A/N: My tribute to the god of sword and sorcery – Robert E. Howard.
FIC: The Deathless One (1/5)
Commoria 2,000,000 BC.
The dingy cavern was illuminated by a glowing brazier in each corner. In the centre of the cave there stood a blood splattered altar. Two naked beauties were chained to the wall, their doe-like eyes welling with tears and their chests heaving with terror.
Al-Karza-Da glared at the lovelies, hating them for both their youth and beauty. He reached out a gnarled finger and ran it down one of the weeping girls’ faces. She flinched and moaned at his touch. “Fret not pretty,” he rasped. “Soon, so very soon it will all be over!”
“Yes it will.”
Da’s head snapped towards the doorway and glared at the party gathered. Half a dozen knights, their armour newly-dented and scratched from battles with his minions, piled through the entrance. The group was accompanied but a lean-waisted, barrel-chested Pict of medium height with dauntless, inscrutable eyes, but it was their leader that chilled Da’s blood.
The warrior was tall, dwarfing all of his companions, and powerfully-built yet moved with cat-like grace. The man’s square-jawed face was framed by a shaggy black mane that rested on his broad shoulders and grey eyes that were glacial in their coldness. “Kull,” he whispered.
* * *
Kull glared at the dark arts mage, recognising the gangly man from his numerous portraits. His hooked nose, staring, maniacal eyes, and pointed goatee resting on his jutting jaw combined to make their owner unmistakable. “The Deathless One,” he growled.
For six decades, Al-Karza-Da had enslaved the Commorian people, sharing the once-mighty nation’s bounty amongst his cronies and using its citizens as his playthings. Even worse the mage had plunged his nation into a senseless war against Kull’s own people.
Well today it ended. “Da!” Flexing his mighty muscles, he flung his spear at the sorcerer even as his knights darted forward, attacking the tyrant’s other-worldly servants. The wizard waved a contemptuous hand and the spear snapped in half, dropping to the ground.
“By Valka!” A snarl on his lips, Kull drew his sword and bounded forward. An invisible hammer hit him in his chest, knocking him into the wall behind him. Kull grinned. Despite the pain shooting through his body. His diversionary tactic had worked, even as he watched, his Pict friend lunged forward and thrust his dagger through The Black Heart.
Instantly the dark arts sorcerer shrieked and began thrashing wildly around, his aura of unquestionable power slipping. Seizing the chance Kull jumped to his feet, bounded across the room, and thrust the point of his blade through his rival’s heart. The wizard shrieked and raked him across the face, the sorcerer’s long finger-nails drawing blood. Cursing, Kull plunged his sword even deeper into the evil-doer’s chest, until his blade ripped through Da’s back. Eyes glazing, the mage slumped lifeless on his sword.
Growling triumphantly, Kull eased his sword loose of the corpse. “Is he dead?”
Kull glanced over his shoulder to the Pict. “Aye Brule.”
”Good,” his best friend grunted. “In that case I can get my knife back.”
Brule’s fingers closed on the jewelled dagger hilt jutting out of the shrivelled heart led upon the altar. “NO!”
Kull’s head snapped towards the cave opening. “Ka-Nu,” Kull shook his head, “did I not tell you to wait with the main body?”
“You did,” the wizened Pict replied before belching, his pot belly shaking with the action. “But you know me and orders.” Kull’s first adviser scratched his bald head. “And it is lucky I did, for you were about to make a grave mistake.”
“A mistake?” Kull exchanged a worried glance with Brule. “What mistake?”
“By what name is Al-Karza-Da known through-out The Seven Empires?”
“The Deathless One,” Kull replied in puzzlement. “And yet as you can see his corpse lies at our feet.”
“And yet the Deathless One has escaped fatal blows before. Why was this attack different?” Ka-Nu pressed. Kull and Brule stared at the advisor. “Because of The Black Heart.”
”The Black Heart?”
Ka-Nu nodded. “The Black Heart is not only the receptacle of the Deathless One’s power but also his very soul. Only by striking a lethal blow at both the Deathless One and the Heart can the sorcerer be defeated. But removing the dagger will release the soul back into the body, re-energising him.”
“Then we burn the body?” Kull suggested.
Ka-Nu shook his head. “That won’t work. If Al-Karza-Da’s body is destroyed then the removal of the knife from The Black Heart will send the soul and powers into the blade’s wielder, possessing him.”
At this, Kull and Brule simultaneously stepped away from The Black Heart. Kull saw the disgust he felt reflected in his closest comrade’s eyes. “Then we must destroy it,” he declared.
“Nay sire,” Ka-Nu shook his head. “Only magics could destroy The Black Heart. Mages of the greatest power are needed, mages beyond the ken of any we know.”
”So what should we do?” Kull demanded in frustration.
“Bury it and its dread owner in the deepest hole we can dig.”
“Very well,” Kull nodded. “Let it be done.” Brule groaned. “What is wrong?”
”That’s my favourite knife!”
* * *
Greece ‘99
“Be careful!”
“You know it’ll be fine. Maggie doesn’t hire amateurs.”
Dr Solomon Zond refused to take his gaze from the evacuation team working on the recently discovered tomb. “I know Vincent,” he told his best friend. “But it doesn’t stop me worrying.”
The former Drogna agent chuckled. “You shouldn’t worry. If you do you’ll lose your handsome good looks and I wouldn’t want jealousy to ruin our friendship.”
That broke his attention. Grinning wryly, he looked over his shoulder. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”
Vincent smiled. “It only matches the consensus.”
His answering chuckle was interrupted by an excited shout. “Dr. Zond! We’ve secured the coffin!”
“Well done everyone,” he praised as he hurried to the tomb, his eyes widening at what he saw. The stone sepulchre was about seven feet long and three feet wide, and was secured by six hefty padlocks, and a thick iron chain that was wrapped around the coffin’s middle. The tomb itself was covered in intricate markings, each of a clearly different language. “Oh hell,” Zond dropped into a crouch and began examining the writings.
“What’s wrong?”
Engrossed in his inspection, he didn’t answer Vincent immediately. Finally he pulled away and turned to his closest companion. “This tomb comes from the civilisation from which all others came,” he declared.
Vincent squinted at him, his friend’s trademark calmness not shaken by his words. “Why do you say that Solomon?”
“Look at this writing,” he pointed to a spot on the top of the tomb. “It looks vaguely Celtic. That,” he moved his finger to the right. “Looks like the earliest Latin. There’s something close to Mayan,” his finger moved down the tomb. “And that is definitely Aztecan. There’s Sumerian there too.”
Vincent nodded, his expression thoughtful. “So at the very least, this tomb predates all known cultures.”
Zond nodded. “And given the locks and writing on the tomb, it holds something very valuable or very important to its people.”
”Or something very dangerous.”
Zond nodded at his friend’s comment. That thought had occurred. “Best get it back to the lab then.” Vincent chuckled. “What’s so funny?”
“You can hardly wait to tear it apart can you?” Zond smiled wryly but didn’t bother denying it.
* * *
“The package has been sent? And the manifest altered? Excellent, I have some clients who’d be most interested in this artefact.” There was a pause. “Yes, your money will be in your account by the end of tomorrow.”
* * *
Charleston Docks 1999
Charlie Weaver smirked as the half a dozen muscle men he’d hired carried the contraband off the ship. This was going to net him close to a million dollars. Not bad for a couple of days’ work.
Finally the precious cargo was resting on the dockside. “Do you want to open it?”
Weaver considered the question before nodding. The clients only wanted the tomb’s contents, not the coffin itself. They had the specially prepared van and it would be easier to move without the damn tomb. “Break it open.” In minutes, his men had torn the tomb open. His blood racing, he peered inside.
To his disappointment, all he found a strangely preserved body and a dried out husk with a jewelled dagger jutting out of it. Curious, he grabbed hold of the weapon and pulled it out for a closer inspection.
The instant the knife exited the shrivelled lump, the corpse’s staring eyes shot open and his mouth began to move, the words foreign and yet at the same time understandable. “Al-Karza-Da lives again!”
FIC: The Deathless One (2/5)
Charleston ‘99
“But why do we have to do this?”
“Because,” Xander ground his teeth together. Faith had been whining about the trip he’d planned to The American Military museum ever since he’d announced it. “We’re meant to be sight-seeing, remember?”
Faith scowled at him. “Yeah, but this isn’t my idea of sight-seeing.”
“Y…you were more fun in Vegas.”
Surprised by the interruption, both he and Faith turned to Tara. The Wicca immediately reddened and looked to the ground. Xander sighed long-sufferingly before turning back to the pouting Bostonian. “What is your idea of sight-seeing?”
Faith shrugged. “Seeing the clubs, amusement parks maybe. But this-,” Faith sniffed. “Not exactly fun is it?”
Xander looked around. He was disappointed to find there weren’t any civil war cannons near-by as he was seriously considering stuffing Faith in one and firing her out of it. Forcing aside temptation, he endeavoured to explain. “Faith, do you know why Buffy has survived so long?”
Faith tilted her head to one side and squinted at him for a few seconds before replying. “Cause of you?”
“No, because she understood what she was fighting for.” Seeing Faith’s confused expression he continued. “Most Slayers fight for an ideal – humans vs. demons, but don’t understand what our race has achieved, the history, what could be lost if we lose.” He thought it imprudent to add the more Faith knew, the better decisions she could make. His friend was instinctively brighter, way smarter than anybody he’d known except Giles and Willow, but her lack of schooling left her sensitive to anybody saying anything about her intelligence.
Faith looked less than convinced. “But I’ve -.”
“Ahhh!”
At Tara’s cry the two of them spun around to see the Wicca slumped against a pillar. After exchanging a worried look, they hurried over to their friend. “What’s up Tar?” Faith demanded even as Xander took up a position behind the duo, watching for any possible trouble. “Someone try something?”
“N…nothing like that,” Xander was shocked to see how dilated their companion’s eyes were. “Something’s bad risen near-by.”
”Oh yeah?” Faith’s tone had turned businesslike. “Wanna tell us where?”
“On the docks.”
Xander nodded. “You okay to come with us?” Tara nodded. “Good let’s go.”
“For the record,” Faith commented as they hurried towards the car. “I was really looking forward to seeing the museum.”
Xander glared at his friend. “Funny Faith, real funny.”
* * *
Dr. Strange winced as a white-hot pain lanced through his head, causing him to drop the goblet he’d been drinking from. A dismissive swipe of his hand over the stained carpet caused the mark to disappear instantly. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, sending his mind on a journey through the world’s meta-physical fabric searching for the tear. His face paled when he found the source. “The Deathless One,” he muttered. Summonsing up a book from his well-stocked library, he quickly read a few lines before slamming the book shut. Standing, he uttered a quick spell and disappeared.
* * *
The instant the knife exited the shrivelled lump, the corpse’s staring eyes shot open and his mouth began to move, the words foreign and yet at the same time understandable. “Al-Karza-Da lives again!”
Weaver stumbled backwards, his blood chilling at the impossible sight of the gaunt figure levitating a foot over the tomb. The dagger dropped through his nerveless fingers to clatter on the ground. His six employees back-pedalled away from the coffin and towards him, uttering various shocked proclamations. “What the hell is that?” Weaver opened his mouth, but whatever he’d been about to say was lost in a blazing light.
* * *
Al-Karza-Da looked around and smiled. The commotion caused by his resurrection had attracted quite a crowd, all now dead and changing into the Ten-Techs, the shambling zombie-like beasts that served as his mindless slaves.
Satisfied with his underlings’ progression to wakefulness, he turned to the Black Heart and placed his hands on it. In an instance, two million years of history flashed through his mind. Da smiled, America. “A new world to conquer.” He snarled sensed an approaching magical presence, one that neared if not exceeded his own power. “Still they think to challenge me.”
* * *
Strange looked around his new surroundings, a mist engulfed the dock but in the distance he could sense a dark power. He started forward to find his path blocked by a trio of figures. Strange’s eyes narrowed. They weren’t the evil force he’d come to confront and yet were clearly people of power.
The honey blonde, she was a Wicca of rare but untapped potential. The gorgeous brunette, ah, Strange nodded to himself, she was a Slayer. And the young man, Strange squinted, interesting. It seemed he was at the same time the most and least powerful of all three.
The raven-haired beauty started forward, her smoky eyes darkening. “Who the hell are you?” she growled, her accent revealing her as working-class Boston.
“N…no Faith,” the Wicca stuttered. “He’s a good guy.”
The Slayer cast her companion a look. “You sure Tar?” the witch nodded. “K,” the Bostonian impaled him with a glare scarcely less sharp than the sword she carried. “Who are you? And what the hell are you?”
A lesser man would have quailed under the Slayer’s ferocious stare but Strange just smiled. “My dear, my name is Doctor Strange,” the Wicca gasped, she clearly recognised him. “And I rather think I’m here for the same reason you are.” He stared towards the power he’d sensed. “Him.”
* * *
“Oh shit,” Xander muttered as he spied the gaunt man hovering in mid-air some five hundred metres away. He swallowed as he noted the fifty thickly-muscled, grey-skinned beasts with upwardly curving horns sticking out of their forehead surrounding the mage. “This is not of the good.”
“Ya think?” Faith muttered sarcastically. “Cause I was thinking piece of cake. What the hell is that anyway?”
“That is the Deathless One,” the mage intoned. “Two million years ago he ruled much of the known world through his dark magics until he was vanquished.”
Xander groaned. “A major player, great.” He hesitated for a second. He didn’t know this Strange but the sorcerer did know the Deathless One and he didn’t need Tara’s skill at aura-reading to see that the Deathless One was bad news. And if the magician knew him… “How do we deal with him?”
“The only way to defeat the Deathless One is to both kill him and destroy his power source, the Black Heart. It’ll be near him, if you two fight your way through, I and this young woman,” the sorcerer glanced to Tara, “will hold off his magical attacks.”
Xander and Faith exchanged glances. Faith gave voice to Xander’s thoughts. “Fuck! That’s the best you can come with?”
“Young lady,” the wizard fixed his friend with a stern glare. “If I confronted the Deathless One in anything other than a containing action our combined power could easily destroy the state and those neighbouring it.”
“Ah crap,” the Bostonian hefted her sword. “You ready for this Xan?”
“Yeah but,” Xander pulled two MP5s out of The Always Pocket. “Maybe these will come in handy.”
“You’re Mithras!” He looked over his shoulder at the astonished magician. “I knew there was something special about you. You’re the one!”
Xander felt more than a little uncomfortable under the wizard’s searching gaze. He shrugged defensively. “Yeah, so?”
The wizard shook his head. “Not now. He,” Doctor Strange looked towards the Deathless One, “is the immediate problem.”
“Yeah,” Faith agreed from beside him. “Let’s kick some demon ass.”
* * *
Faith cursed as her seventeenth demon of the fight fell, sweat causing her clothes to cling even more tightly to her body’s curves and exhaustion ravaging her frame. At first it had been like shooting fish in a barrel with her MP5. The demons were too dumb to do anything but run straight at her and Xan. But when the ammo ran out and they didn’t have time to re-load, things had got real hectic. Real hectic.
* * *
Dr. Strange cursed as he watched the two young heroes get boxed in by the dozen or so remaining demons. Clearly the duo couldn’t win without his help. He turned to the girl beside him. “You’ll have to contain him yourself.”
Tara’s gentle eyes widened. “M…me? He’s too strong. I can’t fight him.”
Strange smiled and shook his head. “I don’t want you to fight him, merely hold him.”
“I…I can’t.”
“Tara,” he put a firm note into his voice. “I need to concentrate on another spell to defeat him and I need you to keep up the protective shield over your friends. You have the power.”
Finally the Wicca nodded. “Okay.” Her face fell into a determined mask.
“Good girl,” Strange concentrated. Time to get some help.
FIC: The Deathless One (3/5)
Al-Karza-Da smirked as he observed the raging battle before him. The two warriors facing his minions were fine fighters, the girl in particular – if not for her battle prowess making her a danger to him he would have most certainly kept her for his harem, but the last of his servants would see to her and her companion.
That only left the mages. His gaze turned to inspecting his magical rivals. The girl was a formidable Wicca, but the man…. His counterpart had the power to defeat him but his opponent must have guessed that the power needed to do that would cost many lives.
Da chuckled. The noble and the good and their great weakness –compassion. By refusing to use his power, the wizard would condemn the world-.
His attention was disrupted by the sound of a rumbling to his right. Turning, his mouth dropped open. “By Valka!” His eyes flashed and he smiled. Time for his revenge.
* * *
“Holy shit!” Faith glanced up at the sight of a rip in the air and maybe eight warriors charging out, led by the hunkiest piece of manhood she’d ever seen. “What the fuck!”
“Slayer!” she heard the sorcerer bellow inside her head. “Now!”
Beside her she sensed Xander move forward and duplicated his advance. She’d barely taken a step when one of the shambling demons stumbled into her path. Without pausing in her stride she ducked under its claw-swing, and slammed an elbow in its lantern-jaw, knocking it into the path of two of its compatriots. Her path cleared, Faith bounded towards the mage, thankful that he was distracted by the newcomers, obviously sure that his demons would deal with her and the Xman.
At the last instance, the Deathless One must have sensed or glimpsed her approach because he spun to face her. Faith’s heart sank as the magician raised a crooked finger towards her. If he broke through her magical shield she was fucked.
Suddenly a shot rang out. A hole appeared in the mage’s chest and he crumpled to the ground. Faith’s eyes widened as the sorcerer immediately began to rise. “Oh crap!” Reaching desperately she thrust her broadsword through The Black Heart.
“Noooo!” the Deathless One’s eyes widened. The wizard opened his mouth but before he could curse or cast a spell Xander fired his gun again, blowing the mage’s head off. Faith nodded to Xander, exchanging a warily triumphant grin before turning back to the demons.
To her relief the newcomers had just
finished the last of them off. “You both did well.”
”Thanks.” Faith nodded before slamming a right hook into Strange’s jaw, sending
the mage crashing to the ground. “Now stay the fuck out of my mind!” she
growled before storming off to check on Tara.
* * *
“Sorry about that.” Xander hid a grimace as he helped the wizard to his feet. Faith’s trust issues and hot temper made for an explosive combination. “Faith kinda,” his voice trailed off, uncomfortable at having to defend his friend’s actions.
“I quite understand Xander,” the wizard winced. “There is an aura of hurt surrounding the young lady.” Strange smiled. “I’ve never been hit by a Slayer before, life’s meant to be full of interesting experiences.”
“Yeah,” Xander’s brow furrowed. Being hit by a Slayer, an interesting experience? Not what he’d call it. “But that had to hurt?”
“I blocked most of it with my powers; the fall was just for show, to give Faith a release. But,” Strange glanced towards his friends. “She must learn better self-control.”
“I know,” Xander acknowledged with a nod. He turned towards the interlopers, his face puzzled. “Who are they?”
“Ah,” Dr Strange nodded. “They are the warriors who temporarily defeated the Deathless One.” Xander almost snorted. At two million years, Strange had a real loose definition of temporary. “I used their presence at his demise as a catalyst to draw them through the tides of time.”
“Wow.” Xander shook his head at the
enormity of it all. “But you can send them back right?”
Strange smiled wearily. ”In a while yes. But first I must regain my strength.”
“Who are they exactly?”
“That is Kull of Atlantis, the Emperor of the Seven Empires of Valusia.”
Xander attempted to speak, but he could only croak. “But he’s fiction! Kevin Sorbo played him in a really crappy movie two years ago!”
Strange shook his head. “In point of fact he wasn’t. Robert E. Howard was those rarest of men, a Dream-Writer. Many of his imaginings – Kull, Conan, Brak Mak Mon, and Solomon Kane were in fact memories of past worlds that he dreamt and then put down on paper.”
“Of course that’s what he did,” Xander said dazedly.
* * *
“You did well.”
Tara started at the master magician’s voice. “T..thank you.”
“I find stutters are caused by a lack of confidence,” the lean sorcerer continued. “However a young lady as talented, beautiful, and intelligent as you has nothing to be shy about. I think you’re a remarkable young lady and it is clear,” he glanced towards an hurriedly approaching Faith, “your friends think the same.”
“You okay Tar?” Faith shot the magician a suspicious look before glancing at her. “Everything cool?”
Tara hid a smile at the protective way her friend hovered by her side. “Everything’s cool Faith,” she said quietly. The world’s greatest sorcerer thought she was talented!
* * *
“Alexander?”
Xander glanced over his shoulder, awe once again overwhelming him at the sight of the legendary fictional character. Finally he managed to find his voice. “ It’s Xander.”
Kull nodded before sitting beside him. “I understand you have to raise an army?” he nodded. “A formidable task for one so young.”
“It is,” he admitted, hiding his nervousness behind a bland tone.
“As a youth of sixteen years I was exiled on pain of death for disrupting a tribal sacrifice. Soon I was captured by Valusian slavers,” the mighty king’s eyes shadowed with pain. “From there I was trained as a gladiator, became a general, and led an army that usurped an emperor placing him in his place. Men can achieve great things given only the will to do so.” Kull nudged him in the ribs before motioning towards Faith and Tara sat talking some two hundred feet away. “Your army is already off to a fine start. Faith is an Amazon beyond compare and Tara, a witch of considerable power. More importantly,” the warrior’s gaze shifted to the Pict stood with the Valusian knights. “They are true and tested friends and no leader can have too many of them.” Clapping him on the shoulder, Kull strode over to his companions awaiting him by the portal that Strange had just summonsed. After nodding to him and smiling, the emperor stepped through the shimmering doorway.
After another second Xander rose and hurried down to Faith and Tara. “What did his highness want?” Faith asked with eyebrow raised.
Xander shrugged, unwilling to share the details of his conversation. “Just a pep-talk,” he evaded. “Find anything to hint where this,” he nodded towards the tomb, “was heading?”
“Y…yes,” Tara passed him a manifest. “I found this on the ground it says this was heading for a Mr. Thomas Rooney.”
“A magical artefact collector and dealer,” Strange supplied from behind. “No real harm in the man himself, although he has been known to sell dangerous items to the wrong sort of people.”
Xander nodded. “So Faith, Tara, how about we put Mr. Rooney out of business?”
FIC: The Deathless One (4/5)
Georgetown
“I’d like to swing on a star.
Carry moonbeams home on a jar.
And be better off – ugh!”
He gasped as the moment his feet hit the ground something leapt out from the mansion’s shadows behind him and grabbed him in a restraining grip, one arm looped beneath his right armpit across his neck while the other hand was clasped over his mouth. “And I thought burglars were meant to be all stealth-like?” his restrainer mocked.
His eyes widened. It was a girl holding him. Embarrassed, he tried to pull loose again, attempting to execute a judo hold but his captor held him effortlessly. “Oh a wriggler,” his captor giggled. “I like ‘em.”
“Found a new playmate Faith?” he tensed as his employer stepped out of the shadows, similarly restrained by a kid in his late teens. Although at least in her case she was the prisoner of a hulking six footer and not a some slip of a girl.
The girl holding him chuckled. “Ain’t doing so bad yourself Xan, she’s got a hell of a rack on her.”
“Yeah, three beautiful women breaking into the same place on the same night.” The young man beamed at him. “How lucky are we?”
Three? His confusion ended when a shy looking honey blonde stepped out of the shadows. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he didn’t remember posting flyers inviting people to his next break-in. “Look, who are you people?” he demanded in a hiss.
The kid stood opposite shook his head. “Uh, uh. Not how it works, we’re the ones holding you prisoner,” he pointed out. “You answer our questions.”
* * *
Seeing her employee’s mouth open, she hurriedly interrupted, her calm tone belying her turmoil. “My name is Lady Lara Croft and my partner is Hudson Hawk.” She had three black belts, had cross-trained with the soddin’ SAS, and yet this yank teenager had kicked her buggerin’ arse with little apparent effort. Even odder was the calm way the brunette was restraining her partner, a renowned barroom brawler twice her size.
“Oh yeah?” the youth commented. “What do you think Faith?”
The girl holding her companion chuckled. “Sounds like a Giles clone to me, Xan.”
Giles? Lara gaped. It couldn’t be. “Rupert Giles?”
The slight widening in her fellow brunette’s eyes was all the confirmation she needed. “You know Giles?” her captor demanded.
“He’s considered one of the world’s foremost experts in ancient mythology and anthropology. I’ve attended a number of his lectures. How do you know Rupert?”
“Oh no,” she guessed the man holding her was shaking his head. “Like I said. You’re the one answering the questions. Why are you here mi’lady?”
“I was involved in the evacuation of a druid burial site in Yorkshire three years ago. Some items meant for the British Museum from the site. It’s taken me three years to find out who stole them, now I’m going to get them back.”
“Tar?” the man spoke softly.
“S…she’s telling the truth,” the timid-looking girl replied.
“And their auras?”
“She’s got an aura,” the blond nodded towards Lara’s companion. “His isn’t as good, but there’s a lot more white than black in him.”
“Okay,” her imprisoner released her. “You’ve heard of the Slayer legend?”
* * *
This was ridiculous, Hudson fumed as he led the group through the darkened mansion, careful to check for infra-red, sound, and motion detectors. All this talk of Slayers, vampires, and magic was completely nuts.
Except Faith had one-hand lifted him off the ground by the scruff off his collar. And Tara had somehow levitated off the ground.
“Damn Brits,” he muttered under his breath. He should have known better than take a job working for an English lady. He snorted, you’d have thought he’d have learnt from the last time a pretty face had wanted him to do something stupid, but no….
He stopped. “What’s the prob?” Faith growled from behind him.
“Locked door,” he explained tersely. His eyes concentrated on the door, he crouched down until he was at eye-level with the lock and began inspecting it by torchlight.
The east coast native sniffed. “That’s all? I’ll kick it -.”
He grabbed the Bostonian’s shoulder. “And what if it’s alarmed?” he hissed. “Let me,” after muttering a comment about amateurs that gained him a volcanic glare off the beautiful teen, he turned to Tara and smiled. Her he liked, she seemed like a real sweet kid. What the hell she was doing with these two hellions he had no idea. “Could you hold my light for me Tara?”
”S..sure,” the girl nodded.
”Thanks.” Once the witch had taken the torch, he started to work his own form
of magic.
* * *
“Take your time Hawk,” Lara announced, her even tone concealing the shock she was still reeling from. She’d spent her entire adult life dealing with the ancient and the occult. While she was well aware that the life had existed on this world for far longer and was far stranger than the vast majority of people would believe, to be confronted by the actual knowledge that many of the legends had their roots in truth was astonishing.
And yet the evidence was irrefutable. Faith’s power and speed marked her as something other than human and Tara’s skills couldn’t be explained as anything other than magic. But more than that there was Xander.
At first glance he was little more than your typical American beefcake – until you noticed the pantherish way he moved and the purpose in his otherwise good humoured eyes. The talk of him being possessed by a god was utterly ridiculous, it had to be. And yet…
Looking for something to pass the time while Hawk did what she was paying him handsomely for, she turned to Xander. “You never said exactly why Mithras chose you to possess?”
“I believe his first choice was a member of the British royal family, but with all the in-breeding,” the youth’s grin took the sting out of the words. Besides it wasn’t as if she hadn’t wondered. The boy’s face turned serious. “Short story, Mithras sensed a ripple in the dimensional fabric that will tear in about five years or so. I’m meant to,” the young man arched a self-deprecating eyebrow. “Raise an army to fight it.”
“Oh really?” Lara felt her own eyebrow sceptically rise. “And how’s that going for you?”
Xander grinned as if sensing her doubt. “I’ve made a start. Made a few contacts,” the possessed youth replied.
“And your business with Mr. Rooney?”
The youth’s eyes hardened. “Did you hear about the Charleston docks’ explosion two nights ago?” she nodded, it was practically all that had been on the American news broadcasts the last two days. “It wasn’t an explosion, Rooney had stolen an artefact that let loose a demon mage. My friends, I, and a few associates took him down, but by then he’d killed over fifty people. We’re here,” the man scowled, “to make sure he doesn’t do it again.”
“To kill him?” Lara felt more than a little queasy at the idea. She’d killed other humans but only in self-defence, the idea of coldly executing someone was anathema to her.
She was relieved when the young man shook his head. “No, he’s not worth dirtying our hands for. We’re here to destroy his collection and to tell him,” the youth smirked. “That as of 9 AM tomorrow, he’s out of business, seeing as a friend of ours has electronically transferred his fortune to a number of very grateful and much deserving charities.”
Lara smiled. There was a cruel ingenuity that she had to admire. She opened her mouth to compliment the young man when Hawk spoke in a hushed whisper. “We’re in.”
* * *
Faith whistled as her party crept into the cavernous crypt. She’d watched Hawk jimmy the lock and had to admit the more experienced burglar had some wicked cool moves. Not that she couldn’t have done it just as well of course.
The underground chamber her and her companions had entered wasn’t lit by electronic means. Instead it was illuminated by the dozens of gleaming baubles sat on stone plinths set throughout the room, while in each corner there stood a statue of a four feet tall, heavily muscled gargoyle. Awed, she reached out to the nearest ornament, a jewel-encrusted vase. Suddenly an overhead light flew on and a klaxon sounded. Faith winced, she’d tripped an alarm. “Oops.”
The Deathless One (5/5)
Rooney’s eyes shot open. Cursing, he stumbled out of bed. From the sounds of the alarm someone had broken into his subterranean treasure chamber. How the thief or thieves had broken through his massed security of electrified twelve foot high walls, hidden doors, motion, infra-red, and sound sensors, and security cameras was beyond him. But it didn’t matter, whoever they were their life-spans was measured in pain-filled seconds.
* * *
“Oops?” Xander glared at his chagrined companion. “You set off an alarm and the best you can manage is an ‘oops’?
Faith’s coal-black eyes flashed angrily. “Look, I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry -,” he seethed.
“G..guys.”
“Not now Tara,” he didn’t shift his gaze from a glowering Faith. “When will you learn to be cautious?”
“Guys!”
Suddenly registering the urgency in the witch’s tone, Xander glanced around and groaned. The room’s stone gargoyles had somehow turned to life, and were advancing on them, their thick muscles rippling, and their yellow eyes gleaming. “Thanks Faith,” he muttered. “No really.”
* * *
“Was an accident,” Faith pouted. God, she’d made a mistake and apologised, but would he let it go? No, course not. Men, pains in the ass all of them!
Shaking her head, she turned towards the gargoyles, noting their stunted figures, wrinkled skin, and, her nose wrinkled, terrible body odour. Throw in their glazed eyes and general surly disposition… “Hey guys,” she grinned at the two demons approaching her in a flanking motion. “You got a sister in Sunnydale?”
The flapping of the beasts’ leathery wings was her only answer as they simultaneously leapt at her. A grin on her face, she charged to meet them, driving an elbow into the face of the one to her left. “Shit!” she screamed as the other’s talons raked her across the chest, drawing blood. Grabbing the monster’s meaty wrist, she pulled it towards her and drove her head into its head.
”Oh crap!” Faith stumbled backwards, blood dripping from her forehead and her
head ringing. “Note to self, don’t headbutt gargoyles.”
Seeing the demon rushing towards her and sensing the other behind her, she leapt into the air, somersaulting over the gargoyle in front of her. As she cleared its wizened head, she powered her legs down, slamming her heels into the creature’s bulky shoulders, and knocking it into its companion.
The moment her feet hit the cavern’s cold floor she spun around to face her adversaries. Wiping away the blood seeping into her eyes she saw the two demons had picked themselves up from the heap they’d fallen into and were already stalking her. “You wanna a little bit of Faith?” she pouted for effect. “Come get some.” The moment the two demons moved forward, she charged into action, executing a flawless dropkick that collided with the left demon’s chest.
Her attack cannoned the monster into a stone pedestal behind him, sending both demon and a ceramic vase crashing to the ground. Faith looked down at the stunned demon and smirked. “Sorry about this.” Her blade flashed down, decapitating the beast. “Well not really,” she crowed as she turned to face the other monster.
And into a hard right that crashed into her mouth, lifting her off her feet, falling into a stone plinth, and plummeting to the ground. Blood filling her mouth, she rolled to her feet, and retreated from the creature’s slashing claws, conscious that she’d dropped her sword. If she just bided her time, she’d get an opening….
A boom exploded in her ears, and blood erupted from the demon’s thick shoulder, staggering the beast. Taking the opportunity offered, Faith lunged forward, scooping her sword up from the ground and propelling her blade through her rival’s throat, tearing the beast’s head off his shoulders.
“You okay Faith?”
She forced a grin at Xander’s concerned expression and nodded a thanks for him shooting the gargoyle. “I feel like shit,” she admitted before smiling. “But I’ll be just as pretty in the morning.”
“The men of the world heave a sigh of relief,” Xander winked at her before pulling out a huge lump of C4 and sticking a detonator in it. “We’ve got twenty.”
“But there’s precious artefacts-,” the English chick protested.
“We haven’t time,” Xander interrupted. “Let’s move people!”
* * *
The Next Day
“Yeah Brill, got it.”
“What’s the sitch X?”
Xander glanced at his best friend, relieved to see the shape already returning to her battered and bruised features. After their meeting last night, both Croft and Hawk had agreed to join the Mithras Brotherhood as consultants. “A protégée of Brill’s is in trouble. Apparently she’s hacked into a shadowy governmental group’s activities and now they’re after her.”
”Oh yeah?” Faith raised an eyebrow. “Who is she and where is she at?”
“Name’s Angela Bennett and she’s in Norfolk.”
“Damn,” Faith’s nose wrinkled. “And I was kinda hoping for Paris.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Oh yeah?” Faith cast him a speculative glance. “Milan? Madrid?”
“Don’t push it,” he warned with a grin.
“W..when we leaving?”
Tara’s question brought him back to business. “Flight’s in three hours.”
* * *
Faith watched from the escape as the hacker hurried into the darkened alley. They’d arrived just minutes after she’d exited her hotel, at a hell of speed judging from the mess her room had been in. X and Tar had set off in one direction to track the hacker and she’d gone in the other. Hearing the sound of a door crashing open below her she looked down to see a suited man charging into the alley in front of the fugitive.
“Damn it,” Faith muttered a curse. Upon leaving Angela’s room they’d been confronted by a pair of thugs. They’d dealt with them but apparently there were more. Cursing herself for being all types of fool, she braced herself before dropping off the fire escape.
Her feet collided with the man’s upper back, knocking him face-first to the ground. Faith had time to wink at the shocked computer expert before driving a fist into the back of the moaning man’s head, knocking him out.
Hearing the scuffle of feet to her left, she surged to her feet, glanced towards the thick-set intruder and shot out a side kick into his padded belly, doubling him up. Before the man had chance to recover she slammed an elbow into the side of his head, crumpling him. “Easy as.” Her grin faded as she saw two suited men enter the alley’s mouth, guns in hand. One hundred feet between them and no cover.
* * *
Xander groaned as a tinted limo screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley that Angela Bennett had hurried into and two men jumped out. “Why can’t anything be simple?” he turned to Tara. “Wait here,” he instructed before sliding over the car bonnet, landing behind the two agents.
Sensing his arrival, one of the two men started to turn towards him. Xander’s foot shot out, his heel colliding with the man’s hamstring. His off-balance adversary was helpless to avoid the elbow he crashed into the side of his head, knocking the man out.
“What the hell!” Alerted by his companion’s demise, the second man spun to face him. Xander’s hands flew up to lock around the back of the agent’s head and yanked him down into his up swinging knee. Bone crunched under the blow’s impact causing Xander to wince in sympathy before tossing the body aside.
“Who are you people?”
Xander smiled at the shaken-looking computer expert. “I think your position on the internet development is well-thought out but wrong. It will lead not to more freedom of information but even more secret government units and clandestine business organisations.”
Angela’s face screwed up. “Brill said that about my ’92 Masters’ paper on the internet.” Angela’s face brightened. “You’re from Brill?”
Xander didn’t answer immediately. He glanced at Tara. The witch nodded. He smiled at the hacker. “We’re from Brill,” he confirmed. “And I’d like to make you an offer.”
* * *
Cancer Man shook his head in disgust as he ran through the neatly-typed report of Bennett’s escape. The agents involved couldn’t give a detailed description of their assailants, but just the fact that two highly trained killers were taken out by a teenage girl was telling. He blew a thoughtful smoke ring. Harris and his little group had to go. They were little more than a hindrance at the moment, but from little acorns…. The only question, he picked up another folder off his coffee table and began leafing through it, was who to use.
There were three strong candidates. Ethan Hunt had pulled off a number of impressive coups, but, he scowled, the agent’s speciality ran more to infiltration rather than assassination. The next potential killer was Jason Bourne. He quickly scanned the man’s details. Unfortunately he was also a maverick, difficult to control. Sighing, he discarded the file. Too risky.
Suddenly he was overcome by a series of hacking coughs. Tears streaking down his face and his throat raw, he took a gulp of the water by his side.
Somewhat comforted he returned to reading his file. He smiled with approval. This was the man. Utterly merciless, efficient, and motivated solely by money, perfect for the job. Even better, his eyes widened, the man had experiences of beings that were other than humans having dealt with extra-terrestrials in ’95 and ’98. A smirk on his face, he leaned over and turned the intercom on. “Johnson,” he rasped. “Preston Lennox is our man.”
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