6 - Hammer & Stone
#15 of Shadowdancer
Shadowdancer
By Dracon
[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.
Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.
Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]
"Hammer & Stone"
----Chapter I----
Givens Castle
10244 S. Longwood Dr, Chicago, Illinois
November 23rd, 2027
7:52 P.M.
A cobalt-skinned hand sprinkled finely powdered chalk along the carpeted floor, dispensing it in smooth, even lines. The lines intersected to form a pentagram on the floor as the stocky figure of Jamie's bound spirit watched. He was the one who had insisted she use that form for her practice Ward, standing firmly against her question that there was a negative connotation to the symbol.
He had told her, "A symbol is a tool, the way your spellbook is a tool, or your sword. It can be used for weal or woe, but it is not the tool that is good or evil. That responsibility rests solely on the shoulders on the one wielding the tool."
He'd gone on to explain that the pentagram made for an excellent "free-standing" Ward, because the five arms of the figure acted as supports. He likened it to architecture and explained that if, for instance, the Ward was supposed to block the movement of one of Oberon's Children, the Fey could move freely within the space delineated by the outer wall, even over the inner lines.
Breaching that wall, however, would require overcoming the magical energy stored within the five inner arms, as well as the outer line. Kee also hinted that many other figures would serve, but most of them were simply harder to draw.
Finishing the figure, she'd expected there would be some puff of magic or other effect to indicate its completion. When she asked Kee, he merely chuckled, explaining, "All you have done so far is draw a pretty picture on the floor. You still must breath life into the its lines."
Nodding, Jamie picked up her tome, looking over the spell. Most of the spells listed in the Livre Blanc were short, concise procedures, designed to be performed under pressure. The ones in Protective Warding, however, were simpler in that their command words were in English, but the rituals were much more involved and time-consuming.
This particular one was designed to allow a Spirit within its boundaries, but not to allow that person to leave once inside. Before starting the ritual, Jamie asked him, "How will I know that it's working?"
He replied, "If you viewed it with your True Sight, the Ward ought appear as a boundary of shimmering energy. Only you and I would see it, for the Ward would be tied to your energies. In addition, I shall enter its confines before you begin the ritual."
She shook her head, protesting, "You shouldn't do that. What if something went wrong? I don't want you to get trapped in there."
Smiling, he said calmly, "Then you shall just ensure that nothing goes wrong. Have faith, milady. You have accomplished many other tasks that you have set your mind to. This one shall yield as the others have."
Still smiling at her, he stepped into the central chamber of the symbol, then told her, "Now, proceed with the ritual. You cannot possibly do me harm with the spell, milady, so please, do not concern yourself with my safety."
Nodding, she began walking counterclockwise around the outskirts of the Ward, tracing symbols at eye level in the air above the outer curve, and chanted a wordless melody. The hair on the back of her neck began to rise as she felt Power build around her, aching to be released.
This first section of the ritual took her about five minutes, a little slower than might have been optimal, since she wanted to make sure she got the procedure correct. The second step was much simpler. She simply had to scribe the symbols of the five elements onto the vertices, air and earth on one side, fire and water on the other, spirit on the lone point behind Kee's back.
From what she'd read, and what Kee had told her, this was actually a fairly generic barrier so far. The third step was what tuned it, aligning it for a specific purpose, and activated the latent energies. She dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of Kee, opposite the spirit sigil, and withdrew a sheet of thin cotton-vellum from one pocket, a fountain pen from another.
Her hair had begun to rise from her scalp, a thin trickle of mana grounding itself through her body as she struggled to maintain the spell, manifesting as static electricity. The final step was the simplest, and yet the trickiest, of them all. She had to describe exactly what the barrier had to do, speaking as she wrote onto the vellum, then "anoint" the barrier with it.
She wasn't certain what that meant, since it was hard to anoint something without using a liquid, but Kee had said that she would figure it out quickly.
Putting pen to paper, she spoke, calling out the words in a firm tone of voice. "Essence of Fire, I bid thee shine within yon barrier's confines. Entice the Neverborn as the moth. Essence of Earth, I bid thee rest within yon barrier's confines. Hold the Neverborn in thine grasp. Essence of Air, I bid thee strengthen yon barrier's confines. Bar the way of the Neverborn as unto the mighty tornado. Essence of Water, I bid thee conceal yon barrier's confines. Steal this warding from the sight of the Neverborn."
Taking a deep breath, she finished the invocation. "Essence of Spirit, I bid thee deepen yon barrier's confines. Pierce the veil between this world and the next."
She rose, holding the vellum in hand, and she thought she could make out a faint arcing of electricity around her forearms. "Now what do I do, Kee?"
He spoke, raising his voice to be heard over the rushing in her ears, "Press the vellum into the Ward's barrier. The spell will do the rest!"
She stepped forward, grasping the top of the paper with the very tips of her claws, and tried to push it into the Ward. Resistance met her efforts, feeling like a gust of wind pushing back against her arm. She leaned into it, using her weight to propel the paper forward, and the wind tore it from her grasp, knocking her back onto the floor.
She landed on her muscular rump, catching part of her tail beneath her, and watched as the paper whirled along the outer curve, the force of the wind shredding it. A flare of white light consumed the vellum, and all was still once more.
She rose, looking at Kee, and asked, "What just happened? Did the spell fail?"
He held out his hand to silence her, then moved it across one of the inner lines. His movement unimpeded, he stepped forward and tried to breach the outer curve. A faint white light formed where he placed his hand, outlining it, but stopping its forward progress.
Nodding, his form began to shimmer and fade as he slipped back into the Astral plane. Spots of light formed on the outer curves, forming a dome near the room's ceiling as he tried to probe its construction.
She closed her eyes, trying to peer beyond the veil. The afterimage of the room faded into shadow, faint lines of light traveling through the walls and floor. Her computer seemed to glow softly in this eerie sense, as did the lights, but her attention was drawn to the true form of the Ward.
It seemed almost like a spider web, formed of pure light, but it didn't even waver under the hammering blows of Kee's essence. After a few more punishing blows, he turned to look at her, the light of his spirit flaring in a way she had come to associate with pleasure. ~You have done well, Lady Jamie. I believe I could, in time, penetrate this Ward, but it would require a prohibitive investment of energy. Even if I believed you meant to trap me here, I would likely conserve my strength, allowing you to make the next move.~
She walked next to the barrier, her deep, bark-brown eyes widened in concern. "Will you be stuck in there until the Ward lapses? Is there anything I can do to help you?"
He moved to just the other side of the barrier from her. ~Place your palms together and press the tips of your claws into the barrier, pulling them apart when you meet resistance, if you would be so kind. I shall extricate myself, and the Ward will repair itself momentarily.~
She followed his instructions, feeling a faint chill move up her arms as his essence boiled through the small hole like a plume of smoke. "Now what do I do? Should I just leave this thing here?"
He bobbed before her, a gesture that seemed eerily like a nod, and agreed, ~Yes, I believe that would be wise. It will not impede your movement to any significant degree, and I am curious as to how long your first attempt will hold. Chalk holds the charge passably well, but the spell will fade in time.~
She folded her arms beneath her bosom, noting that the spell had taken a good deal of juice, both metaphorically and literally. Three inches, maybe? Still, it seemed to have done the job well enough. She was certain that had worked properly, she figured that Kee would have had no reason to lie to her or hold back.
At least the spellcasting process was getting easier for her. Some of the things Kee had suggested she try had left her out of breath or cramped by the time the spell had finished. It really was harder than it looked, the concentration alone a tremendous burden. She'd also discovered that it was possible, though difficult, to channel the energy in a way that was less demanding, allowing it to ground through the fibers of her muscles.
She suspected that it naturally tried to travel through her nervous system. Small wonder it could leave fatigue or spasms in its wake, then! That took an even greater degree of focus than before, however, and she doubted she'd have the presence of mind to do it in a crisis.
She took a moment to admire her own handiwork. The Ward didn't look very impressive in the physical domain, just a chalk diagram, but to her True Sight, it seemed much more impressive. The construct appeared to be a network of intersecting filaments, glowing softly, the five inner lines arcing out from the floor to form into a spiral that reinforced the main wall.
She felt cold wash across her body as Kee's essence intersected her own. Spellcasting had gotten easier for her, perhaps, but the idea that a Spirit could simply "walk" through her physical body was still a little disturbing.
His voice entered her mind, commenting, ~A fascinating design. I have not seen its like before. Magic is a thing of the mind, milady, as well as of the soul. The words and gestures may give the spell life, but it is the wielder's mind that grants it form.~
Jamie opened her eyes, the room fading back into its usual, soothing colors. She settled into her chair, careful not to smudge the chalk. Kee manifested, a process that never failed to impress her, and knelt before her. "Milady, you have done admirably today, well beyond my expectations. Nevertheless, I sense that something troubles you. Perhaps that aided you, allowing you to throw yourself into the ritual more easily, but I believe it may be holding you back. Might I enquire as to this distraction?"
She sighed, leaning back in the chair, causing it to creak softly beneath her weight, and closed her eyes. "I'm just trying to sort through what happened last night, that's all. I guess there is one thing you can help me with, though."
He nodded, sounding solemn. "Certainly, milady. You need but ask. Is it, perhaps, my actions that concern you? I can explain, if you desire."
She smiled at him, shaking her head. "Nah, I've played enough D&D to know what a geas is. You had no choice. Don't worry about that. No, I'm more concerned as to who people were. I mean, I know they were Fey, and I'm guessing they were pretty powerful ones. I get that. But, how could they just march in here and take over the way they did? That's what bothers me."
Kee looked surprised and asked, "But, did you not have a dossier about them? Surely it could explain in more detail than I, milady."
Chuckling, she answered, "Nah. Frankly, Kee, I'm surprised they didn't call my bluff. About all I had on them were some photos and a Pentagon Threat Assessment. Beyond that, it was pretty skimpy."
He nodded, then began to speak. "You are most fortunate to have come out of your encounter with the Weird Sisters unscathed. They are neither good nor evil, for they are formed of the purest magic, but they are capricious and callous. Crises seem to surround them, though it is debatable whether most are their doing."
Standing, he began pacing, obviously worried. "Attempting to infiltrate the clan, though, that concerns me. I had thought them bound by Oberon's Law, which ought to preclude such activity, but I appear to be mistaken."
She watched him, sympathizing with his concern, and asked, "What's this Law? I know who Oberon is, but..."
He replied, glancing around the room, "None of Oberon's Children are to meddle in the affairs of the other races. Essentially, that is the whole of the Law. There are exceptions, such as attempting to fulfill a wish, but in effect, they ought not have been here."
Jamie shook her head, growling softly. "Well, I certainly didn't wish for them. I hope they get what's coming to them when Oberon finds out. Still, it didn't seem like they were here for their own entertainment. You think they were telling the truth about the Dreamers?"
Kee shrugged, sounding less certain than usual. "Who can say? Many of the Fey are known to twist their speech, to say one thing and imply another, but I see little reason that they would have deceived you at that point. I would suggest you remain on your guard, however. It would not surprise me to see them again. And, I fear for you, milady, if they have a personal interest in you. Few would desire such attentions."
Jamie thought that through, remaining silent for a few moments, then began to ask, "Something else bothers me. Was Branson being hon -"
Branson's voice came over the intercom, "Jamie, could you come to the roof? Bring your combat gear."
She looked at Kee, who commented, "Go, milady. Perhaps your question shall resolve itself," and vanished into the Shadows once more. She looked around the room for a moment, then took a deep breath and headed for the closet. No sense getting Branson any more irritated with her than he already was.
She gathered her weapons from the closet, an act that was becoming all too familiar to her, and strapped the helmet to her head. She thought about asking Elayne for a few of her grenades, but decided she would probably do more collateral damage with them than they were worth.
She also grabbed the leather medicine bag, suppressing a hint of worry about Shang, and placed the Livre Blanc within, as well as another tome, ominously entitled "Evocation and the Black Hammer".
Wondering what Branson could need her for, she marched to roof, hoping she had not kept him waiting too long. His back was to the stairwell, and he leaned on one of the crenellations, watching the city in front of him. She could see that he had donned his armor, the two Colt Carnivores hanging in their habitual spots on his hips.
She announced herself, "I'm here, Branson. What's this all about?"
He held up a hand, pointing to the north, and spoke in a cold tone. "I've been thinking, Jamie. You've managed to avoid going on patrol so far. I know you've been keeping yourself busy, and I respect that, but the fact remains."
Turning to her, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and said, "A person I looked up to used to have a saying. "A Gargoyle can no more stop protecting - "
She interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. " - the Castle than breathing the air." Is that right?"
His mouth hung open in surprise, and it took him a moment before he could ask, "How... how did you know that?"
She sighed, answering, "I wish I knew. It just occurred to me last night, while I was," She smiled at him, "out on patrol."
He chuckled, looking more relaxed than he had before, and replied, "You're just full of surprises, hun. So, you got fed up last night and went for a wing-around, eh? That's good, I guess, better than sulking. But, you should have told someone, and preferably taken one of us with you. I don't like my Clanmates going off alone."
She narrowed her eyes, an icy undertone entering her voice. "I would have been happy to, but you were all... occupied, as I recall."
Irritation creeping into his words, he informed her, "Look. You need to let that drop, okay? No one was taking advantage of anyone last night. Quit being such a Human about it."
He hopped up onto the crenellation, landing in a crouch, and turned to her, a hand extended, and said, "Well, the night's a-wasting. Let's get airborne, we can talk then if you'd like."
He threw himself over the edge, the pair of delicate membranes sprouting from either side of his back blowing taut with the force of his fall and currents in the air. He banked gracefully into an upwards spiral, picking up altitude and allowing Jamie a clear path.
She took it, her larger wingspan allowing her to catch up with Branson relatively quickly. She was amazed that she felt no imbalance in the support of her wings, her left having healed quite well, if not so smoothly. A month ago, she would have called it a miracle, but this form seemed to have its fair share of surprises.
They fanned out to cover more of the sky, and Jamie heard Branson's voice in her ear. "Now, I'm guessing you want to hash things out with me, right? I'm serious about the patrol, but if you want to vent your anger, now's as good a time as any."
She gaped, taken by surprise at his directness. "Well, yeah. I don't see how it's right for you to..."
She trailed off, staring at the city for a moment before she spoke again, trying to sound reasonable. "Alright, I know Humans and Gargoyles have different patterns of behavior. Believe it or not, I have noticed."
She heard him chuckle, then continued, "I've got no choice but to trust you, I guess. Besides, Elayne and Trent seemed to... agree with you well enough. I guess I was a little overzealous myself. Why don't you just explain this custom to me, and I'll save the ass-kicking for later?"
He laughed aloud, causing her to smile, and agreed, "That's fine by me. I really wasn't looking forward to getting curb-stomped tonight, anyway. But, I figured I'd extend you the courtesy... Okay, first off, you've got to understand something of our biology."
He cleared his throat, the connection bubbling with static for a moment, then continued. "It's a little odd. I'd guess Humans and Gargoyles have some common ancestor, but it probably wasn't much more than an amoeba. Our evolutionary history is not particularly close. Despite that, we have a lot of physiological traits in common."
Jamie noticed that much of his habitual drawl had faded, leaving an almost unaccented voice in its wake. "One place where we're different, though, is in reproduction. A Gargoyle woman isn't fertile more than once every twenty years. There is no chance of an unexpected pregnancy. It's just impossible. Given that, and how good it feels when we make love, there's little reason to be shy about it. That about answer your question?"
She flew on in silence, and Branson allowed her the time to think. Marquette Park unfolded itself under their wings, the verdant tree nursery catching Jamie's eye. She smiled wistfully, thinking that Kee would probably have felt more at home there than atop the Sears Tower.
Of course, even this leafy cathedral bore the marks of Man's hand, and the golf course to the west of it bore little relation to a natural landscape, but it was still a pleasant sight.
She squinted, noticing what looked like a bonfire burning in a small amphitheater. "Hey, Branson, you see that fire down there?"
The speaker hissed as he inhaled, replying, "Yeah. Stay high, but get your gun ready. I'm gonna head down, see what we've got."
She slipped the weapon into firing position, bracing it against her shoulder for stability, and answered, "All right, I've got you covered. Be careful down there."
Her eyes followed him as he pulled in his wings, not throwing away his altitude too quickly. She began to lose track of his form against the trees, and folded the helmet's eyepiece into place, activating its night vision system.
Hovering in a lazy circle through the air, she watched his cautious descent, praying that no one would look up at just the wrong time. When she glanced at the bonfire again, she noted some sort of sign or poster set up next to the stage, but wasn't able to make out the symbol on its front.
Branson whispered into his radio, "I think I know what this gathering's all about... I'm gonna come in for a landing, see if I can't edge in behind the stage and listen in. I'll need you to stay on overwatch. Taking off outta the forest would be difficult, so I'll need you to give me a boost when we're ready. Try to stay outta sight."
She told him, concern entering her voice, "I'm not going to be able to see you all that easily from up here. Are you sure you want to do this?"
He replied, sounding confident, "Trust me, you'll know if I run into trouble. Too bad we don't have Trent out here. Oh well. Wish me luck!"
----Chapter II----
Marquette Park
6734 S. Kedzie Ave.
9:47 P.M.
Branson set down softly in the forest, muffling his landing in the soft undergrowth, and quietly crept towards the stage, hands on his pistols. He'd seen the banner, too, and the symbol had been all too recognizable to him. A stylized hammer held within a circle, all in red, upon a pure black field.
The chances that any of the Quarrymen he'd run afoul of before would be here was exceedingly slim, but he had to find out. And, even if they weren't anyone he knew, he still had to find out what they were up to tonight. Hopefully it was nothing more than the usual fire'n'brimstone rally, but what if they'd found other Gargoyles in the area?
Glancing up, he found that he couldn't make out Jamie's form against the night sky. That was good, if he could see her, some of the hoodies in the crowd might make her out, too. Couldn't have that.
He'd always been light on his feet, and that tendency was proving useful as he quietly stalked towards the rally, straining to make out the words. It seemed like someone, one of the chapter heads, no doubt, was delivering an impassioned speech. Probably a good sign, he figured, since it had the sort of sound he'd come to associate with rabble-rousing. Still, he'd been wrong before, and he wasn't going to leave until he had confirmation.
Pulling the stylus out of his pocket, he slipped on his portable's display glasses, activating the wireless link. Even if he couldn't get close enough to hear, he was going to make sure he had a record of the speech for later enhancement.
It surprised him that there were no patrols running around. Usually the Quarrymen had squads running around the outskirts of their gatherings, watching for, well, people just like him. Maybe that indicated that they were low on manpower, something he'd have no objections to.
Keller slid through the assembly like a shark through a school of fish, scanning the crowd. Yutani had told him to be here, so he was. The boss had said that he guessed one or more of the specimens might try to listen in, as close as this rally was to their home.
Of course, it seemed to Keller that it'd just be easier to sweep in with an APC and a couple squads at high noon, grab the freaks, and take 'em home, but that's why the Doc got the big bucks and Keller did the grunt work, he supposed.
Though he couldn't tell through the heavy hoods they'd donned, he knew there were seven other operatives filtering through the crowd, just to make absolutely certain that someone plugged the freaks. The Quarryhammer made a nifty souvenir, though. When this op was over, he might have to stick his over the mantle. Boy, wouldn't that make a story to tell the kids... if it ever got declassified.
And, would this idiot on the stage ever shut up? Keller considered himself a reasonable man, slow to anger, but this demagogue was starting to grate on his nerves. Sure, Keller wanted these things in cages, where they could... dance for their supper, or whatever it was the Doc actually wanted to do with them, but splattering them in their sleep? That seemed like it was a little much.
Not to mention that the speaker only seemed to have about three different arguments, repeating them repeatedly in repetition.
Surreptitiously, he patted at his shoulder holster. Yutani'd be pissed if he actually had to use the hammer; he had said the operatives were to use the specially prepared dart guns on them.
He was secretly glad to have another weapon, though. No plan survives contact with the enemy, and in the heat of battle, well... you never know.
Branson wasn't the only one camped out in the bushes. A small, lean man hid in the undergrowth, a bulging satchel over his shoulder. Nathaniel Lloyd had been having a slow news week, and he'd heard about the secret, satanic rituals the Quarrymen did at their gatherings. Okay, so, it probably wouldn't get him the Pulitzer, but it'd keep his editor happy a little longer.
He'd learned long ago that flash photography was a big no-no in situations like this, and had sprung for a high-priced night photography setup some months ago, with the bonus he'd gotten for breaking that story about the Freemasons. Even after the medical bills for his wrist, that had still been a sizable chunk.
Lying in the soft moss like a sniper, he began snapping shots of the gathering, whispering softly into his voice recorder as he composed the photos. Funny, wasn't there some movement behind the stage? Something about it didn't look right, but maybe it was just one of the Quarrymen, suiting up for his big appearance or something.
He smiled, quickly working the shutter. It'd be nice if they decapitated a gargoyle statue on the stage or some such, but he could work with this.
Branson pressed his back flat against the stone foundation of the stage, nearly crushing his wings. Who was running this farce? Something about it seemed a little too easy, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?
At least he could hear well, though that was a mixed blessing, to be sure. Crouching, he drew his pistols, scanning from side to side as he listened, every nerve in his body on red alert. He knew that, if someone came around that corner, there would be absolutely no way that Jamie could get to him in time.
She'd be furious if she found out that he'd expected to be isolated from her, no doubt, but that relied on him surviving the night, so he'd be perfectly happy to face her wrath, given the alternative.
The orator on the stage wasn't a familiar voice, and Branson couldn't see her face for obvious reasons, but the rant was one he was well accustomed to. The woman spoke in an impassioned voice, the high, strident tones reaching across the entire amphitheater easily, even without amplification.
He listened as she declaimed, "...our beloved founder, Jonathan Castaway, gave his life in service to the cause! He died for your sons, your daughters, your families, and the good of this country! He was a visionary, ahead of his time, and he recognized these monsters for the threats that they are!"
Allowing a hint of righteous fury into her voice, she asked the crowd, "Friends, Americans, countrymen... lend me your strong right arms! We can only stop this menace if we stand together! All honest, hard-working Americans are free to, have a duty to join with us!"
As the crowd began cheering, she raised her voice even louder, proclaiming, "And these Gargoyles are not our only enemies. The mongrels created by Dr. Sevarius are impure, fit only to be beasts of burden, or crushed beneath our heels! Let us not forget that there are traitors amongst our own kind, as well. Some of our fellow men, perhaps even someone standing right here in the crowd right now, dare to stand against us in our righteous task."
She pointed an accusing finger at the crowd, the flickering flames of the bonfire reflecting in her eyes, the only features showing behind the mask. "Who amongst you will stand with us? Who amongst you will dare to do your civic duty and stand against these threats? Think not of yourselves, think of your families. What would you do if you knew that someone was holding a gun against your mother's head, just waiting for the right chance to pull the trigger?"
Shouting and shaking with fury, she roared at them, "These terrors of the night are as dangerous to us as a nuke in the hands of a terrorist! And, the government is too scared to do anything about it. This task falls to us, my brothers, my sisters!"
Branson sighed softly, several tears running hotly down his cheeks as he stifled his heavy breaths. How he would love to stride onto that stage and debate with that hothead. Well, actually, what he'd love most to do is to punch that bitch out in front of all her followers, but that would only prove her point.
Besides, he wasn't in the business of making martyrs. That was some karma he didn't want on his conscience.
He'd dealt with demagogues before, though. Once you start picking holes in their arguments, they just fall apart. He'd love a chance to explain what his people were all about to a crowd this size. That could be a bit of a problem, though, with as furious as this lot was acting. Public relations are all well and good, but he wasn't in the mood to get torn apart tonight.
He figured he'd probably be best off getting out of here, but some perverse urge made him stay. It wouldn't hurt to know how many people they'd managed to recruit this time. How could these folks take her hate-spewing seriously? Half those lines weren't even hers, anyway.
He glanced down, shocked to see that his hands were trembling with his barely constrained rage. That could be a problem, if this were to get ugly. He holstered the pistols quickly, knowing he wouldn't be able to pull off his usual trick shots if he couldn't concentrate.
And, a faint growl rising from his throat, lost in the roar of the crowd, he muttered, "I'll be damned if I'll prove her right by going on a killing spree."
The transceiver hissed in his ear as Jamie whispered, "I didn't copy that, Branson. Run that by me again?"
He whispered back, "It's nothing. Just talking to myself. Keep up the watch. I'm gonna stick around, see if can't pick up any more information."
She replied, sounding a little disapproving, "Sure, sure. Just be careful. Yell if you need me."
Well, he thought wryly, it's a little irritating having her doting on me like that, but it's better than having her angry at me. I'll take what I can get.
He clenched his fists as he heard heavy footsteps marching onto the stage, trying to control his emotions. To be so close to the leader of an... infestation like this, and not able to do a single thing about it...
Even if he gave himself away, trying to lead them into a trap with Jamie, the leader would probably stay behind anyway. No, fighting wasn't going to do much good this time.
Keller carried an armful of the hammers, straining under their weight as he passed them out to likely looking people. One of the other mercenaries strode along behind him, tossing hoods into the crowd like party favors.
Keller supposed that he ought to feel some guilt or remorse about this, but eh. Everyone needs a hobby.
These idiots had been roaming around for, what was it, thirty years now? Something like that, anyway. If he'd been leading them, their little crusade wouldn't have taken a year. So, really, it didn't make much of a difference whether or not he helped pass out hammers. In the hands of an untrained mob like this, they weren't going to change much, but it'd make the rabble feel better about themselves. What's so bad about that?
And, another thing, he'd watched those tapes until the memory sticks had nearly melted. There was no way a bunch of novices were going to beat down warriors of that caliber, hammers or no. Surely, the Doc would realize that.
Even if they did take down the clan, all that would prove is that they weren't fit for whatever research Yutani wanted to do with 'em. So, it was a win-win situation either way. And, it was such a simple pleasure, seeing the smiles on people's faces as they took the hammers from him.
Hovering in the Shadows above the amphitheater, Kee watched. Jamie seemed to be in little danger, and he would be well within his rights to call it a night. He had spent more energy than he had let on, testing her Ward. A more... traditionally bound spirit would have departed long before.
Branson, though, looked like he was going to be in trouble shortly, if he didn't start fleeing. And, knowing them as he did, he knew that if Branson was in danger, Jamie was soon to follow.
He streaked off, traveling at the speed of thought, the glow of his essence flaring as he focused on speed over stealth. The Lady hadn't asked, but she was going to get reinforcements whether she wanted them or not.
Nate had already filled up one memory stick and was well on his way through the second. Surely, something would be publishable out of this lot. Good thing that was his editor's job, not his!
Maybe he ought to head in, try to blend into the crowd, see if he could score one of those nifty hammers. Naaah, they'd never believe that a nerd like him would be interested. Best stay in the shadows, with his photographic gear.
Still, this was starting to look like a bust, just like the other rallies he'd gone to. He could get some good commentary in on the leader's speech, but he'd been hoping for something a little more exciting. Other than watching them dispense deadly weaponry to the crowd, he hadn't seen them do much, just a lot of yakking.
He panned his camera from the crowd to the semi trailers parked on the far side of the clearing, getting clean shots at their ID markings. Scratching his head, he wondered how they'd managed to get them in here in the first place. He knew the head warden of the park, and she was quite the hard-ass about keeping the place exactly as she intended it. She didn't even like having to let sedans into the park.
With a grin, he thought that this little gathering might just have gotten more interesting for him. He had no intention of trying to shut down the Quarrymen; after all, what's a reporter to do without a story? But, getting them a slap on the wrist for violating park regulations... he could get behind that.
Jamie's mind was alternating between boredom and horror. She had been keeping an eye on the gathering with her eyepiece's zoom function, and so far, there didn't seem to be anything amiss. She didn't like how many people had taken up the hammer, though.
Sadly, she found it all to easy to understand. So much was different in this world, but Humanity itself didn't seem that much different to her. That was something her Clanmates really couldn't appreciate the way she did.
With a heavy sigh, she realized that her human self might well have joined a group like this. It was all too easy for her to construct a scenario where James might have heard the impassioned speech and taken up the hammer, with only the best intentions, to be sure.
A thought struck her, and she smiled a little, realizing that she really hadn't changed as much as she thought. Was her drive to do what was, near as she could tell, the impossible, forming a cabal of spellcrafters any different from joining with the Quarrymen "to save mankind"?
The irony was that both allegiances would spring from the same emotions: compassion and a sense of duty. That'd always been her problem, she just cared too damn much.
As she wheeled her way through the sky, effortlessly maintaining her altitude, she became lost in her own thoughts and memories. So much so, that she failed to see the glint of starlight against glass in the bushes below her.
Nate grinned wildly as he worked the shutter. He'd wanted to get some sky shots so he could matte them in later, and it turned out his intuition had served him well. Even with the biggest zoom lens in his sack, he couldn't clearly make out which Gargoyle was circling the gathering, but if one was here, the others would probably be on the scene any time. If he'd had to wager a guess, he'd say it looked like Jessica, but it was hard to get the proper perspective against a night sky.
Things might just end up getting interesting after all. Pulling an energy bar out of his pocket, he dug himself in a little further.
Branson let his head fall softly against the stone foundation, his heart feeling particularly heavy tonight. It was odd, but he simply could not work up a good, solid hatred against these Quarrymen.
More than anything else, he felt a sense of pity for them. Even the chapter that had annihilated his clan had only been following orders, and their hearts. He chuckled softly, wondering what his sister, Onyx, would have thought about that. She'd always been the firebrand of the Clan.
Branson had learned a lot from him in the twenty years they'd had together, and it was intensely wrong that the passionate Gargoyle's life had been cut short so soon. But, time had scarred over the wound, and he'd made his peace long ago.
Still, it would have been nice to have her at his back right about now. Then again, she probably would have blown her stack by now and started busting some heads, which would have been disastrous, but...
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. This was no time to be woolgathering! At least he'd learned that they weren't targeting his Castle. That was a good thing to know, and well worth the risk in his opinion.
He glanced to the left and right, trying to figure out how to best to make his escape. Drawing his pistols once more, feeling steadier than he had before, he began to creep away from the stage, but a rustle of fabric caught his ear. He turned and froze, seeing a Quarryman leaping down from the stage.
They stared at each other for a moment, then the Quarryman yelled, "We've got one of those monsters back here! It's been spying on us!"
Branson thought to himself, to borrow a term, craptastic. He spoke into his radio, informing Jamie, "I think we're about to have... a situation."
Her voice filtered into his ear, concern readily apparent even through the distortion of the link, "Get out of there! I'm on my way!"
Branson looked at the Quarryman and sighed. "You know, friend, if you'd just let me go my own way, this would have been a whole lot easier on everyone.
He raised his hammer in defiance, telling the Gargoyle, "Yeah, you would say that, wouldn't you? I know your game, beast!"
Branson shrugged, then launched himself into a roll, firing at the man's hammer, trying to knock it from his grasp without hurting him.
The Quarryman gasped as his hammer went flying away, seemingly of its own volition, but rather than run, as Branson had hoped he would, he charged at the Gargoyle, trying to pin his arms.
Branson saw him coming and crouched down, using the claw-like projections at his elbows to catch the man's clothing, lifted the man over his back, and threw him to the ground. He leapt into the air and came down hard, driving his elbow into the man's gut, which caused him to cough up blood.
With a pitying look at the man, he said, "Stay down there. Keep out of my way, and I won't have to do that again. I don't want to kill you, okay? Can we agree on that?"
Stomping on the vulnerable shaft of the hammer, he hoped that Jamie would get down here before it was too late.
He thought about making a break into the forest, but that would just make it harder for Jamie to extract him. Besides, if he stayed close, he might be able to goad them into using their hammers. If he ran, they'd gun him down without a moment's hesitation.
He heard heavy, booted footsteps coming from either end of the elevated stage, and his heart sank. Four on one would be doable, but he'd probably have to do more damage than he wanted. And, if he crippled or killed anyone, they'd be made into martyrs. Jamie, where are you?
He glanced from side to side, one gun pointed each way, and took aim as he saw more the soldiers coming around the corner. Suddenly, the ground rushed up towards him, and he realized that another grunt must have jumped him from the stage...
Jamie hurtled through the air like a javelin, unconcerned about stealth or the strain she was placing on her wings. If she could survive diving off the Sears Tower, she would handle this, there was simply no other option.
Whatever Branson had done, the crowd was furious, chanting slogans and grabbing anything that came to hand. Several of them had even taken the banners that had been placed around the amphitheater, wielding as cudgels.
She thought about opening fire, but she couldn't be sure she would hit anything from this range, and she would run out of energy long before targets. Besides, it would only serve to rile up the crowd even more, and they didn't seem to need much help with that.
She swung the carbine down to her bicep, placing a hand on the hilt of her Keris sword, trying to gauge how long she had before she'd need to pull out of the dive. Then she remembered Branson's plan, and held her arm out in front of her, stiffening her elbow and wrist. She called out, "Branson, where are you? I can't find you!"
His breathing heavy, he forced out, "Behind the stage... help!"
Opening one wing slightly to bank into a turn, she angled herself to over-fly the backstage area, grim determination showing as she gritted her teeth against the strain.
She saw the Quarryman pinning Branson, and realized there'd be no way for her to boost him out of the fight, not without getting rid of that opponent, anyway. She placed her hand back on the hilt of her sword and tried to take aim on the Quarryman.
When she thought that she had a clear shot, she pulled the trigger, and a reddish beam glowed in front of her weapon for an instant, striking the Quarryman in the side of the chest. A seizure ripped its way through his body as the electrical energy grounded itself into his body, and Branson took the opportunity to shove the man off his back, pulling himself forward in a roll.
Letting the carbine drop, Jamie swerved again, aiming the closer pair of Quarrymen, roaring as she extended her arms, smashing into their backs. The force of the impact knocked her to the ground, though she landed on her feet, and sent the soldiers flying over Branson's head.
He took an instant to flash a smile at her, before turning to the other pair of soldiers. He commented, "You know, if you'd been much later, you woulda missed all the fun!"
She grinned at him as she drew her sword, commenting casually, "A wizard is never late, nor is she early. She arrives precisely when she means to."
He chuckled, opening fire on the soldier's hammers, hoping to drive them off. Two loud reports filled the night sky, two metallic clanks sounded out, and two heavy, steel hammers thudded against the ground, their heads dented by the force of his shots.
Far from fleeing, they drew Uzis from holsters on their belts and began to take aim at him. He knew there was no way he could dodge, so he tried to knock the guns out of their hands, but Jamie dashed in front of him, stopping a few feet past him, and began calling out Words of Power.
She gestured wildly, not even bothering to pull out her tome, relying on the mithril in her leggings to pump in enough mana, and screamed, "Conicio tergum glandes quod telum est improbus sors!"
The Quarrymen swung their weapons towards her, tugging on their triggers, and Branson screamed, railing against the injustice of it. But, to his surprise, a hexagonal, angled latticework of green light formed itself in front of the two Gargoyles, and the bullets ricocheted off its surface, sparks of yellow and green flying in all directions.
She grimaced, feeling the shield strain against her will, but held it together, draining more energy into its structure as she began to run forward again.
He trailed behind her, staying within the protective umbrella of the bullet shield, inwardly cheering her as she maintained the barrier against their hail of bullets.
With ominous clicks, their magazines ran dry, and two pairs of eyes went wide, watching in horror as Jamie allowed the shield to lapse and flung herself at one of the pair, sword held in front of her like a spear.
Branson took careful aim, and fired just past the Quarryman's head, the shockwave of the supersonic bullet knocking him around and deafening him. Jamie, on the other hand, drove the flat of her blade against the main's chest, bowling him over with her excess momentum. She thought that she heard something crack as she struck him, but he was still breathing, anyway.
Branson glanced around, noting that none of the soldiers seemed too interested in going after them again. "Jamie, stay with me. I'm gonna go address the crowd. Maybe I can sway a few of them."
She took a few moments to dispose of the weapons, her powerful arms making short work of them, as Branson holstered his pistols, looking at the backside of the stage. When Jamie was finished, he told her, "Okay, here's the plan. I'll head out there, see if I can make a speech before I get jumped. Stay back here, keep an ear out, and move in if you hear me getting ganked. I mean to walk away from this gathering, but I have to try. You with me, hun?"
She nodded, though she nibbled her lip softly with worry. "Be careful. If someone pulls a gun on you, I won't be able to get there fast enough. Don't be a hero."
He walked over to her, placed an arm around her waist, and pulled himself up against her chest, planting a kiss on her cheek, and then hopped onto the stage before she could react, leaving her stunned as he slipped behind the curtain.
Nate sighted in on the stage, eagerly watching the commotion. Now this was what he was waiting for! He'd thought Branson was a bit smarter than to walk into the middle of enemy-held territory like this, but knowing him, he had some cunning plan. Either way, it was going to make for some great copy.
He smiled, thinking he might just get the first page this time. It'd be about time, he was due, he figured. Past due, in fact. He felt a momentary pang of guilt about using people who trusted him this way, but it wasn't his fault if the Gargoyle decided to drop in uninvited like this.
It was a shame he hadn't been able to bring a camcorder, though. This was probably going to turn ugly, and he would kill for footage of a Gargoyle in combat.
Branson pushed the midnight blue curtain aside with a contemptuous shove, making sure to keep his claws well away from his pistols. Gasps, screams, and shouts sounded from the crowd, and he held up a claw to salute them, the way a politician or a performer would.
He raised his voice, seeming to ignore the hooded figures surrounding him, and regarded the crowd in a way that made it appear that he was speaking to each person individually. "My friends, can you not see these lies for what they are? This woman means to use you, playing you as expendable pawns to further her own agenda!"
The leader broke in, shouting, "Something I'm sure you're all too familiar with, eh, monster? I know your kin have wasted little time in taking credit for their acts before. So, you stop a mugging, big deal! Compare that to the destruction of a police station, or destroying historical sites with impunity!"
Branson turned to her, a wry grin on his face. "It's funny you should mention the police station. I assume you mean that incident thirty years ago."
He turned back to the crowd, a certain pleading tone entering his voice. "I ask that you trust neither of us! Trust the history books, and trust your duly appointed officials! I say you should check out the attack on Manhattan's 23rd Precinct for yourselves."
Breaking into a stage whisper, he said conspiratorially, "You might find out some interesting facts about the "beloved" John Castaway."
He glanced around at the soldiers, who were beginning to react to him. He was counting on them to make the first move. It was a risky plan, but he had to show the people who the real aggressors were.
Almost as though the thought were a summons, one of the Quarrymen grabbed his hammer, bellowing as he cocked it. Electricity began to crackle along the head as the scent of ozone filtered through the air. Grinning inwardly, though ensuring that he appeared terrified, he backed away from the soldier.
What he hadn't counted on was the grunt moving behind him, grabbing Branson in a chokehold. The hammer-wielding Quarryman stepped forward, flourishing his weapon as he smiled unpleasantly at the trapped Gargoyle.
Branson whispered into his radio, "Now, Jamie!"
Having heard his speech, Jamie had started figuring out the plan, and had taken the time he'd given her to climb one of the nearby trees, trusting its strong trunk to support her weight. Using the extra height as a boost, she launched herself into the air, roaring in righteous fury, not all of which was feigned, and burst through the curtain, tackling the hammer-wielding man.
As she'd hoped, the Quarryhammer slipped out of his grasp and fell to the stone floor, carving a good-sized hole into it. She wrestled him to the ground, shouting at him, "You would have used that on my mate? I have should have smote you where you stood!"
Branson was a little startled by her pronouncement. Her mate? However, he worked it to his advantage, still trapped by the burly arms of his captor, crying out in an impassioned voice, "No, my love! You mustn't lower yourself to his level! Kill him, and you'll be no better than he was!"
Releasing her captive, she stood, wheeling around to face the leader, her eyes glowing softly as she intoned, "I will have satisfaction. But, you are correct. These men are not responsible for what they wreak."
She pointed at the woman, speaking in an icy, utterly controlled tone, "You are the one I want. Face me alone, if you possess the courage to do so."
----Chapter III----
Marquette Park
10:22 P.M.
A chill breeze blew across the stage, rustling the Quarrywoman's uniform, shifting the thick mane that ran down Jamie's back as they stared at each other. A faint smile crossed Jamie's face, and the audience seemed to draw back, unnerved at their leader's hesitation.
Finally, the woman grunted, holding her hand out for a hammer. "I accept your challenge, monster. I believe I have the choice of weapon? Let us see if you are willing to take up the hammer in your own defense! Raphael, you'll be my second."
Jamie turned to Branson, motioning for his captor to release him. The heavyset man looked at his leader, who nodded, then let go. Branson walked over to her, whispering to her, "Nicely done. The crowd's acting very confused, but we've got a chance to get out of here alive."
She nodded, handing her sword and carbine to him, whispering back, "I just hope they don't go insane if I win. I don't want to start a riot."
He clasped her arm, pulling her around so he could get a good look at her, his concern readily apparent. "Don't get cocky, kid. You're good, and you're very strong, but she's probably been training for years with that thing."
Jamie took a Quarryhammer from the man who had been grappling with Branson, swinging it around a few times to get the feel of its weight. It felt a lot different from her sword, and she figured she would have to work harder to connect with it. Still, she could hardly back down now.
Gesturing with the hammer, Jamie pointed towards the bonfire, raising her voice as she said, "Clear those people out! We'll do this here and now."
The leader turned to her men, saying, "You heard the bitch. Get those folks out, before she starts getting bloodthirsty."
The Quarrymen that had been seeded into the crowd began moving them aside, clearing out a wide circle around the fire. Before heading to it, Jamie told Branson, quietly, "You don't have to stay. Nobody's watching you. This would be your best chance to get away safely."
Branson shook his head, saying, "Naaah, you might just need me. I've got a bad feeling about the crowd. Something's gonna happen, I figure. Knock 'em dead, babe, and remember that I'm here for you."
Jamie noted that no one had objected to the dagger she had tied to her left leg, but resolved not to use it except to save a life. She wasn't so certain about the Quarrywoman's honor, but hers would come out of this farce intact.
The leather satchel around her neck was another story, though. If magic would turn the tide of battle in her favor, then she would use it. She just hoped it wouldn't set the crowd against her.
She strode into the fire-lit circle, trying to appear confident. The Quarrywoman brandished her hammer, dropping into a low crouch. "Well, come on then. You haven't got all day, eh, monster?"
Jamie growled softly, irritated at the smaller woman. Judging by the way the uniform hung on her frame, this would be no easy battle. Surely, the Quarrywoman couldn't match strength-on-strength with the oversized Gargoyle, but she was a smaller target, and she'd be strong enough to be a problem, anyway. Not to mention, the hammer's electrical charge would be a distinct equalizing factor.
She shifted the hammer from hand to hand, easily able to bear its weight, and eyed her opponent. They circled around, each trying to gauge the other's weaknesses. Tired of waiting, the Quarrywoman lunged forward, leading with her hammer.
Jamie slid to the side, gauging how long it took her opponent to recover. Not very long at all, it seemed. Jamie would have to be very careful. Her opponent moved with a startling swiftness, seeming to flow from one position to another.
She waited for the Quarrywoman to attack again, not wanting to be seen as the aggressor, and didn't not have to wait long. She raised her hammer over her head, charging forward with blinding speed. Jamie, however, did the unexpected, and crouched low, grabbing the other woman's hammer with one hand, muscle flexing as she held the Human in place. Something about this felt wrong, surely no Human could be this strong!
Covering her dismay, Jamie whispered into the woman's ear, saying, "We never decided when this should end, you know."
The Quarrywoman roared, kicked her in the belly and pulled away, shouting, "It can never end until you lie in dust at my feet! If you desire "satisfaction", there can be only one outcome!"
Jamie grasped the hammer with her other hand, a wide-spaced grip to accommodate her bosom, and held it over her head, calling to the crowd. "I offered life to woman! Who now stands as the inhuman beast before you? I will walk away when you choose to fight no further!"
The Quarrywoman regarded her, speaking in an icy tone, "As long as I can still draw breath, I will fight you. This I swear!"
Sorrow shone on Jamie's face as she lowered the hammer, releasing it with her left hand, and began to step toward the smaller woman. She did not charge, nor was it a feint. She approached her opponent the way a workman would approach his site, with no compassion or pity.
She began swinging the hammer at the Quarrywoman with a measured tempo that would have not sounded out of place in a smithy. The head of her hammer rang against her opponent's weapon repeatedly, as she parried the measured blows with an ease born of long practice.
Without taking her eyes off her opponent's weapon, Jamie whipped her tail around in a low arc, slamming into the Quarrywoman's legs, sweeping them out from under her. Before she could stand, Jamie brought the hammer down with terrible force, slamming into in the smaller woman's stomach.
A sickening crunch filled the air, but it sounded more like metal tearing than the breaking of bone to Jamie's ear. Gasps and cries sounded from the assembly, but Jamie stilled them with a raised claw, saying, "She yet lives! Her armor turned my blow."
Tossing the hammer aside, Jamie knelt, holding a hand out to the downed woman, intoning, "I have my satisfaction. I'm willing to end this, here and now. Take my hand, and we'll see what comes next."
The Quarrywoman began to roll to her side, groaning, but worked up enough energy to spit at the ground in front of Jamie, staining it with her blood. "I'd sooner take the hand of Satan himself."
Sighing, Jamie began to stand, but something struck her from behind. She grunted and felt at her back, pulling a thin metal dart from the skin over her jugular vein. She held the small projectile in the palm of her hand and looked at the crowd, her dark eyes opened wide and shining in the fire's light.
She thought that she saw someone pushing back through the crowd, but at second glance, it seemed more like the interplay of light and shadow. She looked up, regarding the crowd, and asked quietly, though her voice carried over the sullen silence, "Will none of you take responsibility with this? My quarrel was with her, not with any of you."
She motioned Branson over and handed the dart to him, speaking quietly in his ear. "Any idea what was in that thing? I don't feel sleepy or weak, so I don't think it was a tranq."
He shook his head, pocketing the slender needle. "I don't know, but somebody got me with one just like it. I don't think this is the r - MOVE!"
He ducked, and Jamie leaned back as far as she could as a hammerhead swung into the space her head had occupied a moment before, a static charge coruscating along its surface.
She turned the lean into a back flip, landed on her claws, and pushed off once more, coming to a standing position again. The Quarrywoman had risen, grasping the hammer with both hands. Her breathing was shallow and raspy, and a dark fluid dripped from the impact crater on her abdomen.
It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Jamie thought it was some sort of industrial lubricant, not blood. Had she been wearing some sort of powered armor? That would explain how the Quarrywoman could have stood against her blows!
Nate was quite pleased with the shots he'd gotten so far. The fight had been over, he'd thought, a little too soon for his tastes, and he'd wondered why Jessica had been toying with the Human. That blow should have split her in half, so he'd assumed that the Gargoyle had pulled her punch.
But, this now, this was a bit more interestin'. Her opponent didn't seem to have slowed down that much, and now Jessica was unarmed. Not that such a state had bothered her before, in his experience, but it ought to be a bit less one-sided now.
He implored her silently, 'Come on, quit playing with her. You could crush her like a beer can. Get to it!"
Jamie reached into her satchel as she backpedaled, keeping some distance between her body and the hammer, and pulled out the Evocation tome, asking the woman, "What do you mean by this? I was willing to end the duel when I dropped you!"
The Quarrywoman snarled, "Yeah? Well, I mean to end it right now! Hold still, and we'll all get that happy ending!"
Jamie whispered, just loud enough that her opponent could hear, "You leave me no choice. I'm sorry."
Pulling open the tome by touch, she leveled her other claw at the woman, drawing a quick zigzag in the air, and shouted, "Fulmenos venite!"
She'd practiced this spell a few times with Kee, and had learned that it would form a momentary flash of lightning between her finger and her target, blasting it apart like a gunshot.
Her finger lingered on the tip of the zigzag as she cast the spell, and she felt some alien, wordless presence brush up against her mind. Her body froze as she tried to ascertain the presence's nature, but the magical connection remained open, and a crackling storm of electricity arced from her claw into the Quarrywoman's chest.
The battered woman's body became wracked with spasms as untold energy poured into it, but the majority of the electricity shorted its way into the systems of her hardsuit, causing a loud series of explosions as the actuators and microhydraulics overloaded.
Jamie's mind drifted, and she felt herself drawn towards the east by the siren's song of that alien presence. Before she could stretch out toward it, though, her concentration was severed as Branson tackled her, shouting, "Stop! You're killing her!"
She shook her head, trying to clear it, and the scent of charred flesh carved its way through her nostrils, making her feel nauseous. Branson looked concerned as he rolled off her, and said softly, "I know you needed to stop her... but I think you may have gone a little too far, babe."
Jamie turned to look at her opponent, who lay on the ground where she'd fallen, face-first. A plume of smoke curled up delicately from her back, and other than the brief spasms caused by residual electrical activity, she was completely unmoving.
Keller thanked his lucky stars that he'd managed to get out of the front lines of the crowd without the big girl noticing him. The Doc ought to be happy, he'd managed to nail one of them with the dart-thrower, and Roarke had gotten the male.
Keller was particularly pleased at that. These gargoyles had killed off two of his men, almost three weeks ago, and left a third with spinal damage. Roarke had gotten off lucky, just getting a really nasty concussion.
This didn't bother Keller as much as might be suspected, though. He'd only had to split the op bonus three ways. Even counting a penalty for the loss of the chopper, that still made for a tidy sum. Vendettas are bad for business, but it was still best that Roarke had plugged the beast, rather than one of the rookies. Now, if he could just pull his team out with out getting any more of them fragged, he could go to sleep a very happy man.
He grinned underneath his purloined hood as he saw the big one blow away the firebrand with some sort of lightning discharge. With the leather-bound tome she was packin'... he might just be able to get away with this.
Raising his voice, he shouted out, "That bitch just nuked Luisa! She's some kinda witch!"
As the crowd began murmuring, he started edging his way clear of them, thinking, 'That wasn't so hard. They should be able to get past the rabble, null sheen, but I'll have enough time to get us out of here.'
Jamie's eyes widened as she heard someone shout from the back of the crowd, yelling that she was a witch. Not an unexpected risk, given the fact, well, she was. She'd just hoped that the crowd would have thought she'd used a concealed particle gun.
Little chance of that with the way the spell had chained off, though. She'd have to ask Kee what that was all about, assuming they got out of here alive.
Branson pressed himself against her back, his pistols drawn, as the crowd began to press in, brandishing their weapons, makeshift and otherwise. Branson muttered, "This could have gone a little better. 'Least they didn't break out the pitchforks."
One of the members of the crowd hurled her sign at the two Gargoyles. Jamie knocked it away with her wing, but began chanting the words of her shielding spell twice, one after another, forming a bubble of protective energy around them.
The toll on her body and energy reserves was high, significantly more than either spell alone. She simply couldn't handle the current as efficiently when she had to manage two at once. Add that to the unpleasantly high cost the spell usually entailed...
She guessed that they had no more than five minutes before her energy was expended and the spells unraveled.
Shaking her head, she trying to focus, as the hexagonal edges of the shields touched and ground against each other with a loud squealing noise.
Branson shouted at the crowd, bellowing, "Clear a path! We don't want to hurt any of you!"
One of the newly minted Quarrymen raised his hammer, cocking it like a shotgun, and began stalking towards the two of them. Branson raised one pistol, sighting quickly, and snapped off a single shot. The 12.7mm round roared out like a charging bull, struck the charged hammer just below its charged head, and split the weapon into two.
The force of the shot sent the head into the air where it detonated like a small grenade, showering shrapnel down onto the assembly.
The tableau held for a moment, the two Gargoyles completely encircled by a crowd that feared too much to move against them. Jamie was unpleasantly reminded of the history lesson Branson had given her.
His voice echoed in her mind as she scanned the eyes of the men and women standing in front of her, "Humanity did what it did best... It hated."
She slid the tome back into her satchel, spreading her arms wide. "My mate asked that you trust no one here. I ask that you trust your own hearts. There is good within each of you, I know it!"
Sadness colored her voice as she pleaded, "Do not give into your darker urges. That's a struggle each of us, Human and Gargoyle, must face every day! Overcome your fear, your ha - "
Explosions rocked the circle as grenades burst above their heads, sending small rubber pellets and clouds of tear gas in all directions. Quarrymen and civilians alike scattered under the assault, or began firing at the air as the winged figures of Trent and Elayne swooped down.
Despite her elation at seeing the two of them, her heart sank. She thought that she'd almost gotten through to some of the members of the crowd, but after this assault, she had probably lost any chance of reasoning with them.
Not to mention, her mana was almost exhausted, her shirt hanging loosely over her chest as she emptied her tissues of energy to maintain the spells. If any of the Quarrymen began to open fire, there'd be little chance of stopping their fire.
Trent shouted down, "Gang way! We're going to get our Clanmates out, like it or not. Sir, I'm coming for you first!"
He stretched out his arms, plunging into a steep dive. Branson glanced back, then leapt into the air to meet him, stretching his wings widely to make the most of the boost.
Elayne flew cover for him, a grenade clasped in her left hand in case they would need a distraction to get Branson out. One of the soldiers cocked his hammer, hurling it wildly towards her with a shout, "Get the hell out of our turf, demon!"
She grabbed the hammer out of the air, cocking it again to sap the charge away safely. As she slipped it into her belt, she called back to the man, "Thanks for the souvenir, Mack!"
None of the other soldiers in the crowd shot at them, whether in shock or because of lingering doubts from Jamie's words. She could only hope that it was the latter, but was heartened to see some of the crowd tackle the soldier that had attacked Elayne.
Branson murmured into her ear through the radio link, informing her, "You saw what I just did. Elayne and Trent are coming down for you, next. Try to jump and meet them, the way I did."
She braced herself, watching for them. She was pleased that no one was trying to stop her, and several of the Quarrymen had even pulled off their hoods, tossing their hammers to the ground as they watched the audacious rescue.
Branson called out, "Now!" and Jamie threw herself into the air. Even with the airspeed Trent and Elayne had built up, they sagged dangerously close to the crowd under her weight.
Jamie gasped, then smiled broadly as two of the unmasked Quarrymen grasped her legs, shoving off with all the force they could manage, giving the trio just enough momentum to pull into the air.
Branson, gliding under his own power, said, "Okay, let's get out of here before they change their minds!"
Jamie, however, had a different idea. "Head to the east, towards downtown. I need to check on something along the way."
They began to hear sirens wailing, mostly from the east, and Jamie could only hope that there were ambulances as well as police headed for the rally. Her stomach lurched as she realized how the duel had ended. She was no medic, and it would have been hard to tell in the flickering firelight, but as she examined her memory, she became increasingly convinced that her opponent hadn't been breathing after her lightning storm.
Her face turned ashen as guilt began to wrack her. She had become precisely what the Quarrymen had claimed her to be, a destroyer instead of a protector. Hadn't one of the crowd called her "Luisa"?
Jamie felt that she had to remember the woman's name, and guessed that it would probably haunt her for a very long time. Even if Luisa's death had been unintentional, the result of a spell gone awry, she didn't feel that it absolved her of guilt.
Shaking her head, she shifted to her True Sight and began to scan the ground beneath her. Something had... contacted her during the spell, something nearby, and she wanted to find out what it was. Whatever it was, it shared some of the responsibility for Luisa's death, if nothing else.
The ground appeared as a shadowy fabric beneath her, undulating in the darkness, but she began to see faint lines of light running through it. She dove and watched one of the lines. It seemed to flow like a river, beneath the ground.
She decided to follow it, since several of the other lines of energy in her vision flowed in the same direction. Jamie suspected that, if she were to revert from her True Sight, the ground beneath her would be featureless.
The lines seemed to flow toward a central point, which seemed to rise like a mountain before her. Even distorted as it was in the Astral, she recognized the terrain below her. She realized she was headed toward Washington Park, a place she'd visited several times as a Human, and that this... focus of energy was situated on a small island, surrounded by a man-made lagoon.
Energy lines gathered at the focus from all directions, and several much larger veins flowed away from it. Her breath caught in her throat as she comprehended what had happened. She could sense no other intelligent beings here, and guessed that the focus itself must have somehow made a connection to her.
Trent swooped in alongside her, calling her name. It took a moment before he caught her attention. "Jamie, you okay? Yeh look like you've seen a ghost."
She shook her head, reverting to her usual senses. With a heavy heart, she covered her surprise at finding the focus, and confessed to him, "No, it's not that... I'm just thinking things through. Trent, I think I killed a
woman tonight."
He snorted, then said, "Yeah? Well, if she hadn't the sense to stay away from that lot, she got what was coming to her. Try not to let it worry you overly much, save it for the folks that matter."
She gazed off into the darkness, the faint light of the bonfire still visible behind her, and wondered whether there really was any chance of reconciliation between Humanity and the other three Races...
----The End----