Valhellions, p.16
Valhellions, page 16
“Do I look like a fool?” Edgelord asked.
“You look like a prop from a heavy metal album cover shoot,” I answered. “The kind of guy who had one good song but never realized everyone was making fun of him the whole time.”
“One good song? Well, then you’re going to love the sequel,” he said.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking? Maybe we should skip directly to kicking his ass?” Greg asked. “I’ve heard enough of his preening.”
“John! John, you idiot!” Chesa yelled from overhead. I craned my neck around until I found her, balanced on the edge of the porch roof. Lillie watched from an open window behind Chesa. My ex pointed to the sky. “Air support!”
Black wings circled in the clouds. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and the rolling thunder that followed sounded a lot like war horns.
“Stay tight,” I snapped at Gregory, then charged forward.
The edgelord didn’t move until I was close. The tower configuration of my shield didn’t really lend itself to charging heroically through a domestic garden; the bottom edge kept snagging on the grasping branches of a row of barberry bushes, and every third step the top of the shield would bang against my forehead. But that guy’s sword was deadly, and I wanted every inch of steel between me and its cursed edge as I could manage. Even so, he nearly took me off guard once I got to him. His first strike swept at my front leg, forcing me to ground the shield. I tried to poke at the dark knight with my sword, but he battered the blow aside and followed up with a series of quick downward swings that rang off the top edge of the shield like a tolling bell.
“Give us some space, Rast,” Gregory snapped as he came around me. “Just make sure he doesn’t get to the ladies.”
“Greg, wait!” I shouted, but the handsome knight was already on the attack.
“I like the enthusiasm,” the edgelord said with a smile. “But you should listen to your cowardly friend.”
“Glory is for the strong!” was Gregory’s only answer, as it usually was, in all things. Typical.
Greg’s sword was impressive, just like the rest of him. He wielded a zweihander, or two-hander, of specific German stock. The blade was nearly four feet long, made of a length of wavy metal that was designed to hook enemy blades and leave gruesome wounds in its wake. He kept it in constant motion, a whirring disc of deadly steel that snipped a scattering of branches from the cursed barberry and pushed the man back. The black-clad swordsman tried to parry Gregory’s assault, but there was so much weight and speed behind that blade that it was impossible.
Impossible, but also unnecessary.
“Back, you pathetic sop! Away from this sunlit land!” Gregory advanced in a series of shuffling steps, cutting off the edgelord’s retreat and driving him toward a thicket. “You will taste my steel! I shall—UNGH!”
The zweihander lost momentum and speared into the muddy earth as it slipped from Gregory’s hands. His opponent stood nearly still, arm extended, the tip of his sword barely nicking the inside of Gregory’s bicep. A thin trickle of blood leaked down the blade, before soaking into the unnatural green steel like rain into thirsty soil.
“A palpable touch,” the edgelord said with a growl in his voice. “A very palpable touch.”
“But my . . . my . . .” Greg’s voice faltered and his skin turned gray. Then he collapsed to the ground in a clatter of honor and pride.
“You bastard!” Bethany screamed as she burst out of the thicket, behind the dark knight’s looming form. Much closer and he would have been a dead man, but it took her a handful of steps to close the distance, and the swordsman didn’t have to worry about the strength of his blows. She ran straight at him, glowing daggers overhead, her face twisted in fury.
The edgelord twisted around just in time, bringing his sword up to bat away Bethany’s first blade, then driving the pommel into the wrist of her second attack. That dagger went flying, but she was already counter-swinging with the first, and it was only luck and armor that kept the man moving. I was trying to close the distance between us, but Gregory had pushed the swordsman well back, and I had to get around his limp body. Just as I reached them, the edgelord caught Bethany’s dagger with the guard of his sword, twisted, then levered the blade’s tip down and into Bee’s shoulder. She sucked in a sharp breath, then stepped backward, her retreat covered by a wake of shadows. I thought she was going to escape, but just then she collapsed against a tree, one hand pressed against her shoulder.
“Damn it,” she muttered, pulling her hand away from the wound. Her palm was slick with blood. “I always knew it would be a goth.”
The color drained from her face and she tumbled forward. The edgelord turned to face me.
“Alright, little man,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The black-clad Viking stalked toward me, the Totenschreck held out to one side like a flag in the wind, his other hand hooked casually in his belt buckle. I took an uncertain step backward and nearly tripped over Gregory’s unconscious (and still magnificent) body.
“I have been looking forward to a proper introduction, John Rast. Ever since you and your girlfriend—”
“I’m not his girlfriend!” Chesa yelled from the rooftop, then sent a volley of arrows down on the edgelord’s head. He sidestepped them nimbly and continued his droning diatribe.
“Ever since you slighted me at that pathetic convention, I have savored the thought of putting you in your place,” he said. I fell back a little farther, then stopped when my tower shield scraped against the line of barberries that flanked the path. “What was it you called me? A lonely man-child?”
“I think it was ‘pathetic man-child,’ actually,” I said. “Though I would like to update that to lonely, pathetic, overdressed man-child coward . . . bastard . . . idiot.”
“Really? I thought you said I was so brave, facing you and your friends alone.” He gestured to Greg and Bethany, and then the sky overhead. I glanced up and saw a slight of dark valkyries streaking out of the clouds in tight formation. The man’s laugh rolled like thunder. “Who is alone now, Sir John?”
“Are you going to keep asking rhetorical questions all day?” I asked. “Or are we going to fight?”
“Oh, I don’t think it will be much of a fight,” he said. “But if you insist.”
He lunged forward, striking my shield halfheartedly before taking a swing at my leg. Expecting this, I was already shifting my weight to my back leg and parrying the blow, but then he drove his shoulder into my shield. I stumbled back, arms flailing as I tried to regain my balance. That left me open for another strike. I watched the blade come in, my mind slowing to a crawl as it got closer, but at the last second he turned the sword and struck me with the flat, right in the belly. The edgelord sighed dramatically, as edgelords are wont to do.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the shield guy? The tank?” He took another couple experimental swings at my shield. “I thought at least the tank would be an interesting grind. Are you holding back, or something? Waiting for the appropriate dramatic climax?”
“I am not,” I said. The base of my tower shield dragged through the mud as I pulled back. He continued raining steel down on the bulwark, forcing it to ground every few inches. I swore and called for air support. “Chesa! What the hell are you doing back there?”
“Get back, you bitch!” Chesa shouted. I twisted around to see if I was the bitch in question, but no, Chesa had been forced to abandon bow and arrow and had switched to her dual crescent blades. One of the dark valkyries had landed on the porch roof, and was stalking toward her with spear and shield, while two more flew in lazy circles overhead.
“No help there,” I muttered. Just then, the edgelord kicked my shield, nearly toppling me. I tried to riposte, but was answered by a flurry of slick-green steel thrusts that whistled inches above my head. One touch and I’m done, I thought. Gotta be careful.
“Are you going to come out from behind that thing?” he asked.
“Don’t have a good reason to,” I answered.
“Fine, fine,” he said, exasperated. “Hardly heroic, but what was I expecting?”
The green blade of the Totenschreck appeared beside my elbow, waving around like a magic wand. It brushed my tricep, and I felt a shiver of magical energy pass through my skin. There was no strength in the attack, but there didn’t have to be. He just needed to cut me, and that blade was razor sharp. This was some bullshit, let me tell you. All that time spent training with Clarence to break my Ren faire habits, and now . . .
Now I was playing for points again. Of course.
I took three quick steps back, tossing my shield to the side and activating its transformational powers. The broad face of the tower shield scissored closed, folding like an origami flower into the blunt wedge of a heater. Leather enarme straps slithered tight, bringing the shield against my knuckles. Holding a shield like this is a real fight was a great way to get your wrist broken, but there was no power to the attacks, just speed and that deadly cut.
“Trying something new, eh?” the edgelord asked. “Something you learned from one of your masters?”
“Something I learned on a suburban soccer field, actually, facing dickheads like you,” I said. “You’ve screwed up. You’re about to fight the reigning county champion of full-contact sword and board. Would’ve gone to state, too, if this whole hero thing didn’t come up.”
“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” he asked with a sneer.
“Buddy, I’m a super-nerd!” I shouted, then moved forward, sword hidden behind the shield, poised to strike.
This took the skull-faced warrior off guard. He poked experimentally at the shield, then took a slash at my leading foot. I slammed my shield into his face, then followed that up with a hard block on his wrist with the edge of the heater. He swore and pulled back, but only far enough to reset his guard.
“Okay, so the nerd has some skills,” he said. “You’ll make a good addition to my zombie army.”
“Going to have to disappoint you on that one,” I said.
“We shall see, little man. We shall see.”
He came at me again. His movements were awkward and almost casual, but he didn’t have to move too much to threaten me. That sword was deadly. But he rarely moved more than his sword arm, slashing back and forth like a weed wacker, just as content to strike my shield. He treated the sword like a garden hose. Swing enough, and eventually something will land.
Again, in a real fight that was a terrible strategy. But given how dangerous the slick-green edge of the Totenschreck could be, I had to take it seriously. I spent a lot of time shifting my shield back and forth, only risking a hilt block when I was sure I could keep any counterstrike away from my body. My shield wrist started getting tired from swinging the steel back and forth. Whenever I tried to counterattack, he just fell back, covering his retreat with a whirlwind of green steel that I didn’t dare charge through. I had to think of something before he wore me out.
Watching his movements, I started to see a pattern in his attacks. He wasn’t used to armor, and he’d never fought with a shield or the risk of grievous bodily injury. Not that different from me when I first joined Knight Watch, fresh off the Ren faire circuit and convinced I was God’s gift to swordplay. Clarence had stabbed, sliced, hacked, chopped, skewered, and disemboweled that delusion out of me. Confidence is great, but it’ll get you killed once folks start swinging around three feet of sharp steel.
“What’s the matter, super-nerd? Cat got your secret powers?”
“Just doing some math in my head,” I answered. His third swing kept overreaching. I held my breath as he came in, once, twice, then he drew back for the big hit.
I shifted my shield enough to give him a look at my shoulder. He took the bait, letting me bat his strike aside and go in with the shield. The way he held the blade and his body made it clear that he wasn’t used to being on the defensive, especially not while wearing restrictive metal armor. He tried to dodge out of the path of my blade, but ended up dancing like a puppet whose strings were tangled. As he started to fall backward, I kicked at his sword, making satisfying contact with the thick heel of my boot. Totenschreck went flying.
“No! You bastard!” the edgelord shrieked. Then he hit the ground with a thump. To his credit, he scrambled to his feet faster than I could take advantage, but with his creepy Nazi toy lying in a bush, there wasn’t much he could do to hurt me. I smiled and lowered my shield.
“That’s what happens when you talk too much,” I said. “If you’d just focused on—”
He was still wearing metal gauntlets, I still had a nose and a smart mouth. He punched me with all his emo strength, which was more than enough to send me reeling. I spat blood out of my mouth and blinked tears out of my eyes. My vision cleared just in time to see him scoop up the Totenschreck and scamper into the woods surrounding Edelweiss House.
“I’m going to have to start wearing that damn helm again,” I mumbled, then started after my quarry. Just in time to hear a heavy crash behind me, followed by a chorus of screaming.
The dark valkyries had descended. There were two sizable holes in the B&B’s shingle roof, one on the upper level, and another close to the kitchen. Guests were boiling out of the various exits and streaming from the open windows on the first floor. I spotted Chesa hopping from the porch roof down into the hedgerows below, closely followed by a spear-wielding valkyrie. A flash of light turned the interior of the kitchen into a blast furnace. Seconds later Hildr and Matthew hustled out of the conflagration with Tembo’s limp form strung between them. They dumped the unconscious mage onto the ground. Matthew went to one knee at Tembo’s side and started glowing like a firecracker. The valkyrie grabbed a rusty shovel that was leaning beside the back door and plunged back into the rapidly spreading fire.
I looked up the hill to where the edgelord was disappearing into the surrounding woods, then reluctantly raced through the garden to help my friends. And maybe to keep the Tears out of the hands of those valkyries.
Another blast shook the house, this one more mundane but no less devastating. The few unopened windows blew out, spraying fleeing guests and the remaining members of Knight Watch with broken glass. Chesa and her valhellion opponent were fighting their way through the shrubs, the valkyrie using her spear like a quarterstaff to bully Chesa away from the porch. I reached them just as the valkyrie went on the offensive, stabbing out with her spear in a flurry of blows that threatened to puncture Chesa’s swirling defense. I tackled Chesa, sliding through the rough gravel of the garden path like a homebase runner, shield deployed overhead. The spearpoint rattled off the face of my shield, dimpling the steel.
As soon as we stopped sliding, Chesa pushed me away and rolled to her feet. The valkyrie smirked and swept away, circling the house with long, lazy flaps of her wings.
“That was hardly necessary, John,” she said, straightening the steel-reinforced furl of her skirts and adjusting her hair. “I had things well in order.”
“Sorry, got carried away with the heroism,” I said, getting to my feet. “You looked like you could use a hand.”
“That was a lot more than a hand. That was a full body,” she said as she picked gravel out of her bracers. “Where are the others? Did you get the goth-creeper?”
“They’re down. Saint’s going to have to manage them. Speaking of which . . .”
Our attention went to Tembo and Saint Matthew. The lanky mage was breathing, but his eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and dark blood soaked his robes from hips to hands. Matthew’s diamond-bright skin flashed. We went to his side.
“There’s a lot of damage,” Matthew said. “They kill in weird ways, those girls. We need to get him back to Mundane Actual.”
“Not just him,” I said, gesturing up the garden path. “Bee and Greg are up there. Maybe dead. Tatertots got ’em.”
“I don’t have a lot of juice left,” Matthew said, “but I think Tem can wait. Up the path, you say? Is it safe?”
“Not at all. Our creepy friend is still up there, somewhere.”
“I’ll go with you,” Chesa said. “John, you stay here and hit anything that comes out that door.”
“What’s going on in there?” I asked, peering into the flames.
“Valkyries came through the roof. Went straight to the basement stairs. Lillie went after them with that shotgun, just as Tembo tried to blast them with a fireball. She shot him and ran.”
“Lillie shot him?!” I shouted. “I thought this was the work of those valkyries.”
“Yeah, well, we may have fewer allies here than we thought,” Matthew said. “Come on, Ches. Let’s see what we can do about our dead friends.”
He and Chesa went up the path. I turned back to the burning house. A section of roof collapsed, sending a plume of sparks towering into the air. The interior was blazing and bright, and the heat pressing down on my face made it clear the last thing I should do was go inside.
With a last look at the garden path, I kicked open the door, held my shield over my head, and ran into the flames.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Burning cinders bounced off the face of my shield, heating the metal and stinging my arm beneath. Curls of thick smoke wafted through the ruined kitchen. Abandoned bowls of eyeball soup boiled on the table, while sheets of flame flickered across the ceiling like sulphurous weather.
“Hildr! Lillie!” I shouted, then collapsed into a coughing fit and scalding hot air filled my mouth and lungs. I spat ashes and peered into the smokey haze.
The kitchen was a disaster. Pillars of flame swirled in the hallway that led to the rest of the building, but it felt unlikely that the valkyries would have hidden their prize among the guests. Besides, the hole in the ceiling lay directly over a set of stairs leading, presumably, to some kind of basement. I vaulted the burning remnants of a boot rack and made my way down the stairs.
It was like descending into some kind of mildew-based underworld. A flickering tube of fluorescent light provided thin illumination to an otherwise dark room. The basement was cluttered from wall to wall with all manner of debris, from stacked shoeboxes to dozens of coiled garden hoses, and something that looked suspiciously like an erotic statue of Thor. Narrow pathways led between the stacks, occasionally interrupted by collapsed walls of newspapers and toppled storage bins. A rusted out washer and dryer rattled nervously at the base of the stairs. Moss-stained cinder-block walls stretched into the darkness. Along the far wall, partially obscured by intervening terrain, stood a phalanx of freezers, humming placidly to themselves.
