Matt Archer: Legend (17 page)

Brandt raised his knife and took a step toward the creature,
but I held up a hand. “Wait!”

It wouldn’t have come back and faced all of us alone if it
didn’t want something. The creature glanced around the group before fixing its
gaze on me. It stared into my eyes intently; unwilling to back down, I stared
right back, ready for whatever it threw at me.

 
Wielder, can you hear me?
The voice speaking in my
head was raspy, like an old man’s.

Okay, I wasn’t expecting
that
.

Tink pushed to the front of my brain and answered,
Of
course we can. What do you want?

The Cat stood taller and growled deep in its chest.
I
wish to speak to your proxy, not to you. I have a message from my master.

The knife-spirit stepped back.
Speak with him, then.

Proxy? And why could I hear monsters in my head all of a
sudden? “What’s this about?”

“Matt?” Uncle Mike asked, frowning in concern.

I waved him off. “I’ll take the message. I promise no harm
will come to you.”

That is not a promise you can keep, young one.
The
Cat’s dark, slitted eyes bored into mine.
I will die soon; the bronze is
looking to strike even now. That is of no matter to me. I was created to a
specific purpose; my life was destined to be short. My master’s message is
simple: leave this place. Do not return. He will stop the attacks if you go.

Tink, never one to stay out a conversation even when asked,
said,
Your master must not value your life very much, because he sent you on
a fool’s errand. My proxy cannot leave this place until the task is finished,
as you well know.

The monster nodded, seeming almost weary.
He thought that
would be your answer, and I foresaw the risks, but I completed my task as
ordered.

 The Cat turned to leave, cradling its hurt paw. Before I
could shout stop, before it could even go three steps, Brandt jumped on the
creature’s back and slit its throat with his knife. The bronze handle flashed
green when the blade came in contact with the Cat’s blood. Brandt slid off its
back and the Cat clutched its throat as orange blood spilled through its
fingers. It shot me a rueful look before slumping to the ground.

A chill seized me. Somehow it had known that not only would
it die, but how. Brandt’s knife was the only one with a bronze handle.

I whirled around on Brandt. “He might’ve had more to say!”

“It was trying to get away, Archer.” Brandt invaded my
personal space, standing so we were nose-to-nose. “Don’t let your ability to
hear them cloud your judgment. We could
not
let that thing roam free,
understand?”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. This time Brandt
was right. Even the Cat knew it; the monster had known it was going to its
death. All of them had, but they were under the thrall of something they
couldn’t deny.

Deep in the cellar of my mind, the dark voice began its
chant again. That the voice was quieter, less insistent, didn’t matter. The
owner of the voice wanted us gone…or dead. And from the voice’s tone, it didn’t
really care which as long as we weren’t around to bother it anymore.

I took a step away from Brandt and said, “We should to clean
up and get some rest. I don’t think we’ll see anything else tonight, but we
ought to stay here just in case. Tomorrow we need to take another trip to those
cliffs. I have a feeling we’ll find something out there this time.”

Then I walked back to the Humvee and, overcome by a sudden
migraine, crawled into the back seat. I caught a glimpse of my eyes in the
rearview mirror before I stretched out.

They were blue again.

As I drifted off into an uneasy sleep, a tiny sliver of
yellow appeared in the night sky through the back windshield, and just like
that, the blood-red moon was gone.

“Dude, you gotta stop doing that,” Will was saying.

“What?” I mumbled, struggling to wake up from a dark dream I
couldn’t quite remember. The sun was bright and hot on my face through the back
windshield of the Humvee. I’d been out a long time, apparently. “Sleeping like
the dead after a fight?”

“Yeah. You didn’t used to do this,” Will said. “You were
tired after a hunt, sure, but not comatose.”

I opened my eyes and sat up slowly, glad when it didn’t make
me sick. My head didn’t hurt, exactly, but it did feel like my skull was full
of Silly String—everything was loose and puffy in there.

“It’s getting worse.”

Will leaned on the passenger window frame, frowning. “I’ve
noticed.”

It was the dark this time
, the knife-spirit murmured.
You had contact with them, like with the Takers last year. It hurts.

No kidding. “Can you do anything to shield me better?”

We needed the message.
She sounded apologetic.
I
had to give him access.

“Him, huh? The Cats were guys?”

This breed seemed to be exclusively male. Bred to fight.

That made me laugh for some weird reason. I just had this
thought of Mamie watching an old
Star Trek: The Next Generation
rerun
and hearing the Klingon bellow, “Perhaps today
is
a good day to die!” It
wasn’t that funny if you really thought about it, true, but maybe laughing at
irrelevant things was a good coping mechanism. On the other hand, those
monsters were just a scare tactic, cannon fodder, nothing more. We’d be facing
worse soon.

“Well, it was a waste of manpower if you ask me,” I said.
“Why would their master do that?”

A warning? Maybe to see if we had any weaknesses. I do
not know; and I don’t like not knowing. We’ll have to pay him a visit today.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“You know, I think I’ve been around this team too long,”
Will said. “I don’t find it weird to watch you talk to yourself.”

“That’s because I’m not talking to myself, jackwagon,” I
said, but I felt a little better. “Everybody else up?”

Will yanked open the passenger door and gave me a hand
getting out of the back seat. “Yep. They put me on ‘fetch loser-Matt’ duty and
started on breakfast without us, so get moving.”

He took off at an easy jog, but I wasn’t in the mood to do
more than plod. Now that the sun had risen, I got a good look at the results of
last night’s brawl—scorched crops, demolished houses, broken pottery…and a
bunch of relieved faces. The whole scene was straight out of a fairy tale:
monsters had sacked the village, but the people were just happy to be alive.

Zenka came to join me as I inspected the damage. “We
survived the night.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We still made a mess, though.”

“You sound hesitant.” She cocked her head. “Is something the
matter?”

I grunted. She probably already knew but, just like Jorge, I
think she wanted to hear me say it. I closed my eyes a minute. The dark voice
hissed at me and the knife-spirit hissed back. They were using my head as a
conference bridge, and I didn’t appreciate it.

“The Cats’ leader has been calling to me ever since the
eclipse started. Last night was just the first wave, a warning.”

When I opened my eyes again, Zenka was frowning. “I thought
as much. I didn’t want to tell the others; they’ve dealt with enough terror.
Will you be able to find it and destroy it?”

“Find it? Probably.” I squinted at the sun as it rose above
the eastern horizon. I’d never been quite as glad to see its piecing white
light and the safety it brought. “Destroy it? Not sure, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all we can ask.” Zenka patted my arm and went to
greet a few families who had gathered to speak with her. I turned the other
way, toward the makeshift camp the rest of the team had set up.

Guys, rumpled in dirty BDUs, sat on crates or on the ground,
shoveling an array of breakfast foods into their mouths. Johnson held up a
forkful of something that might’ve been an omelet—or it could’ve been an alien
life form—grimaced, and set his fork back down.

“Just a note,” Will said as I made my way over. He nodded at
Lieutenant Johnson. “Don’t pick the Spanish omelet MRE.”

“Noted,” I said. “I’d give anything for my mom’s cinnamon
rolls right about now.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Will said. “I’ll get homesick
and cry.”

I laughed; it felt good. “Well, breakfast won’t taste any
better for putting it off. Maybe there’s something over there that won’t give
me food poisoning.”

After digging through the chow crate for a few minutes, I
found a sausage biscuit and fruit cup that didn’t suck. I pulled up a piece of
ground next to Will and wolfed the MRE down, absolutely starving. The headache
and nausea of last night were long gone; good thing, too. Tink was busy,
buzzing along my nerve endings with the speed of a meth-addicted hamster.

As I crumpled up my trash, two boys from the village
approached Will and me. The littler one held out a grubby hand; resting on his
palm was a small, smooth stone. It was some kind of ore, and a vein of glitter
ran across the stone’s middle.

“What’s this?” I asked, not sure they spoke English.

The boy with the rock shot a questioning look at the bigger
boy, who said, “It’s a present. He keeps rocks and this is his favorite.”

I glanced between the boys. “He’s giving it to me?”

The bigger boy translated and they both nodded. I reached
out to take the rock and the little boy grinned. Will leaned over my hand,
pretending to examine the stone with great attention.

“That’s a nice rock,” he said, nodding seriously at the
boys. “Very nice.”

The boys burst into nervous laughter, and the older one
said, “Thank you. He wanted you to have his best rock.”

This
was why I was out here. To keep people safe and
earn rocks from little boys who didn’t have much more to give. A lump grew in
my throat, but I smiled and thanked him.

“You speak good English, by the way,” Will said to the
bigger boy.

He stood a little taller. “I guide the tourists when they
come out to see the desert.”

“Well, there you go,” Will said. We took another minute to
admire the rock before Uncle Mike came over. The boys seemed a little
intimidated by him and they scampered away, waving at us.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“I got a rock,” I said, holding up my prize. “Better payment
than the Army’s contractor fees.”

“I’ll see if the general would be willing to pay you in
shiny objects going forward,” Uncle Mike said, with a sly smile.

“Unnecessary,” I said quickly. “I’ll just consider the rock
a bonus.”

Even though he laughed, I was struck by how exhausted he
looked. Dark stubble covered his face, with more flecks of gray than brown in
the mix, and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Will looked only a little
better, though, so I couldn’t blame Mike’s worn out expression on his age. A
near-all-nighter was a beating whether you were seventeen or forty.

“So what’s up, Major?” Will asked around his last bite of
breakfast. He’d gone through two French Toast MREs already; I wasn’t planning
on sitting next to him on the ride out to the cliffs if Mike gave us a green
light to go. Will could just puke on Johnson instead.

“I’m only going to say this once, because we’re all dog-tired.”
Uncle Mike massaged his temples. “Cruessan, using Axe as an incendiary device
is not an Army approved activity. Try that again, and I’ll have to send you
home.”

“It’s not his fault,” I said. Annoyance flared in my belly.
“I knew I’d need help, and since the Cats were vulnerable to fire, we came up
with that idea together.”

Mike threw up his hands. “If you needed fire support,
Dorland has six flamethrowers. There was no need to play ‘aftershave of death’
out here!”

Yeah, and every last one of Dorland’s flamethrowers were
off-limits to Will. I wasn’t about to apologize; it’d worked, which was enough
for me. “Sir, yes sir.”

My uncle gave me a long look, like he didn’t believe me for
a second. “Okay. Zenka tells me you think you know where the Cats’ leader is?”

“It’s in those same cliffs,” I said. “It was hiding before,
but now it’s restless so maybe we can find it.”

“Setting us up for an ambush?” Will asked. “Because that’s
what it sounds like.”

I shrugged. “Probably, but it’s the source. If we take the
head guy out, I doubt Zenka’s people—or anyone else—will see any more monsters
out here.”

“That may be true, but I agree with Will—I bet it’s lying in
wait for us,” Uncle Mike said. He turned his head left, then right, and I heard
something pop in his neck. He sighed in relief. “Then again, it’ll be easier to
corner it during daylight hours. So far, we haven’t seen many monsters come out
during the day.” He paused, thinking it over. “I think we have to go.”

I nodded at Will. “You ready to walk into a trap?”

His smile could’ve put the devil to shame for all the
trouble it promised. “I wouldn’t miss the Boss Battle for anything, dude. Not
for anything.”

We left early in the afternoon, traveling in a convoy of
three Humvees. Half of our enlisted guys stayed with Lieutenant Johnson to
watch over the village while we were gone. Even though it went unsaid, they
also stayed behind to report to Colonel Black and recover our remains if we
didn’t come back. I didn’t like to think about that, though.

The rest of my team, including monster-freak Tyson, came
along with us. Ramirez brought Murphy and another few guys, and Brandt brought
three of his own men. Every soldier had the same grim, wiped look on his face.
But they weren’t beaten; everyone seemed keyed up and ready to brawl as we
began our drive.

The trip was hot, bumpy and dull. Sandy plains, dotted with
scrub brush, stretched out as far as I could see, and the sun blazed down,
baking everything, including us. I ran a hand over my head and it came away
wet. I was really hoping the next op would call for mountaineering duty; this
desert crap was getting ridiculous.

Ramirez sat across from me. His face was bathed with sweat
and his right hand twitched in his lap. Last night’s assault had been expected
and planned out. Today was a different story. After what he went through last
year, I was a little worried about what he’d do if we ended up facing some
caves.

“You ready?” I asked him.

Ramirez met my gaze. “Have to be.” His expression grew hard,
drawing his dark eyebrows together in a V. “And don’t ask me again.”

I held up a hand, nodding. I should’ve known better than to
question him in front of everyone else. Still, I was kind of reassured by how
pissed he’d gotten. An angry wielder would fight tough.

“We’re here,” Murphy said. He’d ridden shotgun while Staff
Sergeant Klimmett drove. Klimmett had been the medic on a number of my
missions, but this was the first time he’d come out on a live op with us. That
didn’t give me much confidence, but maybe he just felt like some action. Medic
or not, I’d seen Klimmett spar with Murphy and take him down once or twice,
which was funny given that Klimmett looked more like an accountant with his
neatly trimmed brown hair and average build…and that Murph outweighed him by at
least thirty pounds. Klimmett was a Green Beret, though, and I’d known for a
while that looks could be deceiving when it came to badassedness.

The sand crunched under my boots as I climbed down from the
Humvee. Like a scar running across the plain, an old, dry riverbed cut through
the reddish earth, creating a chasm. I walked up to the edge. Twenty feet down,
a wide canyon, bleak and devoid of plants, stretched on for miles. The only
word I could come up with to describe the place was godforsaken. The knife
hummed in agreement.

The dark voice muttered angrily in return, sounding offended
that we came onto its land after it told us to leave. Good—that meant we were
in the right place. I turned to Major Ramirez. “I think we need to go down
there.”

He checked out the canyon and a shudder ran through his
entire body. “I think you’re right.”

Brandt came over, shaking his head. Sweat beaded along his
hairline, and his face was red. “We can’t just go down there and knock on its
front door. Maybe we should wait it out up here. It’ll come out at some point,
right?”

“Yeah, but we lose the advantage of daylight if we wait for
it.” I closed my eyes, seeking Tink. “And what do you think?”

That we have little choice, unless you are willing to
abandon Zenka’s people. It ends here, or it doesn’t ever end. It has the
patience of millennia. You have the patience of men. Who do you think can wait
longer?

Right.

I opened my eyes to find Uncle Mike had joined us. “We go
now.”

Without asking any questions, Uncle Mike, now in full Major
Tannen mode, commanded the soldiers who’d approached the side of the cliff.
“We’re climbing down. Get us ready.”

It took less than five minutes for Tyson and Lanningham to
prepare gear to rappel down the wall. The other teams did the same. While
Lanningham passed out climbing harnesses, Tyson looked for a good place to tie
in. We didn’t have much in the way of trees or big rocks for anchors, so Tyson
used the D-rings affixed to the bumper of the Humvee.

He pointed at his handiwork. “This might be the safest
tie-in point I’ve ever used. Nothing’s gonna move that truck. Not even Murph.”

“I heard that,” Murphy barked.

Once we were good to go, Tyson and Lanningham went down
first—if you tie the rope, you test it, apparently—and set up to belay for the
rest of my team. When my turn came, I tossed my jacket over the side, thinking
I’d die of heat stroke unless I shed some clothes. I did have enough sense to
put on my climbing gloves, though. Will lined up next to me, gave me a thumbs
up and we tipped over the edge together.

The canyon was harsh, cut from tan rocks bleached by the sun
until they looked like bones, and heat radiated from the wall in waves. It felt
like I was trapped in a brick pizza oven. Sweat ran into my eyes but I couldn’t
do anything about it because both my hands were occupied with keeping me from
falling down the rock face.

When I hit the bottom, heat seeped through the thick soles
of my boots, and the air shimmered. Will dropped next to me, took one look
around and said, “Dude, if there isn’t a gate to Hell open around here, I’ll be
totally shocked.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.” I scanned the rock
line. The ground was broken in spots, lined with thin crevices that were
rounded on the sides, like the rock had been worn away back when this was a
river. While the rest of the team came down the wall, I knelt next to one of
the long cracks and tried to see down into it. Nothing but darkness. Even when
I poured sand into the hole, it whispered away. Despite the punishing heat, I
got that cold feeling along my spine, and my nerves buzzed. The knife-spirit
muttered something ominous, but unintelligible, in my head.

“We’re close,” I said. “Feel anything?”

Will squinted his eyes. “Something’s off, but I can’t put my
finger on it.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Whatever’s down there, it’s making my
hair stand on end. The knife doesn’t like it at all.”

Brandt and Ramirez came up behind me and Brandt shook his
head. “I don’t feel a thing, kid. Are you sure this is the place?”

I stared at him; Brandt hadn’t been making fun of me. He
sounded sincere—and sincerely worried because he couldn’t sense the danger.
Maybe he was finally coming around to all this “knife-spirit mumbo jumbo.”

Ramirez shouldered past Brandt. “Archer’s right. This is the
place.”

The rest of the team assembled around us, Will at my right shoulder,
Murphy at Ramirez’s left. Klimmett and Lanningham set up mobile communications
to do a radar sweep of the area and gave the major a nod when they went green.

“Anything moving out here?” Ramirez asked them.

Klimmett started shaking his head, then stopped and his
mouth fell open. “God be good, sir!”

“What you got?” Brandt asked, sounding impatient.

The sergeant’s face went pale. “Take a look, sir.”

We all crowded around the radar screen. All around us, from
every direction, masses of green advanced on our position. Will hissed a breath
through his teeth.

“But where are they coming from?” Tyson asked. He kept
turning in circles, scanning the canyon. “There’s nothing out here.”

Will pointed in the distance. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Green fog oozed from between those crevices in the rock. As
soon as it hit the sunlight, the fog broke up and started to form into solid
creatures. It was the first time I’d seen demons coalesce in broad
daylight—we’d been so wrong to think the sun would protect us.

Unnerved, I had my knife out before they took shape, and
Will was at my side with a rifle. After Afghanistan, his reluctance to carry a
firearm had disappeared and I was very glad he’d turned out to be a good shot.

The green mist congealed together into squatty creatures.
Their bodies were comically round, with no head to speak of. They had faces,
sure, but it was all one piece with the rest of their torsos, and short legs somehow
kept them upright. One held out an unnaturally long arm, and howled, giving us
a good view of a huge mouth and three rows of pointed teeth.

The rest shrieked in response, then they charged us.

I expected them to waddle, given the little legs and
too-long arms. It was a shock when they started running like apes, using their
hands to propel themselves forward, careening our direction like a green
tsunami.

Brandt swore loudly and took point at my left. Ramirez took
the right. A triangle trying to fight a circle. Tenth grade geometry had been
enough to tell me this wouldn’t work out well.

“Fan out! Fan out!” Ramirez yelled. “Use everything we’ve
got!”

Dalton took to heaving grenades into the monsters’ flanks and
Will opened fire with his assault rifle. To my surprise, the bullets did some
damage and green slime splattered the ground. Once the team saw that, the fight
became open season on ordinance. Lanningham and Tyson got busy using the
monsters for target practice. Someone else—I couldn’t see who, probably
Murphy—uncorked a flamethrower, turning the whole mess into a demon barbeque.

Any Greenies that got through Dorland’s barrage of grenades
were cut down by bullets and blades. The knife and I reached a rhythm: slice,
stab, swipe, duck, thrust, turn, slash. A pile of little green goblins grew at
my feet. When I turned to take another out, I saw that Ramirez and Brandt had
similar heaps of bodies around them.

For a minute, I thought we had it, that the dark master had
screwed up somehow and we’d clean out this nest without incident then go finish
him off, too. The people here would be able to sleep again without fear of
being sucked dry. But the green demons kept coming, wave after wave, until my
arm was sore and I had blisters on my knife hand. They were a never-ending tide
and it was only a matter of time before they got the upper hand.

“We’re low on ammo!” Will shouted.

“Down to six grenades,” Dorland yelled.

“I’m out of fuel,” Murphy said. “Flamethrower’s had it!”

“Tink, I could use some help here!” I grunted, slicing
through yet another Greenie.

My power is diminishing too quickly,
she murmured.
That was the reason for last night’s attack. To sap my strength, and that of my
brothers. They used the dark moon to tax us ahead of this fight.

“So, what, you’re out of gas? Well, that’s just great,” I
said, whirling to stab a monster who’d flung itself at my back. “We need
whatever backup you can give us.”

Oh, yes, blame the spirit. It’s all my fault that this
dark brother has an entire festering army at his command.
She snorted in my
head.
I’ll see what I can do.

Before I could mouth off that she was the one who led us
here, Tink pressed against my mind, giving me a small burst of energy. I swiped
through two Greenies with one slash, but I could tell we were on twilight
power. And still the crowd of monsters kept growing.

One of Brandt’s guys fired into the mob, and the rifle just
clicked. He was out. Within seconds, he was covered with Greenies and screaming
his head off. Their hungry mouths ripped chunks from his body, tearing him
apart in a feeding frenzy. I tried to fight my way over to help, but there were
a dozen other hungry mouths on my end and I snatched my hand back just as teeth
snapped closed.

I barely had time to turn when the other guy covering Brandt
ran out of ammo. The monsters swarmed him and surrounded Brandt. He turned back
to us for a second, panic on his face. Too many to deal with, and he knew it. I
did what I could, beating back the green demons and edging his direction, but
they kept herding me away from Brandt. I could feel Tink trying to give me a
boost; with one last surge, she faded away entirely. I was on my own for the
rest of this fight.

“Brandt needs help!” I yelled. “Someone get in there!”

Tyson let out a war whoop and waded into the fray, shooting
in a wide arc. Greenies fell like dominoes. Brandt shouted encouragement and went
back to work while Tyson laughed and spat curses at the little demons. He was
acting like a thirteen-year-old playing a first-person-shooter rather than a
soldier in a fight or die situation.

A sick feeling dragged at my stomach: Tyson was enjoying
himself and didn’t realize how much trouble we were in. He was so engrossed
that he didn’t see a second wave of Greenies oozing out of the ground.

“Tyson!” I yelled. “Behind you!”

He whooped again and turned to fire. Nothing happened. His
face went from thrilled to terrified in less than a second.

I couldn’t do a thing for him.

The Greenies came at him and Tyson disappeared under a swarm
of demons. A second later, his screams were cut short.

“Damn it!” I yelled, slashing at the crowd of little
monsters surrounding me. I knew this would happen. I knew Tyson would be
reckless and get himself killed, and I never did anything to keep him out of
here. This was my fault, and my mistake would cost us even more—now Brandt had
no cover at all. The rest of us were fully engaged, and he’d been cut off from
the team. Even with Dorland tossing every grenade he had left in Brandt’s
direction, he was being overrun.

I ducked as a Greenie leapt at my head, all mouth and teeth
and stinking breath, and stabbed it on the fly. Too many, there were too many.

“Brandt!” Ramirez barked. “Fall back!”

Brandt kept up the fight as we tried to get to him, but the
Greenies were everywhere and he was wearing down. Nodding toward Ramirez, he
shouted, “Protect Archer, okay? He’s the one we have to keep alive. We’re just
placeholders; my knife told me so. Only time I’ve ever heard it.” Brandt smiled
sadly in my direction. “I should have believed you sooner, kid, but I do now.
Hopefully that’ll count for something.”