captain took a deep breath.

“What about Kennard? What, have you - have you no soul? How can you kill and maim men on the same side as you? What kind of -” The captain stopped talking and took a step back as the iron mask moved. It still was not directed at him. The black mask looked up into the sunken eyes of the demon standing guard above him.

The iron mask turned to watch over the Skyriver’s lane horizon and then turned towards the captain. The captain shuddered as the black mask was directed at him, the sardonic smile on it seeming to mock him.

“
Saawantaa
!” The voice rang hollowly. The ape-shaped demon grunted, metal and wood squealing as it moved its misshapen shape. “Even though your last task was performed with less than complete success, I feel generous. Feed,
Saawantaa
! Fill your self with mortal essence! These are for you, vessels full of mortal essence. Come get your meat!”

The monstrous demon head nodded once, its flat forehead gleaming.

“When you are sated, sink the ship and follow me!” The witch stepped into a black oval opening and vanished, the orifice closing after him.

The captain, standing a few yards away, had watched the witch converse with the demon, and had filled with dread. The fate he feared, the fate that he knew was following them from the moment the witch first boarded his ship, was finally upon them. The captain shook himself and drew his blade. They would go down fighting!

“First mate! Call the crew on deck! Distribute weapons! Take - ” The captain stopped talking. The demon, a mismatched matchstick figure, turned towards him and bent down, its claws clicking on the wooden deck. The demon’s jaws gaped open and the captain could see its insides, a twisted amalgamation of war engine bolts fused together, a travesty offensive to behold, an endless pit.

The captain started to scream.

Day 16 after Earth Barrier Breach.

Owego, Tioga County, New York State, United States. Tuesday, 22:05.

“This is HQ. Radio check.”

“Alpha here.”

“Bravo here.”

“Guardian here.”

“Delta here.”

“HQ, loud and clear. Move out. Mission is a go.” Three vans and one yellow pickup truck moved out from the Enoco lodge in Endicott, each using a different route, everyone heading to their own destination.

Thorpe glumly watched the other occupants in his Ford van. The director was sitting on one of the benches, leaning back with his eyes closed. Graham was sitting at one of the radio consoles in the van, coordinating with the teams. Thorpe turned his eyes to his own console. He had his laptop strapped in, in the hope that it would continue working despite the bumps and blows it might receive along the way. Another computer, the control computer of the Raven UAV, rugged and specially protected, was attached to a console. It was a state-of-the-art-system, only just entering service with the Special Forces.

This miniature unmanned aerial vehicle could be controlled from the laptop and its video output shown on the screen. Thorpe pressed one leg to the Raven’s case to prevent it from being thrown around in the van. His eyes darted from the director, to Graham, to his own console. He jumped up when the van finally stopped and then sat down, his legs shaking. Graham looked up.

“We have arrived,” he told Thorpe. “HQ is in position,” announced Graham into the mike of the tactical radio on his console.

“HQ, Guardian. ETA five minutes.”

“Roger, Guardian.” Graham looked at the director, who was apparently still dozing.

“Thorpe, start assembling your toy,” Graham said. Thorpe looked up in annoyance and saw Graham grinning. Thorpe grinned back, opened the sliding door at the side of the Ford van and stepped outside. They had stopped onto the shoulder of County Road 17.

Thorpe opened the Raven’s case and started assembling the SUAV. It took only several minutes to assemble and Thorpe took his time, sliding the parts in carefully. Finally, he inserted the tiny thermal-nose camera into the drone, making sure it was securely attached. He placed the drone onto the case and reentered the van. He deployed the antenna outside the van; a black cable connected the antenna to the Raven control computer. He checked the UAV’s transmission. It seemed to be in order; the nose camera was operating perfectly.

Thorpe inserted two waypoints into the drone’s flight plan. The first one was east of the van, about two hundred feet high and three hundred yards away. The drone would gain height and only then turn around, to head northwest into town.

“Agent Graham, I think you will find this interesting,” Thorpe called out. The small agent left his console and went outside, looking up. A gray dome of clouds was completely covering Owego’s sky.

***

“HQ, Guardian. Moving out.”

Fred and his spotter left the van. Two agents wearing night vision goggles remained inside, scanning the forest around them. The ford van was off the road, in a secluded spot. Fred grunted as he lifted his huge rifle, its strap around his neck.

The spotter led them, scanning ahead with his night vision goggles. Fred walked carefully after the spotter, who was armed with a P90, his mission to protect the heavy sniper. The trees in the forest did not hinder the agents’ passage. They walked slowly, taking care not to make noise. Suddenly, the spotter’s hand rose and Fred froze. The spotter lowered his hand and Fred sank down, carefully putting his rifle on the ground. The spotter moved forward, alone.

“Clear,” the spotter whispered into his radio, whose transducer in the spotter's ear acted as a microphone, keeping the teams connected through their local radio networks.

“Roger,” Fred whispered back. The spotter returned a moment later and they continued on. They stopped once to check their bearings using a global positioning system and then went on. Finally, they started to approach their position. They stopped and the spotter scanned the area around them. He nodded curtly and Fred took the lead. The large agent began walking forward, dropping down as he reached the tree line. He crawled the last hundred yards on his belly, toting the heavy rifle; for the last twenty yards, Fred slowed down even more, taking over fifteen minutes to cover that short distance.

A view of the town was spread in front of Fred. The hill was above the town, affording Fred an elevated look across it. Fred moved around, finding a spot that enabled him to look downwards without breaking the skyline. He could see right into the cult compound and the streets around it. Fred activated his rifle’s thermal sight, waited for the sight to cool down, and then panned his rifle across the compound and the town. The image in the thermal sight had Mil Dot Reticule to help the shooter adjust for distance and wind.

“HQ, this is Guardian. In position.”

***

In the van, Graham turned to the director.

“Sir, Guardian is -”

“They are two minutes late, Agent Graham,” the director said. Graham turned silently back to his radio console. A few minutes later, the three other teams reported that they were in position. The Alpha van drove the last several hundred yards on Elm Street with its lights off, the driver using his goggles to see. Meanwhile, the distraction team waited on the shoulder of Route 17, taking care not to approach the compound before the designated time.

“Guardian, report,” Graham demanded.

“HQ, Guardian. We have five guards moving around the compound.” Fred tried switching to the narrow field of view, but even at X10 magnification he couldn’t see any firearms. He grunted.    

“HQ, Guardian. I cannot see how the guards are armed.”

“Roger, Guardian. You have a lock on the location?”

“Affirmative, HQ. One tent. One guard.”

“Copy that, Guardian.” Graham turned to Thorpe.

“Your turn, Thorpe,” Graham said. Thorpe took his small drone outside. The Raven, even fully deployed, had a wingspan less than four feet wide. Thorpe punched a button and the Raven’s small engine kicked in. Thorpe waited a moment to make sure the small propeller was working perfectly and then threw the device as hard as he could, as if he were passing a football. The small drone glided precariously for a moment and then started to gather height. Thorpe watched it a moment and then headed back into the van, sitting down in front of the Raven control computer. On the miniature map on the computer, he could see the drone advance and turn towards Owego, following its preprogrammed waypoints. Three minutes later, the drone’s nose-mounted camera sent its first thermal images of the compound. Thorpe nodded to Graham.

“Bravo, this is HQ. Move to primary position.”

“Roger, HQ,” Rodney, Bravo’s team leader, said. The yellow pickup truck moved slowly forward, turning towards Division Street, approaching the compound from the southwest. Thorpe used the small joystick on the control computer to make the drone hover high above the compound, tracing circles in the sky. He watched the small screen carefully, looking at the crystal clear thermal image the drone transmitted. The town’s houses were warm; cars were different colors, some cold and black, others with engines glowing white, having been driven not long ago. The compound itself was easily found. The tents were cold and black. Thorpe saw several elongated hot spots arranged in rows, people sleeping on the ground.

One tent was a little apart from the others, with one hotspot outside it occasionally moving. Thorpe zoomed in, identifying the hotspot inside the tent as a human body.

“Agent Graham, the target is in. I can see one guard, one tent. There are five other guards around the compound. No other activity,” Thorpe said. His motions on the joystick were jerky and he was sweating despite the cool night air. The picture on his screen rotated slowly as the drone circled above the cult’s compound. Thorpe was breathing fast. It was slowly dawning on him that he was actually participating in a real operation, where people might get hurt, and where Ellis might be -

“Good, Thorpe. Bravo, you’re a go,” Agent Graham said.

“Roger, HQ,” Rodney said. The yellow pickup truck sped up and reached the compound. One of the guards stepped forward, his arms lifted. The yellow truck stopped next to him.

“You can’t go on,” the guard said. The tall, gangly agent in the front passenger seat turned to him.

“Really? Where are we? Is this Endicott? Where are the inns? Do you have any idea how lousy the signs on this road are?” As Rodney fired off a barrage of questions, the other guards in the compound moved in to help the first one. The agent showed the guard a large map of the area.

“Where are we exactly?” He turned to the agent at the wheel, “I told you that you couldn’t find your ass with two hands, a flashlight and a map! You just keep to driving and I’ll navigate, thank you very much!”

“So, where are we, exactly?” he asked the guard again. Rodney had a P90 submachine gun hidden in his lap, out of view.

***

“HQ, Guardian. I see the guards moving towards Bravo.” Graham glanced at Thorpe who nodded.

“I see it as well,” the red-headed young man said.

“Alpha, go,” Graham snapped.

“Roger, HQ.” Thorpe’s head snapped up as Ellis’s voice erupted from the speakers in the van. Again he bent over his screen, then rubbed his scalp and turned to his laptop. He looked at a picture of the compound from the previous night and compared it to the video the miniature drone was sending.

“That’s strange.” He touched the joystick slightly, making the small drone circle. The nose camera was fixed, but the drone’s motion allowed Thorpe to survey the entire compound.

“Agent Graham, something’s not right here,” Thorpe called out.

***

Ellis scanned her small team for the last time, though the red light in the van made identification difficult.

“All right, move out,” she said. She opened the large sliding door at the side of the van and alighted, taking up her position near a building. The night vision goggles she wore showed the Elm Street in green and white, despite the fact that the night was almost pitch dark. The buildings gradually gave way to sheds and workshops as the street led to the compound. There was no one in sight. She gestured with her hand and her three teammates jumped out of the car and took up their positions around her.

Ellis ran forward, her P90, ready to fire in her hand. The three agents followed her in staggered formation, each of them covering the other as they sprinted across the open spaces between the buildings. As they approached the compound, Ellis, leading the team, raised her fist. All of the agents stopped; the one caught in the open dropped down behind a bench. Ellis looked intently forward. There was a man coming straight towards them from the compound.

“Guardian,” Ellis whispered.

“I see him, Alpha. I can drop him.”

“No! Can you see any other targets?” Ellis asked.

“No, Alpha. It’s clear,” Fred said as he scanned around. The only things in the street that showed up warm were the four agents, the van, and the figure walking towards the team. Fred aimed his rifle at the figure, the crosshairs fixed on to the man’s chest. Ellis watched the figure as it walked forward. From a distance of fifty yards she could see his posture and recognize the walk.

“Alpha team, this is Alpha. Target confirmed. Repeat, the target is walking towards us. Wait for my signal,” Ellis whispered, the sensitive transducer in her ear picking up her words as they vibrated in her ear canal. The man walked towards Ellis, as if he could see her in the dark. At a distance of thirty feet, Ellis sprang out, followed by her teammates. The man stood still, raising his hands when they approached.

“Ellis. I was afraid it would come to this. Please, you must hear me out” Allan’s voice was low, deep and tired. Ellis stopped for a moment in surprise. Her teammates surrounded Allan, one pointing his submachine gun at the stooped man while the others scanned around.

“I’ve come unarmed. I only want to talk to you, Ellis,” Allan said. Ellis shook herself and charged ahead. It only took one blow to make Allan go down as if he were made of Lego, crumbling without any resistance. She handcuffed him and pulled him up.

“This is Alpha. We have the target. Returning to the vehicle,” she said while the team moved towards their van, which was waiting with its motor running. Less than two minutes later, the team and their captive reached it. Ellis opened the sliding door and threw her captive into the van. He calmly rose off the floor and took a seat on one of the benches in the empty van. The rest of the team climbed in and Ellis slammed the door shut.

“Go! Go!” she told the driver.

“HQ, Alpha. Target secured. Heading out,” she said.

***

“Roger, Alpha. Bravo, pull out. Delta, stand by,” Agent Graham said. He turned to Thorpe.

“What do you mean ‘something’s wrong’?” the small agent demanded.

“Look, there was a huge parking lot near the compound with all the cult’s cars. Now, a lot of cars are missing. Something’s up,” Thorpe said. Graham looked at the analyst. The young man was turning his head from the screen of his laptop to the drone’s control computer.