Last of the Enemy
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Making sure the wound on his arm was firmly bandaged, Walker checked his ammo load for his pistol and pulled out his combat knife. About half the rifle squad was down with injuries or covering the injured, giving him six warm bodies left to press on with. The slat wood doors on the end of the hall were almost vibrating with magical power, preventing those that might try and pass.
"Fuck that noise." Walker decided, before putting his boot to the door. Inside, two more guards marveled at the interruption before the remains of the rifle squad started hosing them with bullets again. Moving in calmly, the lieutenant turned the corner from what was technically the throne room towards the small enclosure that the royal family occupied. This was the only part of the building built totally out of stone, for safety of the royal family in case of attack. The slot hallway was barely big enough for Walker to go down and keep his shoulders square, but when he emerged from the curtain at the other end he hissed quickly, bringing his gun up. Staring him in the face were three lit braizers, an impromptu alter arranged between them. The wooden surface was stained red, an unidentifiable organ in a dish to the side. Below it was the body of King Aede, his chest torn open and face in a rictus of pain. Above was a man in dark robes, burgundy and black standing out against a golden chain around his neck and a white marble circlet on his brow.
That wasn't the important part, though. That was the background to the girl scrabbling at an invisible wall, trying and failing to get through and away from the murderer behind her. Her robe had been slashed at and torn, and she was bruised and bleeding from any number of places. It didn't take a genius to realize what she was asking for, and Timothy Walker had no intention of letting this progress, all else be damned.
Two quick shots proved that the triangle of braziers worked as a wall inbound as well as outbound. Swearing, Timothy ran in, nearly slipping on the rushes that covered the stone flagstones. His knife was of no use, and his gun wasn't helping either. The murderer laughed, taking the time to dump what had been Aede's heart in one of the fires. Smirking, he grabbed the girl's wrist to haul her onto the altar, before cutting away the remains of her dress with quick, practiced motions.
"No!" Timothy yelled, reaching into his belt. He didn't have much; just a book of matches and a fistfull of sand. Throwing the dirt against the magical barrier caused it to catch, floating suspended in the air. It hung there as a phantom, obscuring the view as the murderer prepared to make himself a rapist as well.
Just then, there was a pulsing in the air, a great potential dissipating in a flash. Watching the sand fall as if the barrier was gone, Timothy took a chance, leaping through what was a barrier and into the center of the triangle. Snorting, the man grabbed his knife and leapt forward, right into a fusillade of bullets from Timothy. The rounds didn't stop him, though, presuming any hit.
Considering that he was fighting a literal wizard, it probably didn't matter. Cold steel would settle this well enough. Dodging the first wild swing of the sorcerer, Timothy dropped his empty gun and moved in with a punch that connected against a toned muscle, before transitioning into a grab to catch the loose robes and throw. Sent flying into his own brazier, the sorcerer managed to slash and cut Timothy before he was thrown. Curling his injured arm up protectively for a minute, Timothy worked his fingers carefully, before clenching them into a fist. His hand would work, for now.
The wizard was angry, now, enraged by the coals smoldering in his clothes. Throwing off the outer layer of his rainments, he charged in to grab and stab, only to be met with a hip check. His reward was loosing his balance and tripping, along with a cut clean through Timothy's armor. The later, never one to miss an opportunity, drove his knife into the sorcerers' shoulder before moving back to dodge a storm of feet. When the sorcerer tried to rise, though, Timothy tackled him to get him back on the ground, his own knife raised high. Slamming it down through the collarbone, Timothy twisted as he withdrew. Bits of bone and tendons came with his knife on the serrations, and blood flew freely.
Heaving himself up, Lieutenant Walker wiped off his knife on the leg of his pants, before moving over to where he'd dropped his Beretta in the melee. Loading and cocking it was automatic as breathing, his eyes glazed over.
"Hey! Lieutenant! What happened?" one of the Marines yelled from the passage. "It went all dark, and we got stuck! What happened?"
Lieutenant Walker pulled air in and out mechanically, his eyes glazed over. Moments later, the three braizers went out without a sound, their light and heat gone to be replaced with moonlight seeping in through slots in the roof. As the silvery beams danced through the dark and hinted at what savergy had happened, the girl- no, the woman- stood up, hands shaking as she moved towards her savior.
"Emmortet." she muttered, holding onto his arm carefully. She wouldn't let go, the moonlight lending a silver light as tears started to flow through the smoke and grime she'd been caked with as the rituals had gone on before their interruption. "Emmortet."
Timothy nodded, the woman clinging to him bringing him back closer to reality. Stepping carefully, he started back towards the entrance, back to something even near sanity. Behind him, the black stains on the floor only grew.
---
It was about five minutes later that Lieutenant Vegas arrived, after an eternity of real time. Real time was not counted in minutes or seconds, but events. First command, first battle, first injury. First blood. First kill.
"Man, snap out of it!" Vegas yelled, looking at the stool Timothy was perched on in the main hall. The refugees had been moved there instead, as well as everyone else. It was where the wounded were, after all. "I'm trying to secure this rat trap and my boys can't find shit!"
Shaking his head briefly, Timothy looked up and gave his roommate a toothy grin. "Tanks on the left flank past the wall, right's a swamp. Did you relieve the beach redoubts?"
"Yeah, we got to the northwest corner where most of the fighting was. Most of my guys are still there, and I parked the AT section off by the beach."
"Did you find any of the notables? The captain of the guard?"
"No, and you know I can't speak the language like you can."
Shaking his hand, Timothy sighed and tried to straighten up without disturbing the woman at his side. It wasn't a bother to have her here, even if she was hogging up one of the few medic's blankets. Nobody leered at her when it slipped, though; the exhaustion of battle meant nobody had time for any mischief.
Assuming Lieutenant Walker would stand it. The knife riding high on his belt and broad stains placed on his pants in mindless strokes suggested otherwise.
"Tim! C'mon, man, focus!"
Snapping back to reality, Timothy looked at Vegas carefully. "What is it?"
"Some of your Weapons guys are coming back, and they've got what looks like a few dozen prisoners or refugees or something."
Timothy groaned, looking up to the heavens despairingly. "Is there a medium-tan woman laughing maniacally in the front with weird tattoos?"
"Yeah, and she looks happy-ish."
"Well, go get her then!"
It wasn't much later before Wyta came into the hall, laughing and crowing. She'd scored a victory over the enemy mages, or clerics as she called them, twice over- once, when they had dropped a ward because of the tanks' fire, and once more when she'd stopped the clumsy work of their leader from tapping into the earth for magic here. Her merriment stopped, though, when she saw the young woman clinging to Timothy. Shock replaced it, before she rushed over and started babbling in her native language faster than anyone could keep up. Moments after moments passed, before she looked at Timothy, carefully.
"You almost made it." Wyta muttered, looking at the woman beside Timothy. "You almost made it in time to save my father."
"Sorry." was her only response. It was almost sincere, if it was Lieutenant Walker saying it and not Timothy. "We did what we could."
His response was a wry smile, and a chuckle. "You saved my sister, and your men saved my brother. Against a cleric of the Lord of War? You've done more than enough."
Vegas stepped in, wary. "Lord of War? Is that one of the gods around here?"
"Yes. His followers to the south sometimes come up and raid. The fact we sank eight ships ought to give them pause for next time. Killing his clerics moreso."
"Christ…" muttered Vegas, stroking his chin.
"You're invoking the name of your god after you're done fighting?" Wyta queeried, confused. "Marines are weird."
A moment passed in silence, before Wyta's sister grabbed on to the friendly mage and asked her something. A chuckle met it, before Wyta rubbed her sister's head affectionately and murmured something. Pulling her hand back, the sister muttered a "thanks" and went back to Timothy's side.
"You did one of those voodoo things again, didn't you." Vegas asked, curious.
Wyta chuckled. "Yeah, so? Euenia asked to learn English, so I just gave her a hand. Speaking of which; Lieutenant Walker, Euenia. Hope you two get along well, because I'm pretty sure Crytus is gonna ask you two to get married after he takes the throne."
"Saywhatnow?" both Timothy and Vegas asked, heads pivoting to Wyta.
"You literally saved her life from the cleric, and your men were the ones to drive the invaders out while Crytus was stuck at the redoubt on the beach gate. Then you call your friend here, and he's got the whole place crawling with Marines who've already kept a fire from breaking out or some damnfool merchant from leading a coup, plus your death machines sank two boats even if one of them did get smote." Wyta rattled off, before rolling her shoulders. "Plus, you actually killed a cleric of the Lord of War, which is pretty damn hard for a mortal and probably worth you getting something by itself. Besides, Euenia needs to get married sooner rather than later and she likes you."
Vegas looked at Timothy who looked at Vegas. Both then scanned the room for more senior officers, found none, and looked for Staff NCOs. There were none of those either, unfortunately. It looked like they'd actually have to make an unsupported decision for once.
"I… um, can't really… err…" Timothy stuttered, trying to stall for time.
"You see, under the… um, this decision… ah…" Vegas supported, before getting cut off with a withering glare. Apparently only the groom was allowed to stall for time here.
"Not now, of course." Wyta said, smirking. "But soon."
Looking anywhere but Wyta, Timothy tried to find any way out of the commitment until he looked down. Euenia was still on the floor, holding his arm carefully. She still looked terrible, but as she looked up at him and mouthed 'please?' he found his only real answer was "Yes."
"Fuck that noise." Walker decided, before putting his boot to the door. Inside, two more guards marveled at the interruption before the remains of the rifle squad started hosing them with bullets again. Moving in calmly, the lieutenant turned the corner from what was technically the throne room towards the small enclosure that the royal family occupied. This was the only part of the building built totally out of stone, for safety of the royal family in case of attack. The slot hallway was barely big enough for Walker to go down and keep his shoulders square, but when he emerged from the curtain at the other end he hissed quickly, bringing his gun up. Staring him in the face were three lit braizers, an impromptu alter arranged between them. The wooden surface was stained red, an unidentifiable organ in a dish to the side. Below it was the body of King Aede, his chest torn open and face in a rictus of pain. Above was a man in dark robes, burgundy and black standing out against a golden chain around his neck and a white marble circlet on his brow.
That wasn't the important part, though. That was the background to the girl scrabbling at an invisible wall, trying and failing to get through and away from the murderer behind her. Her robe had been slashed at and torn, and she was bruised and bleeding from any number of places. It didn't take a genius to realize what she was asking for, and Timothy Walker had no intention of letting this progress, all else be damned.
Two quick shots proved that the triangle of braziers worked as a wall inbound as well as outbound. Swearing, Timothy ran in, nearly slipping on the rushes that covered the stone flagstones. His knife was of no use, and his gun wasn't helping either. The murderer laughed, taking the time to dump what had been Aede's heart in one of the fires. Smirking, he grabbed the girl's wrist to haul her onto the altar, before cutting away the remains of her dress with quick, practiced motions.
"No!" Timothy yelled, reaching into his belt. He didn't have much; just a book of matches and a fistfull of sand. Throwing the dirt against the magical barrier caused it to catch, floating suspended in the air. It hung there as a phantom, obscuring the view as the murderer prepared to make himself a rapist as well.
Just then, there was a pulsing in the air, a great potential dissipating in a flash. Watching the sand fall as if the barrier was gone, Timothy took a chance, leaping through what was a barrier and into the center of the triangle. Snorting, the man grabbed his knife and leapt forward, right into a fusillade of bullets from Timothy. The rounds didn't stop him, though, presuming any hit.
Considering that he was fighting a literal wizard, it probably didn't matter. Cold steel would settle this well enough. Dodging the first wild swing of the sorcerer, Timothy dropped his empty gun and moved in with a punch that connected against a toned muscle, before transitioning into a grab to catch the loose robes and throw. Sent flying into his own brazier, the sorcerer managed to slash and cut Timothy before he was thrown. Curling his injured arm up protectively for a minute, Timothy worked his fingers carefully, before clenching them into a fist. His hand would work, for now.
The wizard was angry, now, enraged by the coals smoldering in his clothes. Throwing off the outer layer of his rainments, he charged in to grab and stab, only to be met with a hip check. His reward was loosing his balance and tripping, along with a cut clean through Timothy's armor. The later, never one to miss an opportunity, drove his knife into the sorcerers' shoulder before moving back to dodge a storm of feet. When the sorcerer tried to rise, though, Timothy tackled him to get him back on the ground, his own knife raised high. Slamming it down through the collarbone, Timothy twisted as he withdrew. Bits of bone and tendons came with his knife on the serrations, and blood flew freely.
Heaving himself up, Lieutenant Walker wiped off his knife on the leg of his pants, before moving over to where he'd dropped his Beretta in the melee. Loading and cocking it was automatic as breathing, his eyes glazed over.
"Hey! Lieutenant! What happened?" one of the Marines yelled from the passage. "It went all dark, and we got stuck! What happened?"
Lieutenant Walker pulled air in and out mechanically, his eyes glazed over. Moments later, the three braizers went out without a sound, their light and heat gone to be replaced with moonlight seeping in through slots in the roof. As the silvery beams danced through the dark and hinted at what savergy had happened, the girl- no, the woman- stood up, hands shaking as she moved towards her savior.
"Emmortet." she muttered, holding onto his arm carefully. She wouldn't let go, the moonlight lending a silver light as tears started to flow through the smoke and grime she'd been caked with as the rituals had gone on before their interruption. "Emmortet."
Timothy nodded, the woman clinging to him bringing him back closer to reality. Stepping carefully, he started back towards the entrance, back to something even near sanity. Behind him, the black stains on the floor only grew.
---
It was about five minutes later that Lieutenant Vegas arrived, after an eternity of real time. Real time was not counted in minutes or seconds, but events. First command, first battle, first injury. First blood. First kill.
"Man, snap out of it!" Vegas yelled, looking at the stool Timothy was perched on in the main hall. The refugees had been moved there instead, as well as everyone else. It was where the wounded were, after all. "I'm trying to secure this rat trap and my boys can't find shit!"
Shaking his head briefly, Timothy looked up and gave his roommate a toothy grin. "Tanks on the left flank past the wall, right's a swamp. Did you relieve the beach redoubts?"
"Yeah, we got to the northwest corner where most of the fighting was. Most of my guys are still there, and I parked the AT section off by the beach."
"Did you find any of the notables? The captain of the guard?"
"No, and you know I can't speak the language like you can."
Shaking his hand, Timothy sighed and tried to straighten up without disturbing the woman at his side. It wasn't a bother to have her here, even if she was hogging up one of the few medic's blankets. Nobody leered at her when it slipped, though; the exhaustion of battle meant nobody had time for any mischief.
Assuming Lieutenant Walker would stand it. The knife riding high on his belt and broad stains placed on his pants in mindless strokes suggested otherwise.
"Tim! C'mon, man, focus!"
Snapping back to reality, Timothy looked at Vegas carefully. "What is it?"
"Some of your Weapons guys are coming back, and they've got what looks like a few dozen prisoners or refugees or something."
Timothy groaned, looking up to the heavens despairingly. "Is there a medium-tan woman laughing maniacally in the front with weird tattoos?"
"Yeah, and she looks happy-ish."
"Well, go get her then!"
It wasn't much later before Wyta came into the hall, laughing and crowing. She'd scored a victory over the enemy mages, or clerics as she called them, twice over- once, when they had dropped a ward because of the tanks' fire, and once more when she'd stopped the clumsy work of their leader from tapping into the earth for magic here. Her merriment stopped, though, when she saw the young woman clinging to Timothy. Shock replaced it, before she rushed over and started babbling in her native language faster than anyone could keep up. Moments after moments passed, before she looked at Timothy, carefully.
"You almost made it." Wyta muttered, looking at the woman beside Timothy. "You almost made it in time to save my father."
"Sorry." was her only response. It was almost sincere, if it was Lieutenant Walker saying it and not Timothy. "We did what we could."
His response was a wry smile, and a chuckle. "You saved my sister, and your men saved my brother. Against a cleric of the Lord of War? You've done more than enough."
Vegas stepped in, wary. "Lord of War? Is that one of the gods around here?"
"Yes. His followers to the south sometimes come up and raid. The fact we sank eight ships ought to give them pause for next time. Killing his clerics moreso."
"Christ…" muttered Vegas, stroking his chin.
"You're invoking the name of your god after you're done fighting?" Wyta queeried, confused. "Marines are weird."
A moment passed in silence, before Wyta's sister grabbed on to the friendly mage and asked her something. A chuckle met it, before Wyta rubbed her sister's head affectionately and murmured something. Pulling her hand back, the sister muttered a "thanks" and went back to Timothy's side.
"You did one of those voodoo things again, didn't you." Vegas asked, curious.
Wyta chuckled. "Yeah, so? Euenia asked to learn English, so I just gave her a hand. Speaking of which; Lieutenant Walker, Euenia. Hope you two get along well, because I'm pretty sure Crytus is gonna ask you two to get married after he takes the throne."
"Saywhatnow?" both Timothy and Vegas asked, heads pivoting to Wyta.
"You literally saved her life from the cleric, and your men were the ones to drive the invaders out while Crytus was stuck at the redoubt on the beach gate. Then you call your friend here, and he's got the whole place crawling with Marines who've already kept a fire from breaking out or some damnfool merchant from leading a coup, plus your death machines sank two boats even if one of them did get smote." Wyta rattled off, before rolling her shoulders. "Plus, you actually killed a cleric of the Lord of War, which is pretty damn hard for a mortal and probably worth you getting something by itself. Besides, Euenia needs to get married sooner rather than later and she likes you."
Vegas looked at Timothy who looked at Vegas. Both then scanned the room for more senior officers, found none, and looked for Staff NCOs. There were none of those either, unfortunately. It looked like they'd actually have to make an unsupported decision for once.
"I… um, can't really… err…" Timothy stuttered, trying to stall for time.
"You see, under the… um, this decision… ah…" Vegas supported, before getting cut off with a withering glare. Apparently only the groom was allowed to stall for time here.
"Not now, of course." Wyta said, smirking. "But soon."
Looking anywhere but Wyta, Timothy tried to find any way out of the commitment until he looked down. Euenia was still on the floor, holding his arm carefully. She still looked terrible, but as she looked up at him and mouthed 'please?' he found his only real answer was "Yes."
