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Chapter 9: Déjà Vu.

"I can't believe we're going back there again." Brian sighed in exasperation as he trudged through the natural caverns. He had made damn well sure he was well-armed; both his M14 and the shotgun weighing him down as they had before. Only this time he knew he would need the extra firepower. "Are you sure this is the only place we can find those jewels?"

Tricky snorted from his spot a few yards ahead of the Marine. "We haven't found them anywhere else but Ice Mountain, Brian. Besides... you kicked those Sharpclaws' butts last time we came through there. We don't need to worry about anything!"

"They might have found time to reinforce their numbers, kid. That's why I'm telling you to stick close and keep an eye out." The human glanced up to see the familiar snow-covered terrain they had been through mere hours before. At least this time he wasn't stripped to his under armor... a fact he was grateful for when they emerged back into the frozen valley.

The first thing the two noticed was the distinct lack of Sharpclaw bodies... either the woolly mammoths or more Sharpclaw had taken care of the corpses. Brian had his money riding on the mammoths... and confirmed it by the way one of them approached them almost as soon as they walked out into the open.

"You have returned, brave Prince. You have brought word from your mother about our Gatekeeper's plight?" The Snowhorn asked eagerly... which almost caused Tricky to stammer. He hadn't even asked his mom about what to do... but even when put on the spot, the Earthwalker still managed to give a diplomatic response... regardless if his human ally was going to like the repercussions.

"Yes, I have. Mom sent us to help you... what's happened to Garunda Te, anyway?" Tricky had to admit he was a little nervous about asking. Until the two strangers arrived, he had been pretty much sheltered from the atrocities that General Scales had committed... but he had heard his fair share of rumors.

The mammoth pointed his trunk towards a large gate that had been hastily erected across a small opening in a rock edifice nearly fifty yards away. "The Sharpclaw took him and confined him in a makeshift prison... and took all the other Snowhorns off to the Darkice Mines. They said we were too old to be of any use, so they stuck us down here and make sure we don't leave as well... filthy bastards. I'm not too old to squash them... that is if they weren't starving us to keep us too weak to put up a fight." the Snowhorn huffed as he mentioned the conditions they had been put through.

"We'll see what we can do. So, Garunda Te is locked up in there? Can you help us get that gate open?" The Snowhorn shook his head, offering only a shrug to the Earthwalker. Undaunted, Tricky nudged Brian's leg, causing the Marine to look down.

"What's going on, anyway?" he asked, glancing back up to the gate the mammoth had been pointing at. He had a sneaking feeling that they were being asked to take it down. Without even waiting for a response, he simply strode towards it, his gloved hand brushing against the stock of his shotgun. "They need to get through here, right?"

"That's what they said, Brian. The Sharpclaw have locked the Gatekeeper... er, their leader, of sorts... in there. They've imprisoned the entire tribe, pretty much." Tricky simply followed the soldier, and his eyes widened when he saw the lock firmly entrenched between a couple of the bars. How're we going to get through that? We gotta find the key!"

"Key?" Brian shook his head, offering a smirk to the young dinosaur. "I'm not going to waste time finding a damn key while a friend's life is on the line. Plus, I don't care if I cause some property damage while I find those jewels we're supposed to be searching for." The Marine continued forward, unslinging the Remington from its spot on his back. He checked the chamber and frowned... reaching into the satchel at his side. "I suggest you and your friend stand back. It's going to get loud."

The young Earthwalker backed off several yards, motioning for the curious Snowhorn to do the same. "You saw what he did earlier... he's got better firesticks than the Sharpclaw do. Plus, he's trying to save the life of the other alien that crash-landed here. I don't know what they are... you've already seen him, and she looks like a Lylatian fox... only colored blue."

The Snowhorn paused and looked at Tricky. "Did you say... blue? Does she happen to carry a powerful spear weapon? Ceremonial jewelery? Markings on her arms?" This was surprising to him... he had heard tales of long ago... did they actually exist?

"Yes... she has a staff that glows with magical energy,and strange markings on her arms. She hasn't been here in the Snowhorn wastes, though... what do you know about her?" What the Snowhorn described fit Krystal to a letter... but how did he know?

"Brave Prince... there are old legends of creatures such as this. They are called Cerinians, and arrived here to help us long, long ago. They used to appear at the Warpstone back in Thorntail Hollow, if the stories were true. I'm surprised the Warpstone hadn't told you any of this." The Snowhorn was about to continue, but was interrupted by a shout from the human.

"Found a slug, and I'm about to demolish this lock. Quit yakking and get back... this might be hazardous for your health!" Brian slid a single three-inch Magnum shotgun slug into the breech of the weapon. Instead of firing a quantity of pellets, a slug consisted of a single, heavy piece of lead.... acting like a giant bullet of sorts. Shotgun slugs could penetrate most body armor and even armored glass at short range... and were used as a makeshift way of breaching locked doors.

Waiting for the two to back out of range, Brian lifted the Remington up and pointed it toward the door. As a precaution he shut his eyes and put his head forward... if there were any fragments he would be protected by his helmet, at the very least. His finger pulled the weapon's trigger.

The shotgun blasted its deafening report, amplified by its close proximity to the wall. A one-ounce chunk of metal traveling just over the speed of sound slammed into the lock holding the gate shut. Even though the lock was stout and meant to take quite a bit of abuse, it simply ripped apart. When Brian opened his eyes, all that remained of its presence on the gate was most of the bar that held it in place.

The Marine grinned as he picked up the remains of the lock and threw it aside; the chunk of tortured metal disappearing into the snow several feet away. "That's how you get through a locked door." He racked the shotgun's pump and thumbed another shell into it; afterwards turning towards Tricky. "C'mon... we got that little obstacle out of their way. Let's bust their leader out of the joint and be done with it... we got some jewels to collect."

The gate was easily enough pulled open, allowing the two of them entrance into the natural valley which lay beyond. To their right the valley sloped downward, stopping at a roaring stream... although Brian could see there was some sort of cavern entrance beyond that. To their left, however, was their goal... and a desperate voice called out from that same direction.. this time it seemed to be in English. "Hurry, lads! Get me out of this infernal cesspit!"

The Marine's eyes squinted, trying to see past the glare of the snowfield. The sun was starting to go down and that meant he wouldn't be fighting the glare... but colder temperatures weren't something he wanted to stick around for. He did, however, spot his quarry... a mammoth's trunk sticking out of an iced-over pond. How did that work? Puzzled, he crossed the distance in mere seconds, eyes and Remington scanning for any opposition. His training and instincts both screamed at him... the whole situation smelled like an ambush.

As he reached the edge of the pond, he saw the source of the trunk... and the decent-sized hole chipped into the ice. The mammoth inside was large even for its kind, but he could tell by his movements that he was incredibly weakened... they were definitely starving the poor sod. "Thank the Krazoa you finally showed up, lads!" The mammoth looked the human over. "You might look strange, but anyone who is willing to help us against the Sharpclaw is welcome in our lands. Who are you?"

"Sergeant Brian Lancing, United States Marine Corps." he stated simply, making sure he was keeping an eye out for any possible interruptions to their conversation. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell Tricky was doing the same... he might be annoying but at least he was developing some sense of tactics. "Going to take one helluva icepick to get you out of there... how'd they manage to ice you in?"

"I'll explain later, boy. Right now you need to get me out of here. Do you see that tree?" Brian followed the mammoth's pointing and saw a tree further down the valley... a scraggly-looking thing that looked to be surrounded by dead tumbleweeds. "That's a frostweed tree. They taste like filth but it's something to eat. If I can regain just a little more strength, I can break free."

"Alright. You got yourself a deal." Brian stood up just as he heard a commotion and more movement from another cave entrance off to his right... he had been watching that rather closely. Several Sharpclaw emerged; a stockier variant with blue scales... all armed with spears and axes. They looked like they meant business. So did he. "Right after I pop some lead into these worthless mofos."

The Marine backed away, snapping the shotgun's stock to his shoulder. "Tricky! Get your ass in gear and start dragging those weeds up to him! I'll lay down suppressive fire!" As the Sharpclaw charged, he was ready. The Remington boomed its response into the cold air; its stock slamming against Brian's shoulder. The weapon belched forth a quantity of lead shot which ripped into the lead lizardman... sending it straight to the snow-covered ground.

To their credit, they didn't break rank... even as Brian started firing into the massed crowd. The shotgun roared again and again, Brian working the pump as fast as it could go.... until he ran into the only tactical flaw the shotgun had. The weapon could only carry five rounds, and he didn't have time to reload.

Two Sharpclaw were left standing after the onslaught; as they charged Brian didn't have any time to reach for another firearm. This would have to be up close and personal. One of them tried to take a swipe at him with his club... which was blocked by the unyielding steel of the empty shotgun. Brian growled and kicked out at his opponent... throwing the lizardman off-balance enough to drag the hot barrel against its side. The rapid fire he had been doing with the weapon had made the twenty-seven inch tube uncomfortably hot. The Sharpclaw hissed and pushed away.

That was enough of an opening for Brian. The Marine lashed out with the shotgun's stock, ramming it underneath the recoiling lizardman's jaw. He could hear bone crunch and it dropped away from him, howling in agony. The other Sharpclaw growled, attempting to charge him... but there was a little too much distance for it to be effective.

Brian's hand shot down into the satchel at his waist, grabbing another shotgun shell. He rammed it into the weapon, racked the slide, and pulled the trigger. A load of twelve gauge double-aught blasted the final opponent backwards... and he quickly reloaded the weapon again.

Unfortunately, there wasn't any time to rest. A startled cry from the distance caused him to snap around... more Sharpclaw were making their way towards Tricky. The Earthwalker had managed to grab a large tumbleweed from the base of the tree... but hadn't managed to escape the notice of their antagonists. He scrambled up the slope towards Brian; his jaws clamped around the brushy piece of sustenance as if it were as valuable as his own life.

The Marine begged to differ. Dropping the Remington to the snow-covered ground, he quickly brought the M14 to play. He sighted in on the closest Sharpclaw and fired a shot downrange; the 7.62mm bullet tearing into his opponent as he expected. The Sharpclaw dropped like a rock and the others started falling back as the trained soldier took a few more potshots at them. "Move your butt, kid!" he shouted as the Earthwalker neared the iced-over prison.

Tricky eagerly handed the brush to the Snowhorn, who just as eagerly took it. "Thank you!" he exclaimed just before stuffing the scraggly weed into his mouth. Even though it tasted foul, he devoured it as if it were a gourmet treat... and he awaited at least a little energy from the precious food. "Hold them off for a few more moments, lads!"

"Affirmative." Brian replied, scanning around for any new targets. Apparently none of them were armed with rifles... and they were wisely hanging back from the opponent with one. The Sharpclaw were learning... or at least hearing stories about the insane alien with the boomstick. He chuckled at that, but stopped when he saw a glint of light off to his right.

He glanced to a small collection of plants... tired-looking yet struggling against the harsh environment. They were on long, slender stalks, and each seemed to have a large bud at the end. One had partially opened and what lay inside had caused the glint... one of the jewels they were looking for!

"Tricky!" The Earthwalker's head snapped up, and the Marine pointed off towards the plants. "Those plants! They're growing the rocks we need to get! See what you can do about collecting a harvest, eh?"

"Sure, sure... get the Frost Weeds, get the magic jewels from the plants.... I'm not a farmer, you know!" Brian was greeted by the Earthwalker sticking his tongue out at him as he passed by. The absurdity of that caused him to chuckle. At the very least, he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

"Just keep an eye out, willya? We aren't out of the woods yet." The Marine kept watching the area down the valley closely, just in case the remaining Sharpclaw decided to brave his rifle fire once again. Yet... he was too intent, too focused. The Marine didn't hear the heavy footfalls behind him until it was too late.

"Behind you, lad!" the Snowhorn shouted, his powerful muscles and rock-hard tusks cracking against the ice in a futile attempt to break through his icy prison in time. Garunda Te was too late, but he kept on trying to force himself through anyway.

Brian turned around, tucking his rifle to his shoulder. He was stopped by a massive scaly hand wrapping around the M14. The trained, experienced Marine tried to keep hold of his weapon, but it was for naught... it was as if the rifle was tied to the bumper of a semi that decided to start on a drag race. The scope-equipped rifle was torn out of his hand and tossed aside, coming to a clatter in the snow several yards away. The Marine then came face to face with the largest Sharpclaw he had seen yet... except for General Scales.

This one rivaled his commander in size, and was clad in what passed as armor for his race. Just about eight feet of pissed-off reptile was in front of him, and Brian could see a similarly-sized one emerge from the cavern entrance just beyond. He cursed himself for his stupidity, but if he was going to die for this mistake... he would show them how a Marine died.

The Sharpclaw grabbed the human in his other hand, opting to simply throw the soldier with all of his might. Brian tumbled through the air before colliding with a nearby rock. His armor absorbed most of the blow, but the pain that lanced up and down his chest was the telltale sign that the impact had broken ribs. He struggled to get upright.. managing to do so even through the pain. "If you want me.... you're going to have to work for it, you fuckers." His left hand shot up in the classic symbol of defiance of a raised middle finger... yet the two massive Sharpclaw weren't paying any heed.

"Going to show you.... how a Marine goes out!" His other hand fell to his last line of defense... his Colt. The M1911 had been in his family for almost sixty years... had went through Europe during World War Two, accompanied his uncle in Vietnam(but had been safely stashed in his footlocker during both his tours), had been carried in the line of duty by his father for several years afterward... and was finally passed to him. The old .45 had been transported to an alien planet, and had saved not only his life, but the life of an alien being he had grown to consider a comrade. Now... the pistol was going to speak once more before he was snuffed out. He was going to go down fighting.

The pistol was extracted from its holster as the Sharpclaw bore down on him. He didn't bother to carefully aim as he stood up, simply pointing the handgun at his opponents. He pulled the trigger; the old Colt booming out its last song of defiance before the Sharpclaw reached him.

The 240-grain .45ACP ball ammunition didn't even faze the giant Sharpclaw he had hit... the subsonic rounds simply flattened themselves against the thick metal plates that comprised its slightly enchanted armor. The last thing Brian saw was its ham-sized fist bearing down towards his head... then everything went black.