"The Dead Do Not Forgive"
Mar. 22nd, 2023 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"The Dead Do Not Forgive"
10/11-10/22/1978
I.
THE twigs which Watesa flung on the fire broke and crackled. The upleaping flames lit the countenances of three people. Samuel Watesa, voodoo Hungan of New Orleans, was a solidly built black man of early middle age, with a sprinkling of white throughout his beard and hair. He was wearing sensible hiking clothes, light weight khaki, now stained with dried sweat and torn in places.
Facing him was the young Dire Wolf, Jeremy Bane. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad all in black... hiking boots, loose trousers and a long-sleeved shirt with a many-pocketed vest over it. His wide-brimmed slouch hat was drawn low over his heavy brows, shadowing his narrow face. Cold grey eyes brooded in the firelight.
"This is the farthest I've ever been from New York City," he announced. "The train ride from the capital, then the drive in that rented Jeep we had to leave behind and now four days walking through jungle."
"Oh, I daresay we will be see more distant places as long as we work for Mr Dred," said Katherine Wheatley. Still in her teens, her long black hair tied up in a bun, she was wearing boots and khaki pants like Watesa's but she had on a thin white cotton blouse. She toyed with the white pith helmet she had purchased at a trading post. "We haven't even been to any of the adjacent realms yet."
That drew an amused chuckle from Watesa. "Oh, you two have some revelations in store for you. Okali, Perjena, Signarm. Or even, God forbid, Maroch or Fanedral itself."
"Danarak is enough for right now," Bane's voice was more sullen than usual. "This is some rough going, Samuel. I'm a city boy to the bone."
Watesa stirred the fire, saying nothing.
"Mr Dred tried to explain Voodoo to me, he said it's a modern, lighter version of the forbidden knowledge gained at the Corruption thousands of years ago. He said you are one of the top five or six Voodoo masters in the world, you're called a Hungan."
"Yes, I am Samuel Juhari Watesa! Hungan priest of the Higher Ones! Sleep if you can, Jeremy, I have much to consider."
Bane gazed at the Hungan who bent over the fire, making even motions with his hands and mumbling incantations. Bane watched, growing sleepy. Katherine had already dozed off. A mist wavered in front of him, through which he saw dimly the form of Watesa, etched dark against the flames. Then it faded out.
Bane awoke with a start, hand shooting to the pistol in his belt. Watesa grinned at him across the flame, and there was a scent of early dawn in the air. From Katherine's soft steady breathing, she was sleeping soundly.
The Voodoo master held a long staff of ebony in his hands. This was elablorately carved with many esoteric symbols. One end tapered to a sharpened point but the other was capped with a deep blue gem wrapped in silver wire. "This is the ceremonial staff of the Elders of Danarak," said Watesa, putting it in the Dire Wolf's hand.
Bane hefted the thing to judge its weight, highly suspicious of witchcraft. It was not heavy, but seemed as hard as iron. Between the sharp point at one end and the heavy gem at the other. it should make a good weapon at least, he decided. Dawn was just beginning to steal over the jungle and the river.
"I think you should carry it from now on," said Watesa. "Let's be honest, you're the fighter in our little expedition. When trouble comes.. and it will!... the staff will be more useful wielded by you."
"Fair enough," Bane acknowledged. "How about some solid, straightforward information, Samuel? What are we going up against? What ceremony are you prepared for? I'm a simple guy who likes direct answers."
"Soon, maybe all too soon, it will all be revealed. He turned his head as Katherine stirred.
Sitting up, rubbing her eyes, the young telepath yawned. "Morning, lads. Gracious, I'm all stiff. I feel like my grandmother. I'll be right back." She got to her feet and hurried out of the cave into the bushes as Nature called.
II.
Jeremy Bane leaned on the ceremonial staff he was using as a walking stick. Silence lay about him like a fog. Bane's dust-streaked face face and tattered garments showed the effect of long bush travel. He was by far the most fit of the three travelers and often grudgingly waited while Watesa and Katherine took rest breaks but even he was getting weary by the end of daylight.
Some distance behind him loomed the green, rank jungle, thinning out to low shrubs, stunted trees and tall grass. Some distance in front of him rose the first of a chain of bare, sombre hills, littered with boulders, shimmering in the merciless heat of the sun. Between the hills and the jungle lay a broad expanse of rough, uneven grasslands, dotted here and there by clumps of thorn trees.
An utter silence hung over the country. The only sign of life was a few vultures flapping heavily across the distant hills. For the last few days Bane had noticed the increasing number of these unsavoury birds. And why were there so many hyenass lurking nearby? Were they following the three Humans or were they drawn to whatever the vultures sought? The sun was lowering westward but its heat was in no way abated.
Looking back to be sure his companions were ready, he started forward slowly.
As he progressed he noted an occasional lion spoor but there seemed to be no animals in the grasslands—none that left tracks, at any rate. Vultures sat like black, brooding images in some of the stunted trees, and suddenly he saw an activity among them some distance beyond. Several of the dusky birds circled about a clump of high grass, dipping, then rising again. Some beast of prey was defending his kill against them, Bane decided, and wondered at the lack of snarling and roaring which usually accompanied such scenes. His curiosity was roused and he turned his steps in that direction.
At last, pushing through the grass which rose about his shoulders, he saw, as through a corridor walled with the rank waving blades, a ghastly sight. The corpse of a black man lay, face down, and as the Englishman looked, a great dark snake rose and slid away into the grass, moving so quickly that Bane was unable to decide its nature.
Bane stood over the body, noting that while the limbs lay awry as if broken, the flesh was not torn as a lion or leopard would have torn it. He glanced up at the whirling vultures and was amazed to see several of them skimming along close to the earth, following a waving of the grass which marked the flight of the thing which had presumably slain the black man. Bane wondered what thing the carrion birds, which eat only the dead, were hunting through the grasslands. But Danarak is full of never-explained mysteries.
Bane shrugged his shoulders and lifted the staff again. Since he had begun working for Kenneth Dred a year earlier, he had certainly learned a staggering amount about the hellish Midnight War which raged in secret in the shadowy back corners of the world. He thought og himself as tough and unfeeling but deep down he realized it was only a protective shell he had grown.
Bane sighed. Here in this barren land seemed neither food nor water, but he had wearied unto death of the dank, rank venom of the thick jungle. Even a wilderness of bare hills was preferable, for a time at least. He glanced at them, where they lay brooding in the sun, and started forward again.
Neither Katherine nor Watesa were speaking much. The idle chatter had trailed off as the trek through heavy undergrowth took so much of their strength to negotiate.
Now as he went toward the hills, a sudden commotion broke out in the tall grass in front of them, which was, in places, taller than a man. A thin, high-pitched scream sounded and on its heels an earth-shaking roar. The grass parted and a slim figure came flying toward them with desperate haste. A brown-skinned younf girl, clad only in a skirt-like garment of red cloth. Behind her, some yards away but gaining swiftly, bounded a huge black-maned lion.
The girl fell at Bane's feet with a wail and a sob, and lay clutching at his ankles. The Dire Wolf dropped the ceremonial stave,whipped up his long-barreled Smith & Wesson revolver and blasted all six bullets directly into the ferocious feline face which neared him every instant. Point blank range. The girl screamed once and slumped on her face. The huge cat leaped high and wildly, to fall and lie motionless.
Bane reloaded hastily before he spared a glance at the form at his feet. The girl lay as still as the lion he had just slain, but it seemed that she had only fainted.
Katherine Wheatley hurried over to kneel over the dazed Danarakan girl.
She bathed her face with water from a canteen, taking her pulse and rubbing her cheeks. presently the girl opened her eyes and sat up. Fear flooded her face as she looked at her rescuers.
Bane held out a restraining hand and she cowered down, trembling. The girl was slim and well-formed. Her nose was straight and thin-bridged. She was a rich deep brown in skin tone, with the distinctive Danarakan strong jaw. The ebony eyes showed intelligence as her panic eased up.
Samuel Watesa spoke to her in a river dialect, a simple language he had learned during his wanderings and she replied haltingly. It turned out that, like many Danarakans, she spoke fair English because of the British colonization a century earlier.
"My village is there," she answered Bane's question, pointing to the southern jungle with a slim, rounded arm. "My name is Takeenya . My mother whipped me for breaking a cooking-kettle and I ran away because I was angry. I am afraid, let me go back to my mother!"
"Sure, you can go back," said Bane, "but I think you'd better let us accompany you. That wasn't the only lion around here and those hyenas are just as dangerous."
She rose hesitantly, eyeing him apprehensively through the wild tangle of her hair. To Bane she seemed like some frightened young animal. She led the way and Bane followed with Katherine and Watesa right behind them. Takeenya indicated that her village lay to the southeast, and their route brought them nearer to the hills. The sun began to sink. The roaring of lions and cackling of hyenas reverberated over the grasslands. Bane glanced at the western sky. This open country was no place in which to be caught by night.
Watesa was thinking the same way. "We need a secure shelter for the night."
"Takeenya," said Bande grimly, "We can never reach your village before nightfall. There are too many predators around. Look, over there in that hill is a cavern where we may spend the night..."
She shrank and trembled. "Not in the hills, please!" she whimpered. "Better to face the lions!"
"Nonsense!" Bane snapped at her. He was not patient under the best circumstances and at the moment he was outright surly. "We'll be safest overnight in the cave. Katherine? Samuel?"
"I quite agree," Watesa said "We can have a fire in front of us and stone walls on three sides. We'd better settle in."
"I'm too tired to debate the question," Katherine moaned. "My feet are so swollen I'm afraid I'll never get my boots back on if I dare take them off."
She argued no further, but followed him. They went up a short slope and stood at the mouth of the cavern, a small affair, with sides of solid rock and floor of deep sand.
"See if you can gather some dry wood, Katherine. Take Takeenya with you to keep her safe," suggested Bane, standing the staff against the wall at the mouth of the cave, "but don't get too far away, and watch for lions. We'll build here a fire which should keep us safe from beasts tonight. We still have rations for a few more days, so at least we don't have to try and trap any game."
"If I pick up any lion thought waves," replied the telepath, "I'll dive back into this cave so fast you'll wet yourself." Taking the Danarakan girl gently byone arm, she set out on her chore.
Watesa tore up grass near at hand, noting how it was seared and crisp from the drought, and heaping it up, struck the piece of flint and steel blade he carried. Flame leaped up and devoured the heap in an instant. He was wondering how he could gather enough grass to keep a fire going all night, when the two men were aware they had visitors.
III.
III.
Bane had become used to grotesque sights since entering the Midnight War, but at first glance he started and a warning shiver flashed down his spine. Two men stood before him in silence. They were tall and gaunt and entirely naked. Their skins were a dusty black, tinged with a grey, ashy hue as of death. Their faces were different from any he had ever seen. They did not look like Danarakans, but had wider flatter faces with thin slitlike mouths and pointed noses. Most disturbing was the way their eyes reflected red from the fire.
He spoke to them, but they did not answer. He invited them to eat with a motion of his hand, and they silently squatted down near the cave mouth, as far from the dying embers of the fire as they could get.
Bane turned to his pouch and began taking out the strips of dried meat which he carried. Once he glanced at his silent guests; it seemed to him that they were watching the glowing ashes of his fire, rather than him.
The sun was about to sink behind the western horizon. A red, fierce glow spread over the grasslands, so that it seemed like a waving sea of blood. Bane knelt over his pouch, and glancing up, saw Katherine and Takeenya come around the shoulder of the hill with their arms full of grass and dry branches.
As he looked, their eyes flared wide. The branches dropped from their arms and Takeenya's scream cut through the silence. Bane whirled on one knee. Two great forms loomed over him as he came up with the lithe motion of a springing wolf. The ceremonial stave was in his hand and he drove it through the body of the nearest foe with a force which sent its sharp point out between the man's shoulders. Then the long, lean arms of the other locked about him, and the two went down together.
The talon-like nails of the stranger were tearing at his face, the hideous red eyes staring into his with a terrible threat, as Bane writhed about and, fending off the clawing hands with one arm, drew his pistol. He pressed the muzzle close against the savage side and pulled the trigger. At the muffled report, the stranger's body jerked to the concussion of the bullet, but the thick lips merely gaped in a horrid grin.
One long arm slid under Bane's shoulders, the other hand gripped his hair, the Dire Wolf felt his head being forced back irresistibly. He clutched at the other's wrists with both hands, but the flesh under his frantic fingers was as hard as wood. Bane's neck felt like it was ready to break with a little more pressure. He threw his body backward with one final effort, breaking the deadly hold. The other was on him, and the talons were clutching again. Bane found and raised the empty pistol, and he felt the man's skull cave in as he brought down the long barrel with all his strength. But still the writhing lips remained parted in fearful mockery.
As near a panic as he ever felt clutched Bane. What sort of man was this, who still menaced his life with tearing fingers, after having been shot and mortally bludgeoned? Not a living man certainly. What had Watesa called them? Zuvembies! At the thought Bane wrenched and heaved explosively, and the close-locked combatants tumbled across the earth to come to a rest in the smouldering ashes before the cave mouth. Bane barely felt the heat, but the mouth of his foe gaped, this time in seeming agony. The frightful fingers loosened their hold and Bane sprang clear.
The savage creature with his shattered skull was rising on one hand and one knee when Bane struck again. From the side he leaped in, landing full on the sinewy back, his steely arms seeking and finding a deadly wrestling hold. As they went to the earth together he twisted the other's neck, so that the hideous dead face looked back over one shoulder. The body lay motionless but to Bane it seemed that it was not dead even then, for the red eyes still burned with their grisly light.
The Dire Wolf turned to see his companions just beginning to react. The whole vicious struggle had taken only a few seconds. He looked for the ceremonial staff. It was lying in a heap of dust, among which were a few mouldering bones. With one stride he tugged the staff free and turned to the fallen man. His face set in grim lines as he raised and then drove the staff down hard through the savage breast. Before everyone's eyes, the great body crumbled and dissolving to dust as they watched horror-struck, even as the first opponent had crumbled when Bane had first thrust the stave.
IV.
"Damn!" whispered Bane. "These men were dead! Vampires maybe, or Zombies. This is as bad as you feared, Samuel."
Katherine rose to her knees and drew closer, staying slightly behind Bane. "There wasn't time to tell you before they attacked, Jeremy, but their thoughts were primitive, almost animalistic. No higher functions."
"These are the walking dead that we have been sent to free," Watesa told them.
"Why didn't they attack as soon they first came in?" demanded Bane.
"They feared the fire. They were waiting for the embers to die entirely."
"So fire is an effective weapon to use against them. Good to know."
"They came from the Red Hills. Hundreds of their kind swarm among the boulders and caverns of these hills, where they have lurked for two centuries. Jeremy, Katherine, it is not an era of which we Danarakans are proud. Among the greater of these hills there is a silent city of stone, raised by an earlier civilization whose very name is forgotten. The Bakwanga made war upon a lesser tribe, killing and enslaving and taking their territory."
"History of the world, sadly," Katherine said.
"All too true. Driven into the ruins, the refugees turned to their shaman, who knew dark secrets from the Fall of Ulgor. He placed a curse upon his own people. He made them forever Undead. For the generations since, the Zuvembies have they preyed on the tribes of the jungle, stalking down from the hills at midnight and at sunset to kill. Men and beasts flee them and only fire can destroy them."
"At least, here is something else that we know can destroy them," said Bane grimly, raising the ceremonial stave.
"You also have your silver daggers," Katherine reminded him.
"Yeah, they haven't let me down yet. We might as well get some rest, first we'll eat," said Bane, "then we'd better build a regular bonfire fire at the cave mouth.
"Yes," agreed Watesa. "The flames which keep away nocturnal predators shall also keep away Zuvembies."
Later Bane sat just inside the cave, chin rested on clenched fist, eyes gazing unseeingly into the fire. The night wore on. Katherine slept, her cheek pillowed on her arm and the Danarakan girl Takeenya was lying close to her for support. The coughing roars of lions shook the hills and still Bane sat and gazed broodingly into the fire. Outside, the night was alive with whispers and rustlings and stealthily soft footfalls. And at times Bane, glancing up from his meditations, seemed to catch the gleam of great red eyes beyond the flickering light of the fire. The whole scene seemed to capsulize the Midnight War to Bane.
Grey dawn was stealing over the grasslands when Bane shook Katherine into wakefulness. Off to one side, Samuel Watesa sat up and stretched.
"This land has been blighted for a long time," said Watesa, getting down to business. "A dreaded curse animates these dead people! You're eager to wipe out these dead fellows, eh?"
"I can't wait. Talk about something opposed to nature," said Bane sombrely. "Dead people should lie quietly and go into the ground when the times come. These are known in my land as Zombies. I never expected to come upon a whole nation of them."
"We will arrive at the stone city soon," Watesa declared. "We will start now."
The Dire Wolf shouldered on his knapsack and buckled his canteen to his belt. "Katherine, you should stay here with Takeenya."
"What?! I hardly think so, lad. We're safer with you two and to be honest, my telepathy will warn us of any ambush. I can tell where these monsters are before they're in sight."
Bane shook his head. "No. No arguing. I didn't want to say this outright but Samuel and I aren't likely to survive this. The numbers are too ridiculous. If we don't come back by tomorrow morning, it's up to you to get back to the nearest outpost and report to Mr Dred. He needs to know what happened and he'll need you as an aide."
The young telepath took a long moment to respond. "I never heard you talk that way before, Jeremy. You're always so sure of yourself. I'm getting scared for the first time."
V.
Bane and Watesa went up among the barren Red Hills as the sun was rising. Higher they climbed, up steep clay slopes, winding their way through ravines and between great boulders. The hills were honey-combed with dark, forbidding caves, and these they passed warily, and Bane's flesh crawled as he thought of the grisly occupants therein. For Watesa had said:"The Zuvembies lie motionless in caves most all of the day till sunset. Those caves are a vast cemetery that empties itself at night."
The sun rose higher, baking down on the bare slopes with an intolerable heat. Silence hung heavy over the land. They had seen nothing, but Bane could have sworn at times that a black shadow drifted behind a boulder at their approach.
"Those Zuvembies, they stay hidden in daytime." said Watesa with a low grumble. "They are afraid of the vultures! Same for the rats and the crows. Carrion is all the same to them."
A strong shudder shook his companion. "Man, I didn't know what I was getting into when I signed up for the Midnight War!" Bane's grey eyes burned with a dangerous light. The terrible heat, the solitude and the knowledge of the horrors lurking on either hand were shaking even his hardened nerves. He was carrying the wide-brimmed hat as he wiped the sweat from his face with his free hand.
"Keep that hat on," admonished Watesa with a tinge of amusement. "Sunstroke is something we have no way to treat out here."
Bane made no reply other than to firmly tug the slouch hat back on. They mounted an eminence at last and looked down on a sort of plateau. In the center of this plateau was a decayed city of crumbling granite. Bane was struck by a sense of incredible age as he looked. The walls and houses were of great stone blocks, yet they were falling into ruin. Grass grew on the plateau, and high in the streets of that dead city. Bane saw no movement among the ruins.
"That is their city, so why do they choose to sleep in the caves?"
"They're not thinking the way living Humans think," Watesa. "They're working at a primal, instinctive level. Maybe they don't trust anything man-made."
"It's so quiet," whispered Bane, "No birds, no insects. It's as if life has been hushed here."
"Zuvembes have nothing to say to each other. They're dead. They lie unliving in caves all day but wander off at sunset. Predators that even lions and leopards hesitate to approach."
Bane nodded. The crumbling walls which surrounded that dead city were still high and solid enough to resist the attack of spearmen, especially when defended by these Undead fiends.
Watesa announced solemnly, "I have to think a new plan! Let me hold the ceremonial staff, Jeremy, and be silent a little while."
Bane seated himself on a boulder, and gazed broodingly at the bare crags and slopes which surrounded them. Far away to the south he saw the leafy green ocean that was the jungle. Distance lent a certain enchantment to the scene. Closer at hand loomed the dark blotches that were the mouths of the caves of horror.
Watesa was squatting, tracing some strange pattern in the clay with the sharp point of the staff. Bane watched him, thinking how easy they might fall victim to the Zuvembies if even three or four of the fiends should come out of their caverns. And even as he thought it, a black misshapen shadow fell across the crouching Hungan.
Bane acted without conscious thought, springing up from the boulder where he satlike a stone hurled from a catapult. A vicious short straight left shattered the face of the hideous thing who had stolen upon them. With a furious barrage of punches, Bane drove his inhuman foe staggering back, never giving him time to halt or launch an offensive.
At the very edge of the cliff the Zuvembie wavered, then pitched back over, to fall for a hundred feet and lie writhing on the rocks of the plateau below. Watesa was on his feet pointing and yelling. The Red Hills were giving up their dead.
Out of the caves they were swarming, terrible black silent shapes. Up the slopes they came charging and over the boulders they came clambering, and their red eyes were all turned toward the two living Humans who stood above the silent city. The caves belched them forth in an unholy judgment day.
Watesa pointed to a crag some distance away and with a shout started running fleetly toward it. Bane followed. From behind boulders taloned hands clawed at them, tearing their garments. They raced past caves, and mummified monsters lurched out of the dark to join in the pursuit.
The dead hands were close at their back when they scrambled up the last slope and stood on a ledge which was the top of the crag. The fiends halted silently a moment, then came clambering after them. Bane drew both silver-bladed daggers and slashed down into the red-eyed faces, sweeping aside the upleaping hands. They surged up like a great wave; he whirled his knives in a silent fury that matched theirs. The wave broke and wavered back, then came on again.
He knocked them down, hurled them back, but they rose and came on again. He could not last much longer. What in God's name was Watesa doing? Bane spared one swift, tortured glance over his shoulder. The Hungan stood on the highest part of the ledge, head thrown back, arms lifted as if in invocation.
"Hear me, men of Ombressa! These are the words of the Elders of Danarak. In the names of Jordyn, Cirkoth and Eryasha, the curse is lifted from you. I declare you are freed to go to your final rest of true death."
Bane's vision blurred to the sweep of hideous faces with red, staring eyes. Those in front were horrible to see now, for their skulls were shattered, their faces caved in and their limbs broken. But still they came on and those behind reached across their shoulders to clutch at the man who defied them.
Bane was covered with red but the blood was all his. From the long-withered veins of those monsters no single drop of warm red blood trickled. Suddenly from behind him came a long piercing wall from Watesa! Over the whistling of the silver daggers it sounded high and clear, the only voice lifted in that hideous fight.
The wave of vampires washed up about Bane's legs, dragging him down. Keen talons tore at him, flaccid lips sucked at his wounds. He reeled up again, dishevelled and bloody, clearing a space with a vicious sweep of his silver daggers. Then they closed in again and he went down.
"Even just grievances must not last forever," called out Watesa. "The curse is lifted, I say. The dead do not forgive but they are forgiven. REST IN PEACE!"
"This is the end!" Bane thought, but even at that instant, he was freed. He glared about wildly. All around him, the monsters were sagging to the ground and stretching out to not move again. Unexpectedly free, he straightened up, still ready to renew the strife. He halted, frozen. Overhead, the sky darkened with a horde of vultures and crows eagerly swarming. Galloping up the rocky slopes were hundreds of black rats and hyenas which seemed ravenous.
The sounds of beaks and fangs tearing at dead flesh, the growling and rasping as the scavengers quarreled to get at the carcasses, was nauseating. Bane felt as if he couldn't deal with much more. He hadn't thought he had limits to his endurance but this nightmare had taught him differently.
Watesa stood like a prophet on the pinnacle, and the great black birds soared and wheeled about him. His arms still waved and his voice still wailed out across the hills. And over the skylines they still came, hordes on endless hordes of vultures and crows. Racing across the ground were still more rats and hyenas. It seemed the entire scavanger population of Danarak had converged here for their hideous feast
"Our work is done," Samuel Watesa announced with the voice of a judge. "Come, Jeremy, we do not need to watch this cleaning-up."
Bane gazed at at the clean blue sky. He hadn't realized how hazy and oppressive the air had been before. Fresh air like a strong sea wind clearing a fog of horror lifted his spirits. The two men wearily began descending the rocky slope again. Watesa lifted one arm and rubbed Bane's back high up between the shoulder blades. As the sounds of feasting faded behind them, they felt relieved.
VI.
Bane sat in the mouth of the cave where Katherine was beginning to thaw her frosty attitude after seeing them both return safely. She had gone so far as to fetch more water from the spring downhill and helped him scrub off some of the dried blood.
The Dire Wolf's garments hung in strips and tatters. His body and face were deeply gashed and darkly bruised, but he had not suffered a mortal wound in that deathly fight on the cliff. Young and tough, with an enhanced metabolism, he shrugged off trauma that would kill most people.
"I will keep the ceremonial staff, Jeremy," said Watesa. "It has mighty power against all sorcerers and demons and nameless evil things. Are you and Katherine ready to head West again and eventually back to America?"
Katherine spoke up emphatically, "Absolutely. I keep thinking of Mr Dred fretting over us. He must be worried sick by now."
"We'll place a call at the first outpost we can," agreed Bane.
"The Jeep is waiting two days march from here. A day after that, we'll be at the Zambusa village, they have electricity and telephone service. That's where the modern roads begin."
Katherine Wheatley allowed one of her endearing grins to spread across her face. "And I bet there's something new waiting for us. Something horrifying and dangerous and unexpected. Right, Jeremy?"
He nodded with a faint smile of his own. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
3/22/2023
10/11-10/22/1978
I.
THE twigs which Watesa flung on the fire broke and crackled. The upleaping flames lit the countenances of three people. Samuel Watesa, voodoo Hungan of New Orleans, was a solidly built black man of early middle age, with a sprinkling of white throughout his beard and hair. He was wearing sensible hiking clothes, light weight khaki, now stained with dried sweat and torn in places.
Facing him was the young Dire Wolf, Jeremy Bane. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad all in black... hiking boots, loose trousers and a long-sleeved shirt with a many-pocketed vest over it. His wide-brimmed slouch hat was drawn low over his heavy brows, shadowing his narrow face. Cold grey eyes brooded in the firelight.
"This is the farthest I've ever been from New York City," he announced. "The train ride from the capital, then the drive in that rented Jeep we had to leave behind and now four days walking through jungle."
"Oh, I daresay we will be see more distant places as long as we work for Mr Dred," said Katherine Wheatley. Still in her teens, her long black hair tied up in a bun, she was wearing boots and khaki pants like Watesa's but she had on a thin white cotton blouse. She toyed with the white pith helmet she had purchased at a trading post. "We haven't even been to any of the adjacent realms yet."
That drew an amused chuckle from Watesa. "Oh, you two have some revelations in store for you. Okali, Perjena, Signarm. Or even, God forbid, Maroch or Fanedral itself."
"Danarak is enough for right now," Bane's voice was more sullen than usual. "This is some rough going, Samuel. I'm a city boy to the bone."
Watesa stirred the fire, saying nothing.
"Mr Dred tried to explain Voodoo to me, he said it's a modern, lighter version of the forbidden knowledge gained at the Corruption thousands of years ago. He said you are one of the top five or six Voodoo masters in the world, you're called a Hungan."
"Yes, I am Samuel Juhari Watesa! Hungan priest of the Higher Ones! Sleep if you can, Jeremy, I have much to consider."
Bane gazed at the Hungan who bent over the fire, making even motions with his hands and mumbling incantations. Bane watched, growing sleepy. Katherine had already dozed off. A mist wavered in front of him, through which he saw dimly the form of Watesa, etched dark against the flames. Then it faded out.
Bane awoke with a start, hand shooting to the pistol in his belt. Watesa grinned at him across the flame, and there was a scent of early dawn in the air. From Katherine's soft steady breathing, she was sleeping soundly.
The Voodoo master held a long staff of ebony in his hands. This was elablorately carved with many esoteric symbols. One end tapered to a sharpened point but the other was capped with a deep blue gem wrapped in silver wire. "This is the ceremonial staff of the Elders of Danarak," said Watesa, putting it in the Dire Wolf's hand.
Bane hefted the thing to judge its weight, highly suspicious of witchcraft. It was not heavy, but seemed as hard as iron. Between the sharp point at one end and the heavy gem at the other. it should make a good weapon at least, he decided. Dawn was just beginning to steal over the jungle and the river.
"I think you should carry it from now on," said Watesa. "Let's be honest, you're the fighter in our little expedition. When trouble comes.. and it will!... the staff will be more useful wielded by you."
"Fair enough," Bane acknowledged. "How about some solid, straightforward information, Samuel? What are we going up against? What ceremony are you prepared for? I'm a simple guy who likes direct answers."
"Soon, maybe all too soon, it will all be revealed. He turned his head as Katherine stirred.
Sitting up, rubbing her eyes, the young telepath yawned. "Morning, lads. Gracious, I'm all stiff. I feel like my grandmother. I'll be right back." She got to her feet and hurried out of the cave into the bushes as Nature called.
II.
Jeremy Bane leaned on the ceremonial staff he was using as a walking stick. Silence lay about him like a fog. Bane's dust-streaked face face and tattered garments showed the effect of long bush travel. He was by far the most fit of the three travelers and often grudgingly waited while Watesa and Katherine took rest breaks but even he was getting weary by the end of daylight.
Some distance behind him loomed the green, rank jungle, thinning out to low shrubs, stunted trees and tall grass. Some distance in front of him rose the first of a chain of bare, sombre hills, littered with boulders, shimmering in the merciless heat of the sun. Between the hills and the jungle lay a broad expanse of rough, uneven grasslands, dotted here and there by clumps of thorn trees.
An utter silence hung over the country. The only sign of life was a few vultures flapping heavily across the distant hills. For the last few days Bane had noticed the increasing number of these unsavoury birds. And why were there so many hyenass lurking nearby? Were they following the three Humans or were they drawn to whatever the vultures sought? The sun was lowering westward but its heat was in no way abated.
Looking back to be sure his companions were ready, he started forward slowly.
As he progressed he noted an occasional lion spoor but there seemed to be no animals in the grasslands—none that left tracks, at any rate. Vultures sat like black, brooding images in some of the stunted trees, and suddenly he saw an activity among them some distance beyond. Several of the dusky birds circled about a clump of high grass, dipping, then rising again. Some beast of prey was defending his kill against them, Bane decided, and wondered at the lack of snarling and roaring which usually accompanied such scenes. His curiosity was roused and he turned his steps in that direction.
At last, pushing through the grass which rose about his shoulders, he saw, as through a corridor walled with the rank waving blades, a ghastly sight. The corpse of a black man lay, face down, and as the Englishman looked, a great dark snake rose and slid away into the grass, moving so quickly that Bane was unable to decide its nature.
Bane stood over the body, noting that while the limbs lay awry as if broken, the flesh was not torn as a lion or leopard would have torn it. He glanced up at the whirling vultures and was amazed to see several of them skimming along close to the earth, following a waving of the grass which marked the flight of the thing which had presumably slain the black man. Bane wondered what thing the carrion birds, which eat only the dead, were hunting through the grasslands. But Danarak is full of never-explained mysteries.
Bane shrugged his shoulders and lifted the staff again. Since he had begun working for Kenneth Dred a year earlier, he had certainly learned a staggering amount about the hellish Midnight War which raged in secret in the shadowy back corners of the world. He thought og himself as tough and unfeeling but deep down he realized it was only a protective shell he had grown.
Bane sighed. Here in this barren land seemed neither food nor water, but he had wearied unto death of the dank, rank venom of the thick jungle. Even a wilderness of bare hills was preferable, for a time at least. He glanced at them, where they lay brooding in the sun, and started forward again.
Neither Katherine nor Watesa were speaking much. The idle chatter had trailed off as the trek through heavy undergrowth took so much of their strength to negotiate.
Now as he went toward the hills, a sudden commotion broke out in the tall grass in front of them, which was, in places, taller than a man. A thin, high-pitched scream sounded and on its heels an earth-shaking roar. The grass parted and a slim figure came flying toward them with desperate haste. A brown-skinned younf girl, clad only in a skirt-like garment of red cloth. Behind her, some yards away but gaining swiftly, bounded a huge black-maned lion.
The girl fell at Bane's feet with a wail and a sob, and lay clutching at his ankles. The Dire Wolf dropped the ceremonial stave,whipped up his long-barreled Smith & Wesson revolver and blasted all six bullets directly into the ferocious feline face which neared him every instant. Point blank range. The girl screamed once and slumped on her face. The huge cat leaped high and wildly, to fall and lie motionless.
Bane reloaded hastily before he spared a glance at the form at his feet. The girl lay as still as the lion he had just slain, but it seemed that she had only fainted.
Katherine Wheatley hurried over to kneel over the dazed Danarakan girl.
She bathed her face with water from a canteen, taking her pulse and rubbing her cheeks. presently the girl opened her eyes and sat up. Fear flooded her face as she looked at her rescuers.
Bane held out a restraining hand and she cowered down, trembling. The girl was slim and well-formed. Her nose was straight and thin-bridged. She was a rich deep brown in skin tone, with the distinctive Danarakan strong jaw. The ebony eyes showed intelligence as her panic eased up.
Samuel Watesa spoke to her in a river dialect, a simple language he had learned during his wanderings and she replied haltingly. It turned out that, like many Danarakans, she spoke fair English because of the British colonization a century earlier.
"My village is there," she answered Bane's question, pointing to the southern jungle with a slim, rounded arm. "My name is Takeenya . My mother whipped me for breaking a cooking-kettle and I ran away because I was angry. I am afraid, let me go back to my mother!"
"Sure, you can go back," said Bane, "but I think you'd better let us accompany you. That wasn't the only lion around here and those hyenas are just as dangerous."
She rose hesitantly, eyeing him apprehensively through the wild tangle of her hair. To Bane she seemed like some frightened young animal. She led the way and Bane followed with Katherine and Watesa right behind them. Takeenya indicated that her village lay to the southeast, and their route brought them nearer to the hills. The sun began to sink. The roaring of lions and cackling of hyenas reverberated over the grasslands. Bane glanced at the western sky. This open country was no place in which to be caught by night.
Watesa was thinking the same way. "We need a secure shelter for the night."
"Takeenya," said Bande grimly, "We can never reach your village before nightfall. There are too many predators around. Look, over there in that hill is a cavern where we may spend the night..."
She shrank and trembled. "Not in the hills, please!" she whimpered. "Better to face the lions!"
"Nonsense!" Bane snapped at her. He was not patient under the best circumstances and at the moment he was outright surly. "We'll be safest overnight in the cave. Katherine? Samuel?"
"I quite agree," Watesa said "We can have a fire in front of us and stone walls on three sides. We'd better settle in."
"I'm too tired to debate the question," Katherine moaned. "My feet are so swollen I'm afraid I'll never get my boots back on if I dare take them off."
She argued no further, but followed him. They went up a short slope and stood at the mouth of the cavern, a small affair, with sides of solid rock and floor of deep sand.
"See if you can gather some dry wood, Katherine. Take Takeenya with you to keep her safe," suggested Bane, standing the staff against the wall at the mouth of the cave, "but don't get too far away, and watch for lions. We'll build here a fire which should keep us safe from beasts tonight. We still have rations for a few more days, so at least we don't have to try and trap any game."
"If I pick up any lion thought waves," replied the telepath, "I'll dive back into this cave so fast you'll wet yourself." Taking the Danarakan girl gently byone arm, she set out on her chore.
Watesa tore up grass near at hand, noting how it was seared and crisp from the drought, and heaping it up, struck the piece of flint and steel blade he carried. Flame leaped up and devoured the heap in an instant. He was wondering how he could gather enough grass to keep a fire going all night, when the two men were aware they had visitors.
III.
III.
Bane had become used to grotesque sights since entering the Midnight War, but at first glance he started and a warning shiver flashed down his spine. Two men stood before him in silence. They were tall and gaunt and entirely naked. Their skins were a dusty black, tinged with a grey, ashy hue as of death. Their faces were different from any he had ever seen. They did not look like Danarakans, but had wider flatter faces with thin slitlike mouths and pointed noses. Most disturbing was the way their eyes reflected red from the fire.
He spoke to them, but they did not answer. He invited them to eat with a motion of his hand, and they silently squatted down near the cave mouth, as far from the dying embers of the fire as they could get.
Bane turned to his pouch and began taking out the strips of dried meat which he carried. Once he glanced at his silent guests; it seemed to him that they were watching the glowing ashes of his fire, rather than him.
The sun was about to sink behind the western horizon. A red, fierce glow spread over the grasslands, so that it seemed like a waving sea of blood. Bane knelt over his pouch, and glancing up, saw Katherine and Takeenya come around the shoulder of the hill with their arms full of grass and dry branches.
As he looked, their eyes flared wide. The branches dropped from their arms and Takeenya's scream cut through the silence. Bane whirled on one knee. Two great forms loomed over him as he came up with the lithe motion of a springing wolf. The ceremonial stave was in his hand and he drove it through the body of the nearest foe with a force which sent its sharp point out between the man's shoulders. Then the long, lean arms of the other locked about him, and the two went down together.
The talon-like nails of the stranger were tearing at his face, the hideous red eyes staring into his with a terrible threat, as Bane writhed about and, fending off the clawing hands with one arm, drew his pistol. He pressed the muzzle close against the savage side and pulled the trigger. At the muffled report, the stranger's body jerked to the concussion of the bullet, but the thick lips merely gaped in a horrid grin.
One long arm slid under Bane's shoulders, the other hand gripped his hair, the Dire Wolf felt his head being forced back irresistibly. He clutched at the other's wrists with both hands, but the flesh under his frantic fingers was as hard as wood. Bane's neck felt like it was ready to break with a little more pressure. He threw his body backward with one final effort, breaking the deadly hold. The other was on him, and the talons were clutching again. Bane found and raised the empty pistol, and he felt the man's skull cave in as he brought down the long barrel with all his strength. But still the writhing lips remained parted in fearful mockery.
As near a panic as he ever felt clutched Bane. What sort of man was this, who still menaced his life with tearing fingers, after having been shot and mortally bludgeoned? Not a living man certainly. What had Watesa called them? Zuvembies! At the thought Bane wrenched and heaved explosively, and the close-locked combatants tumbled across the earth to come to a rest in the smouldering ashes before the cave mouth. Bane barely felt the heat, but the mouth of his foe gaped, this time in seeming agony. The frightful fingers loosened their hold and Bane sprang clear.
The savage creature with his shattered skull was rising on one hand and one knee when Bane struck again. From the side he leaped in, landing full on the sinewy back, his steely arms seeking and finding a deadly wrestling hold. As they went to the earth together he twisted the other's neck, so that the hideous dead face looked back over one shoulder. The body lay motionless but to Bane it seemed that it was not dead even then, for the red eyes still burned with their grisly light.
The Dire Wolf turned to see his companions just beginning to react. The whole vicious struggle had taken only a few seconds. He looked for the ceremonial staff. It was lying in a heap of dust, among which were a few mouldering bones. With one stride he tugged the staff free and turned to the fallen man. His face set in grim lines as he raised and then drove the staff down hard through the savage breast. Before everyone's eyes, the great body crumbled and dissolving to dust as they watched horror-struck, even as the first opponent had crumbled when Bane had first thrust the stave.
IV.
"Damn!" whispered Bane. "These men were dead! Vampires maybe, or Zombies. This is as bad as you feared, Samuel."
Katherine rose to her knees and drew closer, staying slightly behind Bane. "There wasn't time to tell you before they attacked, Jeremy, but their thoughts were primitive, almost animalistic. No higher functions."
"These are the walking dead that we have been sent to free," Watesa told them.
"Why didn't they attack as soon they first came in?" demanded Bane.
"They feared the fire. They were waiting for the embers to die entirely."
"So fire is an effective weapon to use against them. Good to know."
"They came from the Red Hills. Hundreds of their kind swarm among the boulders and caverns of these hills, where they have lurked for two centuries. Jeremy, Katherine, it is not an era of which we Danarakans are proud. Among the greater of these hills there is a silent city of stone, raised by an earlier civilization whose very name is forgotten. The Bakwanga made war upon a lesser tribe, killing and enslaving and taking their territory."
"History of the world, sadly," Katherine said.
"All too true. Driven into the ruins, the refugees turned to their shaman, who knew dark secrets from the Fall of Ulgor. He placed a curse upon his own people. He made them forever Undead. For the generations since, the Zuvembies have they preyed on the tribes of the jungle, stalking down from the hills at midnight and at sunset to kill. Men and beasts flee them and only fire can destroy them."
"At least, here is something else that we know can destroy them," said Bane grimly, raising the ceremonial stave.
"You also have your silver daggers," Katherine reminded him.
"Yeah, they haven't let me down yet. We might as well get some rest, first we'll eat," said Bane, "then we'd better build a regular bonfire fire at the cave mouth.
"Yes," agreed Watesa. "The flames which keep away nocturnal predators shall also keep away Zuvembies."
Later Bane sat just inside the cave, chin rested on clenched fist, eyes gazing unseeingly into the fire. The night wore on. Katherine slept, her cheek pillowed on her arm and the Danarakan girl Takeenya was lying close to her for support. The coughing roars of lions shook the hills and still Bane sat and gazed broodingly into the fire. Outside, the night was alive with whispers and rustlings and stealthily soft footfalls. And at times Bane, glancing up from his meditations, seemed to catch the gleam of great red eyes beyond the flickering light of the fire. The whole scene seemed to capsulize the Midnight War to Bane.
Grey dawn was stealing over the grasslands when Bane shook Katherine into wakefulness. Off to one side, Samuel Watesa sat up and stretched.
"This land has been blighted for a long time," said Watesa, getting down to business. "A dreaded curse animates these dead people! You're eager to wipe out these dead fellows, eh?"
"I can't wait. Talk about something opposed to nature," said Bane sombrely. "Dead people should lie quietly and go into the ground when the times come. These are known in my land as Zombies. I never expected to come upon a whole nation of them."
"We will arrive at the stone city soon," Watesa declared. "We will start now."
The Dire Wolf shouldered on his knapsack and buckled his canteen to his belt. "Katherine, you should stay here with Takeenya."
"What?! I hardly think so, lad. We're safer with you two and to be honest, my telepathy will warn us of any ambush. I can tell where these monsters are before they're in sight."
Bane shook his head. "No. No arguing. I didn't want to say this outright but Samuel and I aren't likely to survive this. The numbers are too ridiculous. If we don't come back by tomorrow morning, it's up to you to get back to the nearest outpost and report to Mr Dred. He needs to know what happened and he'll need you as an aide."
The young telepath took a long moment to respond. "I never heard you talk that way before, Jeremy. You're always so sure of yourself. I'm getting scared for the first time."
V.
Bane and Watesa went up among the barren Red Hills as the sun was rising. Higher they climbed, up steep clay slopes, winding their way through ravines and between great boulders. The hills were honey-combed with dark, forbidding caves, and these they passed warily, and Bane's flesh crawled as he thought of the grisly occupants therein. For Watesa had said:"The Zuvembies lie motionless in caves most all of the day till sunset. Those caves are a vast cemetery that empties itself at night."
The sun rose higher, baking down on the bare slopes with an intolerable heat. Silence hung heavy over the land. They had seen nothing, but Bane could have sworn at times that a black shadow drifted behind a boulder at their approach.
"Those Zuvembies, they stay hidden in daytime." said Watesa with a low grumble. "They are afraid of the vultures! Same for the rats and the crows. Carrion is all the same to them."
A strong shudder shook his companion. "Man, I didn't know what I was getting into when I signed up for the Midnight War!" Bane's grey eyes burned with a dangerous light. The terrible heat, the solitude and the knowledge of the horrors lurking on either hand were shaking even his hardened nerves. He was carrying the wide-brimmed hat as he wiped the sweat from his face with his free hand.
"Keep that hat on," admonished Watesa with a tinge of amusement. "Sunstroke is something we have no way to treat out here."
Bane made no reply other than to firmly tug the slouch hat back on. They mounted an eminence at last and looked down on a sort of plateau. In the center of this plateau was a decayed city of crumbling granite. Bane was struck by a sense of incredible age as he looked. The walls and houses were of great stone blocks, yet they were falling into ruin. Grass grew on the plateau, and high in the streets of that dead city. Bane saw no movement among the ruins.
"That is their city, so why do they choose to sleep in the caves?"
"They're not thinking the way living Humans think," Watesa. "They're working at a primal, instinctive level. Maybe they don't trust anything man-made."
"It's so quiet," whispered Bane, "No birds, no insects. It's as if life has been hushed here."
"Zuvembes have nothing to say to each other. They're dead. They lie unliving in caves all day but wander off at sunset. Predators that even lions and leopards hesitate to approach."
Bane nodded. The crumbling walls which surrounded that dead city were still high and solid enough to resist the attack of spearmen, especially when defended by these Undead fiends.
Watesa announced solemnly, "I have to think a new plan! Let me hold the ceremonial staff, Jeremy, and be silent a little while."
Bane seated himself on a boulder, and gazed broodingly at the bare crags and slopes which surrounded them. Far away to the south he saw the leafy green ocean that was the jungle. Distance lent a certain enchantment to the scene. Closer at hand loomed the dark blotches that were the mouths of the caves of horror.
Watesa was squatting, tracing some strange pattern in the clay with the sharp point of the staff. Bane watched him, thinking how easy they might fall victim to the Zuvembies if even three or four of the fiends should come out of their caverns. And even as he thought it, a black misshapen shadow fell across the crouching Hungan.
Bane acted without conscious thought, springing up from the boulder where he satlike a stone hurled from a catapult. A vicious short straight left shattered the face of the hideous thing who had stolen upon them. With a furious barrage of punches, Bane drove his inhuman foe staggering back, never giving him time to halt or launch an offensive.
At the very edge of the cliff the Zuvembie wavered, then pitched back over, to fall for a hundred feet and lie writhing on the rocks of the plateau below. Watesa was on his feet pointing and yelling. The Red Hills were giving up their dead.
Out of the caves they were swarming, terrible black silent shapes. Up the slopes they came charging and over the boulders they came clambering, and their red eyes were all turned toward the two living Humans who stood above the silent city. The caves belched them forth in an unholy judgment day.
Watesa pointed to a crag some distance away and with a shout started running fleetly toward it. Bane followed. From behind boulders taloned hands clawed at them, tearing their garments. They raced past caves, and mummified monsters lurched out of the dark to join in the pursuit.
The dead hands were close at their back when they scrambled up the last slope and stood on a ledge which was the top of the crag. The fiends halted silently a moment, then came clambering after them. Bane drew both silver-bladed daggers and slashed down into the red-eyed faces, sweeping aside the upleaping hands. They surged up like a great wave; he whirled his knives in a silent fury that matched theirs. The wave broke and wavered back, then came on again.
He knocked them down, hurled them back, but they rose and came on again. He could not last much longer. What in God's name was Watesa doing? Bane spared one swift, tortured glance over his shoulder. The Hungan stood on the highest part of the ledge, head thrown back, arms lifted as if in invocation.
"Hear me, men of Ombressa! These are the words of the Elders of Danarak. In the names of Jordyn, Cirkoth and Eryasha, the curse is lifted from you. I declare you are freed to go to your final rest of true death."
Bane's vision blurred to the sweep of hideous faces with red, staring eyes. Those in front were horrible to see now, for their skulls were shattered, their faces caved in and their limbs broken. But still they came on and those behind reached across their shoulders to clutch at the man who defied them.
Bane was covered with red but the blood was all his. From the long-withered veins of those monsters no single drop of warm red blood trickled. Suddenly from behind him came a long piercing wall from Watesa! Over the whistling of the silver daggers it sounded high and clear, the only voice lifted in that hideous fight.
The wave of vampires washed up about Bane's legs, dragging him down. Keen talons tore at him, flaccid lips sucked at his wounds. He reeled up again, dishevelled and bloody, clearing a space with a vicious sweep of his silver daggers. Then they closed in again and he went down.
"Even just grievances must not last forever," called out Watesa. "The curse is lifted, I say. The dead do not forgive but they are forgiven. REST IN PEACE!"
"This is the end!" Bane thought, but even at that instant, he was freed. He glared about wildly. All around him, the monsters were sagging to the ground and stretching out to not move again. Unexpectedly free, he straightened up, still ready to renew the strife. He halted, frozen. Overhead, the sky darkened with a horde of vultures and crows eagerly swarming. Galloping up the rocky slopes were hundreds of black rats and hyenas which seemed ravenous.
The sounds of beaks and fangs tearing at dead flesh, the growling and rasping as the scavengers quarreled to get at the carcasses, was nauseating. Bane felt as if he couldn't deal with much more. He hadn't thought he had limits to his endurance but this nightmare had taught him differently.
Watesa stood like a prophet on the pinnacle, and the great black birds soared and wheeled about him. His arms still waved and his voice still wailed out across the hills. And over the skylines they still came, hordes on endless hordes of vultures and crows. Racing across the ground were still more rats and hyenas. It seemed the entire scavanger population of Danarak had converged here for their hideous feast
"Our work is done," Samuel Watesa announced with the voice of a judge. "Come, Jeremy, we do not need to watch this cleaning-up."
Bane gazed at at the clean blue sky. He hadn't realized how hazy and oppressive the air had been before. Fresh air like a strong sea wind clearing a fog of horror lifted his spirits. The two men wearily began descending the rocky slope again. Watesa lifted one arm and rubbed Bane's back high up between the shoulder blades. As the sounds of feasting faded behind them, they felt relieved.
VI.
Bane sat in the mouth of the cave where Katherine was beginning to thaw her frosty attitude after seeing them both return safely. She had gone so far as to fetch more water from the spring downhill and helped him scrub off some of the dried blood.
The Dire Wolf's garments hung in strips and tatters. His body and face were deeply gashed and darkly bruised, but he had not suffered a mortal wound in that deathly fight on the cliff. Young and tough, with an enhanced metabolism, he shrugged off trauma that would kill most people.
"I will keep the ceremonial staff, Jeremy," said Watesa. "It has mighty power against all sorcerers and demons and nameless evil things. Are you and Katherine ready to head West again and eventually back to America?"
Katherine spoke up emphatically, "Absolutely. I keep thinking of Mr Dred fretting over us. He must be worried sick by now."
"We'll place a call at the first outpost we can," agreed Bane.
"The Jeep is waiting two days march from here. A day after that, we'll be at the Zambusa village, they have electricity and telephone service. That's where the modern roads begin."
Katherine Wheatley allowed one of her endearing grins to spread across her face. "And I bet there's something new waiting for us. Something horrifying and dangerous and unexpected. Right, Jeremy?"
He nodded with a faint smile of his own. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
3/22/2023
