Chapter 15
“The
Libertarians are here!” Roche Sarnova declared, marching back into the War
Room. “I’ve seen it through my wolves.”
“You know where they are?” demanded Colonel De
Soto, his hatred for Sarnova momentarily checked.
“I do,” replied the Dark Lord, and told them
where.
“Then, as Chief of Security for the Castle, I
request permission to lead our team against them.”
Roche smiled bitterly, but remembered Francois’
stern warnings that they needed De
Soto alive. “Colonel, I would love nothing better than
to send you out after the Libertarians. However, strictly speaking, they have
not launched an attack on the Castle itself and are therefore out of your
jurisdiction.”
“Bullshit!”
Sarnova shot him a glare, and the Colonel backed
down, but though he remained silent it was apparent to all that his fury held
no bounds … and some would undoubtedly agree with his point of view.
“Besides,” said Sarnova, in an effort to both
soothe the surly De Soto
and regain the support of his people, “you are not a
daybeast
and if you were to lead the assault you would have to stay inside the
helicopters behind black-out curtains. Certainly not the best position for a
warrior, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Reluctantly, De Soto nodded.
Continuing, Sarnova turned to Colonel
Wheatshear, a werewolf in charge of all offensive military operations stemming
from the Castle. “Colonel, I place the burden of dealing with Maleasoel’s army
in your hands. Are you up for a fight?”
“Of course, my Lord.
But dawn has already
fallen. I fear that we cannot muster enough werewolves to rout an entire army.”
Sarnova waved the concern away. “The battle will
not be fought hand-to-hand. If our dear Colonel De Soto has been performing his
duties, we should have ten armed attack helicopters at the ready. We have
wolves capable of flying them, as well. Your mission is simple, Colonel. Take
the birds up and bombard the Libertarians’ encampment with all the hardware
you’ve got. Then send in a few humans to trip any booby-traps that the missiles
failed to set off. Afterward, you and your lupine kin will descend into the
encampment and take as hostages any survivors. They may have valuable information.
Get a move on. We’ve all been planning and training for this day for years. Are
there any questions?”
There were none. All knew what they must do, and
within a minute the War Room was all but deserted. The Dark Lord held
Wheatshear back.
“Yes, my Lord?” inquired the Colonel, obviously
anxious to begin the raid. “Is there something further?”
“One thing more.
You’ll have a passenger
aboard one of your helicopters. Lord Kharker.”
“I’ve heard that he’s a skilled fighter.”
“He is, but
keep
him
away from the front lines until the area is secured. It may wound his pride,
but this is not his fight and I don’t intend for him to lose his life in it.
Now go. Prepare your men and
birds,
only hold one of
the machines back for him to board. Make it the perimeter patrol; that will
allay his suspicions. He’ll be along within a few minutes.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Bowing, the Colonel
spun on his heel and left.
Sarnova allowed himself to feel pride at his
soldiers and the satisfaction of impending victory. Still, part of him felt
that this had all been too easy, that the Libertarians were leading him into a
trap. But what could it be, really? He held all the advantages. Dismissing the
doubt as a mere manifestation of the paranoia that had all but swallowed him
whole in recent months, Sarnova headed back to his own chambers, where the
Ambassador and Lord Kharker awaited him.
After a quick greeting, Mauchlery left them,
knowing that they had private words to exchange.
“Roche, I’m glad you had Francois come for me,”
Kharker said, “but this isn’t a social meeting, is it?”
“I’m afraid not, my friend.”
“Malie’s here, isn’t she?
And
her whole stinking army with her.”
The Dark Lord nodded. “We’ve already begun
preparations to launch an attack.”
“No! Roche, you can’t do it. Jean-Pierre is with
them. He could be killed in the crossfire.”
Sarnova frowned, aware of what must come next.
“Roche, I know you’ve got to do this, eliminate
Malie’s threat, but you can’t just go ahead and kill him, too.”
“Do you have any alternate suggestions?”
Kharker considered. “You’ve got to strike now
while you know where they are and while the sun is still up so that you can use
your choppers to your advantage.” Kharker swore under his breath and swung his
suddenly cold eyes up to his old friend. “Roche, I realize that I have no place
to interfere, but would you grant me one request?”
“You’ll have to state it first.”
“I must go with them.
The
raiding party.
That way I’ll be able to recognize Jean-Pierre and tell
them not to mark him as a target. And hopefully I’ll get to chop off a few Libertarian
heads in the bargain. Please, Roche, you can’t deny me this.”
Sarnova pretended to think it over, then smiled
and patted Kharker on the back. “Of course,” he said. “But you’ve got to
promise me something in return.”
“What?”
“That you’ll stay in your chopper, well away
from our missiles and their countermeasures, until the area’s secure. If you
spot Jean-Pierre, and I hope you do, call up Col. Wheatshear. He’s leading the
op. Tell him to hold his fire. But don’t enter the fray yourself. Okay?”
Unable to hide his smile, Kharker laughed and
gave Sarnova a quick hug. “Of course,” he said.
The Dark Lord’s face became solemn again. “You
must promise me one thing further.”
Kharker raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Don’t get yourself killed.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Roche.”
*
*
*
One
helicopter remained in the hangar, Kharker saw, and it was spinning up. Several
soldiers bustled about it, checking their weapons. Kharker marched up to the
pilot and said, “I’m coming with you.”
The pilot peered at him. “Who are you?”
“Lord Kharker.”
Instead of balking, the pilot nodded. “We’re the
perimeter patrol, Lord Kharker, and of course we have no authority to deny you,
of all people, the opportunity to accompany us. Do you require weapons?”
Kharker indicated the hunting rifle slung over
his shoulder and the machete that slept in a leather sheath at his hip. “This
is all I need.” He couldn’t hide his scowl. “You’re the perimeter patrol? Then
you won’t be in the fight yourself?”
“Indeed, sir, and we leave immediately. The
others have already lifted off.”
Suspicion reared its head. “Why did you delay
lift-off?”
The pilot frowned, and a trickle of sweat ran
from his brow. “Er, final preparations. We thought there might be something wrong
with her.”
“The bird looks fine to me.”
“We had to make sure.”
Kharker relaxed. “You were told to wait for me,
weren’t you?”
Seeing that the Hunter was taking it well, the
pilot nodded. “Yes, Lord.”
Suddenly embarrassed by the obvious maneuverings
of the Dark Lord and by his own predictable actions, Kharker coughed. “Well,
goddamnit, I’m here now, so let’s get this show on the road!”
Within a minute, the military aircraft had been
boarded and the circular platform it stood on had been raised to greet the
chill wind of the outdoors. Above the battlement the bird now jutted from,
Kharker could see nine other helicopters hovering impatiently. At the sight,
his own
embarrassment withered into a helpless chuckle.
“Roche,” he whispered, “you’ve got my number,
don’t you?”
The bird joined its dark cousins in the sky, and
the convoy dipped low into the valley to avoid the stiff winds that tortured
the higher regions. Once it attained its new altitude, the convoy struck off in
the direction of the Libertarians.
Kharker thought of Jean-Pierre as the mountains
rolled away on both sides. Feeling the morning sun through the eastern window,
he lit up a cigar and sank deeper into his thoughts. He pictured the good times
he and the albino had shared before the appearance of Danielle. Now that the
Gutter Angel had been purged from Jean-Pierre’s system, they could share even
better times to come.
The convoy began a slow rise along one of the
many mountains that populated this desolate corner of the world, and adrenaline
washed away Kharker’s reverie. Soon battle would be upon them. The helicopter
cleared the precipice and started forward over the woodland below. Then there
was a clearing, and Kharker could see traces of blood on the snow, blood that
would soon evaporate in the light of the sun—unless, of course, it was werewolf
blood. Kharker prayed it wasn’t.
They flew over the wooded region that Sarnova
had named as the Libertarians’ headquarters, and Kharker’s helicopter began a
circling pattern around the main force, looking for foes that might have
strayed beyond the main installation.
Settling over a still region, the chopper
awaited further instructions. Although far away from the main action, Kharker
was afforded a good view of the nine birds as they scoured the terrain for
signs of their prey. From the cockpit, he could hear the garbled voices of the
soldiers via radio as they relayed to their colonel what they were seeing. Not
much, apparently, aside from the blood in the clearing and the tracks in the
snow. However, there was no doubt that this was the place Maleasoel had chosen
for her HQ. It was daylight now, and the Libertarians would be underground,
unless a few werewolf scouts roamed the surface.
Once they’d appraised the area, the nine attack
helicopters formed a wide circle and aimed their weapons on the Libertarians’
underground bunker. At a signal from Colonel Wheatshear, they began their
assault, and Kharker found himself entranced by the awesome display of the powerful
missiles streaking into the snow.
Explosions rocked the land, then more explosions
below as the missiles triggered the expected booby-traps the Libertarians had
left behind. Kharker’s hope ebbed, for it was clear to him and to the others
that if Malie’s army had laid traps behind them, they were gone.
Which meant that Jean-Pierre, too, was lost for the moment.
Nevertheless, the assault continued, missiles boring through the snow to
detonate underground.
After several minutes, the assault ended, and
one helicopter landed in the clearing. Three humans stumbled out from the
machine and, caught in a spell of psychic dominance, they marched toward the
scarred wasteland that had once held the Libertarians, making their way to the
edge of a hole, where they peered down into the bunker Malie’s army had carved
from snow and stone.
The humans fanned out, then lowered themselves
into the tunnels, where Kharker could no longer see them. After a minute of
nervous silence, there came a loud explosion as one of the mortals triggered
a booby-trap
. To Kharker’s irritation, he felt a twinge of
sadness at the loss; the human hadn’t even been given a fighting chance. On the
other hand, his death had probably saved a few immortals from the same fate.
There were no other booby-traps. The two
surviving mortals climbed out of the bunker and made their way back to the
helicopter that had released them.
Five birds set down next to it, and out poured
the raiding party of werewolves and other immortals that did not fear the sun.
Leading them was Colonel Wheatshear.
With two birds hovering over them and the
perimeter patrol chopper some distance away, some of the soldiers fanned out to
explore the area surrounding the desecrated bunker, hoping to stumble upon some
clues to where the Libertarians might have gone, but the main party, led by the
Colonel, quickly descended into the smoke-filled tunnels and were lost from
Kharker’s view. Part of him wanted to hop out and join them—the area was secure
now—but another part just wanted to sit here and watch. What was the point in
doing anything else? Jean-Pierre was gone, and there would be no battle to find
sport in.
Just as he was thinking this, a blazing streak
caught his eye. Roaring in from a ridge about a hundred feet to the west, the
missile shot past his helicopter and continued swiftly along its trajectory, at
last smashing into the still smoking remains of the Libertarians’ underground
bunker—and detonating.
Kharker had no time to prepare, no time to brace
himself.
The missile erupted with an explosion larger and
more powerful than any he had ever witnessed. In the blink of an eye, it
incinerated all the Castle soldiers within the bunkers’ immediate vicinity,
then grew to engulf a wider area. The hovering birds burst into flame and tossed
their fragments upwards. The helicopters in the clearing, too, were swept away
in the might of the hellfire.