Chapter 44 — Local Talent

  The old abandoned watchtower on the ridge had a prime position to watch descents from the mountains to the west, and in fact that’s what Cole expected the Vaelians had made it for. The fact the two forces now clashed on the regular just a dozen klicks north had rendered the outpost redundant. The drone map had showed extensive layers of fortifications that stretched up and down the front.

  Cole kept his weapon at the ready, approaching slowly, watching for any sign of movement. He spotted a flicker of motion in one of the windows of the tower, and halted, dropping to one knee. When nothing hostile happened, he waved the rest of the group to fan out and continued the approach to the squat guardhouse at the base of the tower. It was big enough that ten or more men could be hiding inside. Somewhere on his left, he could hear Nutmeg growling inside her gas mask. He wasn’t sure why until a stink hit him, one that the filters couldn’t clean out.

  “Ugh,” said Roxy. “I think I’m going to be sick,”

  “Quiet,” said Cole.

  Ten meters out from the rotted door of the guardhouse, Cole spoke the name again. “Deathbringer Guall.”

  He hadn’t expected a response, but a voice from within the tower roared out.

  “I heard you the first three bloody times! Sully my name with your human tongue once more and I’ll fire on ye, friend or foe be damned. Get in here!”

  Cole moved forward, waving the others in. As he stepped through the door, a spearpoint prodded the base of his throat. Cole looked to the right at the creature pressed against the inner wall of the tower, a goat-eyed creature with a rictus grimace not unlike the trolls. It hissed something in a language Cole didn’t recognize and even the Lewis Field wouldn’t translate. From deeper in the shadows, a hulking form stepped out. It was vaguely humanoid, with purple flesh and a potbelly. An ornate brass tube was in its thick hands, with the business end pointed right at Cole’s chest and a glowing cord smoldering above a powder port. Instead of a head, the creature had a flat disc of flesh, ringed in quivering tentacles, with a mouth of wide, yellow teeth in the middle.

  He certainly looked like a creature that would bring death. Two other demons revealed themselves, one with an elongated head like a dinosaur, the other a slinking, slithery thing.

  “You men of Moriarty?” the Guall growled.

  “Yes,” said Cole. “Lower your weapons.”

  “You first, pup,” growled Guall.

  Cole slowly lowered his rifle back down to its sling, showing the open palm of his other hand. Guall lowered his hand cannon, pinching out the glowing match head. He barked an order at his own man, who pulled back the spear.

  “Bring your people in,” said Guall. “It’s going to rain.”

  Cole signaled for the others. Howie and Roxy entered.

  “Besson?” Cole asked on his radio.

  “On overwatch,” he said. “There are demons in the woods to the east and west.”

  Cole looked up. “You have others in the forest covering the approaches,” he said.

  Guall grunted an affirmation as he eased his bulk down onto a decrepit table. He pulled out a pipe that looked like it was carved from a human clavicle and started to pack it. “Foolish not to. Can’t be too careful with humans. Devious lot. Weren’t expecting you for some hours, yet.”

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  Cole moved to the other side of the decrepit table and sat down on an old stool made from a section of log. “Gas attack advanced our pace. That a problem?”

  Guall lit his pipe. Rather than fitting it to his mouth, he plugged the stem into one of a pair of holes in his neck and drew yellowish smoke that leaked from between his teeth. “Not at all. Just the four of you?”

  “We’ve got a dog,”

  “Wassat?”

  Cole considered. “A bit like a hunter troll, but cuter.”

  Guall barked a laugh, and the goat-eyed creature started to hiss repeatedly—what Cole took for its version of laughter. The rest must have either not understood them or just didn’t think Cole was that funny.

  The Deathbringer took another long drag on his pipe. “Suppose that’ll do. We’re just to cause a ruckus, as I understand. Moriarty has the difficult part. Sit. Rest. Chuta!” he craned his neck, looking at the snake-like thing in the rafters. “Chuta, the air!”

  The serpentine demon’s eyes glowed. Cole felt a spell being worked. A moment later, Guall mimed taking off a mask, and Cole hesitantly slid his gas mask back over his face and inhaled. The air in the tower was still stale and acrid, but breathable enough. His chem paper hadn’t shown any additional traces, either. Whatever Chuta had done cleared the air enough for their human lungs. Roxy and Howie took off their masks as well. Roxy had the highest resilience of any of them, and it seemed as though the air didn’t bother her. Howie turned a bit green and tried to cover a few coughs.

  “How long you been fighting, pup?” asked Guall, massaging a twisted scar on his leg.

  “I joined the Army four years ago,” said Cole.

  “So little…” the big demon muttered. “I’ve been fighting since the Scar opened,” he said. Cole got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the one on his leg. “How much you know about this place?”

  Cole leaned back. “Only what we need to take our kid back from the Vaelians,” he said.

  “Vaelians,” scoffed Guall. He thumped a fist on the table. “They were plenty pleased with stealing the essence of our realm to power their spells.” The tentacled mouth smiled. “Not so pleased when we invited ourselves along. I’ve been slaughtering humans for over one-hundred years. Does that bother you, human?”

  Cole wasn’t sure where to look on the creature to stare it in the eye—or really how the thing perceived him at all. But he wasn’t about to show weakness. “Humans on Earth slaughtered each other for the last ten thousand years. What you and the Vaelians do to each other once we’re gone is your own business.”

  Guall said something in a language Cole couldn’t understand, and this time all of his companions added their form of laughter. The Deathbringer leaned in. “Moriarty said something not unlike that. That’s why I like Earth humans. You’re almost as merciless as we are.”

  You have no idea.

  Guall leaned back again. “You care little, so long as you can take him away. I care not, so long as he’s gone. They say he has the power to heal the Scars—or will, once tracted. Then the Vaelians will continue to steal our essence as they wish to fuel their spells. I would not see this come to pass. Do as you will. The next hours are your own.”

  Outside, rain started to patter with the rotten egg smell of sulfur. Acid rain, thought Cole. From the sulphur dioxide in the clouds. A few moments later, Besson and Nutmeg came in, shaking off the water. Nutmeg caught sight of the demons and dug her paws in, growling, with her hackles raised.

  “Little troll!” said Guall, pointing at the dog. His men laughed again.

  Cole got up, leaving Guall and his men and finding a corner of the squat guardhouse for him and the others.

  “Easy, girl,” muttered Besson, patting Nutmeg on her flank and herding her along with the rest of the group. He slid off her gas mask and had to clamp down on her muzzle to keep her from barking and snarling at the locals. The goat-eyed demon barked back, causing the warband to laugh again.

  Cole lowered his voice. “How many did you make outside?” he asked.

  “At least two,” said Besson. “If there was one further north, I didn’t spot them.”

  “There’s at least one more we haven’t seen,” said Cole.

  Howie shifted nervously. “How do you know?” he asked.

  “I can hear him in the attic,” said Cole. He wrinkled his nose. “And smell him, when he’s right over top of us.” He turned his face up, seeing a faint yellow eye glowing between a crack in the boards. It locked his gaze for a few moments before moving on with a low growl. The acrid, metallic battery-acid smell went with it.

  Roxy poured some of her canteen into an open packet of instant coffee, pinching the end and shaking it around. “If it comes down to it, you can always use your ability. It shows you people nearby, right?”

  That was true. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to know if it would paint Guall and his warband as friends or foes.