Terry W. Ervin (47 page)

A sneer twisted Lilly’s face. “You’re allied with the Necromancer King!” Her hurled accusation caused the gargoyle to stir.

“Incorrect,” responded the Colonel, hands still folded.

“Ye may be long lived, Immortal Blood,” Roos said without emotion, “but time has not delivered thee wisdom. Once the Corpse Lord conquers our lands, redoubled, his evil will grow and spread like pestilence, eventually landing on thy shores.”

“Crusader, you underestimate my resources. And your leaders do not yet recognize the true enemy. It is they who have failed you, not I.”

“Are you talking about the Long-Tooths?” I asked.

“Upon your return, their resurgence should be brought to your leader’s attention.” He stood, as did the gargoyle, indicating that the meeting was ending.

The Colonel’s knowledge of the Long-Tooths told me he’d communicated with Belinda or some other informant. “Worrying about a future enemy is pointless,” I said, “when one is already overrunning your lands.” I slapped my hand down on the Blood-Sword. Compared to the Necromancer King’s Stukas, the Colonel’s Osprey was like a unicorn to a horse. “This is a powerful weapon, against ogres, giants and goblins. It is impotent as any other sword against your Osprey.” Even as I said it, I got the sinking feeling that the Colonel was unwilling to provide a weapon that might one day be turned on his own armies.

“Every soldier of worth recognizes the enemy and circumstances in which to employ a weapon,” said the Colonel. “King Tobias was correct. The artifact you possess holds significant meaning to me.” He signaled to the gargoyle, which stretched and flexed its bat-like wings. “I regret that you have traveled far, removing the artifact from the battlefield where it may have done much to hinder your enemy’s advance.” He glanced down at the sword, before looking Roos and me in the eye. “I am not the only one of my kind who has an interest in possessing this weapon.”

“Like I said,” standing and getting angrier, “vague warnings of future enemies desiring this sword are worthless. Besides, we already figured that out. And you must not know the sword well since you overestimate its power when set against souled zombies directing panzers and Stukas.”

My last statement raised the Colonel’s eyebrow and caused the gargoyle to cock its head in interest. “Panzers and Stukas?” asked the Colonel, motioning for me to sit. “Tell me about these Stukas and panzers.”

I told him about the cannon and machine gun firing panzers. This time I spared no details. I told him of my and Road Toad’s assault on several at the bridge on the Valduz River. And how there, as well as on the battlefield in northern Keesee, earth elementals were used to battle them. I described the machine gun armed Stukas and the uneven battle when dragons faced them. I explained how summoned wind elementals can be effective, if the wizards aren’t bombed and shot to pieces first.

When I’d finished the Colonel of the West asked, “How did you come by the names, panzer and Stuka?”

“Goblins chanted ‘Panzer’ the first night I saw one. Grand Wizard Seelain came to the battlefield to warn Prince Reveron of the Stukas. I do not know where she obtained that name, but that’s what everyone calls them, including Prince Reveron.”

The Colonel pulled a pencil and small piece of paper from a breast pocket and drew on it. “Have you ever seen this before?”

Lilly and Roos shook their head, but I recognized the hooked cross emblem. “It’s painted on the sides of every panzer and Stuka I’ve seen.”

With the stakes at hand, I felt Prince Reveron would approve of me revealing what I’d learned while observing a secret war council. “It’s the symbol of an ancient empire that tried to dominate the world.” I nodded towards Roos. “Crusader historians called it a swastika. Prince Reveron learned the Necromancer King has summoned the knowledge of the swastika’s fallen empire.” I leaned forward, placing a fist on the table. “And damned souls that served the ancient empire now serve the Necromancer King.”

I sat back, recalling the faces of fallen comrades. “I am one of the few survivors of the infiltration force that verified where the Necromancer King is building Stukas and panzers.”

The entire time I spoke, a dark, angry look grew in the Colonel of the West’s eyes. Several times his right eye twitched, almost to the point of blinking. When I’d finished, he stood calmly and signaled to the gargoyle again. “Thank you for the information,” he said. “I’ll ask you to remain here while I consider what you have said. I will have food and drink brought. Is there anything else you require?”

Lilly nudged me. “A latrine visit,” I said. “Not immediately but soon.”

“I shall see to it that escorts, including a female, will accompany you, shortly.”

The gargoyle preceded the Colonel out of the room. I started to ask Roos what he thought about the meeting, when Lilly shushed me. We remained quiet while she sat with eyes closed.

A minute later we gathered around Lilly. “I listened to them out in the hall,” said Lilly. “Before they walked away.”

Roos frowned, but I asked Lilly, “So, what did they say? Is he going to trade for the sword?”

“The Colonel said something about someone crossing a line he shouldn’t have. And the rock goblin remarked until yesterday it had been fifteen years since the last contact from Outpost 4. Then the Colonel said to contact Outpost 4. The rock goblin suggested he speak with his daughter. There was a long silence, and the Colonel said to set it up.” Lilly shrugged. “Then they walked away.”

Roos wondered aloud why they’d conversed, not only in the tongue Lilly could understand, but also within her earshot.

Roos was convinced that the Colonel of the West recognized Lilly for what she was, and I tended agree. Beyond that we could only guess as to the mysterious Colonel’s motives.

We waited until the next morning for the Colonel to return. Fifteen minutes after he’d left the meeting room three soldiers escorted us to a nearby windowless room with chamber pots and three cots. Later a meal, beef and boiled potatoes, along with watered wine, was delivered.

The frustrating wait made it impossible for me to sleep. So much hung in the balance. What if, despite the Colonel’s apparent change of heart, he refused to help? How could I face Prince Reveron? Would my failure doom my family and everyone in Keesee? If the Colonel was open to trade, what would he offer for the sword? I knew so little of magic and machines. How would I know if it was enough?

Roos slept, still recovering from his head wound, while I sat on my cot trying to figure out what to do. Lilly sat up with me, offering few ideas but much appreciated support.

I finally dozed off for several hours and awoke still laying on the Blood-Sword that I’d wrapped in several blankets. Someone had cleaned my armor and left it at the foot of my cot. After dressing, a soldier escorted me to a latrine with flowing water. There I found the rest of my equipment oiled, polished and stacked next to one of the four water basins.

Roos had been up for an hour, as had Lilly. They waited for me and we ate a breakfast of eggs, bacon and cider in the meeting room.

No soldiers spoke to us other than to give directions. They seemed unconcerned that I wore my short sword, Lilly her dagger, and Roos had both his revolver and saber.

Lilly and I listened to Roos tell a childhood fishing story where he and his two sisters had their day’s catch snapped up by a seven-foot snapping turtle. All three of us were laughing as Roos described his pathetic attempt at explaining to his father why they hadn’t brought back any fish for supper. The Colonel and the gargoyle entered the room, interrupting our mirth.

After a few pleasantries, the Colonel of the West said, “Before we discuss the situation across the North Atlantic, I would like to tell you a story.”

From a pocket in its white jacket, the gargoyle pulled out a small rectangular block with buttons and symbols inscribed upon it. The gargoyle pointed it at the mirror. The lights dimmed and a white rectangle resembling an artist’s blank canvas appeared. Then a group of connected buildings in a vast desert appeared on the mirror’s canvas. They were similar to Outpost 4, except squatter with more stone and far fewer windows.

“To be more accurate,” said the Colonel, adjusting the angle of his chair to face the picture as it switched to the interior of the buildings, “it is an ancient history lesson.”

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

As ordered, the blast walls fell, but they failed to contain the experiment. Waves continued to pulse from within the chamber. Waves Dr. Mindebee would never understand, despite centuries of unremitting study. They altered the laws of physics. They changed biochemistry. In the end, they rewrote reality.

Just as the world changed, so did the men and women who were the first to witness it.

“And,” said the Colonel of the West as the picture on the wall mirror went blank, “that is what occurred 2,873 years before the Reign of King Tobias.” He nodded to the gargoyle. “As calculated by the scholars in Keesee.”

Roos, Lilly, and I sat at the table, trying to take in all that had been shown to us. The gargoyle pressed several buttons on the little box, returning the glow in the glass tubes and causing the mirror’s white canvas to fade.

“What you saw is archival footage gathered and preserved centuries ago,” said the Colonel. “A few events were conjured by seers. The rest of the historical documentation was recreated using computer generated scenes.”

I didn’t understand all of what the Colonel said, just as I didn’t comprehend all I’d just heard and saw. But one startling fact stuck out. “I saw you in the images on the mirror,” I said, realizing if it was true, the man sitting across from me was almost 3000 years old. “Your voice too. You’re Colonel Ibrahim from the images!”

“Correct,” said the Colonel of the West. “I am Colonel Ibrahim. And this,” he added patting the white-clad gargoyle on its shoulder, “is Dr. Mindebee, my loyal friend through all these centuries.”

I started to ask another question, but Roos interrupted me. “So,” he said, rubbing his chin, “if what ye said is true, the immortal bloods were once mortal. Transformed by the cataclysm.”

“Yes, every one.”

“And the Corpse Lord draws upon knowledge that dates to the time of the cataclysm.”

“I see where you are going, Crusader Roos,” said Colonel Ibrahim, the Colonel of the West. “But you’re only half correct.” He targeted his explanation to Roos and myself. “He is an immortal blood, or greater elf. You know him as the Corpse Lord, or the Necromancer King.” He exchanged glances with the gargoyle. “We know him as the dictator, General Mzali.”

“The one who’s responsible for the cataclysm?” asked Lilly. “Started the plague, even killing his own men?”

“One in the same,” said Colonel Ibrahim.

“The Blood-Sword does the same thing the plague did,” said Lilly. “He made it?”

“Again, you’re half correct.” He nodded to the gargoyle. “Dr. Mindebee, would you care to explain?”

The gargoyle flexed his wings and shifted position on his pedestal. “The sword you’ve borne contains a martyr’s soul. One of Mzali’s recruits who spread the plague.”

Learning Lilly’s dual nature made it possible for me to comprehend a man’s mind trapped inside the stone creature perched on the pedestal. But the gritty voice of a gargoyle made him hard to understand.

“An immortal blood, long since slain,” continued Dr. Mindebee, “created the sword and gave it to one of his offspring to wield against another immortal blood. That is how it came into being.”

Even knowing what I knew, it was hard to accept a gargoyle speaking authoritatively, motioning with his hands and exhibiting thoughtful expressions.

“And, Crusader,” said Dr. Mindebee, “in the aftermath of the cataclysm, nearly all abandoned technology in favor of harnessing the new energies released into our dimension. You call it magic. Mzali was numbered among them.”

“Yes,” said Colonel Ibrahim. “He does not have the technological knowledge that Dr. Mindebee provides me. He does not have the control over earth and air that I do to build and refine what my physicist friend cannot.” The dark look returned to the Colonel’s eyes. “No, he summoned the damned souls of Nazis. Probably scientists and engineers to design the processes and build the factories to return panzers and Stukas to the battlefield.”

“No minor feat,” said Dr. Mindebee. “Undoubtedly took him centuries of preparation and effort. It surprised me to hear that it could be accomplished.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” asked Roos.

Interesting as the lesson and discussion was, Roos’ question had crossed my mind, and how it related to our mission with the Blood-Sword.

“Although there are long established rules,” said Colonel Ibrahim, his right eye beginning to twitch, “some are bending them to the breaking point. And Mzali reviving Nazis, an evil long ago eradicated from the earth. Bringing them back to achieve his goals. He’s gone too far.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence until Dr. Mindebee said, “Background, Crusader. Context for something Colonel Ibrahim is contemplating.”

We sat for several moments, waiting as Colonel Ibrahim got up and paced, thinking. He took the box from Dr. Mindebee and began pressing the buttons with his thumb, bringing up images in the mirror. He stopped on a picture of a fiery explosion with a billowing black mushroom cloud rising above. “Care to trade your sword for one of these?”