008

Move!

Sarge’s command was a thunderclap inside Frank’s head. It wasn’t a matter of volume; Sarge’s voice was always loud. It was the feeling that accompanied the command, a red-hot pulse of panic fired along the silvery filaments of every nerve in his body. In an instant, his heart was racing and his gunmetal gray skin prickled with goose flesh.

Despite the adrenaline rush, his body had yet to recover from the effects of the Hangover. He still looked like some barbaric god of war, but he had the stamina of the washed up, skinny-fat, cancer-riddled junkie he truly was.

Cancer.

It was the first time since arriving in this place that he’d allowed himself to use that word. Maybe it was because he sensed the end was near.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” Frank dropped his saber and began wrestling the shield off his back. They were in the middle of the clearing, out in the open, with no cover. Even worse, the raiders had the high ground. The first volley of spears was likely to kill them all, unless they got behind something. Fast.

“We?” Nanesh said. “The big one is no friend of ours.”

“Please,” Manesh said. “He can help.”

“We don’t need –”

The spear whistled between Frank and the twins, the air thrumming in its wake.

The strength of the Copper Men was a terrifying sight to behold in his weakened state. During their first fight, he had guessed the raiders to be about as strong as teenage boys – athletic boys, but boys nonetheless. Their danger, it seemed at the time, was due to pack tactics and superior numbers. That first impression had been tainted by his recent transformation though, by the way he’d been practically throbbing with newfound power. Now, returned to a physical state that was closer to Clark Kent than Superman, he appreciated just how strong and fast these bastards truly were, each one an Olympic athlete.

He managed to get the shield off his back and now secured it, edge up, on a nearby stone. The stone stood shin-high and about the width of his shoulders. It wasn’t much, but the added height meant he could cover his legs and his head, if he crouched low enough.

Just as he was hunkering down, another spear shot toward him from the clifftop. It struck the shield dead center, its bronze tip shattering on the rearing stallion emblem and the impact sending painful tremors through Frank’s arm. Reaching up, he grabbed the twins by their closest limb – maybe an arm, maybe not – and yanked them down behind cover. Seconds later, a full volley descended on the clearing.

Heavy blows hammered the shield and a cloud of spears sailed overhead. Behind him, Grizsix skittered and dodged. Several spears struck her, the beast bucking and hissing in pain, but she was fitted with an oddly-shaped leather saddle (or a perfectly-shaped one, if you were the twins) and her hide was thick enough that only one spear stuck. She had suffered several wounds earlier though, before answering Nanesh’s call, and all told, six or seven spears now pincushioned her back.

“She’s hurt,” Manesh said. “Help ‘er!”

“Too dangerous,” Nanesh said. “We’re dead if we move.”

“We gotta get out of here,” Frank asked. “How fast can she run?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“If she’s fast, we can ride her out of the canyon. We just have to time the run between volleys.”

“She don’t belong to the big one,” Nanesh said. “She goes where I tell her to go.”

“No,” Manesh shouted, “she goes where I tell her. She never listens to you.”

“Well, she ain’t going nowhere without us. And I ain’t going nowhere with him.”

“I spared your life,” Frank said. “You owe me.”

“Oh, I owe the big guy, all right. And Nanesh always pays his debts.”

Frank surveyed the battlefield, trying to formulate a plan. The ranks of Copper Men on the cliff had swelled to thirty or more, and worse still, they held the high ground. His shield had saved them from the first volley, but already the raiders were adapting. They fanned out, spreading along the lip of the rim to encircle him. A few of the braver fighters were climbing down the steep walls into the clearing, descending with the swinging grace of chimps. And from every direction came high-pitched war cries, screeching howls of hatred and joy.

Frank wasn’t a numbers guy, but the odds seemed stacked against him right now.

Numbers.

That was it!

Frank looked to Nanesh. “Hey, you hate me, don’t you?”

“With every bone in my body,” Nanesh said.

“Good, that’ll make it easier.”

“Make what easier?”

Frank turned to Manesh, trying to maintain eye contact as best he could. “You control Grizsix?”

“I don’t control her,” Manesh said, his eyestalks bristling at the implication. “I just speak with her.”

“And you want to get her out of here, right? Before something bad happens to her.”

“Stop upsetting him,’ Nanesh said.

“Yes, I want to keep her safe.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’re gonna do. Just answer me one question. Do you and your brother feel each other’s pain?”

“Only in the parts we share.”

Frank stood up, dragging the twins to their feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Forgive me,” he said. Then lowering his shield, in full view of the raiders, he headbutted Nanesh as hard as he could. It was the same technique he’d been on the receiving end of once upon a time in Dublin, at that pub after the Sgt. Skulltaker 2 premiere. Quick snap of the neck, forehead to nose, nothing held back.

The blow landed squarely and knocked Nanesh unconscious, same as it did to Frank all those years ago. He hadn’t regained his strength yet, but then it didn’t take much to put Nanesh’s lights out, frail as he was. In fact, it was a good thing Frank was still weakened. A blow like that at full force was liable to cave the poor bastard’s skull in.

Manesh screamed, and Frank eased him to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Manesh said.

“What I had to.”

“They’re going to kill you. Get down.”

“No,” Frank said, turning to face the raiders. “They need to see me.”

The Copper Men had been drunk with bloodlust only moments ago, howling and stamping and slapping their shields. A few of the bigger warriors had taken to attacking their smaller brethren in an attempt to establish order, but their efforts were in vain. The entire scene was like some savage parade, equal parts violent and celebratory.

As they watched Frank knock Nanesh unconscious though, and as a creeping dread spread through their ranks, one by one the screeching fell silent and the dancing stopped. Their faces contorted into looks of abject terror at the sight of Frank’s powerful form, his ruthless aggression, his capacity for violence. Even the ones inured to Frank’s posturing were stunned by this sudden sea-change in the mood of their battle brothers.

The fear emanating from the horde grew so thick it hung like smog over the clearing, a smog only Frank could sense.

Wake of Terror

Psychoplasm Cost: Passive

32 Will saves attempted.

21 fails. 11 passes.

Psionic Reserve: 85/100

This, Frank realized, was the only advantage he had over the raiders. He was outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded. He couldn’t hope to match the might of even a single Copper Man in his current state, never mind a band of them. And they were sure to catch him if he fled on foot.

But fear wasn’t a matter of might or speed or positioning. Fear was a matter of will, his versus theirs.

The Hangover hadn’t affected his will, and neither had the headaches, or the radiation, or the bad box office numbers, or the way his Dad loved Danny more, or the chemo, or the terrible reviews, or the drugs, or the bullet to his chest. His force of personality, all things considered, was in pretty good shape.

He just hadn’t had an occasion to showcase it in a while.

You’re at your best in front of crowd.

“Here’s hoping, Mr Argyle.” With two fingers, he cut a strange symbol in the air and the eyes of the skull on his belt flashed with black fire. This time, he was prepared for the pinching sting under his navel. But nothing, not in this world or any other, could prepare him for the rush that followed.

Fear Eater

Psychoplasm Cost: 5

+21 Might

Psionic Reserve: 85/100

His heart thumped once, a single powerful contraction that felt like a mule kick to the chest. Then it stopped. He waited for it to start up again, counting Mississippi’s like a kid playing hide and seek. At four Mississippi it beat again, a thunderous rib-shaking KA-BOOM that rattled his spine and nearly sent him crashing to the floor.

His body erupted with power. Electric fire exploded in his veins and his muscles swelled, growing so fat and full he thought they would burst through his skin.

He had never OD’d before. He’d come close a time or two, but never actually crossed the finish line. He wondered if it wasn’t similar to what he was experiencing now though, a sudden overwhelming sensation of too-good, too-quick that left you feeling out of control and afraid.

The only thing he could truly compare this too though, was the last time he’d used Fear Eater. But if that was like chugging a beer, imbibing more than you should at a pace that was testing your limits, this was like drinking from a fire hose.

He breathed deep, his lungs expanding until they were about to pop, and then he roared, the air practically shaking with his war cry. As if to answer this challenge, a heavy stone arced toward him from up ahead in the clearing.

Several of the Copper Men had managed to make landfall after climbing down the cliff, and although three or four of them now hugged the wall in fear of Frank’s wrathful presence, one raider stood out from the rest. It was Carnithrax’s flag bearer.

He was armored in a chitinous blue shell, which was fitted to his chest like a cuirass and reinforced with bronze plates. He still bore the battle flag on his back. Next to it was strapped a spear made of the same black bone as Carnithrax’s bow, the spear twelve feet long and tipped in polished bronze. He carried a heavy shield, too, which meant he must have thrown that rock one-handed, an impressive feat given it was the size of a car tire.

Frank barely managed to raise his shield, swatting the stone away. The force of the blow, which only moments ago would have crushed his shoulder, now merely knocked him to the ground.

The flag bearer turned to face his comrades on the rim, pumping his arms in the air like a performer trying to hype a crowd. Several of the Copper Man grunted and slapped their shields in approval. Frank recognized the gesture immediately. The flag bearer was trying to show his men that he wasn’t afraid, that they shouldn’t be either. And fucking hell, it seemed to be working.

“You want a show?” Frank shouted, climbing to his feet. “I’ll give you a show.”

Bending down, he lifted the rock he had been using for cover, hoisting it up as smoothly as a weightlifter executing a clean-and-jerk. He shifted the rock onto his right shoulder, steadied himself, and then launched it one-handed like a shot put. The thing must have weighed eight hundred pounds.

The rock sailed across the clearing, scattering the band of raiders. It missed the ducking flag bearer by inches, close enough to bend the plume of blue horse hair atop his helm. But two men behind him weren’t so lucky. The rock smashed them against the cliff like bugs, leaving twin smears of blood and gore.

The raiders gathered on the clifftop began to panic again at this exhibition of power. Some turned and fled. The flag bearer shouted up to them from the clearing. Frank couldn’t understand his grunts and yelps, but he could imagine the message.

He pictured the William Wallace speech from Braveheart, the scene in 300 where Leonidas promises his Spartans that tonight they dine in hell, Jules in Pulp Fiction reciting Ezekiel 25:17.

To Frank’s amazement, the speech seemed to work. Several of the Copper Men that had been frozen by fear now took fresh grips on their weapons, made tentative steps toward the edge of the cliff. A few even began the steep climb down to join their comrades in the clearing.

Frank spared a quick glance over his shoulder and caught sight of Grizsix hunkered down by the twins, shielding their body with her own. A giant battle lizard sure would help even the odds right about now, he thought. As if in response, she snapped her twin tails at him, each tail cracking like a bullwhip.

When Frank faced forward again, the flag bearer’s dreadful black spear was racing toward him. Moving on pure instinct, he dove to the side, his bare hand swatting in desperation. He hit the ground and rolled and when he came up again, he had the giant spear gripped tight in his fist. In one continuous motion, he hurled it back at his attacker.

The flag bearer, himself acting on instinct, raised his shield to block. It was the same movement he had drilled his entire life and executed countless times in battles past. But this was not your typical spear, nor your typical thrower.

The spear punched straight through the hardened bronze of the flag bearer’s shield. It struck the carapace shell that armored the man’s chest and passed through that and then passed through the man as well. It left an exit wound the size of a shotgun blast, ejecting blood and guts and ribs and vertebrae, practically turning the flag bearer inside out.

All hell broke loose then. The raiders shrieked as one and then scattered in a mad stampede, everyone pushing and shoving and jostling to get away. Several men got trampled in the rush and a few who tried to climb out of harm's way slipped and fell to their deaths. Within minutes, the clearing was empty and Frank was the last man standing.

He walked back to the twins, Grizsix stepping forward to meet him and hissing a warning to keep away.

“Easy girl,” Frank said.

“What happened?” Manesh called. “I couldn’t see.”

“They broke and ran. But they’re not gone for good. They’ll regroup and be back when their fear wears off.”

“What now?”

“Now we head out of Dodge, kimosabe.”

Manesh called off Grizsix and Frank sat the twins up cautiously, afraid of his own strength now. Nanesh began to stir from his stupor. Frank went to gather Thune.

He found the head lying face down in a patch of wild flowers. Thune made no sound as he picked him up, and for a second, he thought the old magister was dead – dead-dead that is. As he made to pluck the knife out of his face though, Thune’s good eye snapped open.

“Touch that dagger at thy peril.”

“Are you in pain?” Frank asked.

“More pain than thou canst imagine. But I fear not for my eye; I fear for thee, Frank Farrell.”

“I know. Carnithrax is still out there. He’ll regroup and –”

“No, the danger is not from the Copper Men. The danger is from within. The Allflesh … it seeks to kill thee.”