"Awake the Dragon Within"
May. 25th, 2022 02:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Awaken the Dragon Within"
6/27-6/28/1996
I.
The whisper of a bare foot moving over grass, the intake of hissed breath between teeth, the rubbing of cotton at a fold in clothing... any one of these would have been enough to jolt Bane into heightened awareness. Deming Street had only one street light, and that was fifty feet away, over the stop sign where Lark Street intersected perpendicularly. Otherwise, there was only a sliver of crescent moon and the stars in the summer night sky to provide illumination. Behind a cluster of elm trees, nearly invisible in his all-black outfit, the Dire Wolf pinpointed where someone was approaching.
On the opposite side of the narrow back street was a strip of grass and then forest. Bane watched as a hulking dark form seperated itself from the shadows of the woods and moved out onto the road. They were one block from Selkirk's quiet house. The Dire Wolf stole silently through the gloom on an interception path. He knew from the furtive way the stranger moved that this was no innocent civilian returning home from a neighborhood bar or out for some fresh air on a sleepless night. No, this was a hunter of men on a mission. No cars had gone by on this short back road for over an hour. They were unlikely to be disturbed.
Now, as Bane rushed toward the stalker, that dark figure froze into position. It swung around a second too late. The Dire Wolf lunged forward, spinning on one heel and driving a stiffened leg deep into the pit of the assasssin's stomach. All the air was forced out of the man's lungs with a whoosh, and he fell back to land hard in a seated position in the middle of the road.
"Stay down," Bane said barely above a whisper. He could see now that this was a big muscular black man, bare from the waist up, quite imposing. "I have a few questions."
"You can ask me when we meet again," spat the killer, "In Hell!" As he spoke, he heaved up to his feet and plunged forward with both open hands ready to clutch. He ran directly into a straight jab that snapped his head back and derailed his attack. A split-second later a fierce left cross spun him halfway around to send him crumbling to the cold road surface.
"When you get to Hell, don't wait up for me," Bane replied. From what he could see in the murk, this man looked like a typical Danarakan with the rich dark skin, distinctive hooked nostrils and prominent cheekbones. Chest and abdomen seemed fit enough, but the arms were overdeveloped to the point of being grotesque... thick columns of bone and muscle, ending in oversize hands.
A Mulongi strangler. One of the Night Gorillas.
The dazed man mumbled a few indechipherable words, one of which sounded very much like 'Kamende.' That got Bane's attention. If Arem Kamende was behind recruiting all these murder societies... The Dire Wolf dropped to one knee beside the groggy African. "What about Kamende? Did he send you here?"
Before the strangler could answer, something whizzed over Bane's head closely enough to ruffle his hair. There was a thump of impact behind him, a gasp and then the dull thud of a body falling. But the Dire Wolf had already sprung twelve feet to the side, rolled and come up behind a bush with his Smith & Wesson extended at full arm's length. He had reacted so quickly that he was concealed and ready to fire before the body behind him hit the ground.
"Steady there," warned a calm man's voice with a faint accent. "Mr Bane, isn't it? You should realize you were about to be bludgeoned over the head by the other Mulongi. My arrow saved you that experience."
The newcomer was a tall, lanky man with pale skin and short blondish hair as shown in the moonlight. He was wearing simple dark clothing and had a Y-shaped leather quiver across his back. In his left hand was a classic longbow. With his other hand, the bowman tugged off a silk headband which had been covering his eyes during the shot.
"A Blind Archer?" said Bane. "Hold very still, buddy, I've heard about you guys. My friend Chen Wong-Lai is dead because of your sect."
Deliberately, the Blind Archer unstrung his bow and placed it on the road in front of him. "You can surely see I am no threat to you now. Listen. My name is Josef Jubilec, and I have been looking for you. As far as I know, I am the first to ever leave the Blind Archers and live."
"Yeah? Tell me more." Still keeping his long-barreled .38 aimed squarely at the man's center mass, the Dire Wolf straightened up and stepped back onto the road. "If you defected, the Archers must have sent their best to make sure you never got to tell anyone about it."
"The Grandmaster did indeed some five of their senior bowmen after me. But they could not send their very best, of course." Jubilec jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "Because that would be me."
"Interesting." Bane had moved to where he could snap a quick glance at the two Night Gorillas. The one he had slugged was stirring, getting ready to revive. Twenty feet further back, a second strangler was lying in the road with a shaft sticking up from the center of his chest. "What is it you want with me, anyway?"
Jubilec lowered his hands from where he had been holding them up near his shoulders. "It's going to be difficult enough to survive in the real world with no contacts. No connections. All I have is some cash and a few IDs I took from the Archers who pursued me. But everyone in the Midnight War has heard of you, the heroic Dire Wolf. And of your team of Tel Shai knights, the Kenneth Dred Foundation."
Decades of training in reading body language and vocal inflection was prompting Bane to trust this man to some extent. He did not put his gun away, but he did lower it to point at a spot exactly halfway between them. "You're out of luck then. I disbanded the KDF years ago. I don't have a team of Tel Shai knights to lead anymore."
The faintest smile appeared on the bowman's narrow face. "Isn't it time, then, that you started a new one?"
II.
Twenty minutes later, Bane and Artie were riding in the dark green van up the steep side of Overlook Mountain. In the rear compartment, the dead Night Gorilla was covered with a thin blanket. The other one snored with a rasping edge to the noise. His wrists and ankles were secured with wire and he had also been fastened to a hole in the inner wheel well to make sure any sudden turns or stops didn't move him around much.
Turned around in the passenger seat, Artie Rosen regarded the sleeping prisoner suspiciously. "I don't see how he's going to be answering any questions in that condition, Mr Bane."
"There's an antidote to the anesthetic we use," Bane replied. "It's harsh. He's not going to be feeling his best for a few days. But I don't feel much sympathy for a Mulongi... they volunteer to be stranglers and their initiation demands kills a family member."
From the wide seat behind the driver's compartment, Sam leaned forward. "Where's that Archer guy now?"
"He stayed to keep an eye on Selkirk's place for the moment. We exchanged numbers. Josef said he'd alert us if anything happened."
"Either you trust him or you don't, excuse me for being blunt," Artie complained. "Remember he did save your life back there by skewering the strangler behind you."
"Actually, I am cutting him some slack. Bane turned those pale grey eyes on his longtime friend. "If I was completely suspicious of him, Artie, I would have disarmed him and taken him along for some questioning."
"Sheesh. All these years tippy toeing around the edges of the Midnight War has made me not trust anyone. Tell me, Mr Bane, who are these Blind Archers anyway? What's their deal?"
The Dire Wolf leaned back in the driver seat. Outside, not a house had been seen for a mile. There was only the dense forest lit by their headlights as they drove up the winding narrow road. "They are an ancient cult, mostly centered in Chujir. The Archers buy or abduct infants of various ethnic types so their assassins can move freely anywhere. They're not literally blind. When they go into action, each Archer covers his eyes with a scarf or blindfold and this brings out their nonsensory perception. Their arrows are accurate in complete darkness, in fog or heavy rain or smoke. Dangerous bunch."
From behind them, Sam made a whistle that somehow conveyed disaproval. "Everytime I think I know every bunch of crazy fanatics running around the Midnight War, I hear about about a new crowd! There's a dozen of 'em. And he asked about joining you, sir?"
"He wanted to ask if I was ready to gather a new team," the Dire Wolf continued, "Members would have to be accepted at Tel Shai first. That was why we had such success. After the Teachers cleared our members, we knew there were no moles or double agents to worry about. If Josef was approved by Cindy and Teacher Anulka with their telepathy, we'd be able to trust him."
Artie scoffed. "To be honest, I bet it's the Tel Shai membership he's most interested in. Training in Kumundu by the legendary Teacher Chael would refine his skills. And the real incentive is the Tagra tea diet. It's not available in its pure form anywhere else. Enhanced healing, longevity, resistance to poisons, all that and more. He might wanna be a KDF member only so he could get Tel Shai benefits."
"Well, we'll see. It's an understandable motive. Everyone seems to be urging me to start a new team."
He eased off the road onto a cleared area and turned off the engine. "Time to roust our guest and get some answers."
"Um, I got some bad news about that, boss," Sam told them in a low voice. "No pulse. No breathing. I sniffed his face and it sure smells like cyanide to me."
"He had a suicide capsule in his mouth?!" yelped Artie. "I didn't think bad guys really did that."
Bane swung around and sighed. "Only the ones afraid of either being tortured by their captors or the ones that are really terrified of their leaders. I've never heard of Night Gorillas doing it."
"Pockets completely empty," Sam reported. "Not even a chewing gum wrapper. These are cheap clothes, too. Slippers, socks, T-shirt and sweat pants, you could pick these up at any dollar store and no one would notice."
"Tattos on the wrist or back of the neck?" Bane asked.
After a second of examination with a pencil flashlight from his keychain, Sam Simek grumbled, "Nope. The only noticeable thing about this stiff is that his arms are as thick as my legs. His hands are big enough that he could palm a bowling ball and walk off with it."
Opening his door, the Dire Wolf dropped lightly onto the grass and circled around to the rear compartment. "Now we have two bodies on our hands and no new information." He reached back to a canvas bundle and drew out a folding shovel. "This is going to be work, boys."
While Sam and Artie wrestled the big limp body of one Danarakan out of the compartment, Bane simply grabbed the other corpse by the collar and hauled it out to drag it behind him as if pulling a half-empty laundry bag. The Dire Wolf looked gaunt, almost starved, but he was stronger than most body-builders. It was his Kumundu training.
Deep in the woods, in a small space between two ancient oak trees, Bane began digging at a rapid pace he kept up for two hours without seeming to tire. They positioned the dead bodies down into the pit, packed the earth back down tightly and began covering the dirt with branches and bundles of leaves from a wide area. The Dire Wolf took time to replant several small bushes over the spot.
"Hopefully, they'll grow there," he said and added with absolutely no humor in his voice, "Cadavers are good fertilizer."
"You know, boss, it occurs to me that if somehow the cops or FBI somehow found these guys, they'd have a hell of a time trying to get an ID. No one knows they're in the country, right?"
Cleaning off his shovel carefully with handful of leaves, Bane nodded. "The Mulongi were smuggled here. Their fingerprints are not on file anywhere, neither would their DNA be. No dental records. No photos with Motor Vehicles. They would be two unsolved cases that mystery fans would discuss for a few years."
"It's getting near dawn. Let's head back to the motel so you guys can catch some sleep." The Dire Wolf started striding back through the woods, with his two friends beside him. "So right there, we're liable for not reporting a suicide and a death by violence with the hole from an arrowhead still fresh in the chest. Then there's improper handling of a human corpse, unauthorized burial on State property..."
"Hah ha, we love committing felonies with you, boss," laughed Artie. "Don't we, Sam?"
"You bet. Sure beats taking on another boring divorce case."
III.
At just after one in the afternoon, Josef Jubilec swung his cherry-red MG off the road near the address he had unearthed. The top was down in his car on this warm day, and in the space behind the driver's seat was a Y-shaped quiver and an unstrung longbow where he could easily reach them. The Blind Archer was dressed in a way that suggested professionalism, dark slacks and suit jacket over a light brown dress shirt with the collar open. He lowered his sunglasses to take in the scene.
The house had its walls remaining the natural wood color, with an enclosed deck overlooking an aboveground swimming pool. The lawn was well kept. Parked on a gravel circle was a shiny new Nissan Sentra. As Josef vaulted out of his sports car and headed toward the house, the front door swung open.
Standing there was a stocky man well above average height with a round moonface under curly reddish hair. In one hand he held a newspaper in disarray. His jeans, plain white T-shirt and white socks without shoes showed he had not planned on visitors.
Coming up behind the man was a rather attractive woman about thirty, with long wavy black hair and a heart-shaped face. She was wearing a thin print dress and was barefoot. "I wasn't expecting anyone, honey, were you?"
As he reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the deck, Josef opened his leather document case and held it toward them. "Excuse the intrusion," he said with his vaguely half-Chinese accent. "I'm concerned about the lady's father George Selkirk." Seeing that neither showed any sign of giving his credentials more than a cursory glance, Josef returned the case to his hip pocket.
"What about my father? Is he all right?"
"I'll be blunt," Josef said. "He's in grave danger. His school, the Dragon Within, has alarmed some dangerous people who mean him harm."
The man swung over protectively in front of her. "What? What are you talking about? Just who ARE you, buddy?"
"I'm a bodyguard," the Blind Archer replied. "A counter-assassin. Usually my clients are millionaires concerned about their children being kidnaped for ransom. George Selkirk is quite another matter."
"I think you're way off base, mister. First, we can't afford a bodyguard. If I thought Beth's dad was in any danger, I'd sleep on his couch with my double-barrel."
Josef remained subdued, almost detached. His lack of apparent emotion came from his weird upbringing where the Blind Archers had taught him not to give his reactions away. Sometimes it worked against him as his poker face was taken to be disinterest. "Has he mentioned any suspicious characters in the area? Trespassers in his yard? Noises late at night?"
"Yes! All of that!" interrupted Beth Selkirk. "Les, it's true. You're heard him talk about these things. He thinks it's would-be students trying to work up enough nerve to apply for his lessons. I don't think so. I think there's something ominous going on."
"I'm offering my services free of charge," Josef said. "If the intruders are who I suspect, there's bad blood between us. I don't want them at large. Will you two come with me to speak with Mr Selkirk?"
Les made a rumbling noise and held up one angry clenched hand. "Aw, I have to go to work in an hour. We're swamped. I can't miss it."
"I'll go with Mr Jubilec," Beth offered. "Let me put on some shoes and grab my handbag." She swung around and vanished back into the house.
"I'm not letting my wife ride away with a complete stranger...!"
Josef extended his document case again. "Please take a second to look at these. I'm a bonded private investigator. There's my card from the State District Attorney that gives me access to crime and fire scenes. You can call my office in Albany for verification." All of Josef's IDs were in fact expensive fakes that would fool even the most suspicious police officers. He lived off the official records.
"Well...I suppose...," the husband grumbled. "You don't expect any trouble right today, do you?"
"No. These groups always do their dirty work at night. They like darkness and quiet. Aren't there students at the studio during the day?"
"Hell, yeah," Les laughed. "Always a half dozen there all day, others coming and going constantly. They've started bringing offerings of food like thick sandwiches and fresh fruit that her daddy ends up letting them eat themselves."
"The students being present is a good defense," Josef said. "All of them will be carrying phones which take photos and videos. Not to mention they can call 911, the police station is half a mile away."
Beth rushed back out with a heavy denim handbag slung over one shoulder, talking into her phone. "Okay, dad, five minutes tops. See ya." She flipped the phone shut and thrust it into her bag. "I told him we're on the way, and I gave him a description of Mr Jubilec and his car, including license plate UYY-1393."
With old-fashioned courtesy, Josef held the passenger door for his guest, then crossed over to slide behind the seat himself. As she was tying the rather long hair up into a bun, Beth gave her a husband a cheerful thumb's up. As they pulled out onto the road in a U-turn back toward town, she slumped as if suddenly weary beyond pretense.
"I'm right to be concerned, aren't I? Dad's in danger."
"Yes," Josef answered bluntly. "I've seen two of the enemy already. They're out of the game but there will be others."
"It's because of what he's teaching, I know it is," she said, holding her hair down from the wind as the convertible sped along. "When he retired from teaching at the community college, he started trying Tai Chi and then Hatha Yoga and then God knows what else. Before I knew it, he had started this 'Dragon Within' stuff! Not that he makes any promises, all he offers is the possibility that his students will develop, well, super-powers. Like in those stupid comic books."
At a stop as they neared the village, Josef turned to regard her for a second. "Level with me, Ma'am. A few of the students HAVE shown unusual abilities or the dark forces would not be interested in your father, am I right?"
"Okay, yes. But such... pathetic little abilities. One kid can hold his breath for six minutes. Another one can change his eyes from brown to blue and back again. I swear, there's a girl that is proud she can make her hair stand up like a sunburst. All so useless!"
The Blind Archer nodded. "You were expecting them to be able to walk through walls or shoot lightning from their hands, right?"
"Or at least something that would be worthwhile. Dad swears up and down this is only the beginning and his students will be astounding the world before too long. Turn right up there, Deming Street. Dad's house is behind the Sled Hill Cafe."
The Cafe was closed at this hour, its parking lot empty. Beyond was a nicely trimmed lawn with a garden made of round rocks encircling magnolias. A tiny pine-log house, which could not have held more than five rooms stood at the far edge of the yard, with a dozen assorted specimens of humanity lined up in a loose semi-circle before their guru.
As Josef and Beth climbed out of the two seater, they could hear the soothing, mellow voice of George Selkirk working its spell. "No effort. No trying. Don't strain. Let go, let the transcendental force swirl around you, penetrate you, infuse you with new life." Seeing his visitors, he raised a finger to his lips for silence. Picking up a stiff piece of carboard eight by ten inches, he walked silently over to one of the younger students. This was a thin young teen, still in high school judging by his gangling limbs and uncertain complexion. He was sitting in a full lotus position, palms resting on his knees.
Crouching down, Selkirk slid the cardboard back and forth easily underneath the student, then drew it back and gave it a shove so that it passed entirely under him by itself. The student was hovering a fraction of an inch above the grass. The old teacher grinned in sheer delight. Josef and Beth exchanged impressed expressions with eyebrows raised.
Selkirk clapped his hands twice. "All right, my friends. Back to the mundane world. We're taking a break. Until, say, two-thirty, I want you all to wander around town. Windowshop. Fool around with a used guitar or check out rock posters from before you were born. We will start again in one hour."
As the students reluctantly scattered and began to trudge up toward Main Street, Beth tugged Josef forward by one arm. "Dad, I brought you someone who's an expert in security."
After the Blind Archer introduced himself again as a bodyguard and counter-assassin, he fixed an unsympathetic eye on Selkirk. "I suspect you are on the verge of unlocking dangerous forces, sir."
"Of course! That's the idea, you know. We are unchaining the Dragon Within that coils in us all." Selkirk's usual smug smile faltered. "I seem to see anger on your face, just beneath the surface. Skepticism. Hardness. If you have come to scoff, sir..."
"Not at all," Josef replied. "I have seen men unleash destructive forces from their minds which could level this town. Whether you fully realize it, Mr Selkirk, you are beginning to tap the universal force, gralir. You are lighting matches in a cellar filled with powderkegs."
The old man's face turned red and he stepped back. "Oh, I see! The same old oppression. Whenever people find a way to set themselves free, to break the chains our society piles on them, the establishment stomps down with a heavy jackboot. I don't see where we have anything to discuss, sir. Good day."
"Mr Selkirk, whether you know it or not, you are drawing unwelcome attention from hostile societies...."
"I said, good day, sir!" Shoulders raised up to his ears, the infuriated elder spun and stomped into his house. The door slammed behind him hard enough to make a tourist down the road glance over curiously.
Josef Jubilec turned to Beth. "That did not go well."
"Oh, he'll get over it," she reassured him. "Dad blows up like that and once he thinks it over, he apologizes and then he's ready to listen. I'll come back around suppertime. He'll be more reasonable then."
"My diplomacy could use some work," the Blind Archer admitted as he walked her back to his car.
IV.
With his hyper metabolism, Jeremy Bane functioned well on four hours sleep out of twenty-four, usually right after dawn. The two cousins had long ago become used to working in shifts with one active while the other snored but they also grabbed sleep whenever it became available. By nine o'clock, all three men were showered and dressed, sitting around the room at the Sunny Spot Motel.
Room service did not deliver, but a kitchen by the lobby supplied food. Bane had brought back a paper bag stuffed with plates covered by aluminum foil. They settled down to work their way through steaming hot piles of scrambled eggs and bacon, buttered wheat toast and two paper cups of black coffee. Bane only drank ice water but he ate as much as the two detectives.
"What's the agenda, boss?"
Bane looked the two men over. They had been through so much over the years. When he had first started in the Midnight War, Kenneth Dred had asked Artie and Sam to teach a young Dire Wolf the basics of following a suspect, of asking questions without giving away what was already known, what his rights actually where when he encountered police in a shady situation. Ever since, a grateful Bane had hired the cousins whenever he thought they could be useful.
Suddenly, they had begun to look old to him. Old and vulnerable. He was growing reluctant to expose them so much to the deadly threats he faced. Soon, he realized, he would limit using them to safe easy jobs, whether they liked it or not.
"Today you guys will be sightseeing on the expense account," he told them. "Spend the whole day wandering in and out of stores, eat whatever you want, buy a new shirt or a book or whatever. We'll meet back here at sunset."
"And we'll be keeping our eyes open, of course," said Sam.
"That's what I'm counting on you for," Bane replied. "Listen for fragments of conversation, watch for new rental cars from out of state, stay alert for anything suspicious. Woodstock is a big tourist trap. Most days, a busload of people from Manhattan gets dropped off for the day, so you're likely to see obviously foreign people in clothing that stands out. I trust you guys to use good judgement in who you shadow."
"Will we see you roaming around too?" asked Artie, nibbling the last crust of toast, cold and dry by now.
"No. I want to check with some of my observers in Kingston and Saugerties. It's good to visit them in person if I can, they may have seen oddities that they didn't think worth reporting." He pushed back his chair and shrugged into the black jacket. "I don't know why, but the lower Hudson Valley seems to be a magnet for Midnight War activity. One of my first jobs for Mr Dred was to nail a pair of howlers right here in this town. Garrison Nebel lives ten miles away in uptown Kingston. Lots of haunted spots and monster sightings in the Catskills, too."
"Hey, can we see where the music festival was?" asked Artie.
Sam clucked in exasperation at his younger cousin. "Nah. The '69 thing? That was in Bethel, New York. I dunno why it was called Woodstock, maybe it just looks better on decals and posters."
V.
The agony which coursed through his body was intense enough that Bane could not focus his thoughts at first. It felt like burning gasoline was rushing through his veins. Trying to focus, he realized he was lying face down on a hard wooden floor. Even through the pain and confusion, his mind immediately began sorting things out. Where was he? What was going on?
The Dire Wolf had felt this pain and weakness before. Poison, and not just any poison. With his enhanced healing from the Tagra regimen, his body could only be affected by the most potent venoms. He had been bitten by a Snake man before and he recognized the symptoms. A normal adult Human would have died within a few seconds of such a bite. Bane's healing factor was already working, and within a few more minutes he thought he would recover enough to fight back. But he strongly doubted he would be given those minutes.
Right now he needed to clear his head. Bane concentrated on his breathing, taking in deep slow breaths and drawing in as much oxygen as possible. Forget the pain. Push the pain far away, shove it back where it could be ignored. The Dire Wolf opened his eyes, only to have them drop closed again, but a moment later he managed to keep them open a squint.
He was back in the rustic living room of Selkirk's house. Several lights were on and a ceiling fan turned slowly. As Bane regained his awareness, someone walked past him, a polished dress shoe brushing against him. All the Dire Wolf's instincts kept him from reacting. So far, he had not groaned or moved his head, only cracked open his eyes to the barest slits. If this was a Snake man and Bane gave his revival away, a second bite would kill him for sure. The Dire Wolf slowed his breathing with a Tel Shai technique and sharpened his hearing. There were two living beings in that room. Yes. There was the slightly strained breathing with a touch of a wheeze that belonged to a man in his late seventies. That would be Selkirk. The other one sounded strong, steady, alert...but slower than Human. A Snake man, all right.
Under optimal conditions, at close range Bane could usually hear a person's heartbeat. But he was not at his best right now. He breathed deeply again, his hearing dropped to normal acuteness and noise resolved itself into voices.
It was George Selkirk, speaking with outrage and anger raising his tones. "And he was right," the old man yelled. "You ARE an assassin. My God, Robert, how could you? I trusted you. I thought you were my most promising student."
"There is no 'Robert,'" answered a silky smooth voice. Snake men were too subtle to allow any hissing or noticeable sibilance in their speech. "My name is Mishula Shar. I am an Amrath, bred for centuries for extra venom and steady hands when executing mammals. Lesser kinsmen will be here within a few minutes to remove this carcass."
"Are you insane? Are you hallucinating?" demanded Selkirk.
That's it, Bane thought encouragingly as he stealthily brought up his right arm under his body. Keep that monster talking for a few more minutes. Already, the Dire Wolf felt the unpleasant stinging as sensation returned to his arms and legs. Pain means you are alive, his Teacher Chael had told him. In two or three minutes, maybe less, Bane thought he would be capable to leaping to his feet. He could feel the silver-bladed daggers were still sheathed under his sleeves, ready to be drawn. This Snake man was in for a rude enlightening.
"You must realize the very fact I am telling you any of this means you will not leave this room alive," the Amrath said. "Still, I am so pleased at my accomplishment. I will rise two ranks in our hierarchy for killing the greatest enemy of our kind. That body lying there was the Dire Wolf himself, Jeremy Bane, heir of the Kenneth Dred."
"Look, look, it's not as if I'm not terrified out of my mind by you because I am! You have rattlesnake fangs! You bit this man and killed him and now you're saying things that don't make any sense." The old man kept stealing glances at the door that opened to the outside but that monster had placed himself exactly in the way.
Smiling with his mouth while his eyes remained cold and hostile produced a remarkably sinister expression. "That man was a knight of Tel Shai. He and his team of warriors slew thousands of my kin, they broke up an Empire that ruled the world in secret for thirty thousand years. We few who survive are scattered today, we are furtive little wretched creatures who survive by hiring as mercenaries to the very Humans we once manipulated."
Selkirk remembered now that on top of his bookcase along the opposite wall was a long bronze letter opener that had a sharp edge. He realized realistically he could not put up much of a fight with his arthritis, but at least it would make him feel he had done something to resist. The old professor took a step toward the bookcase, then raised both hands in what he hoped was a distracting move. "You mean this Bane fellow is a government spy? Or a police detective?"
"No, you idiot!" Shar almost screamed. "You Humans know nothing of the Midnight War which rages all around you. I am a Snake man. An Amrath, the elite of my Race. You are older than your historians dare dream. For ages we have moved among you, manipulating your governments and your churches, playing you like puppets for our benefit."
"I don't understand," Selkirk insisted. "Are you literally claiming to be non-Human or am I misunderstanding you?"
As the Amrath sputtered in rage, unnoticed on the floor Jeremy Bane shifted his weight and got his legs positioned to be ready for a sudden attack. The Dire Wolf figured that Selkirk was merely stalling for time out of desperation but it was exactly the right thing for the old man to do. Bane's head had cleared. He felt almost normal again. In a few seconds, the Snake man would get a surprise.
"Beyond your wildest conspiracy theories, we exist," Shar went on. "Wars fought for no discernible reason, economic crashes, famines, mass manias... all our doing. We laugh as you suffer, do you hear me, we laugh!"
"You're sick in the head," Selkirk retorted. "I bet you paid a dentist to make those fangs. "
The door closed, not slamming but decisively and two pairs of foosteps entered the room. "Oh great Shar, we came as you summoned us. Is this the Humam who awakens gralic abilities?"
"It is," the Amrath replied. "He stirs the Dragon Within. But never mind him now. See here, do you recognize the grey eyes of this warm-blooded one?"
VI.
Bane knew he could not wait any longer. The newcomers would come over to examine him. He had to strike while he still had some element of surprise. Smoothly as if he had rehearsed nothing else all his life, the Dire Wolf heaved up off the floor, whipping his arms out with a silver dagger in each hand, wheeling to pounce on the three monsters before even their sharp reflexes could react.
But in that tiny fraction of a second while he was in motion, Bane was swept off his feet by what felt like the shock wave of silent explosion. He glimpsed the small, spare figure of a white haired old man holding out an empty palm as the air wavered visibly around it.
Two of the Snake men were flung across the room to crash against the far wall with a murderous impact that knocked pictures down off their hooks. The sound of bones cracking was clearly audible. The Snake men bent forward with their heads hands loosely on broken necks and both slid down to the floor.
Rolling over and leaping to his feet again, daggers still in his hands, Jeremy Bane stared at Selkirk. The fine white hair was being ruffled by an unseen force, his clothing rustled around him. On that narrow foxlike face, a serene smile had formed.
Mishula Shar stood where he was, unable to process what had just happened. His canine teeth had extended down from his upper jaw and clear venom glistened on them, but for a full three seconds he was vulnerable.
Before Bane could attack, George Selkirk swung a thin arm in an outward sweeping gesture. Some unseen force flung the Amrath back against the same wall where his fellows had been destroyed. The wood paneling cracked open from the reptile body smashing against it, revealing plasterboard underneath. Mishula Shar sagged forward and dropped to the floor without trying to break his fall. His face hit the bare wood and bounced once as his corpse sprawled where it had landed.
Slowly returning his silver blades to their sheaths on his forearms, Bane thought he understood. "The Dragon Within...! You've developed it in yourself."
"Why, so it seems," Selkirk admitted. "I had no idea that was going to happen. Are they dead? They certainly look dead."
Prodding the cadavers with the toe of his boot while remaining ready to jump back out of reach, staying as wary as if kicking at a real rattlesnake he suspected of still being alive, Bane satisfied himself. "Yes. Absolutely dead. They were going to murder both of us, Professor Selkirk. I hope you don't feel guilt about what you did. It was self-defense."
"I think I believe what that one said, that he wasn't Human but something called a Snake man. These were monsters. My only feeling is relief they're no threat to us anymore."
The Dire Wolf pulled a chair over and lowered himself down into it. "My legs are still a little rubbery. I guess I didn't bounce back from that bite as quick as usual. Professor, I have two assistants in the area. We'll dispose of these bodies right away. The police don't need to be notified. If I were you, I would never even hint about what happened just now."
"Sounds like good advice," the old man said. "Before that creature attacked you, Mr Bane, you had started to tell me that different groups of assassins were in the area. That you had fought a few of them. You warned me I needed your protection."
One of Bane's rare short laughs escaped his lips. "Heh! After what I saw you do, Professor, I don't know if you're the one who needs protection."
8/6/2020
6/27-6/28/1996
I.
The whisper of a bare foot moving over grass, the intake of hissed breath between teeth, the rubbing of cotton at a fold in clothing... any one of these would have been enough to jolt Bane into heightened awareness. Deming Street had only one street light, and that was fifty feet away, over the stop sign where Lark Street intersected perpendicularly. Otherwise, there was only a sliver of crescent moon and the stars in the summer night sky to provide illumination. Behind a cluster of elm trees, nearly invisible in his all-black outfit, the Dire Wolf pinpointed where someone was approaching.
On the opposite side of the narrow back street was a strip of grass and then forest. Bane watched as a hulking dark form seperated itself from the shadows of the woods and moved out onto the road. They were one block from Selkirk's quiet house. The Dire Wolf stole silently through the gloom on an interception path. He knew from the furtive way the stranger moved that this was no innocent civilian returning home from a neighborhood bar or out for some fresh air on a sleepless night. No, this was a hunter of men on a mission. No cars had gone by on this short back road for over an hour. They were unlikely to be disturbed.
Now, as Bane rushed toward the stalker, that dark figure froze into position. It swung around a second too late. The Dire Wolf lunged forward, spinning on one heel and driving a stiffened leg deep into the pit of the assasssin's stomach. All the air was forced out of the man's lungs with a whoosh, and he fell back to land hard in a seated position in the middle of the road.
"Stay down," Bane said barely above a whisper. He could see now that this was a big muscular black man, bare from the waist up, quite imposing. "I have a few questions."
"You can ask me when we meet again," spat the killer, "In Hell!" As he spoke, he heaved up to his feet and plunged forward with both open hands ready to clutch. He ran directly into a straight jab that snapped his head back and derailed his attack. A split-second later a fierce left cross spun him halfway around to send him crumbling to the cold road surface.
"When you get to Hell, don't wait up for me," Bane replied. From what he could see in the murk, this man looked like a typical Danarakan with the rich dark skin, distinctive hooked nostrils and prominent cheekbones. Chest and abdomen seemed fit enough, but the arms were overdeveloped to the point of being grotesque... thick columns of bone and muscle, ending in oversize hands.
A Mulongi strangler. One of the Night Gorillas.
The dazed man mumbled a few indechipherable words, one of which sounded very much like 'Kamende.' That got Bane's attention. If Arem Kamende was behind recruiting all these murder societies... The Dire Wolf dropped to one knee beside the groggy African. "What about Kamende? Did he send you here?"
Before the strangler could answer, something whizzed over Bane's head closely enough to ruffle his hair. There was a thump of impact behind him, a gasp and then the dull thud of a body falling. But the Dire Wolf had already sprung twelve feet to the side, rolled and come up behind a bush with his Smith & Wesson extended at full arm's length. He had reacted so quickly that he was concealed and ready to fire before the body behind him hit the ground.
"Steady there," warned a calm man's voice with a faint accent. "Mr Bane, isn't it? You should realize you were about to be bludgeoned over the head by the other Mulongi. My arrow saved you that experience."
The newcomer was a tall, lanky man with pale skin and short blondish hair as shown in the moonlight. He was wearing simple dark clothing and had a Y-shaped leather quiver across his back. In his left hand was a classic longbow. With his other hand, the bowman tugged off a silk headband which had been covering his eyes during the shot.
"A Blind Archer?" said Bane. "Hold very still, buddy, I've heard about you guys. My friend Chen Wong-Lai is dead because of your sect."
Deliberately, the Blind Archer unstrung his bow and placed it on the road in front of him. "You can surely see I am no threat to you now. Listen. My name is Josef Jubilec, and I have been looking for you. As far as I know, I am the first to ever leave the Blind Archers and live."
"Yeah? Tell me more." Still keeping his long-barreled .38 aimed squarely at the man's center mass, the Dire Wolf straightened up and stepped back onto the road. "If you defected, the Archers must have sent their best to make sure you never got to tell anyone about it."
"The Grandmaster did indeed some five of their senior bowmen after me. But they could not send their very best, of course." Jubilec jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "Because that would be me."
"Interesting." Bane had moved to where he could snap a quick glance at the two Night Gorillas. The one he had slugged was stirring, getting ready to revive. Twenty feet further back, a second strangler was lying in the road with a shaft sticking up from the center of his chest. "What is it you want with me, anyway?"
Jubilec lowered his hands from where he had been holding them up near his shoulders. "It's going to be difficult enough to survive in the real world with no contacts. No connections. All I have is some cash and a few IDs I took from the Archers who pursued me. But everyone in the Midnight War has heard of you, the heroic Dire Wolf. And of your team of Tel Shai knights, the Kenneth Dred Foundation."
Decades of training in reading body language and vocal inflection was prompting Bane to trust this man to some extent. He did not put his gun away, but he did lower it to point at a spot exactly halfway between them. "You're out of luck then. I disbanded the KDF years ago. I don't have a team of Tel Shai knights to lead anymore."
The faintest smile appeared on the bowman's narrow face. "Isn't it time, then, that you started a new one?"
II.
Twenty minutes later, Bane and Artie were riding in the dark green van up the steep side of Overlook Mountain. In the rear compartment, the dead Night Gorilla was covered with a thin blanket. The other one snored with a rasping edge to the noise. His wrists and ankles were secured with wire and he had also been fastened to a hole in the inner wheel well to make sure any sudden turns or stops didn't move him around much.
Turned around in the passenger seat, Artie Rosen regarded the sleeping prisoner suspiciously. "I don't see how he's going to be answering any questions in that condition, Mr Bane."
"There's an antidote to the anesthetic we use," Bane replied. "It's harsh. He's not going to be feeling his best for a few days. But I don't feel much sympathy for a Mulongi... they volunteer to be stranglers and their initiation demands kills a family member."
From the wide seat behind the driver's compartment, Sam leaned forward. "Where's that Archer guy now?"
"He stayed to keep an eye on Selkirk's place for the moment. We exchanged numbers. Josef said he'd alert us if anything happened."
"Either you trust him or you don't, excuse me for being blunt," Artie complained. "Remember he did save your life back there by skewering the strangler behind you."
"Actually, I am cutting him some slack. Bane turned those pale grey eyes on his longtime friend. "If I was completely suspicious of him, Artie, I would have disarmed him and taken him along for some questioning."
"Sheesh. All these years tippy toeing around the edges of the Midnight War has made me not trust anyone. Tell me, Mr Bane, who are these Blind Archers anyway? What's their deal?"
The Dire Wolf leaned back in the driver seat. Outside, not a house had been seen for a mile. There was only the dense forest lit by their headlights as they drove up the winding narrow road. "They are an ancient cult, mostly centered in Chujir. The Archers buy or abduct infants of various ethnic types so their assassins can move freely anywhere. They're not literally blind. When they go into action, each Archer covers his eyes with a scarf or blindfold and this brings out their nonsensory perception. Their arrows are accurate in complete darkness, in fog or heavy rain or smoke. Dangerous bunch."
From behind them, Sam made a whistle that somehow conveyed disaproval. "Everytime I think I know every bunch of crazy fanatics running around the Midnight War, I hear about about a new crowd! There's a dozen of 'em. And he asked about joining you, sir?"
"He wanted to ask if I was ready to gather a new team," the Dire Wolf continued, "Members would have to be accepted at Tel Shai first. That was why we had such success. After the Teachers cleared our members, we knew there were no moles or double agents to worry about. If Josef was approved by Cindy and Teacher Anulka with their telepathy, we'd be able to trust him."
Artie scoffed. "To be honest, I bet it's the Tel Shai membership he's most interested in. Training in Kumundu by the legendary Teacher Chael would refine his skills. And the real incentive is the Tagra tea diet. It's not available in its pure form anywhere else. Enhanced healing, longevity, resistance to poisons, all that and more. He might wanna be a KDF member only so he could get Tel Shai benefits."
"Well, we'll see. It's an understandable motive. Everyone seems to be urging me to start a new team."
He eased off the road onto a cleared area and turned off the engine. "Time to roust our guest and get some answers."
"Um, I got some bad news about that, boss," Sam told them in a low voice. "No pulse. No breathing. I sniffed his face and it sure smells like cyanide to me."
"He had a suicide capsule in his mouth?!" yelped Artie. "I didn't think bad guys really did that."
Bane swung around and sighed. "Only the ones afraid of either being tortured by their captors or the ones that are really terrified of their leaders. I've never heard of Night Gorillas doing it."
"Pockets completely empty," Sam reported. "Not even a chewing gum wrapper. These are cheap clothes, too. Slippers, socks, T-shirt and sweat pants, you could pick these up at any dollar store and no one would notice."
"Tattos on the wrist or back of the neck?" Bane asked.
After a second of examination with a pencil flashlight from his keychain, Sam Simek grumbled, "Nope. The only noticeable thing about this stiff is that his arms are as thick as my legs. His hands are big enough that he could palm a bowling ball and walk off with it."
Opening his door, the Dire Wolf dropped lightly onto the grass and circled around to the rear compartment. "Now we have two bodies on our hands and no new information." He reached back to a canvas bundle and drew out a folding shovel. "This is going to be work, boys."
While Sam and Artie wrestled the big limp body of one Danarakan out of the compartment, Bane simply grabbed the other corpse by the collar and hauled it out to drag it behind him as if pulling a half-empty laundry bag. The Dire Wolf looked gaunt, almost starved, but he was stronger than most body-builders. It was his Kumundu training.
Deep in the woods, in a small space between two ancient oak trees, Bane began digging at a rapid pace he kept up for two hours without seeming to tire. They positioned the dead bodies down into the pit, packed the earth back down tightly and began covering the dirt with branches and bundles of leaves from a wide area. The Dire Wolf took time to replant several small bushes over the spot.
"Hopefully, they'll grow there," he said and added with absolutely no humor in his voice, "Cadavers are good fertilizer."
"You know, boss, it occurs to me that if somehow the cops or FBI somehow found these guys, they'd have a hell of a time trying to get an ID. No one knows they're in the country, right?"
Cleaning off his shovel carefully with handful of leaves, Bane nodded. "The Mulongi were smuggled here. Their fingerprints are not on file anywhere, neither would their DNA be. No dental records. No photos with Motor Vehicles. They would be two unsolved cases that mystery fans would discuss for a few years."
"It's getting near dawn. Let's head back to the motel so you guys can catch some sleep." The Dire Wolf started striding back through the woods, with his two friends beside him. "So right there, we're liable for not reporting a suicide and a death by violence with the hole from an arrowhead still fresh in the chest. Then there's improper handling of a human corpse, unauthorized burial on State property..."
"Hah ha, we love committing felonies with you, boss," laughed Artie. "Don't we, Sam?"
"You bet. Sure beats taking on another boring divorce case."
III.
At just after one in the afternoon, Josef Jubilec swung his cherry-red MG off the road near the address he had unearthed. The top was down in his car on this warm day, and in the space behind the driver's seat was a Y-shaped quiver and an unstrung longbow where he could easily reach them. The Blind Archer was dressed in a way that suggested professionalism, dark slacks and suit jacket over a light brown dress shirt with the collar open. He lowered his sunglasses to take in the scene.
The house had its walls remaining the natural wood color, with an enclosed deck overlooking an aboveground swimming pool. The lawn was well kept. Parked on a gravel circle was a shiny new Nissan Sentra. As Josef vaulted out of his sports car and headed toward the house, the front door swung open.
Standing there was a stocky man well above average height with a round moonface under curly reddish hair. In one hand he held a newspaper in disarray. His jeans, plain white T-shirt and white socks without shoes showed he had not planned on visitors.
Coming up behind the man was a rather attractive woman about thirty, with long wavy black hair and a heart-shaped face. She was wearing a thin print dress and was barefoot. "I wasn't expecting anyone, honey, were you?"
As he reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the deck, Josef opened his leather document case and held it toward them. "Excuse the intrusion," he said with his vaguely half-Chinese accent. "I'm concerned about the lady's father George Selkirk." Seeing that neither showed any sign of giving his credentials more than a cursory glance, Josef returned the case to his hip pocket.
"What about my father? Is he all right?"
"I'll be blunt," Josef said. "He's in grave danger. His school, the Dragon Within, has alarmed some dangerous people who mean him harm."
The man swung over protectively in front of her. "What? What are you talking about? Just who ARE you, buddy?"
"I'm a bodyguard," the Blind Archer replied. "A counter-assassin. Usually my clients are millionaires concerned about their children being kidnaped for ransom. George Selkirk is quite another matter."
"I think you're way off base, mister. First, we can't afford a bodyguard. If I thought Beth's dad was in any danger, I'd sleep on his couch with my double-barrel."
Josef remained subdued, almost detached. His lack of apparent emotion came from his weird upbringing where the Blind Archers had taught him not to give his reactions away. Sometimes it worked against him as his poker face was taken to be disinterest. "Has he mentioned any suspicious characters in the area? Trespassers in his yard? Noises late at night?"
"Yes! All of that!" interrupted Beth Selkirk. "Les, it's true. You're heard him talk about these things. He thinks it's would-be students trying to work up enough nerve to apply for his lessons. I don't think so. I think there's something ominous going on."
"I'm offering my services free of charge," Josef said. "If the intruders are who I suspect, there's bad blood between us. I don't want them at large. Will you two come with me to speak with Mr Selkirk?"
Les made a rumbling noise and held up one angry clenched hand. "Aw, I have to go to work in an hour. We're swamped. I can't miss it."
"I'll go with Mr Jubilec," Beth offered. "Let me put on some shoes and grab my handbag." She swung around and vanished back into the house.
"I'm not letting my wife ride away with a complete stranger...!"
Josef extended his document case again. "Please take a second to look at these. I'm a bonded private investigator. There's my card from the State District Attorney that gives me access to crime and fire scenes. You can call my office in Albany for verification." All of Josef's IDs were in fact expensive fakes that would fool even the most suspicious police officers. He lived off the official records.
"Well...I suppose...," the husband grumbled. "You don't expect any trouble right today, do you?"
"No. These groups always do their dirty work at night. They like darkness and quiet. Aren't there students at the studio during the day?"
"Hell, yeah," Les laughed. "Always a half dozen there all day, others coming and going constantly. They've started bringing offerings of food like thick sandwiches and fresh fruit that her daddy ends up letting them eat themselves."
"The students being present is a good defense," Josef said. "All of them will be carrying phones which take photos and videos. Not to mention they can call 911, the police station is half a mile away."
Beth rushed back out with a heavy denim handbag slung over one shoulder, talking into her phone. "Okay, dad, five minutes tops. See ya." She flipped the phone shut and thrust it into her bag. "I told him we're on the way, and I gave him a description of Mr Jubilec and his car, including license plate UYY-1393."
With old-fashioned courtesy, Josef held the passenger door for his guest, then crossed over to slide behind the seat himself. As she was tying the rather long hair up into a bun, Beth gave her a husband a cheerful thumb's up. As they pulled out onto the road in a U-turn back toward town, she slumped as if suddenly weary beyond pretense.
"I'm right to be concerned, aren't I? Dad's in danger."
"Yes," Josef answered bluntly. "I've seen two of the enemy already. They're out of the game but there will be others."
"It's because of what he's teaching, I know it is," she said, holding her hair down from the wind as the convertible sped along. "When he retired from teaching at the community college, he started trying Tai Chi and then Hatha Yoga and then God knows what else. Before I knew it, he had started this 'Dragon Within' stuff! Not that he makes any promises, all he offers is the possibility that his students will develop, well, super-powers. Like in those stupid comic books."
At a stop as they neared the village, Josef turned to regard her for a second. "Level with me, Ma'am. A few of the students HAVE shown unusual abilities or the dark forces would not be interested in your father, am I right?"
"Okay, yes. But such... pathetic little abilities. One kid can hold his breath for six minutes. Another one can change his eyes from brown to blue and back again. I swear, there's a girl that is proud she can make her hair stand up like a sunburst. All so useless!"
The Blind Archer nodded. "You were expecting them to be able to walk through walls or shoot lightning from their hands, right?"
"Or at least something that would be worthwhile. Dad swears up and down this is only the beginning and his students will be astounding the world before too long. Turn right up there, Deming Street. Dad's house is behind the Sled Hill Cafe."
The Cafe was closed at this hour, its parking lot empty. Beyond was a nicely trimmed lawn with a garden made of round rocks encircling magnolias. A tiny pine-log house, which could not have held more than five rooms stood at the far edge of the yard, with a dozen assorted specimens of humanity lined up in a loose semi-circle before their guru.
As Josef and Beth climbed out of the two seater, they could hear the soothing, mellow voice of George Selkirk working its spell. "No effort. No trying. Don't strain. Let go, let the transcendental force swirl around you, penetrate you, infuse you with new life." Seeing his visitors, he raised a finger to his lips for silence. Picking up a stiff piece of carboard eight by ten inches, he walked silently over to one of the younger students. This was a thin young teen, still in high school judging by his gangling limbs and uncertain complexion. He was sitting in a full lotus position, palms resting on his knees.
Crouching down, Selkirk slid the cardboard back and forth easily underneath the student, then drew it back and gave it a shove so that it passed entirely under him by itself. The student was hovering a fraction of an inch above the grass. The old teacher grinned in sheer delight. Josef and Beth exchanged impressed expressions with eyebrows raised.
Selkirk clapped his hands twice. "All right, my friends. Back to the mundane world. We're taking a break. Until, say, two-thirty, I want you all to wander around town. Windowshop. Fool around with a used guitar or check out rock posters from before you were born. We will start again in one hour."
As the students reluctantly scattered and began to trudge up toward Main Street, Beth tugged Josef forward by one arm. "Dad, I brought you someone who's an expert in security."
After the Blind Archer introduced himself again as a bodyguard and counter-assassin, he fixed an unsympathetic eye on Selkirk. "I suspect you are on the verge of unlocking dangerous forces, sir."
"Of course! That's the idea, you know. We are unchaining the Dragon Within that coils in us all." Selkirk's usual smug smile faltered. "I seem to see anger on your face, just beneath the surface. Skepticism. Hardness. If you have come to scoff, sir..."
"Not at all," Josef replied. "I have seen men unleash destructive forces from their minds which could level this town. Whether you fully realize it, Mr Selkirk, you are beginning to tap the universal force, gralir. You are lighting matches in a cellar filled with powderkegs."
The old man's face turned red and he stepped back. "Oh, I see! The same old oppression. Whenever people find a way to set themselves free, to break the chains our society piles on them, the establishment stomps down with a heavy jackboot. I don't see where we have anything to discuss, sir. Good day."
"Mr Selkirk, whether you know it or not, you are drawing unwelcome attention from hostile societies...."
"I said, good day, sir!" Shoulders raised up to his ears, the infuriated elder spun and stomped into his house. The door slammed behind him hard enough to make a tourist down the road glance over curiously.
Josef Jubilec turned to Beth. "That did not go well."
"Oh, he'll get over it," she reassured him. "Dad blows up like that and once he thinks it over, he apologizes and then he's ready to listen. I'll come back around suppertime. He'll be more reasonable then."
"My diplomacy could use some work," the Blind Archer admitted as he walked her back to his car.
IV.
With his hyper metabolism, Jeremy Bane functioned well on four hours sleep out of twenty-four, usually right after dawn. The two cousins had long ago become used to working in shifts with one active while the other snored but they also grabbed sleep whenever it became available. By nine o'clock, all three men were showered and dressed, sitting around the room at the Sunny Spot Motel.
Room service did not deliver, but a kitchen by the lobby supplied food. Bane had brought back a paper bag stuffed with plates covered by aluminum foil. They settled down to work their way through steaming hot piles of scrambled eggs and bacon, buttered wheat toast and two paper cups of black coffee. Bane only drank ice water but he ate as much as the two detectives.
"What's the agenda, boss?"
Bane looked the two men over. They had been through so much over the years. When he had first started in the Midnight War, Kenneth Dred had asked Artie and Sam to teach a young Dire Wolf the basics of following a suspect, of asking questions without giving away what was already known, what his rights actually where when he encountered police in a shady situation. Ever since, a grateful Bane had hired the cousins whenever he thought they could be useful.
Suddenly, they had begun to look old to him. Old and vulnerable. He was growing reluctant to expose them so much to the deadly threats he faced. Soon, he realized, he would limit using them to safe easy jobs, whether they liked it or not.
"Today you guys will be sightseeing on the expense account," he told them. "Spend the whole day wandering in and out of stores, eat whatever you want, buy a new shirt or a book or whatever. We'll meet back here at sunset."
"And we'll be keeping our eyes open, of course," said Sam.
"That's what I'm counting on you for," Bane replied. "Listen for fragments of conversation, watch for new rental cars from out of state, stay alert for anything suspicious. Woodstock is a big tourist trap. Most days, a busload of people from Manhattan gets dropped off for the day, so you're likely to see obviously foreign people in clothing that stands out. I trust you guys to use good judgement in who you shadow."
"Will we see you roaming around too?" asked Artie, nibbling the last crust of toast, cold and dry by now.
"No. I want to check with some of my observers in Kingston and Saugerties. It's good to visit them in person if I can, they may have seen oddities that they didn't think worth reporting." He pushed back his chair and shrugged into the black jacket. "I don't know why, but the lower Hudson Valley seems to be a magnet for Midnight War activity. One of my first jobs for Mr Dred was to nail a pair of howlers right here in this town. Garrison Nebel lives ten miles away in uptown Kingston. Lots of haunted spots and monster sightings in the Catskills, too."
"Hey, can we see where the music festival was?" asked Artie.
Sam clucked in exasperation at his younger cousin. "Nah. The '69 thing? That was in Bethel, New York. I dunno why it was called Woodstock, maybe it just looks better on decals and posters."
V.
The agony which coursed through his body was intense enough that Bane could not focus his thoughts at first. It felt like burning gasoline was rushing through his veins. Trying to focus, he realized he was lying face down on a hard wooden floor. Even through the pain and confusion, his mind immediately began sorting things out. Where was he? What was going on?
The Dire Wolf had felt this pain and weakness before. Poison, and not just any poison. With his enhanced healing from the Tagra regimen, his body could only be affected by the most potent venoms. He had been bitten by a Snake man before and he recognized the symptoms. A normal adult Human would have died within a few seconds of such a bite. Bane's healing factor was already working, and within a few more minutes he thought he would recover enough to fight back. But he strongly doubted he would be given those minutes.
Right now he needed to clear his head. Bane concentrated on his breathing, taking in deep slow breaths and drawing in as much oxygen as possible. Forget the pain. Push the pain far away, shove it back where it could be ignored. The Dire Wolf opened his eyes, only to have them drop closed again, but a moment later he managed to keep them open a squint.
He was back in the rustic living room of Selkirk's house. Several lights were on and a ceiling fan turned slowly. As Bane regained his awareness, someone walked past him, a polished dress shoe brushing against him. All the Dire Wolf's instincts kept him from reacting. So far, he had not groaned or moved his head, only cracked open his eyes to the barest slits. If this was a Snake man and Bane gave his revival away, a second bite would kill him for sure. The Dire Wolf slowed his breathing with a Tel Shai technique and sharpened his hearing. There were two living beings in that room. Yes. There was the slightly strained breathing with a touch of a wheeze that belonged to a man in his late seventies. That would be Selkirk. The other one sounded strong, steady, alert...but slower than Human. A Snake man, all right.
Under optimal conditions, at close range Bane could usually hear a person's heartbeat. But he was not at his best right now. He breathed deeply again, his hearing dropped to normal acuteness and noise resolved itself into voices.
It was George Selkirk, speaking with outrage and anger raising his tones. "And he was right," the old man yelled. "You ARE an assassin. My God, Robert, how could you? I trusted you. I thought you were my most promising student."
"There is no 'Robert,'" answered a silky smooth voice. Snake men were too subtle to allow any hissing or noticeable sibilance in their speech. "My name is Mishula Shar. I am an Amrath, bred for centuries for extra venom and steady hands when executing mammals. Lesser kinsmen will be here within a few minutes to remove this carcass."
"Are you insane? Are you hallucinating?" demanded Selkirk.
That's it, Bane thought encouragingly as he stealthily brought up his right arm under his body. Keep that monster talking for a few more minutes. Already, the Dire Wolf felt the unpleasant stinging as sensation returned to his arms and legs. Pain means you are alive, his Teacher Chael had told him. In two or three minutes, maybe less, Bane thought he would be capable to leaping to his feet. He could feel the silver-bladed daggers were still sheathed under his sleeves, ready to be drawn. This Snake man was in for a rude enlightening.
"You must realize the very fact I am telling you any of this means you will not leave this room alive," the Amrath said. "Still, I am so pleased at my accomplishment. I will rise two ranks in our hierarchy for killing the greatest enemy of our kind. That body lying there was the Dire Wolf himself, Jeremy Bane, heir of the Kenneth Dred."
"Look, look, it's not as if I'm not terrified out of my mind by you because I am! You have rattlesnake fangs! You bit this man and killed him and now you're saying things that don't make any sense." The old man kept stealing glances at the door that opened to the outside but that monster had placed himself exactly in the way.
Smiling with his mouth while his eyes remained cold and hostile produced a remarkably sinister expression. "That man was a knight of Tel Shai. He and his team of warriors slew thousands of my kin, they broke up an Empire that ruled the world in secret for thirty thousand years. We few who survive are scattered today, we are furtive little wretched creatures who survive by hiring as mercenaries to the very Humans we once manipulated."
Selkirk remembered now that on top of his bookcase along the opposite wall was a long bronze letter opener that had a sharp edge. He realized realistically he could not put up much of a fight with his arthritis, but at least it would make him feel he had done something to resist. The old professor took a step toward the bookcase, then raised both hands in what he hoped was a distracting move. "You mean this Bane fellow is a government spy? Or a police detective?"
"No, you idiot!" Shar almost screamed. "You Humans know nothing of the Midnight War which rages all around you. I am a Snake man. An Amrath, the elite of my Race. You are older than your historians dare dream. For ages we have moved among you, manipulating your governments and your churches, playing you like puppets for our benefit."
"I don't understand," Selkirk insisted. "Are you literally claiming to be non-Human or am I misunderstanding you?"
As the Amrath sputtered in rage, unnoticed on the floor Jeremy Bane shifted his weight and got his legs positioned to be ready for a sudden attack. The Dire Wolf figured that Selkirk was merely stalling for time out of desperation but it was exactly the right thing for the old man to do. Bane's head had cleared. He felt almost normal again. In a few seconds, the Snake man would get a surprise.
"Beyond your wildest conspiracy theories, we exist," Shar went on. "Wars fought for no discernible reason, economic crashes, famines, mass manias... all our doing. We laugh as you suffer, do you hear me, we laugh!"
"You're sick in the head," Selkirk retorted. "I bet you paid a dentist to make those fangs. "
The door closed, not slamming but decisively and two pairs of foosteps entered the room. "Oh great Shar, we came as you summoned us. Is this the Humam who awakens gralic abilities?"
"It is," the Amrath replied. "He stirs the Dragon Within. But never mind him now. See here, do you recognize the grey eyes of this warm-blooded one?"
VI.
Bane knew he could not wait any longer. The newcomers would come over to examine him. He had to strike while he still had some element of surprise. Smoothly as if he had rehearsed nothing else all his life, the Dire Wolf heaved up off the floor, whipping his arms out with a silver dagger in each hand, wheeling to pounce on the three monsters before even their sharp reflexes could react.
But in that tiny fraction of a second while he was in motion, Bane was swept off his feet by what felt like the shock wave of silent explosion. He glimpsed the small, spare figure of a white haired old man holding out an empty palm as the air wavered visibly around it.
Two of the Snake men were flung across the room to crash against the far wall with a murderous impact that knocked pictures down off their hooks. The sound of bones cracking was clearly audible. The Snake men bent forward with their heads hands loosely on broken necks and both slid down to the floor.
Rolling over and leaping to his feet again, daggers still in his hands, Jeremy Bane stared at Selkirk. The fine white hair was being ruffled by an unseen force, his clothing rustled around him. On that narrow foxlike face, a serene smile had formed.
Mishula Shar stood where he was, unable to process what had just happened. His canine teeth had extended down from his upper jaw and clear venom glistened on them, but for a full three seconds he was vulnerable.
Before Bane could attack, George Selkirk swung a thin arm in an outward sweeping gesture. Some unseen force flung the Amrath back against the same wall where his fellows had been destroyed. The wood paneling cracked open from the reptile body smashing against it, revealing plasterboard underneath. Mishula Shar sagged forward and dropped to the floor without trying to break his fall. His face hit the bare wood and bounced once as his corpse sprawled where it had landed.
Slowly returning his silver blades to their sheaths on his forearms, Bane thought he understood. "The Dragon Within...! You've developed it in yourself."
"Why, so it seems," Selkirk admitted. "I had no idea that was going to happen. Are they dead? They certainly look dead."
Prodding the cadavers with the toe of his boot while remaining ready to jump back out of reach, staying as wary as if kicking at a real rattlesnake he suspected of still being alive, Bane satisfied himself. "Yes. Absolutely dead. They were going to murder both of us, Professor Selkirk. I hope you don't feel guilt about what you did. It was self-defense."
"I think I believe what that one said, that he wasn't Human but something called a Snake man. These were monsters. My only feeling is relief they're no threat to us anymore."
The Dire Wolf pulled a chair over and lowered himself down into it. "My legs are still a little rubbery. I guess I didn't bounce back from that bite as quick as usual. Professor, I have two assistants in the area. We'll dispose of these bodies right away. The police don't need to be notified. If I were you, I would never even hint about what happened just now."
"Sounds like good advice," the old man said. "Before that creature attacked you, Mr Bane, you had started to tell me that different groups of assassins were in the area. That you had fought a few of them. You warned me I needed your protection."
One of Bane's rare short laughs escaped his lips. "Heh! After what I saw you do, Professor, I don't know if you're the one who needs protection."
8/6/2020
