Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  “And if the grohlm see me?” He tried to keep the anxiousness from his voice, but didn’t completely succeed. He asked. “Do I pull back or wait for you to reinforce me?”

  Gerrick was silent for a long moment, then said. “Don’t fear that the grohlm will overwhelm you. Nothing short of the Usurper himself could get close to you tonight.”

  Brandon said nothing. A chill worked its way into his guts as he realized what Gerrick was telling him. Sha’ha’zel was nearby, watching over Brandon like some sort of nightmare guardian angel. Brandon wasn’t yet a man, so the curse would follow and protect him from harm. Well, death at least. Sha’ha’zel didn’t seem to have a problem with letting people beat the crap out of Brandon. They just weren’t allowed to kill him.

  That was the Curse’s job.

  There was sudden movement below as the grohlm shifted en masse and began to encircle the hunters. Gerrick said. “It’s starting. Go. And be careful.”

  Brandon may have hesitated for half a second before slipping away, leaving Gerrick and the hunters to face the horde on their own.

  Chapter 17

  They heard the grohlm before they saw them, screeching and howling as they boiled from the trees like a swarm of devils. The cacophony shattered the unnatural stillness of the night, scattering the few animals that remained, but the hunters didn’t break before the horde. Not like before.

  Moving as a coordinated squad, every man with his own prescribed place and job, they opened fire. The deafening barrage of automatic fire tore the grohlm’s front ranks to pieces, blasting apart their cobbled together armor and filling the woods with the smell of blood and raw meat.

  The assault rifle jumped in Faux’s hands and stitched a ragged line through the pair of attacking grohlm as they rushed at him from the trees. Beside him, Teague was like a machine, picking his targets with careful aim and knocking them down as fast as they came. The forest was a riot of gunfire and the screams of dying grohlm. Faux bit down on the fear trying to claw its way out of his gut and called out. “Lights up!”

  Around them, the forest went from near total darkness to blinding white as a half a dozen more high powered head lamps lit up and were tossed into the trees. They weren’t as good as camp lanterns, but they lit up the grohlm and sent them into a panicked frenzy.

  The hunters kept shooting, picking their targets and holding their ground as the forest floor became littered with dead grohlm. Faux was nearly deaf from firing the rifle so much, but for every grohlm he killed, two more took their place. There seemed to be no end to them. But, thankfully, they seemed unfocused as some tried to attack the hunters, while others seemed to be turning to launch themselves back into the shadows.

  As if at another enemy on their flanks.

  Gerrick cut down two wolf faced grohlm that were focused on the fight below, catching them before they were aware of danger at their backs. Dancing past their falling bodies, he slipped around the swinging axe of a charging bull, kicking it in the back of the leg to send it crashing headfirst into a tree. It was still shaking its head when he cut it from its shoulders and spun to hurl a knife into the throat of a leaping cat. He was killing another bull before the cat’s body hit the ground. Around him, the forest was crawling with grohlm as they threw themselves at the meat grinder below.

  He was impressed with the hunters. They were standing their ground and doing it right, killing the grohlm almost as fast as they appeared. But Gerrick knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, one of two things would happen. The grohlm would break, scattering into the woods as they fled.

  Or the hunters would run out of ammo.

  Which started happening almost immediately.

  The fight was going almost completely in the hunter’s favor until the first deputy tried to reload his rifle without calling out for help. Whether it was the heat of battle or he just panicked, the deputy didn’t do what he was supposed to. They had all agreed that when their rifles ran low, they would shout out for cover as they reloaded. The deputy, a young guy named Tommy Hockstetter, didn’t call for help. Instead, he fell back a step and tried to reload on his own. He did all right as he released the clip, letting it fall to the forest floor, and grabbed a spare magazine from where they hung on his hip.

  That’s when it all started going wrong.

  He fumbled as he tried to seat the magazine and it fell from him fingers. He dropped to his knees, trying to watch for attacking grohlm as he groped at the forest floor, and never saw the monster that killed him. Tommy always wanted to be a police officer, ever since he was little. He did it to protect people, not to boss people around or get to legally shoot somebody. He was one of the good guys.

  The fox faced grohlm hit him from the side, its teeth burying into his neck even as it stabbed him in the side, its blade stabbing as fast as its twisted little arm could move. Tommy tried to scream as he fell, another grohlm rushing in to slash at his stomach, but all that came out was a garbled squeal.

  Winston and Baker was closest to the deputy and both broke ranks long enough to kill the grohlm swarming the dying man. Baker went to his knees beside the blood covered body, but it was too late. He was moving back to position when he took an arrow to the knee and crashed to the forest floor.

  Teague saw his friend go down and immediately moved to help, calling out. “Man down!”

  Baker was up on his good knee. He tossed his rifle aside and pulled his sidearm, shooting a wolf in the eye before it could reach him. He used his free hand to pull his knife free and shot two more grohlm that tried to take advantage of his injury. Winston and Underhill both tried to reach their fallen ally, killing any grohlm that looked close to reaching him, but Teague reached him first. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder on its strap, he pulled his own sidearm and used it to kill a charging ram before slipping an arm under his friend’s and helping him to his feet. Baker growled at him, saying. “Don’t be an idiot, Derek.”

  “Shut up.” Teague said, holding the other man up. Around them, the forest was a madhouse of blood and gun smoke as they tried to form up with the remaining members of their hunting party.

  There was a sudden crashing noise behind them and a roar as the biggest bear any of them had ever seen exploded out of the forest and smashed into them, swinging a massive hammer with one gigantic fist. The hammer hit Teague on the back swing, sending him and Baker both flying. They hit the ground rolling, dodging attacks from the scattering grohlm. Derek was gasping for breath, his back on fire and at least two of his ribs broken. Baker came up first, swinging his knife and slicing open a dog’s face before stabbing it in the throat. Teague tried to push himself up to his feet, but collapsed, unable to catch his breath.

  Winston let his dogs off the leash, setting them on the bear. He’d kept them close during most of the battle, using them to keep the grohlm at bay while he fired. But they had gone crazy at the sight of the bear and he could hold them back no longer. Once off their chains, the dogs charged the bear, barking and snapping at its massive legs. The bear reared back, momentarily confused, giving Baker and Teague a chance to roll clear. The dogs danced around the bear, snarling and snapping at it. One of the hounds got too brave and the bear caught it with the hammer, crushing it in one blow.

  The other hound leapt onto the bear’s back, growling as it bit the back of the bear’s neck. The bear bellowed an earth shattering sound that drowned out the gunfire, and heaved its shoulders, trying to shake the attacking dog loose. The dog let go, hitting the ground on its feet, and turned to renew its attack. But before it could launch itself at the bear, a lizard leapt onto its back and drug it down.

  The bear swung its hammer, smashing the lizard as well as the dog. Spittle flying as it roared, the bear beat its chest with one massive fist before it charged Underhill and Faux. Winston was trying to keep the grohlm off of Teague and Baker, shooting any that got too close. Faux and Underhill dove out of the way of the bear, unloading into it as it ran at them. It swung its hammer, smashing the low hangi
ng limbs of a nearby tree, and Underhill dodged under its arm and stabbed it in the armpit, dodging out of its way as it roared and lashed out in pain.

  Faux reloaded his rifle in 3 smooth motions, rolling to his feet and putting a triple tap into the back of the bear’s head, blowing its skull apart and sending it crashing to the ground. The hammer stayed up in the tree, hung up in the tangled branches. Faux called out. “Form up on Teague and Baker! Now!”

  Underhill and Winston moved up with Faux and they formed up around Teague and Baker. The two wounded men had reversed roles, with Baker now trying to help Teague get to his feet. Teague was breathing now, but he was having a hard time standing on his own. Baker grimaced in pain as he said. “We have to fall back. There’s nothing more we can do here, not without dying ourselves.” He had wrapped his long scarf around his knee like a tourniquet. His eyes were wide in the dark

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” Faux said, shooting a grohlm as it ran past the dead bear. He was exhausted, so he knew the wounded men had to be nearing collapse. He said to Baker. “You and Teague stay behind me.” He looked at Underhill. “Al, you and Winston watch the back trail. Don’t let anything sneak up on us. I’ll take point.”

  The grohlm had fallen back, focused on whatever was going on behind them, so the broken group of hunters were able to catch their breath and gather a few of the lights before setting off. A few grohlm circled them in the trees, growling at yipping just at the edge of the light. Sometimes there were all too human whispers.

  And laughter.

  Gerrick was breathing hard as he watched the survivors begin their long limping journey out of the forest, the surviving grohlm were scattering into the forest, most heading deep into the woods, back in the same direction that Brandon had went. A few stragglers trailed in the wake of the hunters, hoping to take advantage of the darkness and the men’s exhaustion.

  Gerrick watched the retreating men for a long time before following. It was hard not to turn and sprint back in Brandon’s direction but the boy could protect himself against the grohlm. And Sha’ha’zel would protect him from anything worse. He would get the hunters back to the parking lot.

  After that, they were on their own.

  The whispers followed the hunters all the way back to the parking lot, pacing them in the darkness as they limped and stumbled out of the forest, but stopped when the reached the parking lot. They broke through the tree line and came to a shambling halt at the edge of the broken concrete. Ahead of them, the two parked vehicles waited.

  But there was no deputy.

  Standing in the parking lot, between the survivors and their only means of escape, was a pack of wolves. Six of them, all standing like men, all holding weapons. They were silent as the hunters moved forward. Faux didn’t hesitate. He raised his gun and fired, hitting the lead wolf in the chest and knocking it off its feet. The others scattered, going off in several directions to try and flank the hunters.

  Faux shouted at the others. “Get to the cars! NOW!” He kept firing, taking down another of the wolves, before heeding his own words and charging across the parking lot. The remaining wolves threw themselves at the survivors, coming in low and fast. They were silent as they attacked. The pop of gunfire was flat and hard in the wide open expanse of the paring lot, reverberating off of the concrete and the metal silos.

  Teague leaned heavily on Winston as he aimed with his sidearm and shot another of the wolves through the eye. 3 down.

  3 to go.

  Underhill was helping Baker cross the lot, so he didn’t see the wolf heading their way. But Baker did. Whipping his arm hard, he sent his knife tumbling through the air and somehow caught the wolf in the chest, wounding it but not killing it. It fled, barking like a kicked dog, and Baker laughed.

  That was when the spear caught him in the throat, sending him and Underhill both sprawling. Teague spun around, firing as he did, but missed the thing that threw the spear. It was crossing the parking lot in a loping run and the sight of it made Teague want to cry out. It was another wolf, larger than any he had ever seen. The other grohlm were dwarfed by it. It was fully armored and, unlike the other grohlm, it was armed with more than just a sword or two. It had a quiver on its hip, bristling with short spears, and a small shield on its left arm.

  Teague shot again. And missed.

  Faux was focused on the two smaller wolves, who were flanking the group, trying to get in behind them, so he didn’t see the alpha wolf coming their way. Underhill was crouched by Baker, trying to staunch the neck wound without removing the spear.

  Winston cried out and fell as one of the other wolves leapt in and raked a sword across his back, sending Teague crashing to the ground. His gun went flying and he cried out as his broken ribs screamed. The big armored wolf was suddenly standing over him, its mouth turned upward in a terrible grin, its tongue lolling. Faux was shooting at one of the others, his back to the horror show happening behind him.

  Teague yanked his knife free and got it up just in time to block the wolf’s attack, deflecting the spear at the last possible moment. The wolf lashed out, kicking Teague in the chest and sending him onto his back. Winston was on the ground, wrestling with the wolf who slashed him, and was no help at all.

  Teague tried to get the knife back up and the wolf knocked it from his hand with contemptuous ease, pining him onto his back with its foot. It was wearing heavy leather boots, studded with short iron spikes. The leather was old and cracked and needed oiled. A strange thing to notice when you’re about to die. Teague thought of his wife, Rachel, alone at home with their little girl and stared up into the thing’s triumphant gaze as it raised its spear to finish him off.

  Without warning, the wolf spun and its spear danced upward. The blade deflected an attack that should’ve took the wolf’s head from its massive shoulders, but gave Teague a chance to roll to relative safety as the wolf turned to face its attacker.

  The black garbed figure behind the wolf didn’t give it a chance to react, never letting up its attack. But the wolf was impossibly fast, using its spear like a sword to deflect and counter the other’s attacks. The two figures were a blur as they danced across the broken parking lot, the clang of sword on spear replacing the sporadic sound of gunfire.

  Teague tried to pull himself to his feet, but fell down when his back screamed in protest. He lay on the ground and stared at a strange figure fighting the wolf. The long cloak hanging from his savior’s shoulders billowed out as the fight continued, the two fighters nearly evenly matched. The other wolves had fallen back as their alpha launched a blur of powerful blows at the rescuer. It should have been enough to cut the other to pieces, but somehow the sword was always there to turn away the long spear before it could touch anything but air.

  Rough hands suddenly grabbed Teague up by his arms and he was being dragged to his feet by Faux. The federal agent was covered in sweat, his rifle hanging loose from his shoulder. Winston and Underhill were crouched beside Baker, who was still on his back. Underhill watched the fight before them with wide eyes, a splash of blood marring his scarred cheek.

  Baker wasn’t moving.

  Teague tried to go to his friend, but Faux stopped him. He just shook his head and steered Teague toward one of the waiting vehicles. The other two men followed, leaving Baker where he lay. Teague let himself be put into the backseat of his own vehicle, staring hard at the parking lot and the bodies scattered across the concrete and the two warriors fighting it out in the moonlight. The other wolves were ignoring the retreating survivors as they watched the alpha fight the interloper.

  Teague’s gaze dropped to the dark hump that was his dead friend and felt his face tightening in anger and an anguish that was paralyzing. This had to end and it had to end soon. The price was far too high for failure. If the gateway wasn’t closed tonight, Teague would never be able to live with the guilt. Good men had died tonight and it was on him and nobody else.

  It had to be worth it. Their lives had to count for s
omething.

  Gerrick slipped past the slashing spear and drove a hard kick into the alpha grohlm’s face, or at least that was his intention. But the wolf was too damn fast and the kick caught only air and Gerrick was forced to dance backwards, sword flashing as he fought to keep the wolf’s spear from touching him. The armor bore more than a few deep scars from him being too slow, but it was doing its job. He’d taken no wounds yet.

  He was still somewhat amazed by the lightweight composite the armor was made of, at its strength and how flexible it was. He had allowed a mistrust of technology to keep him mired in old traditions for far too long. Brandon coming to Highgarden had opened him up to new ways of doing things.

  After so many years, it was nice to know he could still learn new things.

  The surviving hunters had made it to one of their vehicles and were already driving away from the fight, broken and bloodied. But it could’ve been far worse. Gerrick hoped they knew that. With one less thing to worry about, Gerrick was able to focus on the fight before him.

  The wolf had noticed the hunter’s departure as well. It leapt clear and chuffed at the other wolves, who had started moving in, as if to join the fight against Gerrick. The others backed off, growling and staring hard at their leader. The packmaster turned and faced Gerrick, its malevolent gaze glittering with a far too human intelligence. It paced in front of him, its spear tapping lightly against its armored thigh.

  Gerrick did nothing. Standing still, his muscles loose, he waited and watched for the attack that was to come. The wolf’s mouth lolled open in a hideous grin and it raised the spear and rapped it against his chest. The blade rang off the steel and the wolf growled. It spoke in a gutteral voice. “Nashoba.”