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dochermes"Golgora"
1/21/1986
In the moonless overcast night, Jeremy Bane was almost invisible in his black suit. Within the visor of his helmet, though, light enhancers gave him a good enough view to step silently through the woods. Silent with the stealth of long years of training, he made his way past anything that might make a noise underfoot. There was little snow, just patches here and there. It was close to midnight and he felt the usual feral excitement. The Midnight Wars, the secret wars he fought in, raged most fiercely in the dark when the powers of evil peaked. This was also the hour he lived for. The Dire Wolf slowly circled the two story white frame house that stood at the end of a long driveway. A beige Honda Accord sat before the front door, and two lights burned on either side of the front door. In the house itself, only one window on the ground level was on.
Bane spotted the watcher from a distance and crept up on him, unseen and unheard. A big man, well over six feet tall and looking huge in his heavy winter coat. The watcher was pacing back and forth, keeping on eye on the front door but frequently pacing over to check out the back as well. Bane watched him for a second. He could take this man out easily enough, either with the anesthetic darts or with more direct action. But he didn't want that. If this goon was supposed to report at intervals, his silence would give away that someone had come here. Stepping back some distance, still moving with a silence that was eerie, the Dire Wolf stalked around to the other side of the house. He couldn't spot anyone watching this side and he crept in warily, then got up to a window, found it was unlocked and eased it up. With his light enchancers, he could see a bookcase under the window and he nimbly slid through and stepped over it onto the carpet. Bane reached back and closed the window. He was in a living room, with a couch and easy chairs and huge color TV. Light came in the open doorway from the kitchen to his right, and he could see a man sitting at a dining table with his head hanging down.
Still undetected, the Dire Wolf studied the man for a second. Dr Lewis Sorel was seventy-two years old, six feet tall, thin and just a little bent with age. He had shoulder-length white hair that gleamed in the light of the kitchen. As Bane watched, Sorel rubbed his face wearily and lowered his head to rest on his crossed arms. From just beyond the doorway, Bane went "Pssst" in a low voice.
The old man jolted and his eyes darted wildly about. He spotted the lean figure all in black standing just beyond the light and he understood perfectly. "You DID come. But... how... I don't understand?"
Bane said quietly, "I got your message. There's a man outside keeping a watch for anyone driving up but he didn't see me. I snuck in through the living room window. As far as the kidnapper knows, nobody has approached this house." He unlatched his helmet and raised it, revealing a narrow feral face with cold gray eyes under heavy brows. "I'm here to help, Dr Sorel."
"Thank God you've come. I don't think my phone is tapped but I was careful to just leave a hint on your answering machine. Kenneth Dred spoke so highly of you and I have heard amazing stories about you in the years since his death. I didn't dare go to the police!"
The Dire Wolf gestured for the old man to come closer and Sorel painfully got up and limped over, leaning on a carved wooden cane. "I don't want to be visible from those windows," Bane explained. "Listen. in your message, you referred to an old case I handled for Mr Dred when I first started working for him. A kidnapping. So I figure that's what going on now."
"Yes. It's my wife. They've taken Erin!" his voice cracked with sudden stress. "She's not a young woman, Mr Bane, she can't take the fear and anxiety of this. We have to get her back." He took a deep breath and continued, "The kidnapper has called twice. He wants a spell from a forbidden book that I translated. I've read the spell out loud and nothing happens. It's just mumbo-jumbo!"
Bane inclined his head dubiously. "It's not enough to just speak the words. It's the images in your mind as you speak, or so I'm told. Who is the kidnapper? Any clue?"
"He has a deep, hollow voice with a strange accent. Not like anything I've ever heard. Very cold, very mocking. At three o'clock this morning, he will be at the beach with Erin. He wants me to arrive in a taxi which then leaves so he knows I'm alone. Then he will return Erin to me in exchange for the paper with the spell on it."
"Or so he claims. That voice you describe... it sounds familiar. Did he use any odd phrases?"
"Why, yes. He said if the police showed up, that Erin and I would- what did he say? 'Solve the Great Mystery together.' "
The Dire Wolf scowled in the gloom. "Golgora. Him again. We're dealing with a dangerous career criminal, Dr Sorel. I've tangled with him four times already but I promise you... this will be the last time!" He put his helmet down on a deacon's bench in the hall. "Now you have to trust me. I have an idea. But I will ask you to make a slight personal sacrifice..."
II.
At ten minutes to three, a deserted beach on Long Island Sound was scoured by a freezing wind. Parked near the shore on the frozen sand was a black Lincoln with tinted windows. Headlights showed nearby, as a taxi came to a stop on the road that ran parallel to the beach and then sped off again. A tall thin figure in a long oilcloth coat gingerly made its way across the beach, leaning on a cane and pausing as if for breath. Under a battered fedora, long white hair showed. Seeing this, a gruesome figure stepped out from the right passenger seat of the car and waited with folded arms.
In the vague gloom of a winter night, the strange man had a nightmarish quality. He was wearing a dark jumpsuit, boots and gloves, with a Luger holstered at one hip and a long commando knife at the other. His face looked like a skull barely covered with taut skin. There was no hair, not even eyebrows, and the nose was a mere peg over a wide jagged grin. Even in the darkness, it was clear he was not wearing a mask. Golgora smiled in the murk and barely restrained a chuckle at the situation. "Come now, move a little more quickly," he teased in sepulchral tones. "Are you not eager to see your mate?"
"You devil from Hell," the white-haired figure blurted out. "Let me see Erin first! Let me know she is alive."
"First the page with the spell, Human fool."
"You're the fool if you think I brought something you could take off me by force. The information is in my head! I'll write it down after Erin is safe beside me."
Golgora chuckled unpleasantly. "Safe beside you...? Heh. Very well. Enrico! Bring the hag out!"
As they watched, a burly man in a down-filled coat and wool hat got out of the back seat of the Lincoln. He was holding tightly to the arm of an elderly woman who seemed furious beyond words. "Lewis! I'm all right!" she yelled. "They haven't hurt me."
"So far," added Golgora mockingly. "Both of you Humans are past the time when you should enjoy the Experience Which Comes Last. But never mind that now. There is your bride, Dr Sorel."
For a single second, the tableau held. Standing next to the car was the thug gripping the arm of the elderly woman. A few feet to one side was the Nekrosan terrorist with his skull face. And, just beyond arm's reach, a weary figure leaned on a cane and slowly straightened up. White light exploded from his hand and the thug convulsed as a bullet plowed a tunnel through his forehead. Erin Sorel shrieked and fell to her knees in shock.
As soon as that gun went off, unexpected as it was, Golgora reacted instantly. He dropped to one knee, whipping up his own pistol and letting off three shots as quickly as any gunfighter of the Old West. The bullets thumped home squarely in the old man's chest, flinging him back off his feet. Lunging in close, the skull-faced man kicked the gun away from his victim's grip, but was surprised a second later as the old man jumped back up again and blasted a backhand that spun him halfway around. As Golgora fell, the old man got the Luger away from him and threw it far behind them.
Now the skull-faced man understand. He rose to his feet and laughed. "Dire Wolf! Of course."
Bane tore off the hat with the roughly chopped white hair glued to its inner brim and tossed it aside. "The party's over, handsome."
"I was not hoping to have fun with you again so soon," Golgora said. He drew the six inch knife from his side and twirled it. "Shall we have one last dance, my old friend?"
The Dire wolf hesitated for the barest second, then flung the long coat away from him. "Mrs Sorel!" he called. "Get in the car and wait. This will be over in a few minutes!" From his sleeve, he slid out one of the daggers he always wore and its silver blade glimmered as if by its own light. The two men circled each other, feinting, testing each other. Then they leaped together and separated, and Golgora fell to his knees. The skull-faced man pressed his free hand to his chest.
Watching him, Bane said softly, "Knife fights never take too long. It's up to you how this plays out. If you surrender, I guess I'll patch you up and drive you and Mrs Sorel-" He stopped as the Nekrosan's arm swung backwards and the skull-faced man's knife hissed through the air at his throat. The Wolf smacked its aside with his own dagger, only a faint clink sounding. "That wasn't very smart," he continued as if nothing had happened. "Got any other weapons on you? Better try them now."
Golgora did not answer. He tried to get to his feet and barely managed. He took two unsteady steps. Under the overhanging brow ledge, his dark eyes glowered. Suddenly he wheeled about and dropped to his knees, coming up with Bane's revolver in his hand. In the instant before he could fire, silver glittered as the Dire Wolf's dagger smacked into his chest. The skull-faced man wheezed, air leaving his lungs as he died.
Lowering his arm from that throw, Bane slumped a little. No one would ever know but he had let Golgora reach the gun. He had wanted the Nekrosan to be raising the weapon so there would be some element of self-defense in killing him. Just deliberately executing someone was difficult for Bane. He regarded this was a weakness in himself, but there it was.
Warily, he approached the body and retrieved his dagger, cleaning its blade on the Nekrosan's clothing before sheathing it again. As he walked over to the car, Mrs Sorel asked in a clear strong voice, "Are you a policeman?"
"No, ma'am. I'm a specialist in handling things like this. I'm sorry you had to see that." He opened the car door and saw she was sitting huddled up in the back seat. "Everything's okay now. I'll take you home to your husband." He remembered the thug that Golgora had left posted outside the house and realize there might be just a little more violence before the night was over.
For an elderly woman, Mrs Sorel seemed to be taking the situation well in stride. "That horrible man. Who was he? What happened to his face?"
Bane did not tell her what Golgora had really been, that there was a Race of people who looked like that living in their own Realm. She didn't need to know anything about the Midnight War. "It doesn't really matter now. Are you okay? You've been through a lot tonight.
She made a scoffing noise. "Oh, I was in Poland when the Russians came in. Believe me, I've survived worse than this."
10/5/2013
1/21/1986
In the moonless overcast night, Jeremy Bane was almost invisible in his black suit. Within the visor of his helmet, though, light enhancers gave him a good enough view to step silently through the woods. Silent with the stealth of long years of training, he made his way past anything that might make a noise underfoot. There was little snow, just patches here and there. It was close to midnight and he felt the usual feral excitement. The Midnight Wars, the secret wars he fought in, raged most fiercely in the dark when the powers of evil peaked. This was also the hour he lived for. The Dire Wolf slowly circled the two story white frame house that stood at the end of a long driveway. A beige Honda Accord sat before the front door, and two lights burned on either side of the front door. In the house itself, only one window on the ground level was on.
Bane spotted the watcher from a distance and crept up on him, unseen and unheard. A big man, well over six feet tall and looking huge in his heavy winter coat. The watcher was pacing back and forth, keeping on eye on the front door but frequently pacing over to check out the back as well. Bane watched him for a second. He could take this man out easily enough, either with the anesthetic darts or with more direct action. But he didn't want that. If this goon was supposed to report at intervals, his silence would give away that someone had come here. Stepping back some distance, still moving with a silence that was eerie, the Dire Wolf stalked around to the other side of the house. He couldn't spot anyone watching this side and he crept in warily, then got up to a window, found it was unlocked and eased it up. With his light enchancers, he could see a bookcase under the window and he nimbly slid through and stepped over it onto the carpet. Bane reached back and closed the window. He was in a living room, with a couch and easy chairs and huge color TV. Light came in the open doorway from the kitchen to his right, and he could see a man sitting at a dining table with his head hanging down.
Still undetected, the Dire Wolf studied the man for a second. Dr Lewis Sorel was seventy-two years old, six feet tall, thin and just a little bent with age. He had shoulder-length white hair that gleamed in the light of the kitchen. As Bane watched, Sorel rubbed his face wearily and lowered his head to rest on his crossed arms. From just beyond the doorway, Bane went "Pssst" in a low voice.
The old man jolted and his eyes darted wildly about. He spotted the lean figure all in black standing just beyond the light and he understood perfectly. "You DID come. But... how... I don't understand?"
Bane said quietly, "I got your message. There's a man outside keeping a watch for anyone driving up but he didn't see me. I snuck in through the living room window. As far as the kidnapper knows, nobody has approached this house." He unlatched his helmet and raised it, revealing a narrow feral face with cold gray eyes under heavy brows. "I'm here to help, Dr Sorel."
"Thank God you've come. I don't think my phone is tapped but I was careful to just leave a hint on your answering machine. Kenneth Dred spoke so highly of you and I have heard amazing stories about you in the years since his death. I didn't dare go to the police!"
The Dire Wolf gestured for the old man to come closer and Sorel painfully got up and limped over, leaning on a carved wooden cane. "I don't want to be visible from those windows," Bane explained. "Listen. in your message, you referred to an old case I handled for Mr Dred when I first started working for him. A kidnapping. So I figure that's what going on now."
"Yes. It's my wife. They've taken Erin!" his voice cracked with sudden stress. "She's not a young woman, Mr Bane, she can't take the fear and anxiety of this. We have to get her back." He took a deep breath and continued, "The kidnapper has called twice. He wants a spell from a forbidden book that I translated. I've read the spell out loud and nothing happens. It's just mumbo-jumbo!"
Bane inclined his head dubiously. "It's not enough to just speak the words. It's the images in your mind as you speak, or so I'm told. Who is the kidnapper? Any clue?"
"He has a deep, hollow voice with a strange accent. Not like anything I've ever heard. Very cold, very mocking. At three o'clock this morning, he will be at the beach with Erin. He wants me to arrive in a taxi which then leaves so he knows I'm alone. Then he will return Erin to me in exchange for the paper with the spell on it."
"Or so he claims. That voice you describe... it sounds familiar. Did he use any odd phrases?"
"Why, yes. He said if the police showed up, that Erin and I would- what did he say? 'Solve the Great Mystery together.' "
The Dire Wolf scowled in the gloom. "Golgora. Him again. We're dealing with a dangerous career criminal, Dr Sorel. I've tangled with him four times already but I promise you... this will be the last time!" He put his helmet down on a deacon's bench in the hall. "Now you have to trust me. I have an idea. But I will ask you to make a slight personal sacrifice..."
II.
At ten minutes to three, a deserted beach on Long Island Sound was scoured by a freezing wind. Parked near the shore on the frozen sand was a black Lincoln with tinted windows. Headlights showed nearby, as a taxi came to a stop on the road that ran parallel to the beach and then sped off again. A tall thin figure in a long oilcloth coat gingerly made its way across the beach, leaning on a cane and pausing as if for breath. Under a battered fedora, long white hair showed. Seeing this, a gruesome figure stepped out from the right passenger seat of the car and waited with folded arms.
In the vague gloom of a winter night, the strange man had a nightmarish quality. He was wearing a dark jumpsuit, boots and gloves, with a Luger holstered at one hip and a long commando knife at the other. His face looked like a skull barely covered with taut skin. There was no hair, not even eyebrows, and the nose was a mere peg over a wide jagged grin. Even in the darkness, it was clear he was not wearing a mask. Golgora smiled in the murk and barely restrained a chuckle at the situation. "Come now, move a little more quickly," he teased in sepulchral tones. "Are you not eager to see your mate?"
"You devil from Hell," the white-haired figure blurted out. "Let me see Erin first! Let me know she is alive."
"First the page with the spell, Human fool."
"You're the fool if you think I brought something you could take off me by force. The information is in my head! I'll write it down after Erin is safe beside me."
Golgora chuckled unpleasantly. "Safe beside you...? Heh. Very well. Enrico! Bring the hag out!"
As they watched, a burly man in a down-filled coat and wool hat got out of the back seat of the Lincoln. He was holding tightly to the arm of an elderly woman who seemed furious beyond words. "Lewis! I'm all right!" she yelled. "They haven't hurt me."
"So far," added Golgora mockingly. "Both of you Humans are past the time when you should enjoy the Experience Which Comes Last. But never mind that now. There is your bride, Dr Sorel."
For a single second, the tableau held. Standing next to the car was the thug gripping the arm of the elderly woman. A few feet to one side was the Nekrosan terrorist with his skull face. And, just beyond arm's reach, a weary figure leaned on a cane and slowly straightened up. White light exploded from his hand and the thug convulsed as a bullet plowed a tunnel through his forehead. Erin Sorel shrieked and fell to her knees in shock.
As soon as that gun went off, unexpected as it was, Golgora reacted instantly. He dropped to one knee, whipping up his own pistol and letting off three shots as quickly as any gunfighter of the Old West. The bullets thumped home squarely in the old man's chest, flinging him back off his feet. Lunging in close, the skull-faced man kicked the gun away from his victim's grip, but was surprised a second later as the old man jumped back up again and blasted a backhand that spun him halfway around. As Golgora fell, the old man got the Luger away from him and threw it far behind them.
Now the skull-faced man understand. He rose to his feet and laughed. "Dire Wolf! Of course."
Bane tore off the hat with the roughly chopped white hair glued to its inner brim and tossed it aside. "The party's over, handsome."
"I was not hoping to have fun with you again so soon," Golgora said. He drew the six inch knife from his side and twirled it. "Shall we have one last dance, my old friend?"
The Dire wolf hesitated for the barest second, then flung the long coat away from him. "Mrs Sorel!" he called. "Get in the car and wait. This will be over in a few minutes!" From his sleeve, he slid out one of the daggers he always wore and its silver blade glimmered as if by its own light. The two men circled each other, feinting, testing each other. Then they leaped together and separated, and Golgora fell to his knees. The skull-faced man pressed his free hand to his chest.
Watching him, Bane said softly, "Knife fights never take too long. It's up to you how this plays out. If you surrender, I guess I'll patch you up and drive you and Mrs Sorel-" He stopped as the Nekrosan's arm swung backwards and the skull-faced man's knife hissed through the air at his throat. The Wolf smacked its aside with his own dagger, only a faint clink sounding. "That wasn't very smart," he continued as if nothing had happened. "Got any other weapons on you? Better try them now."
Golgora did not answer. He tried to get to his feet and barely managed. He took two unsteady steps. Under the overhanging brow ledge, his dark eyes glowered. Suddenly he wheeled about and dropped to his knees, coming up with Bane's revolver in his hand. In the instant before he could fire, silver glittered as the Dire Wolf's dagger smacked into his chest. The skull-faced man wheezed, air leaving his lungs as he died.
Lowering his arm from that throw, Bane slumped a little. No one would ever know but he had let Golgora reach the gun. He had wanted the Nekrosan to be raising the weapon so there would be some element of self-defense in killing him. Just deliberately executing someone was difficult for Bane. He regarded this was a weakness in himself, but there it was.
Warily, he approached the body and retrieved his dagger, cleaning its blade on the Nekrosan's clothing before sheathing it again. As he walked over to the car, Mrs Sorel asked in a clear strong voice, "Are you a policeman?"
"No, ma'am. I'm a specialist in handling things like this. I'm sorry you had to see that." He opened the car door and saw she was sitting huddled up in the back seat. "Everything's okay now. I'll take you home to your husband." He remembered the thug that Golgora had left posted outside the house and realize there might be just a little more violence before the night was over.
For an elderly woman, Mrs Sorel seemed to be taking the situation well in stride. "That horrible man. Who was he? What happened to his face?"
Bane did not tell her what Golgora had really been, that there was a Race of people who looked like that living in their own Realm. She didn't need to know anything about the Midnight War. "It doesn't really matter now. Are you okay? You've been through a lot tonight.
She made a scoffing noise. "Oh, I was in Poland when the Russians came in. Believe me, I've survived worse than this."
10/5/2013
