"The Golden Ogre"
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dochermes"The Golden Ogre"
3/24/2015
I.
From the front passenger seat of the leased Hyundai, Timothy protested half-heartedly, "Haley, you can't park here."
Haley Lawson gave her teammate her most innocent smile. "The signs SAYS, 'Fine For Parking.' So it's fine." Then she undid her seat belt and hopped out into the street just as a black smoke-spewing pickup with a twelve-foot wide American flag on its antennae rolled past. "Phew."
From the back seat, Galvan dropped a huge hand onto Timothy's shoulder. "Let it go, Tim. Arguing with our Windcatcher is like telling leaves what color to turn in the fall." The Melgar looked and dressed like a stereotypical lumberjack, with his giant muscular form squeezed into a red and black-checked flannel shirt and tan work pants. His thick brown beard and curly hair completed the image. Galvan got out on his side of the car while the other KDF member in back exited from her own door.
Not more than an inch over five feet tall, Jocelyn Garimara puzzled many rural Americans with her smooth dark skin, straight black hair and distinctive facial structure. But then, most rural folks had never met an Australian Aboriginal woman from the North West Territory. Jocelyn was dressed a little more formally than her teammates, wearing dress shoes, dark grey slacks and a sleeveless white silk blouse neatly tucked into her narrow waist. She smiled at Haley's sense of humor but said nothing.
Coming around to join his three partners, Timothy Limbo gave up on getting Haley to park somewhere else. "All I can say is, we are not all chipping in to pay for any tickets you accumulate on this adventure, Hales."
At five feet eight, Haley was almost as tall as Timothy himself. Her most striking feature was a pair of lovely lime-green eyes under a full head of auburn hair that shone with health and youth. "Tim, Tim, Tim. Cars are beautiful living things that deserve to roam free and park where they will."
"Yeah, I'm sure the judge will be deeply moved by that sentiment," Timothy said. He picked up his well-worn black leather jacket from inside the car and shrugged it on. His mop of butter-yellow hair hung down perilously close to obstructing his vision. "Anyway, where's the scene of destruction we came to check out?"
Jocelyn pointed down the street where long strips of police tape blocked off access to scattered debris which had evidently been a small bungalow. Beams and broken boards and ruined furniture were strewn all over the yard. Part of the roof was still supported by a single upright, but otherwise the destruction was complete. The four investigators moved closer, taking in their impressions.
"Not caused by an explosive device inside the structure," Jocelyn began. "All the wreckage is pointing inward."
"Look at those two by fours that were snapped neatly," added Tim. "And you notice one of them is stuck up in the branches of that tree twenty feet away. Yikes, I just noticed that upside-down bathtub over by the curb. No skid marks in the grass, so it wasn't dragged there... It was tossed."
It was Galvan who spoke out loud what they were all concluding. "This was the work not of a bomb or a vehicle but a living thing and one which possesses enormous physical strength."
"Like you yourself?" asked Haley. "I mean, you could have smashed up the cottage this way if you wanted to, right?"
"Of course. But flesh and blood beings with my admittedly great prowess are few in number. I dare say neither Sulak nor Valera would come all the way to Red Ridge, Arizona merely to indulge in smashing a building."
Timothy was crouching over a water hydrant that had been kicked over and split open. The water supply had been turned off but a large puddle still covered the yard. "This impresses me no end. I don't think a Gelydra could have done this. Or even a Troll. They're strong all right, but not like this."
From behind them, an old woman's voice broke in. "You know, we saw the monster that did this."
All four KDF members swung around to face a slightly bent lady wrapped in a heavy cardigan and sweatpants. Her hair was pure silver, shining in the afternoon sunlight. "I live across the street in that little brick house there. My sister and I saw the whole thing. So did a dozen other people who stood around staring. The sad thing is it was over so fast that none of us thought to take a picture on our phones."
Galvan's white teeth flashed within his beard as he made his voice less booming and more gentle. "What exactly did you see, ma'am?"
"We've been calling it the Golden Ogre. This is third time that the creature had run wild in town. First time, it flipped a few cars over and threw a motorcycle through the window of the pharmacy. A week ago, the darn thing yanked a street lamp right out of the ground and started smashing the sidewalk up, roaring and chasing people away. That's over on Partition Street, you can see from here where they're just starting to make repairs. Miracle no one's been hurt except for being scared senseless."
Haley let out a long appreciative whistle. "Not something you expect to witness in a nice quiet little mountain town like this, eh?"
"I'll say!" the old woman chortled. "Between five cars being wrecked and the having to replace the street lamp and store window, damages are estimated as real high. And then, last night, the Golden Ogre completely demolished Old Man Saulpaugh's bungalow here for no possible reason. Good thing the family wasn't home!"
"That is fantastic," the young girl called Windcatcher said. "But there's the evidence right there. Throwing a two by four twenty feet up into a tree is not something even a circus strongman could do."
"That's not the worst, missy." The old lady lowered her voice conspiratorily. "The Ogre looks like some sort of monster from an old Hollywood movie. Biggest man you ever saw, he could carry a couple of NFL guys under each arm. Dressed all in rags, enough of his pants left barely enough to be decent, some strips of cloth across his back and hanging off his arms where his shirt should be. The beast has yellow skin like a lion's only brighter and a long shaggy mop of yellow hair... like yours, son."
Timothy Limbo looked down in embarrassment. "Pure coincidence. I can barely get the top unscrewed off a soda bottle on a good day."
"Heh. You should get a look at the Golden Ogre. He's like something out of a nightmare that wakes you up all out of breath. His head is flat across the top. The ledge over his eyes sticks out a good two inches like a caveman. He has tusks sticking up in his lower jaw. And his hands and feet are twice as big as they should be, even for a brute like that. I have to say, those of us who saw him were paralyzed with absolute terror. We froze in place and hoped he wouldn't notice us."
"And that's the sweet little critter we've come here to capture," laughed Haley.
II.
They talked further with the woman, whose name was Gloria Ballard and who seemed perfectly happy to chat indefinitely. She pointed out how strange it was that the local newspapers and the area TV station had barely covered the rampages. A few brief mentions of unexplained 'vandalism' were all she had seen. Even the social media seemed to quickly take down any photos of the damage to property.
"Oh, it's a cover-up, no doubt about it," Haley told her. "We've seen this so many times! Businesses and politicians want to keep money coming in, and inexplicable supernatural events tend to scare away tourists and discourage consumerism. Makes me mad as anything, but there it is."
"If you don't mind my asking, who are you nice young people? How did you even hear about these goings-on?"
"We're from the Kenneth Dred Foundation, a paranormal research group," Windcatcher replied. Mrs Ballard seemed to like her best, all the old lady's remarks were directed to her. "We get lots of reports from all over the country from people telling us about everything from strange lights in the sky to alligators in Minnesota to clusters of missing people."
"You're not police, are you? They've been absolutely no help!"
"Nah, mostly we poke around and find nothing much to act on. But this, these buildings being smashed and cars flipped over, that's something new."
Off to one side, Timothy Limbo had been gazing out over the town in general. "I'm wondering how this Golden Ogre gets around. He's certainly conspicuous enough. He can't sneak unnoticed through back yards and behind stores when he looks like that."
"Well, it has been wonderful talking to you folks but my back is killing me," Mrs Ballard said. "I must be hobbling home now to lie down for a bit. Good luck getting to the bottom of all this." She graced them all with a smile showing either well made dentures or carefully tended teeth and crossed the street to her house.
Standing in a circle on the sidewalk, the four teammates decided not to check with the local police just yet. "I bet we'd only get the same old runaround and maybe some strong suggestions not to hang around town."
"I agree with that," Galvan said. The big Melgar towered over every one of his partners, and any of them could have hidden behind his massive form without being seen. "Jocelyn, you mentioned something about an abandoned town near here?"
"Yes. A no-fooling Western ghost town. It had been a settlement during a silver rush in the 1880s, then it became a trading town. But according to the State historians, when the Interstate came in, the town road was cut off and the last few people living there eventually moved here to Red Ridge."
"You always do your homework," Timothy said.
"Between the flight from New York and the long drive out here to the wasteland, there was plenty of time to read up. I sent local maps to your Links." Jocelyn shrugged narrow shoulders. "Maybe it won't lead to anything, who can say? But I think it's a likely starting point to poke around."
"Sounds good," Timothy agreed. "You must be tired, Haley, take a break and I'll drive."
The girl who called herself Windcatcher had already hopped over to open the driver's door. "Tim, always remember these three little words: 'don't argue.'"
"Huh? That's only two words."
"See, you're starting already!"
III.
They had only gotten a few blocks away from the scene of the wreckage when Jocelyn leaned forward and tapped Windcatcher's shoulder. "Pull over, I see something."
Promptly if not carefully, Haley swerved the Hyundai over so its right wheel scraped up against the curb.
"Right next to a fire hydrant!" groaned Timothy. "Hales, traffic court is going to love you."
"Oh, shush," she said. "What is it, Jocelyn?"
"See that man over there? In the doorway of that shoe store? Don't his proportions seem all wrong?"
They all knew what she meant. Even in that split-second before the man spun and took off at a lumbering run, they could see how wide his shoulders were, how even bundled in a long coat his arms were visibly longer than his legs. Nothing of his face could be glimpsed between a hat pulled low and the raised coat collar.
Before any of them could react, Jocelyn had sprung from the car and sprinted in pursuit. She was the fastest runner on their team. Small and lean, with long legs and a short torso, she was already across the street and closing in on the fleeing man while her teammates were still getting out of the car.
The man ran in a most peculiar manner, bent far forward as if he wanted to use the backs of his hands against the ground to help. Jocelyn raced up within reach and called, "Wait a minute, wait a minute, we're not going to hurt you...!"
To her complete surprise, the stranger whirled and lashed out a backhand that caught her squarely on one cheek hard as a right hook from a heavyweight boxer. Between the added reach of that abnormally long arm and the sheer size of that hamlike paw, Jocelyn was taken off-guard and barely rolled with the impact. She staggered three steps to the side before falling into a seated position.
Instantly, her partners were helping her back up. Haley Lawson hooked both hands under Jocelyn's armpits and hoisted her to her feet. "You okay?" she asked. "That was quite a swat you took."
Instead of answering her, Jocelyn snapped, "Tim! Send your caspers after him."
From Timothy Limbo's upraised palm, a barely visible tornado of whirling air materialized and shot away. "My boy is on the job, Jocelyn. We're worried about you."
"I'm fine, fine. Okay, maybe a little chagrined," she said, straightening her clothes. "Bleedin' bugger was wearing a rubber mask of some kind, I didn't see his face at all."
"He got in a white van someone else is driving," Tim said, staring off into the distance as he received impressions from his casper. "Going like hell. They're past the town limits, must be doing seventy. Ah, my buddy fell back. He can't match that speed."
"Too bad," Haley told him without criticism. "Your friendly ghosts are the perfect way to tail someone without being seen. Jocelyn, how about sending your Red Spectre on the chase?"
"I don't think so," their unofficial team leader said. "She's too conspicuous. We don't want the whole town putting up videos of my Spectre on YouTube if we can help it."
"Yeah, you're right," Haley grudgingly agreed. "Same reason I don't summon a tornado and fly after them myself. This business of keeping a low profile sucks."
Galvan interrupted, "Tim, your little manifestations saw the car heading west?"
"Yep. That way. Right past the town limits."
"And directly toward the side road where the ghost town still stands," the Melgar observed.
As soon as they were on an open stretch of Route 12, where the houses were widely spaced and only an occasional gas station broke the monotony, Haley piped up, "You guys, I've got one of my brilliant ideas!"
"Turn on the radio instead," Timothy suggested. "Sing along with Courtney McKenna, her song plays every ten minutes."
"No, seriously. I'm wearing the Air Gem on a choker under my pullover," she said. "How about trying this... I put this car in neutral and summon hurricane winds from I dunno somewhere in the Pacific? The winds push us along at two hundred miles an hour and we get where we're going in no time AND save on gas."
"Except for when you lose control and we flip upside down in a ditch and they need two ambulances to haul us away," grumbled Timothy.
"Aw, you never want to try anything even remotely fun."
From the back seat, Galvan spoke up. "I'm afraid it wouldn't work, Haley. No criticism of your driving skills but car tires and steering aren't designed for conditions like that. We'd go into an uncontrolled skid as soon as you made the slightest turn."
"Oh all right. It was just an idea." Windcatcher conceded. "Hey, is that our turn off?" She slowed and hit her indicator for the first time that day because there were no other cars in sight.
"Yes. Old Silver Creek Road," Jocelyn said. "There's even the DEAD END - NO EXIT sign."
"Hey, hey you guys, there's a cow skull. See it? All the times we've been out West, I never saw an actual cow skull by the side of the road," Haley said.
"Very picturesque," Timothy agreed. "On this side, there's what used to be a one room shack. The stovepipe chimney is still propped up."
They reached a wide dirt road with a dozen delapidated buildings barely standing on either side. Windows had long ago been broken out, doors hung from one hinge, roofs were sunken in and an occasional rain barrel or watering trough remained to show this bleak scene had once been active. A signpost leaning to one side read BOOM OR BUST with a sticker beneath it SOON TO BE AN HISTORIC SITE - NO TRESPASSING.
"Might as well park here as anywhere," Haley said, stopping the car in the exact center of the dusty main street. They all disembarked, turning in circles to survey their surroundings.
"Kind of beautiful in a sad bittersweet way," Timothy observed after a long silence. "I always figured even today's biggest busiest cities will end up like this some day. After Mankind is gone, trees and other plants will cover everything up in new forests."
Jocelyn strode over to sit down on a low porch in front of a building that was leaning sideways at a forty degree angle and imminently ready to fall. "My Gammon is restless. She smells gralic energy in the area. I'm going to let her out for a second."
As her three partners watched from a slight distance, the Aboriginal woman lowered her head and eased up the mental focus she normally maintained to restrain her inner entity. Flashing up from within her body rose a dark red humanlike outline that crackled like a live power line. The Red Spectre ascended twenty feet above them, spinning on its axis and then hesitated before reluctantly sliding back down again to be lost from sight within Jocelyn's torso.
Blinking and coming back to full vitality, she regarded her teammates somberly. "This area is saturated with gralic force, and with anger. My Gammon wants to blow the whole ghost town to powder if I'd let her do it."
"Sounds good to me," Haley chirped. "These abandoned buildings give me the creeps big time."
"But," Jocelyn said as she rose, "We'd leave without having found out anything about this Golden Ogre. That was our mission, remember. Let's get the dart guns from our gear."
Going back to the leased car, they took four suitcases from the trunk and opened up concealed compartments within them to reveal components of three handmade air-powered pistols with extended needle-thin barrels. These were concealed inside what would appear to an X-Ray scanner to be harmless personal items. It took a few minutes to assemble the weapons.
"I really wish we had been able to take the CORBY out here," Timothy said. He clicked a magazine of fifteen anestheric darts into the butt of his weapon. "Not only would we be flying around in comfort, we could have brought our Trom armor and lots of other gear."
"Same here," agreed Jocelyn, tucking her dart gun into the back of her belt where the lightweight jacket concealed it. "But Sable and Jeremy are going to be using it in Chujir the next couple of days. And Megan has the second copter half disassembled on Hawk Island, making her usual upgrades. We'll have to get by. At least our Links look enough like phones that we were able to bring them with us."
Galvan alone did not bring a dart gun. His arena code of Androval forbade the use of any weapons. "Bah. Look at us. Our own specialized abilities are more than enough, really. My strength, Jocelyn's Red Spectre and Timothy's friendly ghosts, Haley's Windcatcher powers are all we need."
"All right, here's my plan. Everyone set your Links to open transmit so we can hear each other. I think two of us should walk down the street on opposite sides, while the other two come down behind the buildings. Not really sure what we're looking for, but by now we're all experienced at spotting anything out of the ordinary."
Before she closed the car trunk, Haley Lawson took out a folded bundle and unrolled it to reveal a full-length cloak of Royal blue cotton. She fastened it by a clasp around her neck and threw it back over her shoulders with a grin. "Ta-DAAA."
"Your super-hero complex is so endearing," Timothy muttered. "I swear, you're going to start wearing a little domino mask at some point."
"This cape is entirely practical, Tim-Tim! It's weighted at the lower hem and it has stiff nylon rods running vertically. It helps give me stability in flight. And don't you dare say anything about my needing all the stability I can get."
The four KDF investigators dispersed and began slowly moving down from the north side of the ghost town. Timothy kept pausing as he saw items which looked interesting but which he realized weren't of any real value. A battered old brass spittoon in a doorway. Oddly shaped brown glass bottles in a grimy window. Painted on one wall was FRANCIS BAUMER, DDS - PAINLESS EXTRACTION. Tim kept moving, increasingly lost in musing about the passing of time.
From his Link, Galvan's voice announced, "Here's that white van. Half hidden under a sort of lean-to made of old roofing. We're definitely on the right track. Give me a minute to run the plates through Colorado DMV... Hmm. Reported stolen three days ago. So not much of a lead on who we're dealing with."
"Everyone stay even sharper than usual," warned Jocelyn's voice. "Whether it's the wanker who slugged me or whatever the Golden Ogre might be, we're dealing with some dangerous tykes."
Then Haley spoke up, her voice trying to stay at a whisper. "Whoa! Everybody over here behind the stable. You guys have got to see this."
V.
Within seconds, the other three had joined her in the open area behind a crumbling structure with a wide double door which had let horses in and out more than a century earlier. Both Jocelyn and Tim had their dart guns up and ready as they skidded to a halt where Haley stood over an unconscious man.
"That's it? A drunk sleeping it off?" Timothy demanded, actually relieved at the unthreatening sight.
"I don't smell anything on him, booze or beer," Haley said. "I think he's just exhausted. He's snoring pretty regular. And his clothes are awful clean for a derelict."
True enough, the man curled up against the stable wall was wearing khaki pants and a bright blue polo shirt that looked new. His sneakers alone were worn-out and dingy. He seemed short, thin and inoffensive, with ragged blond hair over a narrow unshaven face. Even the arrival of the four investigators did nothing to roust him.
"Not HIM. C'mon you guys, didn't you notice that big old hole in the ground over there?" She pointed to an alley between buildings where a circular hole eight feet in diameter was in fact gaping almost at their feet.
"Trolls," declared Galvan. "I have seen many like this. The hatred between their Race and mine is bitter and ancient. We deal with Tunnel-dwelling maneaters here, my friends."
"Yikes." Haley moved around to get a better look at the opening. "The edges are so smooth. How do they do it?"
"The brutes use their own vile saliva like glue to hold earth together. They have been living beneath our feet since the Darthan Age." The big Melgar raised his fists in a pugnacious stance. "I think it's likely this so-called Golden Ogre is some new breed of Troll not seen before. I would bet my estates that the ground right below us contains a dozen tunnels all interconnected and all with openings hidden in bushes or beneath loose rocks. How I hate Trolls...!"
"They are not overly fond of you either," rasped a harsh voice from behind them. All the KDF members wheeled around into ready stances, Jocelyn and Tim whipping up their dart guns and swinging their bodies sideways to present smaller targets. Haley clasped her hand to the mystic Air Gem at her throat.
Facing them, evidently having clambered up from a much smaller round hole in the ground, stood one of the Digger Trolls. Shorter than a Fighter, he had the same short stout trunk and thick limbs of his kind, but his tawny hide was not covered with the bristly hair of a Fighter. Nor did he have tusks in his lower jaw, and his skull did not rise to a conical point.
What was remarkable was that his kilt was not made of coarse burlap but of clean white linen and he wore a thin circlet of beaten gold around his temples. In his left paw was a thick staff of the copper-colored metal Gremthom, known as a Darthan favorite metal.
"I remember you," Galvan said at once. "It has not been that long since we met. You are Grum, the only Troll ever to show any skill in gralic magick!"
"Guilty as charged," came the guttural reply. "Ohlahr Kje was a fool. As knowledgeable about sorcery as he was, he never noticed me studying everything he did or peeking into his grimoires while he slept. He thought of me as a mere slave good for only hard labor."
"And you slew him, of course," the Melgar said.
"Of course. The way he beat me and his Human slaves? He deserved no better. I am still deciphering his book of spells."
"Hah! For all your bravado, you fled like a rabbit before Princess Valera and myself. Many Trolls were sent to the halls of their ancestors that day!"
"Wait up a tick," interrupted Jocelyn. "So that guy who was all bundled up, the bludger who gave me a sucker punch... Was he one of you Trolls too?"
"Yes indeed, dear one. You faced Skur, my personal bodyguard. Like me, he is an anomaly among our kind. He is a Fighting Troll who never grew beyond Human height. You can imagine how useful it is to have one of us who can pass unnoticed in a crowd of surface dwellers and yet has the magnificent strength of a full grown warrior. I could not be more proud of Skur were he my own son."
Galvan shook a fist, its back toward the socerer Troll in a challenging gesture. "All your schemes end now. I tell you, leave this area if you want to live to see sunset. Go dwell in unpopulated mountains and wastelands with the rest of your miserable kindred."
"You Melgar dogs are always so arrogant," Grum rasped, stamping the butt of his staff on the hard-packed earth. "It was well past time some humility was beaten into you. Aksum! Kill them all!"
In the next fraction of a second, warned by a strange cracking and groaning noise behind them, the KDF members wheeled around and immediately scattered in all directions as their leased car came hurtling toward them at head height. Only Galvan did not flee. The most powerful flesh and blood creature of his era planted both feet wide and braced himself to stop three thousand pounds of onrushing metal with his arms. Galvan was rocked back a step but he brought the Hyundai to a sudden halt and let it fall to land on its wheels. The clatter of shattered glass and bits of broken metal dropping to the ground were loud in the awed hush which followed.
Looming up where the sleeping man had sprawled a moment earlier, the terrifying bulk of a giant loomed up. The Golden Ogre, dressed only in rags, raised wo arms thick with rounded muscle and bellowed like an ox in pain before charging. Galvan vaulted forward to meet him head-on. The two crashed against together with a thump that could be felt in the ground beneath everyone's feet and started pounding at each other with thunderous blows that would have cracked stone.
Galvan caught a wide looping roundhouse punch to the head that sent him spinning ten feet away. His teammates were shocked to their cores at seeing this, they had come to think of their Melgar partner as invincible. Although the impact had flung him aside, it did not seem to trouble Galvan at all. He got his footing and leaped to the attack with both fists blurring left and right.
Off to the side, Jocelyn Garimara dropped to hands and knees, lowering her head as she loosed her Gammon. The hissing dark crimson energy being flashed upward from her body but was unexpectedly struck by a blast the same color and intensity exploding from Grum's staff. The Red Spectre faltered, nearly broke up into fragments and returned to its host as Joceyn slumped dazedly to the ground.
Near the sorcerer Troll, dark misshapen forms began to climb up from the hole in the ground. "Tel Shai fools!" roared Grum with a flourish of his Gremthom staff, "You will fill our stew pots tonight!"
VI.
"Whoa, whoa, you guys get back down there!" shouted Haley. Her mind latched onto a typhoon somewhere in the South China Sea and transported pelting wind and rain from it to smash into the emerging Trolls. Stunned by the unexpected freezing water and gale force air striking them, the Tunnel-dwellers were beaten back down out of sight.
But Windcatcher's moment of triumph was brief indeed. The bundled-up form of Skur had rushed toward her from concealment and an open paw hard as an axe blade smacked across the back of her unprotected neck. Even before her limp body reached the ground, a flurry of thin metal darts stabbed into Skur, piercing the leathery hide of his face and hands. The Human-sized Troll staggered at the jabbing pain and toppled over backwards.
Timothy Limbo swung his dart gun to cover Grum, who laughed boldly at the sight. The warlock Troll brandished his staff and shouted, "You! You are the weakest of all your team! Better you run for your life, little boy, or I will gnaw on your bones."
Not speaking in return, Tim summoned two of his friendly ghosts and sent them spinning toward Grum. The tiny whirlwinds of force clung over the Troll's face, blurring his vision. Grum cried out, lowering his staff and trying without effect to swat the caspers away. Even though he consciously knew that the manifestations were not harming him, any attack on one's eyes provoked an irresistable protective reaction and his attention focused entirely on trying to clear his sight.
Tim extended his arm and launched the remaining eight darts. They sank into exposed flesh over Grum's torso, releasing the potent Trom-devised drug into his system. The sorcerer Troll gasped and reeled drunkenly. He had only a split-second to realize what was happening before he fell face down to the dirt.
Ejecting the empty magazine from his dart gun, Timothy pulled a fresh one from his leather jacket pocket and clicked it into place. In two years as a Tel Shai knight and KDF member, he had survived enough combat to become a hardened veteran who did not panic nor go amok when fighting started. He saw Galvan and the Ogre pounding away at each other, trading murderous blows at point-blank range. Tim knew he should see to his fallen teammates first.
Keeping a wary eye on that hole in the ground where the Troll horde showed no sign of emerging anew, Tim dropped to his knees beside Haley. Sharp relief washed over him as he found a strong steady pulse and saw she was breathing normally. With her enhanced healing from the Tagra regimen, Haley had taken little harm from that vicious rabbit punch which would have killed a strong man twice her size. There was still risk of concussion or edema, but he felt confident that her chances of recovery were good.
He ran over to where Jocelyn Garimara had forced herself up to a seated position. She was pressing a hand to her chest in pain.
"Bloody hell," she mumbled in a shaky voice not like her usual confident tone. "THAT never happened before. My whole body aches. Tim..? What's going on?"
"Grum and Skur are down from my darts. Haley is dazed but she seems like she's going to be all right. How are you doing?"
"I feel like I've been tenderized like a piece of cheap steak," she grumbled. "But I'm ready for the fight. Oh my God, look at Galvan go."
They both stared as two warriors of superhuman power clashed. Galvan had begun to use his well-honed boxing skills against his larger opponent. Light on his feet, the more agile Melgar darted in to crash two punishing left-right hooks to the Troll's muzzle before hopping back out of reach. Now that he had gotten the measure of his opponent's reach and reaction time, the Melgar attacked from different angles each time. The sharp cracking impacts of his fists connecting rang out in the otherwise silent ghost town.
The Golden Ogre was taking punches which would have broken granite into chips, but he did not seem harmed by them, only enraged. The great brute's chest was working furiously. He swung his knotted paws in wide roundhouse blows that would be fatal if they had connected but which the experienced Galvan saw coming well in advance. The Melgar continued to close in like a fencer, thump two punches right in his foe's face and then dance back out of reach.
"Seems like this could go on all day and into the night," Jocelyn said. "Talk about evenly matched."
"Galvan's not going to tire any time soon," Timothy added. "He's got stamina that never runs out. But I don't see where he's really hurting that monster either."
Jocelyn leaned back, resting up against the kneeling Timothy. "Well, Galvan may be enjoying this, he's a Melgar and they live to brawl. But we need to move on." She released the Red Spectre again. The dark outline swung up from her body, hovered for a mere instant and the gralic being flashed straight at the two combatants.
Seeing the ominous energy manifestation crackling his way, the Golden Ogre snarled and waited until the last possible instant before swerving over to interpose Galvan between himself and the onrushing Gammon. The detonation sounded like thunder much too close and the crimson glare dazzled Tim and Jocelyn so spots swam in their vision. As hearing and sight returned, they realized they had both been toppled by the shockwave of heated air from the collision.
Galvan was on his back, rolling over and promptly rising but they way he shook his head showed he was stunned. In the distance, the immense bulk of the Golden Ogre was lumbering away in a clumsy gallop.
"Where's your Spectre?" asked Timothy.
"Back inside. She took quite a beating, I'm afraid." Jocelyn got up, swayed and caught herself. "S'truth, we had our hands full today."
Galvan strode over to examine Haley, who was muttering to herself and vaguely trying to get up. "Hold still, child," he ordered. "Rest a few minutes. Let your healing kick in."
Timothy and Jocelyn joined them, crouching over the fallen Windcatcher. "What are we going to do about our two prisoners? Grum and what's his face, the other one? We sure can't take them back to the airport with us... assuming our car is still running."
"I think it took a few dents and lost the windows on one side," Galvan admitted. "I caught it as best I could. Sable is not going to be happy about the bill we're going to get from the rental company.
That drew an amused snort from Timothy. "Add it to our list of things to worry about. Jocelyn, we're expecting the rest of our team to be back tonight?"
"Yes. I suppose we should keep these two crazy Trolls sedated with more darts until Sable gets here with the CORBY. Then we can turn them over to Androval. We have an agreement with them about captured Trolls."
"Believe me, King Holmir will treat these beasts better than they would have treated us," Galvan muttered. "We Melgar do not eat our enemies..."
Haley stirred and spoke a few curses they would have sworn she didn't know. "Is my head still on? Did I get hit by a truck? What the hell?"
"You're going to be fine, Hales," Tim said. "Don't try to move just yet."
"And we STILL haven't caught that Ogre character," Jocelyn said. "I hate it when they run away and we have to go looking for them again."
"You know something?" Galvan said after a moment. "Remember that man we found sleeping here?"
"Sure. I figured he ran away when he saw all the wild mayhem going on," Tim said. "But, it's funny. The Golden Ogre only had on scraps of a blue shirt and khaki pants, same as what that man had been wearing. And they both had the same color hair...."
11/4/2021
3/24/2015
I.
From the front passenger seat of the leased Hyundai, Timothy protested half-heartedly, "Haley, you can't park here."
Haley Lawson gave her teammate her most innocent smile. "The signs SAYS, 'Fine For Parking.' So it's fine." Then she undid her seat belt and hopped out into the street just as a black smoke-spewing pickup with a twelve-foot wide American flag on its antennae rolled past. "Phew."
From the back seat, Galvan dropped a huge hand onto Timothy's shoulder. "Let it go, Tim. Arguing with our Windcatcher is like telling leaves what color to turn in the fall." The Melgar looked and dressed like a stereotypical lumberjack, with his giant muscular form squeezed into a red and black-checked flannel shirt and tan work pants. His thick brown beard and curly hair completed the image. Galvan got out on his side of the car while the other KDF member in back exited from her own door.
Not more than an inch over five feet tall, Jocelyn Garimara puzzled many rural Americans with her smooth dark skin, straight black hair and distinctive facial structure. But then, most rural folks had never met an Australian Aboriginal woman from the North West Territory. Jocelyn was dressed a little more formally than her teammates, wearing dress shoes, dark grey slacks and a sleeveless white silk blouse neatly tucked into her narrow waist. She smiled at Haley's sense of humor but said nothing.
Coming around to join his three partners, Timothy Limbo gave up on getting Haley to park somewhere else. "All I can say is, we are not all chipping in to pay for any tickets you accumulate on this adventure, Hales."
At five feet eight, Haley was almost as tall as Timothy himself. Her most striking feature was a pair of lovely lime-green eyes under a full head of auburn hair that shone with health and youth. "Tim, Tim, Tim. Cars are beautiful living things that deserve to roam free and park where they will."
"Yeah, I'm sure the judge will be deeply moved by that sentiment," Timothy said. He picked up his well-worn black leather jacket from inside the car and shrugged it on. His mop of butter-yellow hair hung down perilously close to obstructing his vision. "Anyway, where's the scene of destruction we came to check out?"
Jocelyn pointed down the street where long strips of police tape blocked off access to scattered debris which had evidently been a small bungalow. Beams and broken boards and ruined furniture were strewn all over the yard. Part of the roof was still supported by a single upright, but otherwise the destruction was complete. The four investigators moved closer, taking in their impressions.
"Not caused by an explosive device inside the structure," Jocelyn began. "All the wreckage is pointing inward."
"Look at those two by fours that were snapped neatly," added Tim. "And you notice one of them is stuck up in the branches of that tree twenty feet away. Yikes, I just noticed that upside-down bathtub over by the curb. No skid marks in the grass, so it wasn't dragged there... It was tossed."
It was Galvan who spoke out loud what they were all concluding. "This was the work not of a bomb or a vehicle but a living thing and one which possesses enormous physical strength."
"Like you yourself?" asked Haley. "I mean, you could have smashed up the cottage this way if you wanted to, right?"
"Of course. But flesh and blood beings with my admittedly great prowess are few in number. I dare say neither Sulak nor Valera would come all the way to Red Ridge, Arizona merely to indulge in smashing a building."
Timothy was crouching over a water hydrant that had been kicked over and split open. The water supply had been turned off but a large puddle still covered the yard. "This impresses me no end. I don't think a Gelydra could have done this. Or even a Troll. They're strong all right, but not like this."
From behind them, an old woman's voice broke in. "You know, we saw the monster that did this."
All four KDF members swung around to face a slightly bent lady wrapped in a heavy cardigan and sweatpants. Her hair was pure silver, shining in the afternoon sunlight. "I live across the street in that little brick house there. My sister and I saw the whole thing. So did a dozen other people who stood around staring. The sad thing is it was over so fast that none of us thought to take a picture on our phones."
Galvan's white teeth flashed within his beard as he made his voice less booming and more gentle. "What exactly did you see, ma'am?"
"We've been calling it the Golden Ogre. This is third time that the creature had run wild in town. First time, it flipped a few cars over and threw a motorcycle through the window of the pharmacy. A week ago, the darn thing yanked a street lamp right out of the ground and started smashing the sidewalk up, roaring and chasing people away. That's over on Partition Street, you can see from here where they're just starting to make repairs. Miracle no one's been hurt except for being scared senseless."
Haley let out a long appreciative whistle. "Not something you expect to witness in a nice quiet little mountain town like this, eh?"
"I'll say!" the old woman chortled. "Between five cars being wrecked and the having to replace the street lamp and store window, damages are estimated as real high. And then, last night, the Golden Ogre completely demolished Old Man Saulpaugh's bungalow here for no possible reason. Good thing the family wasn't home!"
"That is fantastic," the young girl called Windcatcher said. "But there's the evidence right there. Throwing a two by four twenty feet up into a tree is not something even a circus strongman could do."
"That's not the worst, missy." The old lady lowered her voice conspiratorily. "The Ogre looks like some sort of monster from an old Hollywood movie. Biggest man you ever saw, he could carry a couple of NFL guys under each arm. Dressed all in rags, enough of his pants left barely enough to be decent, some strips of cloth across his back and hanging off his arms where his shirt should be. The beast has yellow skin like a lion's only brighter and a long shaggy mop of yellow hair... like yours, son."
Timothy Limbo looked down in embarrassment. "Pure coincidence. I can barely get the top unscrewed off a soda bottle on a good day."
"Heh. You should get a look at the Golden Ogre. He's like something out of a nightmare that wakes you up all out of breath. His head is flat across the top. The ledge over his eyes sticks out a good two inches like a caveman. He has tusks sticking up in his lower jaw. And his hands and feet are twice as big as they should be, even for a brute like that. I have to say, those of us who saw him were paralyzed with absolute terror. We froze in place and hoped he wouldn't notice us."
"And that's the sweet little critter we've come here to capture," laughed Haley.
II.
They talked further with the woman, whose name was Gloria Ballard and who seemed perfectly happy to chat indefinitely. She pointed out how strange it was that the local newspapers and the area TV station had barely covered the rampages. A few brief mentions of unexplained 'vandalism' were all she had seen. Even the social media seemed to quickly take down any photos of the damage to property.
"Oh, it's a cover-up, no doubt about it," Haley told her. "We've seen this so many times! Businesses and politicians want to keep money coming in, and inexplicable supernatural events tend to scare away tourists and discourage consumerism. Makes me mad as anything, but there it is."
"If you don't mind my asking, who are you nice young people? How did you even hear about these goings-on?"
"We're from the Kenneth Dred Foundation, a paranormal research group," Windcatcher replied. Mrs Ballard seemed to like her best, all the old lady's remarks were directed to her. "We get lots of reports from all over the country from people telling us about everything from strange lights in the sky to alligators in Minnesota to clusters of missing people."
"You're not police, are you? They've been absolutely no help!"
"Nah, mostly we poke around and find nothing much to act on. But this, these buildings being smashed and cars flipped over, that's something new."
Off to one side, Timothy Limbo had been gazing out over the town in general. "I'm wondering how this Golden Ogre gets around. He's certainly conspicuous enough. He can't sneak unnoticed through back yards and behind stores when he looks like that."
"Well, it has been wonderful talking to you folks but my back is killing me," Mrs Ballard said. "I must be hobbling home now to lie down for a bit. Good luck getting to the bottom of all this." She graced them all with a smile showing either well made dentures or carefully tended teeth and crossed the street to her house.
Standing in a circle on the sidewalk, the four teammates decided not to check with the local police just yet. "I bet we'd only get the same old runaround and maybe some strong suggestions not to hang around town."
"I agree with that," Galvan said. The big Melgar towered over every one of his partners, and any of them could have hidden behind his massive form without being seen. "Jocelyn, you mentioned something about an abandoned town near here?"
"Yes. A no-fooling Western ghost town. It had been a settlement during a silver rush in the 1880s, then it became a trading town. But according to the State historians, when the Interstate came in, the town road was cut off and the last few people living there eventually moved here to Red Ridge."
"You always do your homework," Timothy said.
"Between the flight from New York and the long drive out here to the wasteland, there was plenty of time to read up. I sent local maps to your Links." Jocelyn shrugged narrow shoulders. "Maybe it won't lead to anything, who can say? But I think it's a likely starting point to poke around."
"Sounds good," Timothy agreed. "You must be tired, Haley, take a break and I'll drive."
The girl who called herself Windcatcher had already hopped over to open the driver's door. "Tim, always remember these three little words: 'don't argue.'"
"Huh? That's only two words."
"See, you're starting already!"
III.
They had only gotten a few blocks away from the scene of the wreckage when Jocelyn leaned forward and tapped Windcatcher's shoulder. "Pull over, I see something."
Promptly if not carefully, Haley swerved the Hyundai over so its right wheel scraped up against the curb.
"Right next to a fire hydrant!" groaned Timothy. "Hales, traffic court is going to love you."
"Oh, shush," she said. "What is it, Jocelyn?"
"See that man over there? In the doorway of that shoe store? Don't his proportions seem all wrong?"
They all knew what she meant. Even in that split-second before the man spun and took off at a lumbering run, they could see how wide his shoulders were, how even bundled in a long coat his arms were visibly longer than his legs. Nothing of his face could be glimpsed between a hat pulled low and the raised coat collar.
Before any of them could react, Jocelyn had sprung from the car and sprinted in pursuit. She was the fastest runner on their team. Small and lean, with long legs and a short torso, she was already across the street and closing in on the fleeing man while her teammates were still getting out of the car.
The man ran in a most peculiar manner, bent far forward as if he wanted to use the backs of his hands against the ground to help. Jocelyn raced up within reach and called, "Wait a minute, wait a minute, we're not going to hurt you...!"
To her complete surprise, the stranger whirled and lashed out a backhand that caught her squarely on one cheek hard as a right hook from a heavyweight boxer. Between the added reach of that abnormally long arm and the sheer size of that hamlike paw, Jocelyn was taken off-guard and barely rolled with the impact. She staggered three steps to the side before falling into a seated position.
Instantly, her partners were helping her back up. Haley Lawson hooked both hands under Jocelyn's armpits and hoisted her to her feet. "You okay?" she asked. "That was quite a swat you took."
Instead of answering her, Jocelyn snapped, "Tim! Send your caspers after him."
From Timothy Limbo's upraised palm, a barely visible tornado of whirling air materialized and shot away. "My boy is on the job, Jocelyn. We're worried about you."
"I'm fine, fine. Okay, maybe a little chagrined," she said, straightening her clothes. "Bleedin' bugger was wearing a rubber mask of some kind, I didn't see his face at all."
"He got in a white van someone else is driving," Tim said, staring off into the distance as he received impressions from his casper. "Going like hell. They're past the town limits, must be doing seventy. Ah, my buddy fell back. He can't match that speed."
"Too bad," Haley told him without criticism. "Your friendly ghosts are the perfect way to tail someone without being seen. Jocelyn, how about sending your Red Spectre on the chase?"
"I don't think so," their unofficial team leader said. "She's too conspicuous. We don't want the whole town putting up videos of my Spectre on YouTube if we can help it."
"Yeah, you're right," Haley grudgingly agreed. "Same reason I don't summon a tornado and fly after them myself. This business of keeping a low profile sucks."
Galvan interrupted, "Tim, your little manifestations saw the car heading west?"
"Yep. That way. Right past the town limits."
"And directly toward the side road where the ghost town still stands," the Melgar observed.
As soon as they were on an open stretch of Route 12, where the houses were widely spaced and only an occasional gas station broke the monotony, Haley piped up, "You guys, I've got one of my brilliant ideas!"
"Turn on the radio instead," Timothy suggested. "Sing along with Courtney McKenna, her song plays every ten minutes."
"No, seriously. I'm wearing the Air Gem on a choker under my pullover," she said. "How about trying this... I put this car in neutral and summon hurricane winds from I dunno somewhere in the Pacific? The winds push us along at two hundred miles an hour and we get where we're going in no time AND save on gas."
"Except for when you lose control and we flip upside down in a ditch and they need two ambulances to haul us away," grumbled Timothy.
"Aw, you never want to try anything even remotely fun."
From the back seat, Galvan spoke up. "I'm afraid it wouldn't work, Haley. No criticism of your driving skills but car tires and steering aren't designed for conditions like that. We'd go into an uncontrolled skid as soon as you made the slightest turn."
"Oh all right. It was just an idea." Windcatcher conceded. "Hey, is that our turn off?" She slowed and hit her indicator for the first time that day because there were no other cars in sight.
"Yes. Old Silver Creek Road," Jocelyn said. "There's even the DEAD END - NO EXIT sign."
"Hey, hey you guys, there's a cow skull. See it? All the times we've been out West, I never saw an actual cow skull by the side of the road," Haley said.
"Very picturesque," Timothy agreed. "On this side, there's what used to be a one room shack. The stovepipe chimney is still propped up."
They reached a wide dirt road with a dozen delapidated buildings barely standing on either side. Windows had long ago been broken out, doors hung from one hinge, roofs were sunken in and an occasional rain barrel or watering trough remained to show this bleak scene had once been active. A signpost leaning to one side read BOOM OR BUST with a sticker beneath it SOON TO BE AN HISTORIC SITE - NO TRESPASSING.
"Might as well park here as anywhere," Haley said, stopping the car in the exact center of the dusty main street. They all disembarked, turning in circles to survey their surroundings.
"Kind of beautiful in a sad bittersweet way," Timothy observed after a long silence. "I always figured even today's biggest busiest cities will end up like this some day. After Mankind is gone, trees and other plants will cover everything up in new forests."
Jocelyn strode over to sit down on a low porch in front of a building that was leaning sideways at a forty degree angle and imminently ready to fall. "My Gammon is restless. She smells gralic energy in the area. I'm going to let her out for a second."
As her three partners watched from a slight distance, the Aboriginal woman lowered her head and eased up the mental focus she normally maintained to restrain her inner entity. Flashing up from within her body rose a dark red humanlike outline that crackled like a live power line. The Red Spectre ascended twenty feet above them, spinning on its axis and then hesitated before reluctantly sliding back down again to be lost from sight within Jocelyn's torso.
Blinking and coming back to full vitality, she regarded her teammates somberly. "This area is saturated with gralic force, and with anger. My Gammon wants to blow the whole ghost town to powder if I'd let her do it."
"Sounds good to me," Haley chirped. "These abandoned buildings give me the creeps big time."
"But," Jocelyn said as she rose, "We'd leave without having found out anything about this Golden Ogre. That was our mission, remember. Let's get the dart guns from our gear."
Going back to the leased car, they took four suitcases from the trunk and opened up concealed compartments within them to reveal components of three handmade air-powered pistols with extended needle-thin barrels. These were concealed inside what would appear to an X-Ray scanner to be harmless personal items. It took a few minutes to assemble the weapons.
"I really wish we had been able to take the CORBY out here," Timothy said. He clicked a magazine of fifteen anestheric darts into the butt of his weapon. "Not only would we be flying around in comfort, we could have brought our Trom armor and lots of other gear."
"Same here," agreed Jocelyn, tucking her dart gun into the back of her belt where the lightweight jacket concealed it. "But Sable and Jeremy are going to be using it in Chujir the next couple of days. And Megan has the second copter half disassembled on Hawk Island, making her usual upgrades. We'll have to get by. At least our Links look enough like phones that we were able to bring them with us."
Galvan alone did not bring a dart gun. His arena code of Androval forbade the use of any weapons. "Bah. Look at us. Our own specialized abilities are more than enough, really. My strength, Jocelyn's Red Spectre and Timothy's friendly ghosts, Haley's Windcatcher powers are all we need."
"All right, here's my plan. Everyone set your Links to open transmit so we can hear each other. I think two of us should walk down the street on opposite sides, while the other two come down behind the buildings. Not really sure what we're looking for, but by now we're all experienced at spotting anything out of the ordinary."
Before she closed the car trunk, Haley Lawson took out a folded bundle and unrolled it to reveal a full-length cloak of Royal blue cotton. She fastened it by a clasp around her neck and threw it back over her shoulders with a grin. "Ta-DAAA."
"Your super-hero complex is so endearing," Timothy muttered. "I swear, you're going to start wearing a little domino mask at some point."
"This cape is entirely practical, Tim-Tim! It's weighted at the lower hem and it has stiff nylon rods running vertically. It helps give me stability in flight. And don't you dare say anything about my needing all the stability I can get."
The four KDF investigators dispersed and began slowly moving down from the north side of the ghost town. Timothy kept pausing as he saw items which looked interesting but which he realized weren't of any real value. A battered old brass spittoon in a doorway. Oddly shaped brown glass bottles in a grimy window. Painted on one wall was FRANCIS BAUMER, DDS - PAINLESS EXTRACTION. Tim kept moving, increasingly lost in musing about the passing of time.
From his Link, Galvan's voice announced, "Here's that white van. Half hidden under a sort of lean-to made of old roofing. We're definitely on the right track. Give me a minute to run the plates through Colorado DMV... Hmm. Reported stolen three days ago. So not much of a lead on who we're dealing with."
"Everyone stay even sharper than usual," warned Jocelyn's voice. "Whether it's the wanker who slugged me or whatever the Golden Ogre might be, we're dealing with some dangerous tykes."
Then Haley spoke up, her voice trying to stay at a whisper. "Whoa! Everybody over here behind the stable. You guys have got to see this."
V.
Within seconds, the other three had joined her in the open area behind a crumbling structure with a wide double door which had let horses in and out more than a century earlier. Both Jocelyn and Tim had their dart guns up and ready as they skidded to a halt where Haley stood over an unconscious man.
"That's it? A drunk sleeping it off?" Timothy demanded, actually relieved at the unthreatening sight.
"I don't smell anything on him, booze or beer," Haley said. "I think he's just exhausted. He's snoring pretty regular. And his clothes are awful clean for a derelict."
True enough, the man curled up against the stable wall was wearing khaki pants and a bright blue polo shirt that looked new. His sneakers alone were worn-out and dingy. He seemed short, thin and inoffensive, with ragged blond hair over a narrow unshaven face. Even the arrival of the four investigators did nothing to roust him.
"Not HIM. C'mon you guys, didn't you notice that big old hole in the ground over there?" She pointed to an alley between buildings where a circular hole eight feet in diameter was in fact gaping almost at their feet.
"Trolls," declared Galvan. "I have seen many like this. The hatred between their Race and mine is bitter and ancient. We deal with Tunnel-dwelling maneaters here, my friends."
"Yikes." Haley moved around to get a better look at the opening. "The edges are so smooth. How do they do it?"
"The brutes use their own vile saliva like glue to hold earth together. They have been living beneath our feet since the Darthan Age." The big Melgar raised his fists in a pugnacious stance. "I think it's likely this so-called Golden Ogre is some new breed of Troll not seen before. I would bet my estates that the ground right below us contains a dozen tunnels all interconnected and all with openings hidden in bushes or beneath loose rocks. How I hate Trolls...!"
"They are not overly fond of you either," rasped a harsh voice from behind them. All the KDF members wheeled around into ready stances, Jocelyn and Tim whipping up their dart guns and swinging their bodies sideways to present smaller targets. Haley clasped her hand to the mystic Air Gem at her throat.
Facing them, evidently having clambered up from a much smaller round hole in the ground, stood one of the Digger Trolls. Shorter than a Fighter, he had the same short stout trunk and thick limbs of his kind, but his tawny hide was not covered with the bristly hair of a Fighter. Nor did he have tusks in his lower jaw, and his skull did not rise to a conical point.
What was remarkable was that his kilt was not made of coarse burlap but of clean white linen and he wore a thin circlet of beaten gold around his temples. In his left paw was a thick staff of the copper-colored metal Gremthom, known as a Darthan favorite metal.
"I remember you," Galvan said at once. "It has not been that long since we met. You are Grum, the only Troll ever to show any skill in gralic magick!"
"Guilty as charged," came the guttural reply. "Ohlahr Kje was a fool. As knowledgeable about sorcery as he was, he never noticed me studying everything he did or peeking into his grimoires while he slept. He thought of me as a mere slave good for only hard labor."
"And you slew him, of course," the Melgar said.
"Of course. The way he beat me and his Human slaves? He deserved no better. I am still deciphering his book of spells."
"Hah! For all your bravado, you fled like a rabbit before Princess Valera and myself. Many Trolls were sent to the halls of their ancestors that day!"
"Wait up a tick," interrupted Jocelyn. "So that guy who was all bundled up, the bludger who gave me a sucker punch... Was he one of you Trolls too?"
"Yes indeed, dear one. You faced Skur, my personal bodyguard. Like me, he is an anomaly among our kind. He is a Fighting Troll who never grew beyond Human height. You can imagine how useful it is to have one of us who can pass unnoticed in a crowd of surface dwellers and yet has the magnificent strength of a full grown warrior. I could not be more proud of Skur were he my own son."
Galvan shook a fist, its back toward the socerer Troll in a challenging gesture. "All your schemes end now. I tell you, leave this area if you want to live to see sunset. Go dwell in unpopulated mountains and wastelands with the rest of your miserable kindred."
"You Melgar dogs are always so arrogant," Grum rasped, stamping the butt of his staff on the hard-packed earth. "It was well past time some humility was beaten into you. Aksum! Kill them all!"
In the next fraction of a second, warned by a strange cracking and groaning noise behind them, the KDF members wheeled around and immediately scattered in all directions as their leased car came hurtling toward them at head height. Only Galvan did not flee. The most powerful flesh and blood creature of his era planted both feet wide and braced himself to stop three thousand pounds of onrushing metal with his arms. Galvan was rocked back a step but he brought the Hyundai to a sudden halt and let it fall to land on its wheels. The clatter of shattered glass and bits of broken metal dropping to the ground were loud in the awed hush which followed.
Looming up where the sleeping man had sprawled a moment earlier, the terrifying bulk of a giant loomed up. The Golden Ogre, dressed only in rags, raised wo arms thick with rounded muscle and bellowed like an ox in pain before charging. Galvan vaulted forward to meet him head-on. The two crashed against together with a thump that could be felt in the ground beneath everyone's feet and started pounding at each other with thunderous blows that would have cracked stone.
Galvan caught a wide looping roundhouse punch to the head that sent him spinning ten feet away. His teammates were shocked to their cores at seeing this, they had come to think of their Melgar partner as invincible. Although the impact had flung him aside, it did not seem to trouble Galvan at all. He got his footing and leaped to the attack with both fists blurring left and right.
Off to the side, Jocelyn Garimara dropped to hands and knees, lowering her head as she loosed her Gammon. The hissing dark crimson energy being flashed upward from her body but was unexpectedly struck by a blast the same color and intensity exploding from Grum's staff. The Red Spectre faltered, nearly broke up into fragments and returned to its host as Joceyn slumped dazedly to the ground.
Near the sorcerer Troll, dark misshapen forms began to climb up from the hole in the ground. "Tel Shai fools!" roared Grum with a flourish of his Gremthom staff, "You will fill our stew pots tonight!"
VI.
"Whoa, whoa, you guys get back down there!" shouted Haley. Her mind latched onto a typhoon somewhere in the South China Sea and transported pelting wind and rain from it to smash into the emerging Trolls. Stunned by the unexpected freezing water and gale force air striking them, the Tunnel-dwellers were beaten back down out of sight.
But Windcatcher's moment of triumph was brief indeed. The bundled-up form of Skur had rushed toward her from concealment and an open paw hard as an axe blade smacked across the back of her unprotected neck. Even before her limp body reached the ground, a flurry of thin metal darts stabbed into Skur, piercing the leathery hide of his face and hands. The Human-sized Troll staggered at the jabbing pain and toppled over backwards.
Timothy Limbo swung his dart gun to cover Grum, who laughed boldly at the sight. The warlock Troll brandished his staff and shouted, "You! You are the weakest of all your team! Better you run for your life, little boy, or I will gnaw on your bones."
Not speaking in return, Tim summoned two of his friendly ghosts and sent them spinning toward Grum. The tiny whirlwinds of force clung over the Troll's face, blurring his vision. Grum cried out, lowering his staff and trying without effect to swat the caspers away. Even though he consciously knew that the manifestations were not harming him, any attack on one's eyes provoked an irresistable protective reaction and his attention focused entirely on trying to clear his sight.
Tim extended his arm and launched the remaining eight darts. They sank into exposed flesh over Grum's torso, releasing the potent Trom-devised drug into his system. The sorcerer Troll gasped and reeled drunkenly. He had only a split-second to realize what was happening before he fell face down to the dirt.
Ejecting the empty magazine from his dart gun, Timothy pulled a fresh one from his leather jacket pocket and clicked it into place. In two years as a Tel Shai knight and KDF member, he had survived enough combat to become a hardened veteran who did not panic nor go amok when fighting started. He saw Galvan and the Ogre pounding away at each other, trading murderous blows at point-blank range. Tim knew he should see to his fallen teammates first.
Keeping a wary eye on that hole in the ground where the Troll horde showed no sign of emerging anew, Tim dropped to his knees beside Haley. Sharp relief washed over him as he found a strong steady pulse and saw she was breathing normally. With her enhanced healing from the Tagra regimen, Haley had taken little harm from that vicious rabbit punch which would have killed a strong man twice her size. There was still risk of concussion or edema, but he felt confident that her chances of recovery were good.
He ran over to where Jocelyn Garimara had forced herself up to a seated position. She was pressing a hand to her chest in pain.
"Bloody hell," she mumbled in a shaky voice not like her usual confident tone. "THAT never happened before. My whole body aches. Tim..? What's going on?"
"Grum and Skur are down from my darts. Haley is dazed but she seems like she's going to be all right. How are you doing?"
"I feel like I've been tenderized like a piece of cheap steak," she grumbled. "But I'm ready for the fight. Oh my God, look at Galvan go."
They both stared as two warriors of superhuman power clashed. Galvan had begun to use his well-honed boxing skills against his larger opponent. Light on his feet, the more agile Melgar darted in to crash two punishing left-right hooks to the Troll's muzzle before hopping back out of reach. Now that he had gotten the measure of his opponent's reach and reaction time, the Melgar attacked from different angles each time. The sharp cracking impacts of his fists connecting rang out in the otherwise silent ghost town.
The Golden Ogre was taking punches which would have broken granite into chips, but he did not seem harmed by them, only enraged. The great brute's chest was working furiously. He swung his knotted paws in wide roundhouse blows that would be fatal if they had connected but which the experienced Galvan saw coming well in advance. The Melgar continued to close in like a fencer, thump two punches right in his foe's face and then dance back out of reach.
"Seems like this could go on all day and into the night," Jocelyn said. "Talk about evenly matched."
"Galvan's not going to tire any time soon," Timothy added. "He's got stamina that never runs out. But I don't see where he's really hurting that monster either."
Jocelyn leaned back, resting up against the kneeling Timothy. "Well, Galvan may be enjoying this, he's a Melgar and they live to brawl. But we need to move on." She released the Red Spectre again. The dark outline swung up from her body, hovered for a mere instant and the gralic being flashed straight at the two combatants.
Seeing the ominous energy manifestation crackling his way, the Golden Ogre snarled and waited until the last possible instant before swerving over to interpose Galvan between himself and the onrushing Gammon. The detonation sounded like thunder much too close and the crimson glare dazzled Tim and Jocelyn so spots swam in their vision. As hearing and sight returned, they realized they had both been toppled by the shockwave of heated air from the collision.
Galvan was on his back, rolling over and promptly rising but they way he shook his head showed he was stunned. In the distance, the immense bulk of the Golden Ogre was lumbering away in a clumsy gallop.
"Where's your Spectre?" asked Timothy.
"Back inside. She took quite a beating, I'm afraid." Jocelyn got up, swayed and caught herself. "S'truth, we had our hands full today."
Galvan strode over to examine Haley, who was muttering to herself and vaguely trying to get up. "Hold still, child," he ordered. "Rest a few minutes. Let your healing kick in."
Timothy and Jocelyn joined them, crouching over the fallen Windcatcher. "What are we going to do about our two prisoners? Grum and what's his face, the other one? We sure can't take them back to the airport with us... assuming our car is still running."
"I think it took a few dents and lost the windows on one side," Galvan admitted. "I caught it as best I could. Sable is not going to be happy about the bill we're going to get from the rental company.
That drew an amused snort from Timothy. "Add it to our list of things to worry about. Jocelyn, we're expecting the rest of our team to be back tonight?"
"Yes. I suppose we should keep these two crazy Trolls sedated with more darts until Sable gets here with the CORBY. Then we can turn them over to Androval. We have an agreement with them about captured Trolls."
"Believe me, King Holmir will treat these beasts better than they would have treated us," Galvan muttered. "We Melgar do not eat our enemies..."
Haley stirred and spoke a few curses they would have sworn she didn't know. "Is my head still on? Did I get hit by a truck? What the hell?"
"You're going to be fine, Hales," Tim said. "Don't try to move just yet."
"And we STILL haven't caught that Ogre character," Jocelyn said. "I hate it when they run away and we have to go looking for them again."
"You know something?" Galvan said after a moment. "Remember that man we found sleeping here?"
"Sure. I figured he ran away when he saw all the wild mayhem going on," Tim said. "But, it's funny. The Golden Ogre only had on scraps of a blue shirt and khaki pants, same as what that man had been wearing. And they both had the same color hair...."
11/4/2021
