"The White Wolves of Zimborlin"
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dochermes"The White Wolves of Zimborlin"
4/22/1987
I.
4/22/1987
I.
Jeremy Bane could not remember the last time he had stepped out into public without the flexible armor under his clothes, without his gun or his gadgets, especially without the silver-bladed daggers strapped to his forearms. He was wearing plain canvas sneakers, denim jeans and a dark green T-shirt , which left him feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed. A six feet tall mass of highly defined lean muscle, Bane was a few months shy of turning thirty but he seemed younger somehow in his discomfort. He stood outside the front door of the Hawk Island complex and felt a brisk April breeze drift in off the Atlantic. They were only ten few miles off the coast of northern Maine.
Looking over the assemblage of twenty Midnight War heroes socializing on the asphalt gathering ground, he did ease up slightly. Surrounded by friends like these could not be anything but reassuring. Two long redwood tables held trays of cheese and fruit and crackers, as well as bottles of sparkling water, soda, even some beer and wine. Long benches and lawn chairs were available but most of the heroes milled about and chatted in small clusters.
The founding members and most associate members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation were there, but so were several colleagues not seen often enough. Samuel Watesa, the greatest Houngan of his era. Mary Cassidy, the Unicorn. Andrew Steel. Bent old Dr Kobal. Cheval. Even the reclusive Dr Matthias Mage had appeared briefly to greet everyone before taking off again. Everyone was catching up on events, reminiscing, discussing current events of the mundane life. A portable sound system was playing old rock songs that almost everyone would like or at least not object to. Bane turned his head and sniffed as a tempting odor reached him. He went back inside the long 0ne-story complex and down the hall to the galley.
This was a brand new display of gleaming stainless steel and dark wood paneling. Both ovens were going full blast, as well as the top burners supporting various pots and pans which steamed and burbled. Unmistakable aromas of roast beef and lamb prompted his stomach to growl. Straightening up as she closed one oven door was a gorgeous blonde woman, six feet tall and fit as any athlete in a brown pullover with a front zipper and tan slacks. Princess Valera of Androval gave him a smile that was like a present. "Captain! Eager to eat, I presume?"
"I have never smelled anything more tempting," he honestly said. "What are those spices though? I can't place them."
"Ah, well-guarded secrets of Melgar cuisine," she teased with her blue eyes gleeful. "One half hour more, Jeremy. The dining table in the next room is not set, but I brought some decent china and cutlery to use for a change."
The Dire Wolf shook his head. "Waiting is sure going to test everyone's discipline."
Over by a prep counter, the newest and youngest KDF member grinned widely. At just eighteen, Tang Ming was a petite girl from Hong Kong whose powers of enhanced awareness and martial skills had qualified her to join. "I am helping too! With my perception, I can tell if anything is about to burn."
"Why, you insolent little thing!" said Valera in mock outrage. "What do you mean, 'if anything is about to burn?' Really. How are those mixed vegetables you were chopping?"
"They will be crisp and delicious," Ming promised. "Particularly the bamboo shoots. I had six brothers and sisters back home and often helped my mother prepare meals."
"Now you are saying I remind you of your mother?! Jeremy, you see what I have to endure?"
"Hee hee hee," was Tang Ming's comment as she went back to work.
Seeing Bane was heading back out of the kitchen, Valera called after him, "Jeremy, this was such a great idea. We all needed this."
"Thanks, Princess," said Bane simply. He went back past the front office and meeting room to step back out into the early afternoon sunlight. The past six months had indeed been grueling for his team. One crisis after another, they had faced their biggest threats in a rapid succession. There had been Arem Kamende's most ambitious scheme. Then clashes with the Preincarnators, then with Those Who Remember and Simon Cohen. Wu Lung's army of the BlackMantis and finally the Ship of Skulls battle with that traumatic exposure to a creature of the Sulla Chun. He had thought even his team was becoming worn down and stressed out. His proposal for a social gathering away from the Midnight War for a day had been met with cheers.
Hurrying to meet him was a blonde carrying an acoustic guitar nearly as large as she was. Her flip-flops making slapping noises, wearing only blue bikini panties and a blue sleeveless tanktop, Cindy Brunner evidently was having trouble catching her breath. She was laughing too much.
Bane watched his lover and partner for the past eight years and waited for her to get a grip. He himself had never displayed a discernable sense of humor but he realized she made up for his lack. In a second, the telepath, "Oh my God. Jeremy! It's too much. The Olur was dancing. You have to see this!"
"Watch him dance?" repeared the Dire Wolf. "Hell, I can hardly look at Dinsdell without losing it."
"Over here. Oh, no, he acting out pantomime now." Cindy seized Bane by one wrist and dragged him over to where most of the assemblage was standing in a rough circle.
II.
In their center stood a figure bizarre even by Midnight War standards. The Orul stood slightly more than three feet high, with most of his body draped in a heavy cotton robe of a colorful paisley-like design which reached the ground. His exposed arms were short and thick, ending in hands which oddly had only a thumb and a flat pad like a mitten instead of separate fingers. It was the head that revealed why no one had any idea where the Orulin had originated or much about their nature. A round bulb with tawny lion-colored skin, it held two large multiple-faceted eyes and earflaps up near its top. Two short antennae above the eyes moved independently, and the mouth was constructed of numerous wide sections which opened and closed in seemingly random combinations as an Orul talked. Everyone seemed to find this appealing for some reason. Adding to all this was that Orulan voices were reminiscent of a Human who had inhaled some helium. The incongrous English slang and unfathomable wordplay in which Dinsdell indulged was the final touch which left all the KDF members giggling and delighted as they spoke with him.
Earlier in the day, Leonard Slade had requested a tiny blood sample and some DNA from a mouth scraping, which Dinsdell had freely agreed to donate. The Trom had taken extensive readings on his Link sensors which recorded everything from heat signature to bone density to chemicals in exhalations. Slade had retired to the Hawk Island lab to see what conclusions he could reach. That had been four hours earlier and he had not emerged yet. The Orul himself was no help revealing anything about his kind. His Race was a pre-literate society with no advances beyond language and fire. As far as their legends told, they had always been just as they were, enjoying a thirty thousand year party.
It would not be revealed until days later that Orulin secreted natural pheromones which had a mildly sedating and euphoric quality. Small wonder the KDF members had loved hanging around Dinsdell that day. It might be the only way Tel Shai knights with their healing factor could have gotten even slightly high.
Shortly, Valera whistled from the doorway for everyone to come in and help set the dining table. As the assembled Tel Shai knights and their friends headed inside, a tall silent man in a business suit waved at the Olur in passing. The winged demon Gornak was maintaining his Human illusion so as not to alarm the little guest. He felt rightly that seeing him at close range in his red-hided bat-winged true self would give Dinsdell cardiac arrest. Even so, when the illusion-concealed Kulan demon went by, Dinsdell gave him an uncertain glance.
Dinsdell scurried up to Bane. Despite his innate grimness and natural poker face the Dire Wolf could not help smiling at the flamboyant gestures of the small being. The bizarre head of the Oluran barely came to the center of Bane's chest. "Let's rap, baby."
"Where have you been picking up these phrases? Never mind," Bane said. "What's on your mind?"
"Wellll, I hate to be downer boy but I gotta split. It's that smell from your kitchen. Can't take it, can't take it."
"What, the cooking odor bothers you?" The Dire Wolf sniffed the air again and he thought the spicy aromas were fine.
Dinsdell's multiple mouth parts clicked open and shut in combinations. "But, but, you know we're herbivores. Most we ever do is stew vegetables with maybe a turtle egg if we feel daring, usually we sorta graze on the hills. It's our nature, can't change, won't change. You Humans burn animal bodies for a meal, and hey, no matter your problem or preference, it's your choice. But I am getting queasy to be straightforward, honest and direct."
"Hmm. I didn't know this. Of course we'll return you home right away, Dinsdell. Let's go see Khang." He led the little being away from the music and chatter to where one of Hawk Island's few cluster of trees stood one hundred yards away. Here towered an imposing figure entirely concealed in a long black trenchcoat, fedora pulled low and a dark scarf and opaque goggles revealing not a bit of skin. The giant silver man raised his head and watched them approach. Wearing long cotton skirts which grazed the ground and with a habit of taking short rapid steps while their concealed feet could not be seen, Olurin appeared to smoothly glide when they moved.
"Hey, Khang!" Bane called. "What are you doing way over here?"
"Food and drink are not for me," came a deep rumbling voice which echoed as if coming from all directions at once. "Nor was this body crafted to caper and dance."
"You could still socialize. Unbend a little, it might do you good."
The giant raised a brown-leather gloved hand. "Do not worry about me, captain. In my own way, I enjoy seeing the young enjoy life. Let them laugh and love while they may."
"Whoa, heavy," squeaked Dinsdell.
"It's up to you," Bane went on. "In any case, our friend here is ready to go home. Can you help him out?"
A rumble that might have been amusement came from the silver man. "You make it sound as if I should drive him in a car to some nearby town, Jeremy. Zimborlin is a closed realm. Even for one such as I, it is exceedingly hard to reach. Great Jordyn has shown wisdom in this, protecting these defenseless Olurin against invaders from Maroch or Ulgor."
"That's why I was so glad to welcome Dinsdell here for the day. I don't think any of his people have been in the world within living memory. I couldn't even find much about them in Mr Dred's notes."
Khang waved a warning finger at the little creature. "Oh my friend, have a care. You are surrounded by more peril than you know. Even in your peaceful land of green meadows and clear brooks, dark things lurk in the shadows. There must always be a balance. Is this not so?"
For the first time, Dinsdell's squeaky voice lost its exuberance. "Thracosim. They live high in the mountains. We know they sometimes take an elderly Orul who walks alone or snatch up small beasts and birds. But if you give it some thought, without predators, grazers would multiply until the food was gone. Without grazers, predators would have nothing to eat either."
"Yeah, nature is cold," Bane agreed. "Lambs and tigers need each other. What are these Thracosim anyway?"
"The White Wolves." Dinsdell waved his mitten-like paws in growing agitation and said, "But let us say no more. This has been such a joyful day. Dude, don't bum me out."
"Sure. Khang, if you wouldn't mind opening a doorway?"
The huge Servant of Halar-Koth peeled off a glove to reveal a hand seemingly made of burnished silver which flexed as normally as flesh and blood would. From that hand, gralic force whirled and sparked, and a bluish area appeared in the air before them. The gateway grew brighter, more clearly defined as they watched, becoming a hazy opening through which vague shapes could be glimpsed.
"This door to Zimborlin will take several minutes to open," Khang rumbled. "As it will fade away again minutes later. I must admit it takes an effort to force it into existence at all. Ah. Cindy gestures to me. I will see what she wants. Take care, Dinsdell. Captain, I will return shortly." The giant strode off to join the others, speaking quietly as if to himself, "She probably is trying to start one of her sing-alongs...."
Left alone by the brightening gateway, Jeremy Bane allowed himself a contented sigh. He extended a hand to the Orul, who solemly shook it. "I'm glad you managed to contact us, Dinsdell. Your visit was exacty what my team needed."
"I can dig it," answered the childlike voice. "My tribe was curious to see what was going on in the world beyond ours. Heh, they will not BELIEVE any of what I tell them! We'll be arguing and debating for ages about you guys. Woof."
The Dire Wolf examined the glowing blue area hanging in mid-air next to him. Its edges had grown more sharply defined. Within its outline, sunlight on green grassy plains were becoming clear. He turned back to Dinsdell and started to say it was time to pass through the gate when he stopped short at what he had heard.
Was that a growl?
III.
The snarl was faint, barely audible through the brightening gateway, and it had been choked off at once. But that was more than enough to alert Bane. The tiny warning of repressed ferocity galvanized him. Quick beyond Human reflexes, he seized Dinsdell with both hands and swung around to bend over the little Oluran protectively. It meant presenting his back to the attacker but defending their guest came first. As instantly as he had reacted, the Dire Wolf was still barely in time to protect the squealing Dinsdell as two hundred pounds of shaggy horror pounced through the opening in the air.
With a howl that belonged in some prehistoric forest, the monster leaped headlong at Bane. The size and weight of a large man, the White Wolf was covered with short bristly white fur. Its lupine body had an expanded ribcage and shoulders wide enough to offer the forelimbs full range of motion. The head remained mostly wolflike, with only a higher brow ledge between the upright ears to hint at increased intelligence.
Gnashing its jaws closed as it attacked, the White Wolf expected to sink those long fangs deep into flesh... but it was rudely surprised to only slash open the thin cotton of a shirt without even breaking skin. In the next split-second, Bane spun to face the beast, chambered his leg up and drove his foot right against the brute's torso without pulling the kick in the least. He knew he was facing an animal faster and stronger than he himself was, and the Dire Wolf put full focus into that blow. Any Human receiving the kick would have died with broken ribs and a shattered sternum.
Startled but unhurt, the monster was up again and circling this strange prey. Bane had reached behind himself to shove Dinsdell away. "Get out of here!" he yelled as the beast sprang full upon him. Unarmed and unarmored, the Dire Wolf knew he could not survive close contact with this animal. His only chance was to keep the White Wolf at bay for a second. His teammates were not far away and he was sure they were even then heading to intervene.
The White Wolf crouched, shifted its weight and came at him again. Bane resigned himself to using brutal techniques he seldom employed against enemies. Both his hands darted forward with the thumbs and forefingers together and, with grim accuracy, he popped both of the animal's eyeballs out of the sockets completely. The White Wolf shrieked, rolling in its agony over and over on the asphalt. Bane stood nearby, saw his opening and dropped to one knee. He smashed his extended leopard's-paw fist down in the technique used to break tiles and bricks, and he felt the back of the brute's skull crack beneath the impact. Instantly, Bane leaped back up out of range from the dying convulsions of the beast.
A White Wolf of Zimborlin! Bane had never even heard of one before today. He glanced up to be sure that Dinsdell was waddling to safety with that peculiar gait and as he did so, a crushing weight landed on his back and smashed him down to the asphalt with jarring impact. He felt the wind driven out of him and for one terrifying moment he wasn't sure he could get loose before the White Wolf would kill him. But the beast scented its natural prey and bounded after the fleeing Orulin instead. As Bane scrambled back up onto his hands and knees, he saw more of the furry creatures stamping past him in pursuit of their pack member. A dozen of the brutes made it through before the gralic gateway faded and closed, stranding them in the world.
IV.
Stephen Weaver had been closing up the CORBY hangar a hundred yards away, when the first White Wolf's growl had reached his ears. Without conscious thought, the ex-USAF pilot dove up into the air and drew on his full power. Even in civilian clothes without the artificial wings to help steer, Black Angel possessed his levitation. He sped through the air to scoop up Dinsdell just as the nearest of the monsters would have sunk its teeth into the panicky Orulan. Weaver had no clear idea what was happening yet, everything had happened so quickly, but his instinct was to get their meek little guest out of danger. He swerved upward and rose high out of reach, holding the wriggling Dinsdell in both arms. "Hold still!" he shouted. "You don't wanna get dropped on your fool head, do you?"
As the White Wolves saw their intended prey snatched out of reach, they skidded to a halt and peered around uncertainly. Like many predators, they relied heavily on scent. Hawk Island was unfamiliar to them, its sparse vegetation and the nearby saltwater confused them. The aroma of roast beef caught their attention and the creatures found it incredibly tempting. They drew together and turned their attention back to the strange creature which stood on two legs. The leader of the pack rumbled deep in its massive chest and began to stalk toward this other possible prey.
Bane readied himself for what seemed likely to be his final fight. At least Dinsdell was safe. The Dire Wolf tightened his fists, settled into a loose stance that would enable him to move in any direction. The nearest of the Zimborlan predators moved still closer while its pack mates held back. They were ravenous and yet naturally cautious. This prey did not try to run. And it had the scent of a meat-eater, which was off-putting. The White Wolf lunged with jaws opened wide... and it was snatched away from above by the powerful talons of a Kulan. With his batlike wings spread wide, Gornak had plucked up the beast like an eagle seizing a rabbit. The White Wolf twisted and wriggled in its efforts to break free, but it only had a second of life left. Gornak raised a knee in mid-air and broke the beast's back with a sudden move, then threw the body far to one side. When he had seen his captain attacked by these brutes, Gornak had shed his Human illusion in a crackle of yellow flame and flew to help.
The White Wolves lost their minds completely at this point. Four of them wheeled about and galloped away toward the other end of the island, wailing like frightened dogs. The onslaught of a Kulan like a giant bat from Hell was too much for them. Bolder or hungrier, the remaining beast reared up on its hind legs, standing six feet tall, and snapped at Bane's face. Barely in time, the Dire Wolf rammed his elbow horizontally against the animal's neck and kept from being bitten.The clawed paws still whipped around to slice deeply across Bane's chest. Almost simultaneously, the Dire Wolf's free fist came up with two short hooking blows into the White Wolf's chest. With his full speed and Kumundu technique, Bane's punches cracked bone where they struck. The Zimborlan beast dropped back down and ran away full tilt.
Overhead a dark shape passed like the shadow of death. Gornak the demon swooped down after the fleeing beast. The Kulan's bloodlust was roused and he could not have stopped even if he had wanted to. Even in its pain and uncertainty, the White Wolf caught the bitter acrid scent of the winged creature right above him. The White Wolf hunched down and tried to curl into a ball but there was no escape for him. Gornak crashed down upon him and they rolled over and over in an enraged tangle of limbs and wings and tail. A yelp of pain was abruptly cut off. The Kulan's razor-edged canines had sunk to the gums into the White Wolf's neck and a wrenching motion tore that throat open. Rising, the demon from Fanedral stood glaring down at the dead beast by his feet.
Gornak tasted hot salty wetness in his mouth and he trembled. What of his vow? He had been granted asylum in this world and acceptance with these Tel Shai knights so long as he did not kill any intelligent being. Did that count with these white-furred things? Were they intelligent? Had he lost his one chance at refuge from the vengeance of Draldros? The powerful demon made a strange choking noise and he flapped his wings once to dive into the ocean twenty feet away. Standing chest deep, Gornak frantically wiped his fangs and muzzle clean with the cold water. Then he realized that tears were pouring from his amber eyes. It couldn't be. Kulan did not have the capacity to weep. And yet... there were tears running down his houndlike face. What had happened to him in this world?
Only a short time had elapsed since the White Wolves had stormed in through the open gateway. The other KDF members raced up, only beaten to the scene because Weaver and Gornak had the capacity for flight. Ted Wright had as always his medical satchel near at hand, and despite Bane's protests, he ripped away the tatters of that green T-shirt and examined the gouges across his captain's chest. "You're bleeding freely, but I don't think stitches will be necessary. Not with your enhanced healing. Will you PLEASE hold still!" The Blue Guide pressed some sterile gauze pads onto Bane's chest, tore off lengths of white surgical tape with his free hand and dressed the wounds.
After a moment of trying to wriggle away, Bane stayed put and allowed his oldest friend to finish tidying up the bandages with both hands free. "Thanks, Ted. I should listen to what my doctor tells me."
"That'll be the day," Wright muttered. "Let's see your back. Nothing. Not even a pink scratch. Here are some alcohol spray and dry swabs, wipe your hands off before you go inside to properly scrub."
The Dire Wolf complied. He had overlooked it during the fight, but his fingers had been sticky with goo from the first White Wolf's eyeballs. With some relief, he saw his other teammates surrounding him. No one had been hurt. It had crossed his mind that he might not have noticed one of the White Wolves attacking one of his friends while he had been fighting for his life. "Steve! Steve, how's Dinsdell?"
Walking the diminutive being over now that the danger had passed, Weaver clapped a hand on their guest's shoulder. "Fine, fine. Maybe a little weak in the knees. Captain, there's still five of those wolfman things whatever they are loose on the island."
"With our abilities, we should be able to round them up and return them to Zimborlin. Then we will send Dinsdell back but to to a different arrival point," Bane said. He caught sight of Gornak still wading in the ocean, crestfallen and head lowered. "Wait a minute. Hey, Gornak, it's okay, get over here."
With slow reluctant steps, wings folded, the Kulan obeyed. "I have broken my vow, captain. I must be cast back into Fanedral to be tortured."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Bane told him. "Those are animals without speech, I don't think they fall under the prohibition of your vow. And you did save my life. I have to admit that tackling a dozen White Wolves barehanded was a little too much for me to handle."
That made Ted Wright laugh out loud. "Jeremy, it was worth the moment of fear and worry just to hear you admit that!"
11/19/2018
4/22/1987
I.
4/22/1987
I.
Jeremy Bane could not remember the last time he had stepped out into public without the flexible armor under his clothes, without his gun or his gadgets, especially without the silver-bladed daggers strapped to his forearms. He was wearing plain canvas sneakers, denim jeans and a dark green T-shirt , which left him feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed. A six feet tall mass of highly defined lean muscle, Bane was a few months shy of turning thirty but he seemed younger somehow in his discomfort. He stood outside the front door of the Hawk Island complex and felt a brisk April breeze drift in off the Atlantic. They were only ten few miles off the coast of northern Maine.
Looking over the assemblage of twenty Midnight War heroes socializing on the asphalt gathering ground, he did ease up slightly. Surrounded by friends like these could not be anything but reassuring. Two long redwood tables held trays of cheese and fruit and crackers, as well as bottles of sparkling water, soda, even some beer and wine. Long benches and lawn chairs were available but most of the heroes milled about and chatted in small clusters.
The founding members and most associate members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation were there, but so were several colleagues not seen often enough. Samuel Watesa, the greatest Houngan of his era. Mary Cassidy, the Unicorn. Andrew Steel. Bent old Dr Kobal. Cheval. Even the reclusive Dr Matthias Mage had appeared briefly to greet everyone before taking off again. Everyone was catching up on events, reminiscing, discussing current events of the mundane life. A portable sound system was playing old rock songs that almost everyone would like or at least not object to. Bane turned his head and sniffed as a tempting odor reached him. He went back inside the long 0ne-story complex and down the hall to the galley.
This was a brand new display of gleaming stainless steel and dark wood paneling. Both ovens were going full blast, as well as the top burners supporting various pots and pans which steamed and burbled. Unmistakable aromas of roast beef and lamb prompted his stomach to growl. Straightening up as she closed one oven door was a gorgeous blonde woman, six feet tall and fit as any athlete in a brown pullover with a front zipper and tan slacks. Princess Valera of Androval gave him a smile that was like a present. "Captain! Eager to eat, I presume?"
"I have never smelled anything more tempting," he honestly said. "What are those spices though? I can't place them."
"Ah, well-guarded secrets of Melgar cuisine," she teased with her blue eyes gleeful. "One half hour more, Jeremy. The dining table in the next room is not set, but I brought some decent china and cutlery to use for a change."
The Dire Wolf shook his head. "Waiting is sure going to test everyone's discipline."
Over by a prep counter, the newest and youngest KDF member grinned widely. At just eighteen, Tang Ming was a petite girl from Hong Kong whose powers of enhanced awareness and martial skills had qualified her to join. "I am helping too! With my perception, I can tell if anything is about to burn."
"Why, you insolent little thing!" said Valera in mock outrage. "What do you mean, 'if anything is about to burn?' Really. How are those mixed vegetables you were chopping?"
"They will be crisp and delicious," Ming promised. "Particularly the bamboo shoots. I had six brothers and sisters back home and often helped my mother prepare meals."
"Now you are saying I remind you of your mother?! Jeremy, you see what I have to endure?"
"Hee hee hee," was Tang Ming's comment as she went back to work.
Seeing Bane was heading back out of the kitchen, Valera called after him, "Jeremy, this was such a great idea. We all needed this."
"Thanks, Princess," said Bane simply. He went back past the front office and meeting room to step back out into the early afternoon sunlight. The past six months had indeed been grueling for his team. One crisis after another, they had faced their biggest threats in a rapid succession. There had been Arem Kamende's most ambitious scheme. Then clashes with the Preincarnators, then with Those Who Remember and Simon Cohen. Wu Lung's army of the BlackMantis and finally the Ship of Skulls battle with that traumatic exposure to a creature of the Sulla Chun. He had thought even his team was becoming worn down and stressed out. His proposal for a social gathering away from the Midnight War for a day had been met with cheers.
Hurrying to meet him was a blonde carrying an acoustic guitar nearly as large as she was. Her flip-flops making slapping noises, wearing only blue bikini panties and a blue sleeveless tanktop, Cindy Brunner evidently was having trouble catching her breath. She was laughing too much.
Bane watched his lover and partner for the past eight years and waited for her to get a grip. He himself had never displayed a discernable sense of humor but he realized she made up for his lack. In a second, the telepath, "Oh my God. Jeremy! It's too much. The Olur was dancing. You have to see this!"
"Watch him dance?" repeared the Dire Wolf. "Hell, I can hardly look at Dinsdell without losing it."
"Over here. Oh, no, he acting out pantomime now." Cindy seized Bane by one wrist and dragged him over to where most of the assemblage was standing in a rough circle.
II.
In their center stood a figure bizarre even by Midnight War standards. The Orul stood slightly more than three feet high, with most of his body draped in a heavy cotton robe of a colorful paisley-like design which reached the ground. His exposed arms were short and thick, ending in hands which oddly had only a thumb and a flat pad like a mitten instead of separate fingers. It was the head that revealed why no one had any idea where the Orulin had originated or much about their nature. A round bulb with tawny lion-colored skin, it held two large multiple-faceted eyes and earflaps up near its top. Two short antennae above the eyes moved independently, and the mouth was constructed of numerous wide sections which opened and closed in seemingly random combinations as an Orul talked. Everyone seemed to find this appealing for some reason. Adding to all this was that Orulan voices were reminiscent of a Human who had inhaled some helium. The incongrous English slang and unfathomable wordplay in which Dinsdell indulged was the final touch which left all the KDF members giggling and delighted as they spoke with him.
Earlier in the day, Leonard Slade had requested a tiny blood sample and some DNA from a mouth scraping, which Dinsdell had freely agreed to donate. The Trom had taken extensive readings on his Link sensors which recorded everything from heat signature to bone density to chemicals in exhalations. Slade had retired to the Hawk Island lab to see what conclusions he could reach. That had been four hours earlier and he had not emerged yet. The Orul himself was no help revealing anything about his kind. His Race was a pre-literate society with no advances beyond language and fire. As far as their legends told, they had always been just as they were, enjoying a thirty thousand year party.
It would not be revealed until days later that Orulin secreted natural pheromones which had a mildly sedating and euphoric quality. Small wonder the KDF members had loved hanging around Dinsdell that day. It might be the only way Tel Shai knights with their healing factor could have gotten even slightly high.
Shortly, Valera whistled from the doorway for everyone to come in and help set the dining table. As the assembled Tel Shai knights and their friends headed inside, a tall silent man in a business suit waved at the Olur in passing. The winged demon Gornak was maintaining his Human illusion so as not to alarm the little guest. He felt rightly that seeing him at close range in his red-hided bat-winged true self would give Dinsdell cardiac arrest. Even so, when the illusion-concealed Kulan demon went by, Dinsdell gave him an uncertain glance.
Dinsdell scurried up to Bane. Despite his innate grimness and natural poker face the Dire Wolf could not help smiling at the flamboyant gestures of the small being. The bizarre head of the Oluran barely came to the center of Bane's chest. "Let's rap, baby."
"Where have you been picking up these phrases? Never mind," Bane said. "What's on your mind?"
"Wellll, I hate to be downer boy but I gotta split. It's that smell from your kitchen. Can't take it, can't take it."
"What, the cooking odor bothers you?" The Dire Wolf sniffed the air again and he thought the spicy aromas were fine.
Dinsdell's multiple mouth parts clicked open and shut in combinations. "But, but, you know we're herbivores. Most we ever do is stew vegetables with maybe a turtle egg if we feel daring, usually we sorta graze on the hills. It's our nature, can't change, won't change. You Humans burn animal bodies for a meal, and hey, no matter your problem or preference, it's your choice. But I am getting queasy to be straightforward, honest and direct."
"Hmm. I didn't know this. Of course we'll return you home right away, Dinsdell. Let's go see Khang." He led the little being away from the music and chatter to where one of Hawk Island's few cluster of trees stood one hundred yards away. Here towered an imposing figure entirely concealed in a long black trenchcoat, fedora pulled low and a dark scarf and opaque goggles revealing not a bit of skin. The giant silver man raised his head and watched them approach. Wearing long cotton skirts which grazed the ground and with a habit of taking short rapid steps while their concealed feet could not be seen, Olurin appeared to smoothly glide when they moved.
"Hey, Khang!" Bane called. "What are you doing way over here?"
"Food and drink are not for me," came a deep rumbling voice which echoed as if coming from all directions at once. "Nor was this body crafted to caper and dance."
"You could still socialize. Unbend a little, it might do you good."
The giant raised a brown-leather gloved hand. "Do not worry about me, captain. In my own way, I enjoy seeing the young enjoy life. Let them laugh and love while they may."
"Whoa, heavy," squeaked Dinsdell.
"It's up to you," Bane went on. "In any case, our friend here is ready to go home. Can you help him out?"
A rumble that might have been amusement came from the silver man. "You make it sound as if I should drive him in a car to some nearby town, Jeremy. Zimborlin is a closed realm. Even for one such as I, it is exceedingly hard to reach. Great Jordyn has shown wisdom in this, protecting these defenseless Olurin against invaders from Maroch or Ulgor."
"That's why I was so glad to welcome Dinsdell here for the day. I don't think any of his people have been in the world within living memory. I couldn't even find much about them in Mr Dred's notes."
Khang waved a warning finger at the little creature. "Oh my friend, have a care. You are surrounded by more peril than you know. Even in your peaceful land of green meadows and clear brooks, dark things lurk in the shadows. There must always be a balance. Is this not so?"
For the first time, Dinsdell's squeaky voice lost its exuberance. "Thracosim. They live high in the mountains. We know they sometimes take an elderly Orul who walks alone or snatch up small beasts and birds. But if you give it some thought, without predators, grazers would multiply until the food was gone. Without grazers, predators would have nothing to eat either."
"Yeah, nature is cold," Bane agreed. "Lambs and tigers need each other. What are these Thracosim anyway?"
"The White Wolves." Dinsdell waved his mitten-like paws in growing agitation and said, "But let us say no more. This has been such a joyful day. Dude, don't bum me out."
"Sure. Khang, if you wouldn't mind opening a doorway?"
The huge Servant of Halar-Koth peeled off a glove to reveal a hand seemingly made of burnished silver which flexed as normally as flesh and blood would. From that hand, gralic force whirled and sparked, and a bluish area appeared in the air before them. The gateway grew brighter, more clearly defined as they watched, becoming a hazy opening through which vague shapes could be glimpsed.
"This door to Zimborlin will take several minutes to open," Khang rumbled. "As it will fade away again minutes later. I must admit it takes an effort to force it into existence at all. Ah. Cindy gestures to me. I will see what she wants. Take care, Dinsdell. Captain, I will return shortly." The giant strode off to join the others, speaking quietly as if to himself, "She probably is trying to start one of her sing-alongs...."
Left alone by the brightening gateway, Jeremy Bane allowed himself a contented sigh. He extended a hand to the Orul, who solemly shook it. "I'm glad you managed to contact us, Dinsdell. Your visit was exacty what my team needed."
"I can dig it," answered the childlike voice. "My tribe was curious to see what was going on in the world beyond ours. Heh, they will not BELIEVE any of what I tell them! We'll be arguing and debating for ages about you guys. Woof."
The Dire Wolf examined the glowing blue area hanging in mid-air next to him. Its edges had grown more sharply defined. Within its outline, sunlight on green grassy plains were becoming clear. He turned back to Dinsdell and started to say it was time to pass through the gate when he stopped short at what he had heard.
Was that a growl?
III.
The snarl was faint, barely audible through the brightening gateway, and it had been choked off at once. But that was more than enough to alert Bane. The tiny warning of repressed ferocity galvanized him. Quick beyond Human reflexes, he seized Dinsdell with both hands and swung around to bend over the little Oluran protectively. It meant presenting his back to the attacker but defending their guest came first. As instantly as he had reacted, the Dire Wolf was still barely in time to protect the squealing Dinsdell as two hundred pounds of shaggy horror pounced through the opening in the air.
With a howl that belonged in some prehistoric forest, the monster leaped headlong at Bane. The size and weight of a large man, the White Wolf was covered with short bristly white fur. Its lupine body had an expanded ribcage and shoulders wide enough to offer the forelimbs full range of motion. The head remained mostly wolflike, with only a higher brow ledge between the upright ears to hint at increased intelligence.
Gnashing its jaws closed as it attacked, the White Wolf expected to sink those long fangs deep into flesh... but it was rudely surprised to only slash open the thin cotton of a shirt without even breaking skin. In the next split-second, Bane spun to face the beast, chambered his leg up and drove his foot right against the brute's torso without pulling the kick in the least. He knew he was facing an animal faster and stronger than he himself was, and the Dire Wolf put full focus into that blow. Any Human receiving the kick would have died with broken ribs and a shattered sternum.
Startled but unhurt, the monster was up again and circling this strange prey. Bane had reached behind himself to shove Dinsdell away. "Get out of here!" he yelled as the beast sprang full upon him. Unarmed and unarmored, the Dire Wolf knew he could not survive close contact with this animal. His only chance was to keep the White Wolf at bay for a second. His teammates were not far away and he was sure they were even then heading to intervene.
The White Wolf crouched, shifted its weight and came at him again. Bane resigned himself to using brutal techniques he seldom employed against enemies. Both his hands darted forward with the thumbs and forefingers together and, with grim accuracy, he popped both of the animal's eyeballs out of the sockets completely. The White Wolf shrieked, rolling in its agony over and over on the asphalt. Bane stood nearby, saw his opening and dropped to one knee. He smashed his extended leopard's-paw fist down in the technique used to break tiles and bricks, and he felt the back of the brute's skull crack beneath the impact. Instantly, Bane leaped back up out of range from the dying convulsions of the beast.
A White Wolf of Zimborlin! Bane had never even heard of one before today. He glanced up to be sure that Dinsdell was waddling to safety with that peculiar gait and as he did so, a crushing weight landed on his back and smashed him down to the asphalt with jarring impact. He felt the wind driven out of him and for one terrifying moment he wasn't sure he could get loose before the White Wolf would kill him. But the beast scented its natural prey and bounded after the fleeing Orulin instead. As Bane scrambled back up onto his hands and knees, he saw more of the furry creatures stamping past him in pursuit of their pack member. A dozen of the brutes made it through before the gralic gateway faded and closed, stranding them in the world.
IV.
Stephen Weaver had been closing up the CORBY hangar a hundred yards away, when the first White Wolf's growl had reached his ears. Without conscious thought, the ex-USAF pilot dove up into the air and drew on his full power. Even in civilian clothes without the artificial wings to help steer, Black Angel possessed his levitation. He sped through the air to scoop up Dinsdell just as the nearest of the monsters would have sunk its teeth into the panicky Orulan. Weaver had no clear idea what was happening yet, everything had happened so quickly, but his instinct was to get their meek little guest out of danger. He swerved upward and rose high out of reach, holding the wriggling Dinsdell in both arms. "Hold still!" he shouted. "You don't wanna get dropped on your fool head, do you?"
As the White Wolves saw their intended prey snatched out of reach, they skidded to a halt and peered around uncertainly. Like many predators, they relied heavily on scent. Hawk Island was unfamiliar to them, its sparse vegetation and the nearby saltwater confused them. The aroma of roast beef caught their attention and the creatures found it incredibly tempting. They drew together and turned their attention back to the strange creature which stood on two legs. The leader of the pack rumbled deep in its massive chest and began to stalk toward this other possible prey.
Bane readied himself for what seemed likely to be his final fight. At least Dinsdell was safe. The Dire Wolf tightened his fists, settled into a loose stance that would enable him to move in any direction. The nearest of the Zimborlan predators moved still closer while its pack mates held back. They were ravenous and yet naturally cautious. This prey did not try to run. And it had the scent of a meat-eater, which was off-putting. The White Wolf lunged with jaws opened wide... and it was snatched away from above by the powerful talons of a Kulan. With his batlike wings spread wide, Gornak had plucked up the beast like an eagle seizing a rabbit. The White Wolf twisted and wriggled in its efforts to break free, but it only had a second of life left. Gornak raised a knee in mid-air and broke the beast's back with a sudden move, then threw the body far to one side. When he had seen his captain attacked by these brutes, Gornak had shed his Human illusion in a crackle of yellow flame and flew to help.
The White Wolves lost their minds completely at this point. Four of them wheeled about and galloped away toward the other end of the island, wailing like frightened dogs. The onslaught of a Kulan like a giant bat from Hell was too much for them. Bolder or hungrier, the remaining beast reared up on its hind legs, standing six feet tall, and snapped at Bane's face. Barely in time, the Dire Wolf rammed his elbow horizontally against the animal's neck and kept from being bitten.The clawed paws still whipped around to slice deeply across Bane's chest. Almost simultaneously, the Dire Wolf's free fist came up with two short hooking blows into the White Wolf's chest. With his full speed and Kumundu technique, Bane's punches cracked bone where they struck. The Zimborlan beast dropped back down and ran away full tilt.
Overhead a dark shape passed like the shadow of death. Gornak the demon swooped down after the fleeing beast. The Kulan's bloodlust was roused and he could not have stopped even if he had wanted to. Even in its pain and uncertainty, the White Wolf caught the bitter acrid scent of the winged creature right above him. The White Wolf hunched down and tried to curl into a ball but there was no escape for him. Gornak crashed down upon him and they rolled over and over in an enraged tangle of limbs and wings and tail. A yelp of pain was abruptly cut off. The Kulan's razor-edged canines had sunk to the gums into the White Wolf's neck and a wrenching motion tore that throat open. Rising, the demon from Fanedral stood glaring down at the dead beast by his feet.
Gornak tasted hot salty wetness in his mouth and he trembled. What of his vow? He had been granted asylum in this world and acceptance with these Tel Shai knights so long as he did not kill any intelligent being. Did that count with these white-furred things? Were they intelligent? Had he lost his one chance at refuge from the vengeance of Draldros? The powerful demon made a strange choking noise and he flapped his wings once to dive into the ocean twenty feet away. Standing chest deep, Gornak frantically wiped his fangs and muzzle clean with the cold water. Then he realized that tears were pouring from his amber eyes. It couldn't be. Kulan did not have the capacity to weep. And yet... there were tears running down his houndlike face. What had happened to him in this world?
Only a short time had elapsed since the White Wolves had stormed in through the open gateway. The other KDF members raced up, only beaten to the scene because Weaver and Gornak had the capacity for flight. Ted Wright had as always his medical satchel near at hand, and despite Bane's protests, he ripped away the tatters of that green T-shirt and examined the gouges across his captain's chest. "You're bleeding freely, but I don't think stitches will be necessary. Not with your enhanced healing. Will you PLEASE hold still!" The Blue Guide pressed some sterile gauze pads onto Bane's chest, tore off lengths of white surgical tape with his free hand and dressed the wounds.
After a moment of trying to wriggle away, Bane stayed put and allowed his oldest friend to finish tidying up the bandages with both hands free. "Thanks, Ted. I should listen to what my doctor tells me."
"That'll be the day," Wright muttered. "Let's see your back. Nothing. Not even a pink scratch. Here are some alcohol spray and dry swabs, wipe your hands off before you go inside to properly scrub."
The Dire Wolf complied. He had overlooked it during the fight, but his fingers had been sticky with goo from the first White Wolf's eyeballs. With some relief, he saw his other teammates surrounding him. No one had been hurt. It had crossed his mind that he might not have noticed one of the White Wolves attacking one of his friends while he had been fighting for his life. "Steve! Steve, how's Dinsdell?"
Walking the diminutive being over now that the danger had passed, Weaver clapped a hand on their guest's shoulder. "Fine, fine. Maybe a little weak in the knees. Captain, there's still five of those wolfman things whatever they are loose on the island."
"With our abilities, we should be able to round them up and return them to Zimborlin. Then we will send Dinsdell back but to to a different arrival point," Bane said. He caught sight of Gornak still wading in the ocean, crestfallen and head lowered. "Wait a minute. Hey, Gornak, it's okay, get over here."
With slow reluctant steps, wings folded, the Kulan obeyed. "I have broken my vow, captain. I must be cast back into Fanedral to be tortured."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Bane told him. "Those are animals without speech, I don't think they fall under the prohibition of your vow. And you did save my life. I have to admit that tackling a dozen White Wolves barehanded was a little too much for me to handle."
That made Ted Wright laugh out loud. "Jeremy, it was worth the moment of fear and worry just to hear you admit that!"
11/19/2018
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