"Spawn of Draldros"
May. 28th, 2022 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Spawn of Draldros"
7/21- 7/22/1979
Dr Vincent Cafaldo looked from Hawk to the patient in the bed and back again. "Do you recognize him?"
Michael Hawk did not answer at once. He studied the young man who lay with flushed skin under the fluorescent lights. "I've never met him before. What's the story?"
At one in the morning, the emergency room at St Theresa's had its lights dimmed and everyone spoke in hushed tones. It was a quiet night and not all the beds were occupied. "It's a strange situation. This young man dragged himself into the emergency room an hour ago, struggling to remain conscious. While still in the lobby, he sank into this comatose state and has been there ever since. No response to treatment. Blood work offers no clues. Pupils are dilated, breathing is shallow, blood pressure low at 105 over 70. All we could do is give him an IV and keep him comfortable."
Hawk turned back to the doctor. "Any ID?"
"Nothing. No driver's license, no Social Security card. But he had a lot of bizarre items on him. I remember the last time we met, Michael. The TarJack case when we had the suspect here and you showed just as he was trying to escape with a hostage. You told me to call you if anything weird turned up here and I thought it was worth bothering you, even at this hour."
Hawk smiled dryly. He had a square, weathered face under greying dark hair. He was wearing a tan windbreaker over a blue work shirt, with worn jeans and cowboy boots. "You didn't wake me, Vince. I was just getting in when you called." The famous criminologist rubbed his lower face thoughtfully. "Tell you what, you go about your business for now. I'll look through his effects, especially the bizarre items you mentioned and I'll you what I conclude. Okay?"
Cafaldo let out a breath. "Thanks, Michael. I feel better knowing you're looking into this. Have the nurse at the desk page me if there's any change." He handed Hawk a plastic box he had been holding and left.
"Will do," Hawk said and walked over to the bed. The man lying there was young, maybe twenty or twenty-one. Hawk estimated him at six feet tall, one hundred and seventy pounds. The patient had the long hard build of a runner. His short hair was black, he had a narrow, serious face. Hawk thumbed open one eye and saw the irises were a startling light grey. The IV was dripping a saline solution into one arm. Something about those eyes tickled Hawk's memory, he had heard something about an underworld tough guy with black hair and grey eyes. Hawk went to the chair upon which the man's clothes were piled. Everything was black... short boots, socks, slacks, long-sleeved turtleneck. A black sport jacket was draped over the back of the chair.
The criminologist opened the shallow plastic box in which the patient's effects had been placed and he pulled out two throwing knives in stiff leather sheaths with four thin straps. He pulled out one of the daggers and saw the blades were not steel but silver. That was odd. Silver was softer and heavier than steel, not mention more expensive. There was a tiny arrow on a chain, made of silver also. A detachable holster held a .38 Smith and Wesson. There was a worn wallet holding one hundred and twenty dollars in twenties, but no identification at all. Hawk's frown deepened. He examined a wristwatch, nothing out of the ordinary, a key ring, and a cigarette lighter, all very commonplace. But those throwing knives.. they would have been worn on the forearms, the straps were too short for calves.
Suddenly Hawk had a name. Jeremy Bane. The Dire Wolf. Yes, a notorious bodyguard and interceptor. He had a reputation for being very dangerous, faster than any normal person, infamous for carrying two knives he could throw before a gunman could shoot. For the past two years, he had dropped mostly out of criminal circles to work for Kenneth Dred. Hawk clicked the plastic box shut. He was glad the doctor had called him. Wherever the Dire Wolf went, there were mysterious deaths and reports of unexplainable mayhem. He should call Kenneth Dred, he decided.
Hawk heard soft footsteps approach and his long experience made him instantly alert. Bane's bed had curtains pulled on either side but the front had been left open. A young girl stuck her head in and said, "There he is!" She was no more than nineteen, quite pretty with long black hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a white sweater and jeans. Not seeming to notice Hawk, she came in to lean over the comatose man.
"Oh, Jeremy, look at you," she said breathlessly. She looked up at Hawk and her eyes seemed to flash for an instant as he felt the strangest sensation in his head. For a second, he was dazed. "You. You're Michael Hawk, the famous manhunter."
"And you are...?"
"My name is Katherine Wheatley. What's wrong with Jeremy? Why can't I contact him?"
"Contact him. What do you mean?"
She sighed impatiently. "I'm a true telepath, Mr Hawk. Yes, I can read minds. Let's see, you had just unlocked your door when the phone rang and Dr... Cafaldo? Dr Cafaldo asked you to come here. You are interested in the silver daggers because they hint at the supernatural. Enough? You're convinced now."
"I reckon so," he said. "The doctor said your friend crawled in here and collapsed. Is he on any medication? Street drugs?"
"Who, Jeremy? No, not at all." She touched his forehead with her wrist. "He seems feverish but his skin is cool.I don't understand." She straightened up. "You have a strong, honest mind. I'm going to trust you. Do you know who Kenneth Dred was?"
"Oh yes. We've met a few times. What do you mean, 'was?' "
"He died last week. Heart failure in his sleep. Jeremy and I acted for him as field agents. You know about the Midnight War. Yes, I can see you do. We have been tracking down threats the authorities can't handle or won't admit even exist. Now that Mr Dred is gone, Jeremy has inherited everything and he wants to carry on the work. Look at him. Has he been poisoned?"
"Not according to the blood work the hospital did, but of course there are a lot of exotic poisons out there that wouldn't show up. Was he investigating anything at the moment?"
Katherine hesitated. "Not that I know of. But he was gone the last day. He didn't tell me what he was up to. I started searching for him tonight because I was worried and his mind led me here. And look how I found him. I don't know what to do!"
Both Katherine and Hawk froze at a sudden overwhelming presence near them. Taller than a tall man, bundled up so nothing could be seen of him, a strange figure loomed up behind the young girl. She gasped, "Khang!"
II.
Despite himself, Hawk gave a start and his hand darted back to the pistol at the small of his back. But he did not feel threatened and the way the girl reacted indicated she was glad to see the newcomer. Khang stood well over seven feet tall, wide enough to fill a doorway. He was wrapped in a long topcoat, scarf, gloves and hat pulled low. As he stepped past the curtain, Hawk felt an unfamiliar sensation of awe, almost a religious reaction. He suddenly felt small and weak next to this stranger whose power was far greater than size alone would indicate.
"Wait. How did you get in here? Didn't security stop you?"
"No man may hinder me," came a deep resonant voice that seemed to echo from all directions at once. "Katherine, my perception called me here. I felt your distress."
"I'm glad to see you, Khang. Look at Jeremy! What's wrong with him?"
The giant took one immense stride and towered over the figure on the bed. "This is no natural ailment. He has been stricken by a spell. Some malignant curse is at work." He turned to gaze at Michael Hawk, and a glint of metal could be glimpsed between the upturned collar and the downturned hat. "I feel you can be trusted. In your own way, you work for the same cause we do. Stand well back."
He peeled off a glove to reveal a huge hand that seemed to be made of flexible silver, bending as naturally as a hand of flesh and blood would. Khang reached down to almost touch the comatose Dire Wolf. A brilliant spark, so bright it left an after-imaged leaped from the index finger to Bane's forehead and there was a sharp crackle. Bane took a deep shuddering breath, stirred and almost sat up. Beads of sweat broke out on his face, then he settled back, breathing normally.
"It is well," Khang rumbled. "Against natural illness, my charge has no effect but it is a sure counter to the powers of darkness. Jeremy lives and will awaken when he is stronger."
A male nurse appeared, saying "Everything all right in here? I heard something." Hawk dismissed him and turned back to Khang.
The giant silver man had lowered himself to one of the chairs, with Katherine standing beside him. "I recognize that aura," he said. "It emanates from the Dark Lord himself, the Dream of Doom. Draldros. Why he has attacked Jeremy now must have something to do with his spawn, Armidros."
Watching Khang, Hawk thought of the wild rumours he had heard the past month. A huge man made of metal, who could not be killed, who ripped car doors off and crushed guns in his hands. Now he understood. "This Draldros you mention. He's the one who put your friend in that coma?"
"I have said it. Jeremy was searching for the one called Armidros, and that hell-child's father intervened."
Hawk surprised himself. "I want to help. This Armidros, does he have any henchmen? Any servants?"
"In a sense, yes." Khang looked up. "He is tended by some of the Darthim. Here, in this very city, a Darthan Kje lurks and brings Armidros whatever he needs. In a hidden room is a shrine to the Dark Lord." The giant rose to his full height. "By my Source, I shall go there now and slay him for what his master has done!"
"Whoa, hold on there. Then what? You kill the servant and the boss gets away unhurt. Tell you what. Give me the address and I'll do a recon. I'll look for information that might lead us to this Armidros."
The silver man was silent for a long moment. "There will be danger but I see you are a man accustomed to peril."
Katherine broke in. "Khang, this is Michael Hawk. He's been trapping criminals for forty years. We can count on him."
"I have come to trust your judgement," Khang told her. "Very well. Jeremy will awaken soon. You and I shall wait here and bring him home. As for you, Michael Hawk, I commend your courage and accept your offer. We will stand together."
III.
A little over an hour later, Hawk closed a window behind him and stood silently in a darkened room. This was Canal Street in Chinatown, the third floor of a dingy building with a restaurant and a gift shop at street level. There had been no alarms he could detect, which left him uneasy. As his night vision returned, the criminologist was unhappy to realize it just was not as sharp as it used to be. Hitting sixty, he found everything declining slowly but perceptibly. Straining his ears, he detected deep slow breathing from the other side of the room. He could just make out a white couch in the gloom and a reclining shape upon it. There was a pungent odor of incense in the air.
From where he stood, Hawk drew an airgun with a thick barrel and fired once. It made a low, barely audible cough and the figure on the couch twitched but did not move beyond that. Slowly, Hawk moved forward and could not find anyone else in that room. Taking a chance, he took a pencil flashlight from his windbreaker and swept a thin strand of light around the room. Satisfied there was no one else, he checked the tiny bathroom and kitchen. There was no bedroom. With the heavy curtains drawn, he made sure the door was locked before he turned on a lamp on a stand by the couch.
The strangest looking man he had ever seen was stretched out on that couch beneath a thin sheet. The anesthetic dart still stuck up from his neck, and Hawk retrieved it. With luck, the man would wake up in a few hours and never know what had happened. Hawk studied the man in fascinated horror.
This was what Khang had called a Dartha. The man was tall and thin, almost painfully so. His skin was white, not a normal color but the same white as a piece of chalk. So was the long, fine-textured hair. The face was long and narrow, the nose and chin sharp and the lobeless ears rose to distinct points. Hawk had never seen anyone like this. He gently thumbed an eye open and saw the irises were dark green. Not an albino, then.
Was it all true? Were there other, non-human Races alive in the world? Kenneth Dred had told him of the Seven Races, the Cousins of Men, and Hawk had been skeptical. But this man, if he were not isolated freak, was hard to explain. Hawk began to look around the room. It was almost bare, with no TV or radio, only a suitcase and a travel bag in one corner to show anyone was staying here. On the coffee table, two metal dishes with ash in them showed where that incense odor originated. Between them sat a thick, wood-bound book, with metal clasps that were unlocked. He sank to his knees and examined it. The brittle yellowed pages were filled with writing in a flowing, dense script that was completely unfamiliar to him. Pages were missing, and a few scraps of paper were tucked toward the back. Receipts. One for payment on this apartment to the Huan Realtor Association, one for takeout from the Happy Rose Cafe and a phone bill with the address 17 SOUTH ROAD, ELMKILL NY 84-7412. Perfect. Hawk memorized every detail instantly and left the book as he had found it. Twenty more minutes searching turned up nothing beyond the fact that this Dartha ate Chinese food and liked dry rose wine. There was no ID he could find, and no weapons.
Making sure he had left no sign of his presence, the manhunter peered out the window, saw no one in sight and squeezed out onto the fire escape. He dropped down to the side street, freezing as a lone car went by with loud music booming from it, and trotted around the corner to where his Jeep was parked. He pulled out and headed north. The streets were almost deserted at three-fifteen and he parked on East 38th Street opposite a quiet nine story building where he had been before. Several lights were on and the door opened as he put his foot on the bottom step.
Khang motioned him in and closed the door behind them. He was still concealed in his heavy clothing and he held up a gloved finger. "Everyone sleeps. Jeremy was awake for the trip here but he is still weak. Katherine is in her room on the second floor. She is but a child in my eyes, and she has been under great stress this day."
Hawk answered in a low voice. "I have a clue where this Armidros might be. When everyone is up, I'll explain." He yawned and shook his head. "But to tell the truth, I need a few winks myself. I used to be able to work for 48 hours without sleep but I guess I am getting old after all."
Opening a door to the left, Khang flicked on a switch to reveal a reception room with a long leather couch. "Take a well-earned rest, Michael. I need no sleep. I shall stand guard until the new day and then we will have our council of war."
Striding over to the couch, Hawk plopped down and began tugging at his boots. "Glad you understand, Khang."
III.
The welcome smell of bacon cooking woke Hawk. He stirred, checked his watch and saw it was eight-thirty. Yawning and scratching, he sat up and grudgingly put his boots back on but left his windbreaker draped over the couch. He got up and stretched and saw Katherine Wheatley appear in the doorway.
"Hello there," she said. Her hair was tied up at the back of her head. She was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt and white jeans and was barefoot. "Good to see you, Michael."
"You can call me Mike. How's our Dire Wolf?"
She smiled. "Come and see for yourself." The young telepath led him past a wide staircase going upstairs to the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor. He had been here once before when visiting Kenneth Dred and the memory made him flinch as he remember that Dred was gone now. Well, he had been almost eighty. Katherine had mentioned that Bane had inherited the building, but then Dred had had no family. They walked into a clean, bright kitchen where Jeremy Bane was shoveling bacon and scrambled eggs onto plates. He nodded to Hawk. "Good morning. Katherine told me what happened last night. Thanks for your concern."
Hawk came over and Bane handed him a plate. As he sat down and dug in, he watched the young man. The famous Dire Wolf. Bane had a strong presence, Hawk realized, he dominated a situation without trying. As he studied Bane, Hawk was reminded of himself when he had set out to save the world but he admitted the Dire Wolf was fiercer, more energetic, more driven. Katherine sat opposite him, pouring orange juice into tumblers and offering him one.
"Where's the big guy?" he asked.
"In the library," she smiled. "He doesn't eat or sleep, so he spends a lot of time there."
"What is he REALLY, anyway? Doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Is he really made of metal like it seems?"
Bane answered as he sat down with a huge amount of eggs and bacon. "Khang is hard to explain. I didn't believe he was real until I met him and I still have doubts sometimes." Between mouthfuls, he continued, "You knew Mr Dred, hey?"
"Yes. We worked together three or four times. I'm sorry to hear he has passed on."
Bane looked away. "Thanks. Yeah, well, it was no surprise, I guess. He was failing toward the end. He called me his protege, he wanted me to carry on his work after he was gone. I intend to do so." He cleaned his plate and stood up. "I've heard of you, Mr Hawk. Raised by a family of crimefighters, your uncle Arthur and his partner Chen Lee-Sun."
Hawk had one more strip of bacon left. He felt back to normal now. "I suppose we were bound to cross paths sooner or later. How do you feel? Any effects from last night?"
"I bounce back pretty fast." Bane turned as Katherine handed him the empty plates and glasses and he left them soaking in hot sudsy water. "Listen, let's get going. We'll meet with Khang upstairs and figure out our next move." He led them up the staircase to the second floor. Khang was emerging from a doorway there and Bane gestured for everyone to go into the conference room. This was big, high-ceiling, with shelves of reference books and filing cabinets. A long oak table with twelve chairs took up most of the floor space and the Dire Wolf moved to the head of that table.
"Everyone take a seat," he said. It was strange how someone so young just easily took charge. Katherine and Hawk flanked Bane, while Khang lowered himself into the chair at the far end of the table. For a long moment, Bane watched everyone thoughtfully. He had not told anyone about his plan to assemble a team to fight the Midnight War. In Katherine Wheatley and Khang, he already had two candidates. Now he regarded the famous Michael Hawk with interest. the man would be a valuable addition. But first, the matter at hand. "Mike, Khang tells me you did a recon last night.
"Yep." He recounted what had happened, describing the Dartha and the mysterious book and the helpful clues. "It went so easy I half expect it to be a trap, to be honest."
"That book was THE REVELATIONS OF TOLLINOR," Bane said. "It's lucky you didn't take it, that thing brings a curse on everyone it touches. I suspect that apartment did have mystic defense but you didn't trigger them because you have no occult powers yourself. Everything went better than I might have expected."
"Glad to hear it. I know vaguely where Elmkill is, about two hours drive north of here. Just outside Poughkeepsie. Heading there is our next step, don't you think?"
"Exactly," Bane said with a predatory grin. "This Armidros tried to kill me with that curse and I need to have a few words with him...."
IV.
At just before noon, a white Jeep Cherokee eased to a stop beside a country road. Michael Hawk shut the motor off and raised his sunglasses to take a look around. It had been a long drive up from Manhattan. A few minutes earlier, they had pulled into a diner for bathroom break and to make final plans. At the end of the lane ahead he saw pleasant two story house, white board construction with a blue shingle roof. There was a small front yard with lilac bushes and a well-kept lawn. A stone patio had two lawn chairs and a round table. The back yard merged into a woods with pine trees and white birch. It looked almost like a postcard of a charming rural scene but every sense Hawk possessed was screaming danger.
He glanced over at Bane. During the drive, he realized, this Dire Wolf kid had learned everything about Hawk's background and training while giving away very little of himself. He had already known somehow that Hawk's uncle Robert had been the Sting and Chen Lee-Sun had been the Dragon of Midnight. He had known about Hawk's grandfather being a federal Marshall in the closing days of the Old West, and he had known how Michael Hawk himself had been raised under training from a dozen experts in various crime-fighting fields. But Hawk knew little more about Bane now than he had at the start.
From the back seat, Katherine Wheatley said, "I have a very bad feeling, boys. This place reeks of hatred and anger. It's soaked into the air." The young telepath looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "Whew. It's pushing me away."
"The girl is right," rumbled Khang next to her. "My own senses warn me. There is great evil here. Armidros, beyond a doubt."
"All that just mwans we're in the right place," Bane said impatiently. "Kath, do you pick up any minds in the house?"
After a few seconds, she answered, "No. There are people nearby, though. Oh, they're beastly men, too. "
As Khang opened his door, he said, "Armidros is the spawn of a Human witch and the essence of Draldros. Half Human, half Halarim spirit, his power may match my own. I cannot say what form he might have taken. But this I know. He will see beyond flesh to the emotions beneath. If you feel fear, he will seize it and use it against you."
"Right, right," said the Dire Wolf. "Here's our plan. Mike, you have the training and experience. I want you to search that house. In case we don't find this Armidros freak, I hope you turn up clues to help us in the next move. I will prowl the area and take care of any Darthim or Human henchmen. I'll try to bring them in for questioning. Khang, obviously, you're our big gun. Armridros himself is your playmate. Katherine will co-ordinate us with her powers but-" and he turned his head to look at her-"she will remain here out of harm's way. Anyone have questions?"
No one did. Hawk looked unhappy at getting orders from someone almost forty years younger but he kept it to himself for the moment. The three men stepped out of the Jeep, and moved off. Katherine Wheatley got out, stretched and walked back and forth a bit before getting back in and winding the window down. She had changed to sneakers, white jeans and a thin beige blouse that buttoned down the front. From her handbag she took a pair of oversized sunglasses and put them on, then settled back to wait. She watched Khang stride further down the road, to where it ended and a mere footpath began. Hawk approached the house warily and went around behind it. She had lost sight of Jeremy. This made her smile ruefully. How the lad did it was behind her, but he could take a few steps behind a tree or around a corner and just not be seen anymore. He was a natural prowler and the all black outfit helped.
In fact, the Dire Wolf was already trotting quickly into the woods, moving silently and peering in all directions. He had no training in woodcraft, but he was innately stealthy and nimble. Behind a thick oak tree, he stopped and listened. Someone had cleared his throat nearby. Bane squatted down and slowly peered around the tree. There. Not fifty feet away, two Darthim stood with their backs to him. They were wearing regular street clothes, neat black business suits but that white hair and white skin and pointed ears were hopeless to disguise.
Bane watched and listened but picked up no hints of anyone else. He stepped out from behind the oak, crouched slightly and plunged right onto the two Darthim. His movements could hardly be seen even by someone looking right at him, and when he attacked without warning, very few living things could react in time. The Dire Wolf gave the closer Dartha a vicious kidney punch that started from way back and connected as if he intended his fist to go right through the man. As that Dartha doubled up with a grunt of agony, the second had just started to turn when an uppercut whipped up almost from the ground. The white-skinned warlock had one foot leave the ground as he arched up and fell over backwards. Both bodies hit the dirt at the same instant, while Bane wheeled to check in all directions. No sign of anyone else. He smiled thinly and rubbed his hands together to keep them from getting stiff after those full-power punches. Bending, he seized the Darthim by the collars and started tugging them back toward where Hawk's jeep waited. Still peering about warily, he also keep any eye on the twounconscious men who showed no signs they would revive anytime soon.
V.
As he crept up to the quiet house, Hawk began to feel more and more angry. Who was this Bane kid to be giving him orders like that? Did he have an international reputation? Was he called in to consult with the FBI, with Scotland Yard, with Interpol? Of course not.Hawk stopped before entering the house and stood with fists on hips as he tried to get hold of himself. Maybe Kenneth Dred had been impressed with this Dire Wolf boy but that didn't mean he was automatically put in charge of everything. No, there had be a clear understanding before he could work with this Bane. Taking a deep breath, the criminologist swung away from the house and trotted across the back yard into the woods that bordered the property. There would be time to search the house later. Right now, he decided that locating any enemy in the area took precedence.
Not far away, the thing which was Armidros, sired by the power of Draldros and birthed by a mortal woman, rose from the mossy ledge over a puddle where he had been brooding. He sensed intruders were entering his realm. Had they learned it was he who had sent the curse to the Dire Wolf? No matter. Let them come and save him the trouble of hunting them down. Armidros rose and strode forward, and where he set his foot, the grass turned brown and died.
Heading unwittingly straight toward Armidros, Hawk raced easily through the woods. He had been in training all his life, so far he had no signs of arthritis or stiffness. The only effect of middle age seemed to be a more cautious attitude, a more deliberate approach. Hawk slowed and realized what was troubling him. It was early afternoon in July, yet in the past few minutes, a noticeable chill had come into the air. It felt like early winter somehow. He came to an uneasy halt and felt himself shudder. Too many unexplainable things had been happening lately to fully digest.
To his left came a faint rustle of someone stepping on a leaf. Not as obvious as a twig snapping but he could still tell it had been deliberate. Hawk spun and spotted Armidros. A haze blurred the Changeling's form so he could not make out details well, but the criminologist felt a surge of dread and repulsion. What WAS that red haze around this man? He could vaguely see a tall blonde man in white clothing but that was all. Hawk stared, feeling drawn to try to see more...
Armidros rushed swiftly toward him, and the spell was broken. Hawk's hand came up with the air pistol and it spat three of the anesthetic darts his uncle had perfected as the Sting. They stuck into the Changeling's skin for a second, then dropped off without effect. He was almost upon the criminologist. Hawk holstered the gun, leaped to meet the enemy with a straight side kick that Armidros caught by the ankle with both hands, yanking upward and getting the manhunter completely off-balance.
A jolt of terrible freezing pain ran up that leg and almost stopped Hawk's heart. He cried out and sagged limply to the ground as Armidros released him. The Changeling stood over the stunned form for a long moment, on the verge of finishing him, before turning away with a cruel smile. This Human had been already angry and it had been easy for Armidros to stimulate that anger, to make him impatient and careless. Finding weakness in people was his gift. The creature turned away from the unconscious man. Later. First the other victims waited.
VI.
Katherine Wheatley had finally gotten down out of the Jeep and started walking up and down. She was having so much trouble following the thoughts in the area that she had concluded there was some deliberate intereference. It was like trying to listen to the radio when there was static. The young telepath stood with arms folded and closed her eyes. How strange. She was not picking up any feeling of danger or menace, as she had expected. Instead, she felt comfortable and even relaxed. Maybe the boys were wrong. Who knew, maybe this was not even the place where they should be looking for this Armidros character, the area looked so pleasant and peaceful. But suddenly she jumped.
A young man was walking placidly through the yard, up to the road where she stood. She had not felt his presence. That was odd. He was tall, a bit over six feet, slim, with blond shaggy hair and an open friendly face. Katherine found him very attractive in a response she seldom felt. There was an almost childlike innocence in his face that fascinated her.
Getting hold of herself, Katherine reached out into his mind. There were no defenses, not even the usual restraints average people used to discipline their thoughts. This young man was so sweet and trusting that he seemed way too good to be true, but there he was and she could find nothing to contradict that.
"Hi," he sang out cheerfully. "Can I help you?"
"Have you seen my friends?"
The blond man came to stand next to her, grinning easily. "Oh, I have to tell you I know all about Khang."
"WHAT?" she blurted out. "Then you- you are the one they're looking for."
He raised a finger in admonishment. "There's something Khang hasn't told you. In fact, there's a lot you don't know about him. I have been sent to replace him. The Powers That Be feel he was a mistake."
"Oh no you don't. You're the son of Draldros. You're a hell-child trying to deceive me."
"Did he tell you that?" He seemed genuinely hurt. "That's so wrong. Of course he doesn't want to step down. But after all, you have to admit he's too intimidating to do his job well. How can he get people to trust him? He's just scary. A giant silver man, that was a mistake."
It all made sense, she thought hastily. She had often wondered why Khang was so terrifying to the very people he was intended to help. Her telepathic senses confirmed he was telling the truth and she had never been wrong before. Besides, she thought, just look at him. He was like a California surfer, tanned and healthy and open.
"Wait, give me a second to think," she began but he had already stepped closer to her. She looked into those clear blue eyes and saw the same restless swirling energy she felt around Khang, energy that drew her in, that grew to fill her consciousness. The golden hands reached up toward her face....
"Stand away from her!" boomed a voice like thunder, making her start and fall back against the Jeep in fright. Khang! In that instant, a red spark flashed in Armidros' eyes and the veneer of kindness fell away from his mind like tissue. The blasphemous hatred and venom within lashed out into Katherine's mind with withering effect. He slapped her hard with a backhand that split her lip and sent her reeling a few steps to fall to her knees.
The silver man stormed up the path, his clothing discarded and his metallic form literally shining with visible energy that moved like flame. He reached down to steady Katherine, helping her gently to her feet. She told him what had happened in a burst of emotion that was half verbal, half telepathic. Armidros did not move. "Go down behind the road out of sight," Khang rumbled. "It is for me to deal with this unholy creature."
As the girl ran frantically away, Khang raised an angry fist. "Do not think to deceive me as you did her. I see your spirit, not your shell of flesh."
Armidros laughed happily. "You still don't understand, do you? You have met your match and more. I am indeed the son of Great Draldros, and I am going to kill you."
"Brave words indeed." The giant silver man raised his open hands. "Let us test them."
The Changeling reached to clasp those hands and instantly a roaring fireball of gralic energy flared up between them. Lurid deep red flame clashed with pitiless white light, casting deep shadows in all directions. Unspeaking, unmoving, Khang and Armidros thrust their forces against each other. The nimbus where the two energies struggled grew brighter, intolerable to any who might have been watching. Then a sudden blast of thunder detonated that echoed for miles and both opponents fell to the ground with steam rising from their bodies.
Khang lay prone, face-down, his strange eye-slots dimmed for the first time since his creation. Almost within reach, Armidros rolled over and sat up as if waking from a nap. He chuckled. "Old fool. Your Master has failed. This is MY hour now."
Slowly, painfully, the silver man raised himself up on one elbow. His featureless head hung down weakly. "Wrong. So wrong. Hear me, Armidros. We were roughly equal. I have given up most of my gralic charge to drive out all of yours."
"So what? I seem to be the one on my feet, you big clown."
Khang lifted his head. The inner glow was returning to his eyes. "You do not realize the difference between us. I was not sired by Jordyn. I was a mortal Man granted a duty and a trust. I can always be given more power as I need it. Not you. You were spawned in an abominable deed and the power that was yours at birth is all you may ever possess."
"No! You're lying!" Armidros screamed. He kicked viciously at Khang's head but only hurt his foot. The silver man placed his palms down in the dirt and began to lift his upper body, but sagged down again.
"I do not lie," Khang rumbled. "You do not have much time left."
Armridros turned, almost falling, and stumbled through the yard down toward the house. He could not summon any gralic bolts. This had to be temporary, it could not be the end for him. The Changeling made it to the small patio by the house and tried to clear his head. Where were his servants? Where were the Darthim who had swore to protect him? "Alina? Fandir?"
From around the corner of the house stepped a thin young man dressed all in black, and Armidros felt fear strike his heart for the first time in his short life. It was his gift of perception that worked against him now. He had perceived the trust in the heart of that girl, he had perceived the anger in the grey haired man with the dart gun, and he had used those to his advantage. But now his inhuman mind reached for weakness, for fear or uncertainty, and in the mind of Jeremy Bane, he found none of those. The Dire Wolf regarded him with the terrible calm gaze of a predator staring down his prey.
"My friend Hawk is going to be okay," Bane said quietly, standing with his arms folded. "He was dazed but he's tough. And I see Khang is getting to his feet up there. But you and I have things to settle." In those grey eyes was only cold determination. "I owe you for that coma you put me in last night, blondie."
As he spoke, Bane straightened his arms and in each hand was one of the silver bladed daggers. To Armidros, those knives shone with clear unbearable light. Silver was harmful by itself to his kind, and those blades had been ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin so that he could barely stand to look at them. He backed up a few steps, then turned his head to look behind him.
The girl had come down through the yard and was standing almost within arm's reach. Blood showed on her lip and her dark blue eyes fixed on him strangely. "You lied to me," she said in a voice reinforced by her telepathic powers. There were tears in her eyes now. "I was never deceived in my life until I met you. I hate you. I wish you were dead!"
Armridros clapped his hands to his face and shrieked, convulsing and falling straight down. His head bounced as it struck the ground. Bane stepped closer, turned the head to one side and saw the open staring eyes. "Whoa. He's dead, all right," he said callously as he stood up.
"Oh, my God.." breathed Katherine. She threw herself on Bane, wrapping both arms around him and sobbing with her whole body. "I didn't mean to kill him, Jeremy, I swear I didn't."
["Spawn of Ahriman, 12/1969; rev 6/2/2013]
7/21- 7/22/1979
Dr Vincent Cafaldo looked from Hawk to the patient in the bed and back again. "Do you recognize him?"
Michael Hawk did not answer at once. He studied the young man who lay with flushed skin under the fluorescent lights. "I've never met him before. What's the story?"
At one in the morning, the emergency room at St Theresa's had its lights dimmed and everyone spoke in hushed tones. It was a quiet night and not all the beds were occupied. "It's a strange situation. This young man dragged himself into the emergency room an hour ago, struggling to remain conscious. While still in the lobby, he sank into this comatose state and has been there ever since. No response to treatment. Blood work offers no clues. Pupils are dilated, breathing is shallow, blood pressure low at 105 over 70. All we could do is give him an IV and keep him comfortable."
Hawk turned back to the doctor. "Any ID?"
"Nothing. No driver's license, no Social Security card. But he had a lot of bizarre items on him. I remember the last time we met, Michael. The TarJack case when we had the suspect here and you showed just as he was trying to escape with a hostage. You told me to call you if anything weird turned up here and I thought it was worth bothering you, even at this hour."
Hawk smiled dryly. He had a square, weathered face under greying dark hair. He was wearing a tan windbreaker over a blue work shirt, with worn jeans and cowboy boots. "You didn't wake me, Vince. I was just getting in when you called." The famous criminologist rubbed his lower face thoughtfully. "Tell you what, you go about your business for now. I'll look through his effects, especially the bizarre items you mentioned and I'll you what I conclude. Okay?"
Cafaldo let out a breath. "Thanks, Michael. I feel better knowing you're looking into this. Have the nurse at the desk page me if there's any change." He handed Hawk a plastic box he had been holding and left.
"Will do," Hawk said and walked over to the bed. The man lying there was young, maybe twenty or twenty-one. Hawk estimated him at six feet tall, one hundred and seventy pounds. The patient had the long hard build of a runner. His short hair was black, he had a narrow, serious face. Hawk thumbed open one eye and saw the irises were a startling light grey. The IV was dripping a saline solution into one arm. Something about those eyes tickled Hawk's memory, he had heard something about an underworld tough guy with black hair and grey eyes. Hawk went to the chair upon which the man's clothes were piled. Everything was black... short boots, socks, slacks, long-sleeved turtleneck. A black sport jacket was draped over the back of the chair.
The criminologist opened the shallow plastic box in which the patient's effects had been placed and he pulled out two throwing knives in stiff leather sheaths with four thin straps. He pulled out one of the daggers and saw the blades were not steel but silver. That was odd. Silver was softer and heavier than steel, not mention more expensive. There was a tiny arrow on a chain, made of silver also. A detachable holster held a .38 Smith and Wesson. There was a worn wallet holding one hundred and twenty dollars in twenties, but no identification at all. Hawk's frown deepened. He examined a wristwatch, nothing out of the ordinary, a key ring, and a cigarette lighter, all very commonplace. But those throwing knives.. they would have been worn on the forearms, the straps were too short for calves.
Suddenly Hawk had a name. Jeremy Bane. The Dire Wolf. Yes, a notorious bodyguard and interceptor. He had a reputation for being very dangerous, faster than any normal person, infamous for carrying two knives he could throw before a gunman could shoot. For the past two years, he had dropped mostly out of criminal circles to work for Kenneth Dred. Hawk clicked the plastic box shut. He was glad the doctor had called him. Wherever the Dire Wolf went, there were mysterious deaths and reports of unexplainable mayhem. He should call Kenneth Dred, he decided.
Hawk heard soft footsteps approach and his long experience made him instantly alert. Bane's bed had curtains pulled on either side but the front had been left open. A young girl stuck her head in and said, "There he is!" She was no more than nineteen, quite pretty with long black hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a white sweater and jeans. Not seeming to notice Hawk, she came in to lean over the comatose man.
"Oh, Jeremy, look at you," she said breathlessly. She looked up at Hawk and her eyes seemed to flash for an instant as he felt the strangest sensation in his head. For a second, he was dazed. "You. You're Michael Hawk, the famous manhunter."
"And you are...?"
"My name is Katherine Wheatley. What's wrong with Jeremy? Why can't I contact him?"
"Contact him. What do you mean?"
She sighed impatiently. "I'm a true telepath, Mr Hawk. Yes, I can read minds. Let's see, you had just unlocked your door when the phone rang and Dr... Cafaldo? Dr Cafaldo asked you to come here. You are interested in the silver daggers because they hint at the supernatural. Enough? You're convinced now."
"I reckon so," he said. "The doctor said your friend crawled in here and collapsed. Is he on any medication? Street drugs?"
"Who, Jeremy? No, not at all." She touched his forehead with her wrist. "He seems feverish but his skin is cool.I don't understand." She straightened up. "You have a strong, honest mind. I'm going to trust you. Do you know who Kenneth Dred was?"
"Oh yes. We've met a few times. What do you mean, 'was?' "
"He died last week. Heart failure in his sleep. Jeremy and I acted for him as field agents. You know about the Midnight War. Yes, I can see you do. We have been tracking down threats the authorities can't handle or won't admit even exist. Now that Mr Dred is gone, Jeremy has inherited everything and he wants to carry on the work. Look at him. Has he been poisoned?"
"Not according to the blood work the hospital did, but of course there are a lot of exotic poisons out there that wouldn't show up. Was he investigating anything at the moment?"
Katherine hesitated. "Not that I know of. But he was gone the last day. He didn't tell me what he was up to. I started searching for him tonight because I was worried and his mind led me here. And look how I found him. I don't know what to do!"
Both Katherine and Hawk froze at a sudden overwhelming presence near them. Taller than a tall man, bundled up so nothing could be seen of him, a strange figure loomed up behind the young girl. She gasped, "Khang!"
II.
Despite himself, Hawk gave a start and his hand darted back to the pistol at the small of his back. But he did not feel threatened and the way the girl reacted indicated she was glad to see the newcomer. Khang stood well over seven feet tall, wide enough to fill a doorway. He was wrapped in a long topcoat, scarf, gloves and hat pulled low. As he stepped past the curtain, Hawk felt an unfamiliar sensation of awe, almost a religious reaction. He suddenly felt small and weak next to this stranger whose power was far greater than size alone would indicate.
"Wait. How did you get in here? Didn't security stop you?"
"No man may hinder me," came a deep resonant voice that seemed to echo from all directions at once. "Katherine, my perception called me here. I felt your distress."
"I'm glad to see you, Khang. Look at Jeremy! What's wrong with him?"
The giant took one immense stride and towered over the figure on the bed. "This is no natural ailment. He has been stricken by a spell. Some malignant curse is at work." He turned to gaze at Michael Hawk, and a glint of metal could be glimpsed between the upturned collar and the downturned hat. "I feel you can be trusted. In your own way, you work for the same cause we do. Stand well back."
He peeled off a glove to reveal a huge hand that seemed to be made of flexible silver, bending as naturally as a hand of flesh and blood would. Khang reached down to almost touch the comatose Dire Wolf. A brilliant spark, so bright it left an after-imaged leaped from the index finger to Bane's forehead and there was a sharp crackle. Bane took a deep shuddering breath, stirred and almost sat up. Beads of sweat broke out on his face, then he settled back, breathing normally.
"It is well," Khang rumbled. "Against natural illness, my charge has no effect but it is a sure counter to the powers of darkness. Jeremy lives and will awaken when he is stronger."
A male nurse appeared, saying "Everything all right in here? I heard something." Hawk dismissed him and turned back to Khang.
The giant silver man had lowered himself to one of the chairs, with Katherine standing beside him. "I recognize that aura," he said. "It emanates from the Dark Lord himself, the Dream of Doom. Draldros. Why he has attacked Jeremy now must have something to do with his spawn, Armidros."
Watching Khang, Hawk thought of the wild rumours he had heard the past month. A huge man made of metal, who could not be killed, who ripped car doors off and crushed guns in his hands. Now he understood. "This Draldros you mention. He's the one who put your friend in that coma?"
"I have said it. Jeremy was searching for the one called Armidros, and that hell-child's father intervened."
Hawk surprised himself. "I want to help. This Armidros, does he have any henchmen? Any servants?"
"In a sense, yes." Khang looked up. "He is tended by some of the Darthim. Here, in this very city, a Darthan Kje lurks and brings Armidros whatever he needs. In a hidden room is a shrine to the Dark Lord." The giant rose to his full height. "By my Source, I shall go there now and slay him for what his master has done!"
"Whoa, hold on there. Then what? You kill the servant and the boss gets away unhurt. Tell you what. Give me the address and I'll do a recon. I'll look for information that might lead us to this Armidros."
The silver man was silent for a long moment. "There will be danger but I see you are a man accustomed to peril."
Katherine broke in. "Khang, this is Michael Hawk. He's been trapping criminals for forty years. We can count on him."
"I have come to trust your judgement," Khang told her. "Very well. Jeremy will awaken soon. You and I shall wait here and bring him home. As for you, Michael Hawk, I commend your courage and accept your offer. We will stand together."
III.
A little over an hour later, Hawk closed a window behind him and stood silently in a darkened room. This was Canal Street in Chinatown, the third floor of a dingy building with a restaurant and a gift shop at street level. There had been no alarms he could detect, which left him uneasy. As his night vision returned, the criminologist was unhappy to realize it just was not as sharp as it used to be. Hitting sixty, he found everything declining slowly but perceptibly. Straining his ears, he detected deep slow breathing from the other side of the room. He could just make out a white couch in the gloom and a reclining shape upon it. There was a pungent odor of incense in the air.
From where he stood, Hawk drew an airgun with a thick barrel and fired once. It made a low, barely audible cough and the figure on the couch twitched but did not move beyond that. Slowly, Hawk moved forward and could not find anyone else in that room. Taking a chance, he took a pencil flashlight from his windbreaker and swept a thin strand of light around the room. Satisfied there was no one else, he checked the tiny bathroom and kitchen. There was no bedroom. With the heavy curtains drawn, he made sure the door was locked before he turned on a lamp on a stand by the couch.
The strangest looking man he had ever seen was stretched out on that couch beneath a thin sheet. The anesthetic dart still stuck up from his neck, and Hawk retrieved it. With luck, the man would wake up in a few hours and never know what had happened. Hawk studied the man in fascinated horror.
This was what Khang had called a Dartha. The man was tall and thin, almost painfully so. His skin was white, not a normal color but the same white as a piece of chalk. So was the long, fine-textured hair. The face was long and narrow, the nose and chin sharp and the lobeless ears rose to distinct points. Hawk had never seen anyone like this. He gently thumbed an eye open and saw the irises were dark green. Not an albino, then.
Was it all true? Were there other, non-human Races alive in the world? Kenneth Dred had told him of the Seven Races, the Cousins of Men, and Hawk had been skeptical. But this man, if he were not isolated freak, was hard to explain. Hawk began to look around the room. It was almost bare, with no TV or radio, only a suitcase and a travel bag in one corner to show anyone was staying here. On the coffee table, two metal dishes with ash in them showed where that incense odor originated. Between them sat a thick, wood-bound book, with metal clasps that were unlocked. He sank to his knees and examined it. The brittle yellowed pages were filled with writing in a flowing, dense script that was completely unfamiliar to him. Pages were missing, and a few scraps of paper were tucked toward the back. Receipts. One for payment on this apartment to the Huan Realtor Association, one for takeout from the Happy Rose Cafe and a phone bill with the address 17 SOUTH ROAD, ELMKILL NY 84-7412. Perfect. Hawk memorized every detail instantly and left the book as he had found it. Twenty more minutes searching turned up nothing beyond the fact that this Dartha ate Chinese food and liked dry rose wine. There was no ID he could find, and no weapons.
Making sure he had left no sign of his presence, the manhunter peered out the window, saw no one in sight and squeezed out onto the fire escape. He dropped down to the side street, freezing as a lone car went by with loud music booming from it, and trotted around the corner to where his Jeep was parked. He pulled out and headed north. The streets were almost deserted at three-fifteen and he parked on East 38th Street opposite a quiet nine story building where he had been before. Several lights were on and the door opened as he put his foot on the bottom step.
Khang motioned him in and closed the door behind them. He was still concealed in his heavy clothing and he held up a gloved finger. "Everyone sleeps. Jeremy was awake for the trip here but he is still weak. Katherine is in her room on the second floor. She is but a child in my eyes, and she has been under great stress this day."
Hawk answered in a low voice. "I have a clue where this Armidros might be. When everyone is up, I'll explain." He yawned and shook his head. "But to tell the truth, I need a few winks myself. I used to be able to work for 48 hours without sleep but I guess I am getting old after all."
Opening a door to the left, Khang flicked on a switch to reveal a reception room with a long leather couch. "Take a well-earned rest, Michael. I need no sleep. I shall stand guard until the new day and then we will have our council of war."
Striding over to the couch, Hawk plopped down and began tugging at his boots. "Glad you understand, Khang."
III.
The welcome smell of bacon cooking woke Hawk. He stirred, checked his watch and saw it was eight-thirty. Yawning and scratching, he sat up and grudgingly put his boots back on but left his windbreaker draped over the couch. He got up and stretched and saw Katherine Wheatley appear in the doorway.
"Hello there," she said. Her hair was tied up at the back of her head. She was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt and white jeans and was barefoot. "Good to see you, Michael."
"You can call me Mike. How's our Dire Wolf?"
She smiled. "Come and see for yourself." The young telepath led him past a wide staircase going upstairs to the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor. He had been here once before when visiting Kenneth Dred and the memory made him flinch as he remember that Dred was gone now. Well, he had been almost eighty. Katherine had mentioned that Bane had inherited the building, but then Dred had had no family. They walked into a clean, bright kitchen where Jeremy Bane was shoveling bacon and scrambled eggs onto plates. He nodded to Hawk. "Good morning. Katherine told me what happened last night. Thanks for your concern."
Hawk came over and Bane handed him a plate. As he sat down and dug in, he watched the young man. The famous Dire Wolf. Bane had a strong presence, Hawk realized, he dominated a situation without trying. As he studied Bane, Hawk was reminded of himself when he had set out to save the world but he admitted the Dire Wolf was fiercer, more energetic, more driven. Katherine sat opposite him, pouring orange juice into tumblers and offering him one.
"Where's the big guy?" he asked.
"In the library," she smiled. "He doesn't eat or sleep, so he spends a lot of time there."
"What is he REALLY, anyway? Doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Is he really made of metal like it seems?"
Bane answered as he sat down with a huge amount of eggs and bacon. "Khang is hard to explain. I didn't believe he was real until I met him and I still have doubts sometimes." Between mouthfuls, he continued, "You knew Mr Dred, hey?"
"Yes. We worked together three or four times. I'm sorry to hear he has passed on."
Bane looked away. "Thanks. Yeah, well, it was no surprise, I guess. He was failing toward the end. He called me his protege, he wanted me to carry on his work after he was gone. I intend to do so." He cleaned his plate and stood up. "I've heard of you, Mr Hawk. Raised by a family of crimefighters, your uncle Arthur and his partner Chen Lee-Sun."
Hawk had one more strip of bacon left. He felt back to normal now. "I suppose we were bound to cross paths sooner or later. How do you feel? Any effects from last night?"
"I bounce back pretty fast." Bane turned as Katherine handed him the empty plates and glasses and he left them soaking in hot sudsy water. "Listen, let's get going. We'll meet with Khang upstairs and figure out our next move." He led them up the staircase to the second floor. Khang was emerging from a doorway there and Bane gestured for everyone to go into the conference room. This was big, high-ceiling, with shelves of reference books and filing cabinets. A long oak table with twelve chairs took up most of the floor space and the Dire Wolf moved to the head of that table.
"Everyone take a seat," he said. It was strange how someone so young just easily took charge. Katherine and Hawk flanked Bane, while Khang lowered himself into the chair at the far end of the table. For a long moment, Bane watched everyone thoughtfully. He had not told anyone about his plan to assemble a team to fight the Midnight War. In Katherine Wheatley and Khang, he already had two candidates. Now he regarded the famous Michael Hawk with interest. the man would be a valuable addition. But first, the matter at hand. "Mike, Khang tells me you did a recon last night.
"Yep." He recounted what had happened, describing the Dartha and the mysterious book and the helpful clues. "It went so easy I half expect it to be a trap, to be honest."
"That book was THE REVELATIONS OF TOLLINOR," Bane said. "It's lucky you didn't take it, that thing brings a curse on everyone it touches. I suspect that apartment did have mystic defense but you didn't trigger them because you have no occult powers yourself. Everything went better than I might have expected."
"Glad to hear it. I know vaguely where Elmkill is, about two hours drive north of here. Just outside Poughkeepsie. Heading there is our next step, don't you think?"
"Exactly," Bane said with a predatory grin. "This Armidros tried to kill me with that curse and I need to have a few words with him...."
IV.
At just before noon, a white Jeep Cherokee eased to a stop beside a country road. Michael Hawk shut the motor off and raised his sunglasses to take a look around. It had been a long drive up from Manhattan. A few minutes earlier, they had pulled into a diner for bathroom break and to make final plans. At the end of the lane ahead he saw pleasant two story house, white board construction with a blue shingle roof. There was a small front yard with lilac bushes and a well-kept lawn. A stone patio had two lawn chairs and a round table. The back yard merged into a woods with pine trees and white birch. It looked almost like a postcard of a charming rural scene but every sense Hawk possessed was screaming danger.
He glanced over at Bane. During the drive, he realized, this Dire Wolf kid had learned everything about Hawk's background and training while giving away very little of himself. He had already known somehow that Hawk's uncle Robert had been the Sting and Chen Lee-Sun had been the Dragon of Midnight. He had known about Hawk's grandfather being a federal Marshall in the closing days of the Old West, and he had known how Michael Hawk himself had been raised under training from a dozen experts in various crime-fighting fields. But Hawk knew little more about Bane now than he had at the start.
From the back seat, Katherine Wheatley said, "I have a very bad feeling, boys. This place reeks of hatred and anger. It's soaked into the air." The young telepath looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "Whew. It's pushing me away."
"The girl is right," rumbled Khang next to her. "My own senses warn me. There is great evil here. Armidros, beyond a doubt."
"All that just mwans we're in the right place," Bane said impatiently. "Kath, do you pick up any minds in the house?"
After a few seconds, she answered, "No. There are people nearby, though. Oh, they're beastly men, too. "
As Khang opened his door, he said, "Armidros is the spawn of a Human witch and the essence of Draldros. Half Human, half Halarim spirit, his power may match my own. I cannot say what form he might have taken. But this I know. He will see beyond flesh to the emotions beneath. If you feel fear, he will seize it and use it against you."
"Right, right," said the Dire Wolf. "Here's our plan. Mike, you have the training and experience. I want you to search that house. In case we don't find this Armidros freak, I hope you turn up clues to help us in the next move. I will prowl the area and take care of any Darthim or Human henchmen. I'll try to bring them in for questioning. Khang, obviously, you're our big gun. Armridros himself is your playmate. Katherine will co-ordinate us with her powers but-" and he turned his head to look at her-"she will remain here out of harm's way. Anyone have questions?"
No one did. Hawk looked unhappy at getting orders from someone almost forty years younger but he kept it to himself for the moment. The three men stepped out of the Jeep, and moved off. Katherine Wheatley got out, stretched and walked back and forth a bit before getting back in and winding the window down. She had changed to sneakers, white jeans and a thin beige blouse that buttoned down the front. From her handbag she took a pair of oversized sunglasses and put them on, then settled back to wait. She watched Khang stride further down the road, to where it ended and a mere footpath began. Hawk approached the house warily and went around behind it. She had lost sight of Jeremy. This made her smile ruefully. How the lad did it was behind her, but he could take a few steps behind a tree or around a corner and just not be seen anymore. He was a natural prowler and the all black outfit helped.
In fact, the Dire Wolf was already trotting quickly into the woods, moving silently and peering in all directions. He had no training in woodcraft, but he was innately stealthy and nimble. Behind a thick oak tree, he stopped and listened. Someone had cleared his throat nearby. Bane squatted down and slowly peered around the tree. There. Not fifty feet away, two Darthim stood with their backs to him. They were wearing regular street clothes, neat black business suits but that white hair and white skin and pointed ears were hopeless to disguise.
Bane watched and listened but picked up no hints of anyone else. He stepped out from behind the oak, crouched slightly and plunged right onto the two Darthim. His movements could hardly be seen even by someone looking right at him, and when he attacked without warning, very few living things could react in time. The Dire Wolf gave the closer Dartha a vicious kidney punch that started from way back and connected as if he intended his fist to go right through the man. As that Dartha doubled up with a grunt of agony, the second had just started to turn when an uppercut whipped up almost from the ground. The white-skinned warlock had one foot leave the ground as he arched up and fell over backwards. Both bodies hit the dirt at the same instant, while Bane wheeled to check in all directions. No sign of anyone else. He smiled thinly and rubbed his hands together to keep them from getting stiff after those full-power punches. Bending, he seized the Darthim by the collars and started tugging them back toward where Hawk's jeep waited. Still peering about warily, he also keep any eye on the twounconscious men who showed no signs they would revive anytime soon.
V.
As he crept up to the quiet house, Hawk began to feel more and more angry. Who was this Bane kid to be giving him orders like that? Did he have an international reputation? Was he called in to consult with the FBI, with Scotland Yard, with Interpol? Of course not.Hawk stopped before entering the house and stood with fists on hips as he tried to get hold of himself. Maybe Kenneth Dred had been impressed with this Dire Wolf boy but that didn't mean he was automatically put in charge of everything. No, there had be a clear understanding before he could work with this Bane. Taking a deep breath, the criminologist swung away from the house and trotted across the back yard into the woods that bordered the property. There would be time to search the house later. Right now, he decided that locating any enemy in the area took precedence.
Not far away, the thing which was Armidros, sired by the power of Draldros and birthed by a mortal woman, rose from the mossy ledge over a puddle where he had been brooding. He sensed intruders were entering his realm. Had they learned it was he who had sent the curse to the Dire Wolf? No matter. Let them come and save him the trouble of hunting them down. Armidros rose and strode forward, and where he set his foot, the grass turned brown and died.
Heading unwittingly straight toward Armidros, Hawk raced easily through the woods. He had been in training all his life, so far he had no signs of arthritis or stiffness. The only effect of middle age seemed to be a more cautious attitude, a more deliberate approach. Hawk slowed and realized what was troubling him. It was early afternoon in July, yet in the past few minutes, a noticeable chill had come into the air. It felt like early winter somehow. He came to an uneasy halt and felt himself shudder. Too many unexplainable things had been happening lately to fully digest.
To his left came a faint rustle of someone stepping on a leaf. Not as obvious as a twig snapping but he could still tell it had been deliberate. Hawk spun and spotted Armidros. A haze blurred the Changeling's form so he could not make out details well, but the criminologist felt a surge of dread and repulsion. What WAS that red haze around this man? He could vaguely see a tall blonde man in white clothing but that was all. Hawk stared, feeling drawn to try to see more...
Armidros rushed swiftly toward him, and the spell was broken. Hawk's hand came up with the air pistol and it spat three of the anesthetic darts his uncle had perfected as the Sting. They stuck into the Changeling's skin for a second, then dropped off without effect. He was almost upon the criminologist. Hawk holstered the gun, leaped to meet the enemy with a straight side kick that Armidros caught by the ankle with both hands, yanking upward and getting the manhunter completely off-balance.
A jolt of terrible freezing pain ran up that leg and almost stopped Hawk's heart. He cried out and sagged limply to the ground as Armidros released him. The Changeling stood over the stunned form for a long moment, on the verge of finishing him, before turning away with a cruel smile. This Human had been already angry and it had been easy for Armidros to stimulate that anger, to make him impatient and careless. Finding weakness in people was his gift. The creature turned away from the unconscious man. Later. First the other victims waited.
VI.
Katherine Wheatley had finally gotten down out of the Jeep and started walking up and down. She was having so much trouble following the thoughts in the area that she had concluded there was some deliberate intereference. It was like trying to listen to the radio when there was static. The young telepath stood with arms folded and closed her eyes. How strange. She was not picking up any feeling of danger or menace, as she had expected. Instead, she felt comfortable and even relaxed. Maybe the boys were wrong. Who knew, maybe this was not even the place where they should be looking for this Armidros character, the area looked so pleasant and peaceful. But suddenly she jumped.
A young man was walking placidly through the yard, up to the road where she stood. She had not felt his presence. That was odd. He was tall, a bit over six feet, slim, with blond shaggy hair and an open friendly face. Katherine found him very attractive in a response she seldom felt. There was an almost childlike innocence in his face that fascinated her.
Getting hold of herself, Katherine reached out into his mind. There were no defenses, not even the usual restraints average people used to discipline their thoughts. This young man was so sweet and trusting that he seemed way too good to be true, but there he was and she could find nothing to contradict that.
"Hi," he sang out cheerfully. "Can I help you?"
"Have you seen my friends?"
The blond man came to stand next to her, grinning easily. "Oh, I have to tell you I know all about Khang."
"WHAT?" she blurted out. "Then you- you are the one they're looking for."
He raised a finger in admonishment. "There's something Khang hasn't told you. In fact, there's a lot you don't know about him. I have been sent to replace him. The Powers That Be feel he was a mistake."
"Oh no you don't. You're the son of Draldros. You're a hell-child trying to deceive me."
"Did he tell you that?" He seemed genuinely hurt. "That's so wrong. Of course he doesn't want to step down. But after all, you have to admit he's too intimidating to do his job well. How can he get people to trust him? He's just scary. A giant silver man, that was a mistake."
It all made sense, she thought hastily. She had often wondered why Khang was so terrifying to the very people he was intended to help. Her telepathic senses confirmed he was telling the truth and she had never been wrong before. Besides, she thought, just look at him. He was like a California surfer, tanned and healthy and open.
"Wait, give me a second to think," she began but he had already stepped closer to her. She looked into those clear blue eyes and saw the same restless swirling energy she felt around Khang, energy that drew her in, that grew to fill her consciousness. The golden hands reached up toward her face....
"Stand away from her!" boomed a voice like thunder, making her start and fall back against the Jeep in fright. Khang! In that instant, a red spark flashed in Armidros' eyes and the veneer of kindness fell away from his mind like tissue. The blasphemous hatred and venom within lashed out into Katherine's mind with withering effect. He slapped her hard with a backhand that split her lip and sent her reeling a few steps to fall to her knees.
The silver man stormed up the path, his clothing discarded and his metallic form literally shining with visible energy that moved like flame. He reached down to steady Katherine, helping her gently to her feet. She told him what had happened in a burst of emotion that was half verbal, half telepathic. Armidros did not move. "Go down behind the road out of sight," Khang rumbled. "It is for me to deal with this unholy creature."
As the girl ran frantically away, Khang raised an angry fist. "Do not think to deceive me as you did her. I see your spirit, not your shell of flesh."
Armidros laughed happily. "You still don't understand, do you? You have met your match and more. I am indeed the son of Great Draldros, and I am going to kill you."
"Brave words indeed." The giant silver man raised his open hands. "Let us test them."
The Changeling reached to clasp those hands and instantly a roaring fireball of gralic energy flared up between them. Lurid deep red flame clashed with pitiless white light, casting deep shadows in all directions. Unspeaking, unmoving, Khang and Armidros thrust their forces against each other. The nimbus where the two energies struggled grew brighter, intolerable to any who might have been watching. Then a sudden blast of thunder detonated that echoed for miles and both opponents fell to the ground with steam rising from their bodies.
Khang lay prone, face-down, his strange eye-slots dimmed for the first time since his creation. Almost within reach, Armidros rolled over and sat up as if waking from a nap. He chuckled. "Old fool. Your Master has failed. This is MY hour now."
Slowly, painfully, the silver man raised himself up on one elbow. His featureless head hung down weakly. "Wrong. So wrong. Hear me, Armidros. We were roughly equal. I have given up most of my gralic charge to drive out all of yours."
"So what? I seem to be the one on my feet, you big clown."
Khang lifted his head. The inner glow was returning to his eyes. "You do not realize the difference between us. I was not sired by Jordyn. I was a mortal Man granted a duty and a trust. I can always be given more power as I need it. Not you. You were spawned in an abominable deed and the power that was yours at birth is all you may ever possess."
"No! You're lying!" Armidros screamed. He kicked viciously at Khang's head but only hurt his foot. The silver man placed his palms down in the dirt and began to lift his upper body, but sagged down again.
"I do not lie," Khang rumbled. "You do not have much time left."
Armridros turned, almost falling, and stumbled through the yard down toward the house. He could not summon any gralic bolts. This had to be temporary, it could not be the end for him. The Changeling made it to the small patio by the house and tried to clear his head. Where were his servants? Where were the Darthim who had swore to protect him? "Alina? Fandir?"
From around the corner of the house stepped a thin young man dressed all in black, and Armidros felt fear strike his heart for the first time in his short life. It was his gift of perception that worked against him now. He had perceived the trust in the heart of that girl, he had perceived the anger in the grey haired man with the dart gun, and he had used those to his advantage. But now his inhuman mind reached for weakness, for fear or uncertainty, and in the mind of Jeremy Bane, he found none of those. The Dire Wolf regarded him with the terrible calm gaze of a predator staring down his prey.
"My friend Hawk is going to be okay," Bane said quietly, standing with his arms folded. "He was dazed but he's tough. And I see Khang is getting to his feet up there. But you and I have things to settle." In those grey eyes was only cold determination. "I owe you for that coma you put me in last night, blondie."
As he spoke, Bane straightened his arms and in each hand was one of the silver bladed daggers. To Armidros, those knives shone with clear unbearable light. Silver was harmful by itself to his kind, and those blades had been ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin so that he could barely stand to look at them. He backed up a few steps, then turned his head to look behind him.
The girl had come down through the yard and was standing almost within arm's reach. Blood showed on her lip and her dark blue eyes fixed on him strangely. "You lied to me," she said in a voice reinforced by her telepathic powers. There were tears in her eyes now. "I was never deceived in my life until I met you. I hate you. I wish you were dead!"
Armridros clapped his hands to his face and shrieked, convulsing and falling straight down. His head bounced as it struck the ground. Bane stepped closer, turned the head to one side and saw the open staring eyes. "Whoa. He's dead, all right," he said callously as he stood up.
"Oh, my God.." breathed Katherine. She threw herself on Bane, wrapping both arms around him and sobbing with her whole body. "I didn't mean to kill him, Jeremy, I swear I didn't."
["Spawn of Ahriman, 12/1969; rev 6/2/2013]
