Five Days Dead (15 page)

“I have heard stories that the Gray Walker can remove a person’s linktag.”

Orrin raised an eyebrow. “And that is a threat to the Federation?”

“I don’t know if it’s a threat or not. I am bound by my duty to protect the Lord High Judge and the Federation. A man with such power is outside the realm of order and would lead to chaos. If he exists, he must be dealt with.”

“As you say. He is of no concern to me or my Wrynd.”

“The one who helps the drifter could not be the Gray Walker?”

“Not by the legends I have heard whispered from the mouths of those I’ve devoured.”

“Then who?”

Orrin sat on the Marshal’s couch and threw his bare and clawed feet on the coffee table. “An old man with the power of lightning in his hands.”

Jodi laughed. “You’re serious? Are you sure you weren’t in the digiverse?”

“I was in realtime. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Jodi took the chair across from him, folded her legs on the table beside his own. “An old man who controls lightning. Would an army of your Wrynd be able to stop such a man?”

“Bring me enough ink and we will stop him.”

“Perhaps I should pay the Wilderness a visit with my deputies.”

Orrin leaned forward and his teeth flashed in a pointed grin. “I would not advise that Marshal. This is our feast.”

Jodi considered for a moment. “You’ll have it in the morning.”

“Tonight. I need it tonight.”

“Tonight then. But once you have dealt with this mysterious man, once you have had your fill of Harley Nearwater, I will expect that your army be disbanded by whatever means you find necessary. Have a zombie buffet if you like.”

Orrin smirked. “One other thing.”

“Yes?”

“We will take up arms, my Wrynd Tribe. We will use teeth and claw and fist and strength. We will also use blaster and sword and any other weapon we can find to defeat our enemies. We will no longer be the Wrynd Tribe; we will be the Wrynd Horde!”

Jodee pursed her lips. They were lovely. “You will not break your treaty with the Federation. If you do, my deputies, the Legion itself will swarm down on you.”

“Treaty. What do you know of treaties Marshal?”

“We supply you with your drug zombie king. We look the other way as your cannibal filth spoil the Wilderness. We look the other way because you serve a purpose of our Lord High Judge, to purge the countryside and bring the pilgrims and the neands to the Hubs. But only if you lay down your arms. There will be no Wrynd army. You can use your teeth and claw and fist and strength, but if you take up weapons, we will kill you. Do not test the Federation.”

Orrin leapt to his feet and Jodi matched him, the two standing toe to toe.  The woman was more than a foot shorter than the Wrynd king, but she did not back away.

“We are the Federation!” Orrin roared.

Questions danced on Jodi’s brow and she did step back, but only to get a better look into Orrin’s eyes.

“Federation?”

Orrin grinned, pleased that he had caught the woman off balance. “Who does the mighty Marshal Service answer to Jodi Tempest?”

“We answer to the Federation.”

“Federation, bah! The Federation is a thing. What person do you bow your knee to, what person do you swear allegiance to? What person do you kill for Marshal Tempest?” Orrin went back to the window and looked out. 

“We answer to Lord Judge Syiada.”

“And while I am king of a tribe, I am not the king of our people. I answer to the High Wrynd King,” Orrin grinned wildly, reveling in the moment of discovery. “High Wrynd King Syiada.”

Jodi sat back down and stared at the gruesome image of the Wrynd and Orrin roared with laughter.

“You think yourself so much above us Marshal Tempest. You and all of your deputies. But you are no different. We each serve a master and now you see that we serve the same master. But you do not yet realize how much alike we truly are.” Orrin walked the length of the office, slowly, casually, his clawed toes scraping on the polished floor. “This place of power you call your own I once called my own. Where you sit, I once sat. The star on your chest was once on my chest.”

“A Marshal? You?”

“We were Marshals! In every Realm of Man save one, you will find the Wrynd feeding in the shadows. While there is no Wrynd in the Outland, the day will come when High King Syiada will see a need for us even there and then there we will also be. The Wrynd purge the Wilderness of humanity, herd them into the Hubs or devour them. We are many and we are strong. A Wrynd king leads each tribe and once each king was a Marshal of the Federation. The Wrynd are because we were!”

Orrin enjoyed the storm of emotion on the young marshal’s face. “Marshals are the champions of the Federation, servants of the Lord Judge, as are the Wrynd Kings. We will take up arms against our enemies. We will not be stopped. Contact our master if you wish. If he is displeased, he can fillet me himself. But I will march with my army and all our might. We will destroy this man of lightning and I will rip the heart from Harley Nearwater and then we will see what we shall see.”

The Wrynd king stormed out of the digiverse and his eyes blinked three times rapidly as he returned to the balcony of the hotel. He turned and Ralph and Nina were standing at the doorway of his hotel room. He smiled and started to walk toward them when he felt the ground beneath his feet shift and he had to stop to catch his balance. 

Ralph looked at him, concerned. “King Orrin?”

Orrin tried to take another step and fell to his knees, his vision swimming. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes and when he opened them, he was no longer in his hotel room. He was kneeling on the ground on a jagged cliff, staring down at a valley hundreds of feet below and for a moment vertigo gripped him.

“Beautiful view isn’t it?” a voice whispered softly behind him.

The Gray Walker

Orrin stared down at Castle Valley from the top of Horn Mountain and as he knelt he could see lightning flash over the desert. There were high cumulus sliding across the dark sky, softly illuminated by the just rising moon. He reached down and scooped up a handful of dirt and let it slide through his fingers. Could this be the digiverse? There was no way of knowing, but something told him it was not.

“Sorcery.” His voice sounded hushed and perhaps even a little anxious in the quiet of the night.

“You flatter me.” The voice behind him was light and cheerful. “It’s a nice trick, I’ll admit that much. But sorcery? That would be rather pompous of me, to claim the talents of a sorcerer, wouldn’t it?”

Orrin jumped to his feet and turned, his claws extended in front of him and his face snarling. There was a man sitting on the twisted limb of a juniper. He was of medium build and wore simple black jeans, white shirt, and battered cowboy boots. His face was in need of a shave and his hair was brown and disheveled as if he had only recently awakened. He was smiling at Orrin happily and his eyes were dancing and gay and floating in gray.

“You!” Orrin growled.

“Me?” The man with the gray eyes asked back.

“The Gray Walker.” Orrin walked toward him, popping his neck as he prepared to pounce.

“Gray Walker?” The man sounded highly amused. “I wonder, is that supposed to be my name or my title?”

“Which is it?”

The man with the gray eyes hopped off the juniper and went to meet Orrin.  “Neither actually.”

“Then who are you?”

“Who? Why, I am me. Who else could I be?”

“What are you called?” Orrin lashed out with fist and claw and where the gray man had been he no longer was. He was now behind him. 

“Called? A scoundrel usually, although I’m sure it would break my mother’s heart to hear.”

Orrin spun and lashed out impossibly fast with both arms, leaping up into the air to deliver a sweeping kick. The strange man sidestepped out of the way casually, as if he might be rehearsing a dance with the big Wrynd.

“What is your name?” Orrin squatted on the ground, preparing to leap and the gray man knelt to mimic him.

“Name? Eva.” The Gray Walker grinned happily. “Eva Gabor.”

Orrin leapt and wrapped his arms around the man with the gray eyes, laughing while he lifted him off the ground and began to dig his fingers into the smaller man’s sides. “Well, Eva Gabor. Let us see how black your blood is in the moonlight.”

While Orrin dug his claws into him, the man with the gray eyes didn’t seem to be bothered in the least and he frowned softly as he reached down and gripped the bigger man by the wrists. “I faint at the sight of my own blood I’m afraid. Can’t have that you know, I might tumble right off the cliff and make a mess of myself on the rocks below.” He twisted his hands and Orrin’s grip was broken easily, as if he was only a child. The Gray Walker continued to twist the Wrynd’s wrists and Orrin knew his bones would break very soon if he did not submit.

The smaller man pushed Orrin back and he fell on his behind in the dirt. He started to leap to his feet and the Gray Walker motioned for him to stay sitting and sat down cross-legged in front of him. “You can keep on if you like, but eventually I will have to break a bone or two to get your attention. I am rather good at breaking bones and once I begin it’s hard for me to stop. It would be difficult for you to complete your plans with a body full of broken bones, don’t you think?”

Orrin rubbed his wrists where the Gray Walker had touched him. He could see no mark, but they felt burned.

“What do you want?”

“I thought I might give you some free advice. I like to give advice from time to time, even though it is so very seldom taken. But I try anyway. My advice to you would be to let it go.”

“Let what go?”

“Why your revenge, of course. Let it go. It would only end with your demise unless I am of a mind to step in and help you and I’m not of a mind to do so. Not at all.”

“I will have my revenge.”

“I will have my revenge.” The man with the gray eyes mocked. “You sound rather ridiculous you know. Try saying the same thing in a falsetto and you’ll see what I mean. I will have my revenge!” The gray man squeaked. “See what I mean? Ridiculous.”

Orrin stared at the Gray Walker, gritting his teeth and the smaller man finally shook his head and scooped up a handful of dust and tossed it into the air.  It swirled between them and from within an image began to materialize of a man walking down a long and lonely road. A bent old man, lost and alone.

“The instrument of your destruction.” The Gray Walker motioned. “See how sad he looks, walking all alone on the highway? His wife and companion killed by the very man you wish to consume. Harley Nearwater. He is quite the paradox, ol’ Harley. Every stumbling step he takes leads us closer and closer to ruin. I have half a mind to let you eat him, but I’m not sure his talents for mischief would be any less pervasive dead rather than alive. In any event, if you try to kill the old man it would be a moot point because I do believe this little old shepherd would destroy you and all your Wrynd with hardly a thought. I am only glad that I came along when I did because I was not aware of Mr. Toll until now. He is a man who bears watching, yes indeed. He might become a bit of a complication if he were to take an interest in the world. It is my sincere hope that he will not.”

“So if the Wrynd attack this old man on the highway you will stand against us?”

The Gray Walker smiled softly and shook his head. “No. But I will not stand with you and if I don’t, you will die.”

Orrin stood and faced the cliff and the valley below. “We will fight Gray Walker.”

The man with the gray eyes shrugged, perhaps a little sadly. “Have fun storming the castle.” He motioned with his left hand and King Orrin of the Wrynd disappeared.

The Gray Walker climbed to his feet and brushed the dust off his pants. He stood on the cliff and looked out at the valley, a smile on his lips. The wind was blowing softly and there was just a hint of moisture in the breeze, just a touch of a promise of a storm to come. He stepped off the cliff and plummeted toward the valley. Half a dozen times he touched down on his way to the bottom, first on his left foot, then on his right, only to kick off yet again and continue his mad descent to the valley floor. When he reached it, he landed on his right foot as if he had only been going from one step to the next and he walked swiftly through the foothills, his boots making not a sound. He came to an old highway and followed it as it shadowed the river toward Orangeville and on the edge of the sleeping town he came to a dirt road that turned right and he took it. The road ended where an old timber bridge began. The bridge spanned the little river and on the other side there was an orchard and the Gray Walker stood with his boots barely touching the bridge as he stared across to the trees.

He smiled a smile of wonder and joy and he stuck his neck out so that it broke the plane of the bridge. When he did so the orchard he was looking at seemed so much larger than it previously did, so much grander, so much more magical than any orchard he had ever seen in his long and winding life. It was really quite an amazing trick. He must congratulate the old man.

Maybe someday.

But for now the old man was still lost in his walk of grief and it gave the man with the gray eyes a little time to explore the orchard he had so carefully cultivated. The Gray Walker looked back down the dirt road he had followed to the bridge and then he grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets and walked across, into the world of Edward Toll. He whistled a little tune as he did. It was the theme to Green Acres. It was a classic show, he thought. One of his all-time favorites.

Orrin almost fell when the floor of the hotel suddenly appeared beneath his feet. He reached out for the wall and it caught him and Ralph and Nina ran toward him, concern on their young faces.

“What happened, my Lord?”

Orrin shook his head. “Sorcery. Magician tricks. No matter.”  He looked about him while he regained his balance and then he looked at his wrists. There was no sign of where the Gray Walker had touched him, yet still his skin tingled. “Where are the other Daggers?”

“They’re still out in the city. They should be back soon. There are a lot of cats and coyote gathering on the outskirts of town. We’ve spotted a few mountain lion.”  Ralph offered.

“It’s going to be a busy night.” Through the blast hole in the wall, Orrin could hear people being herded into the room by a handful of Wrynd.  They were whimpering, begging for mercy. They made Orrin smile. “Starting tonight we are more than the Wrynd of the past. Starting tonight, the old ways are behind us. We use more than teeth and claw and fist and strength to defeat and devour our enemies. We use everything and anything we can find.”

Ralph looked puzzled and perhaps just a little bit hopeful as Orrin strode to the bar and lifted an old backpack from the corner.

“Anything?”  He asked.

Orrin unzipped the pack and reached inside and withdrew a scye. He held it in his hands and it slowly lifted into the air, glowing red with menace, like an angry eye. “Anything.” He smiled and pulled a star out of the bag, holding it in his massive hand. “Once, long ago, before I was your King, I was Orrin Hatcher, Marshal of the Federation.” He crushed the star and tossed it away. He pulled a holster out of the old backpack and strapped it around his waist and pulled its blaster free, enjoying the feel of it in his hand once more.

“What do you want of us?” Nina was grinning broadly.

“Gather up the other Daggers. I need weapons for each of you, whatever weapon you wish, it doesn’t matter to me. Then I need trucks, big trucks, big enough to carry those we have in holding. Big enough to keep them under control until we can give them their ink, send them into the flare and point them at our enemies.”

“There are a couple of cattle trailers and semis on the other end of town.  They look old enough that we may not have to be on the Link to run them.”

“That will do. Bring them here.” Orrin turned when he heard a humming outside of the hotel. He went to the balcony and a stork dropped a black case into his outstretched hands. There were 600 vials of ink inside. He smiled.

Ralph clapped his hands when he saw how much ink was in the case. Whatever his king had in mind, it was going to be glorious. He took the vial of drug Orrin had requested out of his pocket. “Will you still want this?

Orrin took the vial from Ralph and handed him the case. “I’ll take that, you take this. Keep it safe. We leave in the morning.”

Ralph and Nina stepped aside and Orrin walked out of the room with his scye hovering at his shoulder. He opened the door to room 302 and motioned toward the four Wrynd keeping the huddled, terrified townsfolk inside from leaping out the window.

“You’d better leave.” Orrin said to his Wrynd. He pressed the vial of ink to a dark vein in his right arm. A needle in the vial struck him like a viper and the vein turned black.

The Gray Walker thought they could not win with teeth and claw and fist and strength. He wondered what he might think when he saw the Wrynd with so much more than that.

Orrin roared and closed the door. The screaming started.